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Monday, Oct. 19, 1998
Their Eight Secrets of Success
It's every parent's hope. One that is nourished by that first toothless grin of recognition, by the infant gaze of almost uncanny alertness and then by the stunning acquisition of words, of ABCs and 1-2-3s. "My child is bright. My child will excel in school. My child will make me proud." Industries are built on such aspirations. There are black-and-white mobiles to stimulate the senses and tapes of Mozart for Your Mind. Later come investments in Reader Rabbit software, encyclopedias and lessons to train every facet of body, brain and soul. But a child's success cannot be purchased, nor, to the frustration of parents everywhere, can it be wished into being.
What does it take to make an excellent student? The student who not only sits at the head of the class (and the horn section, the swim team, the debate society and yearbook) but also enjoys the respect and friendship of teachers and peers? The encouragement of a parent or two certainly provides a foundation. But to find out more, TIME interviewed dozens of superb students from across the country, along with their parents, teachers, mentors and friends. What emerged is some clear patterns and some lessons well worth studying.
THE SWEAT FACTOR
The brick house on a treelined street in Newark, N.J., is impeccable: the iron fence gleams with fresh black paint; the emerald grass looks newly mowed. Inside, the carefully arranged furnishings glow as if purchased yesterday. Everything in the Paliz family home is a reflection of hard work and pride in accomplishment, especially the Palizes themselves.
Bismarck Jonathan Paliz, 17, has watched his immigrant parents struggle and sacrifice to make a life for the family. His father, born in Ecuador, slowly built up a real estate business. His Puerto Rican-born mother Wadette, an administrative assistant, began working at 18 as an office clerk, taking courses to improve her skills and minimal time off for the birth of each of her three children. The family suffered major setbacks when their home was badly damaged twice by fire. Watching his parents rebuild, Bismarck, the eldest child, learned the value of persistence. "My parents have always been fighters," he says. "They are my mentors. They've led by example. They've kept me on track."
The honors track, that is. Bismarck, aptly called Bizzy by friends, was valedictorian at his middle school, and is contending for that honor next June at Science High School, one of Newark's "magnet" schools. He is a star player on the school's math and chemistry teams, and is so computer-savvy that the union pension and benefit fund where his mother works pays him $15 an hour after school to solve technical problems. He may not need the money for college, though. Even before he had thought about applying, he won a $40,000 scholarship to Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, N.Y.
Teachers call Bismarck one of the best students they have ever seen. "He's in the top 1%, not just in terms of ability but in terms of positive attitude, initiative and motivation," says Susan Rocco, who has been teaching math for 24 years. More surprising is that Bismarck is not regarded by schoolmates as a hopeless nerd who hangs only with fellow brainiacs. "He's not a teacher's pet," attests his buddy Ruben Ramirez, a self-described jock. "You'd think with all that work, he'd be boring and uptight, but he's loose and he's real funny." Bismarck, for his part, says he just likes to work hard: "I'm happier knowing I'm doing the most I can and achieving the highest I can."
What Bismarck has in abundance is a quality found in all top students: he takes pleasure not merely in the achievement but in the effort. "Students like Bismarck are not expecting things just to happen for them," notes his chemistry teacher, Bruce Karpe. "They're not expecting to be geniuses. They know they have to do it on their own."
A willingness to work flat-out is a trait found almost universally in the best students, says Karen Arnold, a Boston College associate professor of higher education. Arnold has spent 17 years following the lives of 81 Illinois students who graduated at the top of their class. These valedictorians, she found, relied less on native intelligence than on effort. "They were hardworking. They were persistent. School was at the center of their lives."
How do kids learn this? Usually, it's the same way Bismarck learned: having parents who show through their own behavior that persistence pays. A new book by Judith Rich Harris, The Nurture Assumption, has caused a sensation by claiming that parents matter less than peers in shaping a child. Educators tend to disagree. Parents of good students play an essential part as role models, says Janet Won, acting principal at P.S. 124, an elementary school in New York City's Chinatown that runs a "gifted and talented" program. They've taught their kids to "persevere and ask questions, and shown them that hard work will pay off. When the kids make mistakes, it's looked upon as a chance to learn to do something better, rather than as something punitive." The best students, adds Won, "have parents who have responded to their curiosity, nourished and supported things they're interested in and opened up their world."
THE JOY OF LEARNING
Enjolique Aytch of Atlanta was not fated to be a good student. When she was 10 months old, she suffered a seizure and fell into a coma for 24 hours. Doctors warned her mother Cheryl that Enjolique would probably be mentally disabled. Cheryl didn't buy that prognosis. She was convinced that both Enjolique and her older brother Richard were "naturally intelligent" and that all she had to do was offer the right stimulation. "Babies have such a thirst for knowledge! If you can capture their imagination right then, it seems to last forever, but if you let that window close, it's lost forever."
Enjolique, now 17, has emerged a luminous, perceptive teenager who excels at debate, ranks in the top 15% of her class and served last year as class vice president and co-captain of the majorettes. She radiates enthusiasm for school and is one of a small number of African-American students in the advanced-placement classes at Grady High School. "There are others that could do it," she says, "but they get caught up in the stereotypical, 'AP, that's nerdy.'" Physics teacher Delphia Bryant admires Enjolique's can-do spirit: "She's one of those people who will rule the world."
Her mother, a divorced truck driver, was herself a good student before dropping out of all-black Spelman College. She took to "opening the window" with gusto. When teaching her kids the difference between hot and cold, for instance, she made learning fun by steaming up the sink with hot water, rather than waiting to scold a child for venturing too near a hot stove. "It's all in the presentation," she says with a twinkle.
What Cheryl Aytch did for her daughter--what the best preschool teachers all do--was to incorporate learning into everyday life and make it lively. "This means that instead of telling a five-year-old about apples or reading about them in a book, you go pick apples, you peel apples and make apple sauce and apple pies," says Wendy Derrow, a family therapist in Orlando, Fla. "It's that pure, healthy, aren't-we-lucky-to-be-together environment that grows great learners."
Good students tend to have what teachers call a broad "fund of knowledge." They've been taken places; they've seen a bit of the world. If the family resources are slim, it might only be to the city park, a train yard or the kitchen of a restaurant. But the experience has been brought to life for them. "I find the students I love will often say to me, 'My mom took me here' or 'My dad and I did this.' You know these parents are in their lives," says Carol Klavins, who's been teaching middle-school science in central Florida for 31 years. "So many kids never mention their parents!"
THE BEST SAT PREP
Teachers lucky enough to be part of the pre-International Baccalaureate program at Robinson Middle School in Wichita, Kans., are used to classes full of bright, motivated kids. But even in this heady environment, Tyler Emerson stands out. Tyler's 12-year-old mind runs deep, notes one of his sixth-grade teachers, Lura Atherly. "He questions things, but not with surface questions. He asks extending questions: Why? What if...?" When the class studied the Russian Revolution, Tyler wanted to discuss what would have happened if the Romanovs had escaped: What if they had come back after the fall of communism? His writing also reflects an uncommon mix of the imaginative and the methodical. He prefers to write on deadline: "It feels like a deadline unlocks a chest where all my creativity is locked," he explains.
Tyler's thirsty, questing mind was forged in a house full of books. His parents, both lawyers, and his grandmother, who lives with them in Wichita's affluent College Hill, are passionate readers. They began reading to him nightly when he was a baby. By 15 months, he was turning the pages of his Dr. Seuss books, already aware that something wonderful was going on. Tyler's parents still read to his brother John, 8. With Ty, they discuss the Tolkien and Asimov books that are his current favorites. "This house could collapse from the weight of books," says his dad Jeff.
As director of admissions at highly selective Williams College in Massachusetts, Tom Parker is often asked by parents, "What should I do to increase my child's scores on the Scholastic Assessment Tests or make him a better college candidate?" Start early, Parker tells them. "The best SAT-preparation course in the world is to read to your children in bed when they're little. Eventually, if that's a wonderful experience for them, they'll start to read for themselves." Parker says he has never met a kid with high scores on the verbal section of the sat who wasn't a passionate reader. "At the breakfast table, these kids read the cereal boxes. That's what readers do!"
The benefits of reading to kids may seem obvious, but parents tend to stop just when the child's own ability to get through a book is taking flight. Don't quit then! says Regie Routman, a nationally recognized expert on literacy and author of several books for teachers. "Some of the best readers and writers--even in middle school and high school--have parents who are still reading to them. They'll be reading Beowulf and Macbeth and just enjoying the love of language with them."
GRADES AREN'T EVERYTHING
Stephen George Jr. moves through the hallways at Brookline High, near Boston, with the loping grace of a fine athlete. Girls smile at him and are rewarded with his big, Denzel Washington dazzler. Boys reach out to slap his palm. Stephen, 17, is irresistible. Kids are impressed that he's snagged one of the world's coolest after-school jobs: ball boy for the Boston Celtics. Teachers adore his diligence and willingness to stretch beyond what is required. And everyone is amazed that despite his achievements as a student (3.4 average), an athlete (baseball, track and golf), a musician (honors choir) and volunteer (Big Brother, among others), he remains, as headmaster Robert Weintraub puts it, "the nicest guy on the planet, the most decent guy in the school."
Academic competition can get pretty ugly, especially in the home stretch of high school, when valedictory honors and college applications loom. "We have students who would cut off somebody's feet to get ahead," says chemistry teacher Bob Cunningham. "Stephen's not like that. He's actually helpful to others in the lab, which would be anticompetitive." English teacher Denise Bacote agrees, "Some kids say, 'Give me an A.' Stephen asks what he can do to earn an A." Bacote recalls when Stephen insisted on revising an article he wrote for a journalism class, even though it was already graded. "He did another version just to see how to do it better. I think that's the key to student success--working not just for a grade but to improve skills."
Top students tend to be competitive, but getting the grades is not what drives them. For students like Stephen George, Bismarck Paliz, Enjolique Aytch or Tyler Emerson, the goal is internal: to do their personal best. "A lot of the time I'm competing against myself," says Stephen. "I'm setting goals and trying to reach them."
Research suggests that when schools or parents put undue emphasis on grades, learning suffers. A recent study of 412 fifth-graders by Claudia Mueller and Carol Dweck at Columbia University found that kids who are praised for their performance and inherent intelligence are less willing to take risks and have trouble weathering any sort of failure. Kids who receive praise for their hard work and persistence tend to blame failure not on a lack of ability but on not trying hard enough. "This encourages them to sustain their motivation, performance and self-esteem," says Dweck.
Alfie Kohn, an educator in Cambridge, Mass., who writes and speaks on behavioral issues, is perhaps the country's most outspoken critic of education's fixation on grades, test scores and class rankings. All this, argues the author of the influential 1993 book Punished by Rewards and a new book, What to Look for in a Classroom, kills off the love of learning and replaces it with superficial, grade-grubbing behavior. Kohn is appalled by parents who try to motivate their kids by paying for good grades: "You can almost watch the interest in learning evaporate before your eyes!"
Kohn's advice to parents: Stop asking your kids how they did in school today, and ask instead about what they did. "If you have five minutes, talk with your kids for five minutes about what unexpected ideas she came across, or how he feels when he figures something out. Help the child forget about grades, so learning has a chance."
FEED THEIR PASSIONS
Like many little boys in the tricycle years, Mike Terry of Evanston, Ill., loved things that go vroom. Cars in particular. But as he grew older, his fascination didn't fade; it just shifted into higher gear. At age 9, he had a transcendent experience: the Chicago Auto Show, 10 hours of "heaven on earth." From that day on, recalled Mike, now 13, in a seventh-grade paper, "the auto show has been named a 'religious holiday' in the Terry family."
Corvette and Ferrari posters grace the walls of Mike's remarkably tidy bedroom. But the depth of his passion is better gauged by peering into his closet. There, carefully filed, are some 100 issues of Car and Driver, Motor Trend and Road & Track magazines, and also four shelves bearing his miniature sports car collection.
Mike's dad Tom, an actuary, used to be worried that his son's obsession with cars was unhealthy or crazy, but then he began to see its intellectual value. "There's processing of information going on, and he comes up with sophisticated relationships. He'll recommend different cars to different families based on their needs," says Terry. "I realized that it's a passion that could translate into other passions as an adult."
Indeed, indulging Mike's passion for cars may have helped him develop the habit of pursuing all his interests with imagination and depth. The progressive school Mike attends doesn't use conventional grades or report cards, but his performance stands out just the same. "Some students run through their work as if they're on a racetrack. But Mike has the introspection and reflectiveness of a scholar," observes his Latin teacher, Elisa Denja. "His interest in a topic doesn't end in the classroom or with what's in the book."
The word passion comes up a lot when college admissions directors are asked what they look for in a student. "There are lots of students out there who can do the work and get the A's," says Robert Kinnally, dean of admissions at Stanford University. "But who are the students who care deeply about the subject matter and will stay after to ask their teacher for another book?" Both Kinnally and Williams College's Parker bemoan the fact that so many college applicants are "packaged" and pushed by their parents. "Parents are trying to mold their children in ways that would please us," says Parker, "rather than recognizing passions or strong commitments in their children and then encouraging the heck out of those."
One place competitive colleges search for signs of genuine commitment is in extracurricular activities. For many students and their parents, extracurricular activities are a kind of flavor enhancer to sprinkle on a resume: a dash of music, a pinch of poetry club, a soupcon of athletics. But what folks like Kinnally know is that a meaty involvement with any of these activities builds valuable traits like persistence, leadership and the ability to work in teams.
THAT SPECIAL TEACHER
Huan Song arrived in a Chicago suburb two years ago unable to speak much English, but possessed of as much grit as a 14-year-old can muster. The child of divorced middle-class parents in China, she had been sent by her father to live with an aunt and uncle. "I could have had a comfortable life in China, but my father thought I'd have a better future and a more exciting life in the U.S. He made a great sacrifice to let me come here to have a good future."
After just one semester at Glenbard East High School, Huan wanted out of English as a second language classes. She knew they became a way of life for many foreign-born students. Her guidance counselor and teachers warned that she might fail, but the tenacious Huan proved them wrong. Now a senior, she maintains perfect grades in honors classes, competes in debates, is on the math team and serves as vice president of the school choir. "I don't want to sound pompous," she says in her accented but perfect English, "but I just had to fight my way up."
Along the way, Huan found some cherished mentors at school and at church. They helped guide her, particularly when she faced a personal tragedy. Last fall she was eagerly awaiting her father's first visit to the U.S. when he died in a freak accident. Huan's father was a sound engineer by profession, and he and his daughter shared a passion for music. After his death, however, music filled her with pain. "Music is such an intimate thing," says Huan. "The memories it brought up made me sad. So I thought I had to get away from music." Her choral teacher, Ross Heise, interceded. "We hugged and cried together," he recalls. "I told her you can't run away from your problems. You have to embrace them to make you a better, deeper person." Huan regained her balance because of his help and because, she says, "I have love from all over."
Most outstanding students have an outstanding teacher lurking somewhere in their past, a teacher who somehow connected with them. Karen Arnold found this was true of the valedictorians she studied. Principals and parents confirm it. "If you talk with kids, they will tell you about someone who has captured their imagination--gotten hold of them emotionally and intellectually," says Fred Ginocchio, principal of Madison Middle School in Appleton, Wis. He remembers his own third-grade teacher making this kind of breakthrough for him, by reading the autobiography of Black Hawk to the class. "I can picture her still," he recalls. "I was totally taken in. I was a kid who was on the playground all the time. After she read it, I checked it out, and it was the first book I read."
A 1997 study at Columbia University's Teachers College looked at the lives of 100 prominent Americans, ages 40 to 55, and found that those who had come from disadvantaged backgrounds were especially likely to cite the influence of a mentor as a key to their success. Sometimes a caring teacher served "as a parent substitute," says Charles Harrington, who co-directed the study. Sometimes the teacher provided an affirming "turnaround moment," for example, by standing up for a child and saying, "Henry wouldn't lie." That moment of validation, he notes, "transforms Henry."
THE RULES ON HOMEWORK
Structurally, Donny Williams' family sounds like a mess. His mom Darlene had her first child while still in high school. Seven years later, she met and married Donny's father; the marriage lasted 11 years. Donny, now 11, lives in a Randallstown, Md., town house with his mother, his half sister Dawn, 25, and Dawn's child Crystal, 7. Five years ago, the family also took in Donny's cousin Garland, 17, who was struggling with family problems.
Complicated and confusing? Yes. But everyone is thriving. Donny graduated from Winand Elementary School in June and received the Principal's Award, one of the school's highest honors. Other credits: he was acting president of the student government, most valuable player in his basketball league, a Little League star and an accomplished saxophone player. Teachers describe Donny as a natural leader who lights up a room with his charm. His success, says assistant principal Judi Callanan Devlin, "is due to his innate ability and his work ethic--and then his mother is very clear about her expectations for him."
Darlene, a captain in the Maryland Army National Guard, runs a tight ship. "Homework is when they come in the door," she insists. "They see nothing, do nothing, until homework is done, and the saxophone is part of that requirement." Donny seems to relish this kind of structure and has a firm grasp on his complicated schedule of sports practices, music lessons, church classes and other commitments. He isn't one to procrastinate: his basketball coach and music teacher marvel at Donny's enthusiasm, even for repetitive drills and scales. "It's such an insight for kids to know the power of practice at such a young age!" muses Devlin. As for his mom's homework-first policy, no problem. Says Donny: "I made it up myself!"
Do most good students crack their books the minute they get home? Are the Williams-family rules the way to success? Not necessarily. Bismarck Paliz likes to work late at night. "I've had projects due the next day, and I've had to stay up till 5 a.m.," he says. His multimedia work style horrifies his mother: "He has the TV on, the headphones on his ears, and he's doing his homework on the computer," says Wadette Paliz with a shudder. But she doesn't argue with success. Stephen George has also been known to do homework with the television blaring. "Initially I objected," says his father Stephen Sr., "but he convinced me he was able to focus."
If there is a rule on homework, it's this: let them do it in the way that works for them. Not every child needs silence and a desk facing the wall. Not every child can settle down to the task right after school.
Another rule on homework: be involved, but not too much. Math-homework sessions at Mike Terry's house used to end in tears. "I would lose patience with him," admits Tom Terry, who excelled in math as a youth. "Comparing him to the ways I might have done things at his age didn't work." He had to learn to be less overbearing and to see things from his son's point of view. "We care passionately about how he's doing, but we're just calmer on the outside." Says Mike's mother Karen: "Kids are not vending machines, where you put in a quarter and then a certain product comes out. There's only so much you can do, and then you have to sit back and wave at them."
The same rule applies to parental involvement with the school: be involved, but make sure it's constructive. Parents of successful students are advocates for their child but are supportive, rather than combative, toward the school. "These aren't parents who blame you and want to know why the system didn't come through for their child," says Shirley Harden, principal of Winand Elementary, Donny Williams' alma mater. "They want to know how they can work with you and make things best for their kids."
STAND UP AND CHEER
Sarah Seidman, 17, arrives home from school bearing a deep-blue bowl intricately glazed with a silhouetted tree, its branches looping over the rim and into the bowl's basin. "Oh, my God, that's beautiful!" exclaims her mom Ilene about her daughter's handiwork. Pottery is just one of Sarah's talents. The Brookline, Mass., senior is an honor-roll student, co-captain of the tennis team, a painter and an activist against racism. Her parents, both busy professionals, manage to be there to applaud it all.
Sarah's father Larry is an associate professor of psychology at Harvard Medical School. He takes turns with Ilene, a clinical instructor at Harvard Law School, juggling commitments for Sarah and her brother Josh. They strive never to miss a shining moment. But it can be tricky, as Larry makes clear when he describes a hectic day last spring: "On Monday, both Sarah and Josh were playing sports, and Ilene couldn't be there. So I shot out of the office at 4, picked up Josh, took him to his baseball game, then went to Sarah's tennis match, then went to Josh's baseball game till 8. I had a talk to give in Toronto the next day, and I wasn't prepared. So I put my slides together at midnight and flew out at 9 a.m."
Not every parent has the flexibility to leave work at 4 and finish up late at night. Still, making the effort to be present for a child's victories and milestones is vitally important, says Robert Weintraub, headmaster at Brookline High, where Sarah is a student: "Parents must attend every event their child participates in--back-to-school night, plays, shows, games. The kids will say you don't need to come, but you do. It reinforces the importance of school." Just as important, he says, is keeping the day-to-day dialogue going, no matter how reluctant a child might seem. Teenagers, in particular, will seem to push the parent away. "Don't stop when your kid rejects you. Ask to see their papers and exams. The initial response to questions like 'What happened at school today?' may be 'Nothing.' You have to be persistent. School is a very important part of their lives."
Can any child be a good student? Assuming good health and normal intelligence, the answer is probably yes. A great student? Maybe not. Some kids seem to be born organized and focused. Like Mike Terry, they have tidy rooms with a designated place for everything. Like Sarah Seidman, they have long attention spans at a young age. "There's a strong correlation between a good student and things like time management and organization," notes Dan Walls, dean of admissions of Emory University in Atlanta. Kids blessed with these qualities may have a natural advantage over kids who have to struggle to keep order--although those who keep up the struggle will ultimately develop persistence, the most valuable trait a student can have.
For parents who despair of ever seeing an honor-roll mention, there is this bit of consolation from Arnold's valedictorian study. Conventionally good students tend to wind up as conventional successes. "I hate to use the word conformists," says Arnold of her high achievers, "but they were aware of and willing to deal with the rules of the system." Bill Gates was not a conventionally good student. Neither was Thomas Edison nor Ernest Hemingway nor most of the world's truly creative brains. But don't kid yourself either. It just isn't true that Einstein flunked out of math.
--Reported by Wendy Cole/Chicago, Emily Mitchell/Wichita, Megan Rutherford/New York and Sarah J.M. Tuff/Atlanta
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