At Elmhurst Community Prep, the federal School Improvement Grant (SIG) has become a verb.

“Can you SIG an instructional coach?”

“Betlach, are we gonna SIG extra intervention teachers?”

“We need to SIG a whole new building.”

SIG (v): To use still hypothetical federal money to fill the gaps in

urban school funding and improve student outcomes.

It wasn’t always this way. Before last week’s State Board of Education decision that funded our school’s application, SIG wasn’t a verb, but rather a 4-letter word with etymology that centered on having a variety of unpleasant things done to you against your will.

State leaders wrote a new definition when they used a federal waiver to fund grant applications from our school—along with two others from Oakland and dozens more across the state. This is a good thing, but the most recent round of confusion and uncertainty functioned as yet another example of how poorly state leaders have managed the SIG process.

The initial news of grant eligibility (the list!) came crashing down on schools with a questionable algorithm and copious amounts of doom and gloom, local papers using the word failing in every lede, and Imperial Stormtrooper music accompanying each change option. On the heels of this upheaval came word that none of this was mandatory; schools and districts could decide individually if they pursuing this grant was in their best interest. This approach of go-for-the-cash-if-you-accept-the-strings seemed all well and good, not to mention wise, until it became evident that grant applications from districts where less than 100% of eligible schools applied would be immediately relegated to Priority II status. The state’s plan was to first fund districts where every school applied, even if that meant higher-scoring applications were denied.

Bait-and-switch #3, for those scoring at home.

Admittedly, some of this is an issue of perception.

But it’s not just an issue of perception. The way our school community experienced a flawed process cannot be ignored. It matters. It has affected how this whole process was viewed by our staff and community. It has affected our ability to both plan for reforms as well as plan to fully implement those changes. Indeed, the ongoing uncertainty around this grant has undermined our ability to fully prepare for the upcoming school year: Are we scrapping the bottom of every barrel, or do we have some fiscal flexibility?

I’m writing this a few days before school starts, and our school community stands to receive a lot of money; now it’s incumbent upon us to put it to good use. We’re doing this initially through our extended day program, a partnership with Citizen Schools that enrolls our entire 6^th grade in a wide array of activities until 5:00, Monday through Thursday. We struggled long and hard to ensure this extended day program would be available to our kids even in the absence of SIG funding, and now that it is ensured, we’re able to turn our attention to other grant deliverables.

Maybe we’ll still be able to hire that math coach we had planned on; maybe there’s a stellar ELD specialist out there looking for work. A teacher just popped her head in my office:

“We should SIG those clicker-responder things!”

I’m glad that SIG had evolved from a 4-letter epithet to a verb replete with hope and promise. I’m glad that we’ll be able to fund the hopes of teachers, families, and students. We’ve earned it. Not because achievement was so persistently low in the first place—it wasn’t—but because the journey has been so unnecessarily arduous. Here’s hoping the road ahead is far more smooth.