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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Bildung
- Sprache: Englisch
How teachers can unlock the power of inclusivity and joy to transform their classroom and behavior management In Rooted in Joy: Creating a Classroom Culture of Equity, Belonging, and Care, educational justice advocate and educator Deonna Smith delivers a unique blend of theory, academic frameworks, narrative, and digestible advice on impacting deeply rooted school culture challenges and managing the day-to-day classroom. This research-based book brings a friendly and accessible voice to a complex issue, making the subject matter easy to follow and apply in the real world. In the book, you'll build your toolbox for cultivating a inclusive and joyful classroom culture throughhumanizing your students and acknowledging the role that culture and race play in the educational system.You'll also: * Find valuable, downloadable resources that complement and highlight the topics discussed in the book * Discover resources suited to first-year teachers, as well as educators with decades of experience in the classroom * Discover ways to improve learning outcomes for all students An essential and practical resource for teachers, administrators, principals, and other education leaders, Rooted in Joy will also benefit education policymakers, regulators, and other public officials seeking advice on how to shape the next generation of school policy.
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Seitenzahl: 345
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
CHAPTER 1: When We Know Better, We Do Better
A NOTE ON SHAME
YOU
SHOULD
SEE COLOR
INTENT VERSUS IMPACT
THE INTERNAL WORK
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE TEACHERS' LOUNGE STAYS IN THE TEACHERS' LOUNGE
TEACHER SELF CHECK‐IN
WELLNESS AND WHOLENESS
WHEN IT'S TIME TO HEAL
SELF‐CARE, COMMUNITY CARE, AND SUSTAINABILITY
SEEING THE WHOLE PICTURE
CHAPTER 2: What We Need to Know
ANTI‐RACISM AND ASSET PEDAGOGIES
INEQUITY BY DESIGN
ALLOWING YOURSELF TO DREAM
ON HUMANIZING OUR STUDENTS
WHAT'S ALREADY OUT THERE
CHAPTER 3: Mindset Bootcamp
THE HUMANITY OF THESE LITTLE HUMANS
CLASSROOM ECOSYSTEMS
BEYOND MANAGEMENT AND PUNISHMENT
EQUITY/RACISM/SOCIAL JUSTICE
SOME TRUTHS ABOUT TRAUMA
CHAPTER 4: Building a Healthy Ecosystem
CLASSROOMS ARE ECOSYSTEMS
BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS
CREATING AN INTERDEPENDENT ECOSYSTEM
UNDERSTANDING CHALLENGING STUDENTS
FAMILIES AND COMMUNITIES
THE SECRET INGREDIENT IS
JOY
JOY IN EQUITY WORK
CHAPTER 5: Maintaining the Ecosystem
STARTING WITH YOU
SET THE STAGE FOR SUCCESS
IN THE CLASSROOM
STAKEHOLDERS WHO SUPPORT YOUR ECOSYSTEM
PRACTICES TO KEEP YOUR ECOSYSTEM HEALTHY
Conclusion
Epilogue: Where Are They Now?
References
Glossary
About the Author
Index
End User License Agreement
List of Illustrations
Chapter 1
Figure 1.1 Seeing the Whole Picture
Chapter 3
Figure 3.1 Consider the Student's Why
Figure 3.2 Behavior Derives from Culture
Chapter 4
Figure 4.1 Essential Elements of Teacher‐Student Relationships
Figure 4.2 The Key Components of Classroom Ecosystems
Chapter 5
Figure 5.1 How to Build Community
Figure 5.2 My Classroom Walk‐Through
Figure 5.3 Best Practices for Accountability
Guide
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
Conclusion
Epilogue: Where Are They Now?
References
Glossary
About the Author
Index
Wiley End User License Agreement
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Rooted in Joy
CREATING A CLASSROOM CULTURE OF EQUITY, BELONGING, AND CARE
Deonna Smith
Copyright © 2023 Jossey‐Bass Publishing. All rights reserved.
Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.Published simultaneously in Canada.
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Library of Congress Cataloging‐in‐Publication Data:
Names: Smith, Deonna, author.
Title: Rooted in joy : creating a classroom culture of equity, belonging, and care / Deonna Smith.
Description: First edition. | Hoboken, New Jersey; San Francisco : John Wiley & Sons, Inc. : Jossey‐Bass Publishing, [2023] | Includes index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023010373 (print) | LCCN 2023010374 (ebook) | ISBN 9781119898030 (paperback) | ISBN 9781119898047 (adobe pdf) | ISBN 9781119898054 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Educational equalization—United States. | Anti‐racism—United States. | Classroom environment—United States. | Teaching—Social aspects—United States. | Teacher‐student relationships.
Classification: LCC LC213.2 .S63 2023 (print) | LCC LC213.2 (ebook) | DDC 371.102/4—dc23/eng/20230503
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023010373
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023010374
Cover Design: Wiley
Cover images: Flowers:© komunitestock/Getty Images
Paper Texture: © Silmairel/Getty Images
This book is dedicated to every teacher who still believes in joy.
To my mother, my biggest cheerleader, my amazing husband, and the rest of my incredibly supportive family.
A special thank you to my support systems at school. The colleagues who have supported me along the way, my mentors, and the people who believed in me and this book.
Most important, this book is for all my students—all the little humans who touched my life. You taught me more than they'll ever know. I love you.
INTRODUCTION
Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.
—James Baldwin
I'm hoping that this is one of those great books that you pick up over and over again. There are many books in my library that I visit when I want to laugh, when I need some inspiration, or when I want to feel I'm not alone. I've tried to include a little bit of all that in this text.
This book needs a spot on your shelf where you can pull it out from time to time and revisit the ideas and concepts. You can pick it up and put it down again as you navigate the ups and downs of the classroom. The reality of teaching is that we don't often get time to invest in ourselves and our craft, but I hope you will take the time to work through this text and reflect on the content and its messages.
I've poured myself into this book. I've included many stories about my time as a teacher—having changed the names of others, of course—because I want you as the reader to know that I see us as accompanying each other on this journey. I've studied anti‐racism and teaching for many years, but that doesn't mean that I'm the ultimate authority and expert. I'm learning with you. I wanted to create something that would resonate with teachers and administrators, something that they could see themselves and their students in. I intentionally mix experience with anecdotes, theory, and frameworks. Many of the ideas that I talk about in this book warrant some extra time for study and consideration. Because I couldn't fit everything that I wanted into this text, I instead tried to synthesize and chunk everything so it's clear what you need to know to move forward.
And though this book is primarily written for teachers, it applies to everyone engaged in K–12 schooling. Teachers can't do it alone. We need school and district leaders who are also committed to belonging, care, and joy. In fact, equity work is even more impactful when it's taken on school‐wide. So, if you're, say, a school administrator, the mindsets that are detailed here are just as important for you as a leader, and the strategies that you'll find here can be shared with your teachers. Or, if you're a parent or caregiver, this book can give you insight into how you can center joy, belonging, and care at home.
When you visit the following pages, I invite you to do so with an open mind and heart. I invite you to think about the students in your sphere and reflect on your interactions; I'm guessing you'll read something that will remind you of a particular student or incident. And although you might find yourself reflecting on mistakes, I also hope you'll find at least one story that affirms what you're already doing.
As you proceed, take note of the strategies that might transform your classroom(s)—and reject the ones that don't apply to your situation. But more importantly, stay grounded and open minded. Ask yourself what brought you to this profession? What did you hope to accomplish? What expertise do you already bring to the classroom? What more do you need to know?
The truth is, education has perpetuated harm in this country. Our schools and systems have been used against our students. Halls and classrooms have problematized students and made them feel unwelcome. Too many kids struggle through classrooms and leave hating school and hating learning. I'm saddened but not shocked when I hear someone say that they “hated” school. How we experience school affects the rest of our life. Not enough teachers are grappling with this reality. However, I know there are thousands who want to fight for equity, but they might not know how. I hope this book will find its way into the hands of those who really need it. Those who are open to building a healthy and safe classroom ecosystem where all their students can thrive.
But before we dig in, let's get a few questions out of the way.
Why do we need to talk about things like “equity” and “anti‐racism”?
Certainly with all the negative press and all the confusion, contention, and flat‐out fake news about critical race theory (CRT), anti‐racism, and cultural responsiveness, specifically addressing anti‐racism and equity could be controversial. So why call it by name?
Because until we face the fact that racism and other systems of oppression have affected education, we can't undo that impact. Unless we are honest about the fact that our educational system was designed to produce inequitable outcomes, we will never experience equity. For example, consider the following.
In Florida, a proposed Advanced Placement course in African American studies was banned because it “lacks educational value” (Mazzei & Hartocollis, 2023).
In 2021, the Texas state senate voted to end the requirement that women's suffrage and civil rights be included in social studies curriculum. The move means that Texas students are no longer required to learn about Susan B. Anthony, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., or Cesar Chavez—to name just a few (Williams, 2022).
Across the nation, an estimated 2,523 books were banned in schools. Of these, 41% included LGTBQ+ characters or protagonists, 40% included people of color, and more than 30% dealt with issues of racism, activism, and race (Martin, 2022).
From school boards to political debates, the “anti‐CRT” movement has been a highly debated topic. In some states, like Iowa and Colorado, districts ask teachers to post all their lesson plans online for approval. Other states have laws that give parents the right to approve or reject lesson plans. The Stop W.O.K.E. Act in Florida—”Wrong to Our Kids and Employees”—heavily regulates how teachers are allowed to even talk about race in their classrooms (Waxman, 2022).
I've even heard of school boards banning anything having to do with the words diversity, equity, or even social‐emotional health. This disturbing wave has been called many things, from whitewashing history to fascism.
And it's certainly affecting our classroom cultures.
There are many “‐isms” that we face in our classrooms, both interpersonally and institutionally. We have to fight classism, sexism, xenophobia, transphobia, ableism, ageism … the list goes on. This book seeks to embrace all intersections of identity, but will specifically focus on race and culture. And yet, the practices can be used to reduce all kinds of inequity in the classroom—to actively work toward an inclusive classroom that honors the diversity of all students.
Is all this just good teaching?
Yes! It is absolutely important that we specifically address the way that racism has affected our classrooms, but you'll notice that many of the strategies in this book are just good teaching practices that will help all students thrive.
There will of course be practices, suggestions, and frameworks presented that seek to specifically dismantle the legacy of racism in education. Some teachers may face scrutiny for pursuing asset‐based or other equity work. Ideally, teachers wouldn't be persecuted for wanting the best for their students. In fact, equity work is even more impactful when done on a school‐wide or district‐wide scale. The reality is, in many states and districts this work has become vilified. But, even if you work in an “anti‐CRT” state, that does not mean that you can't build a joyful, inclusive, and asset‐based classroom ecosystem. Ultimately, you're seeking to improve outcomes for yourself and your students—you just might need to be strategic about your messaging.
We do need activists and allies who are ready and willing to push back against these harmful laws and book bans. Many teachers across the country are experiencing burnout and/or “compassion fatigue” and don't have the bandwidth to organize against these laws. But, ultimately, we need teachers and their allies to organize for change.
There are so many terms: Black, Brown, BIPOC, and so on. What do they all mean?
Labels and words matter. In this book, I sought to be intentional about word choice when discussing different groups. First, Black is capitalized because it refers to a collective history, culture, and racial group. In most contexts I'm talking about Black American students. You'll notice that the term white isn't capitalized. Many major publications, such as the New York Times and Wall Street Journal, don't capitalize white. When white is capitalized, it's typically associated with white supremacy groups and white nationalists. In an effort to delegitimize those organizations, I am sticking with the lowercase w for this book.
But what about the term Brown? You've probably heard the phrase Black and Brown. So whom does that include? According to Chow (2017), there is no set definition of Brown. Many people in the South Asian community refer to themselves as Brown. Some Indigenous communities, Southeast Asian, and Latinx communities identify as Brown. There does appear to be some dissension in regards to whether East Asian folks are Brown (Chow, 2017). But there is no definitive answer. In this book, Black and Brown refers to non‐white people in the United States, a synonym for people of color. (The term BIPOC stands for Black, Indigenous, [or] people of color.)
It is important at times to be very specific. For example, some data and references will refer specifically to Black students or Indigenous students because, although there is a need for collective solidarity and a coalition between Black and Brown folks, we have different experiences in the US education system. This book will always strive to use the most specific and accepted term by the group referenced. Black and Brown people are not a monolith, and neither are individual ethnic or cultural groups. There might be terms used in this book that do not suit all members, but the intention is never to minimize, reduce, or offend—it is, rather, to find the most commonly agreed‐on and updated term.
No doubt in the years to come a new, better, or more appropriate term will arise, and that's good. Language is fluid, and we are constantly in the process of decolonizing and liberating our minds and the ways that we refer to and understand ourselves.
How do things like anti‐racism and other equity work interact with other strategies that I'm already using like Class Dojo, Classroom Economy, or Dean's List?
Centering equity and anti‐racism is not a strategy. It's an approach and a pedagogical stance. It's what you do in the classroom, but it's also who you are. Being an asset‐based teacher doesn't mean that you can only use strategies that are labeled as asset‐based. Rather, it means that you operate with a few understandings, such as the following:
What we do in the classroom matters; in the small interactions and choices that we make we can either enforce or dismantle systems of oppression.
Systemic racism is pervasive in education, both on a grand scale, like school funding, but also on a small scale, like who gets expelled versus who gets a second chance.
You'll have to commit to this work holistically. It's not a switch that you can turn on and off but rather a mindset that you need to adopt. Let it grow with you and help you be a better and more intentional educator.
Teachers develop toolboxes and strategies to cultivate classroom cultures and respond to student needs. These come from many places: our credentialing programs, professional development, or the other teachers. When you adopt an equity mindset and approach, you may very well still use many of those tools.
You might find that some of your tools and strategies no longer serve you and your students. There is no checklist that says what's asset‐based, equitable, or not. The more you learn, the more you'll be able to see what systems, practices, and tricks move you closer toward an equitable classroom—and which ones move you further away from it.
Many practices in our classroom are informed by carceral practices and ways of thinking. Because of this, many common practices that teachers employ are not equitable, and end up perpetuating ‐isms like racism or sexism.
When you start to build a healthy classroom ecosystem, you'll want to critically interrogate those harmful practices and adopt new ones that are centered on belonging and care.
Is anti‐racism for Black and Brown folks, white folks, or both?
Black and Brown folks have personal experience with racism, but that doesn't mean that we—I'm using we because I'm including myself—don't need to understand asset‐based and equity work. Racism isn't just about individual actions and attitudes, so Black and Brown people can unintentionally perpetuate harm and racism simply by reinforcing the systems around them. That's because the status quo—what's normal and accepted—is deeply rooted in racism.
White folks need to be deeply engaged in asset‐based and equity work, and not just because they want to “help.” It is imperative that white folks recognize that in a society where racism thrives we are all harmed. As long as there is one system of oppression, others thrive and build on each other. Our collective liberation must be the goal.
Racism harms everyone. In the classroom, policies that are rooted in inequity or racism harm all students, even white ones. Let's say all your students are white; maybe you're thinking that perhaps that means you don't need to engage in this work. But remember: students learn about how to “be” in school. They receive messages about right and wrong, society, relationships, and just about being human in general. Because your students, regardless of their race, will have to learn to navigate racism and all the other ‐isms in this world, they need to start learning as soon as possible, and that includes white students.
This book is for Black, Brown and white teachers. All teachers. You might notice that there is quite a bit of advice and time spent on strategies that are more geared toward white teachers. This is because in the United States there are simply more white teachers; according to the National Center for Education Statistics (2020), almost 80% of teachers are white. But the strategies and tips in this book are applicable to everyone.
Will this book help me master behavior and classroom management?
Spoiler alert: a huge component of behavior management is letting go of the idea that all behavior needs to be “managed.” This framing is problematic, and I'll discuss it in Chapter 3. It is not the intention of this book to make you a manager. A successful teacher is not one who goes about the classroom managing and responding to every behavior that they don't like or that doesn't align with a cookie‐cutter view of what classrooms could look like.
The trouble is that that's what many of us understand classroom culture as being: management—so we talk about “classroom management.” The goal, however, is to move away from this thinking and start talking about things like culture, belonging, and joy. This book will help you along your journey of evolving out of that mindset. If you want to be asset‐based and equitable, and you want to create a culture of inclusion in the classroom, this book will help you do just that. But it's not an easy fix. It'll be work, and it'll require some mindset shifts. But it is possible.
Before we jump in, just a few disclaimers.
You'll have to give something up
. If you want something to change, you'll have to do something different. When you start to see the classroom and the world differently, and start to view the world with an equity lens, your mindset will change and so will your practices. If the classroom ecosystem is to be truly rooted in joy, any practices, policies, and even your own behaviors that don't facilitate joyful, caring, and inclusive communities will need to be retired. Maybe it's a reward system that you've always used, or a book you've always taught. Recently many teachers have moved away from Dr. Seuss because of his long and well‐documented history of racism. You might have very fond memories of using Dr. Seuss or even reading him as a child—you can honor those memories
and
let your teaching practice evolve at the same time. It might not be easy, but it's so very worth it. Know that it's okay to do things differently than you always have.
No one book can solve the entire education crisis
. In the wake of the COVID‐19 pandemic, which in many ways is still an ongoing crisis, an unprecedented wave of truly extreme student behavior has swept through classrooms, putting both teachers and students in danger. This book is in no way suggesting that teachers can single‐handedly eradicate or are responsible for these issues. This book is about daily challenges in classroom culture and student behavior. We will certainly explore de‐escalation strategies, but there are some behaviors that are too severe for teachers to face alone.
The practices and approaches in this book work best when coupled with school leaders who are committed to both students and teachers. Additionally, these strategies will be even more meaningful in districts that sufficiently fund schools so they have all the resources they need. Policies that limit teachers' ability to meet the needs of their students undermine the frameworks in this book.
Even if you don't feel supported by your school leader or your district, you can still find great value in this text. The practices in this book are designed to help you create a flourishing classroom ecosystem, despite the significant system‐wide challenges educators are facing.
So here's where we're headed. In Chapter 1 I'll start with talking about who we are, and what we bring to the classroom as individuals. Then, in Chapter 2, I'll talk all about asset pedagogies and how to develop an asset‐based lens.
Chapter 3 is hefty. There are all sorts of ways that we need to shift our thinking if we're going to be able to effect real change. So I've broken them all down into bite‐size portions and grouped them by themes. I encourage you to take your time with them; don't overwhelm yourself with too much at once.
Chapter 4 is where we start building a healthy ecosystem. We'll talk about laying the foundation for the classroom culture. Then Chapter 5 is all about maintenance—how to keep your healthy classroom ecosystem thriving.
Along the way, I share stories from my teacher days, research‐based practices, frameworks, and everything in between. And, you might notice, there's some repetition in here; some things bear repeating!
Let's jump in.
“Education can't save us, we have to save education.”
—Bettina L. Love, We Want to Do More Than Survive: Abolitionist Teaching and the Pursuit of Educational Freedom
CHAPTER 1When We Know Better, We Do Better
I grew up in a well‐meaning very homogenous town in Washington state, where I struggled to navigate an education system that just wasn't designed for students like me: Black, low‐income, and first‐generation college‐bound. With hard work and a lot of luck, I got a bachelor's in political science, Spanish, and international studies and then a master's in education. I started teaching 5th grade in Oakland, California, working with who some would call “challenging” and “urban” students. But this was not like what you often see on TV and on social media; the students in the “tough” neighborhoods were bright, creative, and hilarious! Working in underfunded schools and with students that the education system had all but given up on catalyzed my passion for educational justice.
It was during this time that I began to cultivate and refine my skills as an educator. My vision was simple: focus on relationships, have an “asset” mindset, and always see education as liberation. Before long, opportunities to coach and support other teachers presented themselves, and I eventually became an administrator. The social justice (re)awakening of 2020 crystalized my understanding of my true calling: walking with teachers and other stakeholders through this work. In 2022, I officially became Dr. Smith and started working with even more schools and teachers across the country.
This story has a happy ending, but there were many bumps along the way. There were days, weeks, and months where I thought I just wasn't cut out for this. I made so many mistakes. Like many teachers, I started my career out confused, trying a hodgepodge of everything I had seen online and learned in my credentialing program. I spent weekends drowning in a pile of grading and lesson plans. I shed many a tear out of frustration and exhaustion as I reflected on how chaotic my classroom was. Looking back, I have so much more understanding and grace for myself. I know now it's okay to have days filled with doubt.
Slowly but surely, I built up my toolbox. Having the right tools is essential, but more than that, it's important to have the right mindset. The internal work, unpacking your own identity, mindset, and even mental health, has to be the foundation. Ultimately, it starts with you. But that doesn't mean that you're going at this alone.
Teachers can do it (but they can't do it alone).
Search through Teachers Pay Teachers, an online teacher resource hub (https://www.teacherspayteachers.com), attend a conference, or go to a PD (professional development) session and you'll find dozens of solutions for behavior management. Classroom economies, tokens, apps—you name it. So how come so many of them don't work?
At the end of the day, many of those systems could work, but they don't include the heart work and mindset shifts that teachers might need to make in order to be highly effective. And so anytime I launch a program or training I always start with the teacher. That's because any curriculum, program, or approach is only as culturally responsive, or “asset‐based,” as the teacher implementing it.
But don't fall into the dangerous pitfall of blaming teachers. Politicians, social media, and even some families are all too quick to point to teachers as the problem—instead of listening to them for the solution.
Retention and recruitment have been significant challenges in education, and it's easy to see why. Many teachers are simply underpaid and just have too much on their plate. To top it off, they're being held solely responsible for every problem in the classroom.
It's easy to get caught in a cycle of frustration. We can describe all the reasons why teachers need more support, why we need more admin to step up, what the district could do differently. We should all be advocating for those changes and continuing to highlight systemic barriers to student success.
We can't self‐care our way out of toxic systems, and we can't relationship build our way out of a toxic school culture. The most pervasive and persistent inequities in education cannot be solved within the wall of one classroom.
But for our students to thrive, we need to embrace a both/and. We need both systemic change and to shake up the way we do things in the classroom. Teachers do have agency!
If you're a teacher, start to think of the classroom as its own little ecosystem: a semi‐autonomous zone where you can reimagine what joy, accountability, and community can look like! Finding your agency and owning your power and influence in the classroom will lead to better outcomes for your students—but it will also help you reconnect to the joy of teaching.
Note: this book can't replace a supportive administrator or a well‐resourced school district, but it can help teachers who want to figure out how to build a community rooted in joy despite the barriers and challenges both teachers and students face.
A NOTE ON SHAME
Teachers are under intense and heightened scrutiny at every turn. Despite being charged with a near impossible task, respect and trust in teachers in the United States is low. Several states have laws that give parents the right to contest and oversee what goes on in the classroom. Families being involved can actually be incredibly beneficial for students, but that involvement shouldn't translate to the right to unilaterally veto lesson plans. In some states teachers are required to submit lesson plans to the district for review ahead of time to ensure that they aren't teaching “critical race theory.” Disrespect like this puts teachers and the entire profession on the defensive.
When I first started learning more about researched‐based practices and social justice in education, I felt waves of shame. Shame because in the early stages of my career I made most of the mistakes that I'll talk about in this book. I focused on punishments, perpetuated systems of harm, and didn't do what was best for my students. It was difficult to learn that maybe I wasn't as effective as I thought I was. The great Maya Angelou said, “when you know better, do better.” Once I started learning how to be a better teacher, I had to be mindful to not let my shame take over. That shame can put you back on the defensive. Though it's true that in my first years as a teacher I didn't have a prep, subs, sick days, or support, and all of these things certainly affected my ability to be the best teacher I could be, I had to be honest with myself and look inward. I had some agency over my classroom, and there were things that I could have done differently. I acknowledged those feelings of shame, but then I moved on. I focused on giving myself grace and doing better.
Talking about issues of race, equity, and social justice can also bring on feelings of shame. It's true that the legacy of racism, sexism, homophobia, and all other forms of oppression in this country is shameful. Learning about it and grappling with it can bring up many different feelings, but shame just isn't helpful.
Here's what prolific researcher and professor Brené Brown has to say about shame (in a 2012 TED talk): “If you put shame in a petri dish, it needs three ingredients to grow exponentially: secrecy, silence, and judgment. If you put the same amount of shame in the petri dish and douse it with empathy, it can't survive.”
Again, when you lean into shame, you go on the defensive, refusing to look inward. Don't rob yourself of an opportunity to learn and reflect. Notice when you are feeling defensive or ashamed. Let that feeling come without judgment of yourself. Then start to make room for grace and moving forward.
YOU SHOULD SEE COLOR
My white teachers were amazing. They were highly qualified, well‐trained, veteran teachers—some of the best. But they weren't the best teachers for me. I grew up in a world where it was cool to be color‐blind; the phase of the decade was “I don't care if you're black, white, or purple.” And I get the sentiment—my teachers believed that it shouldn't matter that I was a little Black girl in a very white school. But the thing is, it really did. It mattered that my family and I inherited a 400‐year legacy of oppression. It mattered in many ways, but here are a few.
It mattered because I grew up in a Black neighborhood where the schools were underfunded. Because of this my parents lied about our address to get my sister and me into a better school, so in essence we “stole” our public education. I don't know if I would have been able to accomplish what I have today without that school and fake address. And this story is not unusual—I've known countless other people who did the same thing. For families who are savvy and have the capacity, they get their kids into the “better” schools. But this story would have been very different if my family didn't have the resources to actually get me to school every day. Even in large districts where there are numerous “high‐performing” charter schools, or they use an “open enrollment” system where students aren't bound by the address, you still have to consider the logistics of getting your kids to and from school each day. You'll need reliable public transportation or a car, and a lot of time.
When I worked in the Bay Area, I had students who drove in 45 minutes to an hour each way into school every day. The schools were in historically Black, Brown, or working class neighborhoods and were pretty good options. But the families had been priced out of their homes. They couldn't afford to live where the safe and well‐resourced schools were—or even in their old neighborhoods, for that matter—because of gentrification and the housing crisis. Color‐blind teachers miss all this. They miss that many Black and Brown folks don't have the option to be color‐blind.
It mattered because I never saw myself in the curriculum, books, or adults around me at my school. There were no Black teachers or even staff members. I didn't know where I fit in. I felt alienated as a child—I felt loyal to my roots and heritage as a young Black woman, but also ashamed because I didn't fit in to the world around me. There were only a few books with Black protagonists in our school library: Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry and Amazing Grace. I checked them out over and over, searching for belonging. We didn't learn about Black excellence, joy, or Black history. We only discussed Blackness as it related to whiteness: slavery and civil rights—after which my teachers insisted racism had ended.
It mattered because the kids and students didn't understand what it meant to be Black and different—from my hair that didn't blow in the wind like theirs, to my lunches that didn't look like what the other kids brought each day. I fielded questions every day relating to the fact that I was the first (and sometimes last) Black person that my peers interacted with. Their only frame of reference were the Black people on TV like Dave Chappell and the “gangster rappers” in music videos. Remember, this was long before Black Disney princesses and a Wakanda Forever section in the toy aisle. They asked why I didn't like to dance, and why I wasn't loud like all the stereotypes that they consumed. My white teachers had no idea how to handle situations like this.
These are just a few reasons why when my teachers said they “didn't see color,” the effect was that I was invisible. Everything about me was very much Black. The other kids treated me like I was Black. Their steadfast attempts to sanitize me of my Blackness further alienated me from my own self‐image and identity. It was not intentional, but it was still very much harmful.
My teachers did a great job with me academically, but they didn't know how to be culturally responsive. The fact is, the school was designed to fit the needs of the white students, and it did that very well. I learned to adapt in a process called code‐switching.
Code‐switching is a linguistics term often associated with alternating speaking different languages or dialects in the same conversation. But more recently the term has become associated with adjusting one's behaviors in order to assimilate, or fit, in to a dominant culture. For my behavior to be accepted, I had to code‐switch.
What does that look like? It's different for all cultures, but here's my example.
I came from a very expressive culture and a high‐energy environment. My family was communal, collective, and group oriented. This did not always align well with the very narrow expectations of what it meant to be a “good” student. I would rather work in a group, but so much in school is focused on individual assessment. “Working quietly” didn't mean that I was more productive—in fact, it was the opposite. Songs, routines, and interactive play was how I learned best, when I was expected to “sit and get” it was incredibly difficult for me meet that expectation. Even though I went to a Montessori school, which tends to be more open, I still had to leave my culture at the door.
My culture didn't really have a place in my classroom. The cultural values and ways of being that I grew up with were penalized in that classroom. While the white students only had to learn the material, I also had to learn how to survive (let alone thrive) in a classroom where the norm was based on being able‐bodied, neurotypical, and white.
I'm not trying to inspire sympathy. I learned how to navigate the school system. I learned all the rules and expectations frontwards and backwards. In the Black community, we have a saying that you have to work twice as hard to get half as far. I deeply internalized this sentiment and put in the work.
But the reality is, I shouldn't have had to. And so many students like me didn't have the same advantages: kids whose parents didn't lie about their addresses or would have but weren't able to drive them to a farther school. Kids whose life situation was problematic enough in any number of ways that they didn't have the internal resources to learn how to navigate the white system.
So, we need to do better. But before we can do better we have to be willing to grow.
INTENT VERSUS IMPACT
In the DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) and asset‐based world we talk a lot about intent versus impact. It's critical to understand intent versus impact in education because teachers are some of the most well‐meaning people on the planet. Most—if not all—go into the profession with generous intent: to help and support kids. Unfortunately, sometimes their impact can be quite the opposite.
Intent
