HOMEROOM Hero / When Brentwood's Billy Moss graduated from Harvard, there was only one place he wanted to teach
Newsday; Long Island, N.Y.; Dec 24, 2000; Chastity Pratt. STAFF WRITER;

Abstract:
1) Newsday Photo by Dick Kraus - Welcome back: [William Moss III] graduated from Brentwood High in 1995. Now, after attending Harvard, he's back in class at the school teaching math. 2) Newsday Photo by Jim Peppler - Moss graduated from Brentwood with a plethora of awards, many of which hang on the wall of his room in his parent's house. 3) Moss, seen here in his high school year-book photo, wasn't a "mister" yet. But friends say he was already a motivator and an organizer. 4) Newsday Photo by Jim Peppler - Moss now has homework of a different king: grading tests from his math classes. 5) Newsday Photo by Jim Peppler - After Harvard, Moss moved back in wiht his parents, [Helen Moss] and [William Moss II]. 6) Newsday Photo by J. Michael Dombroski - Moss chats with colleagues [Ellen Edelstein], his former math teacher, in an empty classroom. "The biggest challenge for novice teachers is getting through the lessons," she said. 7) Newsday Photo by Dick Kraus - [Billy Moss] is one of about 460 former Brentwood High students who work in the district's schools. 8) Newsday Cover photo by Dick Kraus. - Students pass William Moss III in a hallway at Brentwood High School.; The Graduate. Billy Moss left Brentwood High in 1995 for Harvard, determined to be a teacher. Guess who's back? Newsday Cover photo by Dick Kraus. - Students pass William Moss III in a hallway at Brentwood High School.

Quotes: 'I want to inspire, to help them see that you can graduate from Brentwood and do anything.' - William Moss III

WILLIAM MOSS III was stunned. The rookie teacher stood before 16 silent students in his fifth period class last month, his jaw dropped wide in disbelief.

He stared at the 10th and 11th graders taking Sequential I math. He's expected to help many of them pass the Regents test when they take it in January. Some will be taking it for the second time. It's a test they must pass in order to graduate.

So Moss had asked the Brentwood High students a simple question: "What is a perfect square?" And they were looking at him as if he had just fallen from the sky.

"I'll write some," he said, scribbling 0, 1, 4, 9 and 16 on the board. "See a pattern? What comes next?"

"Eighteen!" one kid yelled out.

"No! This is a tragedy! Y'all were supposed to learn this in elementary school," Moss said, half-laughing with - not at - the kids.

"We didn't go to Harvard Elementary School, Mister," one student answered, drawing raucous laughs from the other easily distracted teens.

"I went to Loretta Park [Elementary], just like some of you," Moss, a recent Harvard University graduate, shot back, quelling the giggles. "Look, don't try and fool me, I grew up in this school district ... What comes next?"

"Twenty-five?" a voice finally said.

"Yesss!" Moss replied, relieved.

Every small victory counts in Moss' class. Every bit of progress affirms his decision to return to Brentwood High.

Billy Moss, 23, graduated from the school in 1995 with a plethora of honors that opened the doors to Harvard - a rare feat for Brentwood graduates. He majored in math during his undergraduate years and received a master's degree in education there earlier this year. But instead of taking his impressive resume to a high-paying district (or a high-paying profession) Moss temporarily moved back in with his parents and took a job at his old high school.

He is a native son returning from the Ivy League and all that still means about prestige and power in America. He has come home to help his town's children get the kind of education they need to go to a big-name college or wherever else they want in life.

Moss is only one of about 460 former Brentwood High students who work in the Brentwood schools - Long Island's largest district - including about 190 teachers and four principals. But Brentwood's first Westinghouse science competition semi-finalist returns at a crucial time. Starting this year, high school students must pass the Regents math test to graduate. Last year, 57 percent of Brentwood's seniors passed the test.

Moss' teaching load includes three periods of Sequential I math, the class that most closely reflects the math Regents test, along with two periods of Sequential II, a more rigorous class. One of his Sequential I classes is a boisterous group consisting mostly of students with special needs or behavior issues.

A majority of his 135 students have failed the Sequential I class or the Regents test.

So this year, as Moss tries to teach them how to be successful students, they will challenge the probationary teacher in his quest to be a success on the other side of the desk.

For each of them, success will be measured by how the students advance. Will he coax chronic truants back into the fold? If so, will he be able to keep their attention? Will he hold on to their priceless respect? Will they progress in math?

"If those who just don't get it show even the smallest interest," Moss said, "Or if they say, 'Oh! I get it,' then I will feel successful."

***

Not much has really changed at the school in the five years he was away, Moss said. There are fewer white faces among the predominantly black and Hispanic student body. Fashion has evolved - more girls wear acrylic nails and bulky platform shoes, some black guys wear blow-out Afros or cornrows and some Hispanic boys wear gel-slicked hair. Everybody wears shell-toe Adidas, pagers or cell phones and their language is somewhat looser. But the school feels the same, Moss said.

Despite the honors he racked up as a student, Moss was no geek. He was known as a motivator, an organizer. Gregarious. Optimistic. He was elected class president - every year. He roused students to demand more advanced placement classes, he was awarded a $20,000 Coca- Cola scholarship, an NAACP award, a community service proclamation from Suffolk County Executive Robert Gaffney, several local scholarships, a research apprenticeship at the State University at Stony Brook and a first-place award in the Long lsland Math Fair.

Moss was in the stock market club, on the wrestling team, the Science Olympiads team, in the New York State Advisor Student Association, the Parent Teacher Student Association and he played viola in the orchestra. The list goes on.

But when he reminisces about his high school years, he doesn't talk about all of that. It takes his friends and family to recall the list.

His certificates, degrees and trophies cover the wall in his boyhood room, which is now an office. It may sound like a cliche, but his parents are glad he came home to "give back."

"I told him, 'If you want to stay two years and move on, it's OK,'" said his mother, Helen Moss, who's an activist with the Islip NAACP. "He can offer the kids his experience and advice about goal setting, getting into college, stuff kids don't know because nobody is telling them."

Education was serious business for Billy Moss and his sister, Tanya, who is studying to be a teacher at the University of Hartford.

When they were young, the Moss kids had to put their homework on the kitchen table at night so Helen Moss could correct it when she awoke at 5:30 a.m. If she found a mistake, the unlucky child had to redo the assignment before school. And no after-school jobs were allowed.

"The only thing they had to do was study," said his dad, William Moss II. "That was their labor."

Moss' mother heads the billing department of a Huntington corporation, while his father is a former nurse. Elated that their son got into Harvard - he applied only after a friend dared him - Moss' parents encouraged him to be an accountant or a doctor. But he would not be deterred.

"I told them, 'You're sending me to Harvard to be a teacher...' They asked, 'Are you sure?' about a million times. They probably won't remember, but it took a while for them to get used to the idea," Moss said.

Moss could use his Ivy League degree to make more money if he wanted. He earns about $41,000 and despite several scholarships is still paying off student loans. But teaching is probably in Moss' blood. He has two aunts who have taught in Belize, where his mother was born and where he went to research his master's thesis.

"I taught vacation Bible school and tutored in high school. I knew since about the 11th grade that I wanted to be a teacher," Moss said.

And returning home to teach, en route to earning a doctorate degree in education (and who knows, maybe becoming the country's education secretary) was always part of the plan, he said.

"I want to inspire, to help them see that you can graduate from Brentwood and do anything."

***

On the first day of school this year, Moss told his students a folk tale. He tells the long, expressive version, but in short, it goes something like this:

A rich guy stops an ordinary guy and says, "I'll let you go into my diamond mine and take as many diamonds as you want. You have 24 hours. Whatever you can pull out, you can have - for free!"

The lucky guy gathers some digging gear and heads into the mine, where he is soon surrounded by diamonds of untold beauty and value. He digs out one diamond and then gets drowsy. So he sleeps, but for 22 hours. When he awakes in a rush, he breaks his pick ax and can't dig. He stumbles out of the shaft with only one jewel.

Upon hearing the tale, Moss' students called the guy a fool, an idiot. How could he miss out on all of that "bling-bling?"

The moral to the story?

"I tell them my mind is worth like $400,000 in education, add that to all the teachers' in the school," Moss explained. "They would be crazy to go through three years here and not mine our minds."

It's small gestures like the diamond story that have earned the students' respect and affection.

Moss has an informal rapport with them because he's close to their age, graduated from their school and knows some of the same people they know in the community. Some try to joke and call him "Billy," only to be sternly corrected. Typically they call him "Mister" (the Latino kids call most teachers "Mister" or "Miss" because it's English for Seor and Seora, and the other kids caught on).

However, that kind of informal relationship is a door that swings both ways: They like him, so they listen when he speaks. They like him, so sometimes they joke with him too much, making him yell or threaten detention, something he's reluctant to do.

Take Halloween for example.

His sixth period class is a pilot course where most of the two dozen students have learning or emotional disabilities, so two teachers' aides help keep the peace.

For Halloween Moss created a math game called "Sudden Death." Two students raced each other in solving algebra problems. The winner got candy. The loser stayed at the board. If both racers were stumped, a student from the class could "steal" and win the candy, leaving the original players at the board.

"It forced them to get it right or risk embarrassment," Moss said.

But it also resulted in mayhem at the board as one student tried to erase another's answer. Meanwhile, the rest of the class broke into several small conversations, a few laced with expletives.

Moss eventually regained control by raising his voice - without addressing each infraction.

"I ignore a lot," Moss said. "You have to. If they get punished [removed from class] they'll come to class the next day lost and behind. Who needs that?"

***

It's not surprising that Moss' master's degree is in moral development and moral education. He has a strong sense of right and wrong. As a 10-year-old, he quit boxing after winning the Junior Olympics. "I went all the way to Florida for a fight and the judges were totally biased. I couldn't take that type of treatment. That was just wrong," Moss explains.

It was also wrong that Brentwood High had no alumni association, so he started one two years ago.

On the other hand, it's right for students to take part in governing their school, so Moss signed on as an adviser to the student council this year.

In his first quarter as a teacher, he felt that kids needed some college preparatory advice, so he held a session after school. He also offers private tutoring (for a fee) to kids preparing for SATs or Regents.

Yet his career is in its infancy, and he has a lot to learn.

His former math teacher turned colleague, Ellen Edelstein, said Moss' energy will pay off as long as he learns to pace himself. "I told him, 'Billy don't reinvent the wheel. Use the lesson plans that are available,' because he likes to do things his way."

Edelstein, who still has a copy of Moss' math fair project from 12th grade, said, "The biggest challenge for novice teachers is getting through the lessons. Something you think should take a period could end up taking three days to teach."

Being a rookie also means Moss doesn't have his own classroom, so he has a class-on-a-cart - a wagon with an overhead projector and all of his supplies on it that he moves from one classroom to another.

Third period he monitors about 80 kids in study hall. Most chat with friends or snack on cafeteria food. Periodically, students will gather around Moss' desk while he reads their college essays or looks over their applications.

Once he jumped between two boys to keep them from fighting.

"I commend him for that, most teachers wouldn't a went into that," said Terryann Roberts, a senior whom Moss helped through an application to Baruch College.

"He's got a lot of charisma, he's helpful. And who would go to Harvard and come back here?" she said.

Moss' students explain that they respect him not only because he's young and black and understands their culture. Adults may not want to hear it, but youth today don't merely respect an adult because they're an adult.

"He respects us, so we respect him," said Miguel Rivera, one of the chatty students whom Moss often has to move to the front of the class during fifth period. "If he gave us attitude, we would give him attitude," Miguel said.

The demand for respect is used to control youth, the kids say. But just because someone is an adult doesn't mean they deserve control and doesn't mean they have young kids', especially black and Latino kids', best interest at heart, said Janisha Hamilton, a 10th grader who earned the only 100 percent Moss gave for last quarter.

"I took this class [Sequential I math] last year, but I never went. But Mr. Moss tries to make it fun," Janisha said. "He's your teacher and your friend. He respects us."

Scott Boller, a 1997 Brentwood graduate who is finishing a teaching degree at Queens College, thinks that one day Moss will be a principal.

Boller observes classes at Brentwood as part of his degree program, but after seeing what it's like to be a teacher, he is considering taking the test to be a New York City cop.

"Billy was a legend in school. He made enemies in the administration because he was a pain, always getting kids to try to sign a petition or something if there was a rule he didn't like," said Boller, who credits Moss for encouraging him to strive in high school. "He's a motivator. If anybody can help these kids pass that [Regents] test, it's Billy."

The Regents test is not discussed every day in class, but it's in the back of everyone's mind. Merice German, a senior who'll be taking the test to graduate and go to college, is paying Moss with money from her after-school job to privately tutor her.

"I didn't study for it before, and I didn't ask a lot of questions. Mr. Moss said to me one day, 'Merice, you don't talk much, do you understand the work?' I see him as an inspiration."

Inspiration fuels progress. And progress comes in doses big and small.

On the last day of the first quarter, Moss assigned an essay: "Revelations." The students had to write about what they accomplished in math and their goals for the future.

"But Mister! Why?" the sixth period students complained. "It's your job to know this," one girl said.

Mistake.

"NO!" Moss shot back loudly, silencing the complaints.

"It's your job to know where you're going, it's my job to help you get there!" he yelled angrily.

This time it was the kids' turn to be stunned. It was the last day of the marking period and finally they saw what it took to get Moss upset - reluctance to take responsibility for their own lives.

After his outburst, the kids quietly began to scrounge through folders for their "Moss money" - the slips of green paper they earn for completing homework and extra credit assignments.

When called, they went to his desk to cash in their Moss money and see their first-quarter grades.

For the remainder of the period, there were more moments of calm than usual. And for all the hard times they give Moss, on this day they showed him that they do care about their math grades.

That was progress. For Moss, it was the kind of progress that makes being home again worthwhile.

Feedback Question

Billy Moss hopes to inspire his students. Tell us about the teacher who did the most to spark your interest in learning.

Mail your brief reply - or comments about anything else in this section - to Kim Nava-Fiorio, Feedback, LI Life, 235 Pinelawn Rd., Melville, N.Y. 11747-4250. Or e-mail

lilife@newsday.com with "feedback" in the subject field. Please include your name, community and telephone number; responses may be edited. Letters become the property of Newsday and may be used in all media

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction or distribution is prohibited without permission.