But look more closely and you'll see that unlike the rest of the building where there's a rainbow of ethnicities, in here the students are all Native. And there's something else different about this classroom that's not easy to see: Unlike other teachers who work for the Anchorage School District, this teacher is privately employed.
This instructor and the ones in the adjacent rooms are from Cook Inlet Tribal Council Inc. and the students they teach at Bartlett are some of Anchorage's most at-risk of failing. The tribal nonprofit has taken on a unique role by persuading the school district to let it offer Native-only classes to tackle the problem of too many Native students falling behind or dropping out.
It is one of several efforts across the city by the district, nonprofits and tribal groups to raise the lagging test scores and high dropout rates of the district's 4,200 Native students. Last year, 64 percent of Native students were at grade level for reading and writing, compared with the district average of 81 percent of all students. In math, 58 percent were at grade level, while the district's average was 73 percent.
By the end of four years of high school, only a third of Natives graduate.
Those who work with the students say there's no clear answer why the statistics are so grim. Some of the reasons often cited are poverty, cultural differences, and parents who don't get involved because they are intimidated by the education system.
The Cook Inlet program, called Partners for Success, is at several middle and high schools. And it isn't alone in seeing the value of separating Native kids from other students. The district-run Elitnaurvik program at East High is doing the same.
The idea behind the separation is to create classrooms where lifestyle differences don't block Native kids' paths to success.
Anchorage school administrators acknowledged this cultural divide in a recent application for a grant to help Native boys. "Traditional values of modesty, cooperation, and sharing sometimes impede success in school," wrote administrators. "Calling attention to self and even eye contact with elders are bad manners. The rapid response expected in modern classrooms is unnatural."
Program administrators say they are creating environments where these traits are helpful, not harmful.
QUIET STUDENTS, LOUD STUDENTS
Bartlett has 320 Natives among its 1,700 students and most take at least one class in the Cook Inlet program, which is primarily funded by federal education grants.
Kids sign up for several reasons, administrators say. More of the staff are Native, which brings a level of comfort and familiarity in dealing with the adults. Classes are half the size of other classes in the high school, giving students more face-time with teachers. And the program emphasizes Native pride, boosting kids' self-esteem and making them feel more connected to the curriculum.
This means that in English class, poet and novelist Sherman Alexie is read.
In science class, tools and techniques of survival used by the first Alaskans are studied. And after school, traditional Native sports are practiced.
In one biology class, a moose heart was studied, then the teacher cooked it up for everyone to eat.
Another reason the kids sign up: Cook Inlet teachers have the reputation of being some of the best in the city.
On a recent visit to Mary Moran's algebra class, it seemed that reputation was earned on the basis of her ability to entertain her students while, perhaps slyly, teaching them something about math.
Bartlett principal Dan Gallego later explained that Moran uses humor to connect with the kids. She makes corny math jokes and exhibits an obsession with math that the students enjoy rolling their eyes at. One sign of the obsession: A 5-foot-long replica of a pencil with the engraving "Fractions are our friends" that hangs over her desk.
Moran began the class with an exercise on permutations and combinations. The students, mostly 10th and 11th graders, put their pencils to paper while she ambled around the class checking their progress.
Her classroom is adorned with evidence of another obsession: Elvis Presley. Photos of the King blanket the walls, and multiple life-size cutouts pose in the corners.
From the quiet boy slumped in his chair to the girl who sits straight up and asks lots of questions, each gets Moran's attention. She calls them "honey" and "babe" and often corrects their work by going to the dry-erase board to demonstrate. Then she says, "Are you with me?" and makes sure they are. She tells them to help each other.
What she's doing, program administrators say, is giving attention to each student regardless of how vocal or gregarious they are, creating an environment where quieter students can be right just as much as the louder students, and encouraging shared learning. It's a style of teaching that works well with these kids, administrators say.
"We see big growth, both socially and with their confidence," Moran later said. Kids come out of their shells, she said.
Tawni Whitinger, an 18-year-old senior, said she started taking Cook Inlet classes after she struggled her freshman year. "It doesn't really make a difference if you're Native or not. You come in here and you get more help. Instead of one teacher for 30 kids, you have half that."
LOST AND FOUND
Program administrators say they are seeing results since Partners for Success started in the city schools in the early 2000s. The Cook Inlet students attend class more, drop out less, and have a better chance of graduating on time.
While about 11 percent of Anchorage Native students not participating in the program drop out each year, only 2 percent who take the Cook Inlet classes do. And while only a third of Native students are earning a high school diploma in four years, about 7 in 10 Natives who are in the program are.
Sheila Randazzo, a Cook Inlet family advocate at Bartlett, said some of the success may be because the program shrinks the size of the East Anchorage school, where a student can walk the crowded halls and see a sea of unknown faces day after day.
She believes that Natives, regardless of how long they've been in the city, do better in smaller schools that create an intimacy between students and teachers. Otherwise, she said, "Alaska Native people and students get lost."
The program is especially good for students who have recently moved into the city from the Bush, said principal Gallego. "When you come in from a village which has 90 kids in the school, then go to a school with 1,700 students, that is a huge deal," he said. "Some kids can cope with that. Some cannot."
A PEP TALK
On another recent school day, as Moran presided over a catch-up day in her algebra class, Cook Inlet counselor Gail Weinstein walked in with five minutes left before the bell.
Weinstein, who has an assertive but motherly tone, told the few seniors in the class that they needed to see her to review their after-graduation plans. To the others, she said, "It's time to really start to think about what you might want to do later on."
The students shuffled their papers, stretched their arms, and yawned, but listened. She had their attention.
In rapid-fire succession, she told them about summer opportunities with Native corporations and the Alaska Native Heritage Center. She reminded them of an upcoming Native arts summit.
Then she slowed down.
She talked about college. "Do not let the financial issues get in the way," she said, looking around the room. She reminded them of Native corporation scholarships and national funding sources for Natives.
Seconds before the bell rang, she made successive eye contact with as many kids as she could, and said: "You kids are our leaders."
Find Megan Holland online at adn.com/contact/mholland or call 257-4343.
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