What’s all the fuss about Comstock schools?

August 5, 2006

By Bill Sontag
Feature Writer

It’s never been an exodus in the Biblical sense, but many Del Rio parents have sent their kids 30 miles northwest to attend schools in this tiny ranch community of Comstock. Why?

Kenn Norris, 67, superintendent of Comstock Independent School District, manages his entire domain – kindergarten through 12th grade – on one campus at the edge of town, overlooking a grey sweep of desert scrub, sometimes dotted with cotton-candy-pink cenizo.

Comstock’s academic corner is more than a collection of classrooms. Though the 2006 TEA “Recognized” Comstock School is not in the geographic center of town, it is nevertheless a community center, a touchstone for the future of local kids – generations past, present and future.

As much as he loves his job, Norris wants no part of an image that he is recruiting to this oasis of learning, nourished by rural values, healthy finances and a supportive community.

Still, Del Rio students swell the campus population each year, comprising 59 percent of the total of 202 students registered last year. These may have added urgency to a recent bond election to expand the school. So, a $4 million referendum sailed through with 86 percent approval from the voters in 2004.

Though things are humming in anticipation of the August 14 start of the school year, Norris spent half a day with LIVE!, July 20, discussing with numbers and philosophy why the small district is appealing to students and parents.

"I think there’s a certain charm to a country school. It kind of goes back to a way of life we hear our grandparents talk about, or our parents talk about. Now, to take it further, there’s a whole bunch of S’s that you can talk about.

"I think there’s a ‘stability’ here, and there’s a ‘safety’ here; I think there’s a ‘security’, to some extent, with people here. I think ‘scholastic’ is another one of those S’s that you look at, and I think ‘sports’ is another thing you look at. And then, too, we have a very good staff.”

But Norris, the district staff and the school board have other assets that have seduced parents into putting their kids on Comstock’s yellow school buses in Del Rio for the half-hour ride – coming and going – to attend school there.

Comstock School is uncrowded and diverse. Elementary (kindergarten through fifth grade) students totaled 80 last year, while middle school classrooms had only 55 students. The high school population was 76. The entire student body is about 65 percent Hispanic, 33 percent Anglo, and two percent African American and Asian, according to Norris.

"Let me tell you what, we’ve had two dropouts here (in Norris’s six years as superintendent),” and for most years, the official rate is zero. Add to that a 98 percent average daily attendance rate, a student-teacher ratio not to exceed 18 to one (usually much lower according to Academic Excellence Indicator System reports from Texas Education Agency), and good financing thanks to a broad and affluent tax base.

Norris avoided an important funding comparison with Del Rio. But it should be noted that, while SFDRCISD, judged by the state legislature as a “property poor” taxing district, utilizes every penny of more than $1.8 million received from the “School District Equalization Fund” (a.k.a. the “Robin Hood” fund), Comstock ISD actually contributes to it.

“We are one of the Robin Hoods, and we’re obligated to send out money. We’re property wealthy and we will send out almost $600,000 this year, and next year, it’ll be more than that... They [the Texas legislature] were going to kill Robin Hood, remember? He’s still alive,” chuckled Norris.

The 2004 bond issue created a virtually new Comstock School that Norris delights in showing off on visitor tours. Highlights include sparkling new classrooms, science laboratories, a special education classroom separated from the nurses station only by a handicapped-accessible bathroom, computer labs with 20 computers, and a “distance learning” lab for students working on dual high school/college credits.

Athletes and spectators enjoy a freshly restored, “like new” gymnasium, with spiffy dressing rooms for boys and girls. Brilliant halogen lighting overhead and a glassy painted-and-varnished floor underfoot complete the image of a school serious about sports. Legendary roundballer Bill Russell’s motto reminds players in a dressing room, “The game is on the schedule. We have to play it. We might as well win it.”

Norris reserves special pride for restrooms scattered throughout campus buildings, in contrast to the paltry, single, line-forming pair extant prior to bond issue construction. “I’m so proud of all these bathrooms I can hardly stand it!” he said, nearly dancing, arms outstretched.

Norris is nearly as satisfied with the school’s new state-of-the-art kitchen, adjacent cafeteria and auditorium. “See? There’s no deep fat fryer. There’s too much obesity in schools everywhere, so now everything here is grilled, baked or steamed.”

Physical amenities notwithstanding, Norris keeps civility and moral behavior high on the list of assets the school may boast, knowing that he can reinforce them by example, but only the students themselves can practice such personal code.

A “transfer committee” scrutinizes each student application from outside the district, and members look for three traits. “Well, our criteria are discipline, attendance, and to some extent academics,” Norris said.

“You know, we want to offer a non-threatening environment for education. Because, in a small school, a kid can participate in everything ... everything, everything,” Norris explained.

A dress code, of sorts, is enforced, but might seem absurdly restrictive in urban schools. Halter tops, muscle shirts, baggy pants, and flip-flops are just not the issue. At Comstock, Norris looks for ball caps and western hats. “They’re just not allowed to be worn inside the buildings,” he said softly.

Norris gets things off on the right foot each year. “When school starts, I go to every classroom, I introduce myself, and I shake hands with every kid, and I want every kid to be able to look at me, just as we’re looking at each other right now, and shake their hand. And if it’s just an ol’ rag, ‘Put some grip in that!’, I’ll tell ‘em.

“We’ve kind of lost a generation of parents in church, and I think we’ve kind of lost a generation of parents as far as manners, and some of the other things that somebody as old as I am holds very dear. Does that make sense? And it’s not the kids fault. They just haven’t been taught.”

So Norris clearly teaches beyond classroom walls and between class-changing bells. “The barometer is that if I didn’t want my kid in that school, then the school is not worth keeping,” Norris said.

Norris grew up in Aspermont, Texas. “That’s up in Stonewall County, north of Abilene,” he explained. He came here following a stint as superintendent in Sanderson, and still maintains ties in Terrell County.

“When I started teaching, the Russians had just put up Sputnik, and I was a science teacher in Eastland, Texas. It was in 1963, when Kennedy was assassinated, too,” Norris said.

As with many Americans and “Baby Boomers,” Norris plans to retire soon, but vows to never quit working. “On the day I die, I want to have worked a full day ... I truly believe that work is so therapeutic.”

For now, that therapy comes largely from his young charges at Comstock School. Norris struggled to explain, “Oh, I hate the summers. You know the summers are the hardest time in the world for the schools...But when those kids start drifting in the first day, just to see and be around those kids ... You know, that’s what I’ve been. I’m an educator.”