Anthony Fuller Portfolio Homepage
Biography
Like all people, Anthony Fuller’s life has been inexorably formed by different events that he did not immediately understand. Such events, because they were not familiar or conventional and thus had no inherent meaning or explanation, became a sort of koan and thus sent him off on years of self-reflection. These disparate experiences were many yet two stood out. Anthony’s experience living in Oran, Algeria in 1969 and becoming diagnosed with JRA, or Junior Rheumatoid Arthritis at the age of 11.
In 1969 Anthony’s father became a Fulbright Professor assigned to teach writing at the University of Oran in Algeria. His family moved to a large apartment building outside of the city on a vast empty plain. The building was occupied by the families of other foreign born (though white in appearance) faculty from the University. Surrounding the building, about 90 feet out from the foundations, was a five-foot tall chain-link fence. The only other structure visible in any direction was an identical building on the other side of the fence approximately a quarter mile away. In it was housed the non-white enemy, the local kids. Though time has blurred the details, the daily ritual at that building involved a miniature race war played out by those mimicking the mores of society around them. The fence was the border, the weapons were rocks and the participants were children. The rocks flew back and forth every single day. Sometimes these battles involved many, often it might be a few kids on each side, but always the rocks flew.
Towards the end of his fathers’ assignment, after Anthony had hurled many hundreds of rocks over the fence (not knowing if any hit their intended target), he stood one day looking out of a small hole through a translucent window. He was standing on the half landing of a staircase leading up to the floor where his family lived. He watched a lone Algerian kid on the other side of the fence look up to meet Anthony’s eyes looking back through the hole in the frosted glass. While he doesn’t remember seeing him (her?) picking up the rock, something hit Anthony right between the eyes and life changed forever.
Why did this happen?
Fast forward to his 11th year. That summer on a road trip through the American Southwest, Anthony’s autoimmune disorder began to manifest itself in the form of excruciating physical pain. It became so bad that he was flown home to San Francisco where he was admitted to Children’s Hospital. He was to spend the next six weeks of his summer there. The next two years of his illness coincided with his emerging adolescence and the combination proved difficult on his family. He could not run or even jog without experiencing great discomfort. He walked with a cane for one year (cooler than a crutch). His grades and school attendance declined precipitously. In eighth grade, he was kicked out of his catholic school and six months later, a more progressive private school. Ultimately, his role as an outsider benefitted his perspective on the world, but at the time it created tremendous upheaval within his family and significant physical suffering.
Why did this happen?
Being on the outside was difficult for many, many years. Anthony wouldn’t change a thing.
Anthony attended the College of Idaho where he received my B.A. in History 1988. An interest in Politics led him to write his thesis about a maverick legislator named Senator Frank Church. A progressive in a Conservative state, he also had a life challenged. A life of service saved him.
Anthony found his way back to San Francisco and started to pursue the life of an actor, waiting tables at night while auditioning during the day. He learned to hate the whole endeavor fairly quickly but had no other aims or plans until he made a fateful decision one day to get his Emergency 30-day teaching credential in order to work as a Substitute teacher. After the first few weeks he spent in a classroom, he knew that teaching was his future. It was, and seemed important. It had gravitas. All of the experiences of his life seemed to be a part of what was happening in schools. The questions he couldn’t answer and the person he wanted to be were somehow related to the experiences he had during those first few months. And they led to many more questions.
He taught in San Francisco until 1998, when his pregnant wife and he moved to L.A., ostensibly to pursue an acting career, but his day job was increasingly becoming more relevant to him than a career as an entertainer. Working in LAUSD and being assigned to schools in south-central reminded him of his assignments back in Hunters Point, San Francisco. Poor neighborhoods and schools existing in such close proximity to some of the wealthiest individuals in the world was, and continues to be, perplexing.
Why did this happen?
In 2002 he decided to get his full credential and shed his title of dilettante actor. Life in education seemed decidedly more important. By 2004, he had earned both his secondary teaching credential and a Masters of Secondary Education from pay-for-your-degree educational sausage factory known as National University. In or about the same time, he was fortunate enough to be hired as the science teacher at Olympic Continuation High School in Santa Monica.
The School
The equity and marginalization issues at Olympic Continuation High School in Santa Monica are various but mainly relate to the fact that the student population is not representative of the community it serves. The percentage of Black and Latino students is significantly higher and the percentage of white students significantly lower than other schools in the district. Due to the transitory nature of continuing education, most Olympic students attend for part of semester or a year. Few attend for more than one year, even fewer for two. In spite of diligently attempting to create a PTA on campus, we have not been successful. Our parent meetings and Site Councils have great difficulty recruiting parents that are able to commit to the ongoing process.
Not surprisingly, in spite of the fact that in 2006 Santa Monica and Malibu residents passed a school bond measure (BB) in order to provide “increase(d) funding for our schools. This bond money has been utilized to upgrade technology throughout the district, increase safety and security through fire alarm upgrades and gate access improvements, and to modernize and build new facilities at multiple campuses,” work has yet to begin at Olympic. As of March 1st, 2014 we are the only school site where construction has yet to begin.
Our enrollment is predominantly 11th and 12th graders with a few 10th graders. We do not except 9th graders as a rule, except in special cases. The student population vacillates considerably during the course of the school year from approximately 90 to 120 students. There are 7 fully credentialed teachers who also act as academic advisors. Each student is assigned to a teacher-advisor with whom the student is required to sign-in at the beginning of the instructional day and there is an expectation that each advisor cultivate regular communication with each student’s parent or guardian.
Demographics of the school are, again, not reflective of the community at large. Olympic has a far higher percentage of males (63%) than females (37%). Ethnicities of the students break down to; Latino (48%), African American (18%) and White (30%). Approximately 39% of students can be described as socio-economically disadvantaged, 10% are classified as ELL and 10% receive IEP’s through special education services.
The most unique aspect of the school also reflects an almost antithetical idea in education today; trust in the classroom teacher. Due to the fact that no one has the political courage to elucidate just how students with (mostly) low academic skills who are far behind on credits can catch up to their peers while also doing academically rigorous A-G work, our staff innovates constantly. Professional collaboration is so frequent that it cannot be measured and reduced to ensure that all-important concept of accountability. It is as though everyone who walks through our doors gets their own IEP (but without all the incredibly important ‘advocates’ in the room).
In 2011, we were awarded the title of a Model Continuation High School by the state of California, and we have earned the award every year since (including being notified in late February of 2014). In 2010 we became accredited by the Western Association of Schools. In the 2013 Midterm Review we earned the coveted 6-year accreditation.
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