Scout and her classmates each had the opportunity to ask a single question of Mr. LeBron James, as he was affectionately known within the halls of the I Promise School in Akron, Ohio. Although countless curiosities surely flew through their minds, Scout was sure of what she would ask him: “Can I touch the ceiling?”

James, the muscular 6-foot-9 power forward of the Los Angeles Lakers, laughed. A man of his word, he scooped up Scout and lifted her to the ceiling tiles above.

For those closely watching the progress of James’ I Promise School, the question remains: Can he lift them all? When IPS first opened its doors in 2018, the teachers and staff felt ready to change the world. Through a lottery system, the school would become home to 240 third and fourth graders within the Akron Public School System, all of whom ranked in the bottom 25th percentile in the state in reading. On that first day, everyone – teachers, staff, students and parents – made a promise to one another. Students promised to finish school; teachers promised to love their students, families and one another; and parents promised to support their child in reaching their dreams.

This group of dreamers came together not only to fulfill these promises to one another and to themselves, but to create a new precedent within the world of public education – a goal set by many, but achieved by few. Through four years of asking questions about education at The Tylt, the struggle to get it right in America is clear: The achievement gap among underserved communities persists. The I Promise School, a joint venture between the Akron Public School System and the LeBron James Family Foundation, plans to reverse this paradigm.

When I first spoke with Michele Campbell, the Executive Director of the LJFF, it was a bright spring day both in Atlanta – my work-from-home location – and Akron, where Campbell was busy organizing the delivery of meals to students’ families a few weeks into the coronavirus stay-at-home orders. Akron public schools began virtual learning only a few days prior to our conversation. The staff at I Promise did not miss a beat, delivering taco Tuesday dinners to the doorstep of each student’s family.

Campbell recalled the moment when the idea for the I Promise School first sparked: “I remember saying to [James], ‘Well, I believe if we’re ever going to make a difference [in graduation rates], we need to open our own school so everyone at that school understands the philosophies and the foundation and what we’re trying to do,’ and he literally looked at me and said, ‘Then why aren’t you doing that? What are we waiting for?’”

Thus began a frenzy of what Campbell says is the hardest work she’s done in her life. Years later, the I Promise School welcomed its new family with a clear aim: to become a “nationally recognized model of urban and public school excellence.” Those inside the I Promise School know this excellence comes down to much more than the passing down of knowledge from teacher to student. As Scout’s grandmother, Kathleen Franick, put it in a separate phone conversation, “They address the whole person, not just one part of it labeled ‘education.’”

The “wraparound approach” featured in the I Promise School raises many questions about how public education ought to function. Can, and should, public schools act as social organizers within their communities?

The I Promise School firmly believes they should, and it does so on a daily basis. According to The Tylt’s data, many young people are leaning in the same direction. When asked if public schools should provide free lunches for students, 95 percent of people agreed, yes, they should. When asked if schools should provide things like free tampons or condoms to students, 97 and 85 percent voted yes once again, respectively.

A food bank, a laundry room, a Family Resource Center and more are all available to families that are part of the I Promise School. Students receive free uniforms, breakfast and lunch every day, and, eventually, tuition to the University of Akron. If there is a need a student, staff member or family member has, every effort is made to fulfill it. But to call these services amenities would be a disservice to the school. The motto for IPS is simple: “Everything is earned. Nothing is given.” These services are not offered as charity but as necessities for learning.

“With the resources that LeBron has at the I Promise School, they helped me get a lawyer to move into a better house for my kids. [My kids] are more happy, they’re comfortable,” Tana, the mother of Nate, a fourth-grader at I Promise, shared with me. “The school is awesome. It’s not like it’s just my son; they helped me and my family, too.”

This holistic approach to education is in the fabric of I Promise. T-shirts, walls and jackets all have the words “WE ARE FAMILY” printed in bold, “just-do-it” style letters. That means parents, grandparents, mentors, siblings, cousins and more: They all share a piece of the promise. As Nate’s mother explained, her son’s growth academically and behaviorally is infectious: “It spreads through the whole family.”

The students at I Promise come from a variety of backgrounds. Many have already experienced extreme trauma just eight or nine years into life. Some are caretakers for sick parents, others have lost family members to violence, and a few have witnessed relatives in jail. Each student walks the hall with their own story – and scars.

In the Quibi docuseries, “I PROMISE,” Nate shared a jarring memory with the filmmakers: A SWAT team swarmed his uncle’s house looking for drugs; he was there. In a separate story, Nate described how his father was murdered. He spoke matter-of-factly: “They stabbed him, they shot him and ran him over.”

With experiences like these in mind, it’s not hard to imagine why feeling safe at school is a crucial bridge to learning. As Angel Whorton, one of the I Promise School intervention specialists, explained: “I had a student who was absolutely homeless. They didn’t have a place to go.”

“I would contact the parent as much as I could through the day,” Whorton continued, “but while I’m teaching, we have the Family Resource Center to go and contact the parent and get them on a plan to see the needs that they have.”

The school holds no false notions about fixing all problems students encounter. Whorton admits having patience is a real challenge. “You do everything you can, and you want [the change] to happen immediately, but we know it can’t.” Nevertheless, IPS is guided by the belief that students’ lives outside of school do not remain outside of school. Learners bring their fears, anxieties and celebrations with them to class every day. It’s the goal of Whorton and other professionals at I Promise to help students work out of what they call “trauma brain” and into the “learning brain.”