Zhao again recounted how much trouble he was having controlling the class. Though he had seen progress in the quiz, some students didn't write anything. "I don't know how to deal" with it, he said.
"The way to get them cooperating is to hold them accountable," Markenson said. "This is a work environment. Break up the friendships and racial groups."
Markenson reminded Zhao that many of Dorsey's students live in poverty and lack family support. "Some of our students are depressed," she said. "That's why our scores are so low."
Zhao had never seriously considered the effect of poverty on his students. In China, 900 million of the 1.3 billion people are still essentially farmers. Being poor was commonplace -- but so was studying hard no matter your lot in life. He remembered a banquet he had attended a few days earlier in Chinatown. Many of the guests immigrated decades earlier and spoke about eking out a living in America. They toasted the news that one of their children had been accepted to Harvard. It made Zhao think that Chinese parents would do anything to ensure their children get the best education.
Zhao thanked Markenson for her suggestions. He promised to think about setting boundaries and developing activities for his students. All good ideas, he thought, but could he put them into practice?
He would come close to answering that question several weeks later. Zhao was losing patience with a student using her cellphone. She had repeatedly ignored his orders to put the device away. Sitting to the side of the room grading papers that day was Noah Lippe-Klein, a popular history teacher whose students would file in once Zhao's class ended.
Zhao asked Lippe-Klein to step into the hallway.
"I don't know what to do about this student," Zhao said. Lippe-Klein told Zhao he needed to confiscate the phone. Zhao was reluctant. He wanted to see Lippe-Klein do it. Moments later, Lippe-Klein took the phone. Within days, Zhao was taking away students' cosmetics and phones. He stared down those who talked over him.
Scolding students didn't give Zhao any satisfaction. But now that he was beginning to control his classroom, he was pleased with how much more time he had to teach the students who had a keen interest in Mandarin.
That faction grew over the months, joining the likes of Monet. Antonio Carrillo, 17, was a quiet student in Zhao's fourth-period class who was growing more interested in Chinese each week. To him, it felt exotic compared to Spanish or French.
