Willow Glen Resident
Cover Story
Photograph by Vicki Thompson
Think Big: Willow Glen High School vice principal Al Gallegos stops to chat with student Charlie Findeisen about Charlie's college aspirations. Gallegos likes the fact Charlie's shirt says 'Stanford Football.'
Rams Power
Vice principal has unique approach to discipline
By Eli Segall
Al Gallegos knows Willow Glen intimately. He's grown up in the community, and he is raising his family in his hometown. In fact, Gallegos can't imagine living anywhere else.
For the past three years, Gallegos' Willow Glen roots have fueled his passion to turn Willow Glen High School's image around.
"He's the John Wayne of the school district," says Michael Andrew, who teaches film and English at the school. "I've seen a general harmony among students that's different from the past."
As vice principal of discipline for Willow Glen High School, Gallegos handles the tough situations. He deals with the troublemakers who come from poverty, the ones with juvenile rap sheets, and those who teeter on the edge of flunking out.
But Gallegos, 37, is also a mentor to the school's 1,400 students. He is accessible and visible and always there to listen.
"He helps anyone who wants to be helped," says senior Mario Garate.
Gallegos tutors Mario twice a month after school, something the vice principal is not required to do as an administrator. Many teenagers at the school notice his extra-mile efforts.
"Students really are his best interest," says senior Fellie Hunter. "Some teachers just come to earn their paychecks and go home. He doesn't care about that; he just cares about us."
Mario says since he and Gallegos come from similar backgrounds, he trusts him and feels comfortable talking about anything.
"We talk about family and life," Mario says. "He's been through the same things."
Gallegos, who lives in Willow Glen with his wife, Heather, and their three daughters, says he grew up in a tough section of Willow Glen--the Gardner neighborhood near Bird Avenue and Virginia Street.
"Unless you know what you're dealing with, you can't solve the problem," he says.
Gallegos and his four siblings were the children of Mexican migrant workers. One day at age 13, he accompanied his mother to the Del Monte Cannery, where she worked sorting fruit.
"My mom worked her butt off at the cannery. She was very proud of her job," says Gallegos, who described his mother as the best-dressed worker there. "By bringing me to work, she was telling me, 'Do you want to do what I do, or do you want to get an education?' "
It was a lesson he never forgot.
Gallegos attended Gardner Elementary, Hoover Middle and Lincoln High schools. He was regularly placed into the GATE program and other advanced classes for gifted students. By seventh grade he knew he wanted to become a park ranger, cop or teacher. He never wavered from these goals, and achieved two out of three--a police officer and educator.
He earned a bachelor's degree in natural science and a master's in school administration from San José State University. He taught advanced math for 12 years, working in the Oak Grove School District and at River Glen Elementary School in Willow Glen.
At age 29, while still teaching full-time, "Mr. Gallegos" became "Officer Gallegos" with the San Jose Police Department. To this day he works as a reserve police officer.
Different Approach
His colleagues appreciate Gallegos' fresh perspective.
Mike Reilly, a 20-year faculty member at Willow Glen High School, says Gallegos offers an expertise that was previously lacking at the school. He s referred specifically to Gallegos' ability to determine whether a student is dressing like a favorite hip-hop star, trying to imitate local wannabe gang-bangers, or is in fact someone the school might need to watch more closely.
If he or another faculty member observes behavior that is disconcerting, Gallegos immediately brings the individual into his office for a one-on-one talk. He asks about their schoolwork and home life, trying to learn more.
"I meet with them see what their deal is," he says. "I can't just go out there and start labeling people."
This personal approach to school discipline has borne fruit. San Jose Police Sgt. Michael Montonye, who's worked for seven years as a member of high school campus police, says things are a lot smoother since Gallegos came on board.
"When things pop up, we deal with them right away," Montonye says. "They don't fester or grow larger like they did before."
The evidence is in Gallegos' office.
Gallegos keeps a filing cabinet filled with notes and observations of students he's met with. A select few have gang aspirations, he says. Those individuals wear colors that denote gang pride or affiliation. They are repeat offenders of school policy, which prohibits wearing two articles of same color clothing on the same day.
"In my first year here, there were 52 students with 'colors,'" Gallegos says. "This year, there's 10."
Gallegos' method of meting out discipline is far from typical. The school maintains a zero tolerance policy for certain offenses, such as gang-related fights or carrying a weapon, but for the average infraction, such as skipping class, Gallegos discusses the punishment with the student first.
"I've had occasions where I've been called into his office," admits Jamie Herman, a senior. "We'd talk about it and then come to an agreement over the punishment."
"It helps you understand what you did and why you need to improve," adds Jamie, who signed up this year to work as an administrative assistant to Gallegos.
One 13-year old freshman down the hall from Gallegos' office was working on a vocabulary assignment, which was his punishment for a school infraction.
School Pride
Gallegos is also at the forefront of another longstanding challenge: to bring neighborhood teenagers back to Willow Glen High School.
In the mid-1980s, California courts ruled the state's public schools had to desegregate. San Jose Unified School District had a busing mandate to integrate its white schools.
Willow Glen High School was no exception; a faculty member who requested anonymity estimated more than 50 percent of the school's current student population is bused in.
In response to desegregation, Willow Glen parents either transferred their children out of the neighborhood to Leland, Pioneer and Lincoln high schools, or enrolled their children in private schools. It is a trend that continues to this day.
Gallegos and current Willow Glen High parents and alumni want to reverse that trend.
"I want to help put Willow Glen back on the map," Gallegos says. "In the 1980s, Willow Glen was the premier public school to go to. It was a community, neighborhood school, and I want that again."
To spread the word, he relies on word of mouth. He chats with parents and students wherever he sees them, but he mainly lets students do the talking.
One encounter Gallegos is particularly proud of occurred shortly after school started this year. Gallegos and his children were at Starbucks on the corner of Foxworthy and Plummer avenues when he ran into two Willow Glen High School students. The students were with two friends, both from the neighborhood but attending other high schools. When the two saw Gallegos, they brought their friends over to him and exclaimed, "This is the guy I've been talking about!"
After speaking with Gallegos, one of the two friends "shadowed" for a day and has already transferred to the school; the other has scheduled a tour of the school.
The high school has also turned the corner academically.
Principal Elaine Farace said more than 90 percent of the 2006 graduating class entered a two- or four-year college, a 20 percent increase from 2005. Last year the school almost doubled its growth target for the Academic Performance Index.
"We've created a real college-going culture, and Al has been a big part of that," Farace says.
Still, Gallegos admits, given the school's large minority population, there is a long way to go before each student, and the school, is given a fair shake.
"In the society we live in, people take one look and judge you," says Gallegos. "If I stood on a street corner, wearing a red shirt, cut-off jeans and sneakers, people would say I'm an old-school gangster. They don't know that I'm a police officer with a master's degree.
"I tell the students, image counts. If you look the part and play the part, people will judge a book by its cover," he says.



