Getting a college education is a 20-year investment. When you're growing up poor, you're not accustomed to thinking that far ahead. Instead, you're thinking about where you're going to get your next meal and how your family is going to pay rent that month. Besides, my parents and my friends' parents seemed to be doing just fine driving taxis and working as janitors. It wasn't until I was a teenager when I realized I didn't want to do those things. By then, I was two-thirds of the way through my education, and it was almost too late to turn things around.
Kupata elimu ya chuo ni uwekezaji wa miaka 20 Unapokulia katika umaskini, unakuwa hujazoea kufikiria mbele kiasi hicho Badala yake, unafikiria wapi utapata mlo unaofuata na namna gani familia yako italipa kodi ya pango kwa mwezi huo Mbali na hilo, wazazi wangu na wazazi wa rafiki zangu walionekana kuwa vizuri tu wakiendesha teksi na kufanya kazi za usafi na uhudumu. Ni mpaka nilipokuwa kijana nilipogundua sikutaka kufanya kazi zile. Wakati huo, nilikuwa theluthi mbili ya muda wa kumaliza elimu yangu na ilikuwa bado kidogo tu ningechelewa kufanya mabadiliko.
When you grow up poor, you want to be rich. I was no different. I'm the second-oldest of seven, and was raised by a single mother on government aid in Queens, New York. By virtue of growing up low-income, my siblings and I went to some of New York City's most struggling public schools. I had over 60 absences when I was in seventh grade, because I didn't feel like going to class. My high school had a 55 percent graduation rate, and even worse, only 20 percent of the kids graduating were college-ready.
Unapokulia umaskini, unataka kuwa tajiri. Sikuwa tofauti Mi ni wa pili kuzaliwa kati ya saba, na nililelewa na mama pekee kwa msaada wa serikali mjini Queens, New York. Kwa sababu ya kukulia kwenye kipato cha chini, mimi na ndugu zangu tulikwenda kwenye baadhi ya shule za umma zilizo duni sana katika Jiji la New York Nilikosa shule zaidi ya mara 60 nilipokuwa darasa la 7 kwa sababu sikujisikia kwenda darasani. Katika shule yangu ya sekondari, kwa wastani ni 55% walihitimu na kibaya zaidi, ni 20% tu ya waliohitimu walikuwa tayari kwa chuo.
When I actually did make it to college, I told my friend Brennan how our teachers would always ask us to raise our hands if we were going to college. I was taken aback when Brennan said, "Karim, I've never been asked that question before." It was always, "What college are you going to?" Just the way that question is phrased made it unacceptable for him not to have gone to college.
Nilipoingia chuo, nilimwambia rafiki yangu Brennan jinsi gani walimu wetu walituambia tunyooshe mikono juu kama tulitaka kwenda chuo. Nilishtushwa pale Brennan aliposema, "Karim, sijawahi kuulizwa swali hilo kabla." Daima lilikuwa, "Ni chuo gani unakwenda?" Namna tu swali lilivyoulizwa ilifanya kuwa jambo lisiliokubalika kwa yeye kutokwenda chuo.
Nowadays I get asked a different question. "How were you able to make it out?" For years I said I was lucky, but it's not just luck. When my older brother and I graduated from high school at the very same time and he later dropped out of a two-year college, I wanted to understand why he dropped out and I kept studying. It wasn't until I got to Cornell as a Presidential Research Scholar that I started to learn about the very real educational consequences of being raised by a single mother on government aid and attending the schools that I did. That's when my older brother's trajectory began to make complete sense to me.
Sikuhizi naulizwa swali tofauti. "Uliwezaje kufanikiwa kutoka?" Kwa miaka nilisema nilikuwa na bahati, Lakini haikuwa bahati tu. Mimi na kaka yangu mkubwa tulipomaliza sekondari katika wakati mmoja na baadaye akaacha chuo chuo cha miaka miwili Nilitaka kujua kwanini aliacha na niliendelea kusoma Ni mpaka nilipofika Cornell kama Mwafunzi wa Utafiti wa Kirais ndipo nilipoanza kujifunza juu ya matokeo halisi ya kielimu yatokanayo na malezi ya mama pekee kwa msaada wa serikali na kusoma shule nilizosoma. Pale ndipo njia ya kaka yangu mkubwa ilipoanza kuleta maana kamili kwangu.
I also learned that our most admirable education reformers, people like Arne Duncan, the former US Secretary of Education, or Wendy Kopp, the founder of Teach For America, had never attended an inner city public school like I had. So much of our education reform is driven by a sympathetic approach, where people are saying, "Let's go and help these poor inner city kids, or these poor black and Latino kids," instead of an empathetic approach, where someone like me, who had grown up in this environment, could say, "I know the adversities that you're facing and I want to help you overcome them."
Nilijifunza pia kuwa wanamaboresho elimu wetu maarufu watu kama Arne Duncan, Waziri wa zamani wa Elimu Marekani au Wendy Kopp, mwanzilishi wa Teach For America, hawajawahi kusoma kwenye shule za umma za ndani ndani ya jiji kama mimi. Kwa hiyo maboresho mengi ya elimu yanaendeshwa na mtazamo wa kihuruma ambapo watu wanasema "Twende tukasaidie hawa watoto maskini wa ndani ndani ya jiji au hawa watoto maskini weusi na wakilatino badala ya mtazamo wa uelewa, ambapo mtu ka' mimi, aliyekulia katika mazingira haya, ningeweza kusema, "Najua taabu mnazokumbana nazo na ninataka kuwasaidia kuzishinda."
Today when I get questions about how I made it out, I share that one of the biggest reasons is that I wasn't ashamed to ask for help. In a typical middle class or affluent household, if a kid is struggling, there's a good chance that a parent or a teacher will come to their rescue even if they don't ask for help. However, if that same kid is growing up poor and doesn't ask for help, there's a good chance that no one will help them. There are virtually no social safety nets available.
Leo nipatapo maswali kuhusu jinsi nilivyofanikiwa kutoka, Natoa sababu moja wapo kubwa kuwa sikuwa na aibu kuomba msaada. Katika tabaka la hali ya kati au kaya tajiri, kama mwanafunzi atakuwa na shida kuna uwezekano mkubwa kuwa mzazi au mwalimu atakuja kumsaidia hata asipoomba msaada. Lakini, kama mtoto huyo amekulia katika umaskini na hataomba msaada, kuna uwezekano mkubwa hakuna atakayemsaidia. Hakuna wigo wa usalama wa kijamii unaopatikana.
So seven years ago, I started to reform our public education system shaped by my firsthand perspective. And I started with summer school. Research tells us that two-thirds of the achievement gap, which is the disparity in educational attainment between rich kids and poor kids or black kids and white kids, could be directly attributed to the summer learning loss. In low-income neighborhoods, kids forget almost three months of what they learned during the school year over the summer. They return to school in the fall, and their teachers spend another two months reteaching them old material. That's five months. The school year in the United States is only 10 months. If kids lose five months of learning every single year, that's half of their education. Half.
Kwa hiyo miaka saba iliyopita, Nilianza kuboresha mfumo wetu wa elimu ya umma nikichukua taswira ya mtazamo wangu wa moja kwa moja. Na nilianza na shule ya kiangazi. Utafiti unatuambia kuwa theluthi mbili ya pengo la ufaulu, ambayo ni tofauti katika upatikanaji wa elimu kati ya watoto matajiri na watoto maskini au watoto weusi na watoto weupe inaweza kuhusishwa moja kwa moja na upotevu wa elimu kipindi cha kiangazi Katika kaya maskini, watoto husahau karibu miezi mitatu ya walichosoma kipindi cha mwaka wa shule wakati wa kiangazi. Wanarudi shule kipindi cha vuli, na walimu wao wanatumia miezi miwili mingine kurudia tena kuwafundisha. Hiyo ni miezi mitano. Mwaka wa shule Marekani ni miezi 10 tu. Kama watoto watapoteza miezi 5 ya kujifunza kila mwaka hiyo ni nusu ya elimu yao. Nusu.
If kids were in school over the summer, then they couldn't regress, but traditional summer school is poorly designed. For kids it feels like punishment, and for teachers it feels like babysitting. But how can we expect principals to execute an effective summer program when the school year ends the last week of June and then summer school starts just one week later? There just isn't enough time to find the right people, sort out the logistics, and design an engaging curriculum that excites kids and teachers.
Kama watoto wangekuwa shule kipindi cha kiangazi, wasingerudi nyuma, lakini shule ya kiangazi iliyozoeleka imeundwa vibaya. Kwa watoto inaonekana kama adhabu, na kwa walimu inaonekana kama uyaya. Lakini tunatarajia vipi walimu wakuu kutekeleza programu madhubuti ya kiangazi ikiwa mwaka wa shule unaisha juma la mwisho la Juni na shule ya kiangazi inaanza juma moja tu baadaye? Yaani hakuna wakati wa kutosha kupata watu sahihi kuratibu ugavi, na kuunda mtaala mahsusi unaowavutia watoto na walimu.
But what if we created a program over the summer that empowered teachers as teaching coaches to develop aspiring educators? What if we empowered college-educated role models as teaching fellows to help kids realize their college ambitions? What if empowered high-achieving kids as mentors to tutor their younger peers and inspire them to invest in their education? What if we empowered all kids as scholars, asked them what colleges they were going to, designed a summer school they want to attend to completely eliminate the summer learning loss and close two-thirds of the achievement gap?
Lakini vipi kama tungetengeneza programu ya kiangazi ambayo ingewapa nguvu walimu kama makocha wa kufundisha kuendeleza waelimishaji watarajiwa? Vipi kama tungewawezesha wasomi wa chuo wa mfano kuwa wakufunzi wenza kuwasaidia watoto kutambua matarajio yao ya chuo? Vipi kama tungewawezesha watoto wenye ufaulu mkubwa kuwa washauri kuwafundisha vijana wenzao na kuwahamasisha kuwekeza katika elimu yao? Vipi kama tungewawezesha watoto wote kama wasomi, tukiwauliza ni vyuo gani wangependa kwenda, tukiunda shule ya kiangazi wanayotaka kwenda kuondoa kabisa upotevu wa elimu kipindi cha kiangazi na kufunga theluthi mbili ya pengo la ufaulu?
By this summer, my team will have served over 4,000 low-income children, trained over 300 aspiring teachers and created more than 1,000 seasonal jobs across some of New York City's most disadvantaged neighborhoods.
Kiangazi hiki, timu yangu itakuwa imehudum ia zaidi ya watoto 4,000 wa kaya maskini, imefundisha zaidi ya walimu watarajiwa 300 na kuunda zaidi ya kazi 1,000 za msimu katika baadhi ya vitongoji vilivyo nyuma vya jiji la New York
(Applause)
(Makofi na Vifijo)
And our kids are succeeding. Two years of independent evaluations tell us that our kids eliminate the summer learning loss and make growth of one month in math and two months in reading. So instead of returning to school in the fall three months behind, they now go back four months ahead in math and five months ahead in reading.
Na watoto wetu wanafanikiwa Miaka miwili ya uthamini binafsi inatuambia kuwa watoto wetu wameondoa upotevu wa elimu wa kiangazi na wameongeza mwezi mmoja kwenye Hisabati na miezi miwili kwenye kusoma. Kwa hiyo badala ya kurudi shule kipindi cha vuli wakiwa miezi mitatu nyuma, sasa hivi wanarudi wakiwa miezi minne mbele kwenye Hisabati na miezi mitano mbele kwenye kusoma.
(Applause)
(Makofi na Vifijo)
Ten years ago, if you would have told me that I'd graduate in the top 10 percent of my class from an Ivy League institution and have an opportunity to make a dent on our public education system just by tackling two months of the calendar year, I would have said, "Nah. No way." What's even more exciting is that if we can prevent five months of lost time just by redesigning two months, imagine the possibilities that we can unlock by tackling the rest of the calendar year.
Miaka 10 iliyopita, kama ungeniambia kuwa ningehitimu katika 10% bora ya darasa langu kutoka taasisi ya Ivy League na kuwa na fursa ya kubadilisha japo kiduchu tu mfumo wetu wa elimu ya umma kwa kukabiliana na miezi miwili tu ya mwaka wa kalenda, ningesema, "Hapana, haiwezekani" Cha kusisimua ziaidi ni kuwa kama tunaweza kuzuia miezi mitano ya upotevu wa muda kwa kuunda upya miezi miwili fikiria fursa tunazoweza kufumbua kwa kukabiliana na miezi yote iliyobaki ya mwaka wa kalenda
Thank you.
Asanteni
(Applause)
(Makofi na Vifijo)