Texas Womens Conference

October 20, 2005
Prepared remarks by Melinda French Gates, co-chair

Good morning.

Thank you, Mrs. Perry, for that kind introduction, and thank you and Governor Perry for inviting me here. It’s great to be back home in Texas.

I’m here for the same reason, I’ll bet, that many of you are. When a group of women this interesting and accomplished gets together, well, I want to be there too.

I am struck by the diverse backgrounds of the women gathered here today: doctors, teachers, engineers, business leaders, and public servants. It’s an honor to be here with all of you.

Let me open by thanking the people of Texas for supporting your neighbors—the proud and determined people of the Gulf Coast who have suffered so much loss in the past few months. You’ve offered food, clothing, and jobs. You’ve welcomed them into your homes, churches, and schools. Thank you for reaching out and taking them in. You make me proud to be a Texan.

Hurricane Katrina created one tragedy, and revealed another. The storm broke levees and unleashed a flood that killed hundreds and left hundreds of thousands homeless. But after most residents had evacuated New Orleans, we were confronted with horrifying TV images of those we, as a society, had left behind—the old, the young, the sick, the poor—most of them African Americans. Unlike the people who fled the storm, those left behind did not have the means to make it to safety.

Katrina, as you know, was followed by Hurricane Rita, which added to the damage, and put even more families out of their homes. 

These storms left us with two rebuilding projects.

The first is rebuilding the homes, businesses, buildings, and public places that were destroyed. 

That is a massive project, but the second one is even bigger. We have to address the inequities that were not created by the hurricanes, but exposed by them. We have to ensure that people have the opportunity to make the most of their lives. This is what I would like to talk about today.  

All of us, long before these tragedies, have had moments where we’ve seen the startling divisions in our society. When I was in high school—at Ursuline Academy in Dallas—I volunteered in the public schools, where I sat at the back of a large math class and tutored students who were falling behind.

The teacher was very committed, but she had more to do than she could manage. 

The following summer, I volunteered at the Dallas County courthouse—and it was clear to me that the prosecutors were often dealing with people the schools hadn’t been able to handle a few years before. 

More than eleven years ago now, when I was engaged to Bill and my wedding day was approaching, a bridal event was given in my honor. It was a small gathering, with only women present. Friends and family members offered short talks and toasts, and one of the women who spoke was Bill’s mother, Mary Gates.

She read aloud from a wonderful letter about marriage that she had written to me, and at the close, she said: “From those to whom much is given, much is expected.”

At the time of our wedding, Mary was seriously ill with cancer, and she was sending me a message that was tender and affectionate but also deeply serious.

Mary and her husband, Bill Senior, had always done wonderful things with their charitable giving. She wanted to make sure that her son and I did the same—and much more.

Mary had impressed that same message on my husband over a much longer period of time.

Bill and I both have a very strategic turn of mind—so when we decided to turn our attention to philanthropy, we were determined to invest in ways that would make the biggest possible impact in reducing inequity.

Around the world, we believe we can do the most to promote equity by helping to improve global health—particularly by focusing on diseases that affect the world’s poorest people.

Here in America, we agreed that education is the best path for promoting equality and improving lives.

At first, that seemed to us to be largely a challenge of making sure that high school graduates had the money to pay for college. Then we quickly recognized that there is more than one barrier to college.

There’s the barrier of paying for it, and there’s the barrier of being prepared for it. The second one is a much bigger barrier than I think most people realize.

Let me give you some facts that startled us: Of every 100 students in ninth grade in America today, only 70 will graduate from high school. Only 40 will go directly to college. Only 30 will be prepared for college.

These numbers have devastating consequences for our country—for the people stranded in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, and for people in similar economic circumstances in cities and states across America.

If we don’t make dramatic improvements in helping all our students graduate from high school ready for college or work—we will never break the cycle of poverty we saw depicted so painfully in New Orleans.

High school graduates who do not attend college earn an average of $25,000 a year.

For a family of five, that’s close to the poverty line.

If you’re an Hispanic high school graduate, you earn less than that. If you’re a black high school graduate, you earn still less—about 14 percent less than a white high school graduate.

High school dropouts fare even worse. Only half of them have jobs. They are twenty times more likely to go to jail than college graduates. One in four turns to welfare or other forms of government assistance.

Our high schools are getting these results because they were designed for these results.

Fifty years ago, people believed you could train an adequate workforce by sending only a third of your students to college.

Today, when it’s really hard to get a good job without postsecondary education, two thirds of our students are tracked into courses that won’t ever get them ready for college or prepare them for a good job—no matter how well the students learn, and no matter how well the teachers teach.

In district after district across the country, wealthy white students are taught Algebra II while low-income and minority students are taught how to balance a checkbook.

The first group goes on to college and thriving careers; the second group will struggle to make a living wage.

This is no way to prepare our children for life in the information age.

Earlier this year, my husband, Bill, spoke to governors from around the country and said that our high schools are “obsolete.” That word, “obsolete,” caused some controversy. But let me tell you what we mean by it.

It’s not that our high schools are broken, flawed, or under-funded—though a case could be made for every one of those points. And we certainly don’t mean to criticize teachers and principals; they’re smart and diligent, and they work hard for our students.

By “obsolete,” we mean that—even when they’re working exactly as designed—our high schools cannot teach our children what they need to know to excel in college or get a good job today.

This presents us with an enormous challenge—but it’s one we can meet. We designed our high schools, and we can re-design them.

We’re seeing that right here in Texas.

Under Governor Perry’s leadership, Texas became one of the first states in the country to automatically enroll every high school student in a college-prep curriculum.

Texas was also the first state in the country to require schools to create individual graduation plans for at risk students, to keep them from dropping out.

Many states are following; Texas was first. You’re lucky to have that kind of leadership in the governor’s office.

This will not be easy. This is a deep and difficult societal change we’re pushing for. If we’re going to achieve Governor Perry’s goals, the whole state of Texas has to change its expectations of our high schools, and play a role in reforming them.

Education is one of those rare areas of public policy where every single citizen has informed opinions based on personal experience.

If those of us who were blessed with a good education can take a moment and reflect on our own schooling, we often discover that we have an intuitive sense of what works.

When I was in seventh grade at St. Monica Elementary School in Dallas, I had a very special teacher by the name of Sister Judith Marie.

I didn’t know I was good at math, but she did. She put me in an accelerated group—a bunch of boys, and me. I worked harder than I had ever worked before, and it was thrilling. I realized that I loved math. When I went on to high school at Ursuline Academy, my teachers kept pushing me in math and encouraged me in my new passion: computers.

One phenomenal woman, Mrs. Bauer, my math teacher, managed through great personal effort to get ten Apple 2 computers for our class.

This was in 1980. She was a single mom, working full time as a teacher, raising three boys at home, and getting her Ph.D. in computer science on the side.

But she wasn’t going to let us miss out on computers. She set me on my way.

Great relationships and a rigorous curriculum made all the difference for me. Years later, when Bill and I were deciding how to invest our foundation’s dollars in education reform, it made intuitive sense to take an approach that built on these ideas.
 
We believe that every excellent high school has certain qualities. And these qualities form the basis for the work we support to redesign schools.

We call them the new three R’s.

• The first R is Rigor—making sure all students are given a challenging curriculum that prepares them for college or work;
  
• The second R is Relevance—making sure students have courses and projects that clearly relate to their lives and their goals;
  
• The third R is Relationships—making sure students have a number of adults who know them, look out for them, and push them to achieve.

There is mounting evidence that a new school design based on the new three R’s gets excellent results, and we’re seeing an impact here in Texas.

For example, the Yes College Prep Schools are now operating on three campuses in the Houston area.
 
More than two thirds of the students qualify for free or reduced-price lunches. These are students who often do poorly in school–but not in these schools.

The school day lasts until 5 p.m., and all students attend mandatory summer school sessions.

Every one of their graduates has been accepted at a four-year university.

The first graduating class went to college in 2001, and 76 percent of Yes graduates are still in college—well above the national average of 50 percent.

And 85 percent of Yes graduates are the first in their families to attend college.

This school is changing lives.

This is just one example—there are many more.

I also want to mention a special school
I visited in Washington, D.C. It was established as a charter school to serve at-risk youth and those who’ve been involved with the court system.

It has low teacher-student ratios and great mentoring relationships, which have helped so many students turn their lives around.

One young girl there told me: “I was nameless at my old school. Here, when I walked in the door, three adults knew my name.”

The day I visited, the entire school was abuzz, getting ready for an important visitor who was coming the next day.

Some students were preparing talks about their projects. Others were rehearsing poetry they had written themselves.

These students who were so intensely excited to show off their learning were students of the Maya Angelou Public Charter School—and the guest they were preparing to receive the next day was…

Maya Angelou.

I understand Dr. Angelou is in Austin and will be speaking here later today. I know that if she had seen the excitement of these students the day before her visit—and how proud they were to show her what they were learning—she would have had to sit right down and write a poem about it.

There is just nothing more inspiring than seeing students beat the odds and discover the thrill of learning. Our job is to flip the odds—so that, in the future, failure becomes as rare for these students as success is today. 

We’re making progress.

These schools I’ve named are just a few of the schools our foundation is working with as we promote the new three R’s and help redesign the American high school.

In all, we have invested nearly one billion dollars to support more than fifteen hundred high schools across the country.

In Texas, we are collaborating on the Texas High School Project with the Michael and Susan Dell Foundation, the Communities Foundation of Texas, and Governor Perry.

Together, we have all set out to create 75 to 80 new or redesigned high schools throughout the state, especially in communities with high numbers of poor and minority students.

The women in this room can do a lot to help. I have firsthand knowledge of how tough and resourceful Texas women can be. (So does my husband.)

First, you can insist that every student in your community can and should graduate from high school ready for college, work, and citizenship.

Make sure your elected leaders know they have your support to make the changes necessary to get this job done.

Second, you can hold your local school accountable. Governor Perry can’t be in every school in Texas—but you can.

If everyone here were to simply place a phone call to their local high school, and ask what they’re doing to prepare every student for college—it could help change the emphasis and expectations in our schools.

Third, you can offer your help in turning around failing schools or opening new ones. Around the country, businesses are collaborating with high schools to design better courses. Boston, after a decade-long collaboration with local businesses, is now one of the best urban school districts in the country.

If they can do it there, we can do it here.
 
Think of the difference it will make if even one young girl from a tough background graduates from high school ready for college. Then multiply that impact by millions. That's what's at stake here.

If we keep the system as it is, countless children will never get a chance to fulfill their promise—because of their zip code, their income, or the color of their skin.

That is offensive to our values, it's an insult to who we are, and we can change it.

The key to change is not in the work of one state or one school district. The key is in our own communities and our own commitment.

That's where the women in this room can make all the difference. If you believe in it, and you insist on it, no one can tell you “no.”

I often take inspiration from the words of
Margaret Mead: "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed individuals can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

The tragedy of New Orleans has forced us to see the poverty around us.

Let's make the most of the moment to rebuild not just the City of New Orleans, but our schools across the country—to help our children make the most of their lives.

We can do it, and nothing in this country is more important.

Thank you very much.