A small group of determined Manual High School students starts each day by studying calculus in room 306. It may be the most challenging course in a school where failure is common, but some students — with the help of dedicated teachers — push themselves to excel.

The class is taught, as it has been for years, by an idealistic veteran named Connie Johnston. The room is dotted with students who have found ways to push themselves and to grab help wherever they can. Johnston calls it “the best class we have at Manual.” She’s probably right.

In a school where apathy often reigns, it doesn’t dare walk into Johnston’s calculus class. In the first-period class, engaged students diligently work out math equations at the front of the room. They also encourage one another, working together to conquer complicated problems.

MANUAL PROJECT PAGE: Read all of Matt Tully’s columns about the school, and listen to the key figures – the principal, school policeman, students and more – discuss their challenges.

In a search for hope at Manual, this is a good place to find it. Students such as Susan Lynn, who plans to go to Purdue and hopes to work at NASA one day, understand that a good education is crucial to their future.

“You’re not going to work for NASA with just a high school diploma,” Susan told me.

“You’re not going to work anywhere good with just a high school diploma,” classmate Tricia Tharpe added.

It’s an inspiring class. But there is a problem, and it’s a big one. Few Manual students make it this far. This is the only calculus class the school of about 950 students offers, and it’s mostly empty.

It’s in strong contrast to the overcrowded second-period class that follows — the one for students who have repeatedly flunked algebra.

At Manual, calculus is for the few. Those few made it here by doubling up as sophomores — taking both geometry and Algebra 2 that year.

“We’re stubborn,” Jeff Bledsoe, an 18-year-old senior, said when I asked why he and the others had stuck with math.

“It just didn’t seem like there was any other option,” said his classmate Chris Rhynearson. “Other than skate and just get by.”

“Yeah, we’ve had enough friends who do that,” Jeff added. “Well, they’re ex-friends.”

In a school where 68 percent of the student body failed state standardized tests last year, you can count on your fingers the number of students in this year’s senior class who made it to calculus.

Altogether, including one student who took it as a junior, only nine of next year’s graduates will have calculus on their transcripts.

That’s nine out of 490 students who arrived at Manual as freshmen in 2006. That’s nine out of the 151 who made it to their senior year.

It’s another sign of the troubles facing Indianapolis Public Schools and districts like it across the country. Too many students drop out. Too many of those who do graduate fail to gain an education that prepares them to compete with students from suburban districts. Too many good students struggle to learn in crowded, sometimes rowdy classrooms. And too often, the expectations are low.

Johnston and other teachers say the school is on track to lose its only calculus class in two years because sophomores aren’t being pushed to take the classes needed to get there.

The math program suffers because teachers feel tremendous pressure to pass students who perform poorly, meaning many students move on from lower-level classes without the skills to succeed at the next level.

“We really curve our grades because if we don’t pass enough kids, we’re written up for it,” Johnston said. “We’re not allowed to hold students accountable for not doing the work.”

Even in calculus, many students struggle. Before Johnston adjusted her first-quarter grades for the curve, the highest mark in the class was a C. Several students say they have struggled with math since spending time in classes with lackluster teachers in earlier years.

“I didn’t learn anything in Algebra 2 my sophomore year,” Susan Lynn said. “We were on our own. So I understand the calculus part, but I still struggle with the algebra.”

Every School Board member, IPS administrator and teachers union official should listen to Susan’s words. Too many good teachers work within IPS to tolerate the bad ones.

Still, it isn’t a surprise that this group of students has overcome classroom struggles. Some have overcome obstacles in their personal lives so serious that they put most people’s problems in sharp perspective.

One student confided to me about a parent’s alcoholism; another told of being separated from a parent by Child Protective Services years ago. A third, Andrea Stanarevic, was born in Serbia and moved to Indianapolis as a third-grader. She didn’t speak English when she arrived. But with a constant push from her parents, something that is often missing at Manual, she is challenging Susan for the title of valedictorian.

Several students said their dedication to school comes from watching their parents struggle financially. They’ve grown used to hearing Johnston offer inspiration with a favorite phrase — “the more math you take, the more money you’ll make.”

The students have different goals. But many have one thing in common: They have been in other classes taught by Johnston and say that set them on the path to calculus. Chris received a helpful push when Johnston noticed he was a hard worker as a freshman.

“This was Ms. J’s goal for me from the beginning,” he said. “She kept saying, ’We’re going to get you through, all the way to calculus.’ That’s how I got to where I am now.”

Another student told me about spending his middle-school years drinking alcohol and smoking pot. When I asked why he stopped, he pointed toward his teacher.

“Because of her,” he said. "She got me to stop. That woman right there is everything. She gave me the support I never got anywhere else. She told me what I was doing was wrong. Every day. Five days a week. You get to the point where you don’t want to hear it anymore and you have to say, ‘I see your point.’ "

Johnston smiled and looked embarrassed every time I asked her about her students’ praise. Time and again she urged me to “write about the kids,” about their ability to persevere in a school where many students give up. My column, she said, should be about the students.

She’s right. But that doesn’t mean a great teacher isn’t a big part of the story.

Johnston, 58, arrived at Manual 19 years ago after taking part in a volunteer school mentoring program. She gave up a much better-paying job writing computer software to become a teacher because she loved being in the classroom and working with students. She’s invested in the lives of her students ever since.

“Ms. Johnston, can you stay after school to help me tonight?” Susan asked Thursday morning.

“All right, we can stay tonight,” Johnston said.

The answer wasn’t a surprise. She had done the same thing the day before and many other days this year. After class, I asked her why she gave up her free time.

She answered with a question.

“How can I say no?”