On the State of Education, Part 5: Schooling as Social Justice
The first thing we need to do is reimagine the purpose, intent, mission, culture, structure, and curriculum of education in the United States. To use construction parlance, we must tear the system down to its studs. Then, we must tear those down too, jackhammer the foundation, and start fresh. We must be progressive rather than regressive or stagnant; learn from the past, be in the moment, and look to the future; and put the well-being of our students – ALL students – and their families and communities, indeed all people, at the forefront of everything we do. It’s not about “social justice in education.” It’s education as social justice.
There are several interpretations of “social justice” out there. For the purposes of this discussion, I’m going to use the one heavily researched and put forth by the Australian Department of Health in their “Facilitator’s Guide to Working with Young People.” According to this guide, the first principle of social justice is equity. Before we really get into it, it is important to understand the difference between equity and equality. Equality is the equal distribution of something regardless of context, while equity is distribution based on need. We need equal rights, representation, respect, protection, and opportunity for all people, while we need equitable distribution of educational, intellectual, economic, and social resources. In education, as in nearly every other social and political context in the United States, the distribution of resources is inequitable, often delineated along racial lines. According to a 2012 Stanford University study, predominantly White schools and school districts in the country’s two largest school systems (California and New York) are provided with 3 times the number of qualified teachers and resources as predominantly Black schools. This type of inequity needs to be solved at the policy level; the current “incentives” for teachers to work in high-need schools are not working as they are and are also being eroded by people like Betsy DeVos. One way for us to begin to effect policy change is to vote.
Like all the best words in the English language, though, equity also has another definition, pertaining to having something invested. For example, I might have equity in a house or in a business…or a student might be given some equity in their education. This type of equity is a vital component in the present and future of learning. For an endeavor to truly thrive, the stakeholders must feel like they have some say; they need to feel like they’ve “bought in” by choice (as opposed to being forced or coerced), like they have something invested in the outcome: They need to have equity. We see the importance of buy-in in sports and in business, both through the success stories and willful buy-in of a culture, and by the stories of forced or coerced participation in a broken culture. In education, we must not only equitably distribute resources – money, quality teachers and administrators that get paid righteously, as well as social, healthcare, and community support – but we must also share the reins with students by asking what they want out of their education. Give them a say, allow them to co-create. Ask them what is important to them, what interests and inspires them, what stokes the fires of their intellectual, social, and creative passions and then use that information to take action. This will encourage and empower the investment of students’ personal resources in their own developmental process because they desire it and are inspired, rather than because they don’t have a choice. We are seeing students speak up, young people lead movements for change, and we must heed their perspectives and voices; nowhere is this concept of equity clearer than in the leadership of, and vast participation in, movements for social change.
Equity alone isn’t enough, however, because even if they are inspired, many people can’t get a quality education. Access is determined by socioeconomics (which closely parallels racial lines) and by heavily discriminatory policy and hardwired systemic injustice. In today’s social justice conversations, education is in fact a prominent topic. But improving access to education goes beyond the admittedly important endeavors of building schools and shifting resources around, changing racist districting policies (redlining), or increasing funding; we have to LIVE through social justice ideals. This means we need to found our new system on the belief that every student is deserving of a quality education, social support, mental health care, access to quality teachers, coaches, and staff, and protection from bullying, regardless of their background or culture or lifestyle or any other socially constructed criteria.
Ready access to these basic human rights cannot be limited to just the students that “fit the mold.” We need to design our educational spaces to be accessible – socially, financially, emotionally, developmentally, and intellectually – for all students. We have to accept that it is our social responsibility to make sure they can have that access, and we have to work together as communities to “design and continually perfect our institutions as tools for personal and social development.” This means breaking from the oppressive, violent, and disingenuous American status quo, which is a big challenge. However, I don’t think its hyperbole to say that the future of humanity depends on how we empower our children to effect positive change in the world. The kids for whom the system works are not the only ones who need that power.
Access doesn’t just mean “access to education.” It also means access to the people who create educational and social policy. As with many other social issues, educational policymaking has become politicized. In order to accomplish a paradigm shift, there has to be discourse; in order for there to be real discourse, we have to stop pushing innovators, community leaders, progressive thinkers, humanists, and people with “unconventional” ideas out of the mainstream conversation. Policymakers have to open their minds and hearts to the people who will actually have to live with the decisions that they make; if they won’t, it is our responsibility to force or vote them from office. Unfortunately, politics in America are mostly about achieving and then keeping power, and this is one of the reasons that voter suppression is such a widespread practice, especially in communities of color. If the oppressed and disenfranchised had the same access to the voting booth that White people have, the political landscape would look much different than it does today.
Educational access is directly tied to access to the democratic process, and this is also part of the fight to rebuild education. Since the top priority for many of those in power to keep it, and because the system berates “troublemakers” who would dare to suggest upsetting the status quo, politicians and policymakers tend to be very risk averse. But think about the people throughout history who HAVE taken risks: FDR’s controversial – and innovative – new deal pulled this country out of the Great Depression. Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison for his beliefs in equality and human rights, then was elected the first president in post-Apartheid South Africa. Shirley Chisolm was the first African-American woman elected to congress, was a founding member of both the Congressional Black Caucus and the Congressional Women’s Caucus, and was the first black candidate for a major party’s presidential nomination during a time of deep racial and gender divides, a time in which we again – or still – find ourselves today.
These people have a few things in common: They all rose to meet seemingly intractable challenges. They took huge risks in standing up for their beliefs, and they succeeded. They were all, just like the rest of us, human. And they did not work alone. It might not be in my future to be an FDR or a Mandela; you might not be the next Shirley Chisolm or Mother Teresa. We are told that one person can change the world, and in the rare cases of extraordinary people, it’s true. But most of us aren’t superheroes; that doesn’t mean we can’t come together to be super as a collective that is more than the sum of its parts. Participation is critical in any social justice enterprise, and not just the participation of the privileged class.
Participation means everyone. We are seeing it in the streets now; the fight belongs to everyone because equality doesn’t leave anyone out. Access to human rights, including education, is not just material; it is also emotional, intellectual, cultural, and social. You may be saying, “Aaron, you’re talking about getting politicians to care, don’t be so naïve,” and maybe you’re right. But right now in cities across this country and the world, people are coming together – in the middle of a worldwide public health emergency! – to not only stand up, speak out, march and fight, but also to force real change in systems, including education, that are deeply rooted in, and dependent on, racial and socioeconomic injustice.
Common Humanity
Although the Black Lives Matter movement didn’t start with the murder of George Floyd by a representative of The System, what we are seeing now is a collective buy-in and force of will that appears to finally be forcing the policymakers to listen and act (and I don’t want to diminish those few in positions of power who I think really believe in change. We need more of them). Black communities have equity in this fight, and in these changes; the thing is, so do White people, because until all people are free, no one is truly free, and the systems that so benefit people like me are nothing more than lies. We are all human beings, and we must see that we have what is called “unity of purpose” because we are all human, and the task required is required of all of us. Those of us who believe in human rights choose the task freely in whatever way we can take it on, with all of its discomfort and ugly truths, righteous anger and bitter tears, with all of its love and hope and compassion. Change requires the participation of everyone who has equity in the system; we are seeing now that if that system doesn’t give permission for equal participation, people will take it anyway.
We are more than the sum of our parts, and that free choice, undeniability, collective courage, galvanized will, and organization is what it will take to make the kind of change that our educational system requires. FDR, Mandela, Chisolm, and others like them throughout history had a massive boulder to push up a very tall hill; what made it possible is that they were undaunted by the task, had a sense of urgency, and had a shared vision with the people who believed in what they represented and sought to accomplish. In order to break the cycle and maybe give the boulder a resting place, we all must be those people in the fight for social justice, in education and in all arenas where inequality and inequity exist. That is what participation means to me.
But who gets to be on team Sisyphus? Who gets to help push the boulder to the mountaintop? There can only be one answer: Everyone does. Equal Rights in education are the same as equal rights in politics and business, health care, citizenship, daily life, and everywhere else. As a society, we like to get very slippery about our interpretation of “who deserves what.” It is the question at the center of just about every social and political conversation and at the center of today’s movement for freedom, despite some fancy language and the words and actions of many dissembling or outright terrible politicians. Education is no different. Despite all of our gesticulation and moral acrobatics, the truth is simple: Equal rights are human rights.
Action
So, what can we really do in the face of such a huge task? We have to listen to each other, and we have to listen to the people who have the most human, intellectual, social, and emotional capital invested in the educational system: Students and teachers. We also have to be willing and courageous enough to step together into the unknown; what would it be like to have the humility to accept that we haven’t done a good job so far and that we’re not doing a great job right now? To view education a different way, to structure the system a different way with new priorities? What would it be like to abandon the conflict-based, capitalist model and build education based on common humanity, compassion, self-determination, creativity, truth, and hope? We must swim in the existential; we must also act in the practical.
To that end, we MUST exercise our constitutional responsibilities, specifically those of free speech, assembly, and the right to petition the government – including local and state – for a redress of grievances, and to vote. I say responsibilities rather than rights because if we really want change – and we should – we can’t sit back and count on hopes and prayers and “someone else” to make it happen. No one in power, no matter how well-intended, will move the needle without the mandate of the people. This is true across all systems; education is no exception. Democracy as we know it is in itself a deeply flawed system, but that’s for another day; it is also a powerful tool, and like any tool, it is our responsibility to use it wisely and for good. Education is but one system that needs radical (and rational) transformation, and we must be the ones to make that happen, each in our own small way and collectively in service of a righteous, compassionate, equitable and balanced future. Thanks for reading, I appreciate you.
Originally published on June 20, 2020