Žižkov school sets high standards

On a recent Thursday morning, the large classrooms at the Secondary School of Management and Law in Žižkov seem awkwardly spacious - and empty. In fact, there are just four teenagers lounging together in one room. The day before, the 50 or so students enrolled here had gone on a trip to Písek, a small town in south Bohemia, and many of them had simply decided not to show up for class the following morning, explains Irena Meisnerová, the head of the school's Prague branch. Later, Meisnerová acknowledges that attendance, in general, is a major challenge for administrators, citing that about half of the students - a majority of whom are Roma - drop out before they graduate, most in the first year of their studies.

Meisnerová says a lot of the students here aren't familiar with the commitment and self-discipline that come with secondary education.

"There's heavy influence from the family and the community," she says. "They really have a different approach to education and don't recognize the difference between basic and middle school, because they've never seen the model with their siblings or parents."

It's this type of perception Meisnerová and her colleagues are so desperately hoping to change, but they realize they have an uphill battle. Originally called the Romany Secondary School, the Secondary School of Management and Law opened its doors in 1998. The school was started by Emil Ščuka, a lawyer and co-founder of the Roma Civic Initiative, with the intent of encouraging more Roma kids to pursue higher education in a discrimination-free environment.

Meisnerová got involved three years ago. She says that it was pure curiosity that initially prompted her to take the job.  

"Basically, I was curious about how the children could be educated further, how they would behave in the other systems," she says.

When hiring teachers, she looks for candidates who have a similar insight into and passion for the Roma culture - and not necessarily teaching experience.

"You have to ask [for] people who have some form of relationship with [the Roma culture], who want to do it and for whom it's a sort of calling," she says.

The idea is to provide a "cushioned environment," tailored to the specific needs of each individual student in an effort to maximize the learning experience. For instance, Jiří Pstružina, who teaches economics and English, negotiates individual deadlines for each of his students. In his classroom, there are no "surprise quizzes" either. Rather, Pstružina only tests a student once he knows the student is prepared and fully understands the material. Whether that takes a week or two is irrelevant, Pstružina says. What's most important is that the teens learn.

Students seem to appreciate the school's environment, noting that it offers a sense of freedom and makes them feel at home.

Eighteen-year-old Matěj Mižigár, who previously trained to be a cook at a different secondary school, switched to this school because of the discrimination he was experiencing there.

It's discrimination that, unfortunately, seems to keep so many young Roma away from mainstream campuses, observes Michal Miko, organizational manager and pedagogical assistant at the Secondary School of Management and Law.

Miko, 23, was also convinced as a youth that he'd become a cook until a campaigner came by his house and informed him about a prestigious Roma-friendly school. Though it was tough to leave his family at 15, Mikov moved to Kolín where the school had its headquarters. After graduating in 2003, he went on to study social work at Charles University and ended up working for various NGOs before landing at the Žižkov school.  

Miko spearheaded a recruitment campaign last summer, walking around Roma-populated neighborhoods in search of potential students but found the effort daunting and doesn't know if he will continue this summer.  

"I just don't have the talent of persuasion, and it doesn't feel right to be persuading those who are ignorant," he says. Miko recalls one particular afternoon when he approached a 19-year-old who was hanging out on a street corner. He asked the teen if he was interested in signing up for classes, and the boy asked Miko why he should bother going to school when he can take on a manual job instead. Such interactions are frustrating, yet not uncommon, Miko says.  

"It depends on the social conditions [the children] are coming from," he explains. "If they're coming from socially excluded locations, and the parents don't have jobs themselves, they go to work to be able to contribute to the family. In the Roma tradition, they have a responsibility to contribute to the family."

Miko acknowledges there is a general level of apathy toward education in the Roma community and notes that the change must begin there before there can ever be a change in the classroom.

Another challenge is funding. Although the school has accepted a number of students from truly poor social conditions in the past, a lot of them couldn't keep up financially and eventually dropped out, according to Miko. Regardless of the stipend every student receives to pay the 12,000 Kč annual fee, attending school requires daily transport and food expenses that some cannot afford, Miko explains.

Despite this, the Žižkov campus has already received 22 applications for the coming school year, Meisnerová reports. The school also oversees 35 long-distance learners, who do the majority of their learning and school work via the Internet and come in every three weeks for consultations. All these students are 30 or older.

"They know what they want, have it figured out and really make the effort," Meisnerová says of the distance learners. "Though I have to say that I'm also grateful for the first-year [students who make the effort to come in to school], because it's better than if they lazed about on the streets."  

Martina Čermáková can be reached at
specialsection@praguepost.com