My Resolve: Supporting Women of Color in Education

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As I previously wrote, I am the white woman I am today because of women of color. One of the primary reasons for this is that I was raised in countries and cultures that valued, honored and actively sought to put women of color in leadership positions, particularly in the church and in community organizations. As a young woman, I thought this was typical but as an adult I understand every place has a unique set of cultural values and norms. When I think about changing the culture of places that don’t value the voices of women, specifically women of color, I am reminded that cultures are dynamic. Although it feels easier said than done, cultures can change through the interactions of people, their ideas, their stories, and even through their conflicts.  

While only 18% of teachers in the US are teachers of color, I maintain hope, that we are making some progress to include more diverse voices in teaching. In Washington state, our Professional Educator Standards boards is developing “Grow your Own” pathways. There are programs like The Martinez Foundation and Educators Rising who are mentoring young people of color into the teaching profession. On a micro-level, there are principals (like mine)  who intentionally recruit teachers who reflect student demographics. At Lincoln, I’m lucky to work with a staff who is racially, linguistically, and culturally diverse. Not only do I learn from these teachers, but our students can see Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Black, Latino, and Pacific Islanders in positions of leadership and authority in our school.

All this to say, in 2017, it’s more important than ever that students of all races see more women of color in teaching.

I know. This isn’t a profound idea nor does this address the problem with the lack of men of color in education (I’ll post about that later!).

As both a solutions and action-oriented person, I realize that if  I want to work with more women of color then I need to do something about it on systems and personal levels. I must support these women as much as possible. I am trying to do this through my leadership at Teachers United, my role as a mentor teacher, and my work with students.

On a systems level: Last year, I led a policy team for Teachers United that researched ways to support beginning educators. One of the primary ways to support beginning teachers of color (TOC) is to create a school culture that is inviting where TOCs feel welcomed and an integral part of the community. This means they are part of teaching and learning. This means seeing these teachers at instructional leaders, not disciplinarians. This means white teachers should work alongside and even step aside for TOCs to lead the work. Read the rest of our policy recs here. These recommendations are a starting point and need to be implemented by districts and schools everywhere. However, if I want them to be adopted elsewhere, then I had better be willing to apply them in my own school.

On a building level: This is where my role as an experienced teacher kicks in. My classroom is always open for a discussion about teaching. I intentionally support three local university teacher prep programs through classroom observations and have informally supported many pre-service teachers. However, in eleven years I’ve only taken on two student teachers. Because I am neurotic about teaching, judgy about who I spend countless hours co-planning with, fearful of screwing kids up, and certain that education is life and death for many of our young people, I want to make sure that I’m ready to give/receive from a student teacher. Increasingly over the last five years, I’ve felt compelled to be more actively support potential TOCs. If I want to see more teachers of color in the classroom, I need to use my classroom to cultivate that. That conviction coupled with the reality of having only so much energy (and the above neurosis), I’m more selective about who I take on as a student teacher. I think I’ve settled on two requirements for my future student teachers: they are students at The Evergreen State College or they are young women of color. Sure this makes me a snob and it’s not like I’m dismissing up and coming white women, but with every potential teacher candidate I think who do I want to work next to in two years? Who do my students need to see in front of them?

The long game: My other scheme to increasing the number of teachers of color, especially young women of color, is a three-pronged “inception” strategy. First, I keep an eye out for young women of color displaying those teacher skills like corralling an unruly table group or carefully and patiently explaining a concept to a partner. I strike up a nonchalant conversation to test the waters. “Have you ever thought about being a teacher because…”  and then we talk about what she wants to do for a career. Stage two entails a shift from subtle hints to explicit statements. “You’d be a great teacher” I throw out there. “Wow, you seemed really comfortable explaining that to the class--you should be a teacher!” I exclaim. “You remind me of Professor X from the Xmen. His pedagogy was on point” (nah, I’ve never said that one). The final stage is constant badgering. This is for the student who isn’t even in my class anymore but whenever I see her in the hallway I make a move with comments:

“Have you figured out what class you’d teach?”

“Do you need a letter of recommendation?”

“What teacher prep program are you applying to next year?”

“Wouldn’t it be great to work together one day?”

I bug the student for the next three years of high school every time I walk by her in the hallway. Does it work? Eh, I have yet to see, but fingers crossedl (to be fair, this is a new strategy and two of my targets just graduated this year!).

This interchangeable white lady can’t do everything to fix the systemic barriers for recruiting women of color. But, I can try to inspire young women of color to be my future colleagues and eventually replace me completely (heeey, retirement, I see you).

Women of Color in Education Should Be the Norm

Ate Josie (pronounced a-taay, meaning “big sister” in Tagalog) had a stern face. She was no-nonsense when it came to Children’s Church at TayTay New Life Christian Fellowship. It was 1987 and we were going to learn about Jesus, come hell or high water. It didn’t matter that we were sweating buckets because the ceiling fan had stopped working.

Ann Chau spent every Saturday night at Harvesters Youth Group actively listening to awkward and dramatic teenagers, her eyes simultaneously empathetic and judging. She always listened.  Trustworthy and loyal, she taught us that compassion for others was more important than popularity. She encouraged our crew of misfit, tri-culture kids from around the world. Ann made me feel valued and through our relationship I realized I wanted to do that for other teens.

Christina Tsu was my youth pastor and the “boss” of my senior year internship at a local church (I was still living in Hong Kong). She counseled me as I decided who my closest friends were and what college I would attend. It was under her leadership that I became self-disciplined, learning how to passionately serve others, and how to listen to God through prayer. She shaped my notions of self-worth and my belief in God. This is the year I realized I wanted to teach high school and not become a nurse (plus body fluids are nasty!).  

These women left a fingerprint on my life. While my exposure to women of color in leadership and education roles is a little nontraditional (I didn’t attend school in the United States),  it has shaped how I viewed women in power. I grew up thinking that women of all colors could be in positions of power and authority while leading their respective communities. This was my norm.

My experience is not the case for many students of color in the United States today. There are systemic reasons for this exclusion that are embedded in our history of institutional racism. Often, educators of color serve in auxiliary roles such as paraeducators, office personnel, or career counselors.  While this is important and without a doubt these educators change lives, only 18% of certificated teachers are of color. With such a low percentage, it is likely that most students will never encounter a teacher of color in their K-12 career.  

Disclaimer: I want to acknowledge that women--particularly women of color--have always been marginalized teachers in society. As mothers, grandmothers, aunties, and sisters, they instill the most important life lessons about the world in their children, grandchildren, and siblings.

Just a couple of weeks ago I lurked in the background of an #EduColor chat titled “Her Struggle, Her Power: Women of Color as Educators.” I felt this chat was one of the most important conversations I’ve joined--not because I actually had anything to say, but because I had everything to learn. A few things stood out to me:

1. Women in teaching deal with a lot of the same crap from a system that doesn’t value them enough. Teaching was one of the first professions open to women in a society that didn’t view us as intelligent or capable (ironic considering we’re the ones educating future generations *Kanye shrug). So now we’ve “proven” ourselves, but we’ve also proven that we will tolerate poor working conditions and mediocre compensation packages.

2. Women of color have it even worse than white women. In addition to being poorly paid, teachers of color aren’t treated the same way their white counterparts are. Often they are disproportionately subject to working with “hard” cases and seen only as disciplinarians rather than instructional experts. Furthermore, in addition to gender discrimination, they face straight up racism from students, parents, colleagues, and the system as a whole!  

3. Women of color in education reach students in a way that interchangeable white ladies need to learn from. I’d argue this is probably my most important takeaway from that Twitter chat. But it’s also the most challenging. I’m still grappling with what this looks like. I don’t think this means you awkwardly pretend you understand the WOC experience or say anything weird about how their race must help them connect with all kids from ____ racial background. Maybe start by reading this article by Christina Torres Under Pressure: Being a Woman of Color in Education. Then, go read the transcript of that Twitter chat and comment here with your own reflection.

I am the white woman I am today because of women of color.

Trumpression: What One Interchangeable White Lady Felt After the Election

The results of election night cast a long, gloomy shadow across my household, my classroom, and my life the past month. Despite the influx of blog posts and Facebook activism, many people (white people *cough, cough) don’t seem to understand why this is a big deal. It’s not enough to point out that it’s concerning to have a leader with no experience in politics, no understanding of American government, or human rights. It’s an understatement to say that I’m angry that we’ve accepted a man who consistently demonstrates misogynistic, racist, xenophobic behaviors and ideals to be our president-elect (I’m not here to argue with you if you don’t agree with those labels).

As a woman his power concerns me because at best we now have a president with a cavalier attitude towards sexual assault who consistently objectifies women’s bodies while insulting their brains. At worst, I have a new president who will work to pass laws that continue to keep me paid poorly and take away my reproductive rights.

As a white woman who cares about my family, I fear for the future of the people I fiercely love--my husband, my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, my biracial nieces and nephews,many of my close friends, and certainly my students.  As a white woman who cares about intersectionality, I believe that “an injustice to one is an injustice to all”. More than ever those of us with societal capital must wake up and use our privileges to fight for those whose rights are threatened or increasingly under attack.

So when I thought about our future and looked out across the sea of black, brown, beige, and white faces the day after the election, I felt panic. I felt fear. I felt rage. And...I felt hopelessness. I suppose I maybe kind sorta feel a tiny bit of the daily terror that many people of color, many LGBQT, or religious minorities face EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I just couldn’t follow the advice of all the well-meaning articles. Tell your students you’ll keep them safe. I can’t keep them safe from being deported. I can’t keep a kid safe when someone is spitting on him or calling him the N-word. Tell your students that many people are frustrated by the economy. Yes, because despite his approval ratings, Obama may actually be the president who actually positively impacted. I think not. I found some solace and support in the advice from Teaching Tolerance, including being honest with your students about potential impact of race and class in society. In the following weeks, I’ve pulled myself off the couch, thrown away the tub of ice cream, tossed my shoulders back and faced my students. I’m embarrassed to admit how much Dave Chapelle, Chris Rock, and SNL nailed it with their election night skit. I don’t feel hopeful, but I do feel resolved.

Now, more than ever white women--especially white educators--need to grow some ovaries and be the allies we know we can be and we need to be. Clearly, we've got some serious problems manifested in the 52-62% of “us” who voted for Trump (that's a blog post for another day). For now, we need to examine our privileges and use what status or voice that provides.

Allyship looks different in 2016 than it did twenty years ago. We need to look to the past for courage but look at the present for direction. There’s a place for marching. There’s a place for demonstrating. There’s a place for donating that hard earned cash to an organization reaching a community I don’t have access to.

In the classroom, I’m determined more than ever to challenge myself to be a culturally responsive ally, who embraces the interchangeable white lady challenge and equips my students to the best of my ability. I regularly ask myself the following questions:

Is my classroom a space where all my students feel safe? Are students reading about contemporary issues that matter in their lives?  Are my students practicing seeing from different points of view? Are we sugarcoating world problems or exploring their complexities and solutions?  How am I developing empathy across racial and cultural differences in my classroom?Am I practicing what I preach?

The Interchangeable White Lady: An Introduction

I don’t know where I first heard the term “interchangeable white lady”. It might have been in a text I read in graduate school or maybe one of my colleagues let it drop during a discussion on cultural competency. Regardless, I remember nodding and laughing as I pictured a smiling, 20-something in her Target cardigan standing in front of a Smartboard. Subsequently, I shook my head thinking about being a young Black or Brown boy who went throughout his day staring at the “same” face over and over and over again.

I was a little surprised to later learn that this term left some of my teaching peers with a bad taste in their mouths.  It held a negative connotation, was weighted with unspoken questions, and bred a sense of resentment.

I’m not a robot. I’m not like all those other women. I’m unique. Why am I being judged by my skin color? Why am I being dismissed because of how I look? Shouldn’t we be treated as individuals? I’ve struggled too! Isn’t it racist to think we all look the same? Isn’t it prejudice to hate me and my class even before I’ve started teaching?

WELCOME TO BEING A PERSON OF COLOR IN AMERICA--ENJOY YOUR BRIEF STAY.

Seriously though,  if you’ve ever had  those thoughts, I’d like to challenge you to reconsider that this phrase “interchangeable white lady” isn’t offensive, it captures a reality.

It captures the day in and day out grind that many students of color experience moving from English to History to Science and throughout their school day. This reality should shape the way that we teach and the way that we prepare new young, white, and female teachers coming into the profession. It also has the potential to shape how we approach hiring qualified and diversified staff.

For me, the term “interchangeable white lady” identifies what I see in the eyes of many of my students at the start of the school year.  It is a name they will likely never call me directly but I can see it in that dull stare...and I hope to change their perspective over the course of the year.

I became an interchangeable white lady back in ‘06.  A recent Master in Teaching graduate, at 24 with an endorsement in Language Arts, I was one of many on the market, looking for a teaching job. On the outside I appeared to be the same as anyone else. Young. Middle Class. And White. I shopped at the typical white lady teacher stores (you know--Target, Kohls, and Banana Republic). That first day of teaching I was scared--was I prepared? Did I have a strong lesson? Would students respect me? Would students like me (yeah, we all say that doesn’t matter but sometimes it does)? My 9th graders were equally afraid--but for each of them, my presence represented something different. I was both loved and hated by my students. I was too mean. I was too soft. I wore ugly Danskos.

The most significant part of realizing that I was an interchangeable white lady was realizing that student perception drives everything. It didn’t really matter if their perceptions are true.  It’s their truth and it shapes whether or not they will learn from you.

New teachers, especially those who are white and female, must come to grips with the fact that they will be perceived as the literal shining face of a system that marginalizes many students, particularly students of color. Effective teacher prep programs or relevant new teacher induction programs should help these teachers explore their own racial and cultural identities so that they are starting from a place of empathy for the experiences of their students before establishing their classroom expectations and routines.

I was fortunate to learn from some of the best in teacher prep at The Evergreen State College (SHOUT OUT!). This program is rooted in understanding the history of American public education. I spent hours and hours reading and writing about identity formation, and specifically explored my own social, cultural, and historical identities. This prepared me to table my own values around education and work ethic, and to focus on building relationships with my students.  

When we--interchangeable white women--enter the teaching profession, particularly if we plan to teach to an ever Brown-er student population, we must seek to understand at least some of the complicated dynamics of our teaching context. And that means, wrapping our heads around the fact that we will be perceived as “them”. That means letting go of the “right” to be perceived as original, unique, or individual.  That means facing the unflattering ways we may be perceived by our students...and then doing something about it.

Being an “interchangeable white lady” is a beautiful challenge.

It’s a challenge to teach in a culturally responsive way based on the students before us.

My girl Emily highlights her identity as an athlete-scholar, using the Oregon Ducks to teach Geometry. Sara sings her way through quadratic equations and derivatives in order to get students to think like mathematicians. Through vocabulary competitions, Cheryl creates a common nerd culture that students buy into. Mary transforms her library into a space where students of all cultures, races, and languages can find a book that reflects their uniques selves.  

It’s a challenge to view our instruction through the lens of traditionally marginalized youth.

Kim devours book after book after book to help her better identify with her students. Monique has students complete perception surveys, sharing how they feel about the class and giving suggestions for what they want to study--and then she goes out and finds readings based on these interests. Jenny uses her Southern charm and resolute determination to win over the most reluctant learner to the magic of Physics. Alissa applies for grant after grant in order to fund special field trips, buy cultural foods or invite guest speakers to make her Spanish class come alive.

It’s a challenge to distinguish ourselves as allies in the fight against institutional racism as we equip young men and women through the power of education.

Sarah loudly demands that her most needy ELL students be scheduled with the most effective teachers. Paige sweats over curriculum to ensure that students are getting the best instructional moves possible and that their voices are a prominent part of each lesson. Cat defended an African-American, special education student who was being physically and verbally abused by a police officer on school grounds.

Being confused for any one of those women is a compliment. If a young man or young woman of color sees me as interchangeable with a less proficient teacher, that’s fine too. I  take that as a challenge to step up my game.

And that’s why I’m okay with being an “interchangeable white lady”.