The New York Sun has a piece today about successful NYC Public School turnarounds, including our own P.S. 8:

New York Sun: City Schools Try to Replicate a Successful Formula: A few years ago, P.S. 8 was slated for closure until a new administration drew in parents from the surrounding brownstones and from the nearby housing project to come on Saturdays and help clean up and paint the dusty, cluttered classrooms. Then, they sat them down to discuss fund raising and plans for restructuring the curriculum.

"We wanted to have some say," a former PTA president at P.S. 8, Precious Jones-Walker, who now serves as the school's parent coordinator, said. The school has since taken off, becoming one of the best in its district.

The director of school support in the Department of Education's Office of Parent Engagement, Olivia Ellis, a former administrator at P.S. 8, is a firm believer in parental involvement as a catalyst for improving schools.

"It's a matter of opening the doors and letting them come in and get involved," Ms. Ellis said. "I know it can only work if parents are a part of it."

Since the December 13th accident that took the life of Brooklyn Law School professor Sara Robbins, we have heard from people who knew her, worked with her and loved her. This outpouring is reflected in comments made on the initial BHB post regarding the tragedy.  Remarks from our readers ran the gamut from outrage regarding rampant reckless driving on our streets to more personal accounts of from Ms. Robbins' co-workers. 

H.C. Singh, who worked for Ms. Robbins, commented that she was a "good hearted person, very good boss, hardworking, intelligent and respected in the educational, legal and professional librarian’s community."

Rochelle commented, "I have known Sara Robbins for nearly 30 years. She was a kind and gentle person who would never hurt anyone. I am still in a state of shock and I will miss her very much. My thoughts and prayers are with her family."

The overwhelming consensus from our readers and in the Heights, is that this accident has struck everyone as profoundly sad, regardless of whether or not they knew Ms. Robbins.

"Even people who did not know the victim found themselves unexpectedly shaken," writes Jake Mooney in this week's Sunday New York Times. His piece, A Death in the Family, reports on the accident's impact on the neighborhood.

New York Times: A Death in the Family: “It was very disturbing to everybody, because nobody knew who it was; there was no information given out, of course,” Lesley Waters, a manager at the Ann Taylor Loft store on the corner, recalled last week, standing near a big picture window that faced the scene. “Everybody was just wondering who it was, because they knew they would know them.”

In the absence of concrete information, rumors flew. The victim, one account had it, was a nanny who had been walking with a child. According to other versions, the victim was a woman in a wheelchair, or perhaps someone who worked at the Starbucks on Montague Street, a few steps away.

The reality filtered out as the day went on. Ms. Robbins ran the library at Brooklyn Law School, on Joralemon Street. She had family in Ohio and lived by herself at 2 Pierrepont Street, near the Brooklyn Heights Promenade. She died three blocks from where she lived, five blocks from where she worked.

Days later, her next-door neighbor on the building’s sixth floor, Amabilia Guzman, pointed to a copy of the weekly Brooklyn Heights Courier, which had a large portrait of Ms. Robbins on the cover. “It’s good to remember her the way she was, smiling all the time,” Ms. Guzman said.

Our pals at FDNY Engine Company 205 Ladder Company 118, "Fire Under the Bridge" on Middagh Street are part of an article in today's New York Times about holiday decorations at local firehouses.  

New York Times: Between Blazes Firefighters Don Decorating Hats: Take Engine Company 205 Ladder Company 118 in Brooklyn Heights on a quiet block of Middagh Street. Once a year, two wooden soldiers are mounted on either side of the upstairs window, lights frame the big garage door, and eight red ribbons on a wreath — mounted on the house — memorialize the eight firefighters from the house who died at the World Trade Center site on Sept. 11, 2001.

“I was busting guys’ chops to get it done,” said Firefighter Gerard Bellettiere, 38, who is the de facto decoration boss at the firehouse. “We bought new sets of rope lights so it would seem a little brighter.”

Inside, firefighters had strung lights across the ceiling by walking atop the fire trucks. The tree has no tinsel, just lights and some ornaments. “Keep it simple,” said Firefighter Edward Schafer, 43. “In case it gets knocked over.”

Outside, off to the side of the building, what’s that at the end of the alley? Is that … Santa? In a dark alley? Firefighter Bellettiere and his colleagues used to keep an inflated, human-size Homer Simpson-dressed-as-Santa doll squarely in front of the firehouse, thinking their neighbors in tony Brooklyn Heights would love it.

They were wrong.

After complaints from residents, the inflatable Homer/Santa was moved inside, on top of a fuel pump, but he kept falling over. “We put him in the alley,” Firefighter Bellettiere said, looking down the forlorn and darkened walkway. “No other way to do it.”

Courier Life reports that the Willowtown Association issued a 12 page history of that section of Brooklyn Heights, an "advisory card" on how to preserve its unique stretch of cobblestones on Joralemon Street and held an election for board of directors at its recent annual meeting. 

Re-elected to one year terms to the Board were, according to the report, Craig Bickerstaff of State Street, president; Bob Stone, also of State Street, vice president; Ben Bankson of Willow Place, secretary; and Jim McDevitt of Columbia Place, treasurer. Also elected were newcomers Linda DeRosa and Andrew Reynolds of Joralemon Street; Judith Francis, Mary Goodman, Joseph Merz and Mary Merz of Willow Place; William Ringler of Columbia Place; and Stephanie Zancolli of State Street.

photo via Ryansouthard on Flickr