Truth, Learning, and Change

A recent report from the Boston Foundation suggests family poverty in Boston is a serious issue.

We’ve all heard of the ‘achievement gap’: that persistent difference between how white students and students of color perform on standardized test in the United States.  Recent studies, however, have focused on a different gap in achievement: this one between students from wealthy families and students from poor families. It may not be altogether surprising that wealthy students do better in school than poor ones. But the disturbing fact is that this gap has been growing over the past 40 years, even as the gap along the color line has shrunk.  At the same time, as income inequality in the United States grows so does economic segregation in schools.  The persistent gaps in achievement along race and economic lines suggest that economic inequity remains as relevant as ever, yet the path to narrowing these gaps and providing a quality education for all our children is continues to be elusive.

So how can we work towards educational equity? While we at the Boston Busing/Desegregation Project don’t pretend to have the solution, we do think past attempts to move towards equity hold some critical lessons for addressing racial and economic gaps in student achievement today.

First and foremost, we must recognize the community context within which inequality functions.  Attempts to address the achievement gap often focus on getting students, schools and families to do better.  Students, schools, and families however are embedded in communities, cities and regions. In Boston we have seen how communities act and react to issues of educational equity, how resources can be differentially allocated between communities and how there is a further differential in resources between the city and its suburbs. This whole system encourages some students to thrive while forcing others to struggle.

Yes it is important to focus on ‘the achievement gap’ and find ways for everyone to do better. But there are other gaps which are equally important in impacting the ability of young people to succeed. One such gap is what’s called a ‘democracy gap’ – where some individuals, neighborhoods, and towns have access to government and strong voices while others face exclusion. This is a major goal of the Boston Busing/Desegregation Project: to give voice to those that have traditionally been excluded due to race and class inequities and learn from their experiences.

We are constantly faced with the question of what we can learn from the past when the city has changed so much. Indeed demographics have shifted, schools have been updated and the city’s economy has been remade.  But the gaps are still there beneath these changes, and not just in achievement but in access and voice. Until we close the democracy gap in our communities, city and region, it is unlikely education will ever be ‘the great equalizer’ it was intended to be.

With the passing of former Boston Mayor Kevin White, it was clear that there is still much energy and passion when Boston reflects on our busing/desegregation crisis.  There was hardly an article or report that didn’t mention this era and the profound impact it had on Kevin White’s legacy and the city.

One refrain we heard on the Callie Crossley Show about Kevin White’s passing  was “we don’t know this history”.  Names and events that had a huge effect on the city were clearly new to many who were not here then—or even to some who were.

As we do this project we are often asked, “Why go back”. Many say it’s important to go back because if we don’t know the past we will repeat it.  This is a huge reason for looking at our history. What happens when inequity runs rampant? What happens when a decision is made for all that fails to find and address the wisdom or kernel of truth in marginalized voices and communities?  What can we learn about democracy and about systems change by looking at the gains and failures of that time?

When Detroit seated a Truth Commission to look at its history of racial inequality, one of the panelists, Professor Thomas Klug,  addressed the “why go back?” question by saying that history is a sixth sense. If we don’t understand what the history was that got us here, we think the status quo has always been. We don’t understand how our current reality was put in place and so we cannot imagine that we can really make change. This is another reason to look back: the trials of that time –especially racial and economic segregation and inequities  in public education and the city—continue to haunt us and only by understanding how we got here can we really make systemic change.

A third reason for looking back can be summed up in the picture above (click for larger view). It is a simple model by William Bridges for understanding complex change. The goal of our change was quality education for all regardless or race and class. Desegregation was one strategy for reaching that goal. And “busing” was a tactic that tried to push Boston through its resistance to that strategy.

The transitions model cautions that often we think change is going directly from the old to the new. We forget the stages of making a true ending, entering a transition period of trial and error, and allowing new beginnings to emerge from what we learn. Too often, we want to move past the emotion and trauma that often accompanies change.

Moreover, there is a “marathon effect” in which some are reaching the finish line before others have heard the gun as happens here every Patriots day! Some have certainly moved past the traumas of that era, some are enjoying economic and racial well-being. But many are not. We have not heard the full stories of those for whom the just “ending” has not come or who are still caught in the legacy of that era.

Boston has the intellectual, spiritual and material resources to look back and learn. We can make the changes that can lead to the highest quality public education system and to race and class equity in the city. Kevin White couldn’t do that for us. No one man or woman can. But our city together can –and needs to– do it.

What was happening in Boston’s neighborhoods at the time of the Busing/Desegregation crisis? What shaped each cultural community’s response to it? In what history were those responses grounded? How does that history continue to impact us now?

In the coming months, in addition to screenings of Can We Talk? the BBDP will be holding cultural/neighborhood gatherings to learn what their historical and social contexts were for the busing/desegregation crisis. We know we cannot address what happened in Boston in the period of 1974 – 1978 until we have some  understanding of the political, economic and social context that led up to the crisis. Rather than only looking to the books, we are inviting the city to co-create this history with us by asking people to tell us what was happening in their communities before the crisis and what the crisis actually was from their perspectives. We will culminate with a city-wide gathering in June to look at, share and build on what we’ve learned.

In a two-part event on January 24 and 31, we piloted this process at the historic Freedom House in Roxbury. About 30 people came out on each night to see clips from the film, hear a panel and explore context and present day impact in small groups. The panel was moderated by Barbara Lewis, Director of the Trotter Institute and included Sherry Brooks-Roberts, retired BPS teacher and administrator, Margaret Burnham of the Civil Rights and Restorative Justice Project at Northeastern School of Law, Matthew Goode, a native Bostonian and educator, and Deborah Washington, RN, of Massachusetts General Hospital.

The panel was followed by lively discussion in small groups and very insightful feedback. For example, we were struck by how people talked about their communities then, as being energetic and change-oriented,  where they talked about today with more concern and apprehension. We were equally struck by the emotion people still feel when discussing the era. We also noticed how people put the crisis of the schools in a much larger context of community, housing and history. Finally, we found that people were both anxious to learn about other communities and to have other communities understand their own experiences. You can see notes from the event and view the panel below.

You can imagine our excitement when we came across this article by Michelle Morrissey referencing our project in the Huffington Post.  Even more exciting for us than the link is the fact that Michelle is taking the time to teach Boston students the history of the city’s busing/desegregation crisis, while most BPS students learn about school desegregation through studying Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas (thus perpetuating the myth that desegregation struggles are solely a southern problem).

As Michelle mentions in her article, we got a chance to show “Can We Talk” in her classroom, and received some amazingly insightful feedback from those young people. They commented on the fear and frustration they heard in the film. Many were surprised by how education and the actual experiences of young people became secondary during the crisis.  They were also eager to both hear other voices than weren’t included in the film and extend beyond personal stories to think about the systemic issues

Whether you agree with Michelle’s perspective or think education reform needs to go in some other direction, we hope that you will join her, her students and the many other people we’ve reached out and have joined us in thinking about how we can learn a lesson from the busing/desegregation crisis that helps us move forward. For us, this means at the very least holding up the importance of equity and excellence in every decision we make as a city, state, and nation about the education of our young people.

We asked some of our committee members to reflect about their relationship to the project. Becky Shuster and Paula Elliott replied.

It surfaces again and again: our city’s still open wound from the history of busing and school desegregation.  I moved to Boston as a young adult in 1983, years after the crisis.  But as anyone who is active in anti-racism work in Boston will tell you, the pain around that history is always apparent when we try to tackle these issues.  Whether I am facilitating a dialogue session on race through YWCA Boston or simply inviting an out-of-state African-American friend to visit, the history of busing in Boston comes right to the fore.

So, when Horace Small first mentioned his idea to me – a profound and innovative idea to endeavor to address that history – I was immediately on board.  I am honored to be a member of the project’s Steering Committee, and co-chair of the Program Committee charged with guiding the design and facilitation of various discussions and training sessions associated with the effort.

The Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination hosted one of the fall film screenings to get the word out about the project and open the conversation.  Over seventy people turned out to be a part of it.  You could feel participants’ eagerness to learn about and/or remember the details of what happened; to face the impact of those events on individuals, education, and the city; and to begin to figure out how to move forward together.

As the mother of a Boston Public School first grader, I can only imagine what the implications of this process may look like.  Can we create the quality and quantity of opportunities that are needed to truly recover from the history of busing, and to deeply listen to the effects on so many lives?  Will more parents of color, particularly African-American parents, feel able to fully engage in efforts to transform our schools?  Will we gain a more accurate assessment of where we are around racism in Boston today, rooted in the realities of the present rather than either the pain or the denial from the past?  I look forward to finding out.

Becky Shuster is on the Steering Committee for the Boston Busing Desegregation Project, and is  the Director of Training for the Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination. She lives  with her family in Hyde Park.

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As a BBDP Learning Network Planning Committee member for over a year, the public gatherings, impromptu phone calls, readings, and discussions have routinely provoked reflection about my motives and expectations for involvement.   The time and energy as a committee member is not inconsequential, so why do I continue to be invested? An easy answer to how I got on board was my long-time regard and respect for Donna Bivens, the project coordinator.   Her leadership gave me confidence that the perspectives of participants would be listened to and respected.   You can’t always assume that to be the case when people try to do their part as a responsible citizen and community member in this town.  That confidence continues to stoke my energy as other reasons sustaining my intellectual engagement and emotional investment emerge.

For many years in my professional and personal life, I have been driven by a deep concern for the quality educational experiences available to children and families in urban schools.   I am a third generation African American educator and proud of my family legacy. I come from women and men who worked tirelessly in support of assuring an education so  children could have real choices through out their life,  know how to make responsible decisions, and  share their unique gifts in ways that affirm life affirming possibilities with others.  I come from folks that were active in the struggle for civil rights, so I make a point to continually revisit that history and look for ways to make use my skills and talents for similar purposes each day.  I particularly love to seek out and hear the stories of teachers, the history and wisdom they bring to and from their work in urban settings.  So the work with BBDP and the folks that come to the project lines up quite nicely with familial legacy and personal passions.

As I continue to seek out more of my family history I always assume that everyone around me has a legacy that can be a source of strength and purpose in their lives.  Whether they have taken the time to learn about it or not, I assume, if they choose to, they can use the lessons from their life and legacy in ways that contribute to the larger good.   So again, the Learning Network, the space from which people can explore, share and reflect on their life experiences with Boston’s schools, fits comfortably with the insights others can bring to the table.

The assumption of this project  that  other’s voices should be solicited and counted in the master narrative also increases the likelihood that I will confront folks that will contradict and challenge my long held beliefs. So sustained involvement in BBDP means I will get practice in hearing and responding to, ideas and attitudes that I want to push back or dismiss. I am good at pushing back when I think it is needed. At the same time to do so, without really trying to listen and understand what someone else has to say, is problematic, can be irresponsible, and can diminish some else’s ways of being, make them lose face; that ain’t right.

The folks I have seen in this project appear willing to listen and learn as best they can, no matter what comes up.  They also want to make sure any one who wants to participate feel listened to, respected, and be feel they can take away meaningful learning from their experience.  That’s a really good thing, especially talking about the history of Boston’s schools in the context of tumultuous dynamics of race, class, and longstanding beliefs about the sanctity of their neighborhood turf.

I hope sharing some of the beliefs and values sustaining my connection with BBDP will encourage others to find their own good reasons to do so and join us for this long, meaningful and important journey.

Paula R. Elliott, Ed.D., is currently active in community-based social justice initiatives. She is a creative resource and consultant with schools, teacher development initiatives and non-profits on issues of equity and inclusion in urban education, community services, arts education and the production and presentation of artists and cultural workers.

It’s easy in the day-to-day to get caught up in ‘what we’re not doing’ and ‘what we need to do.’ As we reflect back on 2011, however, we are reminded of how much we have actually done. Here are some of the numbers:

–          We formed a steering committee of 14 members with diverse interests, knowledge and skills that has become a core part of the project. Out of this committee we formed 4 working committees to engage in the day-to-day work of making the project a success.

–          We grew our learning network to about 500 people. We held 3 events for this network – a general meeting, a talk by sociologist Eduardo Gonzalez about truth commissions and a Courage Retreat inspired by the work of Parker Palmer.

–          We oriented 30 facilitators to the project to help us facilitate conversations throughout the life of the BBDP.

–          We premiered a 55 minute film , ‘Can We Talk,’ in which 12 brave individuals talk about their experiences with the busing/desegregation crisis. We have held 18 screenings of the film, engaging over 750 viewers in conversation.

 We could probably dig up more numbers for you, but the reality is that the numbers, as usual, don’t tell half the story. The real accomplishment of the year for us has been the learning and relationship building we have had the good fortune on engaging in.

We’ve spoken with parents, teachers, former teachers, students, school administrators, recovery program participants, adult basic education students, trauma professionals, artists, politicians, academics, clergy, residents of Roxbury, Dorchester, Brighton, South Boston, Quincy, Randolph … the list goes on and on. So many people have shared their truths with us and given us their thoughts and guidance. They have told us stories of pain and struggle and perseverance and desperation and love. Their honesty has at times overwhelmed us and always reminded us of why we do this work.

We’ve learned some valuable lessons as well. We’ve learned that talking to people can bring up trauma, and that we need to be ready for that. We’ve learned the history of a convent in South Boston and Protestant discrimination against Catholics. We’ve learned about the hard work of school desegregation activists before and since and the need to incorporate their stories. We’ve learned about the struggles of mother’s groups that were pro-desegregation. We’ve learned about the benefits and limitations of using film as a medium.

But we cannot hold these truths or learnings alone – a fact which propels us into 2012. Our hopes for this year include:

–  Continue to grow our learning network. Engage in more and regular dialogue with this network and facilitate more learning opportunities.

–  Work with different communities in the city to set the context for the busing/desegregation crisis. Ask the questions: ‘Who were we as a city before the crisis?’ and ‘How did we get there?’

–  Begin a process in which people within their communities share their truths and listen to and reflect upon the realities others have faced.

Although this is a lot to do and worry about, we feel confident that the solid relationships we have built and lessons we have learned over the past year will make it all possible.

As you’ are making your year-end donations, we hope you will consider making  a donation to  this work.  Thank you for your ongoing support.

On Monday, October 17, Boston Globe writer Akilah Johnson wrote another excellent article on the Boston Busing/Desegregation Project. This article and the one this past Saturday give an extensive overview of the Project.

An advocacy group hopes a community wide discussion about the past will improve the future of Boston schools – The Boston Globe.

Adrian Walker of the Boston Globe dedicated his Saturday column to this Project. The article focused on the film Can We Talk? It gives a great overview of the film. It does not say much about the overall project and we hope if this is your first introduction to the Project that you’ll read up on the Boston Busing/Desgregation Project and become part of the Learning Network which is the growing community of people committed to making this Project a success and a gift to Boston.

Revisiting the legacy of busing, hoping to close old wounds – The Boston Globe.