First Person

Polls convinced me Hillary Clinton wouldn’t lose. As an education researcher, the result was a wake-up call

PHOTO: Creative Commons / Neon Tommy
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Like a lot of Americans, I watched the election returns in shocked disbelief. All of the major polls had offered me confidence in a Hillary Clinton victory.

But while I was surprised by the results, I should not have been. I study school segregation, and my research has taught me one thing over and over: numbers alone are not enough.

To get an accurate understanding of situations, qualitative researchers like me believe that we must talk to humans. We must be out in the field forming respectful relationships, conducting ethnography and in-depth interviews. This effort to understand people’s lives and circumstances, interactions, beliefs, and social processes is important so that researchers — often ensconced with like-minded individuals and within liberal cities and universities — don’t miss what is actually happening on the ground.

I’ve seen the importance of this time and again in my own work. When conducting research for my book, “Public Housing and School Choice in a Gentrified City,” I wanted to understand why some groups opted out of their neighborhood school while others did not. To do that, I had to be deeply embedded in the community, talking to people about their complicated feelings about race and class and schooling.

If I had conducted a survey with questions about parents’ desire for “diversity” in their children’s schools, the results would have been misleading at best, since people use that word in so many different ways.

As I work to understand school segregation, I’ve also seen how the constant reliance on test scores to describe schools can alter the schools themselves and affect people’s choices. I have found that while advantaged parents in gentrifying communities would like to send their children to schools with “good” test scores, they also do not want their children in schools that are explicitly test-centered. This puts administrators of schools that must improve test scores in a bind and can reduce opportunities for integration.

Yet in education, we continue to place great value in numbers to judge the quality of schools, teachers, and student learning. We discount other factors and make decisions about teacher tenure, merit pay, the creation of charter schools, and school closings based on these flawed measures. Parents leave cities, buy real estate in certain communities, and select schools based on numerical school rankings.

We do that because numbers are powerful in their ability to convince us that they represent the truth.

That’s what happened to me this election cycle, when the poll numbers lulled me into missing the whole story. My parents had reported to me that wealthy, well-educated friends from their country club in the swing-state of Ohio, where I grew up, were Trump supporters. I heard about large parts of North Carolina, Ohio, and Pennsylvania with nothing to see but Trump yard signs; of Catholic-educated, one-issue voters from my childhood parish choosing Trump; and of a friend whose black grandson and his roommates were for Trump, too.

I paid this no attention. The numbers were very clear.

I don’t share these anecdotes to imply that they were valid research findings. But they do remind me how much qualitative research, done in a systematic, neutral way, might have contributed to the conversation before the election.

Pollsters, pundits, and I placed too much value on numbers alone while discounting the nuanced feelings on the ground in parts of middle America. We failed to explore this dynamic and how it could result in a Trump victory.

We can’t lose sight of this truth as it connects to education research. We must do our best to create new ways to understand school, teacher, and student success that are not oversimplified or misleading, and then advocate for their use.

We also need to support the work that gets us there. In education research, grants are far more lucrative and jobs far more plentiful for those who use quantitative methods. That data, when used well, has real value. But qualitative research cannot be overlooked.

Qualitative data is often wrongly disparaged for its alleged subjectivity, lack of reliability, or its cost. I would argue that the over-reliance on quantitative data in this election proved incredibly costly. Let’s not make the same mistake in education.

Molly Vollman Makris is assistant professor of urban studies at CUNY’s Guttman Community College. She holds a doctorate in urban systems and is the author of “Public Housing and School Choice in a Gentrified City: Youth Experiences of Uneven Opportunity.”

First Person

My students are worried about their families being deported. Here’s what I stopped world history class to tell them

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Queens, New York is an exciting place to teach world history. The borough is known for its diversity, and more than 1 million of its residents were born in a different country. The world’s history is the story of cultures represented right in my class.

That diversity is also why I knew my high-school students would have more than a mild curiosity about President-elect Donald Trump’s stance on immigration. According to the Migration Policy Institute, as many as 232,000 residents of the borough could be undocumented. More than 15,000 of them are children.

So, last week, I finished our lesson a few minutes early and asked my students a question. “Who here is concerned that someone they love will be forced to return to a home country under President Trump?” More than half of my students raised their hands.

I have read about what Trump has said he intends to do with regard to undocumented immigrants in this country — plans that have honestly left me disturbed. But I’m also aware that, when fear is pervasive, a well-timed lesson can be a calming force for students who are feeling anxious about what may happen to them.

So I did some research. My plan is to return to the topic in a few days with a brief lecture about what could occur to undocumented persons under a Trump presidency.

Raising this topic in a world history class may seem a bit incongruent. But part of my responsibility as a teacher is to make sure students feel safe and valued in my class. So I’ve decided that sharing some basic facts that are important for understanding this topic is a good place to start.

The first set of facts will be designed to assuage some fears. I think it’s a good idea to inform students about the extent to which New York City, like many cities across the country, has committed to making their families safe from deportation. The truth is that the city government has a three-decade-long tradition of making New York a sanctuary for undocumented people.

I’ll tell them that New York’s status as a “sanctuary city” began back in 1989, when Mayor Ed Koch signed Executive Order 124. That expressly forbade most city employees from telling the federal government if they suspected someone was in the United States illegally. That was enforced by mayors Dinkins and, surprisingly, Giuliani.

That order was ultimately struck down, but Mayor Bloomberg issued his own executive orders establishing a policy where most city employees cannot ask about an immigrant’s legal status or disclose someone’s documentation status under most circumstances. And it is important for my students to know that the exceptions to those policies pertain to undocumented people who are suspected of breaking the law.

In 2014, our current mayor, Bill de Blasio, signed two bills into law which promised even less cooperation with federal authorities seeking to remove undocumented city residents. In 2015, federal officials asked the city to detain under 1,000 people who were already in jail. The city transferred fewer than 220 to federal custody — less than one-tenth of 1 percent of the city’s estimated 500,000 undocumented residents.

I’m not inclined to leave my students with a false sense of safety, though. That would be irresponsible.

The truth is, if they live in communities where there are a lot of arrests, and Trump follows through with some of his campaign promises, then there is a greater likelihood that more deportations will occur. If he triples the number of ICE field officers in the U.S. and ends the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, which grants a path to residency for people who grew up without documentation, the chance that my students will be affected will increase.

But facts don’t always have to represent good news in order to make a young person feel more secure. Young adults just don’t work that way. That’s why I will be sharing this information as well.

I will also tell them they do not need to face their concerns in isolation. Seeking out other people and organizations who handle this issue can be incredibly empowering. The New York State Youth Leadership Council is a great place for students to start.

The truth is no one knows whether Trump’s campaign promises will become reality. I also know that one teacher in one classroom isn’t going to do much to combat the reality that undocumented young people already live with real fear. But as we combat the “Trump effect,” facts can be helpful antidotes.

John Giambalvo is a social studies teacher at Information Technology High School in Long Island City, Queens. 

First Person

My education career has focused on poor students of color. Why I’m rethinking that in the wake of Trump’s election

PHOTO: Alan Petersime
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I grew up in a low-income, abusive household in Chicago. My teachers encouraged me to find my way out through college, and I reacted by taking school seriously — almost too seriously.

Once I got to college, I worked my butt off to land a job in investment banking, satisfying a need for prestige and security. I spent the next few years building complex financial models to help one mega-corporation swallow another, and made enough money to wipe out my college debt. I was also exhausted to the core and unfulfilled by my work. So I quit, opting instead to help young people from circumstances similar to mine. I applied to Teach for America, and was soon teaching math at an alternative high school in New York City.

There, I was focused on improving the achievement of black and Hispanic students, a cause Teach for America is devoted to. I’m thankful for that focus. Its teachers, and so many others, do the kind of life-saving work that helped me get to college years ago.

The results of the election, though, have me thinking about how complicated our American ecosystem really is — and whether our focus within improving education has been a bit short-sighted.

Throughout his campaign for president, Donald Trump spoke against inclusion and acceptance, the very things that make America great. He promised to erect a wall, deport immigrants, and force Muslims to register in a national database. He went out of his way to insult women. He was endorsed by David Duke and said nothing of it.

It’s also true that voters identified by exit polls as “white without a college degree” helped Donald Trump win the election and become the next president of the United States. A whopping 67 percent of them voted for Trump.

I think we can understand this in two ways. One is that it’s unrealistic to expect rural white Americans to weather the status quo as they suffer the effects of globalization. The other is institutionalized and systemic racism.

Education is one way to address both. And so, if America continues to fail to provide everyone with an equitable education — one that puts them on the pathway to economic prosperity — we all lose. People of color like me are likely to lose the most.

That doesn’t make the choices ahead of us any less complicated. Allocating resources for one group often results in unintended consequences for others. I also know that we can’t let up in our efforts to help students of color, who need us to continue to push for college and career initiatives aimed at bridging gaps created by generations of racist policies.

But we should simultaneously redouble our efforts to improve educational opportunity for rural, disenfranchised whites. When I attended Teach for America’s 25th anniversary summit in Washington D.C. last year, I attended a session called, “What is the Role of White Leaders on the Path to Educational Equity?” This certainly needs to be talked about. It’s also important to recognize that when we talk about being white in education, we tend to assume it’s a position of power. That privilege is real, but so are the limited opportunities for higher education and a sustaining career for plenty of white Americans.

Franklin D. Roosevelt said, “Democracy cannot succeed unless those who express their choice are prepared to choose wisely. The real safeguard of democracy, therefore, is education.” Our job now is to make sure that every American child has access to the best one.

Abbas Manjee is the chief academic officer at Kiddom, a platform that helps teachers design personalized learning experiences.