Telling the Difficult Stories

Infants and toddlers who are victims of incest.

Women who are sold into slavery in our nation’s cities and small towns, seeing their bodies repeatedly violated, day in and day out.

Children traded on the streets of our cities for their addicted mother’s next high.

These are some of the stories that frequently go untold in our country – and beyond.

But why does this silence exist?

Often, the stories are difficult to document. The people involved are elusive, afraid to speak out or unable to do so.

At other times, those who probably should tell these stories can’t quite seem to get their hearts and minds around the details. They know that the stories need to be told, but don’t feel that they have the energy to allow themselves to be immersed in them. To look, honestly, at some of the darkest elements of humanity is a painful, draining process – and one that may call us to make changes or take risks we are not yet ready to make.

In other cases, people willing to speak such difficult truths find there is no audience for their stories. Many people do not want to be challenged – to have their notion of what can and does happen in America changed. Because, after all, if we allow such things to happen in our country, what does that say about all of us? What does it say about our leaders? What kind of people are we?

It is difficult to look at some of our nation’s most haunting issues honestly -- to rip back the curtain of supposedly polite, civil society and see who we are at our ugliest.

But these are stories that need to be told – however uncomfortable they make us and however difficult it might be to move toward change.

These are some of the stories that the Institute for Educational and Social Justice is here to tell. As difficult as they may be to share and to hear we must continue to use our voices.

What stories will you dare to tell? Why do they matter? Where do you go from here?

Raul

Raul* walks into my community college classroom with a certain swagger.

Most days, he is in sagging pants and has multiple oversized gold medallions around his neck – the kind of gear made popular, often, by hip-hop stars.

His look has the effect of making some faculty a bit nervous – and even some of his fellow students, who lean more to cowboy boots, Abercrombie t-shirts or preppy plaid, seem a bit uncomfortable with him, initially.

But the way that Raul presents himself and the way that he is at heart are two different people. When you spend a few minutes with him, you learn that he writes beautiful poetry. That he can hold his own in debates about everything from the Federal Reserve to the recession to censorship. And that the writings of Jonathan Kozol bring tears to his eyes.

One day this week, I had the chance to ask Raul about his clothing. “Why the hip-hop look?” I asked Raul, an aspiring teacher. “It doesn’t quite seem to fit the person you are now or the person you are becoming.”

“Because the people in my neighborhood aren’t ready for the person that I am becoming – or the person I am now. And that wouldn’t just be inconvenient or uncomfortable – that is the kind of thing, with gangs and everything, that could mean my life. I bet you’d do the same thing, if you were me.”

And really, I think Raul is right – I probably would. Most of us probably would, really.

Eventually, I imagine that Raul will move beyond the code switching that he feels he has to do to survive as he transitions each day from college to his neighborhood, where dropout and violence rates are sky high.

He’s determined to become a teacher and wants to inspire low-income kids to write poetry, to read classic literature – to reach for more than what they see in front of them.

But until he can comfortably make the transition, he will understandably live, in part, by the code of the streets. And it will be the responsibility of me – and others like me – to see beyond his street persona and to treat him like the scholar and the leader that he is.

*Names have been changed.

Parents Care

The following is a reprint of a previously-published post. Enjoy! We'll be back with new content next Monday.

“The parents at this school just don’t care about their kids.”

This is a statement we at the Institute for Educational and Social Justice hear quite often.

Sometimes, the comment is made by frustrated teachers, who want to see discipline and academic enrichment happening at home.

At other times, the statement is made by downtrodden school administrators, who struggle to get parent-based programs like PTA and booster organizations off the ground.

And in other cases, we have heard the statement made by parents who devote scores of hours to the school, while the parents around them remain absent.

But while we have heard many people accuse other parents of not caring, we have never once found a mother or father who would say, “No, I don’t care about my child.”

Instead, those parents accused of apathy often speak with great passion about how much they love their children, and how much hope they have that their children will succeed in ways they themselves have not. Almost always, they view a quality public education, including a high school diploma, as the ticket to future success.

So, why this disconnect between what some parents say about their parenting priorities and how they seem to behave?

It could be, in some cases, that we are insisting that parents serve public schools in ways that meet our needs – but do little to meet the true needs of the parents and their families.

In public schools, it seems, we are quick to ask parents to donate their time to raise money, or to help run a special event like a festival or fun run. Often, we love the PTA parents, who tend to view the school positively – in part because their own school experiences were probably positive.

But how often do we welcome the parents who have questions – who want to know why things are the way they are? Who think that maybe certain policies need to change because they are unfair, or discriminatory, or just plain don’t make sense?

And how often do we tell parents that they are to be their child’s first teacher – to help them with homework, to boost their lagging reading skills, or to support them in their math classes – but then do not take the time to ensure that the parents know what this should look like, or to help the parent acquire the skills needed to effectively help their children?

Parents care. They care deeply. We just need to figure out ways to reach them where they are and to help meet their needs in ways that matter.

Parents and Students Get Potty-Mouthed

Get to know students and parents in most communities well enough, and pretty soon someone will go and get potty-mouthed.

We don’t say this to mean they sprinkle their conversations with expletives.

Actually, what we mean is quite literal – the conversation turns to talk of toilets, bathroomstalls and sinks.

Few things make parents and students more frustrated, it has been our experience, than bathrooms that are unclean, dangerous, covered in graffiti, or smelly.

Institute co-director Monique Henderson, when working as a newspaper reporter in Mississippi and California, regularly received phone calls from parents complaining about bathroom conditions. And principals have even lost their jobs in some cases after community frustration with the condition of bathrooms became too intense.

That is why this article about a principal who removed the doors of the girls’ bathroom stalls after unsuccessfully battling graffiti, is interesting.

The incident garnered national attention after a group of parents complained at a board meeting that their children’s right to privacy was violated by the principal’s removal of the stall doors. (The door was left on one stall in both the boys’ and girls’ bathrooms.)

The parents who complained were likely happy to learn that the stall doors were returned – after students successfully went a week without vandalizing the bathrooms.

Why does this story matter? And why are parents and students so likely to become upset by bathrooms that are dirty or otherwise substandard?

We believe that something negative does, indeed, happen to the psyche of young people when they are repeatedly placed in places that are ugly, unappealing or otherwise demoralizing. In time, students forced to use the bathroom in foul conditions get the message that they are unworthy of a place that is clean, well stocked and safe. And that begins to take its toll, causing students to feel that the bathrooms are, somehow, a reflection of them.

At the same time, we know that students across this country are guilty of vandalizing bathrooms. They have been known to flood bathrooms by stopping up sinks and toilets, wasting toilet paper, and covering the walls with graffiti, among other things.

What have you seen in your community? Do school bathrooms matter? Have you seen a school that does a good job of keeping bathrooms clean and battling bathroom vandalism? What do you think should be done?

Cuts to Summer Programs: About More than Childcare

With the school year winding down in schools across the nation, parents and families are now left to answer an important question: How will they keep the children in their lives occupied for the next 10 weeks or so?

Parents and grandparents relying on summer programs, including those typically operated by cities and school districts, may be in for a rude awakening.

Many school districts have eliminated or dramatically scaled back summer school this year. In some cases, programs that were once open to all students are now only available to youngsters who are behind one grade level or more.

City-run summer programs, which have long been a safe place for youngsters and also a primary employer for many teens, also are being slashed as part of efforts to deal with budget shortfalls.

Middle and upper class families are less likely to be affected by such cuts, either because they never used such programs or because if they did, their disposable income makes it possible for them to take advantage of other options.

We already know that how young people spend their summers matters.

According to information from Johns Hopkins University’s Center for Summer Learning,

middle-income students typically experience slight gains in reading performance during the summer, while low-income students generally experience a summer learning loss of about two months in reading.

Many low-income students also lose ground in math, dropping more than 2.5 months of grade level equivalency during the summer.

These summer losses are believed to contribute to the achievement gap that exists between low-income students and their more affluent peers.

This is because research shows both low-income and middle-income students seem to gain ground at similar rates during the school year, but then low income students post summer learning losses during the elementary years, while middle class children often make moderate gains.

The elimination of summer school and summer youth programs is certainly a childcare issue for many. But we shouldn’t kid ourselves: It’s also an important academic issue as well, and cuts now could lead to a broader achievement gap between our most affluent and poorest children later.

Leaders who make the decision to cut such programs should be aware of these implications and not take their decisions lightly.