Tee's Journey-My Story, My Way

Your Silence Will Not Save You!

Within the educational sphere, July and August tend to mark the beginnings of fresh leadership appointments in both school and central office positions. As fresh faces assume a new leadership role, many are afforded the opportunity to build their own leadership team. In prior years, I was blessed to have an opportunity to sit on new leadership teams, both at the school level and on a Superintendent’s cabinet. In each of those leadership appointments, I walked into the role with some hesitancy about my abilities and how I would share my ideas, opinions, and sometimes reservations about a particular idea initiated by my boss. Perhaps it was imposter syndrome that led me to lead and question with trepidation. Too often I questioned my preparedness for certain roles. Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for some women, especially women of Color, to internalize feelings of inadequacy. Academic and author, Julia Chang, recounts her experiences in academia while in a tenured track position at an Ivy League University. Chang stated, “The imposter syndrome causes me to feel precisely this: that I am not one with my skin, as though I had the encasing of one fruit and the flesh of another” (2020, p. 261). Chang described my sentiments precisely. I entered the workplace as a confident Black woman having started my career in Baltimore City Public Schools in the early 1990s, but I would find that my Blackness was too much for others to bear in other spaces. As a result, I tempered a little of myself to belong and get along.

While I began my 28^th year in education earlier this month, I must remind myself that I have served as a teacher, assistant principal, principal, assistant superintendent, and superintendent at various points in my career. I pursued the superintendency at the encouragement of a former boss current Superintendent and friend, Dr. Andre D. Spencer. Even with a wealth of experience in various school systems, my inner being was always on guard for self-doubt to seep in. Still, I was pleasantly surprised that on many occasions, my immediate supervisors assured me, through their interactions, affirmations, delegated responsibilities, and a keen interest in my continued growth, that I was hired because they unequivocally believed in me.My input was welcomed, if not sought after, by a handful of supervisors. I recall times when they would never allow a meeting to conclude without the voices of those at the table being heard. In the beginning, I shunned this practice. I was weary of being called on in front of others for fear of saying the wrong thing or simply not knowing what to say. Yet, the spaces these leaders created allowed for conversations to ensue without fear of embarrassment or judgment. Later in my career, I would do my best to embody that same practice of seeking the thoughts and ideas of others. As a former school leader and cabinet official charged with leading, it was rare for me to conclude a meeting without everyone’s voice being heard. For example, prior to moving forward with any systems’ level change, I would pose a very simple question to my direct reports and/or colleagues that asked, “What are the landmines?” Landmines may not have been the best word choice, but the phrase conveyed, “consequential impact”. As I observed the plethora of new leadership appointments shared in the local media and/or on social media platforms this summer, I thought to myself, who will ask, “What are the landmines?” Who will challenge ideas that are not fully fleshed out or simply flawed?

Well, there is no need for me to withhold my thoughts from you any longer. In considering the political and vitriol atmosphere plaguing schools, school board meetings, and other venues where school personnel gather, I rely on the good book, the Bible, to share my lingering thoughts. Specifically, I am drawn to the book of Esther as I try to frame my thinking around leadership. In my opinion, the Book of Esther is one chunk full of the essential elements for making a great story. There is the protagonist and antagonist, exhilarating suspense, conflict, and finally, a resolution. For those who are unfamiliar with the Book of Esther, I will provide a brief synopsis and hope that this summary, albeit brief, compels you to dust off your bible, find Esther, and get to reading. Esther, raised by her uncle Mordecai, is a Jewish woman from the Persian diaspora. King Ahasuerus, at the first sighting of Esther, becomes enamored with her beauty. Long story short, King Ahasuerus makes Esther his wife. According to some bible scholars, in the time leading up to the King and Esther’s wedding and during the early part of their marriage, Esther did not reveal her Jewish heritage to her husband, the King. Mordecai made this request of Esther for fear that the King would abandon all thoughts of marriage to Esther. If you’re wondering why, well now is a good time to go get that bible. There is another character in the Book of Esther, Haman. Haman, an advisor to King Ahasuerus, is promoted above all the king’s officials and the king demands that everyone bow down to Haman. Mordecai refused to kneel and bow down. This refusal, in an act of defiance, is where things get interesting and where I draw parallels between the book of Esther and present-day leadership.

As I shared in my opening, the summer months typically mark the beginning of fresh starts for school and central office leaders. School principals and superintendents are sometimes able to appoint new leadership to their inner circle whether as an assistant principal in schools or chief of staff, assistant superintendent, or similar positions at the Cabinet level. If you are new to your position, you may not feel as inclined nor encouraged to voice your thoughts and opinions especially when they may be in opposition to the views of your supervisor and/or colleagues. If, however, you were selected to serve in a leadership position, then it is critically important that you muster the courage to speak up and out. I recognize, however, that sharing your thoughts and ideas is easier said than done especially when speaking, uninvited, can come with consequences-some immediate and tangible, while others slow and career hazardous. But bell hooks (2004) reminded us on many occasions that our voice is not just a matter of self-preservation, but our voice can serve as a movement to trample the systems of oppression. So, why stay quiet? For whose comfort are we considering? Who is harmed by our silence?

When Mordecai refused to show deference to Haman, Haman was enraged. Haman’s anger further fueled his hatred of people of Jewish descent and led him to devise a plot to destroy all Jews. Mordecai learned of Haman’s plot and went to Esther with a plea that she intercede on behalf of her people to the king. Esther is hesitant to go to the king because, according to the customs and laws during that time, she is keenly aware that approaching the king without him beckoning for her can lead to her death. Mordecai learns of Esther’s hesitancy and sends a powerful message back to Esther, “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house that you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” (New International Version, 2011, Esther 4:13-14)

When scouring the internet and electronic library databases using keywords like, “Mordecai”, “Esther”, “courage”, and “leadership”, the findings seem to depict Esther as the heroine. I, however, want to offer a different perspective, one that illuminates the courage of Mordecai. Look at Mordecai’s position; he is not the king nor is he the king’s official. Yet, Mordecai uses his ‘given’ position as a means of influence and thus, I draw parallels to your position and mine. There are at least three types of organizational power: role power, relationship power, and expertise power. Of the three types of power, relationship power is often underestimated. Relationship power is our ability to forge relationships with others regardless of where one falls on an organizational chart. Even John Maxwell affirms this position in his book, The 360 Degree Leader. Specifically, Maxwell posits, “You can lead others from anywhere in an organization” (2011, p.7). While Mordecai had a relationship with his niece, he could have remained quiet, but he did not. Mordecai used his relationship and positionality to wield some influence over the “role” power his niece held.

After Esther, Mordecai, and their people engaged in three days of fasting and praying, Esther was petitioned by the king who wanted to know why she was in such distress. Esther shared with the king the plot Haman devised to annihilate the Jewish people. In the end, Haman was impaled on the pole that he had set up for Mordecai. The book of Esther has ten chapters, so many details are withheld here. The moral of this story is to illustrate the power of one voice, a voice that refused to be silenced. If you believe the parallels I am attempting to make between Mordecai, Esther, and those of us in leadership positions are hyperbolic, then do nothing. But, if you visualize the faces of individual students, countless families, and even staff members who are harmed by our unwillingness and/or fear of speaking up, then I implore you to be silent no more.

The journey of leadership is often a complex and nuanced one, shaped by our personal experiences, societal dynamics, and the courage to overcome self-doubt. As we navigate the educational arena, marked by transitions and fresh beginnings in leadership positions, it is imperative to reflect upon the lessons from history that can guide us in these roles. The parallels drawn from the Book of Esther, I hope, offer profound insights into the essence of leadership. Esther’s courage to step forward despite the risks she faced resonates with the challenges many leaders encounter when speaking out against the status quo. Likewise, Mordecai’s courage and unwavering determination to make his voice heard, even from a position of relative powerlessness, underscores the influence that relationships and the willingness to speak up can wield in effecting change. Leadership should not be confined to titles or positions, but rather should emerge from the disposition to inspire and influence others, regardless of where one sits on the organizational hierarchy. The power of relationship, expertise, and the willingness to challenge flawed ideas or systems can shape the course of leadership trajectories, ultimately contributing to the transformation of educational institutions and beyond.

Finally, let us draw courage from the stories of those who dared to speak up, who challenged the norm, and who used their positions of influence to create something beautiful for those we’ve been charged to serve. In doing so, we can pave the way for a more inclusive, thoughtful, and impactful educational sphere that empowers leaders to rise above self-doubt and champion positive transformation. As we step into new leadership roles or continue to grow in our current ones, let us heed the wisdom of author and activist, Audre Lorde who said, “It is learning how to stand alone, unpopular and sometimes reviled, and how to make common cause with those others identified as outside the structures in order to define and seek a world in which we can all flourish” (2017, p. 91).

References

Change, J. H. (2020). Spectacular Bodies. In Y. F. Niemann G. G. yMuhs & C. G. Gonzalez (Eds.), Presumed Incompetent II-Race, Class, Power, and Resistance of Women in Academia. Utah State University Press.

hooks, b. (2004). Rock my Soul-Black People and Self-Esteem. Simon & Schuster.

Lorde, A. (2017). Your Silence Will Not Protect You. Silver Press.

Maxwell, John C. (2005). The 360-degree leader: developing your influence from anywhere in the organization. California: Nelson Business.

New International Version. (2011). BibleGateway.com http://biblegateway.com/versons/ New- International–Version-NIV

While She Can Smell the Roses: A Prayer for my Mom

Dear God,

In Matthew 7:7, You said, “Ask and it shall be given to you…” Well, I have an ask, but before I lay my ask at your feet, I need to share a few things. Not that you do not know all things, but it helps me, God, to speak from the heart and lay it all bare. So, here I go.

On the maternal side of my family, my late grandmother Cobb gave birth to a dozen children. I had 11 aunts and uncles; my mom being the oldest of the bunch. One of my uncles, may he rest in heavenly peace, passed away many years ago from sickle cell anemia. According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) sickle cell disease (SCD) is prone to attack one in every 365 African Americans and one in every 13 African Americans carries the sickle cell trait; my mom has the trait. Why are African Americans more prone to sickle cell compared to all other racial and ethnic groups? There are a few thoughts regarding this phenomenon, but I did not intend to offer a scientific synopsis on diseases, specifically SCD, that affect Black/African Americans predominately; rather, I suppose I wanted to remind you that you’ve already plucked from the dozen.

God, I have no idea what it was like growing up with 11 brothers and sisters, but I can conjure up images of what my mom’s early upbringing was like in that very busy household. I envision two grandparents who migrated north to New York from North Carolina to start a new life but faced oppression and discrimination along the way. I envision a modest home where spare bedrooms were nonexistent, but love was plentiful. I envision sibling bickering, but a family bond that would challenge anyone who tried to test family loyalty. I envision a family where clothes were passed down from the old to the young, but those clothes did not indicate longing or need. I envision a semi-bare pantry, but a grandmother who could make a full-course meal out of anything, leaving bellies full and satisfied. I envision my grandmother calling for someone to go to the corner store for a loaf of bread and a pack of red-label snuff only to have her dozen darlings play pretend sleep. Okay, that last one might be slightly true. I have many more thoughts and images about my family’s household. I wonder what it would have been like for me, growing up with a sibling. I almost did, but my younger brother never experienced this world; we never had the chance to play, tattle on one another, or protect one another from the dangers of growing up. So, there was just me and the tender love of my mom. Thank you, God, for gifting me my mom. I just love her so much! Perhaps the other gift was that my little brother, who would have been named Avery, was spared the realities of Jim Crow 2.0 or something far worse-reminiscent of the countless Black men killed senselessly. But I won’t go down that road here; I’ll save that story for another time. Before I go any further God, I hope you know that my prayer is not an indictment of my dad. On the contrary, my parents, who separated while I was very young, reminded me at every turn that although they were no longer together, their love for me was abundant.

My prayer, quite honestly, is my best attempt to extend a bouquet of flowers, preferably roses, to my mom. Too often tributes are offered when the person is no longer with us to know how much they were loved. Today, my mom can smell the sweet scent of each rose, which I hope comes through in these written words. She may not be too communicative now, but I know she can hear me. Just the other day when she wasn’t talking at all, I asked her to squeeze my hand if she could hear me; she squeezed it. That ever-so-slight squeeze was all the assurance I needed to keep writing, to keep talking to her, to sit with her as often as I possibly could. My mom, thankfully, knows I am here-right by her side. She can hear when I play her favorite tunes; she can hear me whisper in her ear, “I love you!” She will hear me when I read this letter to her. A letter that I’ve been writing and re-writing; for every 100 words typed, 101 words were erased. The questions that swirled in my mind like, how much did I want to share? Why am I sharing this now? Will God listen? Of course, He will, I finally told myself. God is listening now. In the end, I made the decision to let the words flow knowing that you don’t care how we come to you. You even said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28 NIV). I am so tired. I feel like my heart is being ripped from me.

For more than 50 years, I’ve watched my mom exude an inordinate amount of strength, more strength than I could ever muster. Growing up, for example, my mom and I lived in a one-bedroom apartment. We could not afford much, but we certainly had the basics. Although raised Baptist, my mom was adamant that I would attend a parochial school. She wanted this schooling for me so much that she would wake before sunrise to travel to work, by train, from one state to another, to make those school tuition payments. I never really understood why, but back then you didn’t question your parents. So, I coerced my friends to ask her if I could attend public school with them. Well, that didn’t go over well. From kindergarten to grade eight, I knew only the color brown and from grades nine to 12, blue adorned my closet. Those were the required parochial school uniform colors, respectively. Having to wake up early to catch the bus from Mount Vernon, NY to New Rochelle, my mom, with her five-foot one-inch self, would walk me down the steps, with a broom in one hand, daring any loiterer to say something to me or her. In truth, I don’t think my mom could really hurt them, but she had and still has the heart of a lion. Looking back now, I think those people respected my mom’s heart. Today, my mom is facing possibly the biggest battle of her life. A two-time breast cancer survivor and my mom’s faith in God has only gotten stronger. Unfortunately, that cancer has returned, and it’s returned with a vengeance.

God, I am not sure whether to be angry with you or grateful to you. Angry that for more than a dozen years I’ve tried everything to get my mom to sell her home and relocate to wherever I lived at the time. Each time I asked her to move, she would give a reason why she could not leave B-more (Baltimore City). It wasn’t until this past summer that my mom while lounging in the reading room, said, “I am ready to move.” I thought I was hearing things because her words were almost too low to fully comprehend. So, I asked her to repeat what she said. Again, she said she was ready to move. Three months later, she moved. On November 12^th, I finally had my mom with me. But, immediately after her arrival, we were assaulted with the news; the cancer returned and spread. Just typing these words, my heart sinks. I must pause to catch my breath. So much anger inside because I feel like you are robbing me of this time. On the other hand, I am deeply grateful to you, God, that my mom is finally here with me. Maybe it was your intention all along that in my mom’s greatest need, I would be able to stay by her side. As she lays in this hospital bed, I wept so loudly. My mom just turned and said, God, has us. She didn’t say, “God has me!” She said, “God has us!” Even in her upcoming fight, she unselfishly thought of me and her entire family. Today, my mom continues to fight. Maybe she is waiting for her siblings, nieces, and nephews to arrive from their respective designations. Maybe she wants to come out of this last fight with a new testimony. I don’t know what the plan is, but what I do know is that I will be with my mom, side by side.

Returning to my opening. Dear God, I ask that you please hold my mom’s hands, wrap her gently near your bosom, comfort her in the midnight hour, and allow her to see her mom’s, my late grandmom’s, angelic face while she rests. If it is your will God, heal my mom’s body and make her whole again. If your plan is something different, please provide peace and comfort to my mom, me, and our entire family. Help me to continue to make her proud, ease the mental and emotional anguish that will undoubtedly follow if you call my mom home, and soothe and lessen the weight of my fractured heart. Finally, and only if you will her home with you, play a few songs for the journey; play her favorite artists including, the soulful sounds of Lena Horne, Mr. Baritone himself, Lou Rawls, and the sweet and rich voice of Dionne Warwick, and yes, even Frank Sinatra. Amen.

Do Not Be Fooled by the Yellow Dress

The tweet.

“So many tweets from ppl leaving the education profession and they are entitled to that choice. I am here to share that I am not leaving edu. I choose to stay not bc I am built differently & do not have moments of struggle, but I simply love what I do. Anyone else choose to stay?”

This was the tweet I posted on March 2^nd, 2022. The response was mixed. So, I want to be clear that this blog is not written to any particular audience as I am sure the response, once again, will be mixed.

I will do my absolute best to not mince my words. In one of my earlier blogs titled, “Maybe the Beginning,” I recount my start in education beginning in 1994 with the Baltimore City Public Schools – the east side to be exact. My first classroom was situated in Thurgood Marshall Middle School. In that blog, I recalled my early struggles, my cries to return home in Mount Vernon, NY, and try my hand at something else, to which my mother, a single parent, readily welcomed as I am her only child and she would have done anything for me to return home. However, I did not return home that year. Instead, a team of seasoned teachers and administrators took me under their wing. I was coached, mentored, and supported throughout that very difficult year and the subsequent early years. I could have very easily walked away. My colleagues, ripe in their wisdom, embraced and pushed me, almost as if they refused to accept Black failure.

In his book, The Fugitive Pedagogy, Dr. Jarvis Givens pens a section with the heading, Resilience as a Descriptive Characteristic of Black Life. In this section, I imagine all those teachers and administrators who refused to adopt a deficit narrative. They would not let me fail nor would they let the students we were charged to serve fail. As Dr. Givens wrote, “they disrupted the single story of Black failure…” (2021, p.148). I wish I could say that during my almost 28-years of experience that that was the only time I wanted to wave the surrender flag and call it quits, but it was not. There were peaks and valleys. Almost three decades in and there are still peaks and valleys, but I am glad I did not walk away.

We desperately need school personnel, inclusive of teachers, paraprofessionals, and administrators, who will go to bat for our students. We need educators and community members who will, by any means necessary, refuse “historical narratives” that portray the Black mind as unwilling and undeserving (Givens, 2021, p.145). So, when I asked, “Who else is staying?” I meant just that. If you left or if you know you need to leave, that is your choice. However, there are those of us who are teetering on the edge, resignation letter written but hesitant to submit to that letter because a fire within them still flames bright to do good work, to counter deficit narratives, and to hold high expectations while situating warmth at the same time.

These are the folks I ask to stay. Not the negative views hiding behind Twitter handles. Not those individuals who attempted to suggest I do not understand the challenges that occur in our classrooms or to attempt to embarrass me by publicly listing my salary, which by the way was incorrect. I want those who insisted that in some way I was sitting on a “jeweled throne,” or better yet, that I was “privileged,” to see me for who I am. As a Black woman who openly and proudly identifies with the LGBTQIA+ community, I have been called many things throughout my life, but privileged was not one. Yes, I can attest that there are some privileges afforded me that others may not yet experience. But please know there are countless times that I am reminded of the container for which folks try to place me in because of the color of my skin. However, I will not allow someone hiding behind a Twitter handle, or anyone else for that matter, to attempt to shame me because I “earn” a six-figure salary. I have put in almost three decades of sweat, time, and tears, and have forgone events with my spouse and children to give as much as I could to the children whose families entrusted me to care for. I will not be bullied or ashamed for what I earn and who I am. Please do not let the yellow dress in my Twitter profile serve as a window into my life. As Khalil Gibran posited so long ago, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” Do not be fooled by the yellow dress as it masks, willingly, the scars endured then and even today.

In the recently published book, Fighting the Good Fight-Narratives of the African American Principalship, I write in my chapter about my first principalship on the west side of Baltimore City. I describe, albeit briefly, how I was assigned to lead a school that was designated as “persistently dangerous” by the Maryland State Department of Education, which in hindsight is a term laden with anti-Black ideology. Being my first time leading a school, I was ill-equipped to lead with an equity lens then and unfortunately adopted a zero-tolerance philosophy of discipline. Because of these pressures imposed by state and federal reform policies, I failed too many students that year by deeming them unworthy of second, third, and fourth chances because I was too caught up in getting off of a list that again put labels – deficit labels – on schools that were predominately filled with Black bodies (Lance, 2021). I have experienced highs and lows. I understand the challenges all of us are facing in our classrooms. I acknowledge we must work together to build a more equitable school system that loves children for who they are regardless of their background and break away from this ridiculous accountability experiment. Most of you probably can say the same. Do not be fooled by the yellow dress-for my pain is deep yet my fire remains lit!

So, when I ask “Who is staying?” I am speaking directly to those who acknowledge where they have failed our children and yet are unwavering in their determination to begin again, in support of our children. I am speaking to those who want to liberate our children, who want to be an abolitionist. “To begin the work of abolitionist teaching and fighting for justice, the idea of mattering is essential in that you must matter enough to yourself, to your students, and to your students’ community to fight” (Love, 2019, p. 2). While I am no longer a classroom teacher, that does not make my fight and struggles less or more than yours. Instead, it means I am still in the arena – fighting like so many others regardless of title or location. Individuals like Gloria Ladson-Billings, Pedro Noguera, Chris Emdin, Bettina Love, Shaun Harper, Tyrone Howard, Dena Simmons, Terri Watson, Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz. Individuals like school administrators, school counselors, bus drivers, cafeteria workers, maintenance staff, school superintendents, board members, and so many others.

The past few days I reflected on the words by my fellow New Yorker, Dr. Chris Emdin. In his most recently published book, Ratchetdemic-Reimaging Academic Success, Dr. Emdin contends,

“For those who choose teaching as a career, their genius is awakened every day of their professional lives. The daily practice of ingenuity, flexibility, creativity, and patience is the formula for awakening genius. For those who once taught, even after they no longer work every day in classrooms, the recognition of and reverence for the genius of teaching allows them to access their genius in their present work” (2021, p. 9).

Finally, I acknowledge that Twitter and all other social media platforms for which I post my thoughts, ideas, and questions, leave me open to criticism. The post from March 2^nd reminded me not only of the ugliness of people who disagree with you, but also of the ability to hurl insults and hide behind those supposed happy thumbs. Yet, I find comfort in knowing that courage and truth, as well as love and support for each other, will always prevail. We must tend to our own seared scars as well as those others are still healing from, and we must build coalitions to help each other, and our children find liberation. I have earned my stripes, and I will keep fighting for a better system for all of our children. Still, do not be fooled by the yellow dress!

-Peace

References

Emdin, C. (2021). Ratchetdemic-Reimagining Academic Success. Beacon Press.

Garvins, J. (2021). Fugitive Pedagogy-Carter G. Woodson and the Art of Black Teaching. Harvard University Press.

Lance, T. (2021). How Does My Social Justice and Equity Experience or View Impact My Ability to Lead as an African American Principal? In I.C. Carrier & A.J. Griffen (Eds.), Fighting the Good Fight-Narratives of the African American Principalship (140). Word and Deed Publishing.

Love, Bettina (2020). We want to do more than survive: Abolitionist teaching and the pursuit of educational freedom. Beacon Press.

You said you’re about equity, but are you really?

Upon my appointment as a school superintendent, more than three-years ago, my family and I relocated from Colorado. Last week, however, I marked my one-year anniversary as the Assistant Superintendent of Equity and Innovation. Although I am not serving in the position that marked my move to Illinois, my steadfast belief in serving and advocating for children and adults who continue to be marginalized is stronger than ever. Perhaps one day I will shed more insight into the decision to leave that post. Regardless of the reason for my professional career move, however, I am reminded constantly that growth is not linear. I hope those of you contemplating similar career moves hear me loud and clear…growth is not linear. #FocusForward

Consequently, I must admit that although I started this new position in the midst of a global pandemic, nothing moved at a snail’s pace. As a matter of fact, I had to hit the ground running not because there were glaring inequities for me to “fix”, but the learning curve was steep. From learning the nuances of a new district to ensuring my work was value added, I tried to remain tempered in my approach as the newest member of the team. Peeling back the layers of any organization to reveal the under belly is never pleasant.

Not sure what led folks to reach out to me, but since my time in this new role, I have been asked to participate on more panels focusing on equity than I can count; some offers I accepted and others I respectfully declined. Due to the number of newly appointed school and district level leaders, the purpose of today’s blog is to share my learnings around diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts. Some of my learnings are a result of personal experiences and others from readings and connecting with other DEI folx in the field. Therefore, school and district leaders, it is my hope that you will consider reading my latest blog to gain insights as you begin or revisit the equity work in your school/district.

Not listed in any order of importance, here are a few considerations:

Strongly Encouraged	Rationale
The appointment must be a cabinet level position	When confronting issues specific to race and equity, it is important that leaders get close to the work. Consequently, when the “equity appointed” person is situated off to the side in another department, leaders tend to forget the intent. It is imperative that your DEI person sit on Cabinet to remove the invisible layers that inadvertently surface between the Superintendent, other senior level leaders, and the work. The proximate level of work allows for increased dialogue, root cause analysis, and long-term problem solving.
Create a direct line to the Superintendent	When the appointed person reports directly to the Superintendent, it communicates that the appointment is not perfunctory and hopefully, the superintendent is committed to hearing and learning first-hand the strengths and opportunities to correct inequities first-hand.
Avoid *Spray and Pray Equity	Professional development sessions that are often provided once will never change deeply entrenched practices and mindsets. Instead, everyone in the organization must spend a considerable amount of time analyzing data, while centering student voice. Student voice will either confirm what the data is telling you or send you down another path that will require second-order change and possibly a change of venue for some adults. Be prepared for both.
Allocate a robust budget	Whether the work includes his/her/their professional learning or to provide resources and support for ongoing equity work, an appointed equity leader should never have to go elsewhere to request monies to do the work. Additionally, a robust budget is one of many ways a district leader can communicate the seriousness to the work.
Refrain from *siloing equity	“Siloing equity leads us to believe that equity is separate from instruction, which is separate from culture, which is separate from every other aspect of student experience and learning” (p.34). The equity officer will and should touch every facet of an organization, including curriculum and instruction, human resources, and special education just to name a few.
Refrain from *tokenizing equity	Refrain from appointing a leader of Color and then leaving that person to be the lone ranger of doing the work. This is even more important in schools and districts that are predominately White. Rather, make sure everyone knows that the work of equity is on the shoulders of every single individual within the organization.

This aforementioned list is not all inclusive, but is a start. I would also suggest that every reader engage in introspection, reflect on your biases and privilege. How have you contributed to unjust practices, intentional or not? Now, what will you do to steer the ship toward justice? These questions are but two that require personal analysis, but might also serve as talking chips within your leadership team. As I shared several tweets ago-you talked about equity in your interview; you even indicated in some fashion that you were committed to equity. Now is the time to put those words to action. No more idleness, standing on the sidelines while Black and Brown folks take the brunt of criticism and endure racial battle fatigue. Hold onto the pole and if you do not know what that means…start here.

I’ll end with an excerpt from Audre Lorde’s book, Your Silence Will Not Protect You, with the hope that the possibility of fear lodged in your throat does not paralyze you to action.

“And of course I am afraid, because the transformation of silence into language and action is an act of self-revelation, and that always seems fraught with danger…if you remain silent, because there’s always that one little piece inside you that wants to be spoken out, and if you keep ignoring it, it gets madder and madder and hotter and hotter, and if you don’t speak it out one day it will just up and punch you in the mouth from the inside” (p.3).

Reference

Safir, S. & Dugan, J. (2021). Street Data-A Next-Generation Model for Equity, Pedagogy, and School Transformation. Thousand Oaks, CA. Corwin and Learning Forward.

Do You Really See Me?

The last time I visited a classroom, where instruction was occurring, was in March. I was overly excited at the prospect of “seeing” students again. So, about two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to visit my first class, albeit virtually, in my new role. Once the teacher “admitted” me, I was instantly dismayed at seeing 20-plus dark squares. The teacher, who must have been slightly embarrassed, asked the students to turn on their video cameras; I shared that it was okay if the students opted not to turn them on. I was a stranger to them. They did not know me, and I did not know them. Fortunately, there were a few video cameras on, including the teacher’s webcam. Awkward? Yes, it was very awkward talking to dark squares and a few inquisitive looks, but I felt strongly that if I just talked about who I was, why I was here, and my enthusiasm for wanting to be with them in that moment, some would turn on their cameras. And, they did. One by one, albeit not all of them, students began to turn their video cameras on. As they turned their cameras on, I thanked them and commented on their smiles and how excited I was to see them. I mentioned nothing about their learning space; instead, I focused intently on just listening. I asked how remote learning was going and what, if anything, we could do as a district to improve their remote learning experience. Although zero students talked to me aloud, several used the chat feature to respond to me privately. Fortunately, the teacher allowed me to serve as a co-host, which enabled students to interact privately, if they chose, with me.

This experience propelled me to write down my thoughts. Do we really need video cameras on? Why? And, for whom? In that moment of visiting that particular teacher’s classroom, I wanted video cameras on. I still want cameras on, but as I reflect on that experience, I am convinced I wanted the video cameras on for selfish reasons. I wanted to see the faces of every single student because I missed seeing students. Period-no fancy excuse and no educational explanation. I have heard and read the arguments that video-cameras on allow teachers to monitor student engagement. How so? The word engagement is ubiquitous and ambiguous. Engagement to you, unless clearly defined, may look entirely different to me. When students were physically present in your classroom, how did you monitor engagement? I assume, although I could be wrong, some teachers monitored engagement through frequent checks for understanding such as: whiteboards, thumbs up, turn and talk, small groups, etc. I posit that these aforementioned checks for understanding are still viable options given the learning platform your district uses. However, by mandating that our students turn their video cameras on, to what extent are we invading their space? I think about the plethora of meetings via Zoom, Go To Meeting, Google Hangout, etc and the countless guests who have entered my home. More than half may have never received an invite had Covid-19 not made its debut because we do not know each other and quite frankly, I just do not invite anyone over to me and my family’s home. Thus, I am intentional about the space I allow folks to see. I can do that. If I want to use a green screen to prevent unwanted guests from entering, I can do that too. If I choose to, I can limit their view to one area that is less intrusive. I bet many of you do the same. Our students may not have the options we have.

Might I also suggest that video cameras on allow for increased surveillance? Consider three separate incidences out of Colorado, Louisiana, and New Jersey where a teacher observed what he/she/they thought was a gun sitting in a student’s learning space. In each case, the students were African American and two of the three students were suspended from school although the “guns” were confirmed to be toy guns (Elfrink, 2020). Without knowing what the teacher actually saw to prompt him/her/they to make the call, I can admit that I might have notified school officials as well; however, this begs the question, what are we paying attention to? A case study out of a North Carolina school system included students’ thoughts on school surveillance, which I apply to classroom surveillance. When students know you are possibly watching their every move and learning space, “it may have the effect of inducing passivity…they are less likely to develop into people who believe they can and do own and control their thoughts and actions” (as cited by Fedders, 2019, p. 1711).

How might we help teachers with the realization that students just might not want to turn on their video cameras yet? We might claim we need cameras on because we do not know if our students are “present” or engaged. Well, newsflash, some of our students were right in front of us before March and were not “engaged.” Let’s consider how “engaged” our students were pre-Covid-19. According to the U.S. Department of Education (2019), the average national reading score for 8^th graders as measured by the 2019 National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) was 262. For the students of Illinois, the scale broke out as follows: White students-274, Black students-246, Latinx students-255, Asian students-290, and for students who identified as having two or more races-263. Notice the disparity? I recognize this is only one measurement, but this disparity shows up in other areas as well. Just four years ago, the number of schools, in Illinois, reported as having extreme, high, or significant chronic student absenteeism stood at more than 2,000 schools (Chang, Bauer, & Byrnes, 2018). Taken further, during the 2018-2019 school year, 31% and 24% of African American and Indigenous students respectfully were chronically absent compared to 13% of White students (ISBE, 2019). Other disparities, when disaggregated further, show up in grade point averages, access to more rigorous and challenging course work, and the like. The point I would illustrate is that let us not tout that cameras on will change the current landscape. Rather, let’s admit we miss our students and we want to see them. I believe this confession may fare better than any mandate requiring students to turn on their video cameras.

A recent post in Edutopia explored the value of a camera-option policy, which was similarly titled (Venet, 2020). Thus, school districts might consider a camera option policy as a viable solution. Without clear expectations, teachers may arbitrarily develop and enforce rules that only harm students. As an example, my high schooler has six teachers and of the six, three teachers deduct points if students do not have their video cameras on. When discussing video cameras during distance learning, one student stated, “My room is my private space. I don’t like having my camera on and people being able to look at it and judge my posters or how messy or clean it is” (Johnson, 2020). Full disclosure, because I believe my children’s teachers and peers might videoscope, we are deliberate about the space they use and what is visible to the “guests”. At one point, I had my oldest daughter sit in front of a row of books where one might infer the types of conversations occurring in our home. These books ranged from, The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America by Richard Rothstein to The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson. Again, we have options and we elect to have our children turn their video-cameras on. I’ll say it again, we have options and therefore, we choose to have our children turn on their video-cameras. If your students turn on their cameras, will you really see them? Will you see them for who they are and the potential they possess? Will the learning and relationship outcomes change for the better?

In closing, how might we, then, reimage teaching and learning in an environment that does not resemble what we’ve grown unaccustomed to? This is the million-dollar question and one that I, like many others, are grappling with. To assist me and perhaps you, I would bring your attention to the Learning Policy Institute. Here, Linda Darling-Hammond and her colleagues provide 10-priorities to guide us as we think about reinventing schools during the time of Covid-19. All 10 are critical, but because I was fortunate to have just led a professional development session on culturally responsive teaching, I encourage teachers and school officials to begin with priorities four and six. These two priorities emphasize providing supports for social and emotional wellness and emphasizing authentic and culturally responsive teaching (Darling-Hammond, L., Schachner, A., & Edgerton, A. K. (with Badrinarayan, A., Cardichon, J., Cookson, P. W., Jr., Griffith, M., Klevan, S., Maier, A., Martinez, M., Melnick, H., Truong, N., Wojcikiewicz, S.), 2020.

I get it. I want to see students as much as the next person, but I also get that this level of intrusiveness does not, in and of itself, revert to positive student outcomes without first creating trusting and inclusive learning environments. Thus, the abdication of a student’s private space is something I believe we should avoid. The loss of freedom and self-expression is something our Black and Brown children know all too well, already.

References

Chang, B. (2018, Septmber). Data Matters: Using Chronic Absence to Accelerate Action for Student Success. Retrieved from Attendance Works: http://www.attendanceworks.org

Darling-Hammond, L., Schachner, A., & Edgerton, A. K. (with Badrinarayan, A., Cardichon, J., Cookson, P. W., Jr., Griffith, M., Klevan, S., Maier, A., Martinez, M., Melnick, H., Truong, N., Wojcikiewicz, S.). (2020). Restarting and reinventing school: Learning in the time of COVID and beyond. Palo Alto, CA: Learning Policy Institute.

Elfrink, T. (2020, September 25). A teacher saw a BB gun in a 9-year-old’s room during online class. He faced expulsion. Retrieved from The Washington Post on: https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2020/09/25/louisiana-student-bbgun-expulsion/

Fedders, B. (2019, September). The Constant and Expanding Classsroom: Surveillance in K-12 Public Schools. North Carolina Law Review, 97(6), 1673+

Johnson, S. (2020, August, 26). On or off? California schools weigh webcam concerns during distance learning. Retrieved from EdSource: https://edsource.org/2020/on-or-off-california-schools-weigh-webcam-concerns-during-distance-learning/638984

Illinois State Department of Education. (2019). Chronic Absenteeism. Retrieved from Illinois Rport Card 2018-2019: http://www.illinoisreportcard.com

U.S. Department of Education, Institute of Education Sciences, National Center for Education Statistics, National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP), 2019 Reading Assessment.

Venet, A. S. (2020, September 24). The Value of a Camera-Optional Policy. Retrieved from Edutopia: http://www.edutopia.org/article/value-camera-optional-policy

It’s Now or Never

My heart aches. My heart has ached for quite some time now. Perhaps the ache is a combination of my personal trials as a Black woman who identifies with the LGBTQ community coupled with the continued senseless killings of Black people at the hands of police. Take the latest headline as an example; the latest headline depicts the most heinous killing, in broad daylight, of Mr. George Floyd by one callous police officer. This despicable murder is not numbing as others may have been; instead, the murder of Mr. George Floyd has sparked a nation-wide rage that is long overdue.

I have witnessed and experienced enough of my own trauma and devastation to last a lifetime. From a virus (Covid-19), that knows no boundaries to the lasting consequences of slavery from over 400-years ago. Yet, today my heart aches more.

Across the country, I see inequities play out in school systems that often leave our children feeling hopeless. Manifested in that hopelessness are often actions some would label as thuggish as several protests have left businesses burned down, workers once again unemployed and incessant violence throughout some of our most segregated communities. I do not promote violence and will not excuse many of the images that I, like you, have observed on television. I also know we, as a Black people, are not the only ones to blame for the damages left behind, but this conversation is for another day. How easy it is to name what you see on television, displayed on the front pages of newspapers, or circulating on social media as thuggish? It is easy to use derogatory names, such as thugs, when blaming one group of people when you cannot relate to the immense pain of a people. Consider the words of the great civil rights’ leader, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who said, “Riots are the voices of the unheard.” Again, I am not purporting that hurt people should hurt people. Yet, how many sat in silence as the inequities piled high?

So, where did this rage come from? I contend this is not a rage from one incident- in particular the killing of Mr. George Floyd. Rather, this rage is a culmination of injustices in every area of a Black person’s life. Consider food insecurities; consider lack to proper health care; consider health disparities, housing disparities, job disparities, transportation disparities, wealth disparities, and education disparities. Consider all of it. When you consider the enormous amount of disparities playing out in every area of one’s life that prevented the opportunity to build and maintain quality of life, perhaps you begin to realize the unheard refused to be unheard any longer.

Where, in actuality, does equality exist aside from words on a paper? Keep pondering. I have not found it yet. Sure, you might say well look at you, Teresa. And, yes, I may have risen to the ranks of a school superintendent and earned three additional initials behind my name, but I can attest none of this mattered when I was asked, in its most subtle and sometimes not subtle form asked, to turn a blind eye to injustice. I could continue to write on this issue alone, but I will save this for another story.

I am happy, albeit tempered, at the outpouring of statements coming from Superintendents and school boards across the country denouncing racism. Those statements alone, however, do not spark action. I am concerned that normality will set in again. The storm will pass and all will revert to normal.

Nevertheless, I am pleading with each of you who may feel so inclined to act. Fight the urge to crawl back into your safe space. Now is the time to fight like hell knowing you will put everything on the line, including yourself. What does this look like in practice? For starters, let me preface by saying I am not an expert on this work. Therefore, I will speak from my readings, prior and current experiences, and downright common sense.

First, if you have issued a statement on behalf of yourself and/or school district, good! That is a good start. Now, go back and re-read your statement. Is it soft around the edges? If it does not actually embed words such as racism, Black, privilege, next steps, then write another statement. Next, continue these series of non-exhaustive steps:

Read books by Black authors. I get that White Fragility is the craze right now, so go ahead and read that too. However, I want you to read books that will challenge your thinking and build your capacity to engage in this work at a much deeper level. Here are a just a few authors and recommended texts to consider:
- James Baldwin- The Fire Next Time
- Prudence L. Carter- Stubborn Roots: Race, Culture, and Inequality in U.S. and South African Schools
- Lisa Delpit-Other People’s Children
- John Diamond & Amanda Lewis (White)-Despite the Best Intentions: How Racial Inequality Thrives in Good Schools
- Geneva Gay- Culturally Responsive Teaching: Theory, Research, & Practice
- Ibram X. Kendi-How to Be an Antiracist
- Gloria Ladson-Billings- The Dreamkeepers: Successful Teachers of African American Children
- Audre Lorde-Your Silence Will Not Protect You
- H. Richard Milner IV- Start Where You Are, But Don’t Stay There: Understanding Diversity, Opportunity Gaps, and Teaching in Today’s Classrooms
- Dr. Beverly Tatum-Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?
Immerse yourself in spaces where you can talk honestly and openly about your learnings with others who are on the journey with you. Include ‘us’ to challenge, affirm, and encourage you on your learning journey.
Share your learnings, including authors and books, with others in your realm of influence.
Review every single district policy for areas of weakness that intentionally or unintentionally perpetuate inequities. Then, challenge your Board to revise them all.
Align fragmented policies and practices that lean adult-centered rather than student-centered.
Make sure ‘we’ are at the table in your decision making process.
Review every curriculum document, including texts. Look for when and how people of Color show up in these places. How often? When? For how long?
Review your hiring practices. If your district is staffed primarily with White folk, regardless of student demographics, ask-how do I actively recruit to diversify staff? Where do I go (ex. HBCUs)? How will I support staff of Color?
Review disciplinary infraction data. Who is referred to the office? Who is suspended? By who? How often? For what? Put a name, better yet, put your name next to every student suspended. Rings differently.
Do your disciplinary policies inadvertently target Black students? (ex. durags vs. leggings)
Examine evaluations and classroom observation data. Is everyone rated proficient yet Black and Brown students are still failing at disproportionate rates?
Examine student tasks. Are they culturally and cognitively challenging for everyone?
Examine your guidance department. Do we appear in pictures around the offices? Are HBCU pennants displayed?

Again, the aforementioned list of actionable steps are not intended to be all-inclusive, but I hope they give you some concrete places to start.

Finally, I am a Black woman, mother, wife, daughter, sister, niece, cousin and friend. These tags mean I am someone and someone’s someone. These past two years of sitting in the superintendent seat have awakened a fire in my spirit that lay dormant for far too long; I imagine an inner unrest. This unrest has stirred in me a desire to do more. From the oppressive behaviors of White people, policies, and practices, the lasting consequences are evident. It is time for everyone to heed the call, move to action, and from where you are, recognize as my pastor so eloquently articulated, receive that your calling is birthed out of crisis. Let’s go!

Maybe the Beginning

The year is 1994. I started my first year of teaching in Baltimore City Public Schools. If you know much about Baltimore City aka Charm City, you know teaching in Baltimore City is not for the faint at heart. Consider Nina Simone’s song, “Baltimore” , where the lyrics read, “Oh, Baltimore, Ain’t it just hard to live?” or Prince’s 2015 collaboration with Eryn Allen Kane and their song also titled, “Baltimore”. In verse one, Prince sings, “We’re tired of the cryin’ and people dyin’.” Neither artist depicted a pretty picture of Charm City. But, I also knew another side of the city. This is a city where my career in education began and thus, I owe much of my strength. Still. there is another side of Baltimore that is not often shared. One in which diversity is its’ strength and a resilient people grow.

Back to my beginning. You see, because I was born in New York, many folks assume I had the thick skin to weather the initial challenges I encountered in the classroom. They were wrong. Sure, I was born and raised in New York, but not Brooklyn or Queens or Harlem where some of the toughest folks I knew were raised. Instead, I was born in Mount Vernon, a small city near the Bronx and a little shy of 35-minutes from Manhattan. I attended parochial schools from kindergarten through high school. And, my mother, albeit a divorcee, sheltered me as much as she could from the ails of our city.

I recall interviewing for my first teaching job while still in my Masters’ program. Because I majored in physical education (PE) and had not yet completed my Masters in Health Education, I was eager to teach PE. When I arrived in Baltimore to tour the school and explore the gymnasium where I would hold court, I was shocked when the principal took me into a real classroom. Honestly, I’m questioning, quietly to myself, what am I suppose to do in here? The principal, with her big smile, said, I am going to have you teach health. So it begins. I started my first year teaching health education to eighth graders. I was clueless. I was prepared to set up the gym; I was comfortable demonstrating techniques for most sports, but terms like differentiation, depth of knowledge, and deficit-thinking were not broad terms used 25-years ago, so I was left figuring this teaching thing out on my own. It did not help that I was also the youngest member on staff, small in stature, and had the word “scared” scrolled across my forehead. It didn’t take long for me to resort to putting students out of my classroom when behavior issues surfaced. I honestly did not know what else to do.

There were so many shocks that first year. the shock of not knowing how to teach Black boys who were taller than me; the shock of teaching Black girls who eyed you with deep suspicion; and then there was the shock of how to respond when your students fight…in front of you. Yes, this was the beginning of the end. So I thought. My classroom was next door to a staff restroom. So, when I was confronted with the first physical altercation between two of my students, I was completely caught of guard. Now, I am no pushover and my mom would attest to the number of altercations I had growing up, but I was a teacher. I am suppose to save the world and my students are fighting. Now what? Once students, not staff, broke up the fight, I quickly went into that staff restroom and cried like a baby. Why was I crying so hard? The altercation and the fact my idealist views of everyone will get along and I will save them from themselves was halted and quite suddenly. So, I did what I knew best at the time. I called my mom and told her I wanted to come home. No, she didn’t tell me to stick it out. Instead, in her sweet and nurturing voice, my mom told me to come on home. I still smile at this thought. I did not go home though. Rather, there were a team of veteran teachers who must have observed my inhibitions and external struggles; they took me under their wing. Their guidance and support were invaluable to me then and to this day, I hold true to the values of team. So, the journey to press through year one of teaching in the heart of East Baltimore City continues.

Beyond the Impasse

On Wednesday, January 20, 2021, two days after honoring the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., we will inaugurate our 46th President of the United States, Mr. Joseph R. Biden. President-Elect Biden’s inauguration continues a long-standing tradition dating back to 1789 with the first President, George Washington, taking office. The inauguration ceremony is met with a great deal of grandeur and celebration. There are, of course, intense security precautions to protect those in attendance, but more importantly, to protect the incoming president. This year, however, the security measures are even greater due to the weeks leading up to this momentous occasion that touted lies of election fraud and culminated with an insurrection that occurred on January 6, 2021. The Insurrection. Who’s culpable in this insurrection? I think and pull up The Impasse of Race Relations, a speech given to the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation by the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who when referencing the “ghetto outbreaks”, quoted poet and author, Victor Hugo. Hugo said, “If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but the one who causes the darkness.” Again, I pose the question, who is culpable? The White Supremacists or the ones who enabled their actions?

Before I proceed, let me preface this by saying that I will make every effort to craft a message that sets aside my personal political affiliations and instead, share why tomorrow is a crucial turning point for America and more importantly share resources you may turn to as you help ease potential fears and anxiety gripping our nation. For school district leaders wrestling with what to write to members of your community and/or staff members, I imagine you are not alone. Politics are most always aligned to one’s beliefs and values. Therefore, tempering your words as not to alienate and offend the losing party is probably a delicate balance. Yet, there is an opportunity to address your community and staff with a written statement, followed by explicit actions, that align to your personal convictions. Convictions that I strongly hope indicate your immense desire to undo a legacy of long-standing ill practices that have stood to harm communities of Color and Black girls and women, more specifically.

Back to a crucial turning point. This presidential election revealed the deep political and racial divide in America from the events in Charlottesville, Virginia to the insurrection at the Capitol in Washington, D.C. When staff and students return to school, they will undoubtedly have mixed emotions. Those who voted for President-Elect Joe Biden and Vice-President Elect Kamala Harris and those who did not will have very different emotions. What’s important is how those feelings show up in front of students. Therefore, I suggest we use the outcome of the 2020 election as a moment to explicitly acknowledge the racial divide in our country and how race and gender intersected before, during, and even after this election outcome.

My children know the work I engage in is specific to addressing inequities, so I think about two questions when I talk to them about the election and its subsequent outcome: What policies and/or practices are Mr. Biden committing to employing to eradicate racial injustices? What prejudices and obstacles did Ms. Kamala Harris have to overcome to stand as the first woman of Color to serve as the Vice-President? I am intentional with engaging my children in these conversations about race and racism because I want them to have an awareness when they see it and the tools to counter it when the effects run counter to how they are being raised. Our district and school leaders’ as well as teachers’ approach might look different from the conversations around race in our home, but the goal should still be the same. Be honest; be kind; and leave space for reflection and dialogue.

There are a few organizations that provide suggestions for how we might engage in these conversations in the classroom. I particularly appreciate how lessons on the website, Facing History and Ourselves asks teachers to provide space for students to reflect on questions that are three-pronged; each question should have responses that poke at the head, heart, and conscience. We would do ourselves a favor if we engage in the same practice. Consider the questions below when thinking about the events leading up to Wednesday’s inauguration before walking into the district office, school, or classroom:

Head: What led to the election of President-Elect, Joe Biden and Vice-President Elect, Kamala Harris? What additional facts or information would you like to have?
Heart: How do you feel about their inauguration? Are there specific events or images that resonate strongly for you?
Conscience: What do you believe was at stake if the presidential election had a different outcome? Would the students you teach agree with your assertion?

Below are just a few of the sites staff might consider when thinking about how to create and embed race conscious lessons in the classroom include:

If you are still struggling with what to say, think of the message you send when you say nothing. As Audre Lorde said, “Your silence will not protect you.” Lorde, in speaking of revolution, also said, “…it is not a one time event. It is becoming always vigilant for the smallest opportunity to make a genuine change…” Considering both of these quotes, I contend that if you are learning to become an anti-racist and you genuinely want to see America change for the better, then start by using your existing platform to create spaces for students and staff to reflect on experiences from the head, heart, and conscious.

Lead boldly; we are all watching.