The decade after high school graduation is filled with lots of dreams. Then real life sets in — and sometimes turns those plans upside down. Such is the premise of the new ABC series My Generation , which revisits a group of classmates from Austin 10 years after their high school graduation in 2000. The documentary-style show imagines that a filmmaker who followed them just prior to graduation and recorded their hopes for the future is now back in their lives to see how things worked out. “In some ways, what’s good about revisiting these characters is it’s the first real moment of adulthood,” says My Generation writer/creator Noah Hawley, 42. In the show, these 28-year-olds’ plans for school, marriage, kids or life in general didn’t quite happen the way they had envisioned. And for real-life 28-year-olds, the same is often true. In one Baltimore-area Class of 2000, which was followed for 13 years by USA TODAY, two students got pregnant. One is almost $300,000 in debt from school. One moved back home for almost a year. One is a caregiver for an ill parent. These Millennials (considered the oldest year of the generation sometimes called Generation Y ) do exhibit a significant characteristic of their generation: an optimism for the future and ambition to make it happen, suggests historian and demographer Neil Howe, whose books on this age group include the most recent Millennials in the Workplace, published this year. “Despite what the recession has done to them — and this is striking — they still have not given up. They have ambitious lifetime goals,” he says. “This generation remains strikingly optimistic long-term, and they believe in staying on a path with long-term goals, despite very high unemployment and a tough economy.” In 1987, USA TODAY began following 17 students in a kindergarten class at Swansfield Elementary School in Columbia, Md., who would be the Class of 2000 when they graduated from high school. Of the original 17, just eight were still in the area when we wrote about them in 2000. Now, we check back in with those we were able to contact to see what their lives are like at age 28: Ashkan Dorri He moved to California in third grade and lived in L.A. until last year. After a year in AmeriCorps and an MBA, he got a government job in information technology but was laid off last year. Then his dad had a stroke, and he moved to Reston, Va., to help out. “Sometimes things in life throw you on a different tangent. Those give you more character, and you learn from it. I’m optimistic something will happen.” Chanelle Matthews She still wants to teach, but a degenerative eye disorder forced her to quit community college for a corneal transplant. She has a 2-year-old son and has worked full time for the past decade as a telecom coordinator in Columbia, Md. She also takes a full-time load of classes online. “I have the same expectations I had,” she says. “I thought I’d go on to a four-year university. I had minor setbacks, but I’m still trying.” Chad Jensen After graduating from Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, he planned to be a pediatrician, then a pilot, but 9/11 changed that. He’ll finish dental school in May 2012. “I’ll be over $300,000 in debt,” he says. He got married in 2006 and lives in Pittsburgh with his wife and 4-month-old son. “I wish I was a little bit further along in my schooling, but life is a journey.” Marissa Schwartz She studied psychology at High Point (N.C.) University but got pregnant sophomore year and put school on hold. She lives in Plantation, Fla., near the father of her two daughters, 8 and 6. She’ll finish studies in August to be a dental hygienist and is working on a bachelor’s. “I thought life was going to be different, but I’m more mature because I had to grow up.” Dave Earley A psychology grad from Salisbury University, he moved back with his parents from November 2004 to October 2005. He lives in Essex, Md., and started his current job in clinical research in 2005. He’s getting married Saturday. “In a lot of ways, I am definitely where I thought I would be at 28,” he says. Matt McCathorine A graduate of the University of Maryland in College Park, he is now an engineer, as planned. Five years ago, he bought a house in Owings Mills, Md. “I’m kind of in a position where I feel like I have all these grown-up responsibilities at work and I own a home, and still I’m a single guy in between the being-married-with-kids life and the college life,” he says. “When you’re young, you think 28 is old. But once you get to 28, you realize you’re not old. You’re young,” he says. Where are you? Class of 2000 members Lorrie Crizer and Paul Sutusky, left center in 2000 photo, could not be reached for an update. READERS: Do you know anyone who graduated high school in 2000 or thereabouts? What do you think distinguishes them as a generation? Are you among them? Share your experiences and views in the comments below:

Drury University junior Garret Shelenhamer ditched his car and gets to his classes and volunteer commitments using a shiny, new bike provided by the school. Shelenhamer is one of a number of students across the USA taking advantage of free or low-cost bike-sharing programs, which have become increasingly popular. Drury students agreed to pay a $20-a-year sustainability fee, which funds the bike program. The Springfield, Mo., school purchased 40 new bikes for use by students in time for the fall semester. “It’s helped me so much. It’s been fun,” Shelenhamer said. BIKE POWER: Gyms retrofit bikes to produce electricity DENVER: Bike-share program takes off Nearly 90 American universities, from New York University to the University of Alaska-Anchorage , offer some form of campus bike program, according to the Association for the Advancement of Sustainability in Higher Education. Programs have launched or will launch this year at a wide range of universities, including Southern Illinois University-Edwardsville; John Carroll University in University Heights, Ohio; the University of Cincinnati ; Coastal Carolina University in Conway, S.C.; Samford University in Birmingham, Ala .; Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken , N.J.; and North Carolina State University in Raleigh, N.C . “The demand is coming from students,” says Jeremy Friedman, manager of sustainability initiatives at New York University. This summer, NYU kicked off a pilot bike share program with a fleet of 30 bikes available for free checkout from the front desk of many residence halls. Fueling the demand are the public embrace of biking culture, new miles of bike lanes and the economic recession that has many tightening their spending, Friedman says. “In the future, we may find ourselves in the role of trying to encourage more biking, but for now, we are behind the demand,” he says. “We’re just trying to keep up.” Wendy Anderson, director of campus sustainability at Drury, says the bike program appeals to students, who are active and likely to grumble about costs associated with a car. “I think universities are trying to keep up with the increasing competitive nature of higher education,” Anderson says. “I’m not saying this is a recruiting tool, but it offers a richer experience in student life.” At College of St. Benedict in St. Joseph, Minn., students came up with the idea for a bike program and made it a reality in April, college spokeswoman Diane Hageman says. The program offers 30 bikes for free, daily checkout until the first snowfall, Hageman says. Paul Rowland, executive director of the Association for the Advancement of Sustainability in Higher Education, says bike programs have found fertile soil on college campuses. “One thing about the campus is it has a fairly high density of individuals, students as well as staff. It is relatively defined, and there are a lot of movements every hour or every half an hour,” he says. Bikes help alleviate traffic congestion, improve campus safety and reduce greenhouse gas emission, Rowland says. In 2008, faced with a parking crisis, the University of New England in Biddeford, Maine, raised parking permit fees and began to give away free bikes to freshman students who promised not to bring cars to campus, university spokeswoman Kathleen Taggersell says. Since then, the university has given out 530 bikes and, as a direct result of the program, turned a 95-space parking lot into a basketball court with a river-view tent for university events, Taggersell says. University bike programs are usually funded by an internal grant or a student fee, Rowland says. Bikes are checked out differently. Some programs require membership, some are free, and some charge a rental fee. Though many schools rely on staff to check out bikes, some have gone high-tech. This fall, Washington State University in Pullman installed a $140,000 automated system for its bike program, says Jamie Bentley, the environmental well-being coordinator at WSU. Students swipe their identification cards to unlock a bike from one of the four docking stations on campus, Bentley says. The convenience has drastically boosted the use of the bike program: 454 people checked out a bike in the first two weeks this fall, compared with 583 users last year, Bentley says. Tang reports for the Springfield (Mo.) News-Leader .

For the typical student attending a four-year public university, the financial investment in college begins to pay off at about age 33, a report says Tuesday. Compared with a high school graduate, the typical four-year college graduate who enrolled in a public university at age 18 has earned enough by then to compensate for being out of the labor force for four years and for borrowing enough to pay tuition and fees without grant aid. Unemployment rates have increased faster among people with a high school diploma but no college degree, the report says, and college grads are more likely to exercise, volunteer, vote and read to their kids, and are less likely to be obese or smoke. “Questions have intensified about whether going to college is worthwhile,” says Education Pays , released by College Board Advocacy & Policy Center. “For the typical student, the investment pays off very well over the course of a lifetime — even considering the expense.” This is the third such report since 2004; the 2008 report was criticized by Charles Miller, former chair of a higher-education commission under President Bush , as being a “cheerleader” instead of giving “a clear and accurate picture of the dangerous financial deterioration of our higher-education system.” This year’s report says the solution is not to advise students to skip college but to provide better information and advice — and more generous financial support. “If it wasn’t clear before, it should be abundantly clear now that a college graduate is far more competitive in today’s workplace,” College Board president Gaston Caperton says. Among findings: •Median full-time earnings with a bachelor’s degree in 2008 were $55,700, $21,900 more than high school graduates. •The unemployment rate for college graduates rose from 2.6% to 4.6% between 2008 and 2009, while it rose for high school graduates from 5.7% to 9.7%. •In 2008, 8% of high school graduates 25 and older lived in households getting food stamps, vs. just over 1% of those with a bachelor’s degree. •14% of male high school graduates earned as much as or more than $65,800, the median earnings of male four-year college graduates in 2008, and about 20% of male four-year college graduates earned less than $39,000, the median earnings of high school graduates. Estimated cumulative earnings: Age High School Graduate Associate Degree Bachelor’s Degree 18 $22,724 $0 $0 19 $44,787 $0 $0 20 $66,207 $23,683 $0 21 $87,003 $46,677 $0 22 $107,194 $69,001 $25,718 23 $126,796 $90,675 $50,687 24 $145,827 $111,717 $74,929 25 $170,661 $141,208 $109,573 26 $194,772 $169,839 $143,208 27 $218,181 $197,636 $175,863 28 $240,908 $224,624 $207,568 29 $262,973 $250,826 $238,348 30 $284,395 $276,751 $268,232 31 $305,193 $301,921 $297,246 32 $325,386 $326,358 $328,274 33 $344,990 $350,083 $358,398 34 $364,024 $373,117 $387,644 35 $385,122 $398,802 $424,613 36 $405,607 $423,738 $460,504 37 $425,494 $447,949 $495,350 38 $444,803 $471,454 $529,182 39 $463,548 $494,274 $562,027 40 $481,748 $516,430 $593,917 41 $499,418 $537,941 $624,877 42 $516,574 $558,825 $654,936 43 $533,229 $579,101 $684,119 44 $549,399 $598,786 $712,452 45 $565,622 $619,403 $740,133 46 $581,372 $639,420 $767,008 47 $596,663 $658,854 $793,100 48 $611,509 $677,722 $818,433 49 $625,923 $696,040 $843,027 50 $639,917 $713,824 $866,905 51 $653,503 $731,091 $890,088 52 $666,693 $747,855 $912,595 53 $679,499 $764,130 $934,447 54 $691,933 $779,932 $955,662 55 $703,901 $795,167 $975,834 56 $715,521 $809,959 $995,419 57 $726,802 $824,320 $1,014,434 58 $737,755 $838,262 $1,032,894 59 $748,388 $851,799 $1,050,817 60 $758,712 $864,941 $1,068,218 61 $768,735 $877,700 $1,085,112 62 $778,467 $890,088 $1,101,514 63 $787,915 $902,115 $1,117,438 64 $797,087 $913,791 $1,132,898

HARRISBURG, Pa. (AP) — A central Pennsylvania technological college with fewer students than many Facebook users have friends is blacking out social media for a week. The bold experiment at Harrisburg University of Science and Technology — which has drawn praise, criticism and even a jab on late-night TV — means students and staff can’t access Facebook, Twitter or a host of other ubiquitous social networks while on campus. Provost Eric Darr said the exercise that began Monday is not a punishment for the school’s 800 students, nor a precursor to a ban, but a way for people to think critically about the prevalence of social media. The blackout comes on the heels of a report that Web users in the U.S. spend more time socializing on Facebook than searching with Google , according to data released last week from researchers at comScore Inc. Still, Darr said he can’t believe the controversy generated in the Twitterverse, blogosphere and academia, with some accusing the school of inflicting “a terrible thing and an infringement upon people’s rights.” “By and large, the students are supportive of the whole exercise and don’t get so worked up over it,” Darr said. On campus, attempts to log in to MySpace or LinkedIn return the message: “This domain is blocked.” E-mail, texting and other Web surfing is still allowed, but not instant-messaging. Student Ashley Harris, 22, said the blackout has freed her to concentrate on her classwork instead of toggling on her laptop between social networks and the lesson at hand. “I feel obligated to check my Facebook. I feel obligated to check my Twitter. Now I don’t,” Harris said. “I can just solely focus.” Part of Harris’ willingness to disconnect stemmed from her feeling that the experiment demonstrates the young university’s focus on innovation. The private nonprofit institution was founded in 2003 and operates out of a 16-story building in downtown Harrisburg, the state capital about 95 miles northwest of Philadelphia. Adam Ostrow, editor-in-chief of the social media news site Mashable.com, said he’d be interested to see if the university collects any hard metrics from the ban, such as better class attendance or more assignments turned in on time. But he doesn’t think a blackout is feasible over the long-term. Though Facebook has been blocked in some workplaces as a time-waster, it is a crucial tool for college students to coordinate social schedules, organize events, plan study sessions and collaborate on assignments. “You really can’t disconnect people from it in the long run without creating some real inefficiencies and backlash,” said Ostrow. Ironically, the university hosted a social media summit on Wednesday — mid-blackout. That caused some angst for guest speaker Sherrie Madia, communications director for the University of Pennsylvania ‘s Wharton School , who, like many, is used to tweeting during conferences. She said the buzz around the ban has started a much-needed conversation about effective use of social media and how to balance online life with the world offline. “Do we really want to be enslaved to Facebook or Twitter?” Madia said. “Once you create anything in social media, you have to feed the beast. When you stop adding content, you disappear.” The university has created course work around the ban, and some students will write essays about their experience. Comedian Jimmy Fallon joked in Monday’s late-night monologue that he knows the title of those essays: “We All Have Smart Phones, Dumbass.” Darr acknowledged students can use smart phones to bypass the university’s computer network or go to a nearby hotel for unblocked WiFi. And at a tech-centric school, he said, some students will try to get around the firewall just to prove they can. Yet if people feel that compelled to check status updates or Twitter replies, that’s important to know. “I want an honest reaction to the experiment,” Darr said. The provost also confessed to some trepidation: College officials can’t use social networks this week either for student recruiting, business networking or curriculum planning. “Next week, I will be as thankful as the next person we’re back on social media,” Darr said. So will junior Giovanni Acosta, 21, who said he’s been texting up a storm trying to coordinate social events without Facebook and Twitter. But student Dan Warseck, 36, said it doesn’t bother him — he prefers face-to-face communication and doesn’t even have texting on his phone. “I’m not one of these people who puts their life online,” Warseck said. “My friends have my phone number if they really need to get in touch with me.” Harris thought for sure she’d cheat on the blackout, but to her surprise she’s embraced it — although she does draw a line in the sand. “I don’t know if I could turn off my phone,” Harris said. “I don’t know if I could be that liberated.” Copyright 2010 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

WASHINGTON — Students enrolled this semester in “Education in Black America” at Howard University got their reward Thursday morning for slogging to campus instead of sleeping in: About 10 minutes into class, singer-songwriter John Legend strode in. No introduction needed. “Surprise, surprise,” Legend said, as cell phones came out and cameras flashed. “I’m glad you didn’t skip class today.” Legend, 31, was guest professor as part of an mtvU program called Stand In , in which big names such as Bill Gates and Madonna show up unannounced and teach a class on a subject they care about. For Legend, a Grammy Award winner who grew up in poverty, that subject is education reform — a key theme of the just-released Waiting for Superman documentary, for which he wrote a song. So it made sense to arrange with professor Greg Carr to appear in Carr’s class, which was discussing the education of ex-slaves when the knock at the door came. Equal access to quality education is “the civil rights issue of our time,” Legend told students. Noting that next week marks the 53rd anniversary of the day nine black students were escorted by federal troops into the all-white Little Rock Central High School , he said “minorities today are still fighting for access to quality schools.” He warned against the “soft bigotry of low expectations,” decried high dropout rates at schools in black and Latino neighborhoods, and, responding to one question, suggested that merit-based admission programs can perpetuate inequities. “(You can’t) break that cycle of poverty if you only educate the ones who have been best-educated already,” he said. “I think you can have a better education no matter who you are.” Carr called the session “a candid exchange between a group of black students and a performer with a global profile who also shares their experience.” Students said Legend’s appearance was a great way to start the day. “What he said is extremely key,” sophomore marketing major Stephen Baiyewu, 19, said after class. “John Legend is one of the most respected African-American R&B artists.” And here are two of many tweets that circulated throughout the morning: • @ATLsBishopCrazy day, MTVU in the classroom, John Legend teaching…cant ask for much more. •@johnlegend: Had a great time @ Howard. Thanks to Prof Carr and his students. Great discussion. And yes they were surprised.

PUEBLO, Colo. — At 8:28 a.m., the cafeteria ladies of Centennial High School take up positions in the second-floor hallway, just outside closed classroom doors. Each woman is pushing a cart loaded with milk, juice, whole-wheat doughnuts and individual packages of Cocoa Puffs and Lucky Charms cereal. When science teacher Sue Aronofsky opens the door of her classroom, kids stream into the hallway. “You go around, you get your stuff, and you tell the lady thank you,” she says. Students eat at their desks as announcements drone from the public-address system. After a brief pause to pledge allegiance to the U.S. flag and toss empty milk cartons, Aronofsky’s freshmen turn to examining pill bugs under magnifying glasses. Time: 8:45 a.m. The same scene occurs all over the 1,034-student school. Last year, when Centennial served free breakfast in the cafeteria each morning before the start of classes, fewer than 100 students showed up to eat daily. On this morning four days into the new year, with breakfast delivered to classrooms, 864 students have been fed. That many children eating school breakfast is rare. Although the number of hungry children in the U.S. is rising, fewer than half of the kids who could be eating a free or low-cost breakfast at school are getting one. TRAFFIC: Cities opt for creative commuter options COACHING: Qualified students aim higher ‘DROPOUT FACTORIES’: Program fights truancy at young age BACKYARD COTTAGES: Extra income in Seattle In Pueblo, school officials take a counterintuitive approach: They offer free breakfast to all children regardless of income, so no one is embarrassed to be eating it. In most schools here, breakfast is served right in the classrooms. As a result, 76% of Pueblo’s needy kids eat school breakfast. That’s more than any state and almost every big city, according to the Food Research and Action Center (FRAC), which tracks participation in school meal programs. Now, states such as Colorado and Florida, anti-hunger groups and congressional lawmakers from both parties are pushing schools to follow programs such as Centennial’s — an effort not only to improve students’ performance in school but to combat rising hunger in tough economic times. The number of U.S. households that can’t consistently put food on the table rose to 17 million, or 14.6%, in 2008, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture , the highest level in a decade. The use of food stamps is at an all-time high, and so is the percentage of children receiving free or reduced-price school meals, which rose from 59.3% in 2007 to 62.5% in 2009. DELINQUENTS: For D.C., hope in treating young offenders SOLAR CITY: Toledo reinvents itself as a solar-power innovator STAYING FREE: Unlikely mentors give felons hope The low number of needy kids eating breakfast at school “is a tremendous concern,” says Gary Davis, founder of the Got Breakfast? Foundation, which gives schools grants to increase breakfast participation. “It’s a message that really has to be heard: that there’s just a simple way that we can improve our society.” The cost of school breakfast for needy kids, such as the cost of their lunches, is eligible for federal reimbursement. Most U.S. schools — 86% — offer it. But of the nearly 19 million children who eat a free or reduced-price lunch at school, only 8.8 million also come for breakfast, according to FRAC. Efforts to change this are underway: •In Colorado, where only 39% of needy kids eat a school breakfast, Democratic Gov. Bob Ritter launched an effort in July to get school districts to increase participation in breakfast with the help of Share Our Strength, a national advocacy group that fights childhood hunger. •In Florida, a new law this year requires free breakfast in all schools where 80% of the students are eligible for free or reduced-price meals. •In Congress, renewal of the Child Nutrition Act would allow start-up grants for universal free breakfast programs. The bill also would make it easier for high-need schools to serve universal meals by allowing more ways for schools to make kids eligible for free and low-cost meals. The renewal, postponed from 2009, passed the Senate in August with $4.5 billion in increased funding. A version with $8 billion in additional funding awaits action in the House. The current law expires Sept. 30. “There are just a lot of kids whose families are not going to be able to supply all their meals for them,” says Bill Shore, co-founder of Share Our Strength. “The impact (on hunger) of adding 50,000 kids to the school breakfast program dwarfs anything else we could do.” ‘It’s the right thing to do’ In Pueblo — a city of 103,000 that is 104 miles south of Denver — 72% of schoolchildren qualify for free and reduced-price meals. Under U.S. Department of Agriculture guidelines, a family of four with an annual income of less than $40,793 can receive school meals at a reduced price of no more than 30 cents. A family of four with income less than $28,665 is eligible for free school meals. But in Pueblo, breakfast is served free to everyone in all 38 schools. In 24 schools, children are served breakfast in the classroom or, if the food carts can’t be hauled upstairs, kids grab breakfast at the front door on their way to class. Jill Kidd, Pueblo’s nutrition services director, started serving breakfast in class in 1998 in four of the district’s poorest schools, and she has been expanding the classroom breakfast program ever since. “It’s simple,” she says. “And it’s the right thing to do for kids.” Pueblo serves a burrito, French toast or other hot breakfast four times a week, and offers cereal every day, including an unsweetened variety such as Cheerios. (Centennial students got only sweet cereals the first week this school year because adding the school to the in-class breakfast program initially stretched district supplies, Kidd says.) Cheyenne Roque, 15, a freshman at Centennial, grabbed the high-fiber doughnut from the breakfast cart. Her mother works at a craft supply store and her dad at a discount store. The family includes three kids, her grandmother and uncle. Food stamps help the family make it through the month, but school breakfast and lunch make the groceries at home go further. “That’s why we have more food at home, because we eat breakfast and lunch at school,” she says. Removing the stigma Getting more kids to eat breakfast at school is key to achieving President Obama’s campaign pledge to end childhood hunger by 2015, according to groups such as Share Our Strength and Feeding America, a food bank network. The best way to do so, they say, is with a program like Centennial’s that feeds rich and poor kids alike. In a 2001 U.S. Department of Agriculture pilot program in 79 schools, offering free breakfast to all kids in the cafeteria increased the number of students who ate breakfast in school from 19% to 28%. At schools that served free breakfast in the classroom, participation rose to 65%. Feeding free breakfast to students who can afford to pay avoids the stigma for students who can’t but don’t want everyone to know. Serving breakfast in class means kids don’t have to get there early to be fed, Kidd and other school nutrition directors say. Bus schedules, parents’ work schedules, and, for high school students, the desire to sleep as late as possible make getting to school early for breakfast difficult. Andrea Ayala, 28, an unemployed single mom of four, grew up in Pueblo eating breakfast at school when it was for poor kids only. She and her four siblings “always had to go to the cafeteria and be there before school. … My mom made us,” Ayala says. Now her four kids eat breakfast at school along with everyone else, she says: “They see everybody else getting what they’re getting.” Feeding more children breakfast is an easy pitch to budget-squeezed school districts because if enough of their kids are eligible for low- or no-cost meals, federal reimbursement can cover the cost of the entire program. The more breakfasts they serve, the more federal reimbursement they get and the greater economy of scale they enjoy. The USDA spent $12.7 billion on school breakfast and lunch last year. Reimbursement to schools for breakfast range from 26 cents for a child who pays full price to $1.74 for a free breakfast in a high-poverty school. More than half of all students in Pueblo eat breakfast at school. The program pays for itself and doesn’t require any money from the district, Kidd says. “We aren’t asking taxpayers to feed every kid a free breakfast at school,” says Courtney Smith, director of Share Our Strength’s No Kid Hungry program. “We are saying that in very high-need areas, a way to effectively provide breakfast at school is through a universal breakfast program.” Part of an education In Pueblo, Kidd has converted schools to free in-class breakfast one principal at a time. Administrative reluctance is typically the biggest obstacle to classroom breakfast, its proponents say. Since the federal No Child Left Behind law made performance on state tests critical to schools, the pressure to maximize class time is intense. “As a principal, you have to guard instruction time,” says Tharyn Mulberry, Centennial’s principal. When he first mentioned classroom breakfast, his faculty “did not like it,” he says. “They did not want the disruption of it.” First, Kidd arranged to serve breakfast in class last year on the days when Centennial students took the all-important state assessment tests. Then she told Mulberry, “If it’s good for test days, it’s good for every day.” Studies indicate that children learn better when they aren’t hungry. Kids who eat breakfast right before taking tests score higher than kids who ate hours before. Results of pilot programs in the city of Milwaukee, statewide in Maryland and elsewhere show that serving breakfast in class results in less tardiness, less disruptive behavior and fewer visits to the nurse. “We’re a little obsessive about it at this point,” Kidd says. She has pitched one principal on the idea of in-class breakfast so many times — without success — “if I mention it again, he’s going to kill me.” At Park View Elementary, on Pueblo’s east side, where all 418 students qualify for free or reduced-price meals, breakfast is served only in the cafeteria, not the classroom. “I don’t feel that that truly is the best use of the instruction part of the day,” Principal Shiela Perez says. “By the time that it’s been delivered, by the time they’ve been given the opportunity to eat and everything’s been cleared up, that can drag out … into 45 minutes of the day.” Instead, children must arrive by 7:40 a.m. to eat, 20 minutes before class begins. A little more than one-third of the students — 37% — eat breakfast at school. “If they walk in at 7:55 they’re not going to get turned away,” Perez says. “We’re just trying to encourage them to get here.” Like it or not, making sure children get fed has become central to schools’ mission. Feeding hungry kids “is a given. We’re in many cases the biggest social support for our children,” says Stephanie Garcia, president of the Pueblo school board. “This is a necessary part of the educational process.” For Kidd, the next step in helping hungry children is to move beyond the school day. Like other schools, Pueblo has a program that sends bags of food home with needy kids on Friday to get them through the weekend. Kidd would like to add an after-school supper program, and start farmers markets at schools located in “food deserts,” neighborhoods without food stores. She is also now in charge of the 10% of Pueblo students who are homeless. It’s a job Kidd feels highlights the difference a school can make in a kid’s life, especially if it comes with decent meals. “We’re the safe time in their day. We’re the good time in their day,” she says. “If we can feed them and love them, maybe we can make the other 16 hours more tolerable.”

BERKELEY, California — Amid the uproar over the proposed mosque near the site of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in New York, a new Islamic college recently opened its doors in California with plans to educate a new generation of Muslim-American leaders. Founded by three prominent Islamic scholars, Zaytuna College in Berkeley is a small school with just five faculty members and 15 students in its inaugural freshman class. The school wants to become the first fully accredited Muslim academic institution in the United States. QURAN: Florida pastor steps back from plans to burn Muslim holy book Zaytuna College is opening at a time when fierce opposition to the proposed Islamic community center and mosque near the former World Trade Center has left many American Muslims feeling under siege. Many mosques are boosting security this week ahead of the Sept. 11 anniversary that some fear could bring trouble to Muslim communities. Zaytuna has generated little controversy in this famously liberal college town, but some conservatives question the founders’ motives. Frank Gaffney , president of the Center for Security Policy , a conservative think tank, accuses the school of seeking to indoctrinate students and spread Islam in America. “This is stealth jihad in the sense that it is about promoting in the United States incubators for sharia,” the religious law of Islam, said Gaffney, who served as deputy assistant secretary of defense in the Reagan administration. Zaytuna’s founders dismiss such criticism, saying it represents the views of a small minority of Americans who don’t understand Islam. “I think Zaytuna College over time can help contribute to a healthier understanding of Islam by removing ignorance,” said co-founder Zaid Shakir , an Air Force veteran and California native. The college is seeking to “prepare morally committed human beings that can go out and make a difference in the world as Muslims.” Zaytuna, which means “olive tree” in Arabic, offers an education that combines training in Arabic language and Islamic scholarship with courses in the humanities and social sciences. There have been other attempts to start Muslim colleges in the U.S., but those schools have closed or remained obscure. Students of all faiths are welcome at Zaytuna, but its first freshman class is made up of an ethnically diverse group of nine women and six men who are all Muslims. Most students wear head scarves or skull caps and participate in afternoon prayer. Zaytuna is housed in rented classrooms at the American Baptist Seminary of the West, just a few blocks from the University of California, Berkeley campus. “Religion is the main part of my life. I have religion and then everything else comes around that. So that was definitely the main reason I wanted to come to Zaytuna,” said Sumaya Mehai, 21, who spent two years at community college in Santa Barbara before enrolling at Zaytuna. The college is working toward earning accreditation from the Western Association of Schools and Colleges, one of six regional accrediting associations in the U.S., a process that is expected to take four to eight years. The founders hope to build an institution that will train scholars, professionals and religious leaders to serve the country’s fast-growing Muslim population, which now numbers in the millions. With few Islamic seminaries or colleges in the U.S., many American mosques have brought in imams from countries including Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, which can lead to a disconnect between religious leaders and their congregations. The three founders of the school are all leading Islamic scholars. Hatem Bazian is a Palestinian-American who teaches Islamic studies at UC Berkeley. Shakir and Hamza Yusuf are American converts who spent years studying Islam overseas before becoming leading Muslim scholars in the U.S. Zaytuna, where tuition is $11,000 a year, offers a bachelor’s degree with two majors: Arabic language and Islamic law and theology. Students take classes in subjects such as Islamic ethics, Islamic finance and Muslims in America, as well as courses one finds at a traditional liberal arts college — sociology, philosophy, linguistics, astronomy. Zaytuna’s opening is “one of the signs that Muslims have come of age in this country” and will be “a unique contribution to higher education,” said Ebrahim Moosa , a professor of Islamic studies at Duke University . But Moosa said the bachelor’s degree curriculum seems more like that of a theological seminary than a liberal arts college because most of the required courses are related to Islam. “From where I’m sitting, it’s heading in the direction of becoming a theological seminary, unless there will be a radical rethinking of the program,” Moosa said. In the years to come, Zaytuna’s founders hope to enroll more students, add more majors, offer graduate programs and have its own campus. The school is raising money from Muslim communities in the U.S. and trying to build an endowment. Freshman Hadeel Al-Hadidi, 24, completed her bachelor’s degree in communications at the University of Michigan-Dearborn before enrolling at Zaytuna. She hopes to pursue a career in film. “Zaytuna College is more of a personal thing,” she said, “to make myself a better person, to better myself in my religion.” Copyright 2010 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Some professors believe Wikipedia has no place in the footnotes of a college paper. But could it have a place on the syllabus? The Wikimedia Foundation , the nonprofit organization that does fundraising and back-end support for the popular open-source encyclopedia, says yes. So do the nine professors at prominent colleges who have agreed to make creating, augmenting, and editing Wikipedia entries part of their students’ coursework. “We’ve known for a long time that students are the fuel of Wikipedia,” said LiAnna Davis, a Wikimedia spokeswoman. “{hellip}We feel there is a place for Wikipedia in the classroom.” ON THE WEB: A stand against Wikipedia MORE FROM INSIDE HIGHER ED: Research methods ‘beyond Google’ “Students have access to so many journals and library materials and other scholarly materials that other people just don’t have access to,” she said. Wikimedia’s new alliances with professors stem from its Public Policy Initiative, an effort to improve Wikipedia’s coverage of topics relating to U.S. public policy. On a grant from the Stanton Foundation, Wikimedia started recruiting public policy professors who were willing to have their students create content for Wikipedia. This fall, the foundation will help nine instructors — four at George Washington University , two at Georgetown University , and one each at Indiana University at Bloomington, Syracuse University , and Harvard University — integrate Wikipedia-related assignments into their syllabuses. (Wikimedia does not pay the professors to do this; the Stanton grant pays for foundation staff and training associated with the project.) “The social media trend is something that students have definitely latched on to, and regardless of what everyone else thinks, they’re going to continue to be involved with it,” says Carol Ann Dwyer, a public affairs instructor at Syracuse , who is among Wikimedia’s academic recruits. “I would prefer, particularly if they’re going to become ‘Wikipedians,’ that they do it properly.” The foundation also recruited student “ambassadors” at those colleges to serve as on-campus resources for professors and students who might be less familiar with the technical aspects of contributing to Wikipedia. It gathered the ambassadors in Washington this summer for three days of training. The foundation also recruited “online ambassadors” — experienced Wikipedia users from around the world — to serve as a second line of support, especially for students who might need help while burning the midnight oil the night before a due date. The particular ways the professors are planning to work Wikipedia into their courses vary. The graduate students in Peter Linquiti’s policy analysis course at George Washington will be asked to pen a detailed critique of an existing entry, assessing its “credibility, intended audience, currency of content, degree of support for the information and analysis, use of policy analysis tools or concepts, extent of balance and/or bias, and any recommended changes to content, style, and tone,” according to a summary provided to Wikimedia. They will then submit appropriate edits to the entry, and then monitor those edits for a week to see what happens to those changes in the fray of editing and counter-editing that is a common byproduct of the site’s wild-west revisions policy. Rochelle Davis, an assistant professor in the school of foreign service at Georgetown, says contributing to Wikipedia dovetails nicely with the sort of literature review and summarizing that she already has students do as part of preparing to write an argumentative paper. Davis says she plans to simply have the students in two of her classes format those summaries for Wikipedia, submit them to the site, then use that as a jumping-off point for writing a proper research paper. In this way, the process mirrors a strategy already employed by many college students, only in reverse: Instead of starting with a Wikipedia page as a nexus to find more authoritative material, the students would do research first, then consolidate their findings into a concise entry on the site. “I’m tired of my grad students saying, ‘All we ever do is critique and discuss and deconstruct,’ ” Davis says. “So I’m going to make them create something that’s not just a thing for me to read; it’s going to go out into the community.” The fact that summarizing for Wikipedia comes with the pressure of knowing others might read and rely on their work might even prompt students to be more meticulous than they might have if the summaries were for Davis’s eyes only, she says. Several other people involved with the project made the same point. The tower and the crowd Academe historically has viewed Wikipedia, which allows any visitor to edit its entries and relies on the vigilance of volunteer fact-checkers, with a great deal of ambivalence. In 2007, the history department at Middlebury College took a stand against citing Wikipedia entries directly in papers, and many others have worried that Wikipedia sows the same moral hazard in students as Google by enabling, by virtue of its breadth and convenience, lazy research habits. A study published earlier this year in the online journal First Monday reported that more than half of college students use Wikipedia at some point in the research process either all or most of the time (though their professors might be relieved to hear that 70% of those students use it at or near the beginning of their research). In recent years, academics seem to have gotten used to Wikipedia being around (and have perhaps recognized its efforts to keep out bad information), and much of the discussion has shifted to how it can be applied constructively. The professors who have partnered with Wikimedia’s Public Policy Initiative are not the first to incorporate Wikipedia into their courses — the foundation counts 59 such instances between 2007 and 2009 — and academics have certainly played a role in helping build and edit the site since it opened in 2001. The initiative does, however, represent the first time the foundation has pushed to seed a community of contributors within higher education. “This is exciting to be sure!” wrote Curtis J. Bonk, a professor of instructional systems technology at Indiana and author of The World Is Open: How Web Technology is Revolutionizing Education , in an e-mail to Inside Higher Ed. “That is a key part the mission of all of us in a higher education setting — to generate as well as disseminate knowledge in different disciplines,” Bonk wrote. “Given that Wikipedia is now central to the knowledge dissemination process as well as the linkages between content and fields, such partnerships are make sense.” But for as much that the academic cloisters and the ?ber-democratic site might have to offer each other, there remains intractable philosophical tension between the two that could foil the collaboration. Linquiti’s exercise of having students track the changes made to their entries by the equally empowered masses hints at the vulnerability of their contributions. The mutability of Wikipedia entries is why Neil Waters, a history professor at Middlebury, still forbids his students from citing them. In its guidelines, Waters points out, Wikipedia instructs visitors to “Be bold in updating articles and do not worry about making mistakes” — hardly a scholarly protocol, he argues. “I want my students to worry about making mistakes, and to learn how to avoid them, and how to take responsibility for what they write,” wrote Waters in an e-mail. Alan Liu, chair of the English department at the University of California at Santa Barbara and author of the popular academic blog Voice of the Shuttle, noted the importance of resolving these process issues if academe wants to make its authoritative voice louder in Wikipedia. “The academic community provides a constrained and relatively standard set of protocols for constructive collaboration and refereeing that could be built on (whereas the larger global community behind Wikipedia was more problematic because there is actually no such thing as a global community with sufficiently shared motives and standards of collaboration),” wrote Liu in an e-mail. Much remains to be hashed out between academics and the general public as far as working out such “standards of collaboration,” he said, to resolve the tension between the academic value of peer review and the social media value of crowd-sourcing. “New policies, institutional arrangements, practices, protocols, and technologies will need to be created on both sides of the divide” — between higher education and the “foundations of networked public knowledge” such as Wikipedia and Google — “to create productive and socially-good ways for experts and the crowd to teach, and learn from, each other,” said Liu.” As a handful of loose alliances between Wikimedia and professors, the project “does not seem complete enough.” Wikimedia says it plans to recruit 15 more professors by the spring, and hopes to expand the collaborations beyond public policy eventually. “We are trying to develop a model, a body of documentation, and some technical tools and Wikipedia community processes that will be useful around the globe and in a variety of topic areas; and we hope to set into motion something that will be self-sustaining by volunteer and academic groups,” Frank Schulenberg, head of public outreach at Wikimedia, wrote in a statement. “While we are working only with U.S.-based public policy programs during the pilot program, we will also be continually seeking opportunities to engage our Wikimedia chapters, professors, students, and Wikipedians in other parts of the world and in other topic areas.”

PHILADELPHIA — Duong Nghe Ly can’t wait to begin his senior year at South Philadelphia High School. A day of violence there last year changed his life, and he wants to learn if his school has been transformed as well. Last Dec. 3, after years of attacks on Asian immigrant students, something finally snapped. Fueled by rumors, a group of students roamed the halls searching for Asian victims until one was attacked in a classroom. Later, about 70 students stormed the cafeteria, where several Asians were beaten. About 35 students pushed past a police officer onto the so-called “Asian floor,” but were turned back. After school, Asians being escorted home were attacked anyway by a mob of youths. Almost all the attackers were black — but few observers believe the violence was due to racial hatred. Instead, they cite isolation of different groups within the school, certain students’ warped “gangster” values, and for some, simmering resentments over perceived benefits for Asian students. About 30 Asians were injured that day; seven went to hospitals. Past attacks had been reported to administrators and police, but students say nothing seemed to change. Ly (pronounced LEE) was in the lunchroom for what he calls “the riot.” Days later, he was followed home from school and punched in the face on his front stoop. He had arrived from Vietnam two years earlier, speaking nearly no English, the son of poor, uneducated parents. He thought America would be like the Hannah Montana TV episodes he had watched in Vietnam. What he found was closer to The Wire . So he kept his head down, sought silent refuge among his countrymen and tried to make his way through the broken system. Dec. 3 was a turning point. He realized the system must change — and that he and his fellow immigrants were the ones to make that happen. Their method? Guided by local activists, and despite reservations from some parents, about 50 Asian students boycotted school for a week. “Before, I was timid. I didn’t really want to get myself into trouble,” says Ly, 18. Then he realized, “If everybody’s silent, nobody speaks up, the problem keeps going on without being resolved. I feel like I or my friends have to speak up and organize to tell people this is not right. “We had to fight for it.” ‘Just suffer it’ Duong Ly’s parents, ethnic Chinese who grew up in Vietnam, worked 27 years to grasp the bottom rung of the ladder to American success. His mother, Phung Mac, attended school through the second grade, when her family ran out of money to pay for more. His father, Tu Ly, made it through the sixth grade. In 1981, they submitted their first paperwork to immigrate to the United States. “You had to have a certain background to go to school, be in the Communist Party,” Tu Ly says in Cantonese as his son translates. “Your grandparents had to be a party member for you to get into good schools. Otherwise it cost a lot of money to get an education.” Ly’s parents lived in Ho Chi Minh City, eking out a living selling “pho” noodle soup, rising at 5 a.m. and working in their shop until 9 or 10 at night. All extra money went toward school for Duong (pronounced YUHNG) and his older brother, and fees for immigration paperwork. At times they could not pay their rent and were forced to move, but they always made sure their boys stayed in school. Ly’s mother developed painful hip problems. Her younger brother, who had already moved to America, sent money to pay for an operation. It was unsuccessful — the doctor said it was “an experiment. If you want a better … operation, you need to pay more money,” she says in Cantonese. In 2008, after spending about $20,000 on immigration fees, the family was approved and came to Philadelphia. “We finally achieved our wish: freedom,” Tu Ly says. “We finally had a chance for a better education.” South Philadelphia High looms over an entire city block in a poor section of South Philadelphia long populated by descendants of voyagers from Italy, other European nations and the black American South. Asians and Latinos are now coming in greater numbers. Today, the school is about 70% black and 18% Asian. During Duong Ly’s first year, there were 45 reports of “dangerous incidents” such as weapons possession or assaults at the school of about 1,000 students, enough to earn a “persistently dangerous” label from the state. There also were 326 reports of lesser crimes such as fighting, threats or robberies. The graduation rate was 48%. Only 16% of students were proficient or better in reading and 8% in math, according to state test results. Within weeks of starting school, Ly was robbed in the bathroom. His older brother was punched in the face. “Our friends told us, ‘Just suffer it,’” Ly says. They didn’t report either incident. ‘Discrimination happens’ Duong Ly speaks dispassionately, expressing no racial animosity, when asked to explain how fellow students could commit such vicious attacks. “Because they live in a violent environment,” he suggests. “Maybe their parents have problems and troubles, so they want to express their anger by violence.” His father also declines to condemn the attackers. “In Vietnam,” he says, “the original Vietnamese people don’t like us because we are a different ethnicity. People from the countryside who move to the city get discrimination from city people. It’s the same here. They don’t have an understanding about who we are. Discrimination happens in every society.” About a dozen black students were suspended or expelled after Dec. 3. Their names have been kept secret, and they have not commented publicly. Some other black students show little sympathy for them. “They’re just hating on other races. They don’t have anything better to do with their lives,” says Tyreke Williams, who graduated last June. Wali Smith makes no excuses for the attacks, but understands where they come from. A community specialist who holds workshops on anger management and conflict resolution in various schools, he witnessed the Dec. 3 violence. The South Philly native says blacks have always felt marginalized in the neighborhood dominated by Italians and Irish. Now, some students feel an almost unconscious resentment when they see their Asian counterparts studying on their special second-floor sanctuary, which was established to provide language programs and provide a more welcoming environment. “Those (black) kids feel the majority of the staff there does not care about their education,” Smith says. “They see these Asian kids come in and be nurtured, and they want that same kind of comfort.” Then there is a small group of troublemakers with a value system that says, “it’s cool to be gangster,” Smith says. “But really you’re afraid, a scared coward. So you take advantage of weak people.” “It’s not based on race, it’s based on opportunity,” Smith said of the history of violence against Asians. “If they go to the bathroom and take your money, and you don’t report it, they’ll just keep riding it until the wheels fall off.” School, community and beyond The Asian students and activists reserve almost all of their criticism for administrators and the school district, which they say consistently failed to protect students. A school district spokesman did not return a call for comment. Administrators have insisted that they responded to Asian students’ complaints and tried their best to combat violence that has become part of the culture for some Philadelphia youths. “These problems are long-standing and go beyond the school and into the community,” district superintendent Arlene Ackerman said a week after the attacks. A report by a retired judge, which was commissioned by the district, said there were confrontations between a small group of black and Asian students on Dec. 2 that led to the widespread Dec. 3 attacks on random Asians. The report was criticized by Asians who say it failed to account for years of documented violence and that investigators did not interview many student victims and witnesses. Yet Duong Ly is still enthusiastic about his school. He says the English as a Second Language program is good, the teachers care, there are plenty of computers with Internet access — and it’s all free. “If I study hard I will get a lot of opportunities, scholarships, grants…,” he says. “It’s rewarding to work hard and study hard here, more than in Vietnam. I can go to a better school, go to college, get a career, then I can take care of my parents. So I like it more here.” He also likes his new home, a narrow, two-story row house bought from his uncle. They are the only Asians on the block. The front door opens into the living room, where the family’s bicycles (they have no car) share space with an old, fat television, couches and a folding table for meals. On the far wall is a handsome curio cabinet of polished wood, ornately carved, holding photographs of ancestors. Tu Ly works as a cook in an Asian supermarket. His wife is unemployed. The family has permanent resident status and expects to become naturalized citizens within a few years. Recently, Medicaid paid for a hip replacement for Duong’s mother. “We owe this country a lot,” Tu Ly says. “The government paid a lot of money for my wife’s operation. We will work our best to contribute to society. My children can choose whatever job they like, as long as they do something to contribute to this country.” New initiatives The boycott was not an easy step to take. Some students were afraid of being expelled. Many parents were against it, fearing their children would become even more conspicuous targets. Some said local activists were making the situation worse. Once it started, though, attitudes changed. “After the boycott, I felt much more confident and powerful because our voices were heard by the people,” Duong Ly says. The district installed 126 security cameras. A “50-50 club” took Asian and black students on group outings. More bilingual staffers and diversity training were added. Principal LaGreta Brown was forced out on the eve of a faculty no-confidence vote after a local newspaper discovered her certification had lapsed. All eyes are on the incoming principal. Otis Hackney III is 37, a black Philadelphia native, fresh from two years as principal of a mostly white suburban high school. He got the call from Philly one night when he was standing on the sidelines of his school stadium, watching a lacrosse game under the lights. “My first thought was, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Hackney says during an interview in his new office, the cinderblock walls bare except for a picture of the singing legend Marian Anderson , class of 1921. Soon, though, Hackney accepted the challenge. His immediate agenda includes building a relationship with the Asian community and creating a group of school stakeholders who meet regularly to set goals. Hackney says all students should feel comfortable approaching him: “I want to listen more than I speak. Students are often much more honest than adults.” He bought a new conference table and spiffed up a room for community meetings: “The message is, this is an important place where we talk about important things.” He’s getting Asians out of their special floor and into the rest of the building. He’s looking at United Nations-style translation headphones for immigrant parents. He is the fifth principal in six years, and he wants to stick around. There is much to heal. The Vietnamese embassy has complained to the U.S. State Department. The Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund filed a complaint with the Justice Department, which on August 27 found merit in the claims and advised the district to settle the matter. An investigation by the state Human Rights Commission is pending. The dynamic that exploded on Dec. 3 has not disappeared. “If you’re that angry and frustrated about something that your behavior manifests itself that way, what are we not addressing as a school, as a community?” asks Hackney. “As African-Americans, we can’t forget our own struggle to the point that we become what we fought so hard against.” “That’s one side. The other side is, when you have an immigrant population that comes in, what are the skill sets they need to function in this society? It can be very difficult for that child and that family to function in schools. So how do you put all that together? That’s my job. “Part of it is getting people to see the human side in every person, identifying with their struggle. Once people begin to do that, you realize folks aren’t as privileged as you think they are. They don’t speak the language. They don’t have that many advantages over you. You’re just not taking advantage of the ones you have.” Hope ahead? Duong Ly had a busy summer: An internship at the University of Pennsylvania on Asian health issues; a psychology class at a community college; trips to conferences in Houston and Boston to discuss his new activism; being photographed for a Philadelphia magazine story that labeled the boycotters “heroes.” In between, he spent a little time working on his college essays and a lot of time on Facebook . On Wednesday, he will walk through the battered metal doors of South Philadelphia High to start his senior year at what he hopes is a changed school. “I’m really looking forward to it,” he says. Copyright 2010 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

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