It was the height of distance learning when 16-year-old Aaron Butler took Compton Unified’s first step into data science education by joining the Young Data Scientists League. The next year, 2021, the young African American varsity basketball captain enrolled in Compton’s first high school data science course, thanks to a 2020 decision by UC’s admissions committee allowing such courses to qualify for students’ third or fourth year of high school math. Now a business economics major at UCLA, Aaron said that “before I was closed off to math, but data science made me way more interested in mathematics.”
Because of UC’s decision to count data science toward the math requirement for college admissions, Compton’s Dominguez High counselors recommended that students like Aaron enroll in data science without fear of them losing their competitive edge on university admissions. Ensuring college access is paramount for our student population, who are predominantly Hispanic, Black and Pacific-Islander and 94% of whom are socio-economically disadvantaged. Data science, with its hands-on, real-world applications, is exactly the right gateway for both math-averse and math-inclined students alike to engage with rich mathematics and take the UC-recommended four years of math coursework.
Now UC has retracted that decision, making it much less likely that counselors will recommend data science to our students. Consequently, we’re likely to see a decline in enrollment and retention during the four years of high school mathematics among students of color.
Data Science at Dominguez High School is the only course in Compton Unified that allows students to receive regular in-classroom instruction in relevant topics such as predictive mathematical modeling, machine learning, artificial intelligence (AI), sensitivity analysis, and programming, which all rely on math concepts taught and reinforced in the data science classroom. This is in addition to a number of other high-level concepts in quantitative reasoning and analysis, such as linear algebra, 3D vector space, conditional probability and more.
As the teacher of Compton’s Data Science course, in partnership with Stanford’s Youcubed, I (Jason) end up teaching content from a range of advanced math standards because, though my students are passing courses like Integrated Math 3, Precalculus and even Calculus, they are not fully grasping the material there. Students report having the opportunity to finally make sense of their traditional math courses by applying concepts as a part of the data science experience. Once they learn to think about math in context, they possess a skill that enables them to learn subsequent math content better.
Another PERSPECTIVE ON THIS TOPIC
This is a defining moment for mathematics education in California. Neural network models, the driving force behind AI tools such as ChatGPT, are one of the hottest subjects in applied mathematics research. By adopting data science in 2020, UC took a proactive step toward reframing mathematics as a relevant discipline that could equip 21st century learners with scientifically valid tools to engage in the rapidly changing information landscape. At the same time, UC recognized alternate pathways to quantitative reasoning courses in college without precluding students from science, tech, engineering and math (STEM) majors. The reversal of that decision will push math back to a position of irrelevance in the eyes of most students, especially those traditionally marginalized in STEM.
Moreover, not allowing data science courses to count for admission doesn’t only sacrifice a hook for attracting students to STEM fields. It also denies students who are not interested in STEM the opportunity to code, exacerbating the digital divide and, consequently, the wealth gap. As UC’s Office of the President wrote after the Berkeley campus created a college of computing, data science and society, “Every undergraduate in any area of study will increasingly need exposure to data science during their time on campus.”
Why should students wait until college to delve into these rich waters of mathematical study?
Narrowing the scope of acceptable mathematics perpetuates exclusivity rather than fostering inclusivity and belief in all learners’ potential. For many Dominguez High students we’ve spoken with who are either enrolled or have graduated from the UC system, success and persistence in STEM, including data science, correlated to growth mindsets, cultural competence, positive identities and supportive communities and structures.
As technology evolves, so must we reevaluate definitions, policies and support systems that address gaps in math achievement, engagement and retention. This comprehensive reassessment requires input from diverse stakeholders, fostering collective understanding and alignment toward common goals. We must put in place a review process that engages school districts, education leaders, classroom educators, faculty from the California State University, and families who can offer crucial insights on the impact of key decisions affecting our most vulnerable populations. This process must be data-driven. It is argued that allowing data science to validate Algebra 2 adversely impacted preparation for STEM degrees for students of color. Where is the data supporting this assertion? On the contrary, we have decades of data that demonstrate that the traditional Algebra 2 pathway disproportionately fails to get students of color college-ready, and falls short of promises to boost post-secondary STEM engagement.
We have seen the power of data science to increase college readiness and STEM engagement for all, particularly underrepresented students of color. As Aaron told us, “Data science was very hands-on because we were applying the math we learned. It made me like the course even more.” Every student like Aaron should have exposure to data science that opens mathematics to them as a highly relevant 21st century discipline where they know they belong.
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Jason Lee Morgan, an 18-year math teacher at Dominguez High School in Compton, instructs the Stanford YouCubed’s data science course.
The Dunamis House in Boyle Heights is owned and operated by Los Angeles Room & Board.
Credit: Los Angeles County Homeless Initiative
A home in the middle of Los Angeles has become an oasis for young adults brought together by one particular experience: homelessness.
The Dunamis House, located on Evergreen Avenue and two blocks away from Cesar Chavez Boulevard, offers a multitude of free services: a furnished room, freshly prepared meals, haircuts, workshops on topics like financial literacy, workout classes and more. Residents can also earn an income by working at the on-site café.
“There is no place like this. This is one of one,” said Sherbert Diaz, a Dunamis resident who moved into the home in December. “It gave me the opportunity to understand who I am and to leave the survival mode.”
Providing young adults with respite from the instability of homelessness is central to the mission of Los Angeles Room & Board, known as LAR&B, the nonprofit that owns and operates Dunamis House and three other homes in East Hollywood, West Adams and Westwood that serve the same purpose.
The organization was founded in 2020 by Sam Prater, who credits his 14 years of working in university student housing, plus his own experience of homelessness as a young adult, as the inspiration behind LAR&B.
“Offering someone a safe place to sleep is only one part of our mission,” Prater said. “The real work is trying to transform lives, and through the services that we provide and our incredible team, that’s where the real work happens.”
Homelessness has skyrocketed in Los Angeles in recent years. More than 6,000 children ages 0 to 17 and almost 4,000 young adults ages 18 to 24 were counted in last year’s annual survey, aimed at understanding how many people are experiencing homelessness, according to the county’s Homeless Services Authority. Such counts are typically considered estimates; advocates agree that homelessness is undercounted.
Homelessness is also most often part of a larger cycle of systemic challenges, such as high housing costs, financial instability, mental health illness and more. Exiting that cycle is far from clear-cut, and while a network of resources may often be available to someone experiencing homelessness, it can be difficult to figure out which they may qualify for and how to neatly combine them all together.
This is where LAR&B comes in. It does not expect the youth to figure out what resources they might need. Dunamis offers each resident all the resources they can. With this approach, residents have a more traditional homelike environment where, rather than trying to figure out where they will sleep every night, they can focus on attending school or earning an income.
‘You’re allowed to be who you want to be here’
Diaz had just turned 21 late last year, had no safe place to sleep, and was ineligible for a housing voucher for foster youth. Not knowing where to turn, he reached out to the Los Angeles LGBT Center, which in turn referred him to Dunamis.
As it turns out, the center is one of the places that refer young adults to LAR&B. This is because one of LAR&B’s main referral pipelines is through the county, Prater said. The LGBT Center is the lead agency for L.A. County’s coordinated entry system for youth, a network that connects people to housing.
LAR&B also receives referrals directly from colleges, including Santa Monica College and the Los Angeles Community College District, plus other partner agencies that work with foster youth, which have the organization on a list for students experiencing homelessness.
For Diaz, Dunamis was his “last hope,” he said. For years, he had been in the foster system, a system he said “never offered me peace of mind,” as Dunamis has. In the past, he was placed where he couldn’t be himself, he said, and was eventually kicked out of his last foster home for wearing makeup.
“My sexuality was always a problem,” Diaz said of the places he lived previously. “It’s a relief being (at Dunamis) because you don’t have the restrictions of anyone judging you. … You’re allowed to be who you want to be here.”
Many residents, like Josefina Sebastian, receive academic counseling while at Dunamis. She enrolled at Los Angeles City College when she arrived last April and has since transferred to California State University, Los Angeles, where she is majoring in social work.
With an active immigration case, Sebastian had found it difficult to access resources for people in her situation and was surprised to be accepted into Dunamis.
“Being here has helped me to focus more on school,” said Sebastian, 23, who also works at the Dunamis café.
Mimi Konadu, another resident, also enrolled in college after she moved into Dunamis last year, around the same time as Sebastian.
“I like that they want everybody to go to school,” she said, referring to LAR&B. She’d tried attending classes in the past, while living in the city of Palmdale in Los Angeles County, but couldn’t focus. Konadu, who is now 21, was also experiencing depression and anxiety, and being enrolled in online courses did not work for her.
“I just didn’t feel like doing anything at that time, until I got here,” said Konadu, who is attending East Los Angeles Community College. “I’m more productive every day.” The Dunamis staff’s presence and support made a significant difference, she added.
Some residents, like Dream Harris, have experienced homelessness their entire lives. He lived in Covenant House, a youth shelter in Los Angeles, right before moving to Dunamis.
While there, a friend mentioned LAR&B, but Harris said he wasn’t convinced. “It was too good to be true ‘cause I saw the pictures. I was like, ‘no, they’re going to ask for, like, money or something,” said Harris, his fellow Dunamis residents chiming in, agreeing that they too were taken aback by the beauty of the home.
“This place gives me an opportunity to really sit down and think about my decisions and what I want to do in life,” Harris said, echoing Diaz’s sentiment about finally living in a home that provided a sense of stability, so he could set aside the mindset of focusing solely on survival.
Dunamis is the first place where Harris, at 25 years old, has experienced this level of safety and stability. “I was raised in the worst of the worst. I lived on the streets at one point. I was on drugs at one point,” he said. “Now I have a nice bed to sleep in every night. I have a job now. I have opportunities, so many opportunities.”
That relief — of receiving new opportunities after extreme hardship and instability — is one that is shared by Prater, LAR&B’s founder, and it’s why Dunamis is designed and operated as it is.
As a young adult in Detroit, Prater had couch-surfed and was evicted twice. The 12th of 14 children, he was entering his teenage years when his mother died, catapulting the family into instability. His dad, he said, tried his best to offer his children as normal a childhood as possible, given their economic status, but it was tough with so many siblings.
Then, a local couple, whose church ministry was called Dunamis Outreach Ministries, learned of his family’s plight and took in three of his siblings. Prater wasn’t one of those, but he was at the Dunamis home often, and it was there that he learned there was “something more, something bigger” than the few options he had seen in front of him at that point.
That’s because in the Dunamis home, “everything is pretty, and it’s beautiful,” he said. “I felt like a weight lifted off me, and I’ll never forget that feeling of what that meant for me, what I aspired to, and then seeing them do it.”
Being exposed to such a beautiful home and generous family during those formative years provided Prater with a vision of a different life — one that he went on to pursue. He enrolled in community college at 23 and stayed in higher education, ultimately enrolling in a doctorate degree program.
“There wasn’t a way for me to repay them for the sacrifice they made for our family,” Prater said about why he named the Dunamis house after the couple that helped shape his purpose in life. “They just showed us a life in a world that we didn’t have access to in that way.”
That access to a beautiful, safe, supportive home seems to be the Dunamis way — both in Detroit where Prater lived and now in Los Angeles.
A 5-star version of student housing
In many ways, the Dunamis home’s operation is reminiscent of a college dorm.
The beds, for example, were purchased from a vendor that manufactures the extra-long twin beds typically found in dorm rooms. There is a communal kitchen that includes a fridge where, just as in a dorm, a meal might be eaten by someone other than the person it belongs to.
There are also meal times, as in a dorm’s dining hall. At Dunamis, lunch is served between noon and 2 p.m., dinner between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m., and residents who plan to be around can submit requests to be fed on the weekends. On a recent Tuesday in April, the meal option was a freshly cooked spread of chicken, beef, rice, beans and vegetables, so each person could build their own bowl.
Dunamis House is large enough to include a backyard with a couple of grills and a garden that provides the produce for the meals cooked on-site, two kitchens — one that residents can use as needed, and the other where staff cooks the free meals — a lobby, and a courtyard in the middle of the building where residents gather to study or hang out.
The courtyard prior to LAR&B’s purchase of the home. Photo Credit: ZillowA design mock-up of the courtyard.Credit: Los Angeles Room & Board
What the Dunamis courtyard looks like today.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
Surrounding the patio are a hair salon, a podcast room, a café and at least four staff offices. The home also includes 64 beds, several study room, a sun room, a living room with a large TV for movie nights.
Lining the hallways of the multistory building are posters advertising upcoming events, like a garden club that is hosted once a month on Saturdays and a support group for male-identifying residents set to begin in April. Other hallways have bulletin boards with informational posters — one showing that April is Autism Awareness Month; others offer affirmations: “I am proud of my progress. I love my place in life.”
The Dunamis home.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
The home’s second kitchen, where residents can store their food. Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
There is always an extra bedroom available in case of a last-minute addition to the home or if there is a disagreement among roommates.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
A typical bathroom found in each bedroom.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
A hairstylist and barber provide free haircuts in this room every other week.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
One of the home’s many sitting nooks.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
In the lobby, residents can pick up Covid-19 tests and Narcan.Photo Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales
In the backyard, residents can grill and hang out underneath pergolas.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
Other aspects of the home are dictated by the unique needs of the residents. A team of social workers, for example, is on site to meet weekly with each resident, to discuss everything from their mental health, to career coaching, to basic resources needed for their families. A barber and hairstylist visit the home every other Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday to offer free haircuts.
The home does not permit social drinking, which is typically associated with college students, but it addresses incidents of substance abuse by residents. At least five residents have been referred to outpatient care for such treatment, but their place at Dunamis remains available and ready for them as soon they once again “get grounded and get well,” Prater said.
Residents can live at Dunamis for up to 36 months, after which they have the option of moving to one of LAR&B’s other homes. At that point, they begin to pay a subsidized rent of $800 monthly. The idea, said Prater, is to slowly guide the young adults so they remain housed and stable long after leaving LAR&B.
In its design, Dunamis stands in sharp contrast to many of the places where residents lived previously, such as a group home or juvenile hall, where design is rarely a top priority.
“We’re trying to be the antithesis of that,” said Prater.
The home features walls painted in warm hues, ambient lighting, modern furniture and cushioned cozy seating nooks.
“Colors and fabrics and light and airflow — all those things impact people’s experience in housing,” said Prater. “I wanted to kind of create a space that felt aspirational, inspirational, that felt like, ‘Oh wow, I’m proud to come home here.’”
The lobby prior to LAR & B’s purchase of the home.Credit: Zillow
A design mock-up of the lobby.Credit: Los Angeles Room & Board
What the lobby looks like today.Credit: Betty Márquez Rosales / EdSource
His vision for Dunamis was shaped in part by his years working in university student housing, a career he left in February 2020 to grow LAR&B.
While working there, he’d hear stories from students who were trying to stay in school while struggling to meet their basic needs. He was limited in what he could offer those students — mostly short-term solutions, like a 14-day free stay in a dorm room and a $500 grant.
“If you got somebody who doesn’t have a place to live, you know how wildly disruptive it is to their life to say, ‘Alright, we can look out for you but only for 14 days’?” Prater said. “I formed L.A. Room & Board really in response to me working in that space and feeling powerless to help.”
The new Dunamis house is tucked between residential homes, an auto repair shop that hands out free meals on holidays, and a corner neighborhood market that features a mural by a locally renowned artist.
The building was originally built in 1914 but was vacant for years before LAR&B purchased it in 2022 for $11.6 million. That funding came from the California’s Homekey Program, which develops housing for the state’s homeless population. The Homekey grant requires that the county cover 45% of LAR&B’s operating costs for several years. The remaining $3 million to $3.5 million needed to cover ongoing operating costs each year is raised by Prater via private donations.
The land the building sits on measures over an acre, leaving sufficient space for large front and back yards. It’s in Boyle Heights, a neighborhood known for its deep history of social and political activism, most recently in its ongoing push against gentrification, and surrounded by downtown Los Angeles, Dodger Stadium and East Los Angeles.
And quite importantly for the LAR&B mission, the home is situated near multiple universities and colleges: University of Southern California, Cal State Los Angeles, and East Los Angeles Community College, to name a few.
But beyond the beauty of the space and its location, several residents said what most stood out to them is that they felt welcomed from day one.
“I think that’s what the difference is,” said Diaz with Konadu finishing his sentence, as Harris nodded in agreement: “It feels like a home.”
This story has been updated to correct Palmdale’s location. It is in Los Angeles County, not San Bernardino County.
Catherine Borek first came to Compton’s Dominguez High School intending to spend a few years with Teach for America before becoming a professor. That was 29 years ago. Hired to teach AP English literature, the newbie teacher quickly jumped into the fray as a drama teacher as well.
A theater kid back in high school, she knew instinctively she needed to bring classical texts to life for her students by lifting the words off the page and into the spotlight. The experience has changed her life and the lives of many of her students.
“You find yourself when you’re up on that stage,” said Borek, a tireless educator who was named a California Teacher of the Year in 2023.
Alas, there was no stage, no rehearsal space and no fundraising. All she had going for her was chutzpah. The cash-strapped school had not put on a play in 20 years. That’s when Borek discovered her “MacGyver mode.”
Catherine Borek
“You take what you have, and you make something out of that,” said the 50-year-old mother of two. “We put on plays; we put on operas; we put on poetry slams.”
The unstoppable teacher can make theater magic happen in a computer lab. She can put on a show without a cent from the school budget. She can get teenagers to put their phones away and enjoy being social. She helps them ignite the ingenuity in each other.
“There’s something about creativity that’s almost religious to me,” as she puts it. “It’s the space to almost be divine, you know? And we use theater to get us there.”
Borek joined Teach for America — a nonprofit that recruits graduates from top universities to serve at least two years teaching in low-income schools — right out of Reed College. She had intended to be a teacher only temporarily, but quickly fell in love with her vocation.
She believes that students from the hardscrabble Compton district, a place where gunshots are as much a part of the environment as graduation, deserve every bit as much cultural enrichment as children of privilege. She often refers to her students as “scholars,” preferring to discuss their merits instead of her own.
“It lifts you up,” she said with customary modesty. “The students have a different energy here. They’re so gung-ho and excited and enthusiastic that it helps dispel some of the melancholy that we see around the world right now.”
That’s why, over the years, she has empowered her students to be cultural ambassadors, combating long-held stereotypes of Compton. They have completed the LA Marathon, collaborated with the LA Opera, made it to the regional level of the Poetry Out Loud competition, starred in a Keurig commercial and started a rugby club. A 2003 documentary about Borek’s first class play, “OT: Our Town,” a staging of the Thorton Wilder famous paean to small-town life, captures the raucous creativity of a student ensemble tackling a masterpiece on a makeshift stage in the cafeteria.
In that documentary, Ebony Star Norwood-Brown, the 16-year-old playing the narrator, wryly noted that the arts is one way to battle tired “Boyz n the Hood” tropes.
“Compton is home of gangster rap and gangsters,” said Norwood-Brown. “That’s all people know about Compton. That’s all people think about Compton. … We’re way different from what you think we are.”
Drama has also become an antidote to a world dominated by screens where teens sometimes miss out on the magic of human connection, the bond between students and teachers that can make a lesson spark. Fist bumps and check-ins are part of her curriculum.
“One of the most heartbreaking parts of the pandemic is that we became an online learning community instead of a human, face-to-face learning community,” she said wistfully. “Pre-pandemic, it wasn’t quite as sedentary, and I don’t remember computers being the No. 1 source of knowledge and information.”
Borek prefers to frame learning as a cathartic experience, so that lessons resonate more deeply amid our short-attention span culture. She once had her class, a generation scarred by the pandemic, make scary movies to help them confront their fears.
“Borek’s approach to instruction and lesson building is a reminder of what the last few years have demonstrated to be most important in education: people and the bodies we occupy,” said Caleb Oliver, principal of Dominguez. “When technology fails and funds are low, these endure as the conduit to learning that has stood the test of time. We learn best through action and others.”
Catherine Borek, center, in a yellow top, relaxes with some of her drama students.Credit: Courtesy of Catherine Borek
The veteran teacher soon realized that many of her students needed drama, not just to become more creative, but also to help them cope with the pressing mental health issues that mark their generation. This is theater as exposure therapy.
“While so many of our students are struggling with anxiety and depression, theater is one of the best forms of therapy,” she said. “It offers exposure bit by bit. We expose them to good stress, and we help them strengthen their wings so that they can fly.”
She recalls one student so paralyzed by anxiety that he couldn’t even get up onstage when he started. He wanted to drop the class. But she convinced him to stick with it until he could stand his ground in the spotlight.
“Communication, teamwork and a positive attitude are among the skills that we strive to leave our students with to be ready for college and the workplace,” Oliver said. “Borek’s students always return years later crediting her with igniting these skills within them in her class.”
Two other students, new immigrants, were shy because they didn’t speak much English and felt awkward with their peers. During the semester, they became emboldened enough to perform a poem onstage.
“They worked together not just to say the poem, but to become the poem,” Borek said. “These words became movements, these young women worked through language barriers to communicate beyond words. That is the power of the arts.”
Drama can also provide an escape valve for students feeling crushed by the stress of trying to get into their dream college amid a sea of valedictorians.
“There’s a lot of pressure on kids in high school right now,” she said. “It’s sort of an unforgiving, relentless punch in the face. And even if parents aren’t telling them they need to be perfect, they’re hearing it from everywhere else. You’ve got to get straight As.”
Feeling overwhelmed by the world can make some young people wall themselves off. Drama can help break down those barriers.
“I honestly do feel like it changed my life,” said Nathalie Reyes, 17. “I used to be super shy, and speaking up in class felt nearly impossible, but drama gave me a space where I could experiment with my voice. It taught me how to take up space, be confident in my ideas, and not overthink every little thing.”
Steeping in the wisdom of the past is one way to shield yourself against the worries of the present. That’s why unlocking the universality of literature is the heart of Borek’s mission.
As the narrator in “Our Town,” puts it: “There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.”
To her great chagrin, when her English students first read Arthur Miller’s iconic tragedy “Death of a Salesman,” it just didn’t click with them. The trouble was they loathed Willy Loman, the has-been traveling salesman.
Never one to give up easily, Borek took them to see a revival of the play in Burbank. It was a light bulb moment. The production opened their eyes to Miller’s piercing insights into the dark side of the American dream. One of her students even realized that Loman reminded him of his own father. Tears were shed.
“It was gobsmacking for them,” she recalls happily. “I can’t tell you how many students came up to me and they’re like, ‘Man, I related to that, the frustration between that father and son.’ It was their first time at the theater, and they were crying.”