Set in Pittsburgh, the narrative centers on two mothers so appalled by the inner-city educational system that is leaving their children sub-literate that they set out to change it by closing down their children’s elementary school and starting one of their own. This is perfectly legal, but doesn’t begin to cover the obstacles mounted by administrators, union officials, school boards and teachers terrified of losing their pensions, not to mention the powerful and implacable bureaucracy that makes progress impossible. Maggie Gyllenhaal plays Jamie Fitzpatrick, a poor but spunky working-class mom who juggles three jobs to keep her dyslexic eight-year-old daughter in a school that neglects her needs. Viola Davis is Nona Alberts, a dedicated teacher at the same school, whose son has learning challenges of his own that require home tutoring. These children face inadequate teachers, overcrowded conditions and the kind of institutional apathy that passes students yearly who cannot read or write, just to get rid of them. Seizing on the new fail-safe laws that entitle disgruntled parents to turn the schools around, Jamie decides to bite the bullet and try. The process is designed for failure. First she has to rally 50 percent of the parents and teachers, then she must plow through miles of red tape, make appointments to petition the school board and plead her case—if she’s lucky enough to get a hearing. Against all odds, the reluctant Nona and the indefatigable Jamie build their case like a bridge, screwing in one bolt at a time. Printing flyers, staging rallies, baking cookies, ringing doorbells, cornering parents in the streets and parking lots, they are fueled by passion, and their never-say-quit idealism rubs off on others. Jamie begins as a concerned parent who wants to get her kid into a better school but can’t afford to move and meets nothing but rejection from the school principal—and she ends up a militant activist who “won’t back down.” In the process, the two women and the teachers and parents they convert to their cause are taught a few lessons themselves—about friendship, commitment, humanity and pride. If you don’t mind a few sentimental cobbles, there is still the dual magic of Maggie Gyllenhaal and Viola Davis, two stars who know a thing or two about conveying courage on the screen.

This is Norma Rae with chalk and erasers in place of a sewing machine, except for one major difference—this time it’s the unions that stand in the way of progress. With that in mind, it’s little surprise that political conservatives at the press screening I attended booed loudly. For the most part, the direction by Daniel Barnz is clear and substantial, and the screenplay, by the director and Brin Hill, is meticulously researched and stumble-free. As a message picture, its heart is in the right place. Too bad it doesn’t always manage to rise above a swirl of predictable Hollywood clichés. Jamie’s crusade pays off and lands her a boyfriend in the bargain, the children overcome their learning disabilities in record time, and the ogres on the school board reverse their opposition in a victory for the good guys that is too good to be true. And forgive my cynicism, but I had a hard time finding it credible when the conniving union representative (Holly Hunter) who threatens to destroy the women’s idealism applauds her own union’s defeat, even though it costs her her job. Oh well, she says. She can always go back to teaching.

rreed@observer.com

WON’T BACK DOWN

Running Time 120 minutes

Written by Brin Hill and Daniel Barnz

Directed by Daniel Barnz

Starring Viola Davis, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Holly Hunter

3/4

The battle to make the teacher ratings public was long and difficult, thanks to the predictable efforts of the United Federation of Teachers, which devoted a portion of its vast resources and energy to keeping the ratings away from the prying eyes of parents and taxpayers. The UFT was not particularly gracious in defeat—it never is. Union head Michael Mulgrew said the city’s Department of Education should “be ashamed of itself.” Shame, it should be noted, is not a characteristic we associate with the UFT.

The ratings are not perfect. The information is old—the ratings cover the academic years of 2007-08, 2008-09 and 2009-10—and about 23 percent of the teachers who were evaluated no longer are in the classroom.

Critics point out that the ratings—which were based on student performance in standardized tests—were never intended to become public. Former Schools Chancellor Joel Klein initiated the data reports as a management tool within the Department of Education. But the study was, after all, carried out with taxpayer funds and so was subject to public review.

Kudos to news organizations, including the New York Post and The New York Times, that demanded copies of the reports. The UFT fought a battle in the courts for nearly 18 months to prevent the information from going public, but, fortunately, accountability and transparency carried the day.

Schools Chancellor Dennis Walcott echoed the argument of some critics when he reminded teachers and principals that the data reports were never intended for public consumption. Faced with the inevitable, however, Mr. Walcott rightly noted that the reports cannot and should not be used “in isolation.” That is absolutely true—the full measure of a teacher’s performance cannot be gauged by standardized test scores alone.

All the more reason for a truly robust and comprehensive system to evaluate teachers and principals alike. The union has to realize, after so many defeats in the court of public opinion, that the status quo is unacceptable. Public education—in New York City and elsewhere—simply cannot remain firmly entrenched in the 20^th century.

New York, it should be noted, is not the only city to make this information available to the public. Teacher ratings in Los Angeles were published in the Los Angeles Times last year—against the local union’s wishes.

It is not too much to demand that a vast, publicly funded institution be accountable to the public at large. This is the new normal in public education. And that’s a good thing.