The Forgotten Student
The Crisis of Anonymity in American Schools
A sample from the book — the Table of Contents and the complete Foreword. If these pages speak to you, the full book carries the idea into practice, chapter by chapter.
What’s Inside
Foreword — Why Good Is Not Enough
Chapter 1 — What Makes a School Not Just Good, But Great?
Chapter 2 — Why Greatness Matters
Chapter 3 — The Principal Factor
Chapter 4 — The Right Team
Chapter 5 — A Culture of Discipline: Building Legacies That Last
Chapter 6 — Sustaining a Culture of Excellence
Chapter 7 — The Temptation of Revolution
Chapter 8 — Vision Without People
Chapter 9 — The Character of a Great Leader
Chapter 10 — Plow Horse, Not Show Horse
Chapter 11 — The Future of Great Schools
Chapter 12 — The Leadership That Makes Culture Real
Chapter 13 — Educational Issues Facing Our Schools
Chapter 14 — Changing the Conversation: From Standards to Students
Chapter 15 — The Leader’s Blueprint: Turning Vision into Action
Chapter 16 — Creating Environments Where Every Child Is Known
Chapter 17 — Learning Begins with the Learner’s Uniqueness
Chapter 18 — Building a Culture of Professional Growth
Chapter 19 — The Backbone of Our Schools: Professional Development
Chapter 20 — How Leaders Make It All Work in Schools
Chapter 21 — Major Types of Schools
Chapter 22 — Questions and Answers About Mini-Schools
Chapter 23 — Professional Development: The Literacy Foundation
Chapter 24 — Professional Development: Making Learning Visible
Chapter 25 — Professional Development: The Infrastructure That Holds It Together
Chapter 26 — The Future Is in Your Hands
Foreword — Why Good Is Not Enough
The Hallway Stampede
When I first stepped into the role of principal, I thought I had a good grasp of what a “large school” entailed. However, standing in the hallway of Middle School 118 during the busy change of classes, I felt the size of the challenge. It was not just a crowded corridor; it was like a flowing river of 1,400 lively adolescents, moving with the urgency of a fire drill and the playful chaos of a flock of pigeons. A teacher caught my eye and offered a warm smile, a small but meaningful gesture of reassurance. At that moment, I realized it was a turning point, revealing a simple yet powerful truth: the biggest challenge was not the students themselves but creating the right structure to support everyone effectively.
I found myself wondering: in a school this big, how many of these kids does any one adult know? Not just know of, but know their name, their story, who they go home to, what scares them, and what they are capable of. The truth that stayed with me was simple: not many. In a school with 1,400 students, a child might go four years without a single adult in the building seeing them. That moment of realization changed the direction of my whole career.
This book is born of many years of grappling with a belief: every child who walks into a public school deserves to be seen. The solution I often come back to, and have witnessed transforming schools from within, is the idea of a mini-school. But before I share why mini-schools are so powerful, I need to highlight a tougher truth: the biggest challenge holding our schools back from real excellence is not failure. It is the subtle, cozy trap of settling for being just good enough.
The Problem With “Good”
People often told me, “Your school is doing good,” and I would smile and say thank you. However, deep down, I felt uneasy about that word: good. To me, good is what you say about a turkey sandwich — polite and neutral. Good means nobody got hurt, but in education, I have come to see that this kind of comfortable, unremarkable adequacy can actually be one of the most dangerous places a school can find itself.
Jim Collins shared some insightful thoughts in his book Good to Great, noting that being satisfied with being good can prevent organizations from reaching greatness. He emphasized that the biggest risk is not for struggling organizations but for those that are comfortable and complacent (Collins, 2001).
While he was mainly talking about businesses, I want to acknowledge that applying his ideas to public education needs some thoughtful care. Schools are not the same as companies, and you cannot evaluate a child’s progress in the same way you assess quarterly profits. Still, the core idea remains powerful and close to my heart: when a school feels it is doing okay, the motivation to push for even better results often quietly fades.
Walking into most urban public schools today, you will see real reasons for hope. Test scores have risen over the past 20 years, more students are graduating, and teachers are working harder and smarter than ever before; these are significant improvements that matter. However, I sometimes wonder: after so many years of reform efforts and billions of dollars spent, why are there not more exceptional schools? Schools recognized as Blue Ribbon Schools go beyond being good; they become great. Schools that not only help students earn a diploma but also guide them toward a better future. Schools where every child is known, challenged, supported, and believed in.
I believe the answer is this: when schools reach a certain level of quality, the people around them — parents, administrators, and policymakers — often breathe a sigh of relief. They might confuse progress with reaching a destination. As a result, the challenging, meaningful work of creating something outstanding is often quietly pushed aside because it is easier to protect what has already been accomplished.
Good results are comforting; they bring reassurance. Yet, just like in life, comfort in education can sometimes prevent us from seeing what is still possible and worth striving for.
What Greatness Is Actually Made Of
I want to be upfront about something: greatness in a school is not always what we might picture. It does not always appear as a charismatic principal delivering an inspiring speech or a flashy new initiative launched with excitement at the beginning of the year. It is not just about the mission statement or those eye-catching posters in the main office. Genuine greatness tends to be more subtle and, honestly, more challenging. It is rooted in the everyday choices we make, even when no one is watching or applauding.
Over the course of my career in schools, I have come to believe that excellent schools are built on four commitments that are not discussed nearly enough.
The first principle is people before programs. Every great school I have ever seen became that way because of who was in it, not because of the initiatives in place. Recruiting and retaining educators who are genuinely committed to every child is the most important thing a school leader does. Everything else builds on that foundation, or it builds nothing at all.
The second principle is disciplined simplicity, and it often catches people off guard. We usually assume that better schools require more programs, assessments, and initiatives. And yet, from my experience, the opposite is often true. When schools add layer after layer of new requirements, teachers can feel overwhelmed and spread thin, students may sense a lack of clarity, and leaders might mistake busyness for actual progress. Excellent schools are often those brave enough to cut through the clutter and concentrate wholeheartedly on what genuinely matters.
The third principle is about leading with both humility and backbone. Research shows that the most effective school leaders are not necessarily the loudest voices. Instead, they stand firm on what matters — like values, vision, and non-negotiables — while remaining curious and open-minded about everything else. They build trust by freely giving credit and foster a positive culture by showing up consistently, day after day.
The fourth principle, and often the most overlooked, is building for durability. A school that relies solely on one outstanding leader is not great; it is fragile. Genuine excellence withstands change, navigates disruptions smoothly, and is carried forward through generations of passionate educators as a vibrant tradition. Achieving this kind of resilience does not happen by chance; it must be intentionally built into the school’s fabric.
Why Mini-Schools?
Think of those four commitments as the foundation, with mini-schools being the way we bring them to life. A mini-school creates a close-knit, stable learning community, usually with 75 to 125 students, tucked inside a larger public school. A dedicated team of teachers works closely with the same group of students, often planning together and sharing the responsibility for every child’s success. It requires no new building, no lottery, no tuition — just a thoughtful reorganization of the school. This approach is based on decades of developmental psychology research showing that young adolescents flourish best when they have consistent, caring relationships with adults who understand them.
I understand what some readers might be wondering: haven’t we explored this idea before? Small learning communities have been around since the early 1990s, with varying degrees of success. That is accurate, and I want to acknowledge that. Research shows that when implemented effectively, small learning communities can positively impact student engagement, attendance, and achievement.
What this book aims to convey, based on two decades of experience, is that the key difference between a mini-school that genuinely transforms a child’s experience and one that merely reorganizes existing structures lies in the culture, leadership, and structural conditions that foster authentic community.
It is also helpful to reflect on why other models, despite their promise, might not fully solve this challenge. Why do mini-schools tend to succeed where others struggle? Charter schools introduce innovation, yet lotteries can limit who gets in. Magnet schools often motivate students, but their themes sometimes require extra resources. Private schools foster a close community, but their high tuition can be a hurdle for many families. Microschools offer tailored learning experiences, though they may not be easy to expand widely.
Homeschooling gives families a lot of control, but it relies heavily on parents’ capacity. What makes a well-designed mini-school within a public school so special is its ability to serve every child in every neighborhood, without lotteries, tuition, or families having to leave their community behind.
What Is Ahead
The upcoming chapters offer a practical guide to creating mini-schools that stand the test of time. These are places where the school culture endures beyond any single leader, and every child, year after year, feels sincerely cared for and supported. This framework is inspired by my own firsthand experience as a practitioner, and I hope it inspires you as much as it has motivated me.
This framework thoughtfully includes everything from hiring and retaining the right people to creating schedules that encourage teacher collaboration. It also emphasizes building meaningful relationships with families, turning them into partners rather than just occasional visitors. Each part is interconnected, so removing one can weaken the whole structure. When these elements are kept together, they open up exciting possibilities for what can be achieved.
More Than a Program — A Way of Thinking
Let me clarify something important: mini-schools are not just an extra program to add. We have tried that for many years, introducing new binders, initiatives, and slogans, but often they sit unused while the child’s daily experience in seat 14 of Room 212 remains unchanged. Mini-schools are not another task to check off a list. Instead, they embody a whole new way of thinking about what a school is and who it is meant for.
Principals thrive when they foster a culture of collaboration instead of just managing rules. Teachers come together to plan and share ideas, rather than working alone behind closed doors. School schedules become opportunities for teamwork, not just convenience. Professional development becomes part of everyday life, not a one-time event in a hotel ballroom. The curriculum connects subjects rather than isolating them. Support for students who are struggling is proactive, catching kids before they fall instead of after. These elements are the foundation, not just extras. Just like in architecture, removing a key piece can threaten the whole structure.
I have seen the power of this approach. I watched a bustling Bronx middle school — the kind where a student could easily get lost for years — turn into an inspiring community. Teachers who understand their students’ stories, students who walk through the halls feeling like they belong, and families who are treated as partners — these changes did not happen because of a new program. Instead, they came from rethinking everything around one simple, bold idea: that every single child deserves to be known and understood.
I want to be honest with you: none of this happened overnight, and it certainly was not easy. Mini-schools are not a quick fix. Simply splitting a large school into smaller groups does not automatically foster a sense of belonging if the culture, leadership, and underlying structures are misaligned. The twenty-one components discussed in this book’s chapters make all the difference between a mini-school that endures and one that quietly slips back into old patterns within a year or two. Each component is vital. When they come together, they create something genuinely transformative.
I find myself returning to that hallway in the Bronx one last time. Over the years, I have walked through countless school hallways, but the ones that genuinely stay with me are not necessarily the ones packed with the newest technology or the most impressive programs. Instead, it is the atmosphere where the sounds feel warm and familiar, where students carry themselves with a sense of belonging, and where a teacher calls out a child’s name across a lively corridor to say hello rather than reprimand. These moments remind me of the special connections that make a school feel like home.
This is what matters most. While test scores, slogans, and reform plans are important, they are not the whole story. At its core, it is about building schools where each child feels seen and valued, where every adult cares and takes responsibility, and where the environment is thoughtfully crafted to create a sense of belonging. When children feel like they belong, they become more excited to learn. And when they do, remarkable things can happen.
Greatness is not just a distant dream; it is something we can reach each day through small, steady efforts. Any school willing to embrace this commitment can make it a natural part of its everyday journey and turn greatness into reality.
Thank you for reading. If this Foreword resonated with you, I invite you to explore the full book.