Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
DOI 10.1007/s11256-014-0299-0
Seeing What They Want to See: Racism and Leadership
Development in Urban Schools
Christopher B. Knaus
Published online: 14 August 2014
Springer Science+Business Media New York 2014
Abstract This critical race theory (CRT)-framed qualitative study (n = 9)
examined racism within a context of urban teacher leadership development. A series
of semi-structured interviews were conducted with three White principals, who each
identified one White and one African American teacher as ‘‘most promising’’
leadership potential. These teachers were interviewed, leading to analysis of principal support and teacher perceptions of being supported. The findings clarify
principals who adopted a language of equity, while simultaneously arguing that
their White teachers were more effective (based erroneously on the belief that the
White teachers’ students had higher test scores). The African American teachers, on
the other hand, were framed as experts in culturally responsive approaches, given
increased teaching responsibilities, and not provided similar leadership opportunities. This difference in opportunities and expectations had lasting impacts on the
African American teachers, who internalized the lack of resources and negative
messages they received from their principals. The paper concludes with CRT
implications for inclusive leadership development processes.
Keywords
Urban schools Principals Mentorship Teacher leadership Racism
While serving as an administrator of an urban educational leadership program, I
interacted with dozens of African American educators with aspirations for school
leadership. Yet I also witnessed dozens of less experienced, less communitycentered, less transformative White educators mentored into leadership roles, while
many African American educators continued teaching in the same classrooms. As a
White male critical race theory (CRT)-framed scholar, I wanted to examine the
roots to what seemed like racism to me. This study was developed to explore the
C. B. Knaus (&)
Education Program, University of Washington Tacoma, Tacoma, WA, USA
e-mail: educate@uw.edu
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
421
realities I saw in urban districts, where White principals appeared to favor White
teachers, regardless of experience, expertise, or leadership within the community. I
interviewed three White principals, who in turn identified two ‘‘most promising’’
future teacher leaders (one White, one African American) at each school. I was not
hoping to find racism; I was hopeful that perhaps because I am a race scholar, I was
overexposed to educators who most experience racism. In what comes next, I
present my theoretical framework, clarify the qualitative research methods used, and
discuss CRT informed findings.
Theoretical Framework
This study began with the recognition that racism shapes the larger context of
schooling within which teachers and school leaders operate, and used CRT as a
comprehensive framework for applying research methods, developing study
procedures, and for examining the resulting data. CRT has increasingly been used
as such a framework for qualitative studies, as a tool to shape curriculum
development, as a conceptual analytic tool, and as a philosophy to help understand
the nature of race, racism, and institutional responses (or lack thereof) to addressing
racialized exclusion (Dixson and Rousseau 2005; Parker and Lynn 2002; Solórzano
and Yosso 2002). I integrate Ladson-Billings (1999) and Solórzano and Yosso
(2002) into an integrated framework adapted toward a context of school leadership
development within racialized educational structures.
This study is based upon the notion that racism as everywhere and all the time,
extrapolated from Delgado’s argument that racism is normal in the US (Delgado 1995).
Racial oppression led to the formation of America and racial inequality has remained the
fabric of American imperialism (Roy 2004; Zinn 1995). Within the US, educational
disparities are reinforced by unemployment rates, exposure to violence, poverty,
disproportionate incarceration rates, and a lack of access to adequate health care and
quality food (Aud et al. 2010; Howard 2007; Mauer and King 2007; US Department of
Education 2008a; National Urban League 2010; Pettit and Western 2004).
The second CRT tenet used to frame this study argues that schools (and the
education system at large) reflect, reproduce, and justify racism. While many history
lessons superficially acknowledge race, the details of contemporary racism are
hidden by most public school curriculum (Apple 1995; Loewen 1995; Husband
2012; Macedo and Bartolome 1999). Schools that serve African American students
are, by and large, underfunded and in greater disrepair than schools that serve more
White students, and this has been the case throughout US history (Anderson 1988;
Dancy 2013; Knaus 2007; Kozol 1991, Watkins 2001). Teachers that serve African
American students also tend to be less well trained, less well paid, and less
experienced than those who teach predominantly White student populations
(Darling-Hammond 2004; Kalogrides and Loeb 2013; Oakes et al. 2004). Welldocumented educational disparities span the K-12 spectrum, a result of unequal
funding, unequal support, and unequal commitment to teach African Americans in
culturally responsive, inclusive, academically rigorous ways (Delpit 2012; Gay
2000; Howard 2008; Kozol 1991).
123
422
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
Such disparities reiterate what multicultural education and critical race theorists
have been saying for years: inequalities are structurally built into the curriculum,
school funding, the ways teachers teach, and the ways knowledge is constructed
(Banks 1993; Delpit 2012; Gay 2000; Kozol 1969; Ladson-Billings 1995; Sampson
and Garrison-Wade 2011; Woodson 1990). These inequalities are used as
justification for system-wide failures to adequately educate communities of color,
just as operational definitions of merit, intelligence, and quality continue to embrace
Whiteness, while devaluing multilingual, multicultural communities and different
ways of thinking, talking, and living (Au 2009; Epstein 2012; Macedo and
Bartolome 1999).
The third tenet of CRT reflects Solórzano and Yosso’s (2002) argument to
challenge the ‘‘traditional research paradigm, texts, and theories used to explain
students of color’’ (p. 24). As a research methodology, CRT centers the voices of
those directly impacted by racism within educational systems; such voices inform
recognition and understanding of how systems operate to maintain racism and other
forms of oppression (Annamma et al. 2013; Evans-Winters and Esposito 2010;
Pratt-Clarke 2010; Trucios-Haynes 2001). The historical connection between racism
and schools has limited definitions of knowledge precisely because people of color
have systematically been excluded from being seen as writers and scholars. Smith
(1999) clarifies: ‘‘Having been immersed in the Western academy which claims
theory as thoroughly Western, which has constructed all the rules by which the
indigenous world has been theorized, indigenous voices have been overwhelmingly
silent’’ (p. 29). Thus this study uses CRT to center the perspectives of educators of
color, in order to contextualize White educator perspectives.
The final tenet for the purposes of this study is the notion of interest convergence,
which has been framed as the political and legal orientation of the US to act in the
interest of African Americans only when such an act also furthers the interest of the
greater White population (Bell 2004). Bell (2004) argued ‘‘relief from racial
discrimination has come only when policymakers recognize that such relief will
provide a clear benefit for the nation or portions of the populace’’ (p. 49). Policies
and practice in the US only respond to racism when change would also directly
benefit Whites.
Interest convergence is also reflected in an embrace of social justice terminology.
As activists have argued for more inclusion of ethnic studies, multicultural
education, and social justice, many academic programs have inserted social justice
language into their titles (Sleeter and Delgado-Bernal 2004), or taken what Banks
(2006) referred to as an ‘‘ethnic additive approach’’ (p. 60). Yet these additive
changes avoid systems transformation and do not adequately ‘‘support the concerns,
abilities, and perspectives of culturally diverse students’’ (Sleeter 1996, p. 217).
CRT suggests that it is in the interest of White educators to adopt social justice
language instead of integrating anti-racism into the foundation. This anti-change
stance makes individuals who challenge racism subject to personal, professional,
and institutional punishment, exacerbating racism that faculty of color already face
(Bell 1994; Hassouneh 2006; Samuel and Wane 2005; Tuitt et al. 2009).
These four tenets provide the theoretical justification for the study, suggest
qualitative research methodology, and frame data analysis. In what follows, a
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
423
literature review clarifies educational leadership pathways, as well as research
methods and findings.
Educational Context: Racism Facing Educators
Racial disparities that impact African American students also limit opportunities for
educators of color. Nationwide, 80 % of teachers are White, despite urban districts
that often serve a majority student of color population (US Department of Education
2008b). This dominance sharply limits the presence of teachers of color; only 1 %
of the nation’s teachers, for example, are African American males (Lewis 2006).
This disparity of who teaches urban students carries into the ranks of educational
leadership; the majority of urban school principals are also White; nationally, only
18 % were of color just 10 years ago (Gates et al. 2003). To address this, educators
have argued for increasing the diversity of those entering into teaching and
administration (Branch 2001; Brown 2005; Duncan 2010; Meyers and Smith 1999;
Tillman 2005). Yet these calls have not been followed by the eradication of racial
barriers.
For those wanting to teach, income disparities create additional barriers. While
there are alternative routes to teacher credentialing, the typical route to the
classroom requires volunteer student teaching, an unpaid workload that places an
additional burden on lower income families (Epstein 2012; Hill and Gillette 2005;
Madda and Schultz 2009). Previous experiences also exclude African American
educators, as many urban adults had negative experiences as students (Foster 1997;
Gordon 2000). Standardized testing creates another range of barriers, excluding
African Americans from attending, en masse, competitive colleges. Many states
require passage of teacher certification exams that also limit adults of color from
teaching (Applied Research Center 1999; Berlak 1999; Epstein 2012; Jacullo-Noto
1991).
Many teachers of color face these barriers again when they become educational
leaders (Bloom and Erlandson 2003; Brown 2005; Jones 2002; Lewis 2006). A lack
of principal support, lack of clarity around which opportunities lead to career
ladders, and the lack of clear leadership pipelines combine with racism and sexism
to exclude potential leaders of color (Bloom and Erlandson 2003; Brown 2005;
Jean-Marie et al. 2009). The underrepresentation of educational leaders of color
suggests the need to nurture urban African American educators (Bloom and
Erlandson 2003; Jones 2002; Loder 2005), particularly given the impact principals
can have on the culture of a school (Khalifa 2011).
Many educators of color were mentored along the way, yet this support did not
always come from school principals or other positional leaders (Foster 1997; Gay
2003; Gay and Howard 2000; Tillman 2007). Yet principal mentoring of teachers is
framed as a core responsibility of leadership (Gardiner et al. 2000; National
Association of Elementary School Principals 2003). What is not clear is how
African American teachers are mentored compared to White teachers (Lewis 2006;
Loder 2005; Tillman 2005), though research has suggested that teacher evaluations
are impacted by race bias (Delpit 2006). In most school districts, school leaders are
123
424
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
directly responsible for evaluating teachers, and increasingly, there are efforts to
link teacher pay to performance-based data (Turner 2010; Washington Times 2009).
Yet much of how effectiveness is defined is based on some combination of previous
student test scores, several very short observations of teachers, and alignment with
the principal’s (and/or district’s) vision of the school (Marshall 2005; Podgursky
and Springer 2007). These limited evaluations determine which teachers are defined
as effective, which in turn shapes the type of educators encouraged to become
principals.
Methodology
Research Questions
The underlying goal of this study was to examine how urban school principals
support and mentor the African American and White teachers they identified as
‘‘most-promising.’’ This study sought to address the following two research
questions:
(1)
(2)
How do White urban principals support and develop African American and
White teachers identified as ‘promising future leaders’?
Do African American teachers who have been identified as ‘promising future
school leaders’ by their principal feel supported and enabled to become
school leaders?
The goals of these questions were to assess informal and formal leadership
pathways, differential perceptions of support, and unintended racial barriers to
leadership opportunities.
Study Design
In order to capture perceptions of support, three case studies were developed
(Baxter and Jack 2008; Merriam 1988); each set included a principal and two
teachers. To identify comparative cases, preliminary interviews were conducted
with principals until three cases reflected principals with relatively similar years of
experience and who identified both an African American and White teacher leader
within the same school. The sample thus included three elementary school
principals, who each identified two most promising candidates for school leadership
(for a total of nine participants: three principals and six teachers).
Once this sample was identified, the primary method of data collection came
from semi-structured interviews (Kvale and Brinkmann 2009; Merriam 1988). I
visited each school once per month over the course of 6 months, and interviewed
principals four times, with each interview lasting roughly 45 min. These interviews
explored principal leadership philosophies, professional orientation to developing
leaders from the current teaching staff, opinions of the two ‘‘most promising future
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
425
leaders,’’ and opportunities provided to each participating teacher. I also
interviewed each of the two teachers three times, exploring personal and
professional leadership goals, efforts taken to develop as a leader, and professional
development opportunities.
Interview transcripts and detailed observation notes were analyzed using
grounded theory methodology to allow for the emergence of core themes (Glaser
1992; Strauss and Corbin 1994). I read through notes, identified recurring ideas, and
re-read notes, thematically categorizing line-by-line quotations. These thematic
categorizations were then turned into summary notes, and shared with each
participant in follow up interviews, allowing participants to reflect on previous
thoughts. This process ensured participants saw the progression of my understanding of their experiences and efforts and had opportunities to clarify misconceptions.
After secondary interviews, observations of principal-led trainings and teacherled leadership activities were conducted. These observations corroborated principal
interactions, leadership opportunities, and principal support. Observations were
followed by interviews with both sets of participants (principals and teachers), in
which participants reflected on observations, answered follow up questions, and
clarified principal support.
Teacher test scores, provided by principals, were the final data set. Each teacher
administered a district-required annual performance exam for all students; the
district used these scores to evaluate school-wide performance. These scores were
linked to teachers, providing a comparative indicator of district-defined teacher
effectiveness. Because teachers were being compared across grade levels, aggregate
teacher test scores (in a district-designed ranking system of 1–10) were used, though
actual scores are not reported to preserve confidentiality.
The Participants
Principal participants
Principal
Age
Gender
Born
Years teaching
Grade level
Years as admin
Mike Bryant
29
Male
Florida
3
Fifth
4
John Cahoon
37
Male
Michigan
4
Seventh
3
Michelle Michaels
31
Female
Connecticut
4
First
4
Principal Mike Bryant
Born and raised in a small college town in Florida, Principal Bryant attended Duke
University, where he graduated with honors in 4 years, with a double major in
political science and history. In his senior year, he surprised (and agonized) his
parents by applying to Teach for America instead of going to graduate school in
political science. He jumped at the chance to be a fifth grade teacher in the Bay
Area, and after 5 weeks of training, Mr. Bryant had his own classroom, full of
rambunctious African American and Latino youngsters. That first year was difficult:
123
426
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
‘‘I really had no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t like these children. In most ways,
my school years were the exact opposite of theirs.’’ Raised in a ‘‘well-to-do
academic-minded’’ household, Mr. Bryant was unprepared for what he termed ‘‘the
dysfunction of impoverished families.’’
With little support from his principal, who came to his classroom just twice in his
first year of teaching, Mr. Bryant decided to stay another year, and chastised two
other teachers who left during their first year. ‘‘Look,’’ he argued, ‘‘I knew this
would be hard, but I wasn’t giving up on these children. I felt I had something to
prove, and was angered by these other teachers who just weren’t committed.’’ That
drive led Principal Bryant to stay at the school for two additional years; by his third
year, he was the second longest serving teacher at the school. He had already
decided he wanted to be a principal: ‘‘I had three principals in 3 years—and none of
them were committed to staying or really to us as a staff. So I just kinda realized,
‘Hey, I bet I can do this better than these guys!’’’ Mr. Bryant enrolled in a principal
certificate program and was hired 5 months later. Principal Bryant remains excited
about the charge: ‘‘I am here because I am a good principal; I’m organized and
efficient and I don’t tolerate laziness in my staff. And in the end, I’m all about
ensuring students learn what they need to go out and be successful.’’
Principal John Cahoon
Principal Cahoon was born and raised in Ann Arbor, Michigan. After high school
Mr. Cahoon spent a year ‘‘backpacking around Europe, doing the privileged White
kid thing.’’ After a few years, Mr. Cahoon enrolled at Cornell and studied
psychology so he could ‘‘understand how to help people better.’’ While in his
second year at Cornell, Mr. Cahoon enrolled in a course ‘‘that covered all these
special education concerns,’’ and upon returning home for an extended weekend,
observed his sister in school for a day. Through his brotherly intervention, the
family learned of her dyslexia, and this experience shaped ‘‘a healthy dose of
skepticism of teachers.’’ He clarified, ‘‘Here I was, this 19 year old college student,
and after half of a course in special ed, I could diagnose issues better than her
teacher! And this was at a really ‘good’ school!.’’
After graduating with honors, Mr. Cahoon joined the Peace Corps, and spent
3 years in rural Peru developing schools for a newly formed regional school district.
Those years ‘‘were life changing. I realized that if we can create schools from the
ground up, then maybe we could transform communities.’’ Upon returning to
Michigan, Mr. Cahoon was hired by a national teacher recruitment program and
soon landed in California’s Bay Area as a seventh grade history teacher. After his
first few days of being in a classroom, Mr. Cahoon ‘‘knew that leading schools
would be ideal.’’ In his third year, he switched to a charter school and enrolled in a
principal training program. ‘‘I was excited; all this work building upon Peru, the
Bay, and now I was ready to use what I had learned to just start anew.’’ Principal
Cahoon argues that he is driven by ‘‘an intense social justice mission’’ to situate
schools at the ‘‘center of any vibrant community.’’
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
427
Principal Michelle Michaels
Principal Michaels was raised in a suburban Connecticut home, the only child of
two parents who eventually divorced while she was in college. She excelled through
school, ‘‘played the piano, did ballet, and loved biology.’’ By the time she was in
high school, she was already considering which college might best prepare her for a
career in teaching, despite her parents’ hope that she would outgrow her ‘‘obsession
with teaching.’’ After her junior year at Yale, Ms. Michaels realized that ‘‘these
professors just didn’t have anything to do with what happens in schools.’’ Her
critique of a disconnected professoriate led her to UCLA, where she found a ‘‘more
thriving conversation around teaching and education in general.’’ Within 2 years,
she was teaching first grade at ‘‘this little cute suburban school on the beach.’’
Mid-way through her first year teaching, the principal asked her to relocate to the
Bay Area, where she had been asked to take over a ‘‘failing’’ school. She agreed
instantly, and taught for an additional 2 years there. After her third year of teaching,
Ms. Michaels enrolled in a principal credential program. Upon completion, Ms.
Michaels was offered a principal position of a nearby elementary school, which she
accepted, ‘‘despite reservations about leaving the classroom.’’ Principal Michaels
offers her love of teaching as her strength as a principal, ‘‘I’m really centered in the
classroom, and I think teachers see that about me. So it helps [teachers] connect
with me, helps them see me as there to support.’’
The Teachers
Each teacher was told that the principal referred her because they were one of the
‘‘most promising teacher leaders’’ at the school. The teachers, all women, had three
to 4 years of teaching experience at the time of the interviews and represented a
range of ages (25–38). The three White teachers were younger (ages 25, 26, and 31),
while the African American teachers had previous careers or took longer to get
through college, and were significantly older (33, 35, and 38). The White teachers
relocated from out-of-state to teach in the Bay Area, while the African American
teachers were raised and lived locally prior to becoming teachers. All teacher
participants served as mentors through district and/or university supervisory
programs (Table 1).
The Schools
Three urban elementary schools were included in the study. Principal Cahoon, Ms.
Johnson, and Ms. Franklin all worked at a school situated in a low-income,
predominantly Spanish-speaking Latino community; this school served approximately 350 students, with a 55 % Latino, 35 % African American, and 10 % Pacific
Islander, Southeast Asian, and Filipino population. Principal Bryant, Ms. Winkler,
and Ms. Mahlia served in a larger elementary school located three miles away in a
low-income, predominantly African American community. This school had a
population of approximately 450 students, with a 60 % African American, 30 %
Latino, and 10 % Pacific Islander and Southeast Asian population. Principal
123
428
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
Table 1 Teacher participants
Principal
Cahoon
Bryant
Michaels
Teacher
Age
Race
Raised
Grade
level
Years
teaching
# of
children
Johnson
25
White
Michigan
Fourth
3
0
Franklin
35
African
American
Bay area
Fourth
3
2
Winkler
31
White
Michigan*
Third
4
1
Mahlia
33
African
American
Bay area
Fifth
4
3
Rudard
26
White
Iowa
First
3
0
Lundy
38
African
American
Bay area
Third
4
2
* Ms. Winkler was born in the Bay Area, but moved to Michigan when she was 6 months old
Michaels, Ms. Rudard, and Ms. Lundy all served in a smaller school of 275 students,
situated a few miles from both schools, in a low-income mixed community (with
African American, Latino, Pacific Islander, Southeast Asian, Filipino, Asian, and a
small handful of White families). The school served a 45 % Latino, 35 % African
American, 5 % Filipino, 5 % Pacific Islander, and 10 % Asian student population.
All three schools were considered ‘‘underperforming’’ by the district, and had
experienced, prior to these principals, extensive teacher and principal turnover.
Findings
Analysis of interview and observation data resulted in five themes: (1) embracing
equity, (2) avoiding evidence, (3) White teacher leadership development, (4)
limiting African American teacher development, and (5) African American
internalization of exclusion. After presenting each theme, the discussion section
links to CRT.
Embracing Equity
Each of the principals framed their professional purpose as working toward equity
through supporting teachers. Principal Michaels, for example, stated: ‘‘My entire
purpose is equity. It’s in my blood. And I approach all my teachers with this lens.’’
Principal Bryant echoed this: ‘‘Equity is a buzzword, but I really do try to infuse it
into everything I do, from hiring teachers to selecting textbooks to each interaction
with a parent.’’ Principal Cahoon extended a commitment to address racism through
schools:
I work in urban schools because of how these schools are. I mean, these
schools are underfunded, a product of racism. So I try to get my teachers more
serious about this work, to care more and to think of this as missionary work,
in a sense.
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
429
After clarifying their commitment to equity, which was defined by Principal
Michaels as ‘‘all children with the same sort of life opportunities, and of course that
means the same for our teachers and families,’’ the principals clarified how
maintaining a racially diverse staff was important to the success of their school.
Principal Cahoon argued that ‘‘if I don’t have a diverse [teaching staff], then I am
not doing my job.’’ But he also argued that part of teacher effectiveness might be
rooted in the teacher’s race:
Listen, sometimes the students respond better to a Black teacher. So I try to
ensure my staff has some of everybody, someone of every race, and I might
choose a slightly less outstanding teacher if I don’t have, for example, a
Spanish speaking teacher. And I think that’s okay, it all balances out.
Principal Bryant shared examples where he advocated for more applicants of color.
After being chastised by district administrators for hiding job opportunities to
increase his chance of getting teachers of color who might not have seniority, he
‘‘blew up’’ at a district-wide meeting:
I was pissed off – here they are telling me I am supposed to run this school, but
then they place me with these – and I apologize for the term – but these old
grouchy White women – who were forced out of another school. When I tell
them I want teachers of color, they just ignore me. So really, I cant find that
many, mostly because of the racism in this district.
While Principals Cahoon and Bryant were outspoken about recruiting a diverse
teaching staff, Principal Michaels was adamant that while she values ‘‘diversity and
equity,’’ she was concerned about race being equated with ‘‘good teaching.’’ She
clarified, ‘‘I am just looking for the best teacher. If they happen to be White, Black,
Purple, you know, I just want who teaches the best, and that is what equity means.’’
Despite maintaining a self-proclaimed ‘‘colorblind’’ approach to hiring teachers,
Principal Michaels noted that ‘‘the main thing is, can they teach these Black
children. And if not, then you don’t belong in my school.’’ She clarified as well that
‘‘some of these older teachers, well, they just don’t really get Black children I think,
so I am always careful about who I select or who the district tries to send me.’’
When asked about how they support the two teachers they identified as promising
leaders, each principal stated that they offer leadership opportunities to those two,
but perhaps not to all teachers. Principal Bryant argued that ‘‘there are limited
dollars and principals have limited time,’’ suggesting that targeted development was
most effective. In terms of his targeted support, however, Principal Bryant stated, ‘‘I
specifically make sure I tell [Winkler and Mahlia] about anything I think would
have helped me,’’ and argued, ‘‘because they are my most effective teachers, I want
them teaching other teachers.’’ Principal Michaels reflected similar sentiments: ‘‘I
used to try to make opportunities available to all my teachers, but then, with
shrinking resources, I started targeting opportunities. But always open to [Rudard
and Lundy].’’
Principal Cahoon argued, ‘‘Johnson and Franklin model outstanding teaching,
and they also know how to teach other adults that.’’ He even had a public nickname
for these two teachers, as I observed when he asked the school secretary to ‘‘go get
123
430
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
the faves for me please.’’ He clarified that since the two teachers in this study ‘‘are
already leaders’’ he offers support to them based on what they ask for. ‘‘They both
ask for a ton of opportunities. Maybe a bit less with Franklin cause she has family
restrictions, but that just means she doesn’t get to leave town as much. I’d say they
get the same opportunities; yes, definitely.’’ While admittedly providing preferential
treatment, each principal stated that they valued their African American and White
‘‘faves’’ equally, and intended to nurture both into school leadership roles because
of their equity lenses.
Avoiding Evidence
The recognition of these two teachers was not matched by increased classroom
visits or observations of teaching practice. Observations clarified that all of the
principals spent time in teachers’ classrooms. Every time I visited the school,
Principal Bryant was observing a teacher, tutoring a student, or otherwise assisting
inside a classroom, and I often found Principals Cahoon and Michaels in
classrooms. None of the principals, however, were regularly present in classrooms
taught by ‘‘faves.’’ On several visits to the school, for example, Principal Michaels
suggested I observe either Ms. Lundy or Ms. Rudard; both were off campus
attending meetings the principal sent them to. Principal Cahoon suggested I observe
Ms. Johnson teach a lesson that she had taught well over a month ago, and Principal
Bryant suggested I should watch Ms. Winkler teach a grouping strategy that Ms.
Winkler said she was unfamiliar with. All principals visited classrooms in their
school, yet visited their most promising teachers the least.
While all three principals claimed to evaluate all teachers regularly, none of the
teachers in this study had been evaluated within the past year. Principal Cahoon had
never evaluated Ms. Johnson or Ms. Franklin. Principal Michaels evaluated Ms.
Rudard, but Mr. Lyndy said she had not been in her class in ‘‘well over 2 years.’’
While Principal Bryant had been in Ms. Winkler and Ms. Mahlia’s classrooms, he
had not been in either room for, as Ms. Winkler reported, ‘‘longer than 10 min.’’
Despite claiming to know that each teacher was effective, the principals were
unfamiliar with all six teacher participants’ classroom practice.
This lack of evidence to support stated beliefs in teacher practice prompted
clarification of the strengths and weaknesses of each of the promising leaders. I
asked how the principals knew these were great teachers, and what specifically
made them great. Principal Bryant clarified: ‘‘Ms. Mahlia is just incredible at
reaching these African American boys. Especially the rambunctious ones.’’ When
asked what she does, he responded vaguely, that she uses ‘‘culturally responsive
approaches.’’ When asked how he provided differential support to each teacher,
Principal Bryant clarified individual strengths: ‘‘I guess I will do some sorting out—
like if there is a specific conference on literacy strategies, I’ll send Winkler. But if
there is something about classroom management, I’ll send Mahlia. I want them both
to excel in their areas.’’
I continued to probe for evidence of these ‘‘areas,’’ prompting Principal Bryant to
urge me to observe Ms. Mahlia. After observing several lessons, I returned for a
third interview and again asked for clarification of what Ms. Mahlia specifically
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
431
does in class. Principal Bryant then asked to see my observation notes, ‘‘to learn
from the details you got.’’ Over the course of 3 months of my continual asks about
what made Ms. Mahlia an ‘‘outstanding culturally responsive teacher,’’ Principal
Bryant had neither visited her classroom nor offered evidence of why he thought
that. He was just as unable to provide clarity around Ms. Winkler’s teaching, though
he talked for 20 min about several other teachers, citing concrete classroom
practices.
Principal Michaels responded similarly, unable after repeated prompting to offer
concrete evidence about what Ms. Lundy did to make her Principal Michaels’
‘‘resident cultural relevant expert.’’ She did, however, eventually provide detailed
observations, areas of strength (lesson planning, pacing, differentiated instruction)
and details about Ms. Rudard (I learned later from Ms. Rudard that my probing had
led to a full observation of Ms. Rudard, her first). Principal Michaels indicated in
several interviews that Ms. Rudard was her ‘‘standards-based guru,’’ contrasting
with her depiction of Ms. Lundy’s expertise in ‘‘dealing with more difficult
children.’’ While all three principals were unaware of what was happening in
classrooms taught by the ‘‘faves,’’ they had strong ideas as to which teacher was
most effective.
Despite not being able to offer concrete examples of the two teachers he
identified for this study, Principal Cahoon argued that Ms. Johnson, because she was
‘‘masterful at standardized-instruction,’’ had significantly higher test scores, ‘‘even
higher than Ms. Franklin.’’ The students’ test scores, however, debunked his belief:
the two teachers’ classes performed almost exactly the same over the 3 years that
they taught together at the school. When I presented the data he previously had
given me, Mr. Cahoon replied: ‘‘I’m surprised. Ms. Johnson is just better with the
standards, so I wonder what else is going on….’’ He continued, offering up
rationales that ignored the 100 % African American, Pacific Islander, Southeast
Asian, and Latino students his school served: ‘‘I know these tests are biased, so
maybe [the test makers] have been taking into consideration the cultural bias and
that is actually helping Ms. Franklin’s scores better.’’ When asked which teacher
taught more effectively, Principal Cahoon was clear: ‘‘Without a doubt, Ms.
Johnson. Ms. Franklin is incredible with the students, but I’d want my own children
in Ms. Johnson’s class.’’ Principal Cahoon contradicted what the test scores seemed
to reveal, and continued to insist: ‘‘Well, she is better with the standards.’’
The third interview with Principal Bryant, in which I presented his test score data
(which also showed parity over the 3 years), was similar to that with Principal
Cahoon. Principal Bryant had a difficult time accepting that Ms. Winkler’s and Ms.
Mahlia’s students had similar test scores percentiles. After looking through score
reports he provided, he looked exasperated.
I’m trying to articulate why I am having a hard time believing [Ms. Winkler
and Ms. Mahlia have similar test scores]. I have seen them both teach for some
three years. They are the best at this school, but Ms. Winkler is just incredible
with the standards. She has taught all these professional development
workshops for the district. Shit – she’s done stuff at the state level. The data
has to be wrong. I wonder if they didn’t include the Special Ed students in Ms.
123
432
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
Mahlia’s class. That is probably it…which makes me think about how we are
recording these results.
Principal Bryant also justified similar test scores by suggesting the irrelevance of
such scores, while simultaneously claiming Ms. Winkler was better at producing
such scores.
Principal Michaels dismissed the test scores more directly. ‘‘I wouldn’t think
their scores would be the same, but those tests don’t really measure the standards, so
we can’t take them seriously.’’ Her assumption was clear: ‘‘Ms. Rudard does all
these standards-based lessons, models for other teachers, and Ms. Lundy does the
same for classroom management. So of course Rudard has higher scores.’’ Yet Ms.
Rudard and Ms. Lundy also had similar test scores.
These three principals each identified teachers with similar higher-than-theschool-average test scores (they were, after all, what Principal Michaels had called,
‘‘the best of the best’’). Yet despite claiming to know each teacher’s individual
strengths, the principals argued that the White teachers had standards-based skill
sets that the African American teachers did not have. This assumption was not
supported by test score data, and the principals demonstrated that they actually
knew more about the teaching of their non-favorite teachers than that of their
‘‘faves.’’ All three principals reinforced that they did not believe they needed
evidence to know who their best teachers were, and made assumptions that
benefitted White teachers, even after being presented with their own evidence
suggesting they were wrong.
Principal Commitment to White Teacher Development
Interviews with Ms. Johnson, Ms. Winkler, and Ms. Rudard clarified that the
relatively young teachers already had been provided leadership opportunities, based
in part on principal assumptions of more effective instruction. All three had led
professional development workshops at the school and district level, and all three
had led school-wide efforts around teaching to the standards. Ms. Johnson and Ms.
Rudard had both traveled out of state to attend paid-for conferences, and all three
served on school and district hiring committees and leadership teams. Two had also
won district-wide teaching awards based on principal recommendations.
When I asked these teachers why they had been provided such opportunities, they
clarified that their principals noticed their leadership commitment. Ms. Rudard
clarified, ‘‘Ms. Michaels doesn’t really come to my classroom because she knows I
have this all under control. And instead, she uses me to help the rest of the school
get more aligned.’’ Ms. Winkler also argued that because she was seen as an expert,
new teachers were sent to her class. ‘‘I have been doing this for a while, and so I
know the curriculum by heart. So the visits I get are from new teachers, and I try to
coach them by modeling my approaches.’’ Ms. Johnson argued that because she
always ‘‘goes the extra mile,’’ Principal Cahoon rewards her with increased
responsibilities: ‘‘[John] is always giving me additional stuff, and I get paid for it,
too, so its nice. Since we’re both TFA-ers—well, he sent me to DC just last week.’’
Ms. Johnson’s response also hinted that she receives additional support because of a
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
433
shared history with Teach for America, and when I asked for clarification, she
expanded, ‘‘I learned how to do all this curriculum alignment, so I really know how
to teach. And John knows that because of our shared TFA experience.’’
The White teachers were offered professional development opportunities
designed to hone their leadership styles and improve their coaching and each of
their principals encouraged them to enroll in an administrative credential program.
Ms. Rudard clarified that ‘‘Ms. Michaels has been so supportive. She really
encouraged me to consider becoming a principal, and has sent me to all these
teacher leadership retreats.’’ She continued, ‘‘I’d love to be able to support people
like she does.’’ When asked who else was similarly supported, Ms. Rudard clarified,
‘‘If you do the work, you get opportunities. I just don’t see others [at this school]
asking for opportunities.’’
Ms. Johnson was equally impressed with Principal Cahoon’s leadership style.
‘‘He’s super inclusive, and I always feel welcome to come to him, to complain, even
about other teachers.’’ Ms. Johnson continued, ‘‘The way he facilitates meetings and
talks to parents and everything about him is all about equity. I want to be like that as
a leader.’’ Ms. Winkler had similarly positive feelings about Principal Bryant, going
so far as to say, ‘‘when I become an assistant principal, I really want to work with
him. He’s already taught me so much, but it’d be good to learn from that side of
things, to see how he gets [teachers] so interested in leadership.’’ In essence, the
three White teachers had strong relationships with their principals, in part through
professional opportunities that prepared them for the shift to school leadership.
Ms. Winkler also spoke about barriers she perceived as an urban White teacher:
Sometimes leadership opportunities are given based on race – and I think it’s
unintentional. Take Mahlia. She’s a good teacher. But if you put her in a
White school, would she be as good? Whereas I feel like I’m good here and in
a suburban school. And that’s really because I’m more well-rounded, like my
training was probably a bit stronger and less urban focused, which helped me
respond to all students, not just the Black ones.
Ms. Winkler then directly challenged Ms. Lundy and other Black teachers: ‘‘I’m not
saying [Mahlia] shouldn’t be supported, but sometimes I think they get rewarded
just because they are Black, like somehow Black teachers are better for Black
children. But should they get the same leadership opportunities as other teachers
who work harder, who stay at this school past 4:00 p.m.?’’ When asked what
opportunities were provided to ‘‘other teachers’’ Ms. Winkler responded, ‘‘there’s
all these classroom management workshops and what not, and sometimes I see some
of these older teachers at the same workshops I’m at, and they’re just texting on
their phones, never really paying attention. So why are they here? And how many
more trainings could I go to if they weren’t?’’
Ms. Johnson was also frustrated by what she saw as limited resources wasted on
other teachers: ‘‘The one thing that does bug me about John is that he offers these
incentives and workshops for teachers that don’t really deserve it. I mean, they’re
not really leading the school or doing the best in their classroom. Its like, sometimes
he’s too equitable, you know what I mean?’’ All three White teachers believed they
deserved the support they received, and felt that while they were offered relevant
123
434
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
leadership opportunities, they could be even further supported if they did not have to
share these opportunities with others who were not, as Ms. Rudard called them,
‘‘leadership material.’’ Ms. Rudard continued, ‘‘Equity in distribution of resources is
all good. But targeting resources so that the best teachers take advantage of them is
probably more effective. So I’d say yes, leadership opportunities are equally
distributed, probably to a fault.’’
Limiting African American Teacher Development
The African American teachers provided a contrasting narrative. Ms. Franklin
argued that, ‘‘if you want to understand the opportunities I’m given, you have to
understand how unequitable [sic] this school is.’’ Ms. Franklin clarified how she is
continually sent students other teachers do not want, ‘‘and it doesn’t even matter
what grade they are in. They send them all to me.’’ Observations reinforced this
phenomenon: while in her class for a day, ten different African American students
were sent to her room. When I asked several of the teachers why they sent students
to Ms. Franklin, they indicated that they did not know what to do with those students
(Ms. Johnson sent three students that day). Ms. Franklin also taught a disproportionate number of special education students, and explained this as ‘‘a way for the
school to not have to deal with these boys. They just put them in my room, knowing
I keep them here.’’
Ms. Franklin’s experience was the norm. Ms. Mahlia had spent the past several
weeks trying to equalize the number of students in each classroom. Every African
American teacher in grades three through six had 24–26 students in their
classrooms, while White teachers had 20–21. ‘‘I filed a union grievance because
this is a school-wide issue’’ she clarified, ‘‘and only then would Principal Bryant do
anything about it.’’ Ms. Mahlia’s biggest frustration, however, is the way African
American teachers are treated.
They say we’re all valued and all that bs, but how come I have to host parent
meetings during faculty trainings? It’s like anytime there is something that
could help me professionally, the principal schedules a meeting for Black
parents, and since all the White teachers don’t want to interact with Black
parents, its on the handful of [Black teachers] to facilitate.
Ms. Lundy further outlined the range of additional responsibilities African
American teachers take on: ‘‘We all do work that the White teachers just wouldn’t
do,’’ she explained, ‘‘We have a student pick up system, where the children who
can’t get to school have rides from us teachers, but you know we have to drop our
children at school, too, so its tough. But the White teachers won’t help, and even if
they wanted to, you know they don’t live nowhere near here.’’ Ms. Lundy thought
what was needed as a study on the ‘‘unequal conditions [Black teachers] teach in,
and the additional work we do that isn’t counted.’’ None of the White teachers in
this study met with parents outside of school hours (despite staying in their rooms
after school), yet each of the African American teachers met with parents before,
during, and after school, and on evenings and weekends. ‘‘We have all these
additional responsibilities because we are part of this community,’’ Ms. Lundy
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
435
argued, ‘‘but these responsibilities are not part of what we get paid for or recognized
for, and sometimes, it seems like we’re penalized for them.’’
In addition to a larger context of unequal teaching conditions for the African
American teachers, all three denied that the principals provide equitable leadership
opportunities. Ms. Franklin argued that equity should not even be used to frame
discussions about opportunities.
The problem is that everyone tells me everything and everyone is all about
‘equity.’ Then I find out about a meeting, conversation, workshop, conference,
or paid for leadership opportunities that no one bothered to invite me to. I
guess who gets to talk about and define equity are White educators and their
friends.
Ms. Franklin’s frustration about not knowing opportunities that Principal Cahoon
argued he provided her with added to her perception that leadership opportunities
were only for White teachers. This led her to distrust of anything offered by
Principal Cahoon. ‘‘The only stuff he tries to get me to go to are classroom
management workshops for new teachers. And then he tells me I’m his management
expert!’’ Ms. Franklin expressed increasing anger at being told she was ‘‘culturally
relevant’’ by someone ‘‘who hadn’t bothered to come to my class.’’ While she knew
he framed her as an expert in classroom management and culturally responsive
teaching, she challenged: ‘‘How would [Principal Cahoon] know if I’m culturally
relevant? He doesn’t see me teach and only sends me to new teacher trainings, and
those are never about culturally responsive approaches.’’ While Ms. Franklin
recognized that she was considered one of the best teachers at the school, she was
frustrated by a lack of effort to learn what she did in the classroom.
Ms. Lundy was also aware of her being framed as an expert in classroom
management, and argued that this limited opportunities: ‘‘If I was seen as an expert
in math or second language acquisition or literacy, then I’d probably lead district
trainings. But instead, I’m asked to help new teachers settle down their little Black
boys.’’ But these new teacher workshops, Ms. Lundy argued, are not valued by the
district nor do they prepare her for school leadership: ‘‘I often don’t even get paid,
whereas I saw how much they were making for the [literacy] workshops—Dang! I
know how to teach that!’’ In part because her expertise was framed as ‘‘on the noninstructional side,’’ Ms. Lundy felt she was kept from meaningful opportunities. ‘‘If
Mr. Cahoon actually valued me, he’d at least put me on some sort of district
committee or something.’’
After the initial interview, Ms. Lundy approached Ms. Rudard about professional
development opportunities she had (not knowing they were both in the study). Ms.
Rudard’s response confirmed Ms. Lundy’s suspicions that she was being kept from
opportunities. ‘‘She had all these things going on, this list of activities. I didn’t even
know the district had these committees—and she didn’t tell me ‘til I confronted her,
basically.’’’ Ms. Lundy continued, ‘‘so where is my principal in this? Why isn’t he
giving me opportunities like he is these young White girls? I hate to bring race into
it, but really, how can I think its not race? Because it’s not just me, it’s every other
Black teacher here, too.’’
123
436
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
While Ms. Mahlia was aware of school and district leadership opportunities, she
knew those opportunities did not apply to her. ‘‘He uses [the school’s] PD money to
send his teachers to DC, to Sacto, to LA. Last summer he paid for them to go to a
leadership development course in New York. I can’t even get him to let me facilitate
a staff meeting and they get to travel the country?’’ Frustrated by Principal Bryant
determining who received resources without input from the school community, she
continued, ‘‘Staff development clearly doesn’t mean all staff, it means the staff that
the principal likes best.’’
Ms. Lundy suggested that the underlying issue was racism. ‘‘They’d give us
opportunities if they saw us as colleagues and not a threat. But you know they see us
as these overbearing Black bitches. And that’s just straight racism.’’ Ms. Franklin
and Ms. Mahlia also noted that they felt targeted because of their cultural
responsiveness. Each said that while they were framed as what Ms. Franklin argued
was ‘‘more knowledgeable about blackness and Black children,’’ they were
penalized because their comfort with Black families made White educators
uncomfortable. Ms. Mahlia clarified: ‘‘Who I am, sometimes it just makes me
question, does Mr. Bryant not like me as much because I am like these children?
Does he think ‘oh Mahlia? She’s one of them?’’’
Ms. Lundy suggested further that teachers aligned with the principal appeared
more likely to receive opportunities.
If you TFA or ain’t got children or got additional resources and are test prep
happy, then [the principal will] support you. But if you’re like me, Black,
serious, purposeful, and I reach parents – especially the loud angry ones –
well, she doesn’t see that as part of her vision of school. She wants these Black
kids to act like her, suburban and nice and quiet. Well, that ain’t me or these
kids, so I don’t get the opportunities, and neither do they.
The African American teachers were frustrated by a lack of opportunities, coupled
with what they saw (and what the White teachers affirmed) with a preference for
opportunities given to White ‘‘faves.’’ The African American teachers saw their
principals as antagonistic, unaware of what they were doing in their classrooms, and
unaware of the cultural linkage to the larger Black community. And to increase their
frustration, Ms. Mahlia, Ms. Franklin, and Ms. Lundy all saw younger White
teachers being awarded opportunities that they had not known existed.
African American Internalization of Exclusion
In addition to identifying disparities in leadership opportunities, the African
American teachers internalized negative messages from the principal, other
teachers, and sometimes, other African American parents. The negative messages
were exacerbated by the perception of hidden leadership tracks and from
discounting the few positive messages. While the principals praised the African
American teachers for culturally responsive strengths, the teachers saw this as yet
another example of being seen as stereotypically ‘‘Black.’’ Ms. Franklin clarified:
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
437
Like he’ll tell me he didn’t invite me to a meeting because he knew I had to go
pick up my kids from school. Like I shouldn’t have a choice? It’s not that I
don’t get positive messages from [the principal] it’s just that those messages
are actually negative. I don’t think [John] is trying to be negative, he’s just got
his White blinders on. But those negative messages hurt more ‘cause I see how
the praise he constantly gives other teachers make them feel good ‘cause it’s
about their teaching.
These racial biases had a cumulative impact on Ms. Franklin: ‘‘When I came into
teaching, I was all excited and felt like I was going to be great because I knew the
students and I knew the curriculum.’’ Yet after a few years, Ms. Franklin began to
think of herself as ‘‘not good’’ because Principal Cahoon heaped public praise on
Ms. Johnson. ‘‘It makes me question if I really am a great teacher if my students
aren’t producing like they are in Ms. Johnson’s class, then maybe I’m not doing it
right….’’ At this point in the interview, I shared test results with Ms. Franklin,
challenging her belief that her students scored lower on the tests. She responded as
Mr. Cahoon had: ‘‘Wait, I have the same test scores as Ms. Johnson? I actually don’t
believe that—because all she does is test prep—she is entirely aligned to the
standards.’’
The assumptions of what Ms. Johnson does in her classroom and the impact such
approaches must have on test score performance reflects an unsupported,
stereotypically positive view of White teachers. The corollary had a boomerang
effect; Ms. Franklin believed she was less effective because she believed Ms.
Johnson was more effective. Despite evidence that her beliefs in Ms. Johnson’s test
score superiority were inaccurate, those beliefs negatively impacted her selfconfidence as a teacher. The principal unwittingly extended this negative impact by
continually highlighting Ms. Johnson’s presumed standardized excellence and by
repeating the stereotype of Black teachers as only being culturally responsive
classroom managers.
Ms. Franklin highlighted the ways in which African American parents can
exacerbate these messages: ‘‘In the beginning of the school year, sometimes these
parents will ask me—in all seriousness—if they should put their children in Ms.
Johnson’s class. And I’m like, why, because she’s White? And you know Black
folk, they’ll answer: Yep! That’s exactly why.’’ When asked how this impacted her,
Ms. Franklin began to tear up, ‘‘You know those are the days I actually consider
leaving the classroom, leaving the profession. Because if my Black parents—if
these Black women don’t trust me with their children, then who will? Where does
my support come from?’’ Later in the interview, Ms. Franklin regained her
confidence and argued ‘‘most days, most parents are very, very supportive. It’s just
the impact that a couple of parents can have. And I guess I understand—I thought
Ms. Johnson was doing better too!’’
As these teachers continued to hear what they were good in (cultural
responsiveness) and what they were not good in (standards), they began to devalue
themselves. Ms. Mahlia clarified:
If I’m not getting leadership opportunities, getting paid less, getting to grow
less, then I guess, just this past year I started wondering, well, maybe I would
123
438
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
get more support if I was doing what these White teachers do. The issue I have
with my thinking that though is I know that if I focus more on doing this rote
memorization and standards-based stuff, I’ll lose my students. So I’m kinda
professionally stuck right now, trying to work out how to be when everything
reinforces what I don’t think is right.
Ms. Lundy also struggled to balance what she thinks is ‘‘relevant for Black
children’’ with what is ‘‘useful to get ahead career-wise.’’ She began to question
culturally responsive approaches, even as she recognized that ‘‘using what I’ve
learned from Ladson-Billings, Geneva Gay, Sharroky Hollie, and these culturally
relevant curriculum units really do get my students writing and doing math better.’’
Yet the lack of principal support and recognition shifted her teaching approaches:
I do find myself now teaching more to the test – that’s ultimately ‘good’
teaching, right? Even though I know I define good teaching as much more than
that. I think I internalize seeing these little White girls get all the love, and I’m
like, what can I do to get some?
These balancing acts directly contradict the messages the principals stated
throughout the interviews about intentionally valuing the culturally responsive
approaches of these teachers.
This devaluing also reinforced a racialized notion of who should be a school
leader. Ms. Mahlia, for example, ended an interview by stating, in a clear negative
tone, ‘‘I’ve never wanted to be like one of these young hip White guys in suits.’’ Ms.
Mahlia argued that because of her purposeful connection to the urban community
she teaches in, she will continue to be looked over as a potential school leader. A
consistent theme in each of the interviews with the African American teachers was a
sense of isolation based on this shared reality. Ms. Lundy clarified, ‘‘I also am not
sure I want to get more into leadership because how many Black women are up in
that? And of the ones who are there, how many keep it real? How many are actually
from urban communities, or would still know how to talk to our parents?’’ Ms.
Franklin also cautioned, ‘‘I worry about mentoring other Black teachers into
leadership roles because it means we have to work harder, but will never really be
seen as school or district leaders. We’re just teacher leaders, or worse, sometimes
just community leaders, like they don’t even see what we do as education.’’ The
continued professional devaluing ultimately encouraged these teachers to not think
of themselves as leaders who could transform schools.
Ms. Lundy left our final interview with a question for me: ‘‘What I’d really like
to know,’’ she asked after our last interview concluded, ‘‘is can I have the contact
information for the other Black women you are interviewing?’’ After confidentially
inviting the other African American teachers, the three met over tea, and began an
African American teacher’s collaborative to support each other’s professional
aspirations. They continue to meet to augment the lack of support from their
traditional White leadership. Ms. Lundy wrote me after their first meeting:
It was only after reflecting from our interviews, then meeting with [Ms.
Franklin and Ms. Mahlia] that I realized how important our work is. We are
among the few African American teachers in urban schools, and most of the
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
439
administrators are not from here. We have knowledge that very few educators
have, because so few know these neighborhoods and these families. If we do
not support each other, who will support us? We all are community leaders,
we raise our children and other people’s children, in most cases we’re the sole
breadwinners, and we all had to work through college. If we don’t get together
and model how to do this better, then all these well-meaning White educators
will continue to think that their way is the right way. But it’s not; their way is
simply not working. And they wont see us as leaders, so we need to see
ourselves as leaders and stop asking for support. We can support each other
instead.
Discussion
This study resulted in clarification of racial themes in the way three White principals
identified and supported White and Black teachers they identified as promising
potential leaders. Four CRT-based implications stem from this study. The first is
based on the notion that racism is everywhere and all the time. Adopting the
language of equity and inclusion allowed the principals to frame themselves—and
their leadership styles—as inclusive. Yet fostering multiple perspectives in
definitions of what equity means at the classroom, school, and community levels
suggests that African American teacher voices have been excluded from providing
contrary evidence. Without concrete structures to include the voices of urban
communities in shaping what counts as evidence of effective practice in urban
schools, the White educators in this study continue to frame what equity means.
The second implication is based on CRT’s notion that schools perpetuate and
justify racism. None of the three principals in this study operated on a framework
for what effective teaching might mean. Regardless of how principals define
effectiveness, they should know what specific teachers do within their classrooms.
The lack of evidence supported the assumption that the three White teachers were
more effective at standardized curriculum than the African American teachers, and
thus, had better test score results for their students. All three principals believed this
based on several faulty assumptions that they stated throughout the interviews: (1)
that they knew what was happening in each classroom, (2) that the White teacher
was better at teaching to the standards, and (3) that teaching to the standards would
result in higher test scores.
The three urban principals repeatedly framed themselves as equity-driven, yet
none had developed a sense of culturally responsive teaching practices. And these
school leaders in turn nurtured other teachers equally unfamiliar with culturally
responsive approaches. Not having a culturally responsive definition of teacher
effectiveness promoted a system of preferences for White teachers and school
leaders, ignoring the array of research documenting effective teaching and
curricular practice for urban youth. This further justified a racially biased leadership
development process that encouraged White leaders who do not have to demonstrate
a commitment or connection to urban communities.
123
440
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
The third CRT tenet, that voices of people of color are essential to understanding
the depth and scope of racism, was highlighted in multiple ways. The first is that the
White principals, echoed by the White teachers, painted an equity-driven context
that was sharply challenged by the African American teachers. Research that does
not foster voices outside the mainstream of White leadership continues to promote
the notion that oppression no longer exists in schools and society. Had this research
stopped with the White teachers and principals, a false notion of equity would have
been perpetuated. Similarly, educational research often fails to contextualize racial
experiences precisely because the voices of teachers of color are excluded.
These African American teachers also highlighted the detrimental impact of
structural race-based isolation. The fact that this isolation occurs in urban schools
that serve a predominantly diverse student population reinforces the structures of
racism. Why are local educators of color limited from leading the education of local
communities? These African American teachers also illustrated the negative impact
the structures of racism can have on their self-belief systems, as they internalized
racism and began questioning their own approaches. Despite identifying recurring
levels of racism, these teachers created hope amongst each other by meeting
regularly, suggesting the importance of having informal spaces for professionals
isolated by principals and other teachers.
This study further highlighted a nuanced notion of interest convergence.
Principals Cahoon, Bryant, and Michaels had a vested interest in framing their work
as ‘‘equity-driven’’ even though their definition of equity reinforced the interests of
White teachers at the expense of Black teachers. In essence, they saw what they
wanted to see, and used politically correct language to justify a vision of equity the
African American teachers directly challenged. This research suggests that
considering African American teachers as ‘‘most promising’’ was in the interests
of the principals because they could then claim to support equity-focused culturally
responsive approaches (without even knowing what that meant). The White
principals and White teachers directly aligned in the shared belief in standardsbased approaches. In essence, ‘culturally responsive’ was a label given to Black
teachers with strong classroom management. The actual instructional approaches
the African American teachers used were discounted, even though these were the
efforts that led the principals to recognize them as promising leaders.
The White principals and teachers operated in ways that promoted their own
interests, embracing the language of equity while maintaining racially biased views
of education. Yet the White educators, and their contradictory relationship with
African American teachers, represent a larger failure of the education system. The
White teachers were nurtured in ways that denied the support they needed to
develop culturally responsive approaches of their own. Their White principals, who
themselves had little training and support in leading within diverse urban
communities, were simply doing what they knew best. Maintaining their own
professional trajectories ironically perpetuated a racially biased leadership pathway
that further excluded educators of color. Leadership pipelines that foster wellmeaning White educators, without augmenting their experiences with knowledge
about the structures of racism, will only continue the current trends on standardized
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
441
test score performance, accompanied by high dropout rates, fewer teachers of color,
and even fewer leaders of color.
Conclusion
As I was leaving Ms. Lundy’s school, a young African American man named
Bernard approached me and asked if I knew where he could find Ms. Lundy. As I
walked him to her classroom, he told me his younger sister was enrolled in her class.
As Bernard entered the room, Ms. Lundy, busy cleaning her classroom, warmly
greeted him and asked what she could do for him. A huge grin came over his face.
He was returning to thank her for what she had done for him. She had met him
during a home visit to talk with the mother of his younger sister. While waiting for
the younger sister to come downstairs, she talked to Bernard, who was playing video
games. She chastised him for not greeting her, his elder, when she walked into the
house, and asked him why he wasn’t doing his homework. He replied that he barely
went to school because school ‘‘is stupid and it won’t get me nuthin.’’ The next day,
on the drive home, Ms. Lundy could not stop thinking about Bernard. So, she swung
by his house, asked his mother if she could talk to him again, and began stopping by
‘‘several times a week.’’
When I met Bernard at school that day, he was visiting Ms. Lundy to thank her
for encouraging him back into school. This type of dedication and knowledge of
how to reach children is exactly what principals must nurture. However, these are
the skill sets that the principals in this study appeared to ignore in favor of unseen
evidence that coincided with their preconceived racial notions, and not coincidently,
their professional leadership trajectories. This is more than a problem of evidence
and racism; educational leadership structures continue to exclude educators of color
because of the greater commitment to urban communities of color. As the
individuals in this study demonstrated, this has negative implications for future
generations of students and their educators.
References
Anderson, J. D. (1988). The education of Blacks in the South, 1860–1935. Chapel Hill, NC: University of
North Carolina Press.
Annamma, S. A., Connor, D., & Ferri, B. (2013). Dis/ability critical race studies (DisCrit): Theorizing at
the intersections of race and dis/ability. Race Ethnicity and Education, 16(1), 1–31.
Apple, M. (1995). Education and power (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge.
Applied Research Center. (1999). Creating crisis: How California teaching policies aggravate racial
inequality in public schools. Oakland, CA: Applied Research Center.
Au, W. (2009). Unequal by design: High-stakes testing and the standardization of inequality. New York:
Routledge.
Aud, S., Fox, M. A., & KewalRamani, A. (2010). Status and trends in the education of racial and ethnic
groups. Washington, DC: National Center for Educational Statistics (NCES 2010015).
Banks, J. A. (1993). The cannon debate: Knowledge construction and multicultural education.
Educational Researcher, 22(5), 4–14.
123
442
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
Banks, J. A. (2006). Cultural diversity and education: Foundations, curriculum, and teaching (5th ed.).
New York, NY: Pearson.
Baxter, P., & Jack, S. (2008). Qualitative case study methodology: Study design and implementation for
novice researchers. The Qualitative Report, 13(4), 544–559.
Bell, D. (1994). Confronting authority: Reflections of an ardent protestor. New York: Beacon Press.
Bell, D. (2004). Silent covenants: Brown v. Board of Education and the unfulfilled hopes for racial
reform. New York: Oxford University Press.
Berlak, H. (1999). Adverse impact: How CBEST fails the people of California. Oakland, CA: Applied
Research Center.
Bloom, C. M., & Erlandson, D. A. (2003). African American women principals in urban schools:
Realities, (re)constructions, and resolutions. Educational Administration Quarterly, 39(3), 339–369.
Branch, A. (2001). Increasing the numbers of teachers of color in K-12 public schools. Educational
Forum, 65(3), 254–261.
Brown, F. (2005). African Americans and school leadership: An introduction. Educational Administration
Quarterly, 41, 585–590.
Dancy, T. E, I. I. (2013). Sociohistorical contexts of African American male education: An analysis of
race, class, and gender. In M. C. Brown II, T. E. Dancy II, & J. E. Davis (Eds.), Educating African
American males: Contexts for consideration, possibilities for practice (pp. 1–21). New York: Peter
Lang.
Darling-Hammond, L. (2004). Inequality and the right to learn: Access to qualified teachers in
California’s public schools. Teachers College Record, 106(10), 1936–1966.
Delgado, R. (Ed.). (1995). Critical race theory: The cutting edge. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
Delpit, L. (2006). Other people’s children: Cultural conflict in the classroom. New York: New Press.
Delpit, L. (2012). ‘‘Multiplication is for White people’’: Raising expectations for other people’s children.
New York: The New Press.
Dixson, A. D., & Rousseau, C. K. (2005). And we are still not saved: Critical race theory in education ten
years later. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 7–27.
Duncan, A. (2010). Changing the HBCU narrative: From corrective action to creative investment.
Remarks by Secretary Arne Duncan at the HBCU Symposium at the North Carolina Central
University Centennial, Durham, NC, June 3.
Epstein, K. K. (2012). A different view of urban schools: Civil rights, critical race theory, and unexplored
realities (2nd ed.). New York: Peter Lang.
Evans-Winters, V., & Esposito, J. (2010). Other people’s daughters: Critical race feminism and Black
girls’ education. Educational Foundations, 24(1), 11–14.
Foster, M. (1997). Black teachers on teaching. New York: The New Press.
Gardiner, M. E., Enomoto, E., & Grogan, M. (2000). Coloring outside the lines: Mentoring women into
school leadership. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Gates, S. M., Ringel, J. S., Santibañez, L., Ross, K. E., & Chung, C. H. (2003). Who is leading our
schools? An overview of school administrators and their careers. MR-1697-EDU. Santa Monica,
CA: RAND Corporation.
Gay, G. (2000). Culturally responsive teaching: Theory, research, and practice. New York: Teachers
College Press.
Gay, G. (2003). Becoming multicultural educators: Personal journey toward professional agency. San
Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
Gay, G., & Howard, T. (2000). Multicultural teacher education for the 21st century. The Teacher
Educator, 36(1), 1–16.
Glaser, Barney G. (1992). Basics of grounded theory analysis. Mill Valley, CA: Sociology Press.
Gordon, J. (2000). The color of teaching. New York: Routledge-Farmer.
Hassouneh, D. (2006). Anti-racist pedagogy: Challenges faced by faculty of color in predominantly
White schools of nursing. Journal of Nursing Education, 45(7), 255–262.
Higher Education Research Institute. (2010). Degrees of success: Bachelor’s degree completion rates
among initial STEM majors. Retrieved July 24, 2011, from, http://www.heri.ucla.edu/nih/HERI_
ResearchBrief_OL_2010_STEM.pdf.
Hill, D. A., & Gillette, M. (2005). Teachers for tomorrow in urban schools: Recruiting and supporting the
pipeline. Multicultural Perspectives, 7(3), 42–50.
Howard, T. C. (2007). The forgotten link: The salience of Pre-K-12 education and culturally responsive
pedagogy in creating access to higher education for African American students. In J. F. L. Jackson
123
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
443
(Ed.), Strengthening the African American educational pipeline: Informing research, policy, and
practice (pp. 17–36). Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Howard, T. C. (2008). Who really cares? The disenfranchisement of African American males in Pre K-12
schools: A critical race theory perspective. Teachers College Record, 110(5), 954.
Husband, T, Jr. (2012). ‘‘I don’t see color:’’ Challenging assumptions about discussing race with young
children. Early Childhood Education Journal, 39(6), 365–371.
Jacullo-Noto, J. (1991). Minority recruitment in teacher education. Urban Education, 26(2), 214–231.
Jahi, A. (2008). Students disengaged as schools align curriculum with NCLB goals. The notebook: Focus
on changing the odds, 16(2). Retrieved July 24, 2011, from, http://www.thenotebook.org/winter2008/08311/students-disengaged-schools-align-curriculum-nclb-goals.
Jean-Marie, G., Williams, V. A., & Sherman, S. L. (2009). Black women’s leadership experiences:
Examining the intersectionality of race and gender. Advances in Developing Human Resources,
11(5), 562–581.
Jones, C. (2002). Teachers’ perceptions of African American principal’s leadership in schools. Peabody
Journal of Education, 77(1), 7–34.
Kalogrides, D., & Loeb, S. (2013). Different teachers, different peers: The magnitude of student sorting
within schools. Educational Researcher, 42(6), 304–316.
Khalifa, M. A. (2011). Teacher expectations and principal behavior: Responding to teacher acquiescence.
The Urban Review, 43(5), 702–727.
Knaus, C. B. (2007). Still segregated, still unequal: Analyzing the impact of no child left behind on
African American students. In S. J. Jones (Ed.), The state of Black America: Portrait of the Black
male (pp. 105–121). Washington, DC: National Urban League.
Kozol, J. (1969). Death at an early age. New York: Plume.
Kozol, J. (1991). Savage inequalities: Children in America’s schools. New York: Harper Perennial.
Kvale, S., & Brinkmann, S. (2009). Interviews: Learning the craft of qualitative research interviewing
(2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Ladson-Billings, G. (1995). Toward a theory of culturally relevant pedagogy. American Educational
Research Journal, 32(3), 465–491.
Ladson-Billings, G. (1999). Just what is critical race theory, and what’s it doing in a nice field like
education? In L. Parker, D. Deyhele, & S. Villenas (Eds.), Race is… race isn’t: Critical race theory
and qualitative studies in education (pp. 7–30). Boulder, CO: Westview Press.
Lewis, C. (2006). African American male teachers in public schools: An examination of three urban
school districts. Teachers College Record, 108(2), 224–245.
Loder, T. L. (2005). On deferred dreams, callings, and revolving doors of opportunity: African-African
women’s reflections on becoming principals. The Urban Review, 37(3), 243–265.
Loewen, J. W. (1995). Lies my teacher told me: Everything your American history textbook got wrong.
New York: The New Press.
Macedo, D., & Bartolome, L. I. (1999). Dancing with bigotry: Beyond the politics of tolerance. New
York: Palgrave.
Madda, C. L., & Schultz, B. D. (2009). (Re) Constructing ideals of multicultural education through grow
your own teachers. Multicultural Perspectives, 11(4), 204–207.
Marshall, K. (2005). It’s time to rethink teacher supervision and evaluation. Phi Delta Kappan, 86(10),
727–735.
Mauer, M., & King, R. S. (2007). Uneven justice: State rates of incarceration by race and ethnicity.
Washington, DC: The Sentencing Project.
Merriam, S. B. (1988). Case study research in education: A qualitative approach. San Francisco, CA:
Jossey-Bass.
Meyers, H. W., & Smith, S. (1999). Coming home–mentoring new teachers: A school–university
partnership to support the development of teachers from diverse ethnic backgrounds. Peabody
Journal of Education, 74(2), 75–89.
National Association of Elementary School Principals. (2003). Making the case for principal mentoring.
Providence, RI: Brown University.
National Urban League. (2010). State of black America 2010 jobs: Responding to the crisis. New York,
NY: National Urban League.
Oakes, J., Rogers, J., Silver, D., Horng, E., & Goode, J. (2004). Separate and unequal 50 years after
Brown: California’s racial ‘‘opportunity gap’’. Los Angeles, CA: UCLA IDEA.
Parker, L., & Lynn, M. (2002). What’s race got to do with it? Critical Race Theory’s conflicts with and
connections to qualitative research methodology and epistemology. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 7–22.
123
444
Urban Rev (2014) 46:420–444
Pettit, B., & Western, B. (2004). Mass imprisonment and the life course: Race and class inequality in US
incarceration. American Sociological Review, 69(2), 151–169.
Podgursky, M. J., & Springer, M. G. (2007). Teacher performance pay: A review. Journal of Policy
Analysis and Management, 26(4), 909–949.
Pratt-Clarke, M. A. E. (2010). Critical race, feminism, and education: A social justice model. New York:
Palgrave MacMillan.
Roy, A. (2004). An ordinary person’s guide to empire. Cambridge, MA: South End Press.
Sampson, D., & Garrison-Wade, D. F. (2011). Cultural vibrancy: Exploring the preferences of African
American children towards culturally relevant and non-culturally relevant lessons. The Urban
Review, 43(2), 279–309.
Samuel, E., & Wane, N. (2005). ‘‘Unsettling relations’’: Racism and sexism experienced by faculty of
color in a predominantly White Canadian university. Journal of Negro Education, 74(1), 76–87.
Sleeter, C. E. (1996). Multicultural education as social activism. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Sleeter, C. E., & Delgado-Bernal, D. (2004). Critical pedagogy, critical race theory, and anti-racist
education: Implications for multicultural education. In J. A. Banks & C. A. M. Banks (Eds.),
Handbook on research on multicultural education (pp. 240–258). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.
Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. New York, NY: Zed
Books.
Solórzano, D., & Yosso, T. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter-storytelling as an analytic
framework for educational research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23–44.
Strauss, A., & Corbin, J. (1994). Grounded theory methodology: An overview. In N. K. Denzin &
Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 273–285). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage
Publications.
Tillman, L. C. (2005). Mentoring new teachers: Implications for leadership practice in an urban school.
Educational Administration Quarterly, 41(4), 609–629.
Tillman, L. C. (2007). Bringing the gifts that our ancestors gave: Continuing the legacy of excellence in
African American school leadership. In J. L. Jackson (Ed.), Strengthening the African American
educational pipeline: Informing research, policy, and practice (pp. 53–69). Albany, NY: SUNY
Press.
Trucios-Haynes, E. (2001). Why ‘‘race matters’’: LatCrit theory and Latina/o racial identity. La Raza Law
Journal, 12(1), 1–48.
Tuitt, F., Hanna, M., Martinez, L. M., Salazar, M. C., & Griffin, R. (2009). Teaching in the line of fire:
Faculty of color in the academy. Thought and Action, 25(Fall), 65–74.
Turner, D. (2010). States push to pay teachers based on performance. USA Today, 4/8/2010. Retrieved
July 24, 2011, from, http://www.usatoday.com/news/education/2010-04-08-teachers-pay_N.htm.
US Department of Education. (2008a). The condition of education, 2008. Institute of Education Sciences:
National Center for Education Statistics. Washington, DC: US Department of Education.
US Department of Education. (2008b). National Center for Education Statistics, Schools and Staffing
Survey (SASS), ‘‘Public school teacher data files’’, 2007–08. Washington, DC: US Department of
Education.
Washington Times. (2009). Teacher performance-pay plans expand across US Washington Times.
Retrieved July 24, 2011, from, http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2009/apr/10/performancepay-plans-expanding-across-us/?page=all.
Watkins, W. H. (2001). The White architects of Black education: Ideology and power in America,
1865–1954. New York: Teachers College Press.
Woodson, C. G. (1990). The mis-education of the Negro. Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press.
Zinn, H. (1995). A people’s history of the United States, 1492-present. New York: Haper Perennial.
123
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without
permission.
Purchase answer to see full
attachment