Looking for a different angle in the ‘Triangle’

How Jatt high school went from violence and fear to success and respect.

By GALIA KASPI SPRUNG
Principal of Jatt high school Saleh Gharrah and his 16-year-old daughter, Aseel (photo credit: GALIA KASPI SPRUNG)
Principal of Jatt high school Saleh Gharrah and his 16-year-old daughter, Aseel
(photo credit: GALIA KASPI SPRUNG)
One year ago, fighting and vandalism at the Jatt high school, located in the notoriously violence- plagued area of the Triangle, was on the rise. The town – one of the Israeli-Arab towns and villages near the Green Line – was suffering from a frightening and deadly increase in violence resulting from fighting between two hamulot, or clans, instigated during special elections held in Jatt in 2011.
This negative atmosphere was overflowing, impacting the welfare of the school. By 2012, the atmosphere at the school was tense, it was becoming impossible to discipline the students. It was time for change.
In less than a year, an unprecedented turnaround took place. In the 2012- 2013 school year, Jatt was recognized for its “Violence Prevention Education” by the Secondary School Teachers’ Association in Israel, and awarded second- place honors in an annual competition highlighting schools that have undergone dramatic change. Prize committee chairwoman Hana Sapir said the committee was impressed “with the way the school answers all students’ needs and provides them with skills for life. They put an emphasis on respecting all people.”
Indeed, today Jatt is described as having an environment which fosters mutual respect among students and faculty, abundant academic opportunities for students and a supportive atmosphere. The campus is virtually vandalism- and violence-free.
How could it all have happened so quickly? One could point to Saleh Gharrah, the principal since 2012, for this sweeping change.
It's no easy task to replace fear, violence, verbal abuse and destruction with security and instilling in students a sense of belonging.
Admittedly, Jatt is not the typical town, Arab or Jewish, and Gharrah, 57, wasn’t just any principal assuming leadership; he had a lot going for him professionally and personally. With 33 years of educational experience and having taught at Jatt since 1980, 60 percent of Gharrah’s staff are his former students. Many more of his former students are the parents of children in the school today. Moving into the role as principal – responsible for over 62 teachers and 600 students, in a town of 12,000 – his reputation was solid.
To become better prepared, Gharrah enrolled in a Beit Berl Teachers’ College course that helps educators become principals. With a colleague, he formulated a detailed program to eradicate violence and create a positive and safe environment in which the students could learn and develop.
“We are taking the responsibility upon ourselves to develop our own plan,” they wrote in their summary. “Our schools tried many Education Ministry programs but unfortunately, none were helpful.”
Convinced that no change would be possible without active community involvement, Gharrah and his colleagues recruited religious leaders, public figures, police and local council representatives – leaders whose influence on the community and students was crucial for the program to succeed.
Trips, innovations and programs, however, need financial backing. Three years ago, Jatt and the nearby town of Baka al-Gharbiya, which had been combined into one city, separated. Jatt’s status as an independent local council ensures a larger budget and unified support for its schools.
“The head of the local council – a former teacher – supports the school financially,” Gharrah said. “But he never interferes with what the principal and the staff do.” In addition, Gharrah stresses, they receive donations from private individuals. Education is Jatt’s No. 1 commodity.
The next step was to focus on the fundamentals of identifying students struggling with academics, but with potential in other areas. The staff met with the parents of each student who had a problem of any kind. For two weeks during the summer vacation and then during the winter break, students came to school, where alumni offered tutoring and encouragement. During the summer, 50 graduates worked day and night to clean and upgrade the facilities. Parents were proactive.
“Parents came in the morning when students were arriving to make sure there were no problems from any criminal elements that used to bother students,” said Saker Abu Asbe, chairman of the parents’ committee.
New programs were offered, geared to challenge the teens regardless of their academic levels. Each student found something he could excel in. Some developed skills and self-confidence through the arts, while others joined academic projects sponsored by Tel Aviv University (Science-Oriented Youth) and the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology (chemistry “olympics”). Students in the mechatronics stream participated in country-wide competitions.
The school's corridors are decorated with the impressive results of these ventures. Colorful paintings greet everyone who enters; detailed sketches of cars and a motorcycle rounding a curve cover another wall. Awards from competitions in robotics, chemistry, mechanics and sport hang in Gharrah’s office.
A recent accomplishment was winning first place in a national robotics competition held in Tel Aviv. The winners attended the international competition held in St. Louis, Missouri, in May, where they were one of the top 400 groups out of 5,000 around the world. They placed 63 out of 100 in their category.
As grades started improving due to the extra tutoring from volunteers, classes became more interesting and success bred more success, which led to more participation, confidence and a feeling of belonging. The theory of Gharrah’s initiative was to let students be influenced by the positivity of the school’s environment – and it worked.
Students saw that achievements were within their reach, with a 55 percent increase in eligibility for a matriculation diploma in Gharrah’s first year as principal.
The dynamics were changing.
I sat in Gharrah’s office at the large, oval meeting table. The Turkish coffee already made and kept warm in a jug was not in my honor, but a permanent fixture. Two English teachers greeted me: Seham, wearing a colorful shal (scarf) around her head and the traditional long black hijab, looked much younger than someone who has been teaching English for 23 years; Ansar, wearing similar dress, is in her fourth year. Both had been Gharrah’s students, and the school’s four other English teachers were taught by both Gharrah and Seham.
Seham and Ansar feel the respect they, as teachers, receive from both the community and the administrators. “Most students come from religious families,” Seham explained. “These families have morals.”
Jatt is a Muslim town, so there are no bars. When not in school, the boys might visit cafes where they play cards and watch soccer. Girls don’t go out; they spend their free time visiting each other in their homes.
As Jatt is a comprehensive school, every high-school- age student in the village is accepted. The school doesn’t have room for non-residents and classes are relatively small – no more than 33 students in a class, compared to the typical student count of 40. Boys and girls learn together and wear a simple uniform in the color students voted for; administrators and parents emphasize that the uniform promotes proper behavior in school and society.
Another innovation: participation. Staff, parents and students developed a constitution that all students and parents had to sign. Rules are rules, they said. Families are called if the student is late three times; a student who doesn’t wear the uniform is sent home. Cheating on a test results in a failing grade.
In a tour of the school with Gharrah, I met some 11th-grade girls who were talking and eating in their classroom. Instead of a fearful or apprehensive silence at the sight of the principal, the girls greeted us with smiles and a slight movement towards Gharrah, not shrinking away. When asked who would like to speak English with me, four girls came forward with no hesitation.
Arwa, whose parents are both teachers, wants to be a doctor. She loves her school. “The teachers take care of us, all of us,” Arwa said. “We have a relationship of respect; they don’t scream at us. We feel that they are like parents.”
The other girls nodded in agreement. They each dressed differently: some wore the hijab and shal; some tight jeans with or without a shal. But all were wearing the purple sweatshirts of their uniform. The boys came back to the classroom, excited to see a guest.
Outside, we ran into Gharrah’s youngest daughter, Aseel. I asked her if it’s hard to study in a school where your father is principal. “I’m proud of him,” the 16 year old said, smiling.
The computer lab boasted 12 new computers; the prayer room – before, a neglected structure and gathering place for negative elements – had been renovated with a library of religious books. Prayer is not compulsory, and there are separate prayer rooms for girls and boys.
We passed the new garden, funded by the parents. There were also new tables and benches in the eating area, improvements which help create pride in the school.
Another innovation Gharrah is proud of is the annual field trip the entire school takes to Yarkon Park for a day of sport competitions and togetherness, ending with a barbecue that everyone helps prepare. The theme repeats itself: working and creating together.
The majority of Jatt’s residents have a history rooted in agriculture, but during the 1970s the older generation realized this way of life was on the decline, and they didn’t want their children to have to work so hard for so little. “Jatt is not on a main road,” Gharrah explained. “So there has never been the potential for commercial businesses.”
The answer was in education. Today, families in academia dominate the population. There are 1,400 teachers in Jatt. Gharrah’s five brothers are in education, as are his eldest son and daughter; his other two sons are studying in Tel Aviv and Beersheba universities.
And no wonder. A big sign in one of the corridors where all of them once walked reads: “Oh God, help me to be more educated.” And they are. Recently, eight students were accepted to medical school in Israel – four from the same class.
“We don’t only practice; we achieve,” said Gharrah, emphasizing the “we.” He never spoke in the first person, believing in delegating authority and making everyone an integral part of life in school. “If you have the program, the goals and the soldiers [teachers], things will work out.”
Gharrah has been recruited by Achmad Kabaha, the Education Ministry’s former general inspector for the Jatt school, to help duplicate the process in other schools. Kabaha, who was active in the project last year, is now the general inspector in Umm el-Fahm and uses Gharrah as an example of success, inviting him to speak with other principals.
“I can see the possibility of success here, too,” he said, “because the secret of success is Gharrah.”