how we got here

First Person: My local school didn’t teach my son the way I hoped it would. To tackle segregation, we need to talk about that, too

PHOTO: Reena Shah
The author's son.

Nikole Hannah-Jones’s recent New York Times Magazine article, “Choosing a School for My Daughter in a Segregated City,” struck a chord. “This city has made integration the hardest choice,” she writes. Unfortunately, as both a parent and a teacher, I know that is true.

New York City schools are not just segregated by race and class, but also divided by pedagogy — how teaching and learning happens in a classroom. What often goes undiscussed is how how parents from different backgrounds often hold different beliefs about what learning should look like and choose schools accordingly, yet another factor fueling school segregation.

I spent years teaching in schools where most students came from low-income families and were black or Hispanic. I fought against the narrow and sometimes joyless approach to basic skill development that many school officials promoted as the best way to bridge the achievement gap. Even before I was a mother, I often asked myself if I would want my child sitting in my own classroom.

Still, there are pedagogical silos in New York, and the skill-and-drill approach is more prevalent among schools that serve mostly low-income families. As the city begins a few efforts meant to better integrate its schools, families and educators need to talk more about our often starkly different ideas about what makes a school “good.”

When Hannah-Jones and her husband chose P.S. 307, a school outside of their zone, she writes that she was fueled by her desire to play a part in integrating that school economically. She was also influenced by seeing that students there played musical instruments, had access to an advanced science and technology program, and benefitted from the school’s strong leadership.

My own story of choosing a school for my child is complicated and marked by some of the same impulses, though it didn’t work out the same way.

My son attended pre-kindergarten in a school that largely serves low-income students, especially in the upper elementary grades. We started the school year intending for him to remain there as long as our family stayed in the neighborhood. We liked the principal and thought it was important to support our zoned school — that such actions were in line with our ideals.

My child had a warm teacher who he loved, but the classroom environment proved to be a challenge. Though his teacher was aiming for a play-based environment guided by children’s questions, as a new teacher, she understandably struggled to set expectations for children’s behavior, and I wasn’t sure she was getting the support she needed.

The school was also still working out what kind of instruction it wanted to see. While some classrooms, like the science lab, showed signs of active use with meaningful student work on the walls, others showed few signs of what children were actually creating and working on. Looking ahead to kindergarten, I became increasingly concerned about the amount of time such young children spent filling in worksheets, the early introduction of homework, and the school’s preoccupation with testing.

Unlike Hannah-Jones’s description of her daughter during her first year in school, my son was not flourishing. By the spring, he no longer wanted to go to school.

I was torn, because I valued the school’s sense of community, the music program, and the administration’s openness to parents. But for my child, who often had difficulty focusing, the teaching practices weren’t working.

I eventually secured a seat for him at the school where I also ultimately took a job, a decision that left me relieved but also conflicted. Had my son’s experience been more positive, our choice would have been different. But when your child would benefit from a different kind of teaching, what are the right decisions then?

Of course, having the resources and knowledge to even ask this question has become a privilege in New York City, where navigating the system can easily become a full-time job. While many schools talk about their progressive practices, their interpretations range from children deciding on their own units of study to the repetitive skill-and-drill activities used by many large charter networks. Parents are asked to figure out what school environment will be best for their children amid a flurry of conflicting information.

This year, the Department of Education has allowed seven public schools, including the one where I work, to embark on a pilot program that alters admissions to promote integration. The program is a good thing, and has already diversified the incoming kindergarten classes.

These efforts also make it even more important to find ways to talk about what families expect. Some will want more recess. Some want more structure. Some want to take the state tests and others don’t. Some want to see more reading and writing in kindergarten, others find this developmentally inappropriate, and still others are unsure. These differences are shaped by our own experiences in school systems, our aspirations for our children, our backgrounds, and, in some cases, our individual children and their needs, strengths, and challenges.

Other assumptions about what makes a school good are destructive, especially the idea that the affluence of a school’s families can serve as marker of its quality. Hannah-Jones points to a few disturbing ideas voiced by parents who were rezoned from P.S. 8, the wealthy Brooklyn Heights school, to P.S. 307. Several parents seemed to believe that when a school serves poor children, that school is compromised and not as safe — a gross generalization.

Yet, for school integration to be successful, we have to find ways to talk about what does matter: our beliefs about what teaching and learning should look like in our children’s classrooms. We have to be willing to engage in these discussions as parents and educators without feeling defensive about what we believe to be right. We have to decide when advocating for our own child could support other children, and when it is potentially at the expense of other children. Once we learn how to do that, New York will be closer to having more integrated schools.

This post is part of a new series we’re calling How We Got Here, explaining how students and families chose, or ended up at, the schools they did. Interested in contributing? Email us here.

First Person

To close out teacher appreciation week, meet the educators whose voices help shape the education conversation

From designing puzzles to get kids fired up about French to being christened “school mama” by students, teachers go above and beyond to make a difference. Chalkbeat is honored to celebrate Teacher Appreciation week with stories of the innovation, determination, and patience it takes to teach.  
Check out a few of the educator perspectives below and submit your own here.

  1. First Person: When talking about race in classrooms, disagreement is OK — hatred is not by David McGuire, principal at Tindley Accelerated Schools and previously a teacher in Pike Township. McGuire is also a co-founder of a group called Educate ME.  
  2. First Person: What my Bronx students think about passing through scanners at school by Christine Montera, a teacher at East Bronx Academy for the Future in the Bronx. She is also a member of Educators 4 Excellence-New York.  
  3. First Person: What 100 ninth graders told me about why they don’t read by Jarred Amato, High School English teacher and founder of ProjectLITCommunity.
  4. This fourth-grade teacher doesn’t take away recess or use points to manage the class. Instead she’s built a culture of respect by Liz Fitzgerald, a fourth-grade teacher at Sagebrush Elementary and Colorado Teaching Policy fellow.
  5. First Person: Why I decided to come out to my second-grade students by Michael Patrick a second grade teacher at AF North Brooklyn Prep Elementary.
  6. Meet the teacher who helped organize the Women’s March on Denver, a profile of Cheetah McClellan, Lead Math Fellow at Denver Public Schools.
  7. First Person: At my school, we let students group themselves by race to talk about race — and it works, by Dave Mortimer, and educator at Bank Street School for Children.
  8. What Trump’s inauguration means for one undocumented Nashville student-turned-teacher a profile of Carlos Ruiz, a Spanish teacher at STRIVE Prep Excel and Teach for America fellow.
  9. First Person: ‘I was the kid who didn’t speak English’ by Mariangely Solis Cervera, the founding Spanish teacher at Achievement First East Brooklyn High School.
  10. First Person: Why recruiting more men of color isn’t enough to solve our teacher diversity problem by Beau Lancaster, a student advocate at the Harlem Children’s Zone and  Global Kids trainer teaching, writing, and developing a civic engagement and emotional development curriculum.
  11. Sign of the times: Teacher whose classroom-door sign went viral explains his message a profile of Eric Eisenstad, physics and biology teacher at Manhattan Hunter Science High School.
  12. First Person: How teachers should navigate the classroom debate during a polarizing election year  by Kent Willmann, an instructor at the University of Colorado Boulder School of Education. He previously taught high school social studies in Longmont for 32 years.
  13. First Person: I teach students of color, and I see fear every day. Our job now is to model bravery by Rousseau Mieze, a history teacher at Achievement First Bushwick charter middle school.
  14. Pumpkin pie with a side of exhaustion: Why late fall is such a tough time to be a teacher by Amanda Gonzales, a high school special education teacher in Commerce City, Colorado.
  15. This teacher was a ‘class terrorist’ as a child. Now he uses that to understand his students by Andrew Pillow a technology and social issues teacher at KIPP Indy College Prep Middle.
  16. What this teacher learned when her discipline system went awry — for all the right reasons by Trilce Marquez, a fourth-grade teacher at P.S. 11 in Chelsea.
  17. Here’s what one Tennessee teacher will be listening for in Haslam’s State of the State address by Erin Glenn, a U.S. history teacher at East Lake Academy of Fine Arts and Tennessee Educator Fellow with the State Collaborative on Reforming Education.
  18. An earth science teacher talks about the lesson that’s a point of pride — and pain a profile of Cheryl Mosier, a science teacher at Columbine High School.
  19. A national teacher of the year on her most radical teaching practice: trusting kids to handle their bathroom business by Shanna Peeples, secondary English language arts curriculum specialist for Amarillo ISD.
  20. How this teacher went from so nervous her “voice was cracking” to a policy advocate by Jean Russell, a literacy coach at Haverhill Elementary School,  2016 Indiana Teacher of the Year and TeachPlus statewide policy fellow.

First Person

I’m a black man raised on the mistaken idea that education could keep me safe. Here’s what I teach my students in the age of Jordan Edwards

The author, Fredrick Scott Salyers.

This piece is presented in partnership with The Marshall Project

I worry a lot about the students in the high school where I teach. One, in particular, is bright but struggles in class. He rarely ever smiles and he acts out, going so far recently as to threaten another teacher. As a black, male teacher — one of too few in the profession — I feel especially compelled to help this young black man reach his potential. Part of that work is teaching him the dangers that might exist for him, including the police.

The killing of Texas teenager Jordan Edwards proves, though, that it’s not just black boys with behavior issues who are in danger. Jordan — a high school freshman, star athlete and honor student — was shot dead by a police officer last month while leaving a house party. As he rode away from the party in a car driven by his older brother, officers who’d been called to the scene fired multiple rifle rounds at the car. One bullet went through the passenger window, striking Jordan in the head. Murder charges have since been filed against the officer who fired the fatal shot.

It’s a near impossible task to educate black children in a society that constantly interrupts that work with such violence. Still, it’s incumbent on educators like me to guide our students through the moment we’re living in — even when we can’t answer all their questions, and even if we’re sometimes confused ourselves.

I began teaching in 2014, the year the police killings of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and Tamir Rice dominated headlines. The tragedies have piled on, a new one seeming to occur every month since I first stepped into a classroom. I currently teach ninth-graders at a predominantly black charter school in Brooklyn, and I often find myself struggling to make sense of the events for my students.

I’ve shown them clips from popular films like “Selma” and “Fruitvale Station” and prepared lessons on the civil rights movement, and I’ve done my best to ground it all in the subjects I was hired to teach — American history, composition, and college readiness. My hope is that these films will encourage my students to connect today’s police violence to our nation’s history of racial injustice. And, because there are no easy answers, they’ll simply be encouraged by the perseverance of those who came before them.

I can’t help but worry I’m sending them mixed messages, however, teaching them lessons on resistance while also policing their conduct day to day. As an administrator and one of few black male teachers in my school, I’m often charged with disciplining students. I find myself having a familiar talk with many of them: “get good grades,” “respect authority,” “keep your nose clean.”

It’s instruction and advice that can feel pointless when a “good kid” like Jordan Edwards can have his life cut short by those sworn to serve and protect him. Still, I try in hopes that good grades and polite behavior will insulate my students from some of society’s dangers, if not all of them.

The Monday after police killed Edwards, I asked the students in my college readiness class to watch a news clip about the shooting and write out their feelings, or sit in silence and reflect. Many of them were already aware of what happened. I was proud that so many of them were abreast of the news but saddened by their reflections. At just 14 and 15 years old, many of them have already come to accept deaths like Jordan’s as the norm, and readily expect that any one of them could be next. “Will this police officer even be fired?” one asked. “Was the cop white?”

The young man I worry about the most was more talkative than usual that day. During the class discussion, he shared his guilt of being the only one of his friends who “made it” — making it meaning being alive, still, and free. The guilt sometimes cripples him, he said, and high-profile police killings like Jordan’s compound that guilt with a feeling of hopelessness. They make him think he will die in the streets one way or another.

I didn’t know what to say then, and I still don’t have a response for him. I’ve always taught students that earning an education might exempt them from the perils of being black in America, or at least give them a chance at something more. I was raised on that notion and believed it so much that I became an educator. But deaths like Jordan’s leave me choking on the reality that nothing I can teach will shield my students from becoming the next hashtag.

In lieu of protection, I offer what I can. I provide a space for my students to express their feelings. I offer love and consideration in our day-to-day interactions and do my best to make them feel seen and, hopefully, safe for a few hours each day.

Fredrick Scott Salyers teaches at a charter high school in Brooklyn. He began his career in education as a resident director at Morehouse College. Find more of his work here.