As I reflect on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day I’ve been thinking a lot about systems, and the public education system, in particular. Twelve years ago, our oldest was four and we were looking into public schools for the first time. A friend of mine knew someone whose children were students at our neighborhood school- Palmer Elementary- and the father agreed to talk with me about their experience there. As we were speaking, I mentioned that sending my daughter to a racially and economically diverse and inclusive school was important to me and that was one of the things that was most attractive to me about Palmer. He said, “Yea, I hear that a lot from white parents, that they care about diversity. And then after a few years they leave Palmer for other whiter, wealthier schools and by 4th or 5th grade it’s mostly kids of color who are left.” I remember feeling some umbrage about his comment. “Of course I’m sincere. He’s certainly cynical!”
When we started at Palmer, I began to understand and his cynicism turned to clarity. Now with two children attending Palmer throughout their elementary years, we have experienced what that father had named: white parents’ stated commitment to racial diversity, and then their departure to other schools that offered something that was perceived to be “more” or “better” in some way. More special classes like Spanish or French. More after school programs. Better test scores. Better facilities with extras like climbing walls or activity kits. Better support like paraprofessionals in every classroom. And these schools that are deemed “more” or “better,” are also less racially and economically diverse. Ultimately there was an unstated calculus that the “better” outweighed a vague dedication to diversity. That diversity is “nice to have,” but not a critical criteria for their child’s education.
Over the years, I have heard many comments from white parents like “oh yes, racial diversity is very important, but….” At one meeting about school recruitment, a parent shared “I definitely support the school being diverse, but also I want a school where I connect with the other parents- we have things in common and can, you know, get together to drink wine.” This is perhaps one of the most honest and clear explanations of de facto segregation I have heard. What it means is this: I know I’m supposed to say that I support diversity. And I do, in theory. But I also want to be comfortable with people “like me” and where it’s not hard.
Before we get too deep into this, I want to be clear. This is not a reflection about how horrible those white families are. This is not about judging others and feeling morally superior. This is not about how I am a better white person.
The truth is that going to Palmer was easy for us. It’s our neighborhood school and the girls both navigate just fine in a traditional school environment that in many ways is designed for them. So it is easy to proclaim that we would never “choice” into a different school and we will always prioritize racial and economic diversity, when we haven’t really had circumstances that would test that proclamation. The truth is that, as I outline below, I am full of contradictions as our family navigates and benefits from the system.
And this is about a system. What we experienced at Palmer are the machinations of the system working as it is designed. This is about patterns. Patterns that exist and replicate across all school districts and all systems. This is about my own role in perpetuating the system.
And white folks, this is about us, as a group. About how we contribute and support that system. Not about some white people. Not about other white people. Not about the racist white people. About us.
Here are some ways we help to perpetuate the system:
We believe that our choices are only personal and not political.
Several years ago I had lunch with a woman who grew up in Denver and went to school during the 80s when Denver bussed students in order to create more integrated schools. She recounted how her father took them out of public schools because “you don’t play politics with children.” It sounds good. It sounds simple. It is simply not true. Education is a system and the way it’s set up means that our choices are not just personal, they are bound in community. When her father said “my child isn’t going to get on a bus to integrate schools,” that was both a personal and a political choice.
In most districts, because of per pupil funding, school choice operates in a way that money and resources follow kids. Therefore, the decision to go to one school over another has an impact and causes harm to others. We may have important personal reasons for choosing a school, and that doesn’t change that there is a larger system that we are participating in and affected by that choice, whether we acknowledge it or not.
We don’t talk about race and class.
The myth of what we call “colorblind” continues to ensure that we don’t acknowledge the disparities in our schools. If we don’t talk about race, then we don’t have the language to name, for example, that predominantly white kids are in the honors classes. If we don’t talk about class, we don’t have the language to name, for example, that in DPS the 25% of schools that are primarily white and upper class access between $50K and $1.3M per year of private funding to subsidize their school. While the remaining 75% of schools do not have access to this level of funding because there aren’t structures or people in place to raise that level of funding.
We first have to be willing to name and acknowledge patterns at the group level and then we have to be willing to talk more about what that means in order to address the issues.
We expect that diversity and inclusion means that nothing changes for our white kids.
That expectation leads us to say one thing but behave in a way which simply upholds the system and changes nothing for our kids. My oldest went to middle school and when she first got there, despite the fact that the school was over 70% kids of color, the “honors” classes were predominantly white. The new principal announced upcoming changes to address the practices that contributed to the inequities shown by the make-up of the honors classes and to ensure all students had access to advanced work. Before any changes had been made, many white parents were quite unhappy because something was being asked of their children to engage in equity. They believed they might have to give something up. If the system is changed so that all classes provide opportunities for advanced work, that means losing the honors class designation, feeding an assumption that their child would lose out. Despite the assertions of wanting diversity, actions spoke louder. If we like the idea of a diverse environment, but not the work to make that environment inclusive and equitable, then we don’t actually like the idea of a diverse environment.
We believe that our engagement in equity efforts is benevolence.
This may feel like a contradiction but If we are doing things for other people and don’t see how it benefits our own humanity, then they are bound to fail. If we don’t realize that racism is white folks’ problem – like for real – then the system will remain unchanged. When we operate from a place of only doing for others, then we aren’t truly committed. It is too easy to opt out or give up when we don’t see a stake for ourselves.
We use school choice with a consumerism mentality.
School choice was ostensibly created to provide families in “poorly performing” schools the option to go to another school. The implementation of choice is a recognition of the failing system with a solution that leads to other consequences which contribute to the failing system. This cycle continues to benefit those with the greatest ability to truly choose – the resources and transportation to go to another school. Many families with those resources have used the choice system in the same way they might buy products as a consumer. With the ability to just switch, there is less incentive to stay and be invested in addressing any issues or improving schools.
And in doing so, choice often belies what is at the crux of the issue. As my friend Jinnie has written, “As much as white parents talk about valuing diversity, they don’t value it over other things. When schools are deemed better or more resourced, we don’t include diversity as something better or as a resource.”
We don’t consider who we give grace and who we do not.
The patterns of who we give grace to is important to pay attention to, not just as individuals, but as a larger pattern. What we know is that teachers of color often get worse reviews than white teachers. Same for principals or administrators. This is a pattern. That is not to say people of color can’t be bad at their job. Of course they can. But we need to notice and analyze the patterns and ask ourselves: Is that really what is going on here? If someone else did this would I be more patient or understanding? What assumptions are being made? Who, as a group, is unhappy with this person and does that pattern suggest anything? If we believe in diversity but don’t interrogate who we support and how we support them, then we don’t act out of those beliefs.
We refuse to see and own the contradictions.
There is no way to be engaged in this system without being part of the contradictions or contradicting our stated values. For example, I know that the funding system for public schools is inequitable and that the mere existence of school fundraisers to supplement district funding results in huge disparities between schools. And yet, there are needs for the school that won’t be met without funding. And even ensuring that all funds go to support resources that benefit all the students, the fundraiser still creates a situation where some students/families can participate and others can’t. And schools that can fundraise and schools that can’t fundraise. I know all this and I still fundraise for my kids’ schools.
The same is true with academic performance. I know that school is set up in ways that benefit my kids and the way they learn. I know that they benefit from a system that is set up for kids who are white. And yet, I still find myself thinking in the trap of wanting my kids to “excel.”
These are the contradictions. We have to be able to acknowledge the both/and and admit the contradictions in order to disrupt them.
We avoid discomfort
Like the woman who really just wanted to make mom friends she could drink wine with, we have to acknowledge that one of the biggest drivers of our choices can be comfort. What are we used to? Who feels familiar and comfortable? When do we equate better with similar? What keeps us part of the group? While it’s not hard to understand that most people want comfort and familiarity, we also have to question what we lose and give up with that confort. Comfort is status quo. Status quo maintains the system.
And we know that discomfort is required for change, growth and honesty – and most things that are meaningful. Discomfort is required to change the system.
I have not written anything earth shattering or that hasn’t been better explained in other places. I know this. I write to reiterate. I write to remind myself that Dr. King, and the Civil Rights movement he symbolized, were fighting systems, as illustrated in King’s quote which opens this reflection. I write to remind myself about how I contribute to and passively accept unjust systems. I need to continue to learn from Dr. King. And I need to continue to learn from so many current day leaders that continue to fight those systems and hold our country to its aspirations.
I write to remind myself that it’s about the systems and the ways we personally contribute to them. I write to remind myself to push through discomfort and to continue to hold myself and others to our stated values. I write to invite you to join me in discomfort and disruption – contradictions and all.
bethreflects 