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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Bildung
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
Your Guide to Creating Equitable Schools If we hope to interrupt educational inequities and create schools in which every child thrives, we must open our hearts to purposeful conversation and hone our skills to make those conversations effective. With characteristic honesty and wisdom, Elena Aguilar inspires us to commit to transforming our classrooms, lays bare the hidden obstacles to equity, and helps us see how to overcome these obstacles, one conversation at a time. Coaching for Equity is packed with the resources necessary to implement Transformational Coaching in any organization. In addition to an updated coaching framework and corresponding rubrics, a comprehensive set of coaching tools puts success in every coach's hands. Extensive personal narratives demonstrate what Coaching for Equity looks like and help us see how we can make every conversation count towards building a more just and equitable world. Coaching for Equity covers critical topics in the larger conversation about racial equity, and helps readers develop the knowledge, dispositions and skills to be able to: * Talk productively about race, * Build trust to support vulnerability, * Unpack mental models and change someone's mind, * Observe classrooms and collect data to support equitable outcomes, * Inspire others and deepen commitment, * Evaluate and celebrate growth. Perfect for teachers, teacher leaders, coaches and administrators, Coaching for Equity offers extensive strategies for talking about race, power, and systems of oppression. In framing the rationale for transformational conversations, Coaching for Equity gives us the context we need to enter into this work. In laying out the strategies, tools and models for critical conversations, it gives us the way forward. Comprehensive, concrete, and deeply human, Coaching for Equity is the guide for those who choose to accept responsibility for interrupting inequities in schools. It is for all educators who know there is a better way.
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Table of Contents
COVER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INTRODUCTION
A Couple of Notes
On Bridge-Building
Defining Equity
What Is in This Book
Who You Are—The Readers
Who I Am—The Author
How to Get the Most from this Book
Before You Go …
Interlude: Compassion
CHAPTER 1:
Transformational Coaching: A Model for Change
Structures to Span Chasms
Assumptions behind Transformational Coaching
Transformational Coaching
The Three Components of Transformational Coaching
The Four Phases of Transformational Coaching
The Five Principles of Transformational Coaching
Before You Go …
Interlude: Curiosity
CHAPTER 2:
Jumping into Coaching for Equity
Building Relationships and Surfacing Strengths
Low Expectations and a Deficit Mindset
The Undulating Landscape of Emotions
Turning Inward
A Conversation about Crying
“Do You Think I'm Racist?”
Before You Go …
Interlude: Connection
CHAPTER 3:
How to Understand Race, Racism, and White Supremacy
What Is White Supremacy?
What Is Racism?
How Racism Manifests in Schools
The Power of Words and the Language of Oppression
It's Time to Take Action
Before You Go …
Interlude: Courage
CHAPTER 4:
How to Talk About Race
Recognizing What Is and What Could Be
Attending to Myself
A Time of Growth
The Path to Racial Healing
Why Calling People Out Doesn't Work
Ten Ways to Respond to the Question, “Am I Racist?”
Before You Go …
Interlude: Purpose
CHAPTER 5:
What You Need to Know about Adult Learners
The Gaps between Current Ability and Desired Ability
How to Sequence Adult Learning
The Coach as Learner
Before You Go …
Interlude: Compassion
CHAPTER 6:
How to Change Someone's Mind
Addressing Beliefs and Behavior at the Same Time
Six Conditions in Which Beliefs Change
How to Build Trust
What to Say When You Hear Racist Comments
For People of Color Doing this Work
Before You Go …
Interlude: Curiosity
CHAPTER 7:
What You Need to Know about Emotions
Toward an Appreciation of Emotions
Exploring and Embracing Our Needs
Responding to Resistance
The Connection between Emotions and Justice
Looking at Emotions through an Identity Lens
Before You Go …
Interlude: Connection
CHAPTER 8:
What You Need to Know about Identity
The Social Construction of Identity
How to Facilitate Reflection
Addressing Racial Differences
Before You Go …
Interlude: Courage
CHAPTER 9:
Surfacing Current Reality
A Prequel
Beginning a Coaching Relationship
Planning a Coaching Conversation
A First Classroom Visit
Before You Go …
Interlude: Purpose
CHAPTER 10:
Recognizing Impact
Debriefing an Observation
A Pause to Look Inward
Fostering Patience
Analyzing and Interpreting Data
Coaching a Way of Being: The Legacy Question
Determining Next Steps
When to Talk about Race
Before You Go …
Interlude: Compassion
CHAPTER 11:
Exploring Emotions
When Anger and Doubt Arise
Gathering Student Experience Data
Debriefing the Data
Confronting Bias
Before You Go …
Interlude: Courage
CHAPTER 12:
Creating New Practices
Developing New Behaviors
Scaffolding Learning for Adults
Data That Reveals Beliefs and Ways of Being
Practice, Practice, Practice
Role-Play Practice
Evidence of Deepening Will and Commitment
The Ups and Downs of Learning
Reflection
Celebrating Growth
Before You Go …
Interlude: Purpose
CONCLUSION
Towards Liberty and Justice for All
Compassionate
Curious
Connected
Courageous
Purposeful
APPENDIX A:
The Phases of Transformational Coaching
Surface: Surface Current Reality
APPENDIX B:
The Equity Rubric
The Rubric
Reflect
APPENDIX C:
Transformational Coaching Rubric (TCR) 2.0
Domain 1: Strategic Design and Planning
Domain 2: Listening
Domain 3: Thinking
Domain 4: Responding
Domain 5: Coach's Beliefs About Self and Client
Domain 6: Coaching for Equity
Domain 7: Coach's Emotional Intelligence
Domain 8: Coach's Dispositions
APPENDIX D:
Advocating for Systems Change
Area 1: Hire and Retain a Diverse Teaching Force
Area 2: Provide Professional Development
Area 3: Integrate Schools
Area 4: Fund Public Schools
APPENDIX E:
The Core Emotions
APPENDIX F:
Resources for Further Learning
History
Race and Racism
Whiteness and White Supremacy
Intersectionality
Pedagogy
Decolonization and Indigeneity
Literature
Nonfiction and Memoirs
On Change, Organizing, and Action
Mindfulness
Films and Television
GLOSSARY
REFERENCES
INDEX
END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT
List of Tables
Introduction
Table 1 Abilities Required to Coach for Equity
Chapter 1
Table 1.1 What Are the Three Bs?
Chapter 3
Table 3.1 The Manifestation of White Supremacy
Chapter 5
Table 5.1 The Gaps Defined
Table 5.2 The Abilities of a Transformational Coach
Chapter 6
Table 6.1 Implications for Action
Table 6.2 Possible Responses to Racist Comments.
Chapter 10
Table 10.1 When Do We Talk about Race?
Chapter 12
Exhibit 12.1 Teacher-to-Student Interaction Tracking Tool
List of Illustrations
Chapter 1
Figure 1.1 The Three Components of Transformational Coaching
Figure 1.2 The Phases of Transformational Coaching
Chapter 2
Figure 2.1 The Phases of Transformational Coaching
Chapter 4
Figure 4.1 The Phases of Transformational Coaching
Chapter 5
Figure 5.1 Mind the Gap
Chapter 6
Figure 6.0 The Ladder of Inference.
Chapter 7
Figure 7.1 Universal human needs.
Chapter 9
Figure 9.1 The Phases of Transformational Coaching.
Chapter 10
Figure 10.1 The Phases of Transformational Coaching.
Chapter 11
Figure 11.1 The Phases of Transformational Coaching.
Chapter 12
Figure 12.1 The Phases of Transformational Coaching
Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
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Coaching for Equity
Conversations that Change Practice
Elena Aguilar
Copyright © 2020 Elena Aguilar. All rights reserved.
Jossey-Bass
A Wiley Imprint
111 River St., Hoboken, NJ 07030
www.josseybass.com
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc., 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, phone +1 978 750 8400, fax +1 978 750 4470, or on the web at www.copyright.com. Requests to the publisher for permission should be addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 111 River Street, Hoboken, NJ 07030, phone +1 201 748 6011, fax +1 201 748 6008, or online at www.wiley.com/go/permissions.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Aguilar, Elena, 1969- author.
Title: Coaching for equity : conversations that change practice / Elena Aguilar.
Description: First edition. | Hoboken, NJ : Jossey-Bass, [2020] | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2020023661 (print) | LCCN 2020023662 (ebook) | ISBN 9781119592273 (paperback) | ISBN 9781119592334 (adobe pdf) | ISBN 9781119592341 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Educational equalization. | Communication in education. | Educational leadership. | Mentoring in education.
Classification: LCC LC213 .A38 2020 (print) | LCC LC213 (ebook) | DDC 379.2/6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020023661
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020023662
Cover Design: Wiley
Cover Image: © Deejpilot/Getty Images
FIRST EDITION
For:
Harriet
Medgar
Paulo Freire
Adelia y Azarías
Yochewet and Tsyvia
Luevinia and George Washington Goodwin
Bessie and Prentis Sr.
Brenda, Rocio, Huber,
and all my former students
Dennis, Sharon, and Hannah
Jeff, Larry, and Louie
and for
Gilbert, my father
Linda, my mother
Stacey, my heart
and Orion, my life
Love is the bridge between you and everything.
RUMI
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elena Aguilar is the author of The Art of Coaching, The Art of Coaching Teams, Onward: Cultivating Emotional Resilience in Educators, The Onward Workbook and The Art of Coaching Workbook. She was a longtime contributor to Edutopia and EdWeek, and frequently publishes articles in Educational Leadership. Elena is the founder and president of Bright Morning Consulting, an educational consulting group that works to transform education. Bright Morning offers in-person and virtual workshops and online courses based on Elena's books. Elena is also a highly sought-after keynote speaker and hosts The Bright Morning Podcast. You can learn more about Bright Morning at http://brightmorningteam.com.
Elena lives in Oakland, California, with her husband and son. She also writes fiction, essays, and memoirs, which you can read on http://elenaaguilar.com. When she's not writing, coaching, or teaching, she enjoys being in nature, reading fiction, making art, and traveling abroad.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Where to start when there are so many people who contributed to this book? Perhaps with Jessie Cordova, who played a critical role in getting this book going; she provided a much-needed kick that catapulted me into writing this. Charlotte Larsen provided vital encouragement at a time when I had spiraled down into self-doubt. Lori Cohen read the first draft and gave me validation that I didn't know I needed and that propelled me onward. laura brewer's repeated offerings of support and her willingness to listen to whatever I needed to express carried me through some rough patches. I'm also grateful to her for her insights into the distinctions between justice and liberation. Finally, some years ago, Laurelin Whitfield helped me organize a messy jumble of ideas into the Transformational Coaching Rubric 2.0 and provided critical support to help me expand my offerings.
We all have moments when someone says or does something that from their perspective might seem minimal or insignificant, but that arrives in precisely the right way, in the right time, and that fills a gaping need. During the course of writing this book, the following people contributed in that way for me: Raiza Lisboa, Angie Brice Thomas, Marika Beck, Shannon Carey, Andrey Castro, Kathy Eisenhower, Lizzie Salzfass, and Chiara Kupiec. I feel shy about thanking them over and over, because they'll say, “It was nothing,” but I am most grateful for their contributions. In addition, Maia Heyck-Merlin's friendship sustained me across significant ups and downs while writing this book. And I am so lucky to have the compassionate guidance of Eloiza Jorge, my coach. Coaches need coaches.
I have the deepest gratitude for my team at Bright Morning: Janet Baird, LesLee Bickford, Rebecca Blackmer, Patrick Britton, Lori Cohen, Noelle Apostol Colin, Jessie Cordova, and Debbie Daly. They are a phenomenally committed, thoughtful, creative group of people, and they're a lot of fun: I'm forever grateful for the laughter in a game of Telestrations with them. Their commitment to our mission and ability to lean on each other allowed me to have long periods of focused writing time for this book—a luxury I've never had. I finished this manuscript in mid-March 2020, as the coronavirus changed our world. I wouldn't have finished this book on time had my team not been supremely agile and creative. This group of people affirms my belief every day that we can transform our schools and organizations.
The following friends and colleagues gave me invaluable feedback on drafts of this book: Michele Reinhart, Erin Davis, Lindsey Dixon, laura brewer, Jessie Cordova, and Lori Cohen. Each of these readers offered insight and comments that made this book so much better than what it would have been without their feedback; they challenged and pushed me, shared their own experiences and reflections, and offered encouragement and nudges. Lori also provided much needed support in the final stage on the recommended readings, references, and more. Caitlin Schwarzman read the chapters of this book over and over, thinking about everything from the big ideas and graphic representations to the commas and adverbs. She's provided this kind of content-editing on three of my books now, and I'm endlessly grateful for her fearless feedback.
My dear friend and colleague, Carol Owala, contributed to this book in a multitude of ways. She is my dada, a word that means sister in Swahili—and having never had a sister, I'm learning that this means endless encouragement and boundaryless love. She is also my colleague, my comrade, in the larger effort to transform our world, and I am a better educator and leader because of what I've learned from her. I'm forever grateful that our paths crossed and for the joy and beauty she's brought into my life.
I couldn't ask for anything more from Amy Fandrei, Pete Gaughan, and Mackenzie Thompson, the amazing team at Jossey-Bass. I am grateful for their trust, professionalism, and support of me at every step of the writing process.
The following educators have taught me a tremendous amount specifically around how to build equitable schools: Elia Bustamante, Cheryl Lana, Javier Cabra, Tina Hernandez, Larissa Adam, Angela Parker, Michael Scott, Steve Sexton, Yanira Canizalez, Drea Beale, Alex Creer Khan, and Crystal Land. Your vulnerability, courage, and commitment to children and to racial equity continue to inspire me and I'm immeasurably grateful to have worked with you. And also to “Khai” and “Stephanie” and all the other educators I've coached whose identity I won't reveal: I have only gratitude. You were my teachers.
On the home front: my father, Gilbert, and my aunt, Jeanne, continue to support me with unconditional love. My mother's legacy and teachings are elemental to who I am and to what I create: she raised me amid a joyful, diverse community that was committed to justice. Although my mother passed away in 2000, she has influenced every day of my life and every word I've written. My son, Orion, reminds me that every child deserves to be seen for who they truly are. It has been the greatest joy of my life to watch him become the person he wants to be.
I have adored my husband, Stacey Goodman, since 1997, but his support on this book further deepened my appreciation for him. He read every chapter with refined attention to detail, tone, structure, organization, and anecdotes. Day after day, and month after month, he helped me sort through the morass of ideas and emotions that arose in the process of writing this book. He challenged me when I swerved from my commitment to curiosity and compassion, and he insisted that I keep my eyes on the prize of liberation. He is a tremendously compassionate and wise person with a remarkable moral integrity. He is an inspiration to me to live a life of beauty and kindness.
INTRODUCTION
Jabari was the first student I covertly followed as part of a project to better understand the inequities at the middle school where I was a coach. Our student achievement data, particularly for African American students, had raised red flags in our district and our school's leaders were asked to do something about it. At our Instructional Leadership Team (ILT) meeting, I mused over what we could learn by shadowing a student for a day. Jabari was nominated as a candidate for this inquiry because he was a “pretty good kid.” We wanted to understand the experience of average students to start with—not the outliers or those who were really struggling, but the average kids—who should have been doing much better than they were.
I lurked outside our school on a chilly January morning, and when I saw Jabari's mom drop him off, I commenced my project. Wearing jeans and a fleece, carrying a backpack, and only about 5 feet tall, I easily blended in with students. I don't think Jabari ever noticed that I was following him as he went to his classes and lunch, and then got on the city bus after dismissal. What I observed that day will never leave me.
Using the Teacher-to-Student Interaction Tracker (which you'll find in Chapter 11), I noted every exchange an adult had with Jabari. Of the interactions that I noted, 68 percent were in the negative category, 20 percent were neutral, and 12 percent were positive. Here's a sample of what I heard (devoid of tone of voice, but the words alone are revealing):
“Take your hoodie off, young man.”
“Hands by your side as you walk these halls.”
“Sit up straight, please.”
“Two minutes is enough time for you to take out your math book.”
“I asked for an inside voice.”
“Hoodie down.”
“We walk in these halls.”
“Your eyes should be tracking me.”
The overwhelming majority of comments that were made to Jabari by an adult focused on his body and behavior. Jabari didn't seem bothered by the comments—he often did what he was asked, although when the dean told him to walk in the halls, he said, “I am!” (which he was). The dean then responded with, “And don't talk back to me, young man, or you'll be in the office.” Jabari just rolled his eyes and kept walking. Of the 14 different adults who interacted with Jabari that day, only one expressed care: “Nice to see you today, Jabari,” she said. Very little was said about his thinking, writing, reading, or anything related to his academics. He was never called on or praised. By the end of the day, I was on the verge of attacking the next adult who made a critical, unkind comment to Jabari.
At the next ILT meeting, I presented the transcript of what I'd heard. Team members were surprised and defensive. Some tried to dismiss the data with statements like: “This was just one day. It's not representative of what our students experience.” I pushed back and argued that even if it was “just one day,” it was problematic, and I asked how much data like this I'd need to collect before we accepted that the culture at our school was unwelcoming and hostile to kids. One teacher felt like this data validated what staff had been asked to do when students were walking in the halls. “I thought we were supposed to say these kinds of things to kids,” she said. I got frustrated and accused everyone of perpetuating racism and contributing to the high dropout rates in our district. “No wonder black boys hate school,” I said. I wish I'd had more refined communication skills to share what I'd observed.
A couple years later, in 2012, I was coaching at another school where staff was concerned by the slow academic progress of English Language Learners. I proposed that I shadow a student, and when the staff agreed to let me do this, I followed Marilu for 3 days. Marilu had immigrated from Mexico a few years earlier, and although she was chatty outside of class, she was a quiet student. After observing Marilu for 3 days, I recorded only two interactions on the Teacher-to-Student Interaction Tool. Marilu had been addressed twice: “Good morning, take a seat”; and “You can put that [homework] right there.” More alarming, however, was the fact that while she was in class, she had not spoken at all, not even once—not to another student and not to a teacher. Not once in 3 days. There were a few times when teachers asked students to engage in an activity with others when they were supposed to speak—but each time, Marilu had opted out, and no one had held her accountable. It was no surprise that her test scores for spoken English were low and that she was failing or barely passing most of her classes.
When I debriefed this data with the English Department chair, who had brought this concern to me, I had more refined coaching skills than what I'd had at the previous school, having participated in some coaching professional development and having reflected a great deal on myself as a coach. I facilitated a reflection into the root causes of what we were seeing in Marilu's data, of broader trends across the school for the achievement of English Language Learners, and of possible next steps. The English Department chair (who was one of Marilu's teachers) was devastated by the data and her own complicity. Although she was a relatively new teacher (in her third year) and led a department with strong personalities, we came up with some action steps that would, within a couple of years, result in significant changes in the experiences and outcomes for English Language Learners. The Leadership Team in this school adopted the practice of shadowing kids and employed it as a schoolwide practice to gain insight into the experiences of several groups of students who were struggling academically and socially.
There were key differences between these two inquiry explorations. First, the conditions for learning—both for adults and kids—in the two schools were significantly different. In the first, where I shadowed Jabari, the staff was far from being able to engage in a conversation about equity in a meaningful way. This doesn't mean that they couldn't—but at that point, I didn't scaffold us into a conversation about equity because I didn't know how. This staff had very few conversations about equity or even about their own teaching practices—although they did talk a great deal about student (mis)behavior and their administrators.
In the second school, the staff regularly engaged in conversations about racial equity and their own instructional practices. Finally, my skill set as a coach for equity had developed a great deal, and I could guide the team to reflect on the data I'd collected.
There are three key points that I hope you'll glean from these opening anecdotes:
We can learn a lot by following students. I've facilitated this inquiry experiment across the country, in urban, suburban, and rural schools and in public and private schools with educators who are seeking to better understand the outcomes and experiences for a group of students. Every time, we've learned something new, and something that we can act on. When it comes to interrupting inequities, there are many factors that are outside of our control or perhaps influence as educators—
and
there's a great deal that is within our control, including how we talk to kids every day and what we ask them to do while they're in our classrooms.
Attending to context and conditions is critical as we work to create equitable schools. The better we can understand the context in which teachers and leaders work, the more effective we can be as coaches. Understanding context allows us to meet people where they're at and strategically guide them in a learning journey. We must attend to conditions—it's another domain in which we have a great deal of influence.
Who we are matters tremendously in our ability to coach and lead for equity. How we show up is a critical variable in our ability to transform schools. And how we show up is most closely within our sphere of control, which is why it's worth focusing on if we aspire to contribute to equity in schools.
In this book, I focus on this third point—your skill set as a coach and leader—while also guiding you to create the conditions in which we can build equitable schools. We'll stay focused on the things that are within our influence and control. Thank you for being here.
A Couple of Notes
Terminology and grammar: In this book, I use the traditional pronouns he and she, and in recognition of nonbinary gender identification, I also use they. Additionally, I use Latinx as a gender-neutral or nonbinary alternative to Latino or Latina.
Confidentiality: For the sake of protecting the people I coached, I've modified markers that would reveal their identity. I've changed the obvious things like the grades and content, and I've modified some of what they said. To do this, but to still preserve integrity, I've created composite clients because otherwise, in some cases, it would be too easy to guess some people's identities.
On Bridge-Building
Human beings are challenged by a paradox: we are social animals wired for connection to other humans, and we are wired to sort people into categories, withdraw into our groups, and fear what seems different from us. We ache to be seen in our full humanity, and fear of what we don't understand pulls us back from seeing the complex humanity of other people. This tension exists within each one of us and within our communities—a tension between the desire to come together and the fear, and other forces, that propel us apart. Contending with this paradox lies at the core of our efforts to build equitable schools, and therefore must be acknowledged.
In recent years, social, political, and economic divisions in the United States, and elsewhere, have become even more glaringly apparent. We see where people can't listen to each other, haven't built the skill and ability to learn from each other, lack empathy for each other, and are failing to achieve their goals and visions for peace. And yet, there are many who believe, myself included, that the desire for connection, freedom, and healing is stronger than the desire to hurt, dominate, and oppress. In spite of what has been recorded in some versions of history, I believe the human desire for belonging and healthy community is paramount to all others, although I also recognize that some people's actions have not always aligned to this intention.
In my work in schools over the last 25 years, I've seen educators who declare a commitment to equity, but whose practices fall short of achieving equitable outcomes for students. There's a gap between what they believe (or think they believe) and what they do (or are able to do). I've also worked with many teachers and leaders who aspire to create classrooms and schools where every child thrives, but who did not know how to do so.
Bridging the gap between where we are and where we want—or need—to be requires us to learn together and to talk to each other: conversations close these chasms. I've learned how to have conversations that heal deep wounds, align intentions, and prompt effective action. I consider myself to be an architect of connection.
The bridge offers an evocative metaphor for a process of change. Building a bridge requires sophisticated skills and knowledge, planning, collaboration, imagination, vision, coordination, patience, courage, and love—we'll need all of these attributes as we engage in conversations that cross gaps and as we create equitable schools.
Interconnectedness is a biological, environmental, sociological, emotional, and perhaps spiritual truth. We yearn for connection because we know that we are all connected. We know that to feel whole within ourselves, we must be whole and connected with others. My deepest intention in this book is to bring individuals and communities together. Conversations are the way we'll get there. My intention is that when you finish this book, you'll feel hopeful that healing is possible, and you'll see how we can transform schools into places of liberation through conversations.
Defining Equity
Equity has become a word that's far too easily and loosely used—so let's get to defining it. (For commonly used words, see Appendix G.)
Every Child, Every Day
Educational equity means that every child receives whatever she/he/they need to develop to her/his/their full academic and social potential and to thrive, every day. By thrive, I mean academically as well as social-emotionally. Every child has a right to feel loved and cared for and to feel that they belong to a community. Emotional well-being is as important as academic success in this definition of educational equity.
Educational equity means there is no predictability of success or failure that correlates with any social or cultural factor—a child's educational experiences or outcomes are not predictable because of their race, ethnicity, linguistic background, economic class, religion, gender, sexual orientation, physical and cognitive ability, or any other socio-political identity marker. Here are some examples of educational equity:
A Latinx child who enters kindergarten speaking only Spanish performs as well on reading assessments in third grade as their native English-speaking counterparts.
An African American teen is just as likely as their white or Asian classmates to enroll and thrive in an engineering program in high school.
Girls are equally represented in advanced math courses—and are equally as successful as their male classmates.
A Latinx male with a learning difference in Oakland, California, or in the Bronx in New York City, is just as likely to graduate from high school on time as his white counterparts and is prepared to pursue the career or college path of his choice.
There's proportionality in the demographics of kids sent to the office: if a district's African American population is 20 percent, then at most, 20 percent of office referrals are for African American students.
Beyond the predictability of success and failure, educational equity means that every child is seen for who they truly are, and their unique interests and gifts are surfaced and cultivated. For every child to cultivate their unique gifts, they need access to an extensive range of learning opportunities, activities, and material. This means that when Prentis Jr. discovers in first grade that his love and skill for drawing surmounts all others, he has the opportunity and encouragement to pursue this passion. This means that in fourth grade, when Thui's verbal abilities are recognized, her public speaking skills are developed. Education is a vehicle to self-realization and freedom.
Educational equity means every child, every day. Period.
And yes, this is a high bar: Every child.
And it is an attainable goal.
I wonder how I would have reacted as a new teacher, 25 years ago, if I'd read the preceding description of equity. I suspect I would have listed all of the structural and systemic factors that would make attaining equity impossible. Every kid?! I might have scoffed. Not with the education budget being what it was, not with the amount of trauma in the communities I worked in, not with the astronomical turnover of teachers in our schools, not with 42 students in my second-grade class, not without books or paper or chalk. I might have slammed this book shut.
I might not have realized that my response had to do with my own intense emotions. This included the doubt I had in my abilities as a teacher; I feared that I would never have the skills and knowledge to meet the needs of every child, and I felt ashamed of my shortcomings. I was also incensed about what I saw in schools, about the suffering that children experienced. I despaired that change would ever happen; I feared that I wouldn't be able to meaningfully contribute. I was frustrated and felt hampered by what I could do, and I was very sad as I looked at the state of education and as I learned about the suffering my students experienced. These emotions were overwhelming, and if someone had told me that meeting the needs of every single child was an attainable goal, I might have reacted with anger.
I know our schools are under-resourced, that there's trauma in many communities, and that teacher turnover is an obstacle to meeting the needs of children. The complexity of the external factors that impede us from realizing this vision of equity are more sharply visible to me than they've ever been. And yet, I still hold this as an attainable goal: every child, every day. I have seen classrooms and schools come very, very close to meeting this goal. When I acknowledge my fear, grief, doubt, and anger, I can hold this goal and move toward it. Your fear, grief, doubt, anger—and all your emotions—can be a part of this journey. Bring them along if you'd like, and let's keep our eyes on the prize: every child, every day.
White Supremacy
Racism, as we know it today, wouldn't exist without white supremacy. Racism is based on the ideology that “white people” are superior. When I use the term white supremacy in this book, which I do a lot, I mean the mindset and belief system of white superiority that has become institutionalized in policy. White supremacy is further explained in Chapter 3.
Racial Equity and Intersectionality
This book focuses on racial equity. Race is a social construct that has no bearings in science. The concept of race, and then racial superiority, and then white supremacy, was created to justify the genocide of indigenous peoples, the enslavement of millions of Africans, and an exploitative economic system. Notions of white supremacy were developed hand in hand with the expansion of colonization and capitalism (Kendi, 2016).
For centuries in the United States, whiteness granted individuals freedom, allowed them to vote, own property, run for office, live in the suburbs, get a loan, attend certain schools and universities, drink from certain water fountains, sit in the front of the bus, and learn to read. Today, an individual's race is what might get them a job interview (or not), what might allow them to feel safe when camping in a rural area, what might get them pulled over for speeding (or for no reason at all) or thrown in jail, or what might provoke a police officer to shoot an unarmed teenager—and then to be acquitted of that murder. In the United States today, race is the ultimate determinant of a person's livelihood, health, financial success, home ownership, and even life expectancy. In Oakland, California, where I live, a black man has a life expectancy of 71 years—whereas a white man can expect to live some 87 years (East Bay Times, 2009).
Almost every corner of this world we live in has been polluted by white supremacy. It manifests in our institutions, systems, and actions, and in our mindsets. White supremacy shows up in our schools and classrooms every day—in public and private classrooms, in classrooms taught by white people and people of color, and in homogeneous and diverse classrooms. It is a dangerous force, in part because it is often invisible. Furthermore, white supremacy has been harmful to people of color and people of European decent; everyone will benefit from dismantling white supremacy.
We'll also explore the intersections between race and gender, race and class, and race and gender and class. Intersectionality, a concept coined by professor Kimberlé Crenshaw, is a concept to describe the prejudice stemming from the intersections of racists ideas and other forms of bigotry such as sexism, classism, ethnocentrism, and homophobia. Identity markers intersect and create unique experiences of marginalization.
Here are some statistics that validate why we need to focus on race in schools:
The U.S. Census Bureau projects that by the middle of 2020, the majority of the nation's children will be nonwhite (U.S. Census Bureau,
2018
).
In 2015–2016, about 80 percent of public school teachers were white (National Center for Education). Research has shown that white teachers have lower expectations of students of color, which affects student success (Gershenson and Papageorge,
2018
).
Seventy-five percent of white Americans do not have friends of a different race (Cox, Navarro-Rivera, and Jones,
2016
). Most white teachers get information about people of color from external sources—movies, news, social media, etc.
These numbers validate the urgency with which we need to discuss race, identity, and how racism manifests in schools.
Finally, this book focuses on the experiences of “black and brown” children. While acknowledging the complexity of racial identity, there's a great deal of research on how the experience of say, a Japanese-American child will be different from (and perhaps better than) the experience of a Lakota child in North Dakota, or a Native Hawaiian in Honolulu, or an African American child in the southside of Chicago. “Black and brown” refers to people who are descendants of the African diaspora (which may include Haitians or Jamaicans, for example) as well as to recent immigrants and refugees from Africa. I alternate referring to students as “African American,” and “black” to acknowledge those different groups and cultural roots. Finally, “black and brown” also refers to First Nation/Indigenous/ Native American/American Indian peoples, to Latinx people, and to a range of others who are “brown” (and perceived as non-western) including Palestinian, Polynesian, Cambodian, and Pakistani people.
Every Conversation Is a Conversation About Equity
Every conversation I have in and about schools is a conversation about equity—regardless of the demographics of the school. Every time I set foot in a school or speak to an administrator or a coach or a teacher, everything I see and hear is filtered through an equity lens. I think about who is thriving, who is sitting where, who is raising their hand, who is being yelled at, who is reading what, who is playing with whom, who is in the front office waiting for the principal, who the principal is, who the teachers are, what the teachers are doing in professional development (PD), how teachers redirect off-task students, how the teachers explain a concept, how the teachers check for understanding, what teachers assign for reading, how students are grouped, how students are instructed to walk in the hallways, who is praised, who gets feedback, and so much more. I filter each observation and wondering through an equity lens. I look for patterns and trends, and I look for outliers. I process what I see through my understandings of sexism, classism, institutional racism, and other forms of bigotry and discrimination.
There is no distinction between a conversation in which I am coaching for equity and any other. Equity issues are present in every situation—that's the nature of living in a society in which systems of oppression (including white supremacy and patriarchy) are embedded in our mindsets, behaviors, and institutions. We often don't recognize the prevalence of systemic oppression, because that's precisely how it works—by becoming invisible, by seeming to be “normal,” and by being just a part of how things are, how we think, and how we feel.
What Is in This Book
To coach for equity, we must see inequities and know what to do about them. We must recognize how racism and white supremacy manifest in the classroom, and we must have an idea about what equity looks like—what we're trying to coach someone toward. In this book, you'll find a few key resources to help you build your knowledge and understanding of this content: there's the Equity Rubric (Appendix B), which is a comprehensive attempt at outlining and describing the indicators of equitable inputs in a school. In Chapter 3, and interspersed throughout the book, you'll find descriptions of many key terms and concepts you need to understand. Those concepts are foundational to recognizing inequity in schools.
In order to coach for equity, there is an expansive set of abilities that you need. These abilities include a set of knowledge. Amongst other things, you need to know how to work with adult learners, how to recognize inequities in the classroom, and how to understand emotions. You also need a set of skills including how to use a wide array of Transformational Coaching tools, how to coach around beliefs, and how to coach using the four Phases of Transformational Coaching. You also need will: a deep commitment to interrupting inequities and a profound sense of purpose. Capacity is necessary to coach for equity—time and resources. You need cultural competence: a set of skills and knowledge to understand your own identity and the identities of others, and to navigate difference. Finally, you need emotional intelligence: self-awareness, the ability to navigate your own emotions, as well as an ability to recognize the emotions of others and to navigate their emotions. These abilities are outlined in Table 1 Abilities Required to Coach for Equity, and you can see which chapter or chapters specifically support the development of those abilities.
Table 1 Abilities Required to Coach for Equity
Area
Element
Chapter in
Coaching for Equity
Knowledge
Of coaching
1 and Appendix C
Of racism & white supremacy
3 and Appendix B
Of adult learners
5
Of emotions
7
Of identity
8
Of teaching and education
Appendix B
Skill
How to implement Transformational Coaching
All
How to coach behaviors, beliefs, and ways of being
All
How to move through the Phases of Transformational Coaching
1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12 and Appendix A
How to coach for system change
1, 3, and Appendix D
How to create the conditions in which adults can learn
All
Will
A commitment to interrupt inequities
All
A deep sense of purpose
All
Courage
All
To learn and reflect on one's own practices
All
Capacity
Time to learn, practice, reflect, and attend to self Funds for books, professional development, and a coach and/or therapist
NA
Cultural Competence
Awareness of one's own identity markers
2 and 8
An understanding of power dynamics through a lens of identity and systemic oppression
All
Ability to navigate racial differences in coaching relationships
8
Experience with people who hold different identity markers than your own
NA
Emotional Intelligence
Refined self-awareness, ability to navigate one's own emotions, and cultivate resilience
All
Ability to navigate the emotions of others
2, 4, 7
Compassion and curiosity
All
Ability to build trusting relationships
All
Structural Features to Anticipate
There are some features in this book that I hope will help you understand and reflect on the content and incorporate it into your work. These features include the following:
“Interludes”: At the end of each chapter, you'll find an opportunity to reflect on one of the
Principles of Transformational Coaching
. You'll learn about these
principles
in
Chapter 1
, and be introduced to them at the end of the Introduction.
At the end of each chapter, there's a section called “Before You Go.” Here you'll find prompts to help you dig deeper into and reflect on the content of the chapter. I'll also suggest a few actions that you can take right away.
Additional Resources
My new workbook, The Art of Coaching Workbook: Tools to Make Every Conversation Count (2020) is an invaluable companion to this book. The exercises and resources in it will guide you to become an effective Transformational Coach.
On my website, http://brightmorningteam.com, you'll find the two massive rubrics that are in this book's appendices, and you'll also find additional resources and tools related to the content of this book including:
The Coaching Lenses
The Consultancy Protocol
Planning for an Equity-Focused Conversation
Reflecting on My Own Biases
The Classroom Visit Tool
Who You Are—The Readers
This book is for leaders who are committed to justice and freedom. While this book focuses on leaders in schools, it could be useful for leaders in any organization who use coaching as a means to help people learn. And this book is for those who identify as white as well as those who identify as people of color.
For Leaders
Author and researcher Brené Brown defines a leader as anyone who takes responsibility for finding the potential in people and processes (Brown, 2018). Coaches and teachers are leaders in schools—if they choose to see themselves that way. So yes, this book is for all kinds of coaches—instructional coaches, data coaches, curriculum coaches, technology integration coaches, and so on. This book is also for mentors, department chairs, superintendents, principals, and anyone in a formal leadership position. To clarify: This book is for educators who accept responsibility for interrupting inequities in schools—regardless of position. If you see inequities and are committed to doing something about them—you want more resources, tools, and strategies; and you want to have effective conversations about equity—then this book is for you.
If you're not sure if there's a racial equity problem in the United States and in many areas of the world (or if you disagree with this fact), this book may not be helpful. I've included some data behind the fact that there's racial inequity, but this book is not intended to convince you that racial injustice exists. If you're dubious about racial inequities, you'll find suggestions for further learning in Appendix F: Resources for Further Learning.
This book is for coaches and leaders who are brand new to conversations around equity and those who have been engaged in these efforts for many years. Depending on where you're entering into this work and your level of exposure to this content, you'll likely find some sections that contain familiar ideas and information and other sections with new ideas and strategies. This work is never done, so even reviewing what we already know helps us deepen our knowledge and wisdom.
For Learners of All Identities
I wrote this book in the hopes that it would be useful to a diverse audience, from a white coach in Omaha, to a Latinx teacher in an Oakland public school, to a teacher in a private institution in Seattle. I write for those who work in homogenous organizations and for those who are in diverse environments.
When I consider identity markers, here's how I think about the audiences for whom I write: If you grew up white, in the suburbs, raised by two heterosexual, English-speaking, middle-class parents; and if you were raised Christian, or celebrating Christian holidays; and if you yourself are heterosexual and cisgendered; and if you were a neurotypical learner and you're able-bodied, then you probably haven't had very many experiences of being marginalized because of your identity markers. If this is you, you've just got a lot to learn. To me, it's that simple. You've got a lot to learn. If you grew up in a community in which these identity markers were held by a great majority of the folks around you, a homogenous community, then you have even more to learn. I'll expand on the idea of responsibility, and the luck of being born into a certain kind of body in a certain place and time to a certain family, but it really comes down to this: Some of us have more to learn than others.
But hold on. Let's be really clear on one thing: We all have learning to do. None of us have had the full spectrum of identity experiences to make us experts and authorities on coaching for equity—that is simply impossible. Our experiences (sometimes painful ones) teach us—and yet, we all know some things and need to learn others.
This book is written with people of color in mind, and in heart. As a person of color, there's so much I want to say directly to others who might share some of the experiences I've had as a person and an educator of color. I have written with both you, as a fellow person of color, and me in the front and center of my mind in many ways, and there are a few places where I directly address you and discuss the exhaustion of this work, as well as the need for self-care and healing practices, and the unique ways in which we can contribute.
Who I Am—The Author
As you do this work of coaching for equity, it's important to know yourself and how your identity markers have influenced your perspective. I know that for you to trust me, I need to share a little about myself.
Here are the professional highlights from my resume: I started teaching in 1994, at the high school level in Salinas, California. In 1995, I moved 100 miles north to Oakland, and worked in the Oakland Public Schools for 19 years as a teacher, instructional coach, leadership coach, and administrator. I didn't intend to leave the school district and start my own business—but that's what happened after the publication of The Art of Coaching (2013). Since then, I've also written The Art of Coaching Teams (2016), Onward: Cultivating Emotional Resilience in Educators (2018a), The Onward Workbook (2018b), and The Art of Coaching Workbook (2020) and I've traveled around the world sharing the strategies in these books. I now lead a small and mighty organization (Bright Morning Consulting) that shares transformational learning practices. This, in brief, is who I am as a professional.
As for this book and my work on educational equity, work focused on race and intersectionality, there are a host of relevant personal experiences and identity markers. I was born in London, England, in the final days of the 1960s, to an Ashkenazi Jewish-American mother and a Costa Rican father. Neither of them had family in Britain; neither of them wanted to be there. Cold War politics and their stubborn love for each other landed them in a working-class suburb of London.
My childhood was characterized by a high level of diversity. My mother's best friends were a German woman and a black South African man: it was their voices I first heard in the Orthodox Jewish hospital when I was born, along with my father's Spanish, the Cockney of the East End of London, and the Yiddish of the Holocaust survivors who worked in the hospital. On one side of our house, our neighbors were from Trinidad and Tobago. The neighbors across the street were from Pakistan. On the corner, they were from Jamaica and India. After school, I'd go to Prabjit's flat, which was filled with women in saris and incense and curry spices and colors, and we'd eat heaps of chapatis and sticky rose-flavored treats. In the mid-1970s, my house filled with young people who had been exiled from South America because of dictatorships in their home countries. My mother had become a teacher of English as a Second Language, and her adult students were often at our house cooking, singing, and telling stories. In England, we were poor—occasionally “on the dole” (welfare) and sometimes unable to pay for heat, but everyone in our community was poor.
In 1980, my mother, younger brother, and I moved to the United States. My parents had divorced—my father returned to Costa Rica, and my mother wanted to be near her mother, who had retired to a wealthy beach community in Southern California. I started fifth grade wearing secondhand clothes from the Salvation Army and new sneakers. From the first days in school, I was teased relentlessly about my hand-me-downs and “K-Mart crappies.” Kids chased me on the yard shouting, “Go back to Mexico!” This initially confused me, although I also knew what they referred to—I was not white. In my high school of 1,600 students, I was one of four Latinx students. There was one African American family in this town and a handful of Jewish families. Everyone else seemed to be of northern European descent. Teachers took one look at my name, my phenotype, and my single mother rolling up in her old car, and they placed me in remedial classes. I was a shy and quiet C-average student, and I was ignored most of the time.
My little brother had epilepsy and other physical and behavioral challenges. When we moved to California, he was bullied viciously. He'd fall on the ground at the bus stop, convulsing, and kids would kick him and shout “seizure boy!” Teachers didn't seem to like him and didn't know what to do with him. On the day he turned 16, he quit school. My brother did overcome some of these adversities: He eventually got his diploma, went to college, and now works in the medical field. But his experience made me become a teacher who walked into a classroom and looked for the boy-child who was most struggling, who was socially ostracized, and who was in pain. I would hone in on that child and heap all the love and attention I could on him. As a teacher, my attention focused on the struggling boys, and the quiet, ignored girls.
My mother was a fierce advocate for my brother and me. She talked to me about politics and literature, and when I had writing assignments, she'd give me feedback on draft after draft. My teachers told me I couldn't write because I couldn't spell; my mother questioned me on my ideas, challenged me to dig deeper into my beliefs, guided me to articulate my thoughts, and showed me how to craft compelling paragraphs. My mother taught me to write.
As for my racial identity, because of my phenotype and name, people often assume I'm Latina, but sometimes perceive racial ambiguity. I've been asked, more times than I can count, “What are you?” I dislike the phrase “I'm half this and half that” because it connotes incompleteness. I consider myself to be 100% Jewish and 100% Latina. While this is my internal experience, externally I'm generally perceived as being Latina.
In my professional life, my perceived identity has often been viewed pragmatically—as a way to fulfill a quota. For decades, I suspect I was only hired because either a person of color was needed to diversify a group, or because I was Latina. I once interviewed for a teaching position for which I was a good fit, and at the interview, the principal said, “I'm concerned because you don't have experience teaching this grade level, but we serve a primarily Latino community and we don't have any Latinos on staff.” I entered that position thinking, I'm going to prove that I'm worthy, that I deserve to be here. To be clear: I'm all for affirmative action and diversity, but for many years, in many roles, I was not recognized for who I am and what I can do. I didn't feel seen or valued. I still suspect that at times I'm invited to speak or present at a conference because the organizers want a Latina to round out the diversity of their panels—not because of the merits of my work or my presentation skills. It takes diligent awareness to shake the imposter syndrome that lurks around my confidence.
There's one more identity marker that affects who I am as an educator and the content of this book. My husband is African American—he grew up in a working class family in Memphis and is the first generation in his family that did not have to pick cotton. We've been together since 1997 and have one child—a son, who at the time of writing this is in high school. Our son is an easy-going kid who is obsessed with astronomy and classical music and is determined to work for NASA. In both the public and private schools that he's attended, we've experienced a steady current of implicit bias. In kindergarten, he was described as “spacey and distractible,” his first-grade teacher recommended testing him for Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), and his fifth-grade teacher labeled him “defiant” and believed he had learning disabilities. Our son attended a middle school that during the time he was there, fell apart. Amidst organizational chaos, biases of all kinds can take the reins, and it seemed as if every time he stood up, sat down, walked a hall or turned a corner, he was seen as acting out or being disrespectful. Until he entered high school, it felt like we needed to advocate for him every 15 minutes—to direct teachers to see his strengths and skills, to unpack their biased assumptions, to insist that he be seen in his full humanity. Over and over, concerns about his behavior superseded interest in his intellect. Remember, also, that we live in the San Francisco Bay Area, one of the supposedly most progressive regions of the United States.
