Return to Classroom ‘Humbling’

It’s been 27 years since Tony Sandoval taught high school. Now the principal is trading his front office for a classroom. And he’s getting a full-fledged education.

On a recent day, Sandoval eagerly prepared a lesson about Karl Marx for his modern-world history class at South Gate High. Then he realized that several of his students hadn’t done their reading.

“You guys messed up. You didn’t do your homework,” he grumbled. “That hurts my feelings. You have an obligation to you and to me.”

Sandoval and his boss, administrator Dale Vigil, have returned to the classroom as the Los Angeles Unified School District mounts an aggressive campaign to improve its high schools.

The two men are putting their reputations on the line to wrestle with the same challenges their underlings face--disruptive students, missing homework and stacks of papers to grade.

Sandoval and Vigil, who last taught high school when Richard Nixon was president, are doing something unheard of in their circles: They’re rediscovering what it means to be a teacher.

Their classroom time provides an eye-opening perspective of a world both have known from a distance.

“It’s a humbling experience,” said Sandoval, 54, the principal of South Gate High. “More than anything else, it’s fun. I almost forgot why I got into the business.”

District officials--including Sandoval and Vigil--believe that high schools must stress literacy skills to help foundering students succeed. That means incorporating reading and writing exercises into math, science, history and other core subjects.

The reforms are placing new demands on teachers--demands that Sandoval and Vigil say they want to understand firsthand. So every Wednesday and Thursday, these two former history teachers shed their suit jackets and titles for the humble confines of the classroom.

“I’ve had to get up to speed. It’s been 30 years,” said Vigil, 57, a local superintendent who oversees 62,000 students in the South Gate area. “I’ve been gone so long, I feel like I’m learning the trade again.”

Sandoval and Vigil each teach a modern-world history class twice a week. They are covering the Industrial Revolution this term.

Sandoval has a ninth-grade honors class with students who are mostly attentive and well-behaved. But even top students can pose trouble, a lesson Sandoval learned one day last week.

He started third period, as usual, with a “quick write,” in which the students were asked to produce a short essay about a subject they were studying.

“Today’s the moment of truth,” Sandoval announced. “I want you to tell me about a guy named Marx, and I don’t want to hear about Groucho or Harpo. I want Karl. You have eight minutes from this moment.”

Then he added: “If you know about Groucho, you get extra credit.”

As the students began to write, Sandoval noticed a panicked look in the eyes of those who hadn’t read the textbook.

“You guys are honors students,” Sandoval said, clearly disappointed. “Every one of you here is a potential college student.”

The mood brightened as Sandoval moved on to the next activity--students delivering reports on inventions that grew out of the Industrial Revolution.

Before the period ended, Sandoval pointed to a diagram on the front board. It gave directions for the quick-write essays. Start with an introductory sentence, Sandoval told the students. Then expand on that point in the body of the essay. Use transitions and finish with a conclusion.

By the end of the hour, Sandoval pronounced the day a success. As the bell rang, he packed up his papers and returned to his regular job with his walkie-talkie in hand.

Meanwhile, across campus Vigil was set to begin his fourth-period history class.

Soft-spoken and professorial, he stood at an overhead projector at the front of the room explaining the day’s assignment to his 10th-graders. Chatter filled the room as he asked his students to jot down the characters from a historical novel they were reading about a 13-year-old factory worker in Massachusetts.

“Mister, I don’t get what to do,” one student said. “It’s complicated,” another said with a groan.

Vigil hopped from student to student, reexplaining the assignment patiently, putting his arm around the shoulders of several students who needed help.

Vigil had an ambitious game plan: trying to combine the literary elements of character, setting and conflict with the history of the period. He wanted his students to develop their own stories about imaginary characters from the 19th century.

But his class was progressing more slowly than he anticipated.

“I expected so much when I came in,” he said. “Instead of getting two quality papers, I’ll get one. I’m trying to go deep. To me, it’s about the quality of the work. We need to ask kids to think more.”

It was just that sort of perspective Vigil and Sandoval were seeking when they decided to teach this year.

Sandoval hatched the idea after one of his teachers urged him to give it a try. Sandoval had thought of filling in as a substitute. He mentioned the plan to Vigil, who suggested that they take on one class together. Instead, they each took a class of their own. They teamed up with two South Gate history teachers, who agreed to share their classes with the administrators.

Sandoval, Vigil and their teaching partners meet after school Tuesdays to prepare lesson plans.

In some ways, Sandoval and Vigil still have an easier job than their counterparts. They have to show up only twice a week, and their partners stay in the classroom to take attendance, answer phones and deal with interruptions.

Still, the two administrators are winning applause on campus for taking a chance and putting their own talents to the test.

“I think it’s a very good idea because administrators lose touch with reality,” one South Gate teacher said.

Some on campus take issue with Sandoval teaching an honors class. They think that he, like Vigil, should be experiencing the tribulations of regular students. Sandoval said he gave Vigil first choice of two available classes--one regular and one honors. Vigil chose the regular.

As for students, they have only kind words for both men. Some of those in Vigil’s class say they value the attention he lavishes on them.

“He knows how to explain good so I understand him and he’s very patient with us,” said Stephanie Ramirez, 15. “Teachers are in a hurry and don’t have time to answer your questions.”

Sandoval’s students say he has charisma, that he’s a friendly bear of a man who commands attention with his powerful voice, but can be as playful as he is demanding.

Students also note that he’s a good sport when they tease him, even when he misspells words on the board.

“Some of the students pointed out his bald spot,” said ninth-grader Eric Claros. “They called him baldy, but he didn’t care.”