John Marshall High School celebrates a drive-through graduation 2020 on July 17 in Cleveland, OH at Max S. Hayes, 2211 W. 65th St.

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This story is second in a series covering graduations during COVID-19

By Jerry Masek

As a star softball player for 10 years, Abby Peterson learned to hit whatever pitch was thrown. This year, as a graduating senior at St. Joseph Academy, she saw a lot of real-life curve balls and changeups because of the pandemic:

• Her spring softball season washed away completely, including a long-planned trip to Myrtle Beach.
• Her summer softball season was cut in half.
• She watched her graduation “ceremony” on a video at a drive-in theater.
• Her restaurant employment was interrupted.
• Her on-campus college orientation become a virtual experience.
• Prom and the traditional “Walk of Roses” ceremony may or may not happen.

That’s a lot of change to throw at an 18-year-old. Through it all, Abby maintained a 4.2 grade point average, graduated with high honors, and regained her job at Applebee’s Restaurant in Rocky River.

Her positive attitude helped.

“There was a lot of uncertainty this year,” she said. “We never knew what was going to happen. We learned to live in the moment. Nothing in life is guaranteed.”

“Batter up!”

Softball should been a major part of her senior year. Abby pitches and plays infield. During her junior year, the team enjoyed a record-setting 21-6 season.

“This would have been a great year for us. Now, we’re not happy. It’s kind of sad. I really wanted to play one more season,” Abby said.

“An extended break”

“At first, they told us we would be back in 3 weeks, and we were happy for an extended break. Then, the break kept getting longer and longer. The school year ended really fast.”

At home, Abby quickly adopted a routine of waking up early, tackling her work in four subjects, and taking long walks in the Metroparks later in the day. There were a lot of Zoom meetings, e-mail and work in Google Classroom.

“I had never even heard of Zoom before,” she said. “As much as possible, our teachers tried to run the classes as if we were really there.”

It all led up to a graduation ceremony spread out over several days for social distancing. SJA assembled a video of all graduates picking up their diplomas, and played it at drive-in theater in North Ridgeville. Students and their families watched from cars, but classmates were nearby, and the social time was both safe and enjoyable.

A future filled with question marks

Graduation party? Maybe. Prom? Maybe. Walk of Roses? Maybe. When to leave for college? No date set yet.

Abby plans to major in business at Ohio University, and may eventually go into Law or Marketing. Although OU plans to re-open this fall, no date has been set. Orientation has changed from an on-campus to a virtual experience.

“I’m just looking forward to a future without COVID,” Abby said. ” I want a normal freshman year at college, I am going to stay positive and move forward.”

Footnote: Abby’s biggest fans are her parents, Alan and Kelli Peterson — a proud 1993 graduate of SJA.

Dear West Park Friends, Family, Neighbors, and Scholars,

If you drive past West Park Academy, you will see four large banners attached to the front of the school proclaiming what we stand for.  These values are ideals, goals, and inspirations to all who are a part of the school.  But now, more than ever, these are values that must unite us against all things that suffocate our nation, our city, and even our community. 

Those four values are: COMMUNITY, INTEGRITY, RESILIENCE, and EXCELLENCE.  Sadly, we have witnessed our society fail to be a community where love and equality are cherished and held sacred.  We have experienced an utter letdown of integral members of our society who have abused power over others and allowed prejudice and discrimination to be the law of the land.  Some of our leaders and community members have made it impossible for citizens to demonstrate resilience. As we rise, we are torn back down again…and again…and again. We have failed to be profoundly American in our country where we pride ourselves on being able to seek prosperity and independence.  We have failed to be excellent.  

More than ever, we need these values – but more importantly, we need to listen.  We need to learn.  We need to consciously recognize those things that prevent true, full, judgement-free communities that keep racism, xenophobia, hate and prejudices of all kinds from impacting the lives and futures of our community.  

West Park Academy is here to be a part of those dialogues and movements that bring unity, and we will stand for nothing short of it. Our faculty and staff are committed to learning and growing.  And we are committed to being teachers of truth and the histories of all people – especially those of color whose voices have been silenced, experiences invalidated, and histories quieted and nearly erased.  We will stand against the injustices that have plagued our nation for centuries and those injustices that continue to threaten our citizens to this day; we stand against bullies small and tall.

Yours in education and community,

Mr. Jaissle

Principal, West Park Academy

Several Ohio campuses have abysmal success rates for black college students, even as the state pushes for, and desperately needs, more graduates

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By Delece Smith-Barrow and Aaricka Washington, The Hechinger Report

ASHTABULA— Alexis Turner listened carefully as the administrators at the freshman orientation for Kent State University at Ashtabula ticked through the student groups she could join on campus that fall: English Society, Psychology Club, Student Veterans Association. 

She left the auditorium apprehensive. There was no Black Student Union, Latino Student Union or Multicultural Society. 

Once the semester started, it became more apparent why those clubs don’t exist. 

“There’s not a lot of black representation,” said Turner, a black freshman.

Kent State Ashtabula is in a rural county near Cleveland, where black and Latino students make up about a third of the local high school. While Turner is right— black students are underrepresented at the university— hundreds have enrolled in the last decade. 

Very few have succeeded.

The six-year graduation rate for first-time, full-time black students has been zero for five years running, according to federal data. 

University officials said that number fails to capture all its students because Ashtabula is a regional, or satellite, campus. Although Ashtabula offers both associate and bachelor’s degrees, they said, the main campus, Kent State University at Kent, receives credit for Ashtabula’s students who pursue certain bachelor’s degrees. Between fall 2013 and spring 2019, university officials say, 55 black students received an associate or bachelor’s degree from Ashtabula. 

That’s an average of eight a year, at an institution where about 100 black students enroll annually.

When it comes to graduating black students, the university has one of the worst records in Ohio among public colleges and universities, in a state that stands out nationally for how poorly it serves students of color. In Ohio, “black students are half as likely to complete a degree at a public four-year institution compared to white students,” said Marshall Anthony Jr., a research analyst for higher education at Ed Trust. The six-year grad rate for black students in Ohio is about 30 percent, compared to 40 percent for black students nationally.

Related: With white students becoming a minority, public universities push harder to diversify

Ohio has a desperate need for more college graduates, but its problems serving black students contrast with universities across the U.S. that are actively working to attract more diverse students and make sure they succeed. Many college systems in other states are adding more support services, like centers for students of color, data tracking to keep tabs on students’ progress and even cash grants for those facing financial difficulties. 

Though Ashtabula has limited support services targeted for black students, officials at the university said the abysmal graduation rates aren’t their fault. 

School leaders say that their students, many of whom are low-income, must juggle jobs along with their coursework, lengthening the time it takes them to graduate. They also said local public schools don’t prepare young people for the rigor required for university classes. “Before they can enroll in, I’m going to say college-level, courses, they’re in developmental math or developmental English,” said Susan J. Stocker, the dean and chief administrative officer. “They’re taking at least a year to complete prerequisites.”

Across the state, Kent State’s campuses of comparable size are also struggling to serve these students. Among full-time, first-time students at Kent State University Salem, which is 4 percent black, two black students received an associate degree and one received a bachelor’s degree in 2017. At the Tuscarawas campus, also 4 percent black, one black student received an associate degree and zero received a bachelor’s in 2017. Student enrollment hovers between 1,400 and 1,800 students at each institution.

Part of Ohio’s challenge is cost. “Ohio is 45th out of 50 states in college affordability. Like we are one of the worst — the worst places — cost wise,” said Maggie McGrath, director of the Higher Education Compact of Greater Cleveland. 

Cost of attendance is now at $8,101, and 62 percent of students receive federal aid, though it’s often not enough. Between 2004 and 2014, Ohio cut funding for a college grant program for low-income students by 33 percent. The state also consistently decreased spending on colleges and universities for 10 years. In 2018, it spent 16.5 percent less per full-time equivalent student, after adjusting for inflation, than it did in 2008.

Related: Black college students in Illinois get the short end of the financial stick

Yet money doesn’t completely explain why Ohio’s public universities are failing to graduate students of color. 

Campus culture is a major factor in student success, research has found. And black college students at Ashtabula rarely see a faculty member who’s a person of color. This school year, only four of 99 instructional faculty members were people of color. Scholars have long argued that minority faculty provide mentorship for minority students and enrich the classroom in other ways. Nonetheless, at Ashtabula, no programs are underway to increase that number, and no campus administrator is specifically charged with running diversity initiatives.

Turner wishes the university had additional resources for black college students like her, though their numbers are relatively small. Black students at Ashtabula comprise 6 percent of the student body; students of color overall, about 15 percent. “I honestly don’t even really see people my color at school,” she said. 

 “I wish there were more,” she said. “It gives me an unsettling feeling.”

The state should be more proactive with helping black students succeed, said Anthony from Ed Trust. “Public institutions in Ohio most certainly have to do more to serve black students.” 

Kent State University at Ashtabula is small, just four buildings for nearly 2,000 students. The campus is located in Ohio’s northeast corner, bordering Lake Erie, 53 miles from Cleveland. About 17 percent of households in Ashtabula County earn incomes under the federal poverty line, and there are few options for postsecondary education. “We’re the only college in our county,” said Amanda Dolan, director of enrollment management and student services. “We’re our own competition.”

The journey to graduation for most Ashtabula students takes longer than six years because they juggle several responsibilities outside of school. At Ashtabula, 43 percent of students are part-time, which naturally slows their pace for degree attainment. “Eight years for a bachelor’s degree, four years for an associate degree, maybe three and a half for an associate degree,” said Dolan. “Most of our students are working and have families.”

Turner chose Ashtabula largely for its location, 10 minutes from her home, and its price: “I didn’t want any debt,” said Turner. Her federal Pell Grant, reserved for college students with the highest financial need, covers much of her costs. 

If she graduates, she’ll be the first in her family with a college degree. Making sure she succeeds is an urgent problem for this state, and the region.

In Ohio, 44 percent of working-age adults have a certificate or degree, but to keep up with workforce demand that number needs to reach 65 percent. To make Ohio an attractive option for businesses and jobs, the state is pushing for 1 million more adults to get a certificate or degree by 2025.

Manufacturing dominates here, meaning that, for decades, some of the best jobs haven’t required a college degree. Most residents have a high school diploma, yet only 28 percent have a bachelor’s degree or higher, according to Census data. But in Ohio the high-wage jobs that are growing the fastest now require more education.

Jobs in health care are expanding, which is a plus for Turner, who is studying nursing, a career that could propel her into the middle class.

Turner attended Ashtabula’s high school, Lakeside High, where almost every student is economically disadvantaged. The Ohio Department of Education gave Lakeside an F for its ability to prepare students for life after high school. Turner says Lakeside required her class to take the ACT college-entrance exam her junior year, but didn’t actively help students study. For the Lakeside class of 2016, just 37 percent entered college within two years. 

“I wasn’t prepared for it,” said Turner, who scored less than 20.3, the average score for Ohio test takers.

Students of all backgrounds struggle at Ashtabula. Its eight-year grad rate is 26 percent.

Related: Many state flagship universities leave black and Latino students behind

University officials say they offer plenty of help outside of class for students to get up to speed. Ashtabula regularly has more than a dozen tutors available, and can increase the number depending on need, said Carol Jones, coordinator of academic services. Students receive academic advising and can visit the writing center, sign up for tutoring or attend supplemental instruction.

Supplemental instruction “targets our historically difficult classes,” said Jones. These are classes in which students often get a grade of D or F, such as anatomy and physiology. Supplemental instruction, just like the campus’ tutoring program and writing center offerings, is optional. The instructors for the supplemental learning option spend three hours a week going over lectures, preparing students for exams and offering other guidance.

As a nursing major, Turner has taken classes in anatomy and physiology, chemistry and English, a rigorous course load that has had her in class until 7 p.m. some evenings. The irregularity of the college course schedule places more responsibility on her to keep up with class material. 

Now, “it’s harder for me to remember everything and stay fresh on all of the content,” she said.

Many students are unable to persist through the tough classes and, as a result, leave the university. Ashtabula had the lowest retention rate of full-time students in 2017 — 44 percent — out of all the public colleges and universities in Ohio.

With so many institutions with low retention and graduation rates, the state has taken a few recent steps to make college more enticing and affordable. In July, Gov. Mike DeWine signed legislation to increase funding for Ohio’s college grant program by $50 million over two years. 

And even with a significant depletion of the state’s budget because of the covid-19 pandemic,  “everything possible will be done to ensure that these higher-level per-student award amounts are maintained in the next academic year,” said Ohio Department of Higher Education Chancellor Randy Gardner in a statement. 

DeWine has also said that public institutions will be required to guarantee that students will pay the same tuition their freshman, sophomore, junior and senior years. The covid-19 crisis, however, may hurt these efforts to improve student outcomes. The state’s revenue is down by almost $777 million, and in May the governor reduced the state’s higher education budget by $110 million.

Changing the culture of the institutions, however, while challenging, could reap more benefits, education experts say. Diverse college classrooms can help students sharpen their critical-thinking and problem-solving skills. Students of color in such classrooms are also at a lower risk of experiencing discrimination, which can affect how and if they excel. 

When a student doesn’t see others like them, it can affect their performance and persistence in school, says McGrath. “They don’t feel comfortable,” she said.

At orientation this summer, Deahrah Williams, a black student, was already considering transferring to another university after she finishes a year at Ashtabula. 

“I feel like, as African Americans, when we get a chance to leave or do something better, we take the chance,” Williams said. 

She grew up in Ashtabula, and says her father wants her to go south for college because he thinks there will be more opportunities.

Nate Ritchey, vice president for Kent State System Integration, which requires him to be a bridge between the Kent campus and the regional institutions and keep track of enrollment at all of the universities, agrees that the university system should be doing more to recruit and support students of color. “There’s a need across the regional campuses to increase diversity. That’s absolutely true,” he said.

“In the last couple of years, we’ve invested in a lot of recruiters,” Ritchey said. “Before that, students kind of just showed up on a regional campus.” 

Other changes, though slow, may be on the way. The retention rate for all freshmen is going up, Ritchey says, rising from 50 percent to 56 percent between the most recent school years, though he couldn’t verify that black freshmen are included in this uptick. 

Some students of color have felt more at home at Ashtabula. Valerie Gonzalez, a 2018 Ashtabula graduate, wanted to attend Ohio University but couldn’t afford it. At Ashtabula, she picked up a work-study job in the admissions office and fell in love with the university, so much so that she wanted to continue working there after graduation. 

And Ashtabula wanted her to stay, too. Gonzalez, whose parents are Mexican immigrants, speaks Spanish. As an admissions counselor, she supports Spanish speaking students. And she helped launch the school’s first Hispanic Heritage Month celebrations this school year.

“We want this to be a campus where people feel safe,” said Gonzalez, “We want people to come here and know that they’re accepted no matter what.” 

School administrators say they’re following their students’ lead on which cultural activities to introduce. They said there’s been little excitement for a club or student group for black students, but that could be a reflection of the university’s low black student population rather than a real lack of interest.

Turner considered starting a group for black students like herself early in the school year, but once classes started and she saw how few other black students there were, she paused. She was also too busy. She works 28 to 35 hours a week at a gas station — ringing up items, making food and meeting other customer needs — on top of taking a full course load.

“Of course you have those moments where you get very overwhelmed, and you’re like, man, like is this even for me?” Turner said. “But you have to keep going. That’s the only thing you can do is keep going. So that’s what I’m doing now.”

This story about Kent State Ashtabula was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s newsletter.

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By Jessie Schoonover

The Hope Center for Refugees and Immigrants (Building Hope in the City), 15135 Triskett Rd., is coming up with solutions for connecting those who rely on the organization throughout COVID-19. 

The Hope Center provides walk-in assistance as well as classes for immigrants and refugees arriving in Cleveland. 

“Part of what they’re facing is not having that ability to have a face-to-face relationship,” says Building Hope in the City Refugee & Immigrant Ministries Director Eileen Wilson. “I think that’s a piece of it that is lost; that I think is an underlying piece.” 

But the bigger things our immigrant and refugee communities have lost include much of what the entire country has because of COVID-19: employment, job security, and food security.

“They’ve lost continuity,” says Wilson, “where their children were at school and they were able to do things with their life. So, not having the kids at school and not having daycare has been a huge part of this because even if we’re doing virtual classes- even doing virtual classes with your children there- you can’t really stay in the class. And, on the other hand, your children need help with the technology and how to do the schoolwork, and a lot of parents are finding themselves really not equipped, both from the language and technology perspective, to be able to help their children.” 

According to Wilson, they are also seeing people having difficulties with benefits and “just being able to reach out to people to get answers,” she says. 

“And with new families that came right as the COVID-19 was hitting; they are brand new families who are coming to Cleveland; they haven’t been able to get registered at school yet. They don’t have any real resources,” she says. “They are kind of just hanging out there.” 

Internet access has also been a challenge for some. According to Wilson, some Internet providers have extended offerings such as free access. But, she says, it is for a certain amount of time only and many still have trouble navigating how to sign up for this particular benefit. 

“Some things have been given to people to say ‘yes we’ll help you’ but there’s a step in between,” explains Wilson. “There’s a lot of that kind of thing where there’s partial access.” 

According to Wilson, they have been utilizing a mobile, video, and messaging application to interact with individuals who would normally go to the center. 

“We’ve been pretty successful with people doing their English classes. We also have people doing citizenship; we have people working on English and we’re tutoring some kids. So, it’s hit or miss.” 

So, with the lack of face-to-face communication and possibly the barrier of no Internet access, how are people still finding The Hope Center during COVID-19? 

“The good thing is the relationships we’ve built and the community workers we know,” says Wilson, who noted being within “these communities” for 11 years. “We’re using those people to find the vulnerable populations. Who do you know or who do you hear about that actually needs the help,” she says. 

“While we would never want something like this to happen, we’ve actually been able to build some networks that are stronger now,” says Wilson. “We now have access to some of the more vulnerable families to make sure they’re okay because people are realizing ‘okay we have to make sure all of the families are doing okay.’

“So, while people aren’t able to come and walk in and find us, they are absolutely finding us through this network of refugee and immigrant population organizations that work really well together in Cleveland. They are a huge blessing.” 

According to Wilson, The Hope Center is currently re-open for walk-ins from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. Monday through Thursday. 

The Hope Center is also collecting sports equipment or sporting goods to put together kits for 48 families/118 children, which would allow them to play outside. These include wiffle balls, soccer nets, and similar items. 

For more information, contact the West Park Times at email westparktimes@gmail.com.

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Buckeyes Battle Uneven Playing Field; COVID-19 exacerbates trends; Women and Young Workers Hit Particularly Hard

By Kevin Williams 

Graphics by Cid Standifer

This public service journalism article provided by nonprofit nonpartisan Eye on Ohio, the Ohio Center for Investigative Journalism. 

Carmine Ballard graduated from The Ohio State University in 2016, with two Bachelor of Arts degrees— one in Psychology, another in Women’s and Gender Studies. Ballard’s parents helped them through college— paying their tuition. Yet, despite that, Ballard still ended up with about $10,000 worth of federal student loans by graduation, for living expenses during college.

Ballard graduated with a 3.0 average, and made the dean’s list several times. Ballard planned to get into counseling and spaces that served minorities and other at risk populations. 

However, after more than twenty-five applications and interviews that didn’t go anywhere, Carmine, short on cash after three months of applying, ended up taking a food service job to make ends meet. The $114 a month for their student loan repayment was too much to handle with very little income, so Ballard’s parents continued to help out.

“When I tried to apply for jobs, I just wouldn’t hear back. I couldn’t even get a job doing clerical work,” said Ballard. 

Continue reading “Uphill battle Ohio job seekers face”