Justice High Puts Students in the Courtroom

T. J. Cole is now between bites of a baloney sandwich. "The difference between us and other schools is that we really try hard to take negative labels that these kids have achieved in their academic careers — and in many cases, rightfully so — and make them positive," he says while chewing, answering phone calls, sorting paperwork and dealing with an ever-rotating cast of people peering in his office with a quick question. "Because we believe as part of our philosophy that kids who are given positive, positive, positive as well as higher goals, will try to attain those. So at Justice High, we made the requirement that you have to be accepted into three colleges before graduating, and as of two or three years ago, we make every kid take at least two college-level courses; if you don't pass them, your diploma stays here."

Cole opens a cabinet door to display a stack of diplomas still fresh and crisp in their decorative plastic covers. It's no wonder that kids around here consider him a hardass. After all, it was Cole — T.J. to the students — who implemented "BadNastys," a disciplinary measure involving free weights and calisthenics that particularly unruly students have to engage in right there in his office. But it was also Cole who decided that trusted seniors — seniors who've been through the Justice High system and done well — could issue the same BadNastys to underclassmen they see misbehaving.

And though many kids may resent Cole through much of their time at Justice High, eventually they come around. He's the ballbuster coach who makes you run the bleachers when you swear you're going to puke, the possessed piano teacher who never lets you stop practicing the scales. Looking back, you can't help but appreciate all that person did for you.

"He likes to push you to your full potential," says Dafna Gozani, a former student at Boulder Prep who's now interning/teaching at Justice High while she pursues a law degree. "But it's something you come to be grateful for. I was really screwing up when I came here, and I just remember my first day thinking what an odd feeling it was walking into a courthouse and not having handcuffs on. The dedication and care that my teachers had for me is something I will never forget. I see kids going through the same stuff I went through, and when they're complaining, I just point to all of the students who graduated who come back and visit four, five times a year. Just to say hello. You don't see that at many other high schools."

Lolita Respectsnothing, a senior of Oglala Sioux descent who's the girls' basketball captain at Justice High, finally found a home at this school as well. Lolita, who never met her father, for years moved back and forth between living with her mother — when her mother wasn't in trouble with the law — and spending time with relatives "on the res" in South Dakota. That life created huge gaps in Lolita's education: She estimates she's been in ten different schools, five different high schools alone. Finally, when a caseworker sent her to live in a group home in north Boulder, she landed at Justice High School — and she says she's never liked a school better. "At other schools, the classes were too big," she says. "Everyone knows everyone here; everyone is really close. It wasn't as easy for me to fall through the cracks and not pay attention or goof off. This is the only school I've found that actually keeps me in school, the only school I've found that I actually want to be at."

Her Sioux last name, which actually means "Fears Nothing," was incorrectly translated years ago, but the breakout basketball star admits it has a nice ring when an announcer calls out, "Respectsnothing with the rebound! Respectsnothing with the three!"

Lolita expects to graduate this spring and hopes to pursue studies in sports management or sports medicine, probably at Fort Lewis College in Durango. And even though she now lives in Denver with her boyfriend, she still manages to make it to class. Her principal drives her there every morning.

"I think why Justice High works is because every kid, no matter how much they like or don't like us, at the end of the day knows we truly care, from the bottom of our toes to the tops of our heads," says Cole, the principal and chauffeur. "We're lucky to have the incredible staff we do. People say, 'Can you duplicate this in San Francisco? Can you duplicate this in Ohio? And I support it and will do whatever I can to assist, but the one thing I can't re-create is the energy, the drive and compassion of the individuals working here with the kids."