Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education (Springer International Handbooks of Education) 3030358577, 9783030358570

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Springer International Handbooks of Education

Carol A. Mullen Editor

Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education

Springer International Handbooks of Education

The Springer International Handbooks of Education series aims to provide easily accessible, practical, yet scholarly, sources of information about a broad range of topics and issues in education. Each Handbook follows the same pattern of examining in depth a field of educational theory, practice and applied scholarship, its scale and scope for its substantive contribution to our understanding of education and, in so doing, indicating the direction of future developments. The volumes in this series form a coherent whole due to an insistence on the synthesis of theory and good practice. The accessible style and the consistent illumination of theory by practice make the series very valuable to a broad spectrum of users. The volume editors represent the world’s leading educationalists. Their task has been to identify the key areas in their field that are internationally generalizable and, in times of rapid change, of permanent interest to the scholar and practitioner. More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/6189

Carol A. Mullen Editor

Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education With 30 Figures and 57 Tables

Editor Carol A. Mullen School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech Blacksburg, VA, USA

ISSN 2197-1951 ISSN 2197-196X (electronic) ISBN 978-3-030-35857-0 ISBN 978-3-030-35858-7 (eBook) ISBN 978-3-030-35859-4 (print and electronic bundle) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021, corrected publication 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Calling for justice, in dedication to George Floyd – Black Lives Matter

Preface

From Mahatma Gandhi to Martin Luther King Jr., many inspirational activists have expressed the belief that together we can make profound and even lasting changes. In this vein, the goal of the Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education is to explore intervention as a critical component of social justice in theory, research, and practice within educational contexts. As the creator and editor of this major reference work, I wanted to provide an international forum for contributors from various societies, cultures, and disciplines to address missing aspects of social justice in the educational field. This purpose has been met. The collection offers actionable social justice frames, interventions, applications, and implementations. These aid in improvement, revitalization, restoration, healing, and transformation within (inter)national settings. When you consider that much about the treatment of social justice has been theoretical or abstract, our collection takes an important next step. In actuality, the contribution of this book is that it extends the work in social justice education in new directions through frameworks, leadership, intervention, application, implementation, and engagement. Scholars and practitioners from around the world offer new possibilities for social justice as intervention in the stream of life. We pursue different and empowering ways of advancing equity, access, excellence, effectiveness, representation, voice, solidarity, restoration, reckoning, community, collaboration, decolonization, racial justice, and so forth. Beneficiaries of social justice intervention – minoritized groups; student, teacher, and faculty populations; isolated parents and families; depressed schools and neighborhoods; and teacher and leader aspirants – are an uppermost concern for us. The “doing” of social justice is not a departure from theory. Instead, theory-assisted practice underlies this volume and the many ways of envisioning interventionist work and going about it in classrooms, programs, schools, universities, and so forth in the name of social justice and on behalf of future generations. We invite you to become familiar with the contributors’ treatment of, or approach to, social justice education in this book by consulting individual chapters or sections: general background (Part 1); leadership (Part 2); schools (Part 3); higher education (Part 4); and comparison (Part 5). Or you may be drawn to a topic like programming

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Preface

development and implementation for select populations that crosses book sections and thus domains of education (e.g., leadership, schools, and higher education). Regardless, we hope that you will find the contributions informative as well as insightful, and that the chapters spark ideas for your own social justice work. This book may even provide an opportunity for interested readers to build on our offerings by generating, developing, trying out, and learning from the frames and implementations. Such actions can make a difference. In the introduction to this collection that follows, I expand on the purpose of this project and the organization of the book, in addition to the features of this volume. Blacksburg, USA August 2021

Carol A. Mullen

Contents

Volume 1 1

Introduction to the Collection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Carol A. Mullen

Part I 2

3

1

General Background of Social Justice Literature . . . . . . . . . .

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Pedagogies for Decolonizing Education in Theory and Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Carol A. Mullen

11

Inclusion as Social Justice: Nancy Fraser’s Theory in the South African Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ellison Musara, Carolyn (Callie) Grant, and Jo-Anne Vorster

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4

Defining Social Justice in Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John C. Pijanowski and Kevin P. Brady

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5

Still Searching for Leadership in Educational Leadership . . . . . . . Fenwick W. English

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6

Transforming Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Carolyn M. Shields

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7

Theorizing About Identity Politics in Education and School Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Carol A. Mullen and Kim C. Robertson

Part II 8

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Interventions and Explorations in Leadership

..........

Peer Equity Coaching: Socially Just, Transformative Adult Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mary A. Bussman and Karen Seashore Louis From Zero Tolerance Policies to Restorative Practices . . . . . . . . . Zorka Karanxha, Michael R. P. Bailey, and Marsha Henry-Lewis

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161

163 189

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11

12

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Contents

Moral Purpose Expressed Through Values by Social Justice School Leaders in the Baltic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jenny S. Tripses

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Principals’ Responsibility for Helping Impoverished Students Succeed in Rural Appalachia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emily T. Boyles and Carol A. Mullen

227

Professional Development for Teaching Students in Poverty and Impacting Teacher Beliefs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Barbara M. Wickham and Carol A. Mullen

255

Relational Mentoring for Supporting School Principals in Social Justice Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sonya D. Hayes and Pamela S. Angelle

283

Indigenous Women Educational Leaders Decolonizing Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ingrid M. Robinson, Lisa Lunney Borden, and Laura-Lee Kearns

303

Rethinking Family and Community Leadership from a Distributed Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sol Bee Jung

327

Factors That Affect the Performance of Refugee Students in Public Schools: An Illustration from Virginia, USA . . . . . . . . . Katina W. Otey, Jodie L. Brinkmann, Carol S. Cash, and Carol A. Mullen

17

Teachers Leading in Refugee Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marissa Winmill, Julie Kasper, and Jill Koyama

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Using Anti-racism to Challenge Whiteness in Educational Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . M. Nathan Tanner and Anjalé D. Welton

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Social Justice Leadership in Educational Market Contexts . . . . . . Meagan S. Richard, Shelby Cosner, and Jason D. Salisbury

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Relationships as Assets, Relationships as Barriers: Social Justice Leaders’ Use of Relationships in Their Work . . . . . . . . . . Meagan S. Richard

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Providing Equitable Services to Students with Special Needs Through Collaboration: An Evaluation of Relationships . . . . . . . . Bethany C. Mazurek and Carol A. Mullen

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Contents

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Volume 2 Part III 22

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Interventions and Explorations in PreK-12 Schools . . . . . .

Seeking to Improve Student Success by Building Connections Between Indigenous Parents and Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emily Milne and Terry Wotherspoon

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Teaching and Learning Toward Racial Justice in a Public School Science Classroom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Annie S. Adamian

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Social Justice in the Classroom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Avril Aitken and Linda Radford

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Change Through Creative Learning: Toward Realizing the Creative Potential of Translanguaging . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ronald A. Beghetto and Sae Saem Yoon

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Equity, Effectiveness, and Control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . William R. Black, Adam Charles Rea, and Briane L. Reck

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Learning by Doing: Practices in a Democratic School in Guatemala that Foster Citizenship Development and Civic Engagement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Allison M. Borden

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Injecting Creativity in Society for Possible Futures of Improved Ethics and Equity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Giovanni Emanuele Corazza, Vlad P. Glaveanu, and James C. Kaufman

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Interculturalism and Social Justice: The Case of the Inclusion of Chinese Children in Greek Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Angeliki Lazaridou, George Sorkos, and Vasiliki Polymeropoulou

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JusticexDesign: Exploring Power, Representation, and Participation Through Maker-Centered Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sarah Sheya, Jaime Chao Mignano, and Edward P. Clapp

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School Leaders, Emotional Intelligence, and Equitable Outcomes in Urban Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Monica Flamini, Jerome Graham, Whitney Toledo, and Sheneka M. Williams Teacher Labor Actions as Social Justice Intervention in Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pamela J. Konkol and Diego Ramirez-Alonzo

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Contents

Restorative Practices as a Social Justice Intervention in Urban Secondary Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ashley Anne Grant and Douglas J. Mac Iver

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Equitably Responsive Teaching Lavetta S. Ross

...........................

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Intersectional Justice for Adolescent Girls of Color . . . . . . . . . . . . Shena Sanchez

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Access and Barriers to Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) Education for K–12 Students with Disabilities and Females . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cindy C. Klimaitis and Carol A. Mullen

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Bringing Problem-Based Learning to Elementary Schools to Benefit Children’s Readiness for a Global World . . . . . . . . . . . Samantha S. Reed, Carol A. Mullen, and Emily T. Boyles

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Preserving Black Education Legacy and Influence Through Oral Histories of Southern Segregated Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Star A. Norton and Carol A. Mullen

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Teacher Strategies Used to Achieve Desired Outcomes for Students with Emotional Disabilities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Turonne Kalada Hunt and Carol A. Mullen

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Part IV

Interventions and Explorations in Higher Education

....

..........................

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Social Justice Leadership Design Wesley Henry and Casey Cobb

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Preparing Preservice Teachers for Social Justice Teaching: Designing and Implementing Effective Interventions in Teacher Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Julian Kitchen and Leanne Taylor

929 931

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Cultural Competency and Higher Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sharon D. Kruse and Shannon Calderone

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Social Justice Interventions in Higher Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1005 Walter F. Heinecke and Sarah Beach

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Disabling Injustice in the Higher Education Classroom . . . . . . . . . 1031 Daniel W. Eadens, Danielle M. Eadens, and Christopher Lanterman

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The Gift of Disruption: Feeling and Communicating Subverted Truths at the Intersection of Racist and Ableist Practices . . . . . . . 1057 Mercedes A. Cannon and David I. Hernández-Saca

Contents

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Wellbeing in Higher Education: Intervening for Social Justice . . . 1081 Karyn Cooper and Robert E. White

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Black Feminisms and Pedagogical Space-Making . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1101 Andrea N. Baldwin, Nana Afua Brantuo, and Jazmin P. Pichardo

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Using a Social Justice Continuum to Better Support Faculty of Color in Higher Education Settings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1125 Yolanda Abel and Ileana Gonzalez

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Social Justice Interventions in College and University Residence Halls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1151 Michelle L. Boettcher and Aja C. Holmes

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Purposeful Programming for Priority Populations as a Social Justice Initiative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1171 Daniel B. Robinson, David C. Young, and Jeff Orr

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Outcomes of First-Generation African American Postsecondary Students Who Completed Early College Access Programming . . . 1193 Angelica W. Witcher and Carol A. Mullen

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Women’s Ascension to the Deanship in an Academic Bullying Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1221 Sarah J. Baker, Azadeh F. Osanloo, and Whitney Sherman Newcomb

Part V

Comparative Interventions and Explorations . . . . . . . . . . .

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A Communitarian Perspective on Leading Toward Social Justice in Schools Within Developing Traditional Societies . . . . . . 1251 Izhar Oplatka

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Disrupting Whiteness in Introductory Statistics Course Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1267 Lolita A. Tabron, Kahlea Hunt-Khabir, and Amanda K. Thomas

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Troubling Social Justice Interventions for Predominantly White Institutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1293 Elissa Bryant, Whitney Neumeyer Roach, Jason E. Titus, and M. Francyne Huckaby

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Rising Up in Solidarity: Southeast Asian Immigrant Youth Activism in North Carolina . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1323 Lan Kolano, Kathryn Wagner, and Nicholas Triplett

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A Comparison of Finnish and American Education Policies and Practices That Address Educational Equity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1345 Carol A. Burg

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Contents

Correction to: Relational Mentoring for Supporting School Principals in Social Justice Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sonya D. Hayes and Pamela S. Angelle

C1

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1371

About the Editor

Carol A. Mullen, PhD, is professor of educational leadership and policy studies at Virginia Tech in the School of Education, Virginia, USA. A J. William Fulbright Senior Scholar alumnus, she completed research in China, Canada, and Australia. An experienced higher education administrator who served as president of two national associations, this interdisciplinary scholar writes on social justice in education and leadership within glocal contexts. Her authorships of scholarly, peer-reviewed publications include over 235 journal articles and book chapters, and 17 guest-edited, special issues. Her 28 books include Revealing Creativity: Exploration in Transnational Education Cultures (2020, Springer); Canadian Indigenous Literature and Art (2020, Brill); and Under Duress in Education? (2019, Springer). Top-tier, high-impact journals with her articles include Action in Teacher Education, Educational Psychology Review, International Journal of Leadership in Education, Journal of School Leadership, Qualitative Inquiry, Teacher Education Quarterly, Teachers College Record, and Journal of Research on Leadership Education. She is former editor of Mentoring & Tutoring (Routledge journal). Among the many career honors received, she was awarded the 2021 Alumni Award for Excellence in International Research from Virginia Tech; the 2020 Excellence (OISE Leaders & Legends) Award from the University of Toronto; the Alumni Award for Excellence in Research from Virginia Tech; the 2017 Living Legend Award from the International Council of Professors of Educational Leadership; and the 2016 Jay D. Scribner Mentoring Award from the University Council for Educational Administration. Her PhD is from the University of Toronto. Email: [email protected] xv

Contributors

Yolanda Abel Department of Advanced Studies in Education, School of Education, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, MD, USA Annie S. Adamian School of Education, California State University, Chico, CA, USA Avril Aitken School of Education, Bishop’s University, Sherbrooke, QC, Canada Pamela S. Angelle Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Studies, College of Education, Health and Human Sciences, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN, USA Michael R. P. Bailey Saint Leo University, St Leo, FL, USA Sarah J. Baker New Mexico State University, Las Cruces, NM, USA Andrea N. Baldwin Department of Sociology (Women’s and Gender Studies and Africana Studies Programs), Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA Sarah Beach Educational Foundations, Leadership and Policy, School of Education, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, VA, USA Ronald A. Beghetto Mary Lou Fulton Teachers College, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA William R. Black College of Education, University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA Michelle L. Boettcher Educational and Organizational Leadership Development, Clemson University, Clemson, SC, USA Allison M. Borden University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM, USA Lisa Lunney Borden Faculty of Education, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada Emily T. Boyles Coordinator of English Learner Professional Development, Grayson County Public Schools, Independence, VA, USA Fortune School of Education-Graduate School, Sacramento, CA, USA xvii

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Contributors

Kevin P. Brady University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR, USA Nana Afua Brantuo Department of Teaching and Learning, Policy and Leadership (Minority and Urban Education), University of Maryland, College Park, MD, USA Jodie L. Brinkmann School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Virginia Tech, Richmond, VA, USA Elissa Bryant Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX, USA Carol A. Burg English Language Arts Teacher, Clarendon School District 2, Sumter, SC, USA Mary A. Bussman University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, USA Shannon Calderone College of Education, Washington State University, Richland, WA, USA Mercedes A. Cannon Adaptive Educational Services Diversity Equity and Inclusion, Indiana University, Purdue University of Indiana, Indianapolis, IN, USA Carol S. Cash School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Virginia Tech, Richmond, VA, USA Edward P. Clapp Project Zero, Harvard Graduate School of Education, Cambridge, MA, USA Casey Cobb Department of Educational Leadership, Neag School of Education, University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA Karyn Cooper University of Toronto/Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, Toronto, ON, Canada Giovanni Emanuele Corazza Department of Electrical, Electronic, and Information Engineering, University of Bologna, Bologna, Italy Shelby Cosner College of Education, University of Illinois at Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA Daniel W. Eadens Educational Leadership and Higher Education, College of Community Innovation and Education, University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA Danielle M. Eadens Interdisciplinary Studies, College of Undergraduate Studies, University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA Fenwick W. English Teachers College, Ball State University, Muncie, IN, USA Monica Flamini Department of Lifelong Education, Administration, and Policy, University of Georgia, Athens, GA, USA Vlad P. Glaveanu Department of Psychology and Counseling, Webster University Geneva, Geneva, Switzerland

Contributors

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Ileana Gonzalez Counseling and Educational Studies, School of Education, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, MD, USA Jerome Graham College of Education, Criminal Justice, and Human Services, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, OH, USA Ashley Anne Grant Department of Educational Leadership and Policy, University at Buffalo, Buffalo, NY, USA Carolyn (Callie) Grant Education Department, Faculty of Education, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Sonya D. Hayes Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Studies, College of Education, Health and Human Sciences, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN, USA Walter F. Heinecke Educational Foundations, Leadership and Policy, School of Education, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, VA, USA Wesley Henry Department of Education and Leadership, College of Education, California State University Monterey Bay, Seaside, CA, USA Marsha Henry-Lewis University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA David I. Hernández-Saca University of Northern Iowa, Cedar Falls, IA, USA Aja C. Holmes Residence Life, Sacramento State University, Sacramento, CA, USA M. Francyne Huckaby Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX, USA Turonne Kalada Hunt Anchor Commission, Martinsville, VA, USA Kahlea Hunt-Khabir Department of Higher Education, University of Denver, Denver, CO, USA Sol Bee Jung Center for Talented Youth, School of Education, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, MD, USA Zorka Karanxha College of Education, University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA Julie Kasper University of Arizona and Carey Institute for Global Good, Tucson, AZ, USA James C. Kaufman Neag School of Education, University of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USA Laura-Lee Kearns Faculty of Education, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada Julian Kitchen Faculty of Education, Brock University, Hamilton, ON, Canada Cindy C. Klimaitis Roanoke County Public Schools, Roanoke, VA, USA

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Contributors

Lan Kolano University of North Carolina at Charlotte, Charlotte, NC, USA Pamela J. Konkol Concordia University Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA Jill Koyama Educational Policy Studies and Practice, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, USA Sharon D. Kruse College of Education, Washington State University, Vancouver, WA, USA Christopher Lanterman Department of Educational Specialties, College of Education, Northern Arizona University, Flagstaff, AZ, USA Angeliki Lazaridou School of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Thessaly, Volos, Greece Karen Seashore Louis Department of Organizational Leadership, Policy, and Development, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, USA Douglas J. Mac Iver Center for Social Organization of Schools, School of Education, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, MD, USA Bethany C. Mazurek Blue Ridge Autism and Achievement Center, Blue Ridge, VA, USA Jaime Chao Mignano Washington International School, Washington, DC, USA Emily Milne Department of Sociology, MacEwan University, Edmonton, AB, Canada Carol A. Mullen School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA Ellison Musara Education Department, Faculty of Education, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Star A. Norton E. A. Gibson Elementary School, Danville Public Schools, Danville, VA, USA Izhar Oplatka School of Education, Tel Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel Jeff Orr Faculty of Education, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada Azadeh F. Osanloo New Mexico State University, Las Cruces, NM, USA Katina W. Otey School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Virginia Tech, Richmond, VA, USA Jazmin P. Pichardo Department of Counseling, Higher Education, and Special Education, University of Maryland, College Park, MD, USA John C. Pijanowski University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR, USA

Contributors

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Vasiliki Polymeropoulou Greek Ministry of Education, Athens, Greece Linda Radford Faculty of Education, University of Ottawa, ON, Canada Diego Ramirez-Alonzo DePaul University, Chicago, IL, USA Adam Charles Rea University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA Briane L. Reck University of South Florida-Sarasota Manatee, Sarasota, FL, USA Samantha S. Reed Hillsville Elementary School, Carroll County Public Schools, Hillsville, VA, USA Meagan S. Richard College of Education, University of Illinois at Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA Whitney Neumeyer Roach Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX, USA Kim C. Robertson Center for Advanced Academics, Brown Summit Middle School, Brown Summit, NC, USA Daniel B. Robinson Department of Teacher Education, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada Ingrid M. Robinson Faculty of Education, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada Lavetta S. Ross Freehold Regional High School District, Monmouth University, Monmouth, NJ, USA Jason D. Salisbury College of Education, University of Illinois at Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA Shena Sanchez Graduate School of Education and Information Studies, University of California, Los Angeles, CA, USA Whitney Sherman Newcomb Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond, VA, USA Sarah Sheya Project Zero, Harvard Graduate School of Education, Cambridge, MA, USA Carolyn M. Shields Department of Administrative and Organizational Studies, College of Education, Wayne State University, Detroit, MI, USA George Sorkos Department of Education, School of Education, University of Nicosia, Nicosia, Cyprus Lolita A. Tabron Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Studies, University of Denver, Denver, CO, USA M. Nathan Tanner Department of Education Policy, Organization, and Leadership, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, Champaign, IL, USA

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Contributors

Leanne Taylor Faculty of Education, Brock University, St. Catharines, ON, Canada Amanda K. Thomas Department of Research Methods and Statistics, University of Denver, Denver, CO, USA Jason E. Titus Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX, USA Whitney Toledo Department of Lifelong Education, Administration, and Policy, University of Georgia, Athens, GA, USA Nicholas Triplett University of North Carolina at Charlotte, Charlotte, NC, USA Jenny S. Tripses Department of Education, Counseling, and Leadership, Bradley University, Peoria, IL, USA Jo-Anne Vorster Centre of Higher Education Research Teaching and Learning, Faculty of Education, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Kathryn Wagner University of North Carolina at Charlotte, Charlotte, NC, USA Anjalé D. Welton Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Analysis, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, WI, USA Robert E. White Faculty of Education, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada Barbara M. Wickham Montgomery County Public Schools, Christiansburg, VA, USA Sheneka M. Williams Department of Educational Administration, Michigan State University, East Lansing, MI, USA Marissa Winmill American College of Education, Indianapolis, IN, USA Angelica W. Witcher VTC School of Medicine, Office of Student Affairs, Roanoke, VA, USA Terry Wotherspoon Department of Sociology, University of Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, SK, Canada Sae Saem Yoon Mary Lou Fulton Teachers College, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA David C. Young Department of Curriculum and Leadership, St. Francis Xavier University, Antigonish, NS, Canada

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Introduction to the Collection Carol A. Mullen

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Purpose . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Organization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Features . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Impact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education is a Springer international handbook containing 57 chapters edited by Carol A. Mullen. The book’s thesis is that intervention is a critical component of social justice that transcends general ethical precepts. From around the globe, the contributors present contemporary social justice interventions in education. To cover the field comprehensively, the book is subdivided into five parts. Part I (general background) frames and appraises the status of social justice literature. Part II (leadership) features interventions and explorations in leadership settings and domains. Part III (schools) also addresses interventions and explorations but within preK–12 contexts. Part IV (higher education) examines interventions and explorations in higher education settings. Lastly, Part V (comparison) uses the lens of comparative studies to grapple with social justice in various educational situations. The contributors are strong advocates of justice from various academic disciplines, C. A. Mullen (*) School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_92

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professional fields, and countries. Together, these scholar–practitioners present literature-enhanced frameworks and, importantly, describe implementable social justice challenges and breakthroughs in learning environments. Contributors’ innovative and dynamic theory-informed applications in real-world contexts animate social justice theory and practice. Numerous justice-oriented positions, policies, methods, strategies, and tools are offered for the study of complex, difficult problems. While knowledge and educational and social utility are advanced, no “one way” is espoused for imagining the global community in which we live. Keywords

Comparison · Education · General background · Handbook · Intervention · Leadership · Schools · Social justice

Introduction Social justice intervention in education constitutes an original, substantive contribution to the educational field. The book theorizes that intervention is a critical component of social justice that goes beyond general ethical precepts. The International Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education features theory- and research-supported interventions in social justice within the educational realm, encompassing early years to higher education and leadership domains, mainstream and alternative formal and informal settings, and comparative contexts within and among nations. To situate this book in time and relative to world events, it was written while we, the contributors, were experiencing national and global threats to health, life, and liberty. The collection arose in the middle of a pandemic, traumatic racial violence, and massive protests demanding systemic change. Between supporting the Black Lives Matter movement and trying to protect ourselves and our loved ones from the effects of COVID-19 in 2020, many authors struggled to complete their chapters. We are personally affected by the horrific racial tragedies and brutal murders of innocent people of color. Unarmed, a black male named George Floyd was killed by police while in US custody – caught on video that went viral. In the aftermath, we are living with the distress and helplessness systemic racism causes, compounded by the danger of a tenacious pandemic. Yet, we see ourselves as part of the change that looks to a socially just, healed, and transformed world in education. A comprehensive reference, this handbook contains 57 chapters from different countries – Australia, Canada, Greece, Israel, Italy, South Africa, Turkey, and the United States. Most highly represented are contributions from North America. The many researchers and practitioners are not only from different nations and organizational contexts, but also various disciplines in the social sciences: educational leadership, higher education, and teacher education. Besides teaching and research faculty, authors are administrative leaders and community organizers. Importantly,

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they expose situational and systemic problems such as colonization, racism, and inequity. Next, I briefly describe the purpose of this project and the term social justice, and the organization of the book. Following that, I highlight the features of this volume. An overview of the contributing authors is then provided.

Purpose The purpose of this handbook was to draw attention to social justice intervention as a concept and practice in contemporary education. A strategy involved expressing and translating theoretical knowledge about social justice in practical terms and applying it in real-world educational contexts. My challenge to authors was to contribute original, substantive writing that reflected their expertise in social justice. They were urged to choose one of five areas of education: general background, leadership, schools, higher education, or comparison. At the outset, theoretical frameworks and implementable social justice work in and across learning environments were of interest – classrooms, programs, organizations, communities, and systems. Some chapters are more theoretical or conceptual in nature, while others review literature on a relevant topic or enliven actual phenomena and settings studied. Most of the chapters describe an educational intervention, including outcomes, implications, and takeaways. Interventions in education inform the knowledge base and theorize social justice – they reimagine the world and advance possibilities for continued exploration. Frequently, little attention in the literature is paid to educational interventions, including what the knowledge looks like in practice. To address this critical need, we collectively offer a mapping of the social justice knowledge base of interventions relative to general background frames, leadership, schools, higher education, and comparative contexts. Our robust, dynamic, and emergent theory-informed applications in real-world places reveal social justice epistemologies being tested at the ground level. Our activist orientations are empirical, ideological, political, personal, and professional – we dream of a better, socially just tomorrow and work toward healing and restoration.

Justice The term social justice is a broad, complex, and elusive concept, and theorists acknowledge that no consensus exists as to what it means (e.g., Bogotch and Shields 2014). We do seem to recognize that a liberation paradigm is “both process and a goal” (Writer 2008, p. 5). Targeted are macrolevel (in)justices and actual or material inequities that produce suffering for “particular racial, tribal, and ethnic groups” (Bogotch & Shields, p. 6). Social justice, while complex, is not only a “generic term for struggle against oppressive conditions and outcomes,” but also “a philanthropic process of ‘helping’ the at-risk and alleviating suffering”

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(Tuck and Yang 2012, p. 21). Educational discourses on social justice revolve around oppression and the oppressed, owing to systemic injustices such as poverty, exclusion, unemployment, and unequal opportunity, as well as the lack of social protection, security, and safety that manifests within places of education (Mullen 2020). Systems of oppression such as racism, sexism, ableism, and ageism must be defeated in educational systems. Five principles of social justice – self-determination, rights, participation, access, and equity – have been called from John Locke’s philosophical argument in support of “libertarian justice.” Rawlinson and Willimott (2016) proposed that these principles constitute a framework for fostering justice: Self-determination focuses on providing opportunities so that individuals can have control over their lives. The principle of rights is based on treating people with dignity and acknowledging the impact of social and cultural influences. Participation and access are based on inclusion with all groups being given the opportunity to utilise beneficial resources, while equity aims to reduce the barriers that can impact on success. (p. 41)

To illustrate, participation structures can be oriented around rights-based education and inclusive learning opportunities, equity frameworks and philosophies, and efforts to modernize – if not revolutionize – organizational cultures. Decolonizing systems, organizations, education, curriculum, classrooms, and so forth can aid equity and promote excellence. Culturally responsive teaching and learning engage educators and leaders in serving underserved populations while advancing their chances of success, contribution, and impact. Monitoring exploitation and eroding coloniality help mobilize social change (Mullen 2020). With respect to these definitions and tenets, Bell (2016) described social justice as a world in which the distribution of resources is equitable and ecologically sustainable, and all members are physically and psychologically safe and secure, recognized, and treated with respect. We envision a world in which individuals are both self-determining (able to develop their full capacities) and interdependent (capable of interacting democratically with others). (p. 3)

Put another way, “social justice is about providing empowering opportunities for individuals and groups so that they can achieve their desired goals” (Rawlinson and Willimott 2016, p. 42). Writer (2008), an Indigenous educator, asserted that colonialism must be reimagined and disrupted if social justice is to be realized. Interrogation, action, and study of oppression aimed at changing conditions of subjugation can transform systems. As operationalized, social justice advocacy calls upon educators in the critical work of creating just and equitable societies, and socially-just education in particular, through scholarship, teaching, and public service. As directly concerns the work of many contributors to this volume, social justice involves preparing education stakeholders like teachers, leaders, and parents for equity-minded work that benefits children, youth, families, and school communities.

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Organization To cover the field comprehensively, social justice education is divided into five book parts. • Part I (general background) frames and appraises the status of social justice literature. • Part II (leadership) features interventions and explorations in leadership settings and domains. • Part III (schools) also addresses interventions and explorations but within preK– 12 schooling contexts. • Part IV (higher education) accomplishes examination of interventions and explorations in relation to higher education settings. • Part V (comparison) tackles social justice in education but as comparative interventions and explorations within wide-ranging situations. Except for the general background section, the organizational structure is domain oriented (e.g., preK–12 schools), which allows for readily locating chapters of interest.

Features The five most important features of this handbook are: • Sustained attention on social justice interventions in real-world settings, with the support of theories and research, visions, and goals. • The international context, which is greatly enriched by the different perspectives on interventionist concepts, frameworks, models, policies, programs, pedagogies, curricula, and activities. • Action and advocacy across the educational spectrum on behalf of marginalized and traditionally underserved populations, which criticizes inequitable, dysfunctional systems using democratic ideology, theory, precept, and rhetoric. • The multiplicity of social justice interventions in education and leadership offers an array of possibilities, ideas, methods, strategies, and outcomes. • Easy access to the latest research-informed interventionist practices on a timely topic.

Contributors Leading activist scholar–practitioners who reflect the breadth and diversity of work in social justice education and leadership offer their accounts. We generally publish on social justice from different perspectives (e.g., equity, decolonization, and

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creativity), and for this book, decided what concepts and interventions to emphasize, and in what contexts. For instance, while some of us opted to write pieces that conceptualize or frame interventions, others reviewed the literature in a particular domain with relevance for implementation, and still others described both ideas from the literature and an intervention(s) in detail, weighing or discerning its efficacy/ impact. The contributors are strong advocates of social justice from widely ranging academic disciplines, professional fields, and countries. Together, they present literature-enhanced frameworks and describe implementable social justice work underway in learning environments. Contributors’ innovative and dynamic theoryinformed applications in the real world animate social justice theory and practice. Each intervention is theory-informed or research-based and contextually and culturally situated. We relay practical ideas and concrete examples in our experiential and experimental explorations. Numerous justice-oriented positions, policies, methods, strategies, and tools are offered for the study of complex, difficult problems. While knowledge and utility are advanced, no “one way” is espoused for imagining the global community in which we live. What is at stake, what noticeable impacts have been discerned, what has been learned, and what lies ahead are elements across chapters. By browsing chapter titles, the topical scope of each section emerges. In the leadership section (part II), for example, topics include policy interventions and programmatic efforts of university-based leadership preparation programs but are not limited to these. Fitting the interpretative spirit of the book, intervention is understood relative to particular groups or pervasive ideologies such as marketization/neoliberalism, racism, and so forth. With the authors being from different countries that have context-specific histories, systems, politics, curriculum, and programs, cultural and contextual variability is evident. Collectively though, our work is transdisciplinary, such as social justice advocacy itself. Social justice cannot be confined to a discipline or claimed by any particular nation, system, population, group, organization, or agency. Consider the boundary-spanning nature of such concepts and practices as, for example, activism, creativity, cultural competence, differentiation, diversity awareness, equity, feminism, healing, identity, inclusion, intervention, justice, reparation, resistance, restoration, social justice, solidarity, and voice.

Impact Having a lasting impact on injustice in educational institutions, communities, and societies requires that social justice precepts and visions are implemented. Possibilities are envisioned and explored, and outcomes reported. In order to truly advance socially just education, we collectively call for inclusive, impactful interventions; reimagine systems and norms; and produce new knowledge bases by deconstructing existing ones. By moving intervention to the fore, as a global community of praxisminded scholars, we privilege interventionist approaches and live investigatory work

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guided by theory. Thus, the hallmark of this collection is actionable social justice frames, interventions, applications, and implementations in (inter)national and comparative settings that aid in the progress toward revitalization and transformation, with benefit for current and future generations. We invite readers to contribute to the trends in social justice intervention being conveyed here, and by doing so, helping to ensure their effectiveness and intended impact. Relative to the collection, we offer continuous theorization and empirical investigation of social justice in educational contexts and cultures. We build on previous theorizing and research to interrogate colonization, marketization/neoliberalism, ineffective or nonexistent policy and leadership, lack of or weak agency and advocacy, and so forth. Social justice education and leadership are associated with consciousness-raising and calls to action. We uphold the role of leaders and pedagogues in modeling social justice work and reimagining antioppressive education through intervention. Cultural competency, and the capacity of teachers and faculty in this respect, is seen as a catalyst for disabling injustice in the classroom. Student engagement, voice, agency, and activism are taken up as germinating seeds for propelling advocacy within universities, schools, communities, workplaces, and policy and legislative contexts, especially predominantly white institutions. The rising awareness of hardship for immigrant, Indigenous, poverty-stricken, and other student populations, in addition to persistent challenges endured in urban and rural schooling environments, is interrupted with descriptions of purposeful programming and targeted activism.

Conclusion Finally, making available educationally and socially important material by people known for their courageous work provides readers with the latest on social justice interventions. You can build on the trends that emerged from the various chapters, and you may discover new ideas, strategies, and ways forward for fulfilling the mission of social justice in your own context. We encourage you to share your feedback with us so that we may continue the conversation. Our hope is that what you encounter proves informative and revealing, even inspiring. Ideas and strategies that have a particular draw could be worth trying out in your own educational setting. Readers, do you agree that it is time for all of us in education to work on behalf of social justice?

References Bell, L. A. (2016). Theoretical foundations for social justice education. In M. Adams & L. A. Bell, with D. J. Goodman & K. Y. Joshi (Eds.), Teaching for diversity and social justice (3rd ed., pp. 3–26). New York: Routledge. (1997, 1st ed.). Bogotch, I., & Shields, C. M. (2014). Introduction: Do promises of social justice trump paradigms of educational leadership? In I. Bogotch & C. M. Shields (Eds.), International handbook of educational leadership and social [in]justice (Vol. 1, pp. 1–12). New York: Springer.

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Mullen, C. A. (2020). Canadian Indigenous literature and art: Decolonizing education, culture, and society. Leiden: Brill. Rawlinson, C., & Willimott, M. (2016). Social justice, learning centeredness, and a first year experience peer mentoring program: How might they connect? Journal of Peer Learning, 9, 41–48. Tuck, E., & Yang, K. W. (2012). Decolonization is not a metaphor. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 1(1), 1–40. Writer, J. H. (2008). Unmasking, exposing, and confronting: Critical race theory, tribal critical race theory and multicultural education. International Journal of Multicultural Education, 10(2), 1–15.

Part I General Background of Social Justice Literature

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Pedagogies for Decolonizing Education in Theory and Practice Carol A. Mullen

Contents Overview and Purposes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Literature Review Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Salient Terms and Definitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discussion of Thematic Results . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Liberation/Advocacy Theories Guiding Pedagogy (Theme 1) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pedagogic Interventions from Five Disciplines (Theme 2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ten Literature-Based Tenets for Infusing Pedagogy (Theme 3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Transforming Mindsets Through Pedagogic Activism (Theme 4) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recommendations from the Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Collective Consciousness-Raising . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Culturally Responsive Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implications and Reflective Takeaways . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This literature-informed conceptual essay offers pedagogies for decolonizing education in theory and practice. Interventions that foster Indigenous education in mainstream public education are described, with the goals of changing racist mindsets and preparing future educators for disarming colonial–settler oppression. Indigenous education is topical within empirical studies from Canada and the United States. Researcher–pedagogues who apply colonial critique promote experimentations, assessments, and transformative possibilities. Taken as a whole, the discourse analyzed reveals four liberation/advocacy theories: C. A. Mullen (*) School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_91

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multicultural education, social justice, tribal justice, and TribalCrit. Ten literaturebased tenets were also identified for decolonizing/indigenizing education in support of new pedagogy and curricula, particularly in conventional learning environments. Additionally captured are five educational disciplines that advance understandings of indigeneity through experiential intervention: teacher education, educational leadership, community-centered education, environmental education, and youth education. While decolonial pedagogies in education are becoming gradually available, support of decolonization is missing or, at best, implicit in studies of mainstream education. In contrast, a politics of recognition along these lines is the central motif in the critical scholarship from cultural and political studies. In the mainstream, focus is on consciousness-raising around racist settler attitudes toward a distinct ethnic group (first people), whereas in the “radical” margins, settler colonialism combined with national supremacy separates Indigenous peoples and their plight from other colonized beings. Reflective takeaways are provided. Keywords

Canada · Consciousness-raising · De/colonization · Indigeneity · Indigenous education · Intervention · Pedagogy · United States

Overview and Purposes What does Indigenous literature impart about education and society with respect to social justice? Specifically, what pedagogies potentially decolonize education in theory and practice and can benefit teaching and learning? These speculative questions steered my review of select literature of Indigenous education. Sources analyzed advance Indigenous education as a critical exploration and interrogation of colonialism and its pervasive effects. They offer forward-thinking ways of conceptualizing, identifying, studying, and practicing Indigenous education. As contemporary literature reveals, educators fostering progressive pedagogies contribute to the sociopolitical dialogue and validate subaltern perspectives. To make the invisible visible, they endeavor to change mindsets, unsettle colonialism, and consider possibilities for a better world. This chapter supports these endeavors by bringing to the fore pedagogic theories and interventions on behalf of Indigenous education for decolonizing/indigenizing knowledges and the disciplines, institutions, and classrooms. Challenging the prevailing social order, the contributors cited are positioned differently in the academic discourse, depending on their occupation and role, academic discipline, and proximity to mainstream education. As a white female, I position myself as someone who is learning, unlearning, and relearning the (settler) world through Indigenous perspectives. The social, political, and educational advancement of Indigenous peoples is a calling for which I scrutinize my socialization and inherited power as a colonial settler and participate in change.

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In this literature synthesis I advance epistemologies, interventions, and alternatives aimed at transforming learning environments. Applying colonial critique, some of the authors offer incisive argument, whereas others promote theory-supported experimentations, assessments, and generative possibilities. Pedagogic pathways for justice coalesce around perspectives derived from liberation/advocacy theories and tenets for decolonizing/indigenizing education. Shedding light on contemporary issues of justice, advocacy, and reform in and beyond education from Indigenous perspectives is this chapter’s main purpose. At the interface of the published sources are politically infused ideas and practices that bear on both educational and societal reform. Racial consciousness-raising of settler learning spaces, like the conventional preservice teacher and leader classroom, impels a global movement to unsettle colonialism. Contributors to the politics of indigeneity predominantly appear in nonmainstream literature from cultural studies and other domains. A more specific purpose is to increase practical knowledge of Indigenous education and efforts in different educational disciplines to decolonize/indigenize schooling. This writing not only introduces theory-building from various angles but also synthesizes new programs, curricula, and activities to engage, confront, and transform colonial settler mindsets. In the sources cited herein, sites of engagement, justice, and change on behalf of decolonization extend from the classroom to society, and from the self to world. The discussion is organized around these topics: literature review strategies, salient terms and definitions, discussion of four thematic results, recommendations from the literature, and implications and reflective takeaways.

Literature Review Strategies To identify scholarly sources for systematic review, literature that illuminates Indigenous education with a colonial usage was searched. Primary interest was in North American Aboriginal contexts that resonate internationally with the topics under discussion. Several sources from outside Canada and the United States were included when illustrative of key points. Attention was on Indigenous and ally perspectives and voices, with education stakeholders (e.g., college students) as the population focus and higher education (e.g., preservice teacher and leader preparation), with connections to preK–12 schooling and school-communities. Indigenous literature selected for analysis spans 1998–2019. The 1998 Kingsbury source importantly surfaces the notion of group and international “mobilization” by Indigenous peoples, which more recent sources demarcate as the decolonization project, later discussed. Eligible candidates/sources for inclusion address de/colonization, some with value for real-world teaching and learning contexts or global contexts. Thus, topical reporting from the United Nations (UN), an international body tasked with advancing human rights, was deemed relevant. Sources excluded

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from the search process fell outside the timeline parameters, did not reflect Canadian or American contexts, and were not (sufficiently) focused on de/colonization in the contemporary Americas and/or Indigenous education. Databases searched were ERIC from WorldCat and Education Research Complete from EBSCOhost (also, Google Scholar). Keywords included Aboriginal, Canada, classroom, colonization, contemporary, curriculum, decolonization, education, genocide, global, indigeneity, Indigenous, Indigenous education, leader/ ship, mainstream education, North America, pedagogy, policy, and United States. Reporting categories encompassed empirical studies, conceptual essays, literature reviews, and reports. Sources selected for review were mainly scholarly peerreviewed articles, books, and book chapters with bearing for education. Out of 483 abstracts, 123 were chosen with the highest number of keyword “hits,” derived from 15,965 works dealing with Indigenous education and legal, political, and cultural issues.

Salient Terms and Definitions Central terms, which are defined, reveal controversies and tensions that shape the discourse on the subject at hand. Mainstream and Indigenous education are both pertinent to this topical scope. Lambe (2003) aptly described mainstream education as “focusing on empiricism, rationalism, and the factory metaphor and assembly line model of the industrial revolution,” whereas Indigenous education constitutes “traditional forms of knowledge [and] is intrinsically connected with culture, language, land, and knowledgeable elders and teachers” (p. 308). Language and naming – sources of “colonial power” and tribal power – are contested within the sources (e.g., Iseke-Barnes 2008). The specialized terms that follow are sometimes considered acceptable or even strategic for advancing Indigenous peoples’ issues and rights – paradoxically, all racial identifiers are artifacts of colonization except for those that tribes use for themselves to connote region, shared language, or historical connection. A strategy for decolonizing the colonial lexicon is to use tribes’ own self-referents. Tribal self-identifiers in the United States include, for example, “Navajo” and “Navajo Nation”; even more distinctive, “Colorado River Indian Tribes” applies to the ethnic Navajos within this tribe. Appropriate naming concerns the 573 US-based tribes (“List of Federally Recognized Tribes in the United States” 2018), whereas in present-day Canada, 600 Indian tribes/bands constitute First Nations, Métis, and Inuit (Kim 2015). Exercising vigilance and being respectful in naming tribes can increase cultural awareness as but one fundamental step for advancing decolonization in education and society. In the dominant discourse around naming, settler usages are pervasive – these dehumanize tribes and their identities, such as by ignoring tribes/bands’ own sense of self. Worldwide, terms continue to be in flux, debated, and unevenly supported, with some falling out of favor (such as Eskimo and Indian within the

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Canadian context; Indigenous Peoples in Canada 2021). Thus, the Indigenous lexicon within educational research and other scholarship is embedded within a shifting geopolitical discourse. Native American name controversy hints at the political process of naming and being named, which is behind the changing referents used in the Americas. “Native American,” a colonial linguistic convention, is not a term I use. Excluding Indigenous people outside the continental United States, it further dilutes Aboriginal causes, such as the transnational decolonization project. Aboriginal, like Indigenous, is a legal term, encompassing first people who existed in different regions of North America and are hence “native” (Indigenous Peoples in Canada 2021; Kingsbury 1998). In North America, popular racial identifiers are Aboriginal, First Nations, and Indigenous (Iseke-Barnes 2008; Munroe et al. 2013). “Indigenous peoples,” clarified Kingsbury (1998), is “applied globally,” and while the subject of “sharp protests,” it is a “dynamic” abstraction that shapes racial “categories” (p. 414). Indigenous and Aboriginal have global currency, thus they are used herein, especially the former. Indigenous refers to a culturally distinct group affected by colonialism that “inhabited lands before . . . annexation,” maintains a tribal heritage and cultural identity, and “claim[s] nationhood status” (Castagno and Brayboy 2008, p. 944). These terms, commonly reflected in the sources reviewed, also appear in formal curriculum materials (e.g., the Ontario education system) (Kim 2015). Iseke-Barnes (2008), who self-identifies as Métis, prefers Indigenous as a usage, reasoning that it has the “broadest potential application and inclusiveness” (p. 125). Utribe (2006) argued, however, that while tribes do share similarities, “many differences” exist in heritage, language, spiritual beliefs, and cultural and educational practices; hence, they do not constitute the same “Indigenousness.” Alfred and Corntassel (2005) wrote that while many Indigenous people have embraced [governments’] label of “Aboriginal” with respect to tribal nomenclature, “Aboriginalism” is a . . . discourse designed to serve an agenda of silent surrender to an inherently unjust relation at the root of the colonial state itself. (p. 598)

Aware of the colonial entanglements associated with “Indigenous” and the other terms, Iseke-Barnes (2008) positioned them as purposeful when used to facilitate indigeneity, specifically dialogue and tribal action: Each term is a colonial creation that collectivizes distinct groups of peoples and therefore can be challenged as colonial tools. But each term also facilitates dialogue on particular political histories and is used in particular contexts. Each term also allows Indigenous peoples with distinct heritages to work collectively. (pp. 124–125)

Other contributors take a cue from Castagno and Brayboy (2008) by capitalizing “Indigenous” to raise awareness of shared political identity. While connoting different meanings, indigeneity invokes “being Indigenous” with “conscious intent” and “asserting self-determination and freedom” (Alfred and Corntassel 2005, p. 614).

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The settler–Indigenous conflict inherent in the language debate points to just how deep-rooted colonial injustice is. Activist educators and scholars aim to unsettle life in colonial America and other world societies. For example, colonization (colonialism) is a commonplace term for justifying the exploitation of Indigenous peoples and their territories to benefit those in power (Tuck and Yang 2012). Consider governments’ use of Aboriginal, such as the Canadian federal government’s, which arguably exerts control over the nation’s distinct tribes – First Nations, Inuit, and Métis – by collapsing them into a nonentity. Thus, in education and society at large, “occupation, control, and exploitation” can be inconspicuous, as in the erosion of distinct tribal identities and omission of Indigenous content from official school curriculum. Further, neo-colonization “undermines cultural values,” enabling “a new form of colonization” and discrimination to persist in policy and curriculum (Kim 2015, p. 20). Decolonization exists in direct political opposition to colonization (and neo-colonization), with the goal of eradicating domination over tribes and advancing Indigenous interests (McGregor 2018). Signaling the simultaneous use of colonization and decolonization, I coined the term de/colonization (see Mullen 2019b).

Discussion of Thematic Results Thematic results pertaining to decolonizing education include (1) liberation/advocacy theories guiding pedagogy, (2) pedagogic interventions from five disciplines, (3) ten literature-based tenets for infusing pedagogy, and (4) transforming mindsets through pedagogic activism.

Liberation/Advocacy Theories Guiding Pedagogy (Theme 1) Reflected in the Indigenous discourse are four liberation/advocacy theories: multicultural education, social justice, tribal justice, and TribalCrit. Each is briefly described.

Multicultural Education Multiculturalism, and multicultural education, celebrates diversity in schools and society. Explained as a morality paradigm, it is premised on the assumptions that ethnic or cultural discrimination is not acceptable and that sensitivity to differences in ethnicity and culture upholds social justice (Stables 2007). A counterargument is that multiculturalism equates the colonization of Indigenous peoples with racism against them, thereby subverting their plight (Coulthard 2014; Ghosh 2018). Decolonization is “a distinct project from other civil and human rights-based social justice projects,” but it gets “subsumed”; “settler colonialism” is not like “other forms of colonialism in that settlers come with the intention of making a new home on the land” and having “sovereignty” (Tuck and Yang 2012, pp. 2, 5). By making

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colonialism about racial inequality, multicultural education actually worsens the problem of settler domination. Offering yet another view of multiculturalism, Indigenous educator Writer (2008) theorized that educational progress could result from rethinking “multicultural education” as social justice. Multicultural education has advanced discourse on power and oppression relative to schools, education, and societies. Transformation of “educational and societal structures” in support of decolonization becomes imaginable, then, “by disrupting and countering colonization. As absences, silences, inaccurate representations, and static portrayals give way to Indigenous frames of reference . . . colonization is unmasked, exposed, confronted, and transformed” (Writer 2008, p. 11). Rather than abandoning multiculturalism as too “distinct” from justice-oriented ends, Writer’s (2008) reframing may serve the interests of Indigenous futurity and global sustainability. A related possibility, I think, is for multicultural education to be redirected by creatively combining it with tribal justice and/or TribalCrit (see Mullen 2020a).

Social Justice Unlike multiculturalism, social justice theory targets the systematic workings of power and oppression beyond schools, not just within them, and it is interrogative (Bogotch and Shields 2014). It gives students a critical lens for seeing where injustice and unfairness exist in the world. A broad concept for which there is no agreement, social justice encompasses macrolevel (in)justices and actual or material inequities that produce suffering for groups whose rights have been violated (Bogotch and Shields 2014, p. 6) and whose education, life, land, and history are colonized (Fredericks et al. 2014). Appearing to build on these ideas, Bell (2016) described social justice as a world in “which the distribution of resources is equitable and ecologically sustainable, and all members are physically and psychologically safe and secure, recognized, and treated with respect” (p. 3). Beyond this, “Individuals [would be] both selfdetermining (able to develop their full capacities) and interdependent (capable of interacting democratically with others)” (Bell 2016, p. 3). Positing an intersection between social justice and tribal justice, Writer (2008) responded to Bell’s (2016) statement (originally appearing in 1997). It is this social justice definition [of Bell’s] that works to the advantage of Indigenous Peoples; it is here that the disruption of colonization can occur. As both process and a goal, social justice advances the interrogation of the manifestations of power and the dynamics of oppression, such as in the distribution of resources that individuals have access to and the experiences [owing] to their privileged or non-privileged status. From this interrogation, a plan of action is developed to transform systems of oppression. Social justice requires the study of historical issues and events to understand the manifestations of oppression in its present form. (p. 5)

To Writer (2008), Bell’s words allow tribally oriented justice to be interpreted, even though the colonization reference (made by Bell) is not specific to Indigenous communities and the burden of white settlement and supremacy. Nonetheless, Writer

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envisions possibilities for adapting the social justice paradigm to decolonization goals, thereby making it advantageous to processes of unsettling colonization on behalf of tribal justice. From this light, a decolonial framework for social justice would extend beyond blanketed advocacy for equity, opportunity, inclusivity, and fairness. Fundamentally decolonizing laws and policies, societal systems, and educational institutions to uphold Aboriginal rights is central. Injustices toward Indigenous peoples include dispossession and gaps in wealth and governmental policies, and an education reducing those with low socioeconomic status to poverty without their cultures, homes, languages, and sometimes their own children (Coulthard 2014; Fredericks et al. 2014; McCarty 2018; Mullen 2020a; Tabar and Desai 2017; Tuck and Yang 2012). Social justice, then, a liberation paradigm, can be compared to tribal justice. Indigenous scholars who debate the usefulness of social justice for Aboriginal goals describe it as “generic” in the “struggle” against oppression and a humanitarian method of “‘helping’ the at-risk and alleviating suffering” (Tuck and Yang 2012, p. 21). To critics like Tuck and Yang (2012), social justice limits, even renders invisible, tribal justice’s pro-independence ideology and political aims. For other tribal justice advocates like Writer (2008), social justice and tribal justice theory share concern over systemic injustices, and social theory can be utilized to advance Indigenous interests and needs. However, the counter (from Tuck and Yang and others) would likely be that the lack of (explicit) attention social justice theory gives to colonialism misses the opportunity for targeted advocacy where desperately needed.

Tribal Justice Tribal justice is, arguably, distinct from social justice (and certainly multiculturalism), although some theorists imagine generative possibilities and intersections, as previously noted. Indigeneity-minded social justice has been coined tribal justice (Mullen 2019b, 2020a), with focus intently on settler colonization and decolonization in all domains, including schooling and education. Except in my own publications, to the extent known, tribal justice does not appear to have been named as such. Indigeneity as defined earlier seems to fit with, or even be equivalent to, tribal justice, thus the discussion proceeds with this in mind. Tribal justice is a grand-scale initiative taking such advocacy forms as the decolonization project. Spurred by settler colonization and genocidal outcomes, the decolonization project (as identified by Fredericks et al. 2014; Tabar and Desai 2017, etc.) is an activist global approach to battling for tribal sovereignty (selfdetermination and self-governance) over land, natural resources (“native title” in Australia), and education. Around the world, colonial injustices displace and dehumanize tribes whose home/lands are exploited, even destroyed, through such means as extractive industries’ (oil, gas, and mining) megaprojects that accelerate global warming (Huseman and Short 2012; Mullen 2019a, 2020a). Rights that are backed include recognition, restoration, and reparation and the mirroring of these in desired responsibilities that inhere in governance, notably, accountability to ecosystems and

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their sustainability (Fredericks et al. 2014; Mullen 2019a, 2020a). While social justice has become part of mainstream education, tribal justice aims, perspectives, and discourse occupy “radical” spaces (Coulthard 2014; Tuck and Yang 2012). A mission of indigeneity is to dismantle colonialism and the patriarchal, punitive, and exclusionary systems of settler nations (Coulthard 2014; McCarty 2018; Mullen 2020a; Tuck and Yang 2012; Woolford and Benvenuto 2015). Activist scholars like those cited push for the dismantling of tribal justices that include Western frameworks, knowledge, and epistemology. Such modalities absorb colonial assimilation and history and discount “alternative epistemologies” by dominating with a deficit perspective, which limits the capacity to even imagine them (Windchief and Brown 2017, p. 11; also, Mullen 2020b; Writer 2008). Critical empirical studies, as applied to the colonization of North American Indigenous communities through assimilationist education, examine widespread inequitable, ineffective, and inappropriate schooling that results in severe penalties like unemployment and underemployment. Facing poor educational and occupational prospects, Indigenous high school students in the United States have the highest dropout rate of all racial/ethnic groups and disproportionate failure, with subaverage test scores (National Center for Education Statistics 2017; Reyhner 2017), mirrored at the Canadian postsecondary level (McGregor 2013; Mullen 2020a). Tribally just education counters these troubling educational trends by tending to the origin: the historic and systemic demoralizing of Aboriginal peoples. Culturally responsive programs, pedagogies, and measures are aimed at not only developing students’ learning capacity and skills but also tailoring them to their particular cultures, goals, values, interests, and needs (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; McGregor 2013, 2018; Mullen 2019b; Pinto and Blue 2015; Windchief and Brown 2017). Racism and other inequities (e.g., sexism, homophobia, and classism) are frequently experienced by Indigenous students in conventional public schools and classrooms, not only from non-Indigenous students but also teachers (e.g., Hare and Pidgeon 2011). Consciousness-raising can help but is ensnared in controversy. Such pedagogic strategies, while central to social justice concepts and teaching, do not necessarily lead to action and can amount to liberated settlers’ attempts to relieve guilt for maintaining the status quo (e.g., Tuck and Yang 2012). Even battles fought over high-stakes standardized testing avoid the topic of de/colonization in its unique effect on tribal nations, despite the fact that it should be the concern of entire world societies (Mullen 2020a). An Indigenous ethic would import some hard realities that are carefully theorized in education, including educational leadership (my discipline), and that advance the justice canons. Where effective, Indigenous education would account for Aboriginal children and youth’s bicultural literacy with Indigenous and Western paradigms and capability for navigating different worlds to increase their chances for success in, and contributions to, society (McCarty 2018; Mullen 2020a; Verbos and Humphries 2014; Writer 2017). For example, academic development along these lines would presumably incorporate twenty-first-century global competencies, given the workplace demand for knowledge and skills in communication, collaboration, creativity,

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entrepreneurship, and more. However, such preparation can still be “assimilationist” and steeped in Western values. Identity development, such as around ethics (e.g., cooperation, respect, and balance in life), can easily get lost, according to Reyhner’s (2017) study of Indigenous parental viewpoints. Power imbalances in Indigenous education and futurity make colonialism a political–ethical–educational violation of the tallest order. Hence, I resisted “collapsing” tribal justice into a subcategory of social justice theory. Given the explanations culled from various sources, settler colonialism and connections with land, territorial claims, and repatriation are currently beyond social justice, multicultural, and other theorization but, if conceptualized differently, could enrich, if not revolutionize, education and pedagogy. All such complex elements of a contemporary Indigenous worldview dynamically shape political ideology and justice globally.

TribalCrit TribalCrit (critical tribal theory) brings to light the pervasiveness of colonization in society and racism against Aboriginal peoples that permeates US federal laws and policies, while sparking educational roadmaps for change. According to originator Brayboy (2005), it “expose[s] the inconsistencies in structural systems and institutions . . . and make[s] the situation better for Indigenous students” (p. 441). A motivation for creating this framework was to address the barely perceptible state of Aboriginal peoples as “legal/political and racialized beings” (p. 432). For example, Brayboy asserted, “CRT was originally developed to address the [U.S.] Civil Rights issues of African American people” and the “‘black–white’ binary” (p. 429). The motivation behind tribalCrit was to visibalize Indigenous issues and responsibilities of colonial institutions and settlers to Aboriginal student populations. The theory’s foremost educational purpose is to help education stakeholders recognize inherited Indigenous realities and encourage Aboriginal youth to seek to be understood within schooling systems. Within this worldview, students are among the many actors responsible for decolonizing the world, and “when [they] feel empowered and have greater agency . . ., education is both more meaningful and socially responsible” (Castagno and Brayboy 2008, p. 963). The nine tenets of TribalCrit (as paraphrased) are: 1. Colonization is endemic to society. 2. US policies toward Indigenous peoples are rooted in imperialism, White supremacy, and a desire for material gain. 3. Indigenous peoples occupy a liminal space that accounts for both the political and racialized natures of their identities. 4. The desire is to obtain tribal autonomy, self-determination, and self-identification (i.e., sovereignty). 5. Culture, knowledge, and power concepts require examination through an Indigenous lens. 6. Governmental and educational policies involving first people are linked to the problematic goal of assimilation.

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7. Tribal philosophies, beliefs, customs, traditions, and visions for the future are central to understanding Indigenous peoples’ realities, but they also illustrate the differences and adaptability among individuals and groups. 8. Indigenous stories are real and legitimate data sources and ways of being. 9. Theory and practice are connected in deep and explicit ways such that scholars must work toward social change (Brayboy 2005). A direction for schooling is to widely adopt the tenets to policy, programming, and curriculum by addressing Aboriginal frameworks, goals, values, and concerns. Finding ways to combine multicultural education and social justice with other liberation frameworks (e.g., TribalCrit and tribal justice) to advance the decolonization is one such course of action. TribalCrit theory could jumpstart an Indigenous orientation to leadership, policy, and practice domains involving pedagogy, curriculum, and assessment. To illustrate with tenet number eight, if approached as Indigenous storytelling through myth and fable, a course goal/lesson objective could be to deconstruct (or expose) settler worldviews, assumptions, biases, and values by doing a critical tribal reading of a colonial text (e.g., popular children’s fable). Real-world examples of pedagogic Indigenous storytelling with postsecondary student groups are modeled by Indigenous experts (e.g., Iseke-Barnes 2009). They report educational outcomes like changes in how non-Aboriginal and Aboriginal students in teacher education and other programs view the world and themselves in it, benefitting the development of their relational selfhood and agency. Importantly, Writer (2008) who is Indigenous added that learning about “stories and words” as Indigenous knowledge is inclusive of “non-Indigenous people so they may come to know and move into ally-ship with us for that needed transformative work” (p. 10). Making schooling receptive to Indigenous students is simply not enough for transformational ends. In keeping with TribalCrit, Castagno and Brayboy (2008) contended, “sovereignty and self-determination, racism, and Indigenous epistemologies” all need centering in education that encompasses but does not stop with “culturally responsive schooling” (p. 941). The UN (2017) acknowledged Castagno and Brayboy’s (2008) cultural approach for changing the status quo and referenced the Alaska Native Knowledge Network’s success with it: “Students who are knowledgeable culturally benefit[ted] not only in terms of performance, but emotionally as well.” Indigenous children and youth who are immersed in their own cultures and languages have better retention and attendance, as well as positive developments in identity and self-confidence. Such culturally responsive education could potentially impact not just education but also systems and structures. Brayboy’s (2005) notion of liminality, an inherited colonial state of being, marks a threshold or transitional period of a passage. Liminal status is held by those who lack social status or rank; are anonymous, obedient, and humble; and follow prescriptions of conduct. Accountability in support of Indigenous justice and futurity would enact conditions and circumstances, such as strength-based pedagogies (e.g., leveraging strengths and preferred modes for developing knowledge and skills), so Indigenous students and stakeholders could experience success and empowerment,

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in essence disturbing liminality. In “ally-ship” (Writer’s 2008 term), formal and informal leaders would partner as agents around tribal justice and cultural and environmental sustainability of Indigenous communities (also Robinson et al. 2019).

Pedagogic Interventions from Five Disciplines (Theme 2) Emerging from this review synthesis are five disciplines of Indigenous education: teacher education, educational leadership, community-centered education, environmental education, and youth education. These academic domains forward aspects of indigeneity through experiential intervention and demonstrate theory-supported applications in secondary, postsecondary, and/or community-based learning environments. Teacher education is the most prolific contributor to the sources where theory is applied, with mainstream classrooms constituting the site of Indigenous implementation. Table 1 has these highlights. Table 2 expands Table 1, with each category of “education” presented in detail. However, Table 2 is not exhaustive of the material analyzed on Indigenous cultural interventions and practical applications in educational settings. One takeaway from Table 2 and the discussion to follow is that experimentation with Indigenous pedagogy within the teacher education discipline is comparatively active and productive, as mentioned, and that other disciplines may find it useful to apply theory to practice. Also, as depicted on both tables, Indigenous-specific interventionist research occurs in at least three other areas of education: community-centered education, environmental education, and youth education. As may be apparent, education that is broadly conceived surpasses conventional understandings of education that do not account for Aboriginal students’ life-worlds. Bound to institutions of formal learning and disassociated from aspects of life not central to student health, community, environment, and adolescence, mainstream education could benefit from absorbing unconventional areas of education (e.g., community-centered education) (see Table 2). Table 1 Academic disciplines’ interventionist examples from the Americas. (Adapted from Mullen 2020a) Educational discipline Teacher education Educational leadership Community-centered education Environmental education Youth education

Interventionist example Facilitate student filmmaking cuing colonialism (Aitken and Radford 2018) Renewal of school-community in Aboriginal territory (Robinson et al. 2019) Make connections with native elders and communities (Writer 2017) Reform industrial exploitation of tribal communities (Huseman and Short 2012) Hold Indigenous for on public and reserve schooling (Hare and Pidgeon 2011)

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Table 2 Abbreviated list of research-based interventions for decolonizing education in five academic disciplines. (Adapted from Mullen 2020a) Source Country Teacher education Aitken and Canada Radford (2018)

Iseke-Barnes (2008)

Canada

Kitchen and Raynor (2013)

Canada

Madden (2015)

Canada, USA, Australia, & New Zealand

Research purposes, strategies, and findings Purpose: To understand non-Indigenous preservice teachers’ perceptions of reconciliation and de/colonization in Canada. Strategies: Collaboratively producing short films, students drew upon college campus images cuing colonialism. Research-informed storytelling was elicited around important concepts, giving students “freedom to read themselves” (p. 43). Other techniques involved “encounters with speakers, testimony, various texts, and simulations [of dispossession]” (p. 44), plus reflective blogs and research notes. Findings: Themes identified were “new recognition, changes in self-awareness, and [emotional reactions to] teaching for reconciliation” (p. 44) Purpose: To identify oppression relative to “colonization and decolonization” (p. 123). Strategies: Facilitating knowledge of systems of colonial power and ways to disrupt them, students created “two imaginary societies” built upon assumptions of hierarchy, competition, etc., in one society, and connection, cooperation, etc., in the other. Using diagrams, they mapped connections with education, law, and hierarchy. Findings: Colonial strategies (e.g., breaking down Indigenous relations) were paired with colonial actions (e.g., using the dominant language and Eurocentric teachings to assimilate Indigenous students; removing children from families) Purpose: To “increase understanding of Indigenous peoples” and the “impact of colonization on Aboriginal communities,” as well as “prepare [teacher candidates] to indigenize their curriculum and teaching methods” (pp. 40, 52). Strategies: Integrating reflective discussion, the instructors led experiential activity, opportunities to learn from Indigenous elders’ perspectives, and enactments of native rituals. Findings: Euro-Canadian students evidenced deep thinking about Indigenous culture, identity, and teaching Purpose: To review literature on decolonizing pedagogies in teacher education and identify “prevailing pedagogical pathways [for engaging] Indigenous education” (p. 1). Strategies: Utilizing “storywork,” “residential school survivors’ [stories],” and “counternarratives” to “colonial productions” of history. Findings: Four pathways resulted from analysis of 23 studies of how teacher educators engage students in Canada and elsewhere: (continued)

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Table 2 (continued) Source

Country

Research purposes, strategies, and findings “learning from Indigenous tradition models of teaching, pedagogy for decolonizing, Indigenous and antiracist education, and Indigenous and place-based education” (p. 3)

Educational leadership Robinson Canada et al. (2019)

Community-centered education Tunison Canada (2013)

Writer (2017)

United States

Purpose: To examine Mi’kmaw female school principals’ leadership contexts and approaches within an Aboriginal territory in Nova Scotia. Strategies: Using conversation as a research method, Mi’kmaw female principals were engaged one-onone and through sharing circles. Findings: Culturally renewed school-community realities were a direct reflection of the enabling contexts (e.g., cultural, organizational) experienced by the leaders. Owing to the supportive forces and dynamics from multiple domains (e.g., family, community), the principals could hold their positions, which in turn allowed “cultural revitalization” in the Indigenous schoolcommunity Purpose: To investigate whether Canadian Aboriginal students’ educational achievement improved based on a “family-community-school partnership” intervention. Strategies: The familycommunity-school linkages of the Wicehtowak Partnership in Saskatchewan were examined to determine effects on Aboriginal learning outcomes. Eleven schools teachers and administrators were surveyed. Findings: Aboriginal learning did not significantly improve, but students did report positive learning experiences. The partnership produced strong relationships between the district and Aboriginal family representatives Purpose: To support Indigenous students’ academic achievement and citizenship through communitycentered education. Strategies: Make meaningful inroads into native communities as non-Indigenous educators by initiating dialogue with parents and community members; establishing trust and commitment; learning the tribal community’s values; modeling respect of Aboriginal students; and incorporating tribal “values, knowledges, and worldviews” (pp. 170–171). Findings: Educational leaders and educators must work with tribal communities for successful learning in Western academic contexts; further, “student as citizen of and centered in community” is a more apt “educational philosophy” for tribes than even “student-centered education” (p. 173) (continued)

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Table 2 (continued) Source Country Environmental education Huseman and Canada Short (2012)

Youth education Hare and Canada Pidgeon (2011)

Research purposes, strategies, and findings Purpose: To learn the impact of industrial development on regional Indigenous communities and ecosystems (e.g., the Tar Sands Gigaproject’s oil extraction in northern Alberta). Strategies: Stakeholders (native activists and academics, climate scientists) revealed “lethal ramifications on the Indigenous peoples of North America” (p. 9). Findings: Ecological genocide threatens First Nations communities through colonial expansionism. Toxic waste from Tar Sands extraction flows into water systems, leading to rare cancers and the curtailment of fishing. Quality of life implications are profound for tribes. Environmental education should be integrated into schooling processes and policy development Purpose: To explore First Nations adolescents’ reflections on their “reserve and public schooling” relative to their experiences (p. 93). Strategies: Using a forum and interview sessions to engage native youth in high school, graduated, and non-completing, a youth education study was conducted. Findings: “Racism” toward the youth was “prevalent” from non-Indigenous students and teachers. All youth (N ¼ 39) considered teachers “the source of racist attitudes” (p. 100)

Academic disciplines that are leading change identify pressing twenty-first-century issues of indigeneity, such as systemic discrimination against tribes and the need for Indigenous voice, inclusion, advocacy, and leadership. Significant gaps for North American Aboriginal peoples remain in all quality-of-life areas from health and economics to education (Faircloth 2018; Tunison 2013). Processes and outcomes that are needed – such as culturally responsive instruction and services, policy change, reconciliation, and reparation – are also taken up in these sources. Based on the search results, the leading disciplines are teacher education, cultural studies, anthropology, political studies, sociology, and educational policy studies. These produce alternative discourses that are radical, theoretical, conceptual, and explanatory, and, to varying degrees, pedagogical. Educational leadership shows promise with emerging studies that address social justice for tribes within leadership contexts – namely schools, communities, governments, and nations (Faircloth 2018; Fredericks et al. 2014; Keddie and Niesche 2012; Mullen 2019b, 2020a; Robinson et al. 2019). For example, Keddie and Niesche (2012) reported disturbances associated with a white principal’s governance of a rural Australian Indigenous school. The leader’s relationship with indigeneity was found to be culturally lacking and her

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worldview irreconcilable with Indigenous life. Outcomes indicate that this leader’s behaviors were normalizing white hegemony at the expense of Indigenous engagement, empowerment, and sovereignty. Indigenous students felt segregated and alienated. Offering juxtaposition and hope, Indigenous language immersion schools report success with Aboriginal students (e.g., Reyhner 2017). Nine principals in Canada revealed their support for Aboriginal students’ school experiences being positive and “relationships” affirming while learning in “culturally relevant” ways (Preston et al. 2017). In another Canadian study, five Indigenous principals enabled cultural renewal within their Aboriginal territory that benefitted stakeholders (Robinson et al. 2019; see Table 2 herein). These studies validated the importance of tribal justice at the level of leadership for shaping a culture inclusive of Aboriginal students and their families/communities. Madden’s (2015) Canadian study identified four “pedagogical pathways” for implementing Indigenous education, redirecting university-based teacher education programs, and immersing future teachers in new ways of seeing: (1) “learning from Indigenous traditional models of teaching,” (2) “pedagogy for decolonizing,” (3) “Indigenous and anti-racist education,” and (4) “Indigenous and placed-based education” (p. 3; Table 2).

Ten Literature-Based Tenets for Infusing Pedagogy (Theme 3) Research in teacher education and other disciplines expresses beliefs and values conducive to decolonizing teaching and learning. To this end, the literature, synthesized in list form, offers principles for thoughtful practice. Deliberate efforts to disrupt settler colonialism through discourse and action are urged in mainstream educational settings; for example, taking steps for ensuring a nonassimilationist approach to pedagogy and curriculum are expected (Verbos and Humphries 2014). Ten literature-based tenets follow for fostering Indigenous education.

Shed Colonial Epistemologies Settler epistemologies that perpetuate industrial, behavioral, and evaluative models in education (Lambe 2003) are shed, with cultural and ecological forms of Indigenous knowledge being embraced. Decolonization activities are rooted in studentand community-centered epistemologies (Hare and Pidgeon 2011; Writer 2017). Make Genocide Explicit Cultural genocide is exposed and colonial histories taught to disrupt Western knowledge and its racial filters that negate Indigenous truth-telling about colonialism and traumatic generational effects. With education systems being complicit in genocide, educators are called upon to impart the injustice and seek new ways forward (Woolford and Benvenuto 2015).

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Expose Settler Colonialism Racial pedagogies reveal both conditions and complexities of colonization systems, thereby unmasking settler control and exploitation. Educators guide critical thinking, create opportunities for deepened reflection, and facilitate new modes of expression (Tuck and Yang 2012). Students are encouraged to navigate settler conditions and explore aboriginality, assert (new) Indigenous knowledge, and analyze ways for transforming disenfranchised lives. Teach Indigenous Paradigms Culturally contextualized learning in classrooms aligns with Indigenous worldviews (Assembly of First Nations [AFN], 2010). Importantly, values specific to tribal communities must be acknowledged to show respect and engage students in profound learning (Writer 2017, p. 170). Salient aspects of Inuit education in Canada include “environmental knowledge, experiential learning, caring between teacher and learner, and family control over child-rearing” (McGregor 2013, p. 93). Indigenous attuned pedagogy, curricula, scholarship, and research can help students “see” that settlers colonize, and how and with what effects. Generalities and abstractions are anchored to make ideas relatable and assist continued learning. Opportunities are available for articulating such concepts as colonization and settler epistemology, and for countering with objections (Aitken and Radford 2018; Tuck and Yang 2012). Create Values-Aligned Curriculum New learning about Indigenous “ways of knowing,” “being,” and “core values” is translated into curriculum and programming (Writer 2017; also Iseke-Barnes 2008, 2009). A recommendation is not to collapse “collective-comprised tribal identity” into “an individualized ethnic identity”; cultural diversity among tribes and variation in Indigenous peoples’ values is observed (Tuck and Yang 2012, p. 23). Consult Sources to Indigenize Curricula Indigenous sources for curriculum development assist in generating authentic, critical, creative, and racially appropriate ideas. In some cases, university students’ sociopolitical thinking has changed with exposure to tribal frameworks combined with “performance-based activities,” “creative writing,” and more (GaztambideFernández et al. 2016). In another college classroom, Indigenous and Black students “creatively and critically analyze[d] a memory, artifact, or lived experience” that spoke to their socialization within colonial systems (Palacios 2016, p. 163). Artifacts of learning were video essays and digital stories. Collaborate with Indigenous Experts Collaboration with Indigenous experts has advanced pedagogy with respect to Indigenous knowledge and aligned curriculum: “It is preferable that Indigenous teachers or [those] in strong collaboration with Indigenous scholars or local Indigenous leaders initiate and develop an understanding of Indigenous knowledge in part to prevent its assimilation into a largely unchanged curriculum” (Verbos and

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Humphries 2014, p. 7). Finding ways to reach out and learn from Indigenous communities about their perspectives, concerns, solutions, and dreams is advisable (Writer 2017) and includes problem-solving with tribal representatives. Indigenous traditions value dialogic engagement in arriving at decisions (Palacios 2016).

Foster Bicultural Indigenous Peoples Whether in mainstream or native educational contexts, cultural programming incorporates both Indigenous and Western knowledge and values. Indigenous learners become biculturally literate and adaptive to cope with disengagement, failure, and dropout, and rapid changes in the global age (McCarty 2018; Mullen 2020a; Verbos and Humphries 2014). Model Change Hostile, genocidal behaviors are eradicated in classrooms, such as by addressing socialization from childhood through interventions. Racial microaggressions – among these, racist name-calling (e.g., “redskin”), mental conditioning (e.g., “Ten Little Indians”), and stereotypes (e.g., natives are inferior) – have been targeted in courses (Robertson 2015). Colonial tactics (e.g., ignoring, avoiding, and denying) can assist with identifying and diagnosing situations where settlers oppress Indigenous peoples, advance colonial agendas, and block responsibility for recognition (Iseke-Barnes 2008). Take Action Indigenous education goes beyond raising awareness about colonialism and oppression. To Tuck and Yang (2012), pedagogy of place trumps consciousness-raising, making home/land an imperative for reform that must be taught in the academy. Action as conceived in teacher education studies portrays preservice classrooms as participatory sites for confronting colonialism. Attention is on educating about Indigenous culture while introspectively unpacking Western knowledge to expose historically entrenched racism. Other actions involve unraveling preservice defenses and biases and transforming settler mindsets through engagement, reflection, and activity (Aitken and Radford 2018; Iseke-Barnes 2008; Kitchen and Raynor 2013; Madden 2015). On a broader scale, programming around Indigenous education also needs to target the preparation of preservice and practicing leaders in educational leadership programs. Tribal justice for Indigenous populations has yet to appear as an ethical framework in the preparation of graduate students for the principalship, superintendency, and other leadership roles. Ethics in this discipline embrace vulnerable student populations generally and from a social justice perspective (Mullen 2020a).

Transforming Mindsets Through Pedagogic Activism (Theme 4) Experiential decolonizing activities are key to transforming mindsets in the unconventional classroom. Fostering consciousness of race and power involves resocializing majoritarian preservice groups to think critically and reflectively

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(e.g., Aitken and Radford 2018; Kitchen and Raynor 2013; Madden 2015; Whitinui et al. 2018). Pedagogies for decolonizing/indigenizing education show students how “cultural exclusion” works, dynamics of which include stereotyping, appropriating, and blaming. “Talking circles” and psychodramas in Iseke-Barnes’s (2008) classroom assist with the realization that obstacles function systematically to colonize and oppress; students were guided to “consider pedagogic and educational practices that promote respect for Indigenous communities” and “challenge [stereotypical] images . . . and literatures that subjugate and misrepresent” (p. 142). Such indigeneity-informed curricula are being translated into exploratory activities, pedagogic pathways, and promising practices – from elementary grades through college – in the Americas and elsewhere (Iseke-Barnes 2008; Kitchen and Raynor 2013; Madden 2015; Munroe et al. 2013; Verbos and Humphries 2014; Whitinui et al. 2018). Teacher educators report mixed results when it comes to non-Indigenous college students’ capacity to confront and especially overcome racism. While some of Aitken and Radford’s (2018) future teachers felt called upon and responsible for indigenizing their learning, others distanced themselves, relegating amends owed to their forebears. Apparently, resisters denied the realities of colonization and need for reconciliation, shirking the responsibility of teachers to unsettle for change. Objections included: “I don’t like that word [settler]” and “I’m just Canadian—I’m not a settler” (p. 45). The refusal to acknowledge settler privileges and benefits is a dynamic of colonial resistance. Aitken and Radford (2018) also examined how colonization and “land theft” had been deflected in their classroom. Resistive voices implied that nobody owns the land, everyone shares it, and any questionable actions from the past were the nation’s, not individuals’, doing. Other such “moves to innocence” were signaled in expressions of how majoritarian students see themselves as welcoming to everyone and have no motive to conquer anyone (p. 45). An impression student comments conveyed is that there is no fundamental (land and place) problem to be resolved. Pedagogy of (Indigenous) place had no appeal. But recognition in this particular preservice classroom did occur as flashes of insight into, and budding understandings of, injustice. Some students grasped cultural genocide on a visceral level, feeling moved to think and act differently. Such transformative work would have greater potency beyond single course interventions in service of reducing the shadows of futurity (resistance to change).

Recommendations from the Literature In the literature analyzed, collective and global responsibility is encouraged for (1) increasing tribal empowerment through Indigenous sovereignty and futurity and (2) reducing inequality in Aboriginal education, employment, health/medical, and other outcomes. A synthesis of potent interventions in Indigenous education follows of critical consciousness-raising and culturally responsive education and teaching (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Gay 2018). Corresponding actions and ideas for practice are endorsed.

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Collective Consciousness-Raising Spreading awareness about the world’s most marginalized group in education and society – Indigenous peoples (UN 2017) – is essential. Requiring consciousnessbuilding in all spheres (social, legal, political, health, and educational), some studies identified decolonizing actions: • Fundamentally changing racist policies and practices (Coulthard 2014) • Understanding the value of place in Indigenous knowledge systems and returning stolen land and resources to tribal nations (Coulthard 2014; Tuck and Yang 2012) • Compensating for damages incurred by Indigenous peoples spent in exile from ancestral home/lands (Coulthard 2014; Tuck and Yang 2012; Woolford and Benvenuto 2015) • Valuing and establishing Indigenous sovereignty, extending to education (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Coulthard 2014; McCarty 2018; Tuck and Yang 2012; Woolford and Benvenuto 2015) • Forging nonassimilationist reconciliation across the Indigenous–non-Indigenous divide in the spirit of reciprocity, partnership, and solidarity (Verbos and Humphries 2014) • Welcoming alternative histories rooted in Aboriginal knowledges, creating space for narratives of indigeneity, and advancing Aboriginal stories told by Indigenous peoples (Iseke-Barnes 2008) • Decolonizing education, pedagogy, and curriculum by aligning cultural learning with holistic Indigenous worldviews and epistemologies (AFN 2010; Mullen 2019a, 2020a; Windchief and Brown 2017; Writer 2017)

Culturally Responsive Education Bilingual and multilingual programs that are culturally responsive to teaching Aboriginal peoples and teaching about them need much greater implementation in schools. Promoting “bi/multicultural” literacy is upheld as a vital strategy for Indigenous student engagement, retention, success, and life after graduation (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Gay 2018; Khalifa et al. 2016). Other examples of culturally responsive education include: • As the basis of cultural responsiveness in teaching, educators would confront realities distressing Aboriginal students and communities, examine “self-identity and cultural identity,” and teach “culture and language” (Kitchen et al. 2011, p. 615). Decolonial mindsets would infuse and enrich preparatory experiences, such as those in teacher education and educational leadership programs. • Teachers would build strong relationships with their Indigenous students and take the time to learn about their experiences, knowledge, and learning styles; they would also personalize the curriculum, treat students as individuals, and devote time to nurturing learning capacities (Kitchen et al. 2011).

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• Eurocentric textbooks and materials would not be updated but rather replaced with Indigenous sources under the vigilance of Aboriginal pedagogic experts (Kim 2015). • Teachers and principals would receive specialized training in both understanding and applying Indigenous cultural knowledges (Fredericks et al. 2014; Khalifa et al. 2016). • State regulations, teacher assessment, and policy standards would interrelate to promote cultural sustainability (UN 2017). Policy standards and guides would support culturally responsive approaches to Indigenous languages and cultures (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Gay 2018). In Alaska, The Alaska Standards for Culturally-Responsive Schools and the Guide to Implementing the Alaska Cultural Standards for Educators offer “advice on inclusion of indigenous knowledge in schools” and provide “rubrics and guidelines” for assessing student success and well-being (UN 2017, p. 55). • Culturally responsive teaching, curriculum, and assessment practices with regard to Indigenous student academic learning, success, and achievement would be studied and, as merited, adapted and evaluated (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Gay 2018). The Alaska Native Knowledge Network is a documented source (UN 2017, p. 154). • Collaboration with Indigenous experts is advised for incorporating Indigenous knowledge into curriculum and avoiding assimilation (Verbos and Humphries 2014). Reaching out to learn from Indigenous communities about their perspectives, concerns, solutions, and dreams is recommended, as is creatively problemsolving with tribal members (Robinson et al. 2019; Writer 2017). • Besides Aboriginal rituals, Indigenous strategies include collaboration with elders, talking circles, speakers, testimony, salient texts, simulations, psychodramas, reflective discussion, experiential activity, tribal histories, counternarratives, art-making, filmmaking, and more. Advancing Indigenous ecological knowledge, fostering cultural awareness, and combating racism are goals (Aitken and Radford 2018; Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Iseke-Barnes 2008; Kitchen and Raynor 2013; Madden 2015). • Culturally responsive programming would incorporate Indigenous and Western knowledge and competency in tribal and mainstream society; also, it would meet expectations when Indigenous communities engage in home–school partnerships (Castagno and Brayboy 2008; Writer 2017). • Culturally responsive learning climates and curricula would draw upon Aboriginal students’ linguistic and other diversities, cultural knowledge and identities, and restorative practices and experiences – in addition to “natural settings [where] education occurs by example” (Castagno and Brayboy 2008, p. 955). Cultural programming would open up education in new ways, such as within Indigenous communities; enrichment could count toward formal credits in educational systems (UN 2017). • Initiatives in Aboriginal entrepreneurship education would monitor Western attitudes and ensure consistency with community values in addition to employment (and promotion) opportunities for Indigenous peoples within economically depressed and exploited areas (Pinto and Blue 2015).

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Implications and Reflective Takeaways Indigenous education in this review synthesis promotes cultural responsiveness in conventional classrooms, undergirded by the political motive to erode colonialism in pursuit of tribal justice. While decolonial pedagogies in education appear in the literature, albeit sporadically, the goals of decolonization – associated with inherent tribal rights and Indigenous sovereignty over designated land – are not an orientation in mainstream discourse. In stark contrast, a politics of recognition is the central motif in the critical scholarship from cultural and political studies. Perhaps it can be said that Indigenous education exists at the crossroads of change: In the mainstream, concern targets consciousness-raising around racist settler attitudes and discriminatory actions toward Indigenous peoples, whereas in the “radical” margins, attention is on dismantling national supremacy so that a bright future can unfold for Indigenous communities. Well into the twenty-first century, barriers to equal rights and opportunity for Indigenous peoples persist. Decolonization efforts in traditional schooling sites are irregular at best, and colonial resistance to reconciliation and healing continues. Despite efforts in mainstream educational settings to resocialize racist beings, underplayed are the fundamental, all-important issues – the need for advocacy around Indigenous sovereignty and inherent rights relative to self-governance and home/lands, with repatriation and restitution owed. Inequities perpetuated on different levels impede (deep) understanding of Indigenous rights, knowledges, education, and worldviews, as well as dilemmas, experiences, and futures. An offshoot of Western socialization is “colonial history and assimilation” through which prescriptive educational transactions and programming are imposed on Indigenous communities (Writer 2017, p. 171; also, McGregor 2018; Windchief and Brown 2017). Western thinking “shows up” as institutional accommodations of diversity, equity, and inclusion, typically multicultural courses, workplace policies, and oversight offices. While such higher education trends have produced a more diverse academy, reculturing efforts around decolonizing/indigenizing pedagogy, curriculum, research, and education remain at a minimum (Iseke-Barnes 2008, 2009; Windchief and Brown 2017). With institutionalized settler pressures and resistance to reform, including within professional preparatory programs, pedagogues may feel the pressure to avoid exploring anything outside the mainstream. Colonial forces block educative undertakings of “alternative epistemologies” for accommodating Indigenous education (Windchief and Brown 2017). A way forward is for “Indigenous theories and knowledge and worldviews [to] increasingly become a starting point for new research efforts” (McGregor 2018, p. 819) and to infuse these at multiand transdisciplinary levels. A paradox of the colonial settler mindset is that settlers must scrutinize their (our) own intentions. Motives to decolonize schooling, policies, paradigms, research, and so forth can be self-servingly designed to “reconcile settler guilt and complicity, and rescue settler futurity” (Tuck and Yang 2012, p. 3). Thus, transparency of settler thought, values, and motivation for collectively advancing racial relations should be ethical considerations.

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Six strategies in Indigenous education for self-monitoring and practicing vigilance are: • Developing fluency with viewpoints rooted in Indigenous ways of thinking and being • Familiarizing oneself with the ten tenets presented and applying/adapting them in teaching, researching, policymaking, and so forth • Collaborating with Indigenous experts in teaching to decolonize the classroom • Reading the literature to become attuned to de/colonization constructs and nuances, in addition to bridge-building solutions with educational groups • Creating meaningful learning spaces, even if transitory, within resistive, outdated institutions, to open up new worlds and aspects of self and other • Utilizing tools for building knowledge of Indigenous perspectives on education, racial politics, and more for facilitating receptivity, growth, and action Allies and reformed settlers are not on the sidelines of reform; instead, they play a key role in defending society’s most invisibalized (aggressively erased) and minoritized (perpetually exploited) demographic, ensuring that Indigenous populations are no longer underserved in education and other domains of life. Working on behalf of rights for structural equality and the complete belonging of Indigenous peoples matters. Indigenous people’s efforts to remake themselves on their own terms in spaces freed of marginalizing dynamics like stereotypes and the appropriation of their identities, languages, discourses, and perspectives is a pressing need. The ensemble of educators and theorists also imparts that colonialism for North American Indigenous communities remains a societal crisis. Vigorous solutionseeking for transforming minds is a driver of decolonial pedagogies, which ground and test theories but do not necessarily address the geopolitical goals of decolonization. Decolonizing societal structures that ostracize Indigenous communities and working toward tribal justice, reconciliation, and healing with knowledge of complexities are contributions of the scholarship discussed. Without a doubt, reparation for stolen land and resources is a grave matter to which societal, including educational, institutions must responsibly recognize. Being sought is commitment to reform through the decolonization project. In no way localized, this worldwide movement is growing, fueled by the desire for Indigenous rights and freedoms, systemic change, and sustainable ecologies. The decolonization project intersects with other “anticolonial movements,” which, as a larger force, “rupture the ideological structures, racial hierarchies, and discourses of settler colonial states” (Tabar and Desai 2017, p. iii). An outcome of efforts to decolonize education is TribalCrit, the innovators of whom envision its central role in mainstream institutions and classrooms. If integrated into social justice and multiculturalism, tribal justice might have greater visibility and perhaps potency in educational change. Or if subsumed within these established domains, the tribal justice cause would be equated with racial equality, thereby losing ground with decolonization. It could be argued that advocacy/

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liberation theories have a moral obligation to bring tribal injustice to light without further subjugating it and the political thrust of indigeneity. TribalCrit tenets propose starting points for earnest inclusionary work. Indigenous futurity, a complex concept, imagines the settler-native-slave relationship being defunct and humanity renewed. Unity would result from shared goals, tribal governance, emancipatory vision, and remedied colonial wrongdoing. Schools and higher education institutions would profit from making such changes systemic by embracing Indigenous inclusion, achievement, and leadership. A world community in which tribes, unfettered by colonialism, live out their humanity is futurity’s essence (McCarty 2018; Mullen 2020a).

Summary This review synthesis initiated thinking about pedagogies for decolonizing education in theory and practice. Interventions and strategies for advancing Indigenous education were shared for transforming settler minds, as well as conventional teaching and learning. Various academic disciplines were also represented that contribute to Indigenous education and the conversation afoot. Additionally, educational and social theories were described relative to their relationship with critical tribal ideology. Tribal justice – a collective global responsibility – incites introspection about humanity and what it will take for Indigenous futurity to be untangled from colonialism.

Note This chapter is part of a larger research project of mine (Mullen 2019a, b, 2020a, b; see “References”). I am grateful to the reviewers for their time and affirmation of the content presented on an important and complex topic deserving of much more attention.

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Inclusion as Social Justice: Nancy Fraser’s Theory in the South African Context Ellison Musara, Carolyn (Callie) Grant, and Jo-Anne Vorster

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inclusive Education Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Special Education Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Social Justice Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alternative Perspectives on Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fraser’s Social Justice Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Participation Parity: A Social Justice Framework . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discussion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Redistribution Dimension of Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recognition Dimension of Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Representation Dimension of Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Current research suggests that the meaning of inclusion and social justice is still widely contested despite the seeming global acceptance of these educational reforms in most nations. While inclusion and social justice policies are now prevalent in many countries, these concepts bear discussion because they remain elusive and thus subject to numerous interpretations. This chapter reports on conceptualizations of inclusion and social justice in the South African context by authors who live and work in South Africa. They critically examine the E. Musara · C. C. Grant (*) Education Department, Faculty of Education, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] J.-A. Vorster Centre of Higher Education Research Teaching and Learning, Faculty of Education, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_107

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concept of inclusion using American critical theorist-feminist Nancy Fraser’s social justice framework. The authors demonstrate how this substantive theory of justice usefully provides conceptual tools for understanding inequalities and inequities in education. An analysis is presented of inclusion as social justice and demonstrates what it looks like in the real-life practice of a South African case. Educators will find conceptual tools aimed at creating meaningful interventions in the areas of inclusion, equity, and social justice that support diverse learners with wide-ranging needs. Keywords

Social justice · Equity · Inclusion, Participation parity · Intervention · Nancy Fraser · Special education

Introduction Despite scholars and researchers’ concerted efforts to define inclusion, conceptual difficulties persist largely because its meaning takes different forms in different contexts (Qvortrup and Qvortrup 2018). Most researchers of inclusive education continue to be troubled by the multiplicity of meanings that lurk within discourses involving inclusion. In addition, what inclusive practices might look like in practice is still problematic. Even in contexts where inclusion has been integrated into educational practice for years, understandings of inclusion still vary. While many inclusive education policies across the globe indicate the tendency for most countries to view inclusive education as primarily a disability issue (Fasting 2013), a large body of scholarship exists that questions all approaches to inclusion focused on “disabled” or “special needs”’ students to the point of ignoring the many ways in which full participation for learners may be impeded. Like the concept of inclusion, social justice is similarly contested; thus, conceptualizing it requires unpacking because of the different meanings it has to people in different contexts (Sleeter 2014). Social justice has also been described as a vague concept that while widely known is under-theorized (Cochran-Smith 2010; North 2008). The scholarship seems to be suggesting, then, that the varying understandings may be partly a reflection of how the concept of social justice is itself historically and politically constituted and used across many disciplines, which makes definitive meaning-making almost impossible. Others suggest that different cultural, contextual and situational aspects play into how social justice is understood in different societies; therefore, views of social justice are likely deeply rooted in the collective experience of those in a particular society (e.g., Shriberg and Clinton 2016). Yet, in spite of this complexity, a plethora of definitions provided by contemporary scholars and researchers are examined in this chapter. We next analyze different definitions and perceptions of inclusion and social justice in contemporary literature. Then we examine in some detail American critical theorist-feminist Nancy Fraser’s substantive theory of social justice and demonstrate

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how this framework can be used to explore social justice as understood in different educational contexts. While we utilize evidence from a larger study on conceptualizations and practices of inclusion as social justice in Canada, Zimbabwe, and South Africa (Musara 2020), for the purposes of this chapter we confine ourselves to our findings within the South African context.

Inclusive Education Models Here we briefly discuss two inclusion models: the special education model and the social justice model.

Special Education Model Initially, inclusion was understood as being primarily about children with and without disabilities physically being placed in the same classroom. According to Baglieri, Bejoian, Broderick, Connor, and Valle (Baglieri et al. 2011), most countries embraced the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s (UNESCO) perspective on inclusion as being predominantly about placement and service delivery models for learners identified as having special needs. To this day, inclusion is still limited to the traditional constituency of special education in many countries, with most public discourses about special education addressing only continued progress towards increasing access to general education curricula and environments for students with disabilities. Consistent with this mindset, Idol (2006) posits that, essentially, “inclusion means that the student with special education needs is attending the general school program, enrolled in age-appropriate classes 100% of the school day” (p. 4). Similarly, Florian and Linklater (2010) acknowledge inclusive education as based on the principle of local schools providing for all students, regardless of any perceived social, cultural or intellectual difference or disability. Initially, educational policy in the United Kingdom also promoted inclusive education as the teaching of children with disabilities and those without disabilities within the same neighborhood schools. Over the years, though, many teachers and researchers have tried to move away from this view of inclusion (Shaddock et al. 2009). However, this special education paradigm of inclusion has continued to prevail in many countries.

Social Justice Model As stated earlier, scholars who advocate a broader understanding of inclusion have continued to question approaches to inclusion that fail to account for how meaningful participation for students without disabilities or special needs may be obstructed. Shaddock et al. (2009) argue that inclusion should imply that when participation becomes an issue for any student, the approach should never be to establish special

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programs for the newly identified individual or group, but to expand mainstream thinking, and structures and practices, to ensure that all students are accommodated. Other inclusive education scholars have also tried to conceptualize the task of inclusion as the identification and removal of all barriers to participation in education. It does not matter whether such issues of nonparticipation arise from disability, gender, behavior, poverty, culture, or refugee status. Researchers have been proposing that inclusion should be about social justice aimed at redressing inequalities of power and hierarchical social relations, with a view to benefit the least-advantaged groups of people. Armstrong and Barton (2007), taking an expanded view, argued that inclusion is “fundamentally about issues of human rights, equity, social justice and the struggle for a non-discriminatory society” (p. 6). These conceptualizations show a significant departure from the special education model that had kept the spotlight on the individual learner with distinct deficits (Shaddock et al. 2009), to a broader equity agenda for all marginalized learners, embodying multiple forms of difference. These broad definitions of inclusion encompass the need for inclusive practices that accommodate students who may be disadvantaged or excluded because of a whole range of factors, including age, ability, gender, ethnic identity and religious affiliation, geographic location, and socioeconomic status. Even UNESCO’s (2009) definition of inclusion shifts considerably beyond the narrow idea of inclusion as a means of understanding and overcoming a deficit (initially adopted in 1999) to incorporating issues of gender, class, ethnicity, health, human rights, access, and participation. In many educational settings, inclusive education is now understood as a transformational political project that promotes the radical reconceptualization and reconstitution of schooling to embrace all students through the recognition, legitimization, and celebration of difference to include race, gender, class, sexuality, ethnicity, and geographic position (Artiles and Kozleski 2007). In this view, it is the schooling system, curriculum, and pedagogy that are problematic and require radical change, not students. Inclusion directly linked to social justice rather than disability propels a view of inclusion as social justice in both theory and practice. Inclusion can also be conceptualized as a political perspective that aims to reorder social arrangements. From a critical theory perspective, inclusion is a radical challenge to the elitist, exclusionary and hierarchical status of schooling and economic and social reproduction regimes. Viewing inclusion as emancipatory education, it should be designed and implemented to achieve social transformation through equity and social justice. To Shyman (2015), education as a whole lacks a definitive understanding of inclusion that is globally sensitive and social justice oriented: “The application and practice of social justice cannot be divorced from inclusion, and any real attempt at implementing inclusive education must consider what it means to promote and practice a socially just society” (p. 353); as such, “inclusive education . . . is a means of calling into question a socially unjust and discriminatory system that is designed to enhance the schooling environment for all individuals regardless of their exceptionality” (p. 354). This perspective goes beyond just increasing participation of students in the curriculum and in a community of local

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schools to facilitating student interaction with others beyond the classroom. This is particularly notable because inclusion in this perspective goes beyond access to include the outcomes of inclusive schooling. Ultimately, while there is no one overarching definition of inclusion, it is reasonable to argue that any examination of inclusive education is limited if focused only on learners and their exceptionality without recognizing that the broader societal inequities that surround schooling marginalize many learners. While the notion of a single definition of inclusion continues to be elusive, evidence indicates that the inclusion discourse has, over time, focused on the need to center inclusive education on equity, diversity and equal educational opportunities for all children. This thinking fits with the basic premise of inclusive education – that schools need to be about belonging, nurturing and educating all students, regardless of differences in ability, class, culture, gender or ethnicity. Such a perspective directly connects inclusive education with principles of equity and social justice. Inclusion is about the need to eliminate systemic social inequalities in order to create institutional arrangements which allow all learners equitable access to opportunities. A Rawlsian conception and critique. The varied definitions of social justice align with specific disciplines or different schools of thought. In contemporary literature, the modern philosophical tradition of social justice is greatly influenced by the liberal American political philosopher John Rawls. Rawls’ (1972) conventional conception saw social justice as equity and fairness in regards to the distribution of social goods like health and education. The first of his two key principles of justice was that each individual is entitled to as much freedom as possible as long as others share the same freedom. The second, directly related to economic goods, was that all social goods should be distributed as equally as possible, with such distribution giving the greatest benefit to the most disadvantaged members of society. At the core of Rawls’s (1972) understanding was that for a just and equitable society to be possible, social goods needed to be redistributed in favor of those who were less privileged (North 2008). Young (1990), however, contends that Rawls’ (1972) distribution theory tends to collapse all issues of justice into those of distribution. Because distributive justice is only one part of social justice, it should be viewed as separate from understanding oppression and domination between individuals and groups. Furthermore, according to Young (1990), Rawls’s (1972) view of justice obscures systemic and structural inequities because it places too much emphasis on the individual, as though individuals are completely independent from institutional arrangements and social structures. In this way, justice as distribution totally overlooks the multiple ways in which both individuals and social groups experience different forms of oppression. Thus, Young (1990) concludes that there are other more fundamental struggles for marginalized individuals and groups to defend identities and resist cultural domination, instead of simply fighting for economic justice. Similarly, Unterhalter (2007) contends that distribution does not address institutionalized hierarchies of cultural value that deny people their respect and dignity, and the procedures that structure public contestations. An example in an educational context would be that even when a teacher ensures that all students

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have equal access to resources and opportunities to take part in learning activities, students might still experience learning differently because of their different cultural identities. Diverging from Rawls’s (1972) perspective, Smith (1994) posits that “the term social justice is taken to embrace both equity and fairness in the distribution of a wide range of attributes, which need not be confined to material things” (p. 26). Social justice should go beyond patterns of distribution to include the different ways in which these patterns come about. This suggests a meaning of social justice that is both distributional and relational. Goodlad (2002) also argues that social justice is a contested and normative concept that theoreticians and policymakers use to mean different things like equal opportunity and equity. Characterizing social justice education as both a process and a goal, Bell (2013) defines the goals of social justice as: full and equal participation of all groups in a society that is mutually shaped to meet their needs. Social justice includes a vision of society in which the distribution of resources is equitable and all members are physically and psychologically safe and secure. (p. 21)

As seems evident, some scholars and researchers had begun to question the idea of social justice as solely about the redistribution of social goods. Principally, scholars (e.g., Cribb and Gewirtz 2003; Young 1990) thought that Rawl’s (1972) focus on redistribution as justice failed to take into account systemic and structural inequalities, as such masking inequity in regard to the inequitable power relations involved in the distribution of such goods.

Alternative Perspectives on Social Justice Some perspectives on, and definitions of, social justice have much to do with the situational and cultural contexts or philosophical traditions from which they evolve (Shriberg and Clinton 2016). Scholars who write in response to the negative consequences of what they see as a ruthless capitalist system in the world today approach social justice from a perspective of redistribution of resources from the bottom up and reform of political institutions against corporatism (Weaver 2014). Weaver (2014) also notes that from the perspective of many Indigenous populations that were formerly under colonial control, social justice may essentially be about their communities being able to preserve their cultures and traditions, knowledges and religions. Similarly, the description of social justice seen through a post-apartheid South Africa lens, for example, is inescapably influenced by the need for equitable access to opportunity for all races and resource redistribution. From the perspective of social democratic education, Hackman (2005) characterizes social justice education as education that encourages students to take an active role in their own education and that allows teachers the freedom to create empowering democratic educational environments. As such, justice, considered in relation to common good and group needs, emphasizes a more collectivist or cooperative vision of society. A core belief is that social

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justice is inherently a part of a democratic way of life that should ensure equal opportunities for all people to pursue their educational goals and fulfil their aspirations, thereby empowering citizens from across the socioeconomic spectrum. Murrell (2006) asserts that social justice involves “a disposition toward recognizing and eradicating all forms of oppression and differential treatment extant in the practices and policies of institutions, as well as a fealty to participatory democracy as the means of this action” (p. 81). This view of social justice most echoes a critical pedagogy perspective where the shared goal and broad objective is “to empower the powerless and transform existing social inequalities and injustices” (McLaren 2003, p. 186). This view of justice concurs with Young’s (1990) that marginalized groups experience oppression and domination individually and institutionally in different ways. Other contemporary conceptualizations of social justice also begin to shift more in the direction of not only equality but equity, participation and recognition (Grant and Agosto 2008) Goldfarb and Grinberg (2002) view social justice as the practice of altering institutional and organizational arrangements by “actively engaging in reclaiming, appropriating, sustaining, and advancing inherent human rights of equity, equality, and fairness in social, economic, educational, and personal dimensions” (p. 162). Gewirtz’s (2006) perspective on social justice centers on the disrupting and subverting of arrangements that promote societal marginalization and exclusionary social processes by design. Similarly, Carlisle, Jackson, and George (2006) look at social justice as a conscious and intentional way “to enhance equity across multiple social identity groups (e.g., race, class, gender, sexual orientation, ability) [and] foster critical perspectives, and promote social action” (p. 57). A consistent focus on key features of a just system (e.g., distribution and recognition) characterizes these ways of defining social justice. North (2008) addresses both notions – distribution and recognition – of social justice by explicitly viewing social justice in terms of the need for “recognition” as cultural groups compete for respect and dignity and “redistribution” as different socioeconomic classes demand the equitable sharing of wealth and power. Like North (2008), Cribb and Gewirtz (2003) argue for a broader perspective of social justice that extends beyond distribution to include different relational concerns. The central issue becomes fairness and justice within relationships among people and the manner in which these relationships are structured. Gewirtz (2006) also posits that relational justice helps us to theorise about issues of power and how we treat each other, both in the sense of micro face-to-face interactions and in the sense of macro social and economic relations which are mediated by institutions such as the state and the market. (p. 471)

Social justice should concern itself with both practices and procedures that govern the organization of political, economic and social institutions and, at the same time, deal with families and individual social relationships.

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Fraser’s Social Justice Theory In what others have described as “a highly sophisticated theory of social justice” (Armstrong and Thompson 2011, p. 1), Fraser (2008) posits that social justice “requires social arrangements that permit all to participate as peers in social life. Overcoming injustice means dismantling institutionalized obstacles that prevent some people from participating on a par with others as full partners in social interaction.” Participation parity refers to a situation where inequalities in the public sphere are eliminated to enable all people to participate as equals in social life. Fraser uses these concepts to describe the just allocation of “social arrangements that permit all members of society to interact with one another as peers” (p. 16). In the three dimensions of social life that Fraser identifies, people can be denied the freedom to participate as equals when they are denied economic resources, social status and political voice. In her conceptualization of social justice, the principle of participation parity is the one normative standard of justice that is only possible to achieve under certain conditions. Like most of the preceding definitions, Fraser’s view of social justice focuses on redistribution, recognition and, more importantly, emphasizes a third dimension she calls representation. Representation refers to the sense of agency that people have over their lives, and their decision-making ability and the questions of who is included or excluded in society, and who is allowed voice and participation. A social justice approach should seek to enhance opportunities for self-development and selfexpression, and it should encourage participation of different groups in decisionmaking through group representation. In Fraser’s (2008) view, the participation dimension of social justice is a most crucial aspect of it because participation is a prerequisite to the realization of the distribution and recognition dimensions. One of Fraser’s major concerns seems to be that unequal social and cultural positioning can create informal barriers to justice by unfairly excluding people in the different levels of decision-making and thereby limiting individuals’ capacity to engage in all kinds of civic and political activity. In Fraser’s social justice paradigm, participatory misrepresentation in education occurs at two levels: the wide political systems of nation states (individual countries) and transnational players like the World Bank and UNESCO for example. Governments put into place rules and processes in ways that deny certain individuals or groups the chance to participate fully in decision-making. Fraser (2009) draws particular attention to the fundamentally political nature of debates about educational quality and relevance where this politics of framing sets boundaries of participation and voice within one nation-state. In this frame, parents and whole communities can be excluded from debates about the education of their children. On the transnational level, big players like the World Bank exert their influence on the national policies and frameworks of low-income countries resulting in education systems being globalized. Such multilateral agencies often drive an educational agenda that is not necessarily in the interests of the citizens of that country. In the end, countries like South Africa and other low-income countries are disadvantaged in terms of the form and content of their education

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given that crucial decisions about education are made from outside the country without the input of parents and local communities (e.g., the World Bank’s The World Development Report which diagnoses the state of learning in the world yearly). For justice to prevail in these circumstances there is a need for all parties to find constructive ways to decide the extent to which different stakeholders like parents and communities can have a voice in the debates and decision-making about education. A social justice approach would bring together community organizations and the parents and communities they represent, advocacy groups, civil society and non-governmental organizations. While representation foregrounds the formal and informal rules that regulate human interactions, distribution focuses more on the processes and outcomes of the dispersal of resources. In Fraser’s (2008) paradigm, distribution refers to disparity in the distribution of resources and the need to address injustice in economic societal structures wherein exploitation and economic marginalization occur. The claim that there needs to be a distribution of resources and wealth that is socially just would, in education, concern access to resources and thus quality education, extending to such potential outcomes as employment and earnings. The principle of distribution normally refers to equality of opportunity and outcome; equality of opportunity refers to key issues like individual rights, access and participation. Equality of outcome would be meaningless unless it translates to equal rates of success for various groups in society, including those who come from disadvantaged backgrounds (Cribb and Gerwitz 2003). Fraser (2008) recognizes that, because economic inequality undermines an individual’s capacity to participate on par with others in society, some degree of economic redistribution is a necessary precondition for social justice, as this tends to affect people’s ability to access many other societal goods. The recognition dimension for justice targets injustices construed as cultural and rooted in social identities (Fraser 2008). Recognition implies a politics that is aimed at the achievement of status equality for all members of society, with emphasis on considering exactly what is needed in any given case in order to establish status equality. Instead of requiring everyone to conform to dominant norms, Fraser (2008) suggests that a just theory of inclusion must preserve difference by securing external conditions and structures that allow diverse individuals to participate on a relatively equal playing field. In education, for example, whether human attributes are valued affects how students participate in the pedagogical process. Fraser (2008) draws attention to the damage to status equality that occurs when one group is systematically denigrated or marginalized in cultural life. By conceiving recognition in terms of status, Fraser (2008) emphasizes that what is really important here is the demand for recognition of people’s right to participate as full partners in social interaction. In educational inclusion, educators using mainstream strategies would consider individual differences and a range of social networks, and account for how people’s past histories have been shaped and influenced their present attitudes. The three dimensions of justice overlap in theory and are closely related in practice. To Fraser (2008), then, a just society is built upon ideals of social justice

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where participation is open to all, irrespective of race, gender, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, or age. Considering the literature we review, in all, social justice is a complex concept; its numerous contested definitions converge on key conceptual points: a sense of distributive justice relating to fair allocation of resources; status equality for all members of society and, associative justice focusing on representation and equitable distribution of power (Cribb and Gewirtz 2003; Fraser 2008; Shriberg and Clinton 2016). These views of justice are key to the understanding of social justice in education.

Participation Parity: A Social Justice Framework The principle of participatory parity is at the core of Fraser’s social justice theory. Here we analyze this framework more closely and examine the different ways participation parity can be achieved in real-life settings. A view accounted for are teacher educators’ conceptualization of inclusion as social justice in teacher education (Musara 2020). In our view, Fraser’s (2008) theory, recognized as contributing to well-received contemporary scholarship on social justice, (e.g., Cho 2017) is crucial in understanding the place of social justice in education. Other than contributing some conceptual clarity to the social justice discourse, the three dimensions of the theory (distribution, recognition and representation) provide useful conceptual tools to help with thinking through the extant structural inequalities in education today (Carlisle et al.) before appropriate interventions can be deployed to “dismantle the institutionalized obstacles to participation parity” (Fraser 2008, p. 277). This theory, then, offers a framework for making judgments about whether educational policies and practices are inclusive and socially just. Although it is not always possible to determine what participatory parity requires in every situation, our understanding of the three dimensions is useful as a guiding principle to generate possible interventions for achieving justice in different educational settings. This is critical given religious, ethnic, racial and cultural plurality in schools throughout the world and the need to productively engage increasingly diverse learners in classrooms (Rizvi and Lingard 2011). Furthermore, despite claims of commitment to inclusion and fairness in education systems across the globe, inequalities and inequity of educational experiences and outcomes still abound, and many education systems are still reproducing and legitimizing inequity and injustices, particularly against marginalized groups (Francisa et al. 2017). We take note of the various contestations against Fraser’s (2008) theory. For example, Young (1990) contends that dividing the injustices into distinct domains (distribution, recognition and representation) is superficial because they are indivisible and the divisions reduce the dimensions to a form of cultural identity politics. Regarding this questioning about the categorization of injustices that extends beyond Young’s (1990) criticism, Fraser (2005) concedes that the three dimensions

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of social justice are not reductive but rather “stand in relations of mutual entwinement and reciprocal influence”; and that social struggles in the contemporary world are such that there is “no recognition without redistribution, no redistribution or recognition without representation” (p. 79). The dimensions of justice should, therefore, be understood in terms of representing ways of bringing disparities of social participation to public prominence. While there are connections among the domains, division is still appropriate because political injustices, for example, can exist over and above the economic and cultural dimensions. Nevertheless, it is our view that Fraser’s (2008) theory has particular relevance for education and in its trivalent conceptualization can effectively address inequities in education. The three dimensions of social justice can be said to provide a valid framework for advancing as well as creating meaningful interventions to bring about equality and equity in the learning environment. We also affirm that injustice in education prevails when some students are denied the economic resources, social status and political voice they need in order to be able to participate at par with their social counterparts. The principle of parity of participation in which social arrangements must be created that entails all people having freedom to participate on par with others in social life is important. In education, Fraser’s (2008) paradigm would entail a sustained effort to make sure all students have access to learning opportunities and can participate equally with their peers. It would also require that students get the same opportunities for self-representation and cultural recognition for doing so.

Discussion Here we discuss perceptions and practice of inclusion as social justice by utilizing a South African case from the larger study conducted in 2020 by the first author of this chapter (Musara 2020). The data used in the comparative study upon which we selectively draw were generated through interviews with individuals and focus groups with three teacher educators and eight teacher candidates in a higher education institution in South Africa. The principal interest of the research was to obtain a deeper understanding of how these teacher educators and candidates conceptualized inclusion and enacted inclusive pedagogy and its principles in the different contexts in which they worked. Focus group discussions enabled identification of the teacher candidates’ perceptions, feelings and concerns about inclusion and, most importantly, their personal experiences as university students and developing teachers of K-12 students. In this chapter, we highlight the quotes of some of the participants, the original form of which is edited for sense-making and brevity. Next, we examine Fraser’s (2008) theory in relation to structural inequalities that are experienced by some learners in South Africa as a result of distribution, recognition and participatory injustices. Our analysis focuses only on the research participants’ understandings of inclusion, particularly as social justice in the context of participation parity.

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Redistribution Dimension of Social Justice In the comparative study (Musara 2020), teacher education participants identified mal-distribution as one of the key impediments to social justice in education within South Africa. To most of the participants, mal-distribution mainly referred to disparity in the distribution of resources, which resulted in the marginalization of the Black majority in all aspects of social and economic life. It was found that there was a need in South Africa to dismantle all the institutionalized economic obstacles that prevented many Black persons from participating on a par with others as full partners in social interaction (Fraser 2008). The multiple socioeconomic disadvantages experienced by many of them and the resultant disparities in social participation were thought to have a direct impact on education by the teacher education participants. These conditions directly translate to inequitable distribution of material resources in educational contexts, they said. South African students from socalled townships and rural areas have an entirely different school experience from those in the affluent areas who usually have access to good state-funded or private schools and elite universities, it was pointed out. One teacher educator had this to say: I’m just going to give poverty as an example. A child who lives in the townships usually comes into the class hungry; there might be nothing wrong with their brain, but they’re going to struggle to learn. As anybody knows, when you’re hungry you struggle to learn. Or, they live in such dire circumstances that there’s only one room in the house, so they are sleep deprived. (as cited in Musara 2020)

Because of such discrepancies in the distribution of resources, there is a need to devise strategies to support such disadvantaged learners to enable them to participate alongside their peers. In addition, most Black township and rural schools in South Africa lag far behind due to home environments that are not conducive to learning and in which there is a scarcity of basic educational resources (e.g., TV and computer-based Internet access), in addition to a lack of access to, or absence of school and community libraries (Amin and Ramrathan 2009). In most cases, students in such living conditions are likely to go to schools which lack, among other things, decent classrooms, textbooks, and other learning materials, as well as adequate ablution facilities, playgrounds and sport facilities. Social justice requires changing existing classrooms and structures so that all students can be served within a relatively equal system of quality education. Economic inequality undermines an individual’s capacity to participate on par with their peers and poverty specifically inhibits and limits educational achievements and life aspirations (Gale and Tranter 2011). As pointed out earlier, research has repeatedly demonstrated the links between poverty and poor schooling, including early school-leaving and future economic deprivation and, ultimately, social dysfunction (e.g., Keddie 2012). According to the teacher educator participants, the problems being noted are real issues in South African education that are often exacerbated by increasing enrolments, especially in schools in poorer communities.

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Unlike private schools that can employ additional staff to match enrolment, teachers in public schools have to manage overcrowded classrooms and/or multiple age groups in one class, according to another teacher educator: Unlike private schools which can engage additional staff, public schools can’t do that. So how do you actually manage a classroom when you’ve got 40 to 50 learners and you’re alone? Or you’ve got multiple age groups in one class, how do you manage that and actually make sure learning is happening (as cited in Musara 2020).

Similar difficulties were common in the universities too, including in teacher education. Teacher educator participants gave examples of cases where teacher candidates dropped out of their practicum because they could not afford the bus fare to go to the school site every day. Often, there is not enough time and resources to ensure that teacher candidates are adequately prepared for their work before being deployed. Most importantly, there are not enough resources to support teachers in their practicum for a reasonable period so sometimes prospective teachers only have limited field experience in their final year. These views were corroborated by another teacher educator who added that even when teachers get to experience a teaching practice for some time, there were not enough resources to ensure that teacher supervisors actually went into the field to observe and mentor them, as required by the university and school site. As a result, often this element of training is not even assessed. This obviously has a long-term impact on the quality of teachers produced and the subsequent teaching and learning in classrooms. In her own words, this teacher educator said: My feeling is that at the moment I think we are failing quite badly. And a big area where we fail is, we don’t get to see our teachers practicing enough in the classroom when we’re training them. We cannot afford that kind of training and yet it’s that kind of training that our teacher candidates are desperate for because that is the reality of our situation. . . . And they realize the gaps in their knowledge—that perhaps they didn’t get enough practical knowledge. (as cited in Musara 2020)

Clearly, schools perpetuate class disadvantage through an inequitable distribution of educational materials and resources. Creating arrangements that foster participation parity would require educators to know a lot more about their students in order to be able to identify how they are positioned in terms of their needs and how to best address their needs, equitably. This is even more important in situations where there is a diverse population of learners in terms of race, class and ethnicity as in South Africa. Social justice calls on educators to strive towards participatory parity in classrooms and schools by being mindful of the way in which learning opportunities are structured and resources are allocated. According to Bozalek, Carolissen, and Leibowitz (2013), this awareness would serve to remind educators that there are always impactful material and structural forces in society that influence the outcomes of what students may gain from a learning opportunity or situation. The injustice of mal-distribution is real in many educational contexts today and occurs in the

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different ways in which some students are denied the economic resources they need in order to participate at par with peers and succeed in their education.

Recognition Dimension of Social Justice As already explained, recognition is about “the institutionalized patterns by which society accords cultural recognition to some groups at the expense of others, with the result that a more or less stable status hierarchy ensues” (Armstrong and Thompson, p. 111). In the South African case previously referenced, it was found that there was a need for a critical analysis of how curricula misrecognize particular forms of cultural capital and values in the South African education system (Musara 2020). In their different ways, the teacher candidate participants felt that education policies did not adequately recognize the interests of the least advantaged black students. Despite the ongoing transformation processes post 1994 in South Africa, these candidates thought that not enough had been done to develop a deeper understanding of the knowledge, values and understandings of those who were previously underrepresented and excluded from education, especially people from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. A conclusion reached is that there exists a need for the curriculum to be interrogated as a political text in order to uncover the colonial bias that is built into the curriculum. Many of the teacher candidates interviewed in the Musara (2020) study also disclosed other insights. They felt that it was very likely that most Black students experience a cultural system and curriculum that devalues, if not negates, their home languages and cultures, histories and identities, ultimately positioning them as culturally deficient (Luckett and Mzobe 2016). This is what a teacher educator said: We can’t deny especially here in South Africa, given our apartheid history that set up communities that are genuinely impoverished and had their languages and cultures systemically downgraded and despised. So, I think we need to recognize that, as we move forward, certain groups need more resources and special attention given to them because of the erosion of their cultural identities. And [we need to be] critically self-reflecting on our own pedagogy so that we are including all students and making them feel included. (as cited in Musara 2020)

The battle for recognition depends on teachers and students to transform curriculum and pedagogy in ways that afford positive recognition to all students, and teachers embracing the notion that they can contribute to the dignity of their students of different identity positions by recognizing them through embracing their identities, as well as literature, language art, history and culture (Waitoller and Kozleski 2013). The discourse of language as recognition was also found to be a contentious subject in South Africa. Most of the teacher candidates in the Musara (2020) study expressed profound concern at the status quo in which all their country’s Indigenous languages occupy a devalued status, made inferior to English, and cannot be used as

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languages of instruction. The devaluing persists even though the Language Policy for Higher Education in South Africa redefined the status of South African languages, and entrenched language rights and choice, with the goal of creating opportunities for promoting language diversity and multilingualism in education and society (Foley 2004). A major reason for the loss of status for the Indigenous languages was that many Black South Africans considered English to be the language of power that was economically more important than other languages, which is the reason why it dominates in most South African government institutions and the country’s private sector (Kamwendo 2011). In fact, there are some universities in South Africa where Indigenous languages have been used as a medium of instruction for some programs, but, ironically, some African students and parents have expressed disfavor at this practice (Nkosi 2014). Marginalization of Indigenous languages has occurred in South Africa despite evidence that teaching the whole child and connecting curriculum to students’ background knowledge ceases to be an advantage when learners have to engage with curriculum content in languages other than their own (Rodriguez 2013). Nevertheless, in the Musara (2020) study, the teacher participants felt that language presented a huge barrier to the process of inclusion, which relates to Fraser’s (2008) notion of the recognition dimension of justice that targets injustices that are construed as cultural; those that are rooted in social identities including language. The devaluing of Indigenous languages brings about participation disparities among students. A teacher educator described how most students are confronted with a medium of instruction they have not mastered and in a language not spoken at home: One thing that I found is that 90% of the children in South Africa are taught in classrooms where they are not taught through their mother tongue. So that means that those learners have to learn through a language [English] that they first have to learn or strengthen and then write, read and learn in [the “master” language]. In the end, when we are confronted by their inability to function, we are not always sure it is because of the language or behavioral problems, or cognitive or other learning challenges? (as cited in Musara 2020)

The teacher educator was clearly concerned about the deleterious effects of not learning in one’s mother tongue in the early years of schooling. If this language problem is considered in the social domain together with other social structures and complex intersectionalities of race, class, and gender, then students’ experiences become really problematic and educators must struggle to enable epistemological access to powerful knowledge through indigenous languages (Boughey and McKenna 2016). The South African education system has remained particularly Eurocentric and insensitive to Indigenous ways of being (Higgs 2016). This state of affairs partly explains the growing discourse of decolonizing curricula in South Africa (Hendricks 2018), which in higher education attempts to give Indigenous African knowledge systems their rightful place as equally valid ways of knowing among the array of knowledge systems in the world. These calls have been made in the full awareness that South African universities, despite the changing demographics, have remained

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European in their cultural and philosophical orientation and rooted in the belief that Eurocentric knowledge is inherently superior to Indigenous knowledge (Grant et al. 2018; Hendricks 2018). Of course, only Eurocentric knowledge has been properly codified. In South Africa, as indeed elsewhere in post-colonial education systems, there was little doubt that the education system was usually overwhelmingly dominated by Anglo-Saxon worldviews. As one teacher candidate put it: The educational system is very Western in South Africa, which doesn’t make sense because the majority of the country isn’t English speaking and white. I think the education system largely caters to that, especially in the sense of the curriculum, which shows the dominance of that culture. (as cited in Musara 2020)

A legitimate claim is that higher education should seek to transform curriculum and pedagogy into something that challenges assumptions about whose knowledge is most worthwhile. African worldviews and national educational paradigms need to be embraced as well as embedded in an Indigenous sociocultural and epistemological framework (Higgs 2016). Based on the views of different participants in the study drawn upon by Musara (2020), this discourse of recognition revealed serious obstacles to inclusion and social justice. They alluded to deeply embedded social and historical disparities and practices that make participation parity almost impossible, in spite of the transformation that has taken place in South Africa. Beyond the demographic transformation that has been evident in the student body in relation to race and the enhanced access to higher education, the South African educational system remains the same, working in favor of a few advantaged groups (Higgs 2016). The transformation process requires a major equity policy shift to address the fundamental historical inequities.

Representation Dimension of Social Justice Representation or representative justice is about the rights of individuals and groups to have their voices heard in debates about social justice and injustice and to actively participate in decision making. This aspect of justice means first identifying and then acknowledging the claims of historically marginalized groups made up of cultural, linguistic, religious, or sexual minorities and Indigenous peoples. In the South African case study, teacher participants acknowledged the injustice of misrepresentation and that the process of creating arrangements allowing all students to participate as peers was complex (Musara 2020). Creating inclusive arrangements involved uprooting historical cultural traditions and practices of exclusion that have denied equal opportunity to the majority of South Africans for a long time. With South Africa’s colonial history of formalized race-based oppression, there is a greater need for higher education to actively cultivate inclusive institutions. Looking at the teacher participant data from Musara (2020) in terms of perceptions and understandings of inclusion, most respondents seemed to resonate with

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Fraser’s (2008) notion of parity of participation for all learners. Respondents’ definitions of inclusion showed that genuine inclusion in education can only be achieved when conditions are created that allow all children to participate and feel that they belong. As one teacher educator put it: Inclusion then should look at barriers. All the barriers that prevent some of our students from participation should be removed. The concept of inclusion entails that anyone with disadvantage has to be included in any program or in any activity that is available in the society community. One has to be brought aboard to participate. (as cited in Musara 2020)

Inclusion involves not only the idea that everyone is welcome in a space but that that space is created through collaboration in that questions of power and disempowerment, and advantage and disadvantage, would ideally give voice to all involved. This further suggests that not only are educators and their students involved in such discussions, but that all of them are part of the process of creating the space that makes welcoming everybody possible. The current inequalities of representation and outcomes in higher education are the result of multiple social, educational and economic factors rather than differences in overall levels of ability or potential (Gale and Tranter 2011). But because particular groups were historically unrepresented in the higher echelons of South African education, there was no way they could have a voice in how the system was organized and no possibility for influencing discourses about education.

Conclusion A goal set forth for this chapter was to critically examine the complex concepts of inclusion and social justice. A particular aim involved demonstrating how Fraser’s substantive theory of social justice can provide conceptual tools for thinking about and addressing the different ways in which injustices create barriers to participation parity and alter outcomes for marginalized learners. We have demonstrated the complexity of social justice and how perspectives differ depending on the context and sometimes the discipline or philosophical tradition from which the concept is viewed. We also explored Fraser’s (2008) thinking about social justice and its implications for an inclusive and just education for all learners. Fraser’s theorizing is not offered as the ideal model for justice but rather a productive lens that can be used to examine the possibilities for understanding ways in which social injustice impacts education for all learners. It is also a useful theoretical perspective that can help with recognizing disadvantages and inequities experienced by vulnerable groups in different educational settings. An analysis of social justice can be undertaken using Fraser’s (2008) framework of redistribution, recognition and representation to identify injustices in the social order and educational system, and how some student groups are situated in relation to others. As other scholars before us have pointed out, Fraser’s theory can be used to effectively

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analyze and explore issues of social justice because of participation parity being its guiding principle and yardstick for intervention measures. Learners throughout the world have disparate school experiences. Often for marginalized groups, these injustices are fueled by pervasive racial segregation, extreme social and institutional poverty, and willful neglect by those with wealth and power. As was demonstrated in the South African context, the school experience is different and unjust in varied ways. Social justice can only be realized when all students are included in educational practices and processes in a meaningful way, and when distribution of material resources is equitable along with cultural recognition and representation in systems.

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Defining Social Justice in Education Comparative Perspectives from Practitioners and Scholars John C. Pijanowski and Kevin P. Brady

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Definitions of Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Equity and Distributive Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adequacy and the Democratic Threshold . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intersection of Equity and Adequacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Social Recognition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Social Justice in Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Professional Standards of Practice and Preparation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Teaching Social Justice in Educator Preparation Programs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The definition of social justice in education is neither universally agreed upon nor has it remained static over time. Concepts of fairness, social recognition, diversity, inclusion, and antibias are among the main concepts that constitute how scholars think about, and educators practice, social justice in their work. Although conceptualizing social justice and the ways social justice looks in the field do not always align, they do inform each other, and university educator preparation programs provide a unique bridge between theory and practice. Although there have been notable attempts to co-opt and limit the social justice lexicon, over time ideas about what social justice means have grown to be more eclectic, not more exclusive. Moreover, initially disparate ideas about justice have found connections in philosophy and practice, and inform each other in interesting ways that help guide educators in how to conceive of, engage in, and measure J. C. Pijanowski (*) · K. P. Brady University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR, USA e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_106

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transformative social justice action. This chapter traces the tensions, collaborations, and evolution of how social justice in education has been defined over time and across far-flung corners of the education enterprise. The primary questions this work considers are: (1) How do scholars conceptualize and advocate for social justice in theory and practice? (2) How do practitioners engage in the practice of social justice? (3) Where do practitioners draw their theoretical understanding of, and ideas for, practicing, social justice? Keywords

Distributive justice · Social recognition · Equity · Preparation programs · Educational practitioners · Accreditation standards

Introduction Although myriad definitions detailing social justice span the literature, there are broad theoretical frameworks that capture the essence of how the term is used and discussed. This chapter articulates the themes that define social justice in the field of education and the ways in which these various social justice lenses are interpreted by educational practitioners. The primary questions this work considers are: 1. How do scholars conceptualize and advocate for social justice in theory and practice? 2. How do practitioners engage in the practice of social justice? 3. Where do practitioners draw their theoretical understanding of, and ideas for, practicing social justice? Although there is no consensus in the scholarly literature on how to specifically define social justice, there are recurring themes and concepts that are pervasive in the field. Likewise, there are activities of educators that are commonly described as promoting social justice or as areas where a social justice lens is acutely needed. Drawing from these examples it is possible to identify common threads that connect theory with practice as well as those ways in which scholarly conceptions of social justice depart from prevalent themes of social justice in education. Across theory and practice, two primary ways in which scholars tend to conceptualize social justice in education are distributive justice and social recognition. While these two concepts are not mutually exclusive in theory, they can in practice serve to unintentionally undermine the other. We explore in this chapter how these, and other social justice constructs, either conflict or complement each other and how these relationships look differently in theory compared to how they may look in professional practice. Of particular interest are ways in which recognition reframes what sorts of social goods we value in a just system and how an unjust distribution of goods can in turn exacerbate, or even create, obstacles for social recognition.

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A major bridge between theory and practice is how educator preparation programs teach the act of social justice. Two different approaches to thinking about social justice pervasive throughout the field are “education as social justice” – meaning that it is woven into the very act of being a good educator – versus social justice as an action of educators meaning it is a thing that educators intentionally do as a part of, or in concert with, their work as educators. While there are examples of exceptional educator preparation programs in the way they position social justice within their espoused values, curriculum, and internal practices, it is more often the case that educator preparation programs are emblematic of larger systems within which they operate. State licensure mandates, accreditation agencies, the textbook industry, and historical narratives all factor in how today’s US colleges and universities prepare graduates to work in K-12 schools. Schools have long played a central role in the arc of social movements and the evolution of how we understand our history, current context, and vision of a more just future. Largely because the very act of educating and caring for children is inherently interwoven with nearly every conceivable conception of social justice, the work of K-12 educators is replete with examples of social justice in action. Like any organization, there are macro and micro issues to explore. From a macro perspective, there are concerns about funding fairness, broad social and cultural contexts, external political mandates, and private sector pressures that affect the ways in which children and communities experience schools fairly or unfairly. More microlevel social justice concerns include how educators are hired, the school culture, student discipline, curriculum, and pedagogical practices, and individual interactions between and among everyone in schools and across stakeholders in the community. Many activities in schools that are intended to create a fairer way of working together tend to be more distributive in nature, often default to equality of opportunity as a benchmark, and are disassociated from (not internally couched in) the concept of social justice. Curriculum and pedagogical practices, however, are where educational practitioners appear most likely to engage in overtly anti-racist, pro-recognition social justice activities. Educators often use this lens to critique texts, testing materials, and world events that seep into, and influence, how the curriculum is interpreted and applied in context. Student discipline encompasses those activities that the scholarly literature tends to look at as ripe for injecting a social justice frame to conceptualize how practitioners do that work. This is an example of a continually emerging issue of fairness that is deeply influenced by systemic and deeply ingrained ideas about social norms. Combined with explicit and implicit bias and usually born out of emotionally charged confrontations we often see examples where a simple fairness lens fails to create a just system of student discipline.

Definitions of Social Justice For educators and scholars, social justice means both exploring what a socially equitable education system would look like and how education plays a role in developing and maintaining a socially just society. Modern definitions of the term

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draw from a wide variety of disciplines, theories, and social movements. Theological, political, philosophical, and social writings can all lay claim to influences on modern definitions of social justice – it is the multidisciplinary and multiaction nature of social justice that has evolved over a millennia that lends itself to being so elusive to singularly define. Equity and distributive justice are important themes in education policy, pedagogy, and the design of school systems. Education, itself an important social good, has implications for economic mobility, personal growth, and access to participation in democratic systems. It generally enhances the ability to acquire other valued goods. The degree to which people have access to educational goods, and variability in the quality and quantity of those goods, is an essential consideration for designing systems that are equitable and just. However, simply dividing complex constructs like “education” evenly or equitably falls short of acknowledging how various oppressive systems heavily influenced the design of those same educational goods and how systemic oppression has affected the ways in which people access education. Recognizing the ways in which some ideas and people are centered and valued, while others are marginalized and devalued informs the ways in which we distribute goods for social justice. Moreover, it informs the importance of social justice work that creates social systems where people are able to freely participate in society as their authentic selves.

Equity and Distributive Justice Although distributive justice figures prominently in how we think of financial resources and the fairness with which those resources are available to people, the idea of justice as fairness is also applied to any social goods and division of responsibilities. At the most macrolevel, distributive justice is used as a lens to explore the ways in which school funding is distributed across increasingly smaller units of analysis from US states all the way to individual children. Likewise, it is a way of exploring the various ways in which we balance individual versus collective goods and guides thinking about the fair distribution of responsibility for the cost of education. At the most micro level, we can use a distributive social justice lens to explore ways in which goods like teacher time and attention are shared with, and affect, individual students. When constructs like time, attention, discipline, and pedagogy are conceived as goods to be shared, then one way to conceive of social justice is fairness in terms of students’ access to those resources. Among the most prominent critiques of distributive approaches to social justice is that it positions children as consumers in a way that does not adequately acknowledge the ways in which they are “products of social processes and relations” (Young 1990, p. 27). Political philosopher John Rawls (1971) proposed a theory of justice that a free and rational person would accept in what he called the “original position of equality” (p. 11). Social arrangements and the division of social goods are moderated by these principles of justice in his work A Theory of Justice. The main principle of the original position holds that all members of society begin ignorant of their social

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status and abilities. In this hypothetical exercise, if we stripped people of the knowledge of their own strengths, intelligence, and social standing, as well as their own conceptions of the good, then we could imagine what sort of situation a person would be likely to accept without it being driven by their desire to advantage themselves. The original position is theoretically eliminating the ability of a person to “game the system” so they are more likely to benefit than others. Under these conditions, Rawls (1971) claims that people would promote two principles of justice: First Principle. Each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive basic liberty compatible with a similar system of liberty for all; Second Principle. Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are both: a. to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged, consistent with the just savings principle (referred to as the Difference Principle); and b. attached to offices and positions open to all under conditions of fair equality of opportunity. (p. 53)

The First Principle speaks to the rights of citizenship that are built from a social arrangement. These basic liberties in Rawls’s view encompass the sorts of citizenship rights we tend to think of in a free society, including the right to vote and serve in an elected position as well as freedom of speech and thought, due process, and the right to own property. The Second Principle considers the sorts of rights that are more often discussed through a social justice lens: power, opportunity, and social and economic disparity, including the distribution of financial resources. Generally speaking, these makeup what Rawls would consider to be broadly defined social goods that presumably all individuals would require to promote their own interests, whatever those might be. One way in which a Rawlsian approach supports the view of education as social justice is that to fully realize the individual social liberties in the first provision we must, as a society, attend to the division of educational resources. The mere availability of basic rights only goes so far because ultimately individuals must learn certain requisite skills and knowledge to take advantage of, and make use of, those liberties. For example, a person who lacks formal literacy will be far less likely to make effective use of the right to vote or hold public office on par with highly literate members of the same society. Moreover, those requisite literacy skills give way to a deeper understanding of the role of government, how it works, ways in which they may effectively engage with their representatives, and how to apply the rights afforded them. Rawls (1971) refers to the availability and opportunity to access and engage in democratic systems as “principle of equal liberty” (p. 61). So, what does equal liberty mean for schools and how they function in a society that is following a Rawlsian framework of distributive justice? At the most basic level, adherence requires that educational resources be distributed in ways that offer children the opportunity to access the rights of democratic participation, equitably. There are two parts of the Second Principle that also inform a just system of resourcing education. In the Difference Principle, Rawls argues that inequalities in

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the distribution of primary goods are only acceptable under the condition that they maximize the position of the least advantaged. Put another way, the outcome of allocating resources that privilege some over others must ultimately benefit all, particularly those with the greatest need. Rawls (1971) speaks directly to how educational resources are to be allocated: “In pursuit of [the difference principle] greater resources might be spent on the education of the less rather than the more intelligent, at least over a certain time of life, say the early years of school” (p. 101). He does note, however, that the Difference Principle refers to overall benefit, not strictly financial inputs, and so it also would allow for more resources to be shifted toward those most likely to benefit from those resources if all benefited from that system. In the second part of the Second Principle Rawls speaks to the fairness of opportunity to access social and economic goods. In determining what is fair, Rawls points to whether the criteria used to make determinations for how resources are to be distributed are morally relevant. The Second Principle in its entirety offers a framework for how a society distributes resources for schooling that develops the skills and knowledge affiliated with primary goods. It is in the debate over what goods are primary that we start to see an intersection of equity and adequacy that has played out in school finance litigation and state funding formulas. Some have argued that what Rawls describes is a fair distribution of some basic goods that serve as a foundation for economic and political participation. While it seems clear that Rawls would not allow for discrimination based on trivial characteristics, this interpretation creates a system where those educational goods considered extracurricular to the core function of schools are not subject to the same criteria of justice. Rawls (1971) appears to address this issue though in stating that personal and social fulfillment are also primary goods: [R]esources for education are not to be allotted solely or necessarily mainly according to their return as estimated in productive trained abilities, but also according to their worth in enriching the personal and social life of citizens, including here the less favored. (p. 107)

To the extent that schools are conceptualized more broadly than simply serving to support a basic level of participation in society, Rawls’ Second Principle applies equally to resource allocation throughout the curriculum.

Adequacy and the Democratic Threshold Political philosopher Amy Gutmann (1987) posits that educational resources (broadly defined) should be distributed in a way that adequately allows for democratic participation, provides opportunities for people to ultimately pursue a good life (as they conceive it), and supports the opportunity to identify and connect with communities, large and small. The Democratic Threshold Principle allows for educational goods to be distributed unequally if when doing so each child acquires the knowledge and skills required to effectively engage and participate in the

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democratic process. The Democratic Authorization Principle is constrained by the Democratic Threshold Principle in that institutions hold the authority to determine educational inputs at their discretion. Moreover, when a democratic threshold is met, resources may be allocated beyond the adequacy threshold. Gutmann, however, acknowledges that an educational adequacy threshold is not static, but rather relational, and the threshold itself may be modified by the disparities that grow between the most and least advantaged children. In essence, the gap between them may grow noticeably to the point that the inequity renders what was once considered adequate to be functionally inadequate. Gutmann (1987) further introduces concepts of fairness by placing limits on how institutions choose educational goals in the Principle of Nonrepression and the Principle of Nondiscrimination. The Principle of Nonrepression is concerned with protecting the opportunity people have to deliberate freely about individual and social views of the good and holds that those in authority should not quash those discussions and aspirations. Simply put, the Principle of Nondiscrimination holds that all children that can be educated should be. It implies both adequacy standards and Aristotelian equity standards. All children should have access to educational resources adequate to promote their full eventual participation in the democratic process. In cases where children would require additional resources to bring students up to the threshold standard, those resources must be provided. This would likely require variation in the resources children would receive, but ultimately the outcome should be that no person is excluded from having an adequate education.

Intersection of Equity and Adequacy In practice, we can find examples of both Gutmann’s (1987) Democratic Threshold Principle and Rawls’ (1971) First Principle of A Theory of Justice throughout attempts by district, state, and federal school funding systems to distribute educational resources and measure their impact on children. The belief that there is some sort of experience that children would receive in schools that is more important than others is at the heart of standard-based reform and is often tied, even if loosely, to their eventual ability to effectively participate as citizens in a democratic society and successfully engage in the economy. While adequacy standards are focused on the conviction that every child should have “enough,” they tend to distribute resources in ways that do not meet a Rawlsian standard of fairness. Where the Democratic Authorization Principle fails to meet the standards of resource distribution established by the Difference Principle in Rawls’ theory of justice is that institutions are allowed to allocate educational resources beyond the minimum standard without consideration of how it affects the least advantaged. Rawls’ theory, in the first part of the Second Principle, directly rejects the position that we should be allowed to continue funding inequities, even beyond an agreedupon level of adequacy, at the direct expense of the least advantaged. Equal opportunity is paramount even if the decision to fund schools in a way that violates equal opportunity is born out of a democratic process. To do otherwise is a clear

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violation of the second part of the Second Principle. Rawls ultimately argues that inequities are only allowable in systems that benefit the least advantaged, and only if those inequities are necessary to benefit the least advantaged. Where theory is challenged in practice with regard to the Difference Principle and the Democratic Threshold is that when implemented to distribute school funding they could serve as fiscal black holes. If resources are allocated to the least advantaged until one of two conditions is met, we may begin to experience increasingly minimal impact: (1) it somehow results in them becoming worse off, or (2) we realize equality. For this reason, efficiency matters as we consider how to best achieve equity-based outcomes because, as access to overall access to goods shrink, the share of the least advantaged may also shrink even as they experience a more equitable share in relation to others. In school finance, debates we see this play out as a leveling down proposal. To the extent, inequities develop in any distributive system Rawls (1971) addresses the importance that these are not a product of morally irrelevant characteristics: “Chances to acquire cultural knowledge and skills should not depend upon one’s class position, and so the school system, whether public or private, should be designed to even out class barriers” (p. 73). Where the theories of adequacy and equity like Gutmann and Rawls’s overlap helps us think about ways school funding reforms may serve both adequacy and equity goals. However, as Alexander (2013, p. 95) points out, adequacy definitions are often created in ways that fall short of not only broader equity goals but also tend to ignore the various social systems within which they operate, and the diversity of the communities they impact: Current definitions of adequacy do not necessarily address different social contexts faced by various student groups, including students of color, English-language learners, and immigrant students. While statistical models often include variables measuring percentages of poor, percentages of minorities, and so on, they exclude more qualitative factors like institutional racism, cultural incompetence, and the like.

Thus, there is a need for institutional racism, cultural incompetence, and the like to be factored into how we understand, frame, and address discriminatory practices and issues of basic fairness. Absent unpacking the historical, societal, and systemic roots of oppression, social justice efforts tend to be transient and woefully incomplete.

Social Recognition Social justice as recognition is a way of thinking about remedies for injustice that acknowledge how purely distributive approaches may in fact perpetuate oppression by devaluing the ways in which people are different. This is particularly true in the ways the goals of distribution are centered in the dominant frame. According to Cochran-Smith (2009), the tension between distributive and recognition then involves

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how to conceptualize the relationship between the notion of distributive justice that is central to modern liberal democracies, on one hand, and, on the other hand, contemporary struggles for the recognition of social groups based on culture, race, gender, religion, nationality, language, sexual orientation, and ability/disability—in short, in relation to the politics of identity and difference. (p. 453)

Questions about who is doing the labor and how governing bodies and decisionmakers are chosen are critical questions that tend to not be addressed by distributive approaches alone (Young 1990). Fraser (2014) described a shift in the central problem of justice from distribution to recognition: The most salient social movements are no longer economically defined ‘classes’ who are struggling to define their ‘interests,’ end ‘exploitation,’ and win ‘redistribution.’ Instead they are culturally defined ‘groups’ or ‘communities of value’ who are struggling to defend their ‘identities,’ end ‘cultural domination,’ and win ‘recognition’. (p. 2)

By looking for ways to reconcile politics of recognition with redistribution we can recognize ways in which economic disadvantages affect how people engage in every aspect of society and democracy, while also identifying the bias of certain cultural norms that are institutionalized throughout private and public sectors. North (2006) highlighted two kinds of friction that emerge when bringing together concepts of distribution and recognition that have implications for social justice in practice: The first tension involves differential emphasis on equality as difference and equality as sameness. The second entails varying attention to macrolevel processes, such as educational policymaking and social movement organizing, and microlevel processes, such as individual behaviors and daily social interactions in classrooms. (p. 508)

Broader institutionalized issues of recognition explore how norms, rules, and values are determined and perpetuated, and moderate what we think of as public goods in a distributive frame. Just as important are ways in which some things are implicitly or explicitly devalued and how that feeds an oppressive system. It is in this balance we can see that neither recognition nor distribution of goods can wholly serve to foster a socially just system and yet there are ways in which they conflict with each other. As explained by North (2006), On the one hand, a focus on recognition can distract from the ongoing exploitation of workers and the marginalization and powerlessness of impoverished people. On the other hand, an emphasis on redistribution does not necessarily challenge the underlying social structures and “doxa” (Bourdieu 1984) that sustain and perpetuate unequal power relations (pp. 510–511).

The balance between distributive and recognition approaches to social justice has implications across the education enterprise. Many issues of concern require an exploration of both micro and macrolevel phenomenon. Student discipline and

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school funding are prime examples of areas where social justice frames exist at both individual and systemic levels. While school finance issues tend to be discussed in terms of how state funding formulas are designed to promote equity and/or adequacy, it is also useful to consider how resources (broadly defined) are utilized at increasingly local levels until we see how individual teachers and students have access to, interact with, and make use of, school resources. Racial disparities in how children are disciplined in schools for similar offenses have been well documented in the scholarly literature (Gregory et al. 2017; Okonofua et al. 2016; Ritter and Anderson 2018), as well as by the United States Department of Justice ( 2014). The United States Department of Education Office for Civil Rights (2020) introduced their resource page on discriminatory discipline with a clear statement of the problem facing diverse students in US schools: In many educational institutions, students of color are disciplined more harshly and more frequently than other students, resulting in serious, negative educational consequences, particularly when such students are excluded from school. Although discipline decisions are inherently context-specific decisions about classroom management and school culture, a district’s discipline policies, procedures, and practices must comply with the non-discrimination requirements of Title VI. (para. 1)

Black students are disciplined far more often and severely than White students. They are nearly four times more likely to receive an out of school suspension. Also, Black students experience unequal treatment across the entire spectrum of different types of discipline in schools. A good example of how broader societal issues of justice (macro) and specific individual interactions (micro) are related to each other is the work of Riddle and Sinclair (2019) that explored how county-level measures of racial bias correlated with the level of racial imbalance in school discipline within those counties. Drawing upon approximately 1.6 million implicit bias tests with location data, they compared implicit bias scores with school discipline data in approximately 96,000 schools serving roughly 32 million White and Black students. The correlational relationship between community bias and racial disparities within the school setting speaks to ways in which bias and discrimination do not happen in a vacuum. Riddle and Sinclair posit that their exploratory analysis of possible moderators of this association indicates the relationship would be strongest in counties with the largest percentage population of White people, claiming, this correlation, “is partially consistent with hypotheses whereby disciplinary disparities are realized through the sociopolitical power of white residents who are able to dictate legislation, policies, or norms that contribute to these disparate outcomes” (p. 8528). Ways in which community norms influence school behaviors and policies speak not only to the ways in which school leaders must look beyond simply acting with fairness but also to how they actively engage in anti-racist leadership that identifies and roots out racist influences encompassing the school environment. Likewise, the issue of racial disparity in discipline highlights the intersection between fairness as justice and recognition. A strictly applied fairness lens in school discipline ignores, for example, norms around student choice of clothing and hairstyles (Hines-Datiri and Carter Andrews 2017). Intersectional analysis of gender and race in school

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discipline reveals that Black girls are far more likely to be disciplined for dress code violations (including hairstyle), aggressive or disruptive behavior, and disobedience. In fact, the disparity in discipline for these issues is greater between Black girls and their White counterparts than overall racial disparities in student discipline. Morris and Perry (2017) conclude that “school discipline penalizes African American girls for behaviors perceived to transgress normative standards of femininity” (p. 127). Social justice dispositions among school principals can make a difference in addressing both fairness and recognition in how school discipline systems are created and implemented. DeMatthews (2016) concluded that with regard to student discipline school leaders can be most effective when they critically engage in questioning: • Deficit perspectives and unacknowledged assumptions of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, and other marginalized groups • School and district discipline policies • Student discipline data and data trends as well as other sources of information on academic and social/emotional student well-being • School capacity to meet the diverse social, emotional, and academic needs of students • School history and relationships/rapport with families and community • Student-adult dynamics relevant to student discipline • Outside-of-school factors that contribute to educational inequities and racism (p. 9)

Social Justice in Practice School leaders are expected to create environments in schools where children are treated fairly in the ways they directly interface with the school. They are also challenged to address the ways in which schools as traditionally constructed may perpetuate systemic forms of oppression reflective of the communities they serve. Indeed, “leaders who are not critically self-aware and knowledgeable about racism and other histories of oppression may likely reproduce racism and other systemic oppressions in their schools” (Khalifa et al. 2016, p. 18). A social justice approach can be thought of as positionality, a set of analytical skills, and a disposition for positive transformation. Effective school leaders tend to work from a similar core set of behaviors that promote a vision, support professional growth, redesign effective systems, and manage the core mission of teaching and learning (DeMatthews et al. 2020; Leithwood et al. 2008). However, within these examples of effective leadership practices there are distinctions revealing how a social justice lens influences not only motivations and perspectives, but also the skills school leaders use to build systems and solve problems. DeMatthews et al. (2020) explored the work of principals that effectively built inclusive cultures in their schools. They classified principals as improvementfocused and intersectional-focused. Improvement-focused leaders engaged teachers

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in developing their capacity to use data effectively to improve their pedagogy, built intervention systems based on the best available research, and were actively involved in monitoring instruction. These principles saw building inclusive practices and raising student achievement as complementary and identified efficiencies for leveraging school resources to continually raise teacher capacity and expectations for students. Although there was a focus on high expectations for student achievement and improving the quality and access of special services, these principals also worked to holistically bring families into the fold as active and engaged partners. From a deep-seated desire to create schools that were inclusive and responsive to supporting families and the community as a whole, leaders invested in the cultural proficiency of teachers. DeMatthews et al. (2020) found that “Whether or not they critically questioned the meaning of disability, race or conventional approaches to special education, [improvement-focused] principals crafted a culture that valued inclusivity,” whereas “Principals [they] classified as intersectional-focused engaged in ongoing critique, called for rethinking traditional approaches to special education practices and routines, and recognized the unique cultural needs of Mexican American students living in low-income communities” (italics added to original). This research conducted by DeMatthews et al. (2020) reaffirms central claims by Bogotch (2002) and Theoharis (2007) that effective leadership practices cannot be extricated from concepts of social justice. What DeMatthews et al. bring to the fore is the idea that there are different levels of intentionality in the ways in which educators weave social justice framing into their work. In other words, teachers and school leaders working toward social justice outcomes approach their work in a variety of ways to meet those ends. In some cases, core tenets of a social justice frame are pervasive in their approach (social justice in education) and in other cases, they see good practice as the way to achieve that end (education as social justice). Theoharis (2007) offered a definition of social justice in education that encompasses both possibilities in stating that it means to “make issues of race, class, gender, disability, sexual orientation, and other historically and currently marginalizing conditions in the United States central to their advocacy, leadership practice, and vision” (p. 223). However, this is not to say that social justice leadership in schools simply happens as a byproduct of efficient and effective outcome-focused leadership. Growing attention is being paid to the importance of social justice as a significant factor in professional development (PD) and practice as educators translate their conceptual understandings of social justice and deeply consider the implications for their professional roles and responsibilities (Arthur 2005, 2008). Although social justice is an invaluable construct in terms of supporting not only students but the educators that serve them, a number of barriers have also been identified in implementing social justice interventions (Arthur et al. 2009). However, even though practitioners often recognize the importance of environmental and systemic influences on their careers, they frequently lack formal training about how to specifically implement them. As we consider how practitioners might translate social justice into professional practices, it is also important to acknowledge the importance of administrative support through PD and funding structures.

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Exploring the sorts of resistance educators face in implementing social justice reforms adds context to any effort to define what social justice work means in practice. Theoharis (2007) identified resistance from within the school, immediate community, the district level, and in state and federal regulations that restricted their efforts. The overarching themes of resistance included a desire to maintain the status quo, implicit and explicit bias that diminished the value and abilities of children, and the relatively small number of people around them who also centered social justice in their work. The effects of an accumulation of resistance to social justice work resulted in feelings of discouragement and took a substantial toll on the well-being of social justice leaders in schools. In total, these barriers created a sense of isolation and the sorts of strategies that effective social justice leaders used to overcome this resistance all revolved around building community. Purposeful and authentic communication, building a network of educators engaged in social justice work, and integrating democratic structures into school systems to empower those around them were primary examples of the ways educators responded to resistance. Ultimately, social justice is a community effort that necessitates coalition building, support, communication, and empowered participation (Ryan 2010; Theoharis 2007). In this regard, the work of social justice is inherently political and requires both empowering and leveraging positions of privilege. The importance of democratizing social justice efforts and building coalitions of support extends to teachers working directly with students. A critical element of teaching for social justice is that students are not only becoming more aware of the injustice in the world around them but that they develop their own agency and see themselves playing a role in transforming their world. For that to happen the pedagogy of social justice must include deepening their understanding of the lived experience of others within the context of the larger economic, societal, and political climate that helped create those lived experiences (Gutstein 2003). Gutstein synthesized the work of Delpit (1988), Freire (1992), Ladson-Billings (1994), and Murrell (Murrell Jr. 1997) to identify goals of social justice pedagogy, the three primary ones being “helping students develop sociopolitical consciousness, a sense of agency, and positive social and cultural identities” (p. 40). Published studies of educators who are engaged in teaching for social justice indicate five primary theoretical frameworks that underpin their work: democratic education, critical pedagogy, multicultural education, culturally responsive education, and social justice education. Descriptions of what that work looks like can be categorized as pedagogy, curriculum, and/or social action (Dover 2013). LadsonBillings (2006) offered that culturally relevant teaching should focus on student achievement, cultural competence, and socio-political consciousness. Synthesizing the primary frameworks of Ladson-Billings (2006) and Gay (2010), Aronson and Laughter (2016) posited these four elements of teaching for social justice that reflect the practice of culturally relevant teaching. 1. Culturally relevant educators use constructivist methods to develop bridges connecting students’ cultural references to academic skills and concepts. Culturally relevant educators build on the knowledge and cultural assets students bring

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with them into the classroom; the culturally relevant classroom is inclusive of all students. 2. Culturally relevant educators engage students in critical reflection about their own lives and societies. In the classroom, culturally relevant educators use inclusive curricula and activities to support the analysis of all the cultures represented. 3. Culturally relevant educators facilitate students’ cultural competence. The culturally relevant classroom is a place where students both learn about their own and others’ cultures and also develop pride in their own and others’ cultures. 4. Culturally relevant educators explicitly unmask and unmake oppressive systems through the critique of discourses of power. Culturally relevant educators work not only in the classroom but also in the active pursuit of social justice for all members of society. (p. 167) Addressing persistent and significant inequalities in educational opportunities and experiences for students in K-12 and higher education remains a core feature of social justice in education. Despite well-documented advances in the availability of educational resources, progress made in narrowing achievement gaps, and access to higher education, socioeconomic background is still the strongest predictor of educational attainment (Francis et al. 2017). So, while inclusive and fair educational practices can play an important role in addressing inequities in student achievement, there are concerns that the ways in which schools measure achievement actually serve to undermine social justice efforts (Shields 2013). However, core features of social justice work are student learning, educational goal achievement, and graduation. Ultimately, the skills and knowledge students gain in school will have a dramatic impact on their ability to fully engage in democratic and economic systems and successfully pursue their own vision of a good life (Capper and Young 2014; Furman and Gruenewald 2004). Conflict about how to think about student achievement in social justice pedagogy does not land on the position that achievement does not matter or that it is the only thing that matters. Rather, it is that culturally responsive teaching, delivered in a socially just environment, is the most promising way to realize high learning outcomes for a diverse student population. In practice, teachers report that a standards-driven culture in schools does create obstacles for realizing a social justice pedagogy. Finding time in the curriculum, layering social justice themes into existing standards, and developing the skills to teach in a culturally responsive, anti-racist way that critically examines traditional texts and narratives are among the challenges teachers face (Dover 2016).

Professional Standards of Practice and Preparation Perhaps no venue for discussing social justice in education has been more politicized than in developing professional standards for practice and preparation programs. In 2006, the National Council for the Accreditation of Teacher Education (NCATE) (since renamed Council for the Accreditation of Teacher Preparation [CAEP]) went so far as to purge the phrase social justice from its glossary of teacher dispositions: “Dispositions are guided by beliefs and attitudes related to values such as caring,

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fairness, honesty, responsibility, and social justice” (Heybach 2009, p. 235). The American Council of Trustees and Alumni former President Anne Neal recommended, That the certification of NCATE not be renewed until it ceased encouraging education schools to judge students’ commitment to politicized concepts such as social justice and diversity via evaluations of their dispositions. . . . The Department of Education should demand clearly defined principles which relate directly to a prospective teacher’s future success namely skills and subject matter knowledge not feelings, values, and dispositions. (Heybach 2009)

In 2006, NCATE former President Arthur Wise responded by stating, I have come to learn, painfully over the last year . . . the phrase has acquired some new meanings, evidently connected to a radical social agenda. So lest there be any misunderstanding about our intentions in this regard, we have decided to remove this phrase totally from our vocabulary. (as cited in Heybach 2009, p. 236)

The desire to steer clear of explicitly identifying social justice in accreditation standards and supporting documents has since shifted, albeit the 2013 CAEP standards do not mention social justice, fairness, or equity and only mention diversity with regard to the diversity of experiences a student may have and the diversity of a pool of candidates in an educator preparation program. However, the National Educational Leadership Preparation Program Standards for school building level administrators lean heavily into actions and dispositions that clearly fall within a definition of social justice. Even more so, the Professional Standards for Educational Leaders (PSEL 2015) speak directly to social justice in addressing expectations of educational leaders: “Articulate, advocate, and cultivate core values that define the school’s culture and stress the imperative of child-centered education; high expectations and student support; equity, inclusiveness, and social justice; openness, caring, and trust; and continuous improvement.” The PSEL Standards also dedicate standard 3 to “equity and cultural responsiveness” as follows: • Ensure that each student is treated fairly, respectfully, and with an understanding of each student’s culture and context. • Ensure that each student has equitable access to effective teachers, learning opportunities, academic, and social support, and other resources necessary for success. • Confront and alter institutional biases of student marginalization, deficit-based schooling, and low expectations associated with race, class, culture and language, gender and sexual orientation, and disability or special status. • Act with cultural competence and responsiveness in their interactions, decisionmaking, and practice. • Address matters of equity and cultural responsiveness in all aspects of leadership. • Recognize, respect, and employ each student’s strengths, diversity, and culture as assets for teaching and learning.

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• Develop student policies and address student misconduct in a positive, fair, and unbiased manner. Likewise, the National Council of Teachers of English (2012) adopted standards that explicitly center social justice for teachers of English Language Arts (ELA): Candidates demonstrate knowledge of how theories and research about social justice, diversity, equity, student identities, and schools as institutions can enhance students’ opportunities to learn in [ELA]. Element 1: Candidates plan and implement [ELA] and literacy instruction that promotes social justice and critical engagement with complex issues related to maintaining a diverse, inclusive, equitable society. Element 2: Candidates use knowledge of theories and research to plan instruction responsive to students’ local, national and international histories, individual identities (e.g., race, ethnicity, gender expression, age, appearance, ability, spiritual belief, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, and community environment), and languages/dialects as they affect students’ opportunities to learn in ELA. (p. 2) Weaving social justice explicitly into professional standards for educators and leaders and providing definitions of social justice in guiding documents for educator and leader preparation programs extent to, and permeate, the entire field of education. Moreover, these standards and documents establish social justice as an essential practice for serving students and communities as well as teachers and school leaders. The current discourse of professional standards of practice and preparation has moved social justice practice in schools from being thought of as an add-on that some people in the building do to a central requirement that is core to good pedagogy and leadership.

Teaching Social Justice in Educator Preparation Programs While most educator preparation programs touch on elements of social justice in their curriculum it tends to be couched in the language of equity and fairness. This sort of focus on equity and excellence is common and attempts to connect social justice to existing values at the forefront of educational systems around test scores. The struggle to translate culturally responsive theory to pedagogy and practice is a common challenge in attempts to describe how educator preparation programs might cultivate a social justice lens in working with teacher and school leader candidates (Zygmunt and Clark 2016). Moreover, there is a danger in simply exposing teacher candidates to diverse environments without critically engaging in the context and lived experience of the people in those communities. Gallego (2001) warned, Though teacher education students may be placed in schools with large, culturally diverse student populations, many of these schools are isolated from and not responsive to their local communities and therefore do not provide the kind of contact with communities needed to

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overcome negative attitudes toward culturally different students and their families and communities. . . . Indeed, without connections between the classroom, school, and local communities, classroom field experiences may work to strengthen preservice teachers’ stereotypes of children. (p. 314)

Regarding leadership candidates, McKenzie et al. (2008) proposed that educational leadership preparation programs should position their social justice efforts with three goals in mind: (1) a focus on raising the academic achievement of all children in their care; (2) preparing students to engage the society as critical citizens’ (3), and understanding that to accomplish both high achievement and critically engaged citizens children must experience a rich and engaging curriculum in an inclusive environment. Critics of the ways in which educator preparation programs engage in social justice argue that the phrase itself is loosely defined, which leads to great variability across programs and any equity or multicultural based activities. Cochran-Smith (Cochran-Smith 2009) added that it can be harmful to avoid grounding the work of social justice in educator preparation programs in a theoretical framework: “Only a few of those who write about teacher education and social justice are explicit about the philosophical and political roots of social justice education . . ., which increases the likelihood that it exists in name only . . . or that it is diluted, trivialized or coopted” (p. 445). Preparation programs are challenged to engage their students in a social justice curriculum and fieldwork experience that bridges theory and practice. Ways to accomplish this range from anchoring social justice themes in existing and measurable educational goals like student achievement equity to exploring how educators can incorporate ideas of recognition and systemic oppression. A unifying theme, however, seems to be identifying the educator as a transformative change agent (Furman 2012). Today’s practitioners must learn and be supported to practice social justice change not only while students but also in their professional practice (Birkenmaier 2003). It is in defining what should change, the forces that work against change, how and who must be engaged in the process of change, and the intended purpose or direction of the transformation that preparation programs are pushed to define what a social justice disposition means to them and their candidates. As Kose (2007) pointed out (see Furman 2012), social justice leaders “continuously examine whether student learning is equitable for all student groups and encourage teachers to critically examine their practice for possible bias in regard to race, class, and gender” (p. 279). One way in which education preparation programs define social justice is to focus on the intellectual process and pragmatic dispositions that are foundational to engaging schools with a social justice lens (Cambron-McCabe and McCarthy 2005). Brown and Shaked (2018) identified several practical ways educational leadership programs focus their social justice curriculum, including, participating in field-based inquiry focused on oppression and discrimination, analyzing empirical data regarding racism in schools, examining stereotypes related to oppression, facilitating the creation of a rigorous and inclusive curriculum, and developing socially just practices among all individuals within the school community. (p. 41)

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Contemporary higher education programs that focus on graduating students that will act as transformational change agents in schools and communities often explicitly or implicitly identify the sorts of expertise and inquiry it takes to identify and reconstruct oppressive systems. While it is common to include social justice as an element of university graduate education programs, there are institutions that lead with a social justice disposition, and dispositions towards anti-racist pedagogy and curriculum, for example, permeate their work. In Texas, USA, the University of Texas at Austin’s Educational Leadership and Policy program and its Texas Principal Leadership Academy (TPLA)’s core curriculum and values reflect this commitment, as documented, which is “to prepare equity-minded, socially just school leaders who,” to quote: • • • • • •

Seek equity and excellence for all students (social justice anti-racist leadership) Build capacity for teaching and learning excellence Advocate for and ensure equitable support systems for all Foster school culture valuing inclusiveness, diversity, and cultural proficiency Prepare executive leaders who promote ethical policies and practices Partner authentically and equitably with families and communities (Texas Education 2020, para. 1)

The commitment to leading with a social justice lens in the University of Texas’s College of Education appears to be in part stewarded by the Social Justice, Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Committee (Texas Education 2020b) that offers its own definition of what social justice means and why it is important: We believe that diversity is inextricably linked to excellence. We believe that embracing diversity and social justice—in our faculty, staff, students, research, curricula, and service to the community—creates a rich atmosphere for teaching, learning, and inquiry and is a necessary condition for preparing our graduates to succeed in a diverse world and to change it for the better. We recognize a history of oppression, inequity, and structural discrimination in the university, local, state, and national context. We leverage diversity and interdisciplinarity as critical components in our innovative research, inclusive and empowering curricula, and professional leadership. (para. 2)

Likewise, the TPLA states that the goal of the program is to prepare graduates to, “become leaders of socially just, equitable, and high-achieving public schools in Texas” (Texas Education 2020c, para. 1). Educator preparation programs like those at the University of Texas distinguish themselves in their focus not only with regard to seeking to create socially just educational systems but also emphasizing dispositions, knowledge, and skills that promote actively anti-racist graduates that seek to identify and transform systemic inequities. Rather, social justice school leadership includes centering goals of inclusion, equity, and anti-oppression as necessary and complementary outcomes to support student achievement and growth of the whole child. Moreover, it requires strategies for overcoming obstacles and resistance to transformation.

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Conclusion Over several decades the term social justice has become increasingly well developed in the field of education both in terms of its pervasiveness and agreement across the field on what it means, at least with respect to the broader themes. The events of the year 2020 have accelerated that process as both the coronavirus pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement in the US have laid bare and highlighted persistent inequities, systemic racism, and education’s position in addressing those issues. Moreover, the ways in which education, public health, and the economy are inextricably linked have forced issues like food security, affordable childcare, and equitable internet access to the forefront of public discourse. The tension between ameliorating and mitigating systemic inequity is particularly high in times of economic downturn and societal shifts. As the processes that have been in place to mitigate the effects of unjust systems buckle under the pressure of financial hardships, critiques emerge of why those mitigation strategies were allowed to carry the burden for so long instead of deeper systemic, social justice-based solutions. Linking the food security of children to their enrollment in public schools was one of the initial problems realized when schools began to shut down face-toface instruction beginning in March of 2020 and then had to invent new strategies for delivering food into the communities they served, or make meals available on the school site in ways that respected COVID-19 mitigation protocols for safe distancing and food handling. As K-12 schools explored ways to provide remote instruction, concerns over access to reliable Internet access and the availability of an adult in the home to help deliver alternative instruction raised equity concerns across the United States. The entire portfolio of services provided by schools, ranging from counseling to support for students with physical and cognitive special needs to health screenings, were made difficult or impossible to deliver. These disparities in home resources, absent school-based interventions, highlighted concerns over a potentially widening socioeconomic learning gap. Critiques of mitigation strategies that largely ignored the deeper, more systemic issues of justice as the root cause of the problem were not new to the historic context of 2020. They trace as far back as the earliest attempts to place schools in a central role in creating a more equitable society. The desegregation of schools in the US after the Brown v. Board of Education decision of 1954 is perhaps the most prominent example of educators on the frontlines of a social justice movement within the context of a society that remained silent on systemic racism or refused to address many of the core issues. Socio-emotional learning initiatives, mindfulness programs, and grit-based interventions are examples of school efforts that have been portrayed by some as attempts to engage with students in ways that help them achieve in school and improve their overall well-being. To the extent this work has focused on children who are traditionally disadvantaged it has been described as a way to improve upon inequities. However, these same programs have been criticized for distracting from the broader societal ills that created the need for those initiatives. Framed as deficit-

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based approaches, they have been decried as pushing the impetus for change on the individual child to “overcome” the injustice rather than focusing energy on making it so the world in which they live is more just. The Black Lives Matter movement in the wake of George Floyd’s death on May 25, 2020 amplified social justice themes of recognition and rooting out systemic forms of oppression. K-12 and higher education institutions were moved to not only quickly interpret their own systems and behaviors through this social justice lens, but to enact changes and engage in dialogs to reflect on their own role in a transformative social justice mission. In some cases, this created political flashpoints and battles for defining social justice in polarizing ways. In a July 4, 2020 address at Mount Rushmore National Memorial, South Dakota, US President Trump (White House 2020) attempted to brand “social justice” as a movement that was dangerous to preserving historically White male-dominated heritage, saying, The radical ideology attacking our country advances under the banner of social justice. But in truth, it would demolish both justice and society. It would transform justice into an instrument of division and vengeance, and it would turn our free and inclusive society into a place of repression, domination, and exclusion. (para. 49)

Social justice efforts used as fuel to stoke culture wars are not new. The call to reclaim or hold on to heritage is a common rebuttal of efforts on K-16 campuses that involve critiquing curriculum and challenging prominent displays of historical figures like statues or the naming of buildings and schools. Conversations about the names of buildings, statues, and key figures in the curriculum in schools and colleges speak directly to representation and who we elevate, and which sorts of activities we honor and value. It is not trivial to debate which stories we give voice to and which we ignore. The discussion of who we read and how their story is contextualized in the curriculum is central to social justice in education. In a similar vein, educational leaders are tasked to explore the ways in which their faculty and staff represent the communities they serve. At the most basic and universal level, diversity and inclusion efforts measure how diverse faculty, staff, and students are, and the fairness with which they are recruited and hired. K-12 and higher education organizations could be looking at how employees are treated differently with regard to their work experience and how likely they are to stay in their jobs. Inclusion efforts can be difficult to measure, such as if students and staff feel valued, free to be their authentic selves, and celebrated. Diversity is increasingly examined by asking critical questions about how we conceptualize differences and what is centered or normed within a diverse society. Education is foundational to any social justice movement. While the act of educating children itself is considered by many a form of social justice, schools often reflect the communities they serve. For any transformation in our society that creates fairer, more inclusive and representative systems to become a reality, there must be in place educational systems that share and promote all values of justice, including fairness and inclusion. Moreover, educational goods themselves must be fairly distributed and centered in nonoppressive ways if they are to result in a fairer,

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less oppressive society. Both education as social justice and social justice-based transformations of how we do education are essential components of positive change that depart from the status quo. Despite the centrality of education to the broader transformative goals of any social justice movement, identifying a singular, universally accepted definition of social justice in education remains elusive. Tracking the evolution of how the phrase is used over time, there appear to be three expanding and deepening ways the field currently talks about social justice. First, the types of activities and philosophical explorations that define social justice are expanding. Despite some attempts to claim the verbiage and narrow the definition of social justice, the “tent” has grown larger. Second, where it was once avoided for being too politically volatile it is now more openly embraced and mainstreamed both in the way the vocabulary of social justice and the values inherent within it are openly embraced. Third, there appear to be deepening connections at the intersection of distributive justice, social recognition, and macro and micro conceptions of justice. Increasingly, distributive justice efforts are contextualized and moderated by deep-rooted societal norms and values that drive our understanding of the educational goods we are distributing, and who benefits from them depending on how they are situated. Broader concepts like anti-racism are increasingly thought of more concretely and are more likely to translate into measurable advocacy goals. Fairness and inclusion remain at the core of social justice, but increasingly these concepts are conceptualized in more dynamic and complex ways. Acknowledging the depth and pervasiveness of systemic oppression may at times risk overwhelming educators to effect positive social justice change. However, understanding and giving voice to the complex and long-standing nature of social injustices also gives rise to the multitude of ways educators can be agents for change. Raising the collective critical consciousness of injustice and all of the contributing forces that create and maintain systemic oppression is an important role for educators to play in a pro-social transformative movement. To engage in that work effectively also requires an understanding of what role one can play in advocating for social justice. The more expansive and inclusive the lexicon of social justice becomes, and the more that conversations about social justice become politically normed within educational systems, the more educators will likely feel they have both a role and a responsibility to forge a path forward toward a more just society.

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Still Searching for Leadership in Educational Leadership A Postmodern Analysis of the Social Justice Discourse Within the Field Fenwick W. English

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 The Nature of Social Justice Interventions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 The Lens of Postmodernism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 The Meta-field: Understanding the Concept of Apparatus and “A Field of Power” . . . . . . . . . . 86 Interventions Within the Foucauldian “Enunciative Field” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 A Field of Memory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 A Field of Presence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 A Field of Concomitance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Methods of Postmodern Analyses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 De-construction (Method #1) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Genealogy (Method#2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Tracking the Trace (Method #3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Barriers to Social Justice Interventions in Higher Education Preparation Programs . . . . . . . . . . 91 A. A Near Half-Century of Textual Unresponsiveness to Social Justice Issues (Barrier #1) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 B. School Leaders Are Agents of Organizational Conservatism (Barrier #2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 C. Social Science Methods that Erase Subjectivity and Diminish Moral Choices (Barrier #3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 D. An Aversion to Emotionality and Other Nonrational Factors in Decision-Making (Barrier #4) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 E. National Leadership Standards: A Troubling Legacy (Barrier #5) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 F. A Field Historically Dominated by Rampant Anti-intellectualism (Barrier #6) . . . . . . . . . 101 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103

F. W. English (*) Teachers College, Ball State University, Muncie, IN, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_78

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Abstract

Social justice interventions in preparation programs for educational leaders have been very slow to develop. Such interventions face a formidable set of barriers in implementing anything approaching deep curricular change. This chapter examines specific barriers to whole-scale social justice interventions and illustrates through a postmodern lens why it has been difficult to implement much more than microlevel interventions. Higher education programs are not independent, but rather they are interdependent with funding, regulatory, oversight, and accrediting bodies that impose their own set of rules and standards upon preparation programs. This interconnectivity among agencies and institutions linked together comprises a Foucauldian apparatus, a network of agents within a dynamic social fabric in which those agencies seek to expand their sphere of influence on the others. Complicating the climate for change is the fact that regnant social science paradigms reflect a post-positivist dominance and the professoriate has historically been the province of former practitioners who tend to exhibit a pronounced fear and aversion of too theoretical readings and perspectives. Keywords

Discourse · Apparatus · Postmodernism · Enunciative field · Logic of practice · Power-knowledge · Genealogy · Michel Foucault · Jacques Derrida · De-construction

Introduction The presence of leadership in most organizations is one of the critical elements of its success and survival. One could rationally argue that leadership and organizational excellence are tautological, that is, it is believed that a successful organization is defined by its leader or a process known as “leadership.” A similar relationship is believed to be the hallmark of an excellent school. An axiom of this tautology would therefore be a successful school only exists because of the presence of a successful principal. One defines the other. This tautology becomes explicit when claims regarding national standards for leadership stipulate that “A school administrator is an educational leader who promotes the success of all students by facilitating the development, articulation, implementation, and stewardship of a clear vision of learning that is shared and supported by the school community” (Ubben et al. 2001, p. 2). In this statement it is “the clear vision” of the principal that creates “success of all students.” The opposite relationship is equally applicable, i.e., if the school administrator lacks a “clear vision,” not all students will or can succeed. This chapter seeks to unlock this tautology through a postmodern lens by examining the discourse in the field (English 2013). A discourse “contributes to the constitution of all those dimensions of social structure which directly or indirectly shape and constrain it. Discourse is a practice, not just of representing the

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world, but of signifying the world, constituting and constructing the world in meaning” (Fairclough 1992, p. 64).

The Nature of Social Justice Interventions The nature of social justice interventions in preparatory programs that profess to teach leadership has only a recent history. Such interventions can be visualized as existing on a continuum beginning with (1) inserting it within a curricular unit within an existing course; (2) creating a specific course about social justice, but not studying it anywhere else; (3) citing social justice issues in most if not all of the courses; or (4) scrapping the entire curriculum and revamping it on major social justice themes or issues. These curricular possibilities involve decisions regarding scope, continuity, integration, and sequencing (Goodland and Su 1992). Scope refers to the breadth of a topic. Continuity is concerned with how many times a concept, idea, or topic reoccurs within the total curriculum. Integration refers to the extent to which a topic or theme is embedded or mixed with other topics, while sequencing regards decisions about the ordering design. Armstrong (1992) has indicated that there are four types of sequencing . They are the chronological approach, the thematic approach, the part-to-whole approach, and the whole-to-part approach. The more an intervention disrupts whatever is already in place within a leadership program, the more radical it is. There are many reasons why a wholesale redesign intervention would be considered highly unlikely as the subsequent postmodern analysis will indicate. The postmodern approach casts a long shadow of doubt about claims made by practitioners and professors that they even teach leadership let alone social justice. A postmodern approach also closely interrogates the subject matter content which is believed to define the nature of leadership. It similarly interrogates the research methods which continue to add to the knowledge base of the field and to probe deeply into the assumptions upon which that leadership is legitimated as correct, truthful, and/or generalizable. These analyses are language dependent for as Usher and Edwards (1996) explain: “. . . for scientific knowledge to exist, it has to be expressed in language, in a form of narrative. It is therefore subject to the rules which govern the ways in which languages are used within social formations” (p. 156). Next, the language used to capture the essence of leadership is examined.

The Lens of Postmodernism Researchers thoroughly schooled in modernism with its hallmarks of rationality, logic, evidence, and a coherent set of principles often find extreme difficulty in grasping the postmodern position. It seems like trying to peer through the fog. Postmodernity is not a “thing.” It has no “thingness” to it. It is what it isn’t. That’s the reason Lyotard (1997) defined postmodernism as “An incredulity toward

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metanarratives” (p. xxiv). He also opined that rather than being seen as a kind of linear phenomenon following modernism, many view it as part and parcel of modernism. Lyotard (1992) also insists that “a work can become modern only if it is first postmodern. Thus understood, postmodernism is not modernism at its end, but in a nascent state, and this state is recurrent” (p. 22). If true then, this would explain why postmodernism lacks definitional precision or characteristics of chronology and has no coherent philosophical premises or content. It starts with doubt and maintains deep skepticism about established truths, norms, rules, axioms, customs, traditions, or laws. The postmodern position is an attitude about paradigms, often referred to as metanarratives (Cherryholmes 1988). They insist that metanarratives are inherently prejudiced because they center some things and marginalize others. In fact, the “centering” process of the normal scientific theory development procedure is inherently arbitrary and most often benefits those already in power. And those in power are usually part of the established field of power-knowledge. These existing role incumbents have difficulty seriously challenging what exists because their own positions of power and influence are firmly embedded in the dominant powerhierarchy. This predicament is often why reformers don’t really change much and resort to repackaging and relabeling the status quo (English and Bolton 2016; McDonnell and Weatherford 2013).

The Meta-field: Understanding the Concept of Apparatus and “A Field of Power” The arena where intervention occurs in higher education may be transparent on some accounts but hidden in others. The social space where intervention occurs is anything but visible. This space may be referred to as a kind of “meta-field” (Wacquant 1992, p. 18). A “meta-field” may be mapped. What is required is an identification of the agents/groups/institutions which can be located as players and then to work to understand the dispositions of each one and their respective agendas. While two-dimensional views of a social space may be used to map these players, it should be remembered that static views of such a space may provide a false perspective because “There is no level playing ground in a social field; players who begin with particular forms of capital are advantaged at the outset because the field depends on, as well as produces more of, that capital” (Thomson 2009, p. 69). The “meta-field” is also hierarchical because decisions regarding the content and composition of higher education preparatory programs are not the final or most powerful resting place for the authority to change habits, practices, ideologies, or theories regarding educational leadership. Colin Gordon (1980), explaining Foucault’s conception of “power-knowledge,” described the reality of the complex web of relations that comprise the state of affairs at any moment in time:

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Power must be analyzed as something which circulates, or rather as something which only functions in the form of a chain. It is never localized here or there, never in anybody’s hands, never appropriated as a commodity or a piece of wealth. Power is employed and exercised through a net-like organization. And not only do individuals circulate between its threads; they are always in the position of simultaneously undergoing and exercising this power . . . individuals are the vehicles of power, not its points of application. (p. 98)

The distribution of power coexists in a chain of agencies and individuals that Foucault (1980) called the “apparatus.” He defined it even more broadly as “a thoroughly heterogeneous ensemble consisting of discourses, institutions, architectural forms, regulatory decisions, laws, administrative measures, scientific statements, philosophical, moral and philanthropic propositions . . . Such are the elements of the apparatus” (p. 194). The interconnectivity of actors and agents within the apparatus acts in ways that are both stimulants and barriers to changes which impact all of those actors and agents within the network as a whole. None of them is independent and can act without considering, consulting, or conjoining with one or more of them. This dynamic is a never ending social and political struggle because, as Bourdieu explained, “Legitimacy is indivisible: there is no agency to legitimate the legitimacy” (Bourdieu and Passeron 1970/2000, p. 18). Social justice thinking in educational leadership also began not as a coherent movement but as a deep sense of moral indignation and a grappling with the fundamental issue of fairness among human beings. Its ascent in the curricula of educational leadership programs was and remains controversial, uneven, and ambiguous, particularly as some aspects of the manifestation of a more full-bodied definitional content of social justice have expanded and emerged over time (see Oliva and Anderson 2006). It is a perfect example of the postmodern moment merging into a modernistic agenda which is still a movement in progress.

Interventions Within the Foucauldian “Enunciative Field” In his classic book The Archaeology of Knowledge regarding the nature of knowledge, Michel Foucault (1972) posited that an enunciative field was comprised of a series of statements within a designated social space, but above all, “a set of rules for arranging statements in series, an obligatory set of schemata of dependence, of order, and of successions, in which the recurrent elements that may have value as concepts were distributed” (p. 57). And Foucault asserted that the nature of knowledge was not formed as though it was “out there” awaiting discovery. Rather, knowledge: is constructed through the process of interaction between human beings, during which reality is negotiated, and may evolve through the process of further discussions. Within this perspective, knowledge is relative rather than absolute because it is produced through interpersonal discourse. (Oliver 2010, p. 157)

A discourse, however, “is more than just language, it is also the emphasis of a complex set of practices that engage some statements while at the same time

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excluding others” (Niesche 2011, p. 20). Bourdieu (1998) referred to this phenomenon as “the logic of practice” or “logic of work” and observed that “they (practitioners) may engage in behaviors one can explain, as the classical philosophers would say, with the hypothesis of rationality, without their behavior having reason as its principle” (p. 76). According to Foucault (1972), an “enunciative field” can be broken down into (1) a field of presence, (2) a field of concomitance, and (3) a field of memory and that these coexist in a designated social space.

A Field of Memory A field of memory consists of those concepts, metaphors, ideas, and theories which are no longer considered relevant or applicable to researchers or scientists in the field. Of course there may be disagreements about such things. One example in educational leadership is “scientific management,” the brainchild of American management consultant Frederick W. Taylor who lived in the time period 1856– 1915 (Kanigel 1997). The doctrine of “scientific management” blossomed in educational administration between 1911 and 1916 (Callahan 1962). Scientific management was about measuring work, establishing work standards, and increasing work productivity, i.e., output. The adoption of “scientific management” in the schools took a firm hold within the national Department of Superintendence within what is now the National Education Association. Professors in higher education became infatuated with it and openly supported it. Indeed one could argue that a separate field of educational administration was the offspring of Frederick Taylor’s seminal studies in the steel industry. Today that history is considered fairly tawdry by most scholars of the field. It is viewed as relic of a past that is never saluted as even salutary but acknowledged (Button 1990). A corollary is how the field of psychiatry thinks about Sigmund Freud today (Sulloway 1979). So “scientific management” as a past practice and mode of thinking is in the field of memory of the field of educational administration. However, in the basic principles of scientific management, the deskilling of work involved, breaking a total job into much smaller parts to reduce the cost of labor, is very much in the field of presence as Slossen (2001) vividly explained in his expose of the American fast food industry. The influence of scientific management morphed into an entire discourse centered on efficiency with the implicit corollary assumption that if things were cheaper, they had to be better (see Tyack 1975).

A Field of Presence The statements in a field of presence are those that are believed to be “truthful, involving exact description, well-founded reasoning, or necessary presuppositions” (Foucault 1972, p. 57). The relations within the discourse of a field of presence are established by “the order of experimental verification, logical validation, mere

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repetition, acceptance justified by tradition and authority, commentary, a search for hidden meanings, the analysis of error” (Foucault 1972, p. 57).

A Field of Concomitance The field of concomitance is comprised of statements, theories, and concepts which belong to other fields than educational administration or educational leadership. As an applied field educational administration has borrowed extensively from psychology, sociology, anthropology, biology, and in contemporary times from business and economics. The reasons for such borrowing is “because they serve as analogical confirmation . . . as models that can be transferred to other contents, or because they function as a higher authority than that to which at least certain propositions are presented and subjected” (Foucault 1972, p. 58). Some examples are from a 1939 social psychology experiment, the concept of leadership style (Lewin et al. 1939); scientific management from business (Kanigel 1997); vouchers and privatization of schools from economics (Friedman 1962); total quality management from economics (Deming 1993); and emerging leadership models from social cognitive neuroscience (Lakomski et al. 2017).

Methods of Postmodern Analyses The postmodern approach to textual discourse involves at least three forms of analytical methods: (1) de-construction, (2) genealogy, and (3) tracking the trace (English 2013, p. 873). These are not “new” in the sense that they form a kind of methodological triumvirate embodying postmodernism. Rather these forms of analyses are also found in literary analysis, philosophy, linguistics, and semiotics. They are particularly suited to unravel and closely examine linguistic or textual claims and the larger discourses in which they are embedded.

De-construction (Method #1) De-construction is a method of critiquing a text. According to Critchley (1992), de-construction is the double-reading of a text. The first reading is called “the dominant interpretation” (p.23). This is how the majority of readers would react and interpret the text. The second reading, however, is quite different. This is a close, critical examination of what the text leaves out, i.e., its blind spots or silences. The quality of the second reading is dependent on a faithful first reading. For the second reading to be valuable, it must rest on a scholarly consensus that the first reading is accurate, that is, a truthful rendering of the majoritarian interpretation. If this condition is met, then the second reading can delve deeply into the essence of that majoritarian interpretation. One of the key understandings is that the “silences” of a text can form an alternative narrative.

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This approach is a time-honored tactic in criticizing a literary text or any text for that matter. If a critic can point out that a text consistently remains silent on a concept, an issue, or an idea, then one can begin to create a de-constructive reading, a different alterity to that dominant interpretation. Critchley (1992) reinforces this perspective when he says “Deconstruction opens a reading by locating a moment of alterity within a text” (p. 28). The other approach to de-construction is to expose hidden binaries within a text. The most famous person associated with this practice was the French philosopher Jacques Derrida (Peeters 2013). De-construction is about poking into a system of meaning as, for example, in the system of structuralism which depends on the use of binary opposites: De-construction . . . has grasped the point that the binary oppositions with which classical structuralism tends to work represent a way of seeing typical of ideologies. Ideologies like to draw rigid boundaries between what is acceptable and what is not, between self and non-self, truth and falsity, sense and nonsense, reason and madness, central and marginal, surface and depth . . . by a certain way of operating on texts—whether ‘literary’ or ‘philosophical’—we may begin to unravel these oppositions a little, demonstrates . . . in order to [show] how one term of an antithesis secretly inheres within the other. (Eagleton 1983, p.133)

Genealogy (Method#2) On the surface genealogy looks like history, indeed genealogy is a special kind of history. “Foucault’s history is the history of the different modes by which, in our culture, human beings are made subjects” (Ball 1991, p. 3). In a traditional historical discourse, the historian creates trends and patterns in connecting people, decisions, events, and outcomes. “Foucault stresses discontinuity, complexity, and circumstance and shows little interest in causality” (Ball 1991, p. 6). Genealogy has been called a kind of “counter history” (Visker 1995, p. 17). Above all Foucault’s genealogy aims at examining relations of power within institutions or classes (Shumway 1992, p. 26). Such relations are an example of “discursive practices” (Johannesson 1998, p. 308). Genealogy is a study of how ideas shift and mutate over time within specific periods of history (Oliver 2010). That is what this essay is about and how ideas and concepts have changed over a period of time within educational administration. In that respect Dreyfus and Rabinow (1983) indicate that “The genealogist is a diagnostician who concentrates on the relations of power, knowledge, and the body in modern society” (p. 105).

Tracking the Trace (Method #3) Tracking the trace is a method of linguistic analysis sometimes located within de-construction (Evans 1991). To fully understand the full meaning of a “trace” is to understand the basis of Saussurean linguistics (Gadet 1986). Briefly, Saussure established that a language consists of an image and a sound which stands for that

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image. Together they form a sign. Signs are arbitrary and they vary from language to language. The meaning of a sign depends on its relationship to other signs. Signs are historically constituted (Derrida 1973). Meaning is never completely revealed in a sign. Meanings shift. Meaning depends not only on what is present but also on what isn’t present. A “trace” is therefore what is not directly present as signs are assembled together. Looking for what is involved in determining meaning in any text is a search for the “trace” (Critchley 1992). In this essay “trace” has been used as an ancillary tactic of working back on sign meaning simply to unlock an array of meanings from the earliest usage to more contemporary times. In this sense it resembles an etymological search. Somewhere in the past, written words fade away. It is clear that once they appeared in writing, it is only an event in which an idea, concept, and actions were in spoken language before they were put to paper, that is, they disappear into speech and Derrida calls speech a form of proto-writing (Evans 1991, p. 125).

Barriers to Social Justice Interventions in Higher Education Preparation Programs Using the three forms of postmodern analyses which have been just reviewed, they will now be applied to the field of educational administration in order to show why social justice interventions have been difficult to implement and will continue to face resistance and/or rejection in higher education preparation programs. Table 1 maps the difficulties of implementing social justice issues in contemporary educational leadership programs. The lateral axes locate social justice issues as to which Foucauldian enunciative fields are involved. The vertical axes illustrates the three methods of postmodern analyses and which ones were used in flushing out a more detailed description of those issues. The table also shows that more than one method of analysis may be employed. Letters have been inserted into the cells, indicating where the barriers to social justice interventions were involved and analyzed. Six barriers follow the table, each discussed in turn (1) a near half-century of textual unresponsiveness to social justice issues; (2) school leaders are agents of Table 1 A postmodern analysis of barriers to social justice issues in higher education leadership preparation programs Foucault’s enunciative field Types of postmodern analysis De-construction Genealogy Tracking the trace

Field of memory A, E

Field of presence B D,C,F

Field of concomitance D,C

C

A School leaders are agents of organizational conservatism; B Social science methods that erase subjectivity and diminish moral choices; C An aversion to emotionality and other nonrational factors in decision-making; D National leadership standards: A troubling legacy; E A field historically dominated by rampant anti-intellectualism

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organizational conservatism; (3) social science methods that erase subjectivity and diminish moral choices; (4) an aversion to emotionality and other nonrational factors in decision-making; (5) a troubling legacy of national leadership standards; and (6) a field historically dominated by rampant anti-intellectualism.

A. A Near Half-Century of Textual Unresponsiveness to Social Justice Issues (Barrier #1) Social justice concepts based on notions that economic inequalities, racism, sexism, sexual orientation, and other inequities, let alone interventions in K-12 preparatory programs in higher education, were slow to be recognized let alone addressed (Anderson 2002). In fact, an examination of the subject matter indices of leading textbooks used in educational administration departments in the USA between the mid-1950s and the mid-2000s does not include a single reference to social justice. The texts examined were Campbell and Gregg 1957; Cunningham and Cordeiro 2000; English 1992; Gorton 1976; Guthrie and Reed 1986; Hack et al. 1971; Haller and Strike 1986; Hanson 1985, 1991; Hoy and Miskel 1982; Kimbrough and Nunnery 1988; Knezevich 1975; Lane et al. 1967; Lunenburg and Ornstein 1991; Miller 1965; Milstein and Belasco 1973; Owens 2001; Owens and Valesky 2007; Razik and Swanson 2010; Sachs 1966; Sergiovanni and Carver 1973; Sergiovanni et al. 2004; Silver 1983; Stoops and Rafferty Jr. 1961; Yukl 1981. One does not begin to see social justice concerns surface until the first decade of the twenty-first century (Marshall and Oliva 2006; English 2008a; Wang 2018). The shift also then begins to impact mainstream texts. For example, in the eighth edition of School Leadership and Administration by Richard Gorton and Judy Alston (Gorton and Alston 2009), the first inclusion of social justice appears in the index with such examples as “ability grouping, busing, disabled students, gay-straight alliance, metropolitan integration, multicultural climate, racial disparity, racially motivated fight, special needs students, total integration . . .” (p. 427). When the first edition of the ISLLC standards was released in 1996, there was no mention of social justice or any of the major concerns which undergird a concern for social justice today (Hoyle 2006). The absence of attention to an interest in social justice or social justice interventions is similarly noted in the 1999 Second Handbook of Research on Educational Administration indices (Murphy and Louis 1999) with a similar and silent lacuna. Even now the topic and related issues remain controversial, especially outside the immediate academic community (English 2008b). A prime example of how social justice can be viewed as nothing but a leftist plot to politicize the university curriculum is David Horowitz’s 2006 inflammatory book The Professors: The 101 Most Dangerous Academics in America. Horowitz claimed that the “tenured radicals” of the 1970s took over the university and They rejected the concept of the university as the temple of the intellect, in which they described a curriculum insulated from the political passions of the times. Instead, these

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radicals were intent on making the university ‘relevant’ to current events, and to their own partisan agendas. Accordingly, they set about re-shaping the university curriculum to support their political interests, which appeared in their own minds as grandiose crusades for ‘social justice.’ (p. x)

Horowitz (2006) expanded his view of the expansion of radical thought by describing the proliferation of radical ideas “to ‘serve’ minority groups previously neglected” (p. x), and the new agendas included “Cultural studies, peace studies, whiteness studies, post-colonial studies, and global studies—even social justice studies” (p. x). These kinds of broadsides are unfortunately part and parcel of the contemporary political landscape in higher education.

B. School Leaders Are Agents of Organizational Conservatism (Barrier #2) Although there is much rhetoric regarding school leaders becoming agents of radical change, there is scant evidence that they become so, let alone turn into social activists in or outside of their school or school system boundaries. Dunham (1964) offers a cogent explanation as to the reason. The first task of any organization’s leadership is to develop, maintain, and advance its unity. Unity is usually constructed around what Dunham labels its “orthodoxy” or around certain tenets or beliefs. It doesn’t matter if those beliefs are true or false. Without a sanctioned set of beliefs or principles to bind its members together, the organization risks dissolution. No leader can permit organizational dissolution. It is therefore part of the strategy of leadership and part of the politics of organizational life to regard doctrines not merely as true or false but as conducive to unity or disruptive of it. . .a doctrine is orthodox if it helps unite the organization; it is heretical if it divides. (Dunham 1964, p. 18)

Dunham (1964) observes that innovators posture themselves as in the pursuit of truth, justice, or some other high-ground social causes. If any specific innovation is seen as threatening the unity of the organization, it is viewed as heretical no matter its ultimate goodness. However, from the outside looking in if “. . . the apparent motive of the leaders is organizational unity, the tenor of their conduct, whether right or wrong, seems rigid and reactionary” (p. 19). Even modest interventions can lead to serious disruption and political reverberations that can threaten organizational unity. For example, in March of 2020, New York City Schools Chancellor Richard A. Carranza faced outraged and vocal Asian-American parents when he proposed to change admission standards to bring about higher levels of enrollment in the city’s top high schools from Black and Hispanic students. Part of that effort involved getting rid of the admission tests for the top high schools. If adopted, “Asian students make up a majority of the schools and would lose about half their seats under the city’s proposal” (Shapiro 2020, p. A25).

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The chancellor’s efforts to push for the elimination of inequality in one direction resulted in a counter push from a group of parents who also felt the sting of inequality in another. Asian parents have also aligned themselves with some groups of white parents who fear that the integration of the system’s gifted and talented schools, already 75% comprised of Asian and white students, would be penalized with a loss of access. As some groups met they chanted “Fire Carranza” (Shapiro 2020, A25). In a strange case of reversal, the use of the word “integration,” a longheld social justice idea of racial equality, has become a symbol of anti-inequality for one group of minority students. At the same time without changes in parental sentiments, “integration” could become a force of disunity and polarization for the entire school system, not to mention the loss of the incumbent chancellor who is the point person on this initiative. Social justice issues in the schools are not scientific ones. They are moral ones. And Hodgkinson (1991) reminds us that “. . . any administrator, is faced with value choices. To govern is to choose . . . Each day and each hour provides the occasion for value judgments, and each choice has a determining effect on the value options for the future” (p. 93). The importance of emphasizing what has been called “the moral imperative” of the equity work of educational leadership was underscored by Niesche and Keddie (2016) when they said “It is clear that the norms and values of leadership shape the way schools approach issues of equity that can, in turn, generate transformative political effects” (p. 3).

C. Social Science Methods that Erase Subjectivity and Diminish Moral Choices (Barrier #3) A second reason that social justice issues have been erased or neglected in the past has been the field’s long-standing infatuation with traditional social science methods, specifically a search for a theory of educational administration that was rooted in the here and now. Near the end of his life, Jack Culbertson (1995), one of the founders of the UCEA, ruminated about the beginning of the “theory movement” of the 1950s. In reminiscing about the influential scholars and their thinking 70 years earlier, he commented about the most influential scholars of that period. Among them was the psychologist Andrew Halpin (1960) who railed against the insertions of values into research regarding educational administration and observed that “. . . there does not exist today, either in education or in industry, a single well-developed theory of administration that is worth getting excited about” (p. 5). Halpin (1960) was imbued with the doctrine of logical positivism as advanced by the infamous Vienna Circle philosophers (1922–1938) who struggled to define a theory of analysis that excluded metaphysics and created a border between science and nonscience, especially as it dealt with so-called “unobservables” in empirical contexts such as mental, spiritual, or emotional states (Uebel 1999). Halpin heaped scorn on the educational administration curriculum of the time as consisting: of maxims, exhortations, and several innocuous variations on the theme of the Golden Rule. The material was speculative rather than theoretical in the true sense of the term, empirical

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research on administration was slighted, and contributions from the behavioral sciences and personnel research in industry were zealously ignored. (p. 4)

According to Culbertson (1995), Halpin “made clear that ‘ought’ statements reside outside science” and that “Theory must be concerned with how the superintendent does behave, not with someone’s opinion of how he ought to behave” (p. 41). Another expert outside of educational administration was James D. Thompson (1967) who, echoing Halpin, wrote “The values capable of being attached to education and to administration will not be incorporated into the theoretical system itself; instead, the system will treat such values as variables” (p. 31). While Halpin (1967) was correct that values are not scientific, his insistence on their elimination from the nature of administration made their exclusion rational and justifiable. They were written off as inappropriate arenas for conducting “scientific research” or including them in the leading textbooks of the time for at least five decades. Foster (1986) summarized one of the consequences of this approach when he wrote “The administration of education is perhaps one of society’s most central concerns; yet when administrative programs neglect social analyses, they neglect the possibility of choosing a more attractive future” (p. 10). It is ironic that even at the time of the theory movement, there was criticism of the sole reliance on social science methods in the field of educational administration. Roald Campbell with co-authors W.W. Charters and William Gregg (1960) commented that: Now I would submit that the findings of social science are of no help to the school administrator, and that they cannot be applied directly and immediately to his (sic) world. They cannot be useful in his(sic) prediction problem because of their very nature . . . One reason is that the social scientist’s findings do not always hold true. In the present state of the field, about all the social scientist can say is that the finding is more often right than wrong . . . More importantly, research findings are of no help to the administrator because they deal with too small a slice of the administrator’s complex milieu. He can assume that other things are equal only at his (sic) peril. (p. 178)

Interesting enough there are now renewed calls for improved theory as an antidote to the lacunae of social justice matters in educational leadership: The equity work of school leaders in the contemporary educational environment is incredibly complex, challenging and demanding. While the number of studies exploring these issues has increased in recent times, we feel there needs to be a richer theoretical engagement, focus and depth to capture this complexity. (Niesche and Keddie 2016, p. 3)

D. An Aversion to Emotionality and Other Nonrational Factors in Decision-Making (Barrier #4) The wellspring of social justice issues is found in religion, not science, specifically in the nineteenth-century Protestant social gospel movement and similarly in the Catholic Church’s plea for it as well (Shoho et al. 2005). The penchant of the early founders of educational administration was grounded in Frederick Taylor’s

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“scientific management” ideology. In this perspective there was no room for subjectivity or emotion (Callahan 1962) though in reality a trenchant de-construction of Taylor’s work and his life reveals the presence of both (Kanigel 1997). Despite the observation of presidential historian James Barber (1985) that “Every story of Presidential decision-making is really two stories: an outer one in which a rational man calculates and an inner once in which an emotional man feels. The two are forever connected. Any real President is one whole man and his deeds reflect his wholeness” (p. 4), preparation programs for educational leadership have precious little to say or do with emotion. In fact, elements of leadership that are dependent on emotion, intuition, caring, and compassion are seldom dealt with only marginally or not at all in the curriculum of higher educational preparatory programs. There are several reasons for this state of affairs. First, “emotions have historically been treated as individual psychological manifestations premised upon a rational/emotional binary, and second, one of the most evident is the privileging of rational (equated to masculine) leadership in education” (Blackmore 2009, p. 110). A decision-maker becoming “emotional” was seen as a sign of weakness and a hallmark of females involved with having to make “tough decisions.” For this reason university-based graduate preparation programs set quotas for the admission of women fearing that the field would become over-feminized (Blount 1998). In addition, the heavy emphasis in educational administration course work on behavioral and structural texts proffered from a so-called “scientific underpinning” and at present from the world of business is heavily gender-biased against women. Sexism is built into the course content of programs of preparing school administrators because “Masculine dominance in educational leadership is part of wider social ‘relations of ruling’ premised upon the ‘gender order’ in politics, economics, religion, the media and sport” (Blackmore 2016, p. 65). The barriers against women in school administration were not legally erased in the USA until the passage of Title IX in 1972. However, course content remains heavily tilted towards post-positivist perspectives and white masculinism, even as many graduate degree programs are more evenly balanced now by female students and role incumbents, except in the very top-level executive positions (Blackmore 2016). Second-wave feminists have also worked not only to address the historic lack of gender balance in leadership roles but: to redefine how leadership is understood and practiced. For feminists, leadership is about accessing the power, resources and authority with the purpose of re/defining knowledge and promoting inclusivity through gender equity reform. Feminists relational view of leadership has always been oriented towards the moral and ethical purpose of social justice. (Blackmore 2016, p. 67)

The link between social justice issues and emotion in decision-making has become more important as circumstances produce “tough decisions” (Johnson Jr. and Kruse 2009) or sometimes referred to as “wicked problems” (DeGrace and Stahl 1990). These types of decisions are characterized by ambiguity and lack of definable borders because ends and beginnings are unclear. Decision-makers often don’t

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know where to start in addressing them. The decision-making moment is usually accompanied with partisan overtones, confrontation, and conflict between participants. They are also crisscrossed with value conflicts. One experienced college dean called them problems where it was “right versus right.” By that he meant that both sides had a “rightful” logical and defensible position. This situation often presents itself in cases where the rights of the individual are at odds with the rights of the collective or group. An example of a “tough or wicked decision” which was highly emotional, controversial, partisan, and charged with social justice issues was the occasion when in 2017 new U.S. Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos announced a recalibration of the rules concerning sexual assault and misconduct hearings on college and universities under Title IX, the law that bars sexual discrimination. The Obama administration had issued a letter laying out new guidelines for how students accused of sexual assault could be prosecuted by campus tribunals. What those guidelines contained were instructions for “universities to adjudicate claims of sexual misconduct using the law ‘preponderance of the evidence’ standard, in which the mere 50.1% likelihood of guilt is sufficient” (Silvergate 2017, p. A19). At the heart of the controversy was the matter of not only insuring “due process” in which cross-examination of witnesses was at stake for the accused but women’s groups have long argued that such procedures frighten many women from coming forward when they have been victims of sexual assault. Critics of Mrs. DeVos’ recession of the Obama guidelines aver that this action “has had a chilling effect on victims who are reluctant to report assaults” (Green 2018). The lower bar of evidence in the Obama guidelines gave women’s complaints greater weight and seemed to even up the judicial process by denying the defendants’ rights and processes they would have enjoyed in a regular court hearing. However, the new guidelines appeared to others, including professors of law at Harvard and other prestigious law schools as well as several federal court judges and the American Council of Trial Lawyers, to deny a defendant the right to confront and cross-examine his accuser, be offered the presumption of innocence until proven guilty, the right to legal representation, and the right to appeal under the Obama guidelines, were an overreach (Johnson and Taylor Jr. 2017). The Title IX controversy was not only a social justice issue of the most basic type but one in which the usual rules regarding decision-making being a mostly rational and logical process were laid bare as unhelpful. A logical and rational case can be made for both positions in incidents of alleged campus sexual assaults. While problem-solving in graduate courses in educational administration and leadership may be taught separately or within a variety of other courses, historically it is largely confined to forms of analysis dominated by economic and business decision-making models such as those proffered by Herbert Simon (1976) whose “normative theory of decision-making seeks to explain decisions from the perspective of the omniscient decision maker and how decisions should be made” (Johnson Jr. and Kruse 2009, p. 27). The other aspect of decision-making is the avoidance of using subjectivity at all by “appealing to economics, the most formal and quantitatively successful of the social sciences, and specifically to the concept of expected utility as a way to unify a theory of economic behavior” (Bohman 1992, p. 209).

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Such normative approaches to decision-making have relegated emotion to an undesirable element of the process which has to be carefully monitored so as to avoid unwarranted seat-of-the-pants determinations based on the whim of the moment. Recently there has been a rise in reinserting emotion into decision-making with the work of Goleman’s (1995) popular text Emotional Intelligence. In a trenchant analysis of Goleman’s EI work, Lakomski (2015) labels it “. . . a colloquial expression without explanatory force” (p. 73) because it perpetuates the idea that emotion and cognition are separate entities, bares all of the hallmarks of positivistic science, trades on common-sense notions of emotion, and bears little resemblance to “scientific explanations . . . currently developed in both emotion science and affective neuroscience” (p. 73). She then points out that scientific explanations move to “recast emotions in terms of dynamical systems theory that is biologically realistic, coheres with our currently best knowledge of brain function and architecture, and is able to account for emotions’ variability, contextdependence, and time boundedness” (p. 73). It seems that for the emotional component of much of the social justice agenda to become interdependent with leadership preparation in the formal curricula of most higher educational programs, an expanded perspective on the role of emotion in decision-making will be required. That would also require a different type of training for the professors involved as well, many of whom are likely to have little knowledge of contemporary neuroscience.

E. National Leadership Standards: A Troubling Legacy (Barrier #5) The creation of the national educational leadership standards was begun in the USA in the 1994–1995 academic year and was the project of the Council of Chief State School Officers (CCSSO) and the National Policy Board for Educational Administration (NPBEA). According to Neil Shipman (2006), one of the national leaders who worked to establish the standards, there were six principles upon which they were grounded. The standards should do the following: • • • • • •

Reflect the centrality of student learning. Acknowledge the changing role of the school leader. Recognize the collaborative nature of school leadership. Be high, upgrading the quality of the profession. Inform standards-based systems of assessment and evaluation for school leaders. Be integrated and coherent (p. 525).

A close examination of these six principles shows that none were based on promoting social justice and they were all focused on what is internal to school or institutional operations. The principles are centered on advancing and promoting the school leader in the name of student success, and are about legitimizing the role of the school leader and underscoring their importance and centrality in schools in which their roles are located. Similarly, Bourdieu had observed that reforms almost

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always benefit the reformers and that they would not advocate for changes which would diminish their importance or role in that change (English and Bolton 2016, pp. 107–108). The six standards for school leaders were promulgated as follows. A school leader promotes the success of all students by: • Facilitating the development, articulation, implementation, and stewardship of a vision of learning that I shared and supported by the school community • Advocating, nurturing, and sustaining a school culture and instructional program conducive to student learning and staff professional growth • Ensuring management of the organization, operations, and resources for a safe, efficient, and effective learning environment • Collaborating with families and community members, responding to diverse community interests and needs, and mobilizing community resources • Acting with integrity, fairness, and in an ethical manner • Understanding, responding to, and influencing the larger political, social, economic, legal, and cultural context (Shipman 2006, pp. 525–526) These standards are devoid of any reference to or appreciation of the diversity that is within many American schools and school districts. Ikpa (1995) highlights why this is so by saying: . . . in their quest for an appropriate knowledge base, reformers have failed to consider the impact of gender, ethnicity and race . . . Scholars and researchers must come to the realization that the dominant philosophy of logical positivism enveloping the departments of educational leadership cannot incorporate diversities relevant to gender, race and ethnicity. (p. 175)

Ikpa (1995) further notes that the major problem with positivism is that it eliminates “reflective and dialectical thought and allows the perpetuation of an extant social order” (p. 176). The type of knowledge that is in alignment with the doctrine of positivism is what Anderson and Page (1995) have labeled “technical knowledge” (p. 130). It is the kind of knowledge that is about the “doing” of administering schools, from getting the heating system fixed to creating a specific type of school culture or fashioning a vision about learning to which school operations are then to embody. The problem of this type of knowledge is that it “uncritically promotes the legitimating myths that reproduce our schools and our society from one generation to the next” (Anderson and Page 1995, p. 130).This is the political function of the standards, i.e., they become the platform upon which the current structure and function of public schooling is perpetuated with the same people in control of them as before but with this new manifesto a reinforced social power sanctioned to do so. By not differentiating among the learners to be served, the differences among learners, including race, social class, and gender which include huge existing inequalities, are ignored. They are simply passed over and survive intact. The maxim is “If we don’t name the differences, we don’t have to deal

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with them.” Social justice work is about understanding the differences that advantage some and disadvantage others due to how the system works. The deepest social justice problems arise when they are part and parcel of system functions, whether intentional or not. What that means is that while achievement inequalities may exist among learners, they cannot be due to race, social class, or gender, especially in an institution which portends to treat them all fairly and without bias towards their race, social class, or gender. The new iterations of the national leadership standards contain some of the same blind spots and emphasis on technical rationality as the original. In the statement of context for the NELP standards on which accreditation rests, the document indicates what has changed to provoke revisions. The reasons are the following: • • • • • • • •

Globalization Economic transformation Technological advances The changing conditions and characteristics of children The politics of leadership and changes in leadership personnel Reductions in school funding Competitive market pressures Higher levels of accountability for student achievement (NPBEA 2018, p. 1)

There is nothing in these changes that would directly confront historic and longstanding issues of continuing racial prejudice in schools and communities, the chronic underfunding of inner city and/or rural schools, and the lack of equal educational opportunities of all students regardless of postal zone addresses. Here are all of the leadership standards: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Mission, vision, and improvement Ethics and professional norms Equity and cultural responsiveness Curriculum, instruction, and assessment Community of care and support for students Professional capacity of school personnel Professional community for teachers and staff Meaningful engagement of families and community Operations and management School improvement (NPBEA 2018, p. 2)

Standard 3 includes three components which involve concerns regarding social justice when it stipulates that “program completers” (i.e., graduates in preparation programs) (1) understand and demonstrate the capacity to use data to evaluate, design, cultivate, and advocate for a supportive and inclusive school culture; (2) understand and demonstrate the capacity to evaluate, cultivate, and advocate for equitable access to educational resources, technologies, and opportunities that support the educational

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success and well-being of each student; and (3) understand and demonstrate the capacity to evaluate, advocate, and cultivate equitable, inclusive, and culturally responsive instruction and behavioral support practices among teachers and staff. Some of the skills required to reveal their mastery of these leadership components are the following: 1. Use research and data to design and cultivate a supportive, nurturing, and inclusive school culture. 2. Develop strategies for improving school culture. 3. Evaluate sources of inequality and bias in the allocation of educational resources and opportunities. 4. Cultivate the equitable use of educational resources and opportunities through procedures, guidelines, norms, and values. 5. Advocate for the equitable access to educational resources, procedures, and opportunities. 6. Evaluate root causes of inequity and bias. 7. Develop school policies or procedures that cultivate equitable, inclusive, and culturally responsive practice among teachers and staff (NPBEA 2018, pp. 16–17). A casual review of the remainder of the standards and components does not reveal any further direct actions that a school leader would take to confront social justice issues, and when the opportunity arises for such a leader to do so, they fail to outline an activist leader in the school’s community to address them. For example, in the standard involving working with diverse families in strengthening student learning in and out of schools, the school leader only has to gather information, cultivate collaboration, foster two-way communication, identify community resources, develop a plan for accessing resources, and become an advocate “for school and community needs” (NPBEA 2018, p. 23). None of these would require drastic action, confrontation or intervention, radical, or otherwise. There is little in these new standards that would suggest that the role of the administrator in school sites or school system central offices required anything but the continued place for a powerful and socially omniscient “leader” to preside over their operations. Standards for school leaders rest on the assumption that such leaders are always required. This is the tautology that prompted this paper’s claim in the beginning.

F. A Field Historically Dominated by Rampant Anti-intellectualism (Barrier #6) Another feature of the field of educational administration in higher education is its rampant “anti-intellectualism.” This characteristic is described as “a suspicion of intellect itself . . . it is part of the extensive American devotion to practicality and

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direct experience which ramifies through almost every area of American life . . . Practical vigor is a virtue; what has been spiritually crippling in our history . . . is the tendency to make a mystique of practicality” (Hofstadter 1964, pp. 236–237). A hallmark term that captures this posture is calling students and the faculty who are engaged in preparing future school leaders “scholar-practitioners.” Born (1996) criticizes this term as an example of the anti-intellectualism which often constitutes school leadership studies and extends his criticism of it by saying: . . . the hyphenated term (scholar-practitioner) implicitly announces that the emerging discipline transcends the academy precisely because it is more than mere scholarship; it is scholarship plus. In other words, the new discipline is more practical, or in the vernacular of the sixties, of greater ‘relevance.’ (p. 47)

All of these traditions make intervention in preparation programs regarding social justice or anything else that is not immediately skill-based and behaviorally observable, extremely difficult. The obstacles regnant within the higher education context are often not acknowledged. Certainly the “blind spots” by professors and students themselves to their own biases, their insistence that “hands-on learning” is superior than intellectual rigor creates a climate opposed to serious academic studies. Born (1996) summarizes this situation: . . . for leadership programs to fulfill their often hyperbolic claims, what is needed is more and better scholarship, not less, and higher standards of textual proficiency rather than more community-volunteer hours. (p. 48)

Intervening in the world of educational leadership preparation programs for any reason is the equivalent of broaching the famed French Maginot line of World War II. While professors usually consider themselves open-minded, the continuation of research models and procedures which block out nonmeasurable aspects of leadership, the resistance to consider alternative perspectives lodged in the arts and humanities, and the domination of educational licensing standards on courses and curricula firmly anchored in functions and skills all but obliterate the full panoply of the leadership quotient (English and Ehrich 2015). It is into this scenario that attention to social justice must find room for full expression. It is a formidable undertaking because as Hodgkinson (1991) observes “By and large administrators and those who write about administration are not trained in the techniques of modern philosophical analysis nor, again by and large, can they be said to be particularly amenable to philosophical or abstract or ‘intellectual’ interests . . .” (p. 49). Nearly a half-century ago, Roald Campbell and colleagues W.W. Charters and William Gregg (1960), three of the founders of the “theory movement” in educational administration, contrasted the world of the researcher scientist and the world of the practitioner and remarked that they: . . . live, think, and work in two utterly different, if not alien, worlds. The scientist’s world is a world of concepts, abstractions, and generalizations. . .The scientist’s theories give rise to

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prediction about tiny pieces of reality. . . The administrator’s world is quite the reverse. It is the complex, baffling world of the here and now. It is the unique, concrete situation, with its own history and tradition, and its own cast of idiosyncratic characters. (pp. 176-177)

Campbell et al. (1960) then summarized this difference by indicating that the value to the practitioner was found in “. . . providing him (sic) with concepts. The concepts of and theories of social science afford the man of practical affairs alternative ways of viewing the world around him (sic)” (p. 179). Concepts were simply different glasses with which to view problems and issues and to proceed to problem-solve accordingly. The advice and observation of these three pioneers has been lost in today’s milieu of skill-based practicums and textbooks that are packaged cookbooks of varying recipes for issues and problems when they wrote “The administrator will best be trained not in the meager technology drawn from research findings but in the new and varying perspectives offered by social science concepts” (p. 180).

Conclusion Given the fact that educational leadership programs are situated within an apparatus of interlocking agencies and institutions such as state departments of education, federal and state laws, accreditation agencies, and professional associations, in addition to the prevailing and generally accepted ways of thinking about the field, roles within the field, and functions within jobs, it is not likely that social justice interventions of any radical nature are going to be initiated in higher educational preparation programs. Higher education programs are interdependent and not independent entities. The barriers to radical change serve to fashion the teaching of leadership to the social status quo and ensure that the leadership of today will be about the same as the leadership of tomorrow. It is a temporal tautology because one is the other.

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Transforming Schools Implementing Transformative Leadership to Enhance Equity and Social Justice Carolyn M. Shields

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Purpose and Overview of the Chapter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Clarifying Terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Transformative Leadership Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Overview of TLT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Evolution of Transformative Leadership Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implementing Transformative Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Community High School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Exemplifying the Principles and Tenets of TLT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guiding Practical Interventions with Transformative Leadership Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter elucidates the role of transformative leadership theory (TLT) in providing the impetus and guidance for transforming schools to be inclusive, equitable, excellent, and socially just. The first section describes the origins, premises, and tenets of transformative leadership theory. Then, using a lengthy vignette from a small American high school, the chapter demonstrates how a school leader, guided by TLT, has actually implemented transformative interventions. A closer examination of the principles and tenets of transformative leadership theory demonstrate the role of a critical, normative, and transformative theory in overcoming historical norms of hegemony and dominance that continue to advantage some and marginalize others. The conclusion posits that C. M. Shields (*) Department of Administrative and Organizational Studies, College of Education, Wayne State University, Detroit, MI, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_68

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transformative leadership theory offers a comprehensive, yet flexible, approach to action that can lead to transformation in multiple contexts. Keywords

Action · Equity · Inclusion · Mindset · Social justice · Transformative leadership

Introduction The need to transform schools and schooling has perhaps never been more pressing, as schools worldwide face challenges related to facilities, finances, personnel, and to global crises resulting in human relocation, increasing diversity, electronic delivery systems, and so forth. Many of the current challenges have highlighted inequities that have long existed in school systems throughout the world, and the need to provide students with more socially just, inclusive, and equitable learning environments. Some of the inequities are a result of consistent economic disparities. Some are a consequence of persistent and systemic racism and the horrific legacy of slavery. Others arise from beliefs like xenophobia or homophobia that leave many students feeling unsafe and disrespected. In many developed countries (e.g., Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States), inequities pertain to the hegemony of colonization and its impact on the education of indigenous children and youth. Regardless of the explanation, too often, students from minoritized groups are marginalized, excluded, and even oppressed by common educational beliefs and assumptions, policies, and practices. Moreover, as Foster (1983) noted, the theories that educational leaders draw on are inadequate to help them “handle the myriad duties and details of everyday schooling” (p. 1). He went on to argue that this is likely because the “paradigm within which theory and research is developed may be bankrupt” (p. 2). To rectify this, he posits the need for a new approach, one that eschews the functionalist model and the quest of natural sciences for universal laws, and instead, takes “a critical stance itself located in an alternative paradigm, namely, a radicalized political economy framework” (p. 6). This new approach, Foster asserted, would “allow for the possibility of leadership as transformative action” (p. 18). This is the kind of leadership described in this chapter.

Purpose and Overview of the Chapter When educators attempt to institute educational reform to redress inequities, one frequently hears the terms transformational, transformative, social justice, or equity, as these are the words generally used to describe theories that may help to promote deep changes in the structures and cultures of schooling. Because I believe in the veracity of Kurt Lewin’s maxim that “there is nothing so practical as a good theory” (1951), this chapter clarifies transformative leadership theory (TLT), a theory that

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holds considerable promise for guiding educators as they implement strategies to promote equity, inclusion, excellence, and social justice in schools. The first section elucidates the origins, premises, and tenets of transformative leadership theory (Astin and Astin 2000; Quantz et al. 1991; Shields 2010, 2016, 2020; Weiner 2003). Then, by using a lengthy vignette from a small American high school, this chapter demonstrates how school leaders, guided by TLT, have actually implemented transformative interventions. The chapter concludes by further discussing the role of transformative leadership – a critical, normative, and transformative theory – in guiding action to transform education in multiple contexts.

Clarifying Terms Before moving to the details of transformative leadership theory itself, it is important to clarify the key terms to be used here, in that there is often considerable confusion about the meaning and use of words like equity or social justice. Earlier, the term minoritized was used. This term indicates that a group, regardless of whether or not they are in the numerical majority, has been marginalized due to exclusionary practices related to the inequitable distribution of power, often, but not always, related to colonialism. Social justice has been so debated and contested by those holding quite different ideologies that it sometimes seems to mean everything and nothing. One could argue the need to apply discipline or grading policies in a uniform way in the name of social justice, hence any student who “fights” might be justifiably suspended. On the other hand, arguing that a LGBTQ2+ student who lashes out after weeks of being teased and bullied is less “guilty” than those who have been responsible for the bullying and, hence, that a different approach may be warranted, could also be considered to be just. Social justice as used here implies countering “injustice” through appropriate measures, rather than simply treating everyone the same. I also distinguish between an education that is not only socially just, offering equitable opportunities for success to all students, and an education one might call a “social-justice education” that promotes social justice through an understanding of privilege, power, and hegemony and works to challenge and change the status quo. It is this latter focus that has the potential for meaningful transformation of schooling. Equity (offering differential support to students to effect similar outcomes) is often confounded with equality (offering similar supports to all students). Hence, it is important for educators to acknowledge that some students need more or less time, more or fewer supports, and sometimes differential strategies in order for all to reach the desired learning outcomes. After all, we do not require all students to wear glasses if a few students have visual impairments, nor do we require all to have hearing assist devices if one child has a hearing loss. Similarly, children who come from impoverished homes, or who do not speak the language of instruction at home, or whose religious practices require specific circumstances, may need different supports and resources to experience a transformative and equitable education.

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Inclusion, therefore, is one outcome of an equitable and socially just education in which all children are treated and taught appropriately in order for them to feel welcome, respected, and fully able to participate in all of the activities of the school. Sometimes the term is used to describe a strategy in which students with unique needs are educated in the least restrictive environment their condition warrants, but based on this definition, it is much more than a strategy for those with individual education plans. Finally, excellent refers to the fulfillment of the school’s mission to fully educate all students. It is much more than test scores. Excellence includes achieving goals related to academic achievement and personal learning as well as goals related to the development of citizenship and global awareness. An excellent education teaches “one to think intensively and to think critically. [. . .] Intelligence plus character – that is the goal of true education” (King 1947/1992). Further an excellent education provides the tools to fulfill Nelson Mandela’s dictum that “education is the most powerful weapon which we can use to change the world” (1990). But for these outcomes to be achieved, schools must educate all children regardless of their background or home situation.

Transformative Leadership Theory In general, a theory identifies variables that may be manipulated to effect different outcomes. Bradford (2017) asserts that the University of California, Berkley, defines a theory as “a broad, natural explanation for a wide range of phenomena. Theories are concise, coherent, systematic, predictive, and broadly applicable, often integrating and generalizing many hypotheses.”

Overview of TLT For transformative leadership theory, Shields (2016) has identified two general hypothesis, principles, or explanations that, drawing on the definitions above, may help educators to identify interventions that will promote more equitable and socially just education for all. The first principle is that when a person feels respected, included, and valued, it is easier to concentrate on their assigned task and the work will be more successfully completed. In education, therefore, this implies that if a student is worried about where his next meal will come from, whether her family has been threatened or removed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement Officials (ICE), or whether they will be teased or bullied because of their accent, their clothes, or their gender identity, it will be difficult to concentrate on the learning at hand. Conversely, if a student (or teacher) feels welcome, respected, and included, it is easier to be fully present in the learning activity, with the concomitant outcome that achievement, even test scores, will improve. The second principle is that when the good of individual achievement is balanced with the value of public good, democratic society as a whole is strengthened. In education, therefore, when a focus on academic achievement is balanced with a

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focus on civic engagement, social responsibility, and deep democracy, students learn about, and practice, the importance of collective action and support for one another, and civic responsibility is expanded. To guide the implementation of TLT, Shields (2016) has also identified the following eight tenets supported by international scholarship on transformative leadership. • The mandate to effect deep and equitable change • The need to deconstruct and reconstruct knowledge frameworks that perpetuate inequity and injustice • The need to address the inequitable distribution of power • An emphasis on both private and public (individual and collective) good • A focus on emancipation, democracy, equity, and justice • An emphasis on interdependence, interconnectedness, and global awareness • The necessity of balancing critique with promise • The call to exhibit moral courage (Shields, pp. 20–21) It is important to note that this is not Shields theory. As Greenfield (1980) asserted about the nature of his work, [It] is a matter of record. What others have said I have tried to acknowledge in my writings. [. . .] the ideas I expound are dependent upon others and upon a long-standing tradition of scholarship and philosophy. [. . .] It is not my school. It is not my theory [. . .]. I have been speaking for the better part of a decade on behalf of other voices and will do so now again. They are voices—some contemporary, some historic, and some ancient—of those who are the foundational thinkers. (p. 27)

Similarly, for the better part of three decades on behalf of others who have also advocated transformative leadership as a way forward, I (Shields) have worked to articulate and promote an understanding of TLT.

Evolution of Transformative Leadership Theory In the 1970s, transformative leadership theory emerged from two distinct influences. The first, and the most commonly cited origin, was James McGregor Burn’s (1978) book Leadership in which he discussed the theories of transactional and transforming leadership. (He did not use the term transformative.) From his concept of transforming leadership have emerged the two conceptually distinct, but often practically confused, theories of transformational and transformative leadership. Transformational leadership focuses largely on organizational effectiveness but is often confounded with transformative leadership which has a primary focus on equity, inclusion, excellence, and justice. The focus of the former tends to be practices that “convert followers to disciples . . ., increase their awareness and consciousness of what is really important, and move them to go beyond their own self-interest for the good of the larger entities to which they belong” (Bass 1985, p. 467).

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In contrast, transformative leadership “begins with questions of justice and democracy; it critiques inequitable practices and offers the promise not only of greater individual achievement but of a better life lived in common with others” (Shields 2010, p. 26) and, hence, is fundamentally critical and activist in its orientation. The distinction is subtle but extremely important. While transformational leadership relies on what might be called process values, transformative leadership relies on core values which suggest a direction for action. When Burns (1978) described the leadership approach he favored, he argued for a leadership revolution, saying that “revolution is a complete and pervasive transformation of an entire social system” (p. 202). He then emphasized the need for “real change – that is, a transformation to the marked degree in the attitudes, norms, institutions, and behaviors that structure our daily lives” (p. 414). In 2003, Burns also called for leadership that would constitute a revolution that requires complete and pervasive transformation of the conditions that leave “billions of the world’s people in the direst want” (p. 2). In both volumes, Burns clearly distinguished between change, which may be temporary and even reversible, and transformation, which is complete, radical, and nonreversible, as when a butterfly emerges from a cocoon. These calls for revolution, for a theory that would include attitudes and norms and not simply practices, and for an emphasis on redressing the conditions of those in the most severe need, all suggest that his notion of transforming leadership is closer to that of transformative leadership than to transformational leadership. Moreover, Burns’ approach is consistent with Foster’s (1989) assertion that “if our society is to succeed, nothing short of a revolution is needed in our schools” (p. 5). The second influence from the 1970s that supports an understanding of TLT as critical and revolutionary is the work of Brazilian Paulo Freire (1970) who argued for “transforming action: that creates ‘a new situation, one which makes possible the pursuit of a fuller humanity’” (Freire and Macedo 2000, p. 48). Freire argued that “the concrete situation which begets oppression must be transformed” (p. 51). Later, Miller et al. (2011) asserted that the work and career of Freire must be considered “when developing a theory of transformative leadership” in that it “offers a geography of leadership within the terrain of democratic struggle” (p. 91). In the next three decades, a number of authors wrote about transformative leadership, with Foster (1989) arguing the need for education administration “to be thought of as a critical practice and as a moral practice, reflecting on the social conditions of institutions in this society” (p. 6). Foster emphasized what he called a “very different formulation” of leadership – “the idea of leadership as transformation, as concern for social justice” (p. 6), and drew on Burns’ work, saying it “sets the stage for reconceptualizing leadership as a transformative, critical, and emancipatory practice” (p. 14). A few years later, Quantz et al. (1991) asserted that (American) “schools are in a period of confusion” (p. 96) with attacks and a crisis of legitimacy coming from many sources. They went on to state their belief that “of the commonly discussed theories, only the concept of transformative leadership appears to provide an appropriate direction” (p. 96), although they also posited the need for “critical interpretation” of the theory.

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In the intervening years and especially in the first decades of the twenty-first century, a number of scholars have provided critical interpretation and clarification of TLT (see, for example, Blackmore 2011; Cooper 2009; Dantley 2005; Starratt 1991, 2011). Some have expanded the theory of TLT, emphasizing the importance of Mezirow’s (1991, 1996) concept of transformative learning that has the potential to effect change in one’s frame of reference through self-reflection and challenging one’s own thinking. Cooper (2009) integrated the concept of “cultural work” required to transform schools. Dantley (2005) incorporated the notion of critical spirituality into the theory. Some in business have articulated a transformative leadership theory that attempts to rectify the continued reliance on “traditional leadership models that often are ineffective” (Caldwell et al. 2011, p. 175). They posited a new model of leadership, transformative leadership, which integrates ethical mandates, behavioral assumptions, and standards of excellence which are fundamental requirements for the effective governance of organizations. [. . .] Transformative leaders seek new solutions that require people to rethink their assumptions, rather than simply returning to old solutions to resolve new problems. (p. 176)

Consistent with the intent of this handbook to focus on intervention, Caldwell et al. (2011) cited the work of Bennis and Nanus (2007) who “suggested that transformative leadership is ‘the capacity to translate intention into reality and sustain it’” (p. 176). This assertion of the need to translate intention into reality is consistent with Weiner’s (2003) definition of transformative leadership “as an exercise of power and authority that begins with questions of justice, democracy, and the dialectic between individual accountability and social responsibility” (p. 89). Weiner then stressed what is also a premise of my own work, that transformative leadership has the responsibility “to instigate structural transformations at the material level [. . .] in addition to the ideological work that is done at a pedagogical level” (p. 89). Others, in various disciplines, have advocated transformative leadership and transformative pedagogies. See, for example, healthcare (Duncan et al. 2006; Fahrenwald et al. 2007; Watkins 2000), human service organizations (Evans et al. 2007), community organizers (Perkins et al. 2007), and counseling (Shields et al. 2018). Still others have adopted the term transformative to apply to research paradigms; Mertens (2010), for example, identified the “fundamental principles of the transformative axiological assumption” as the “enhancement of social justice, furtherance of human rights, and respect for cultural norms” (p. 470). This research paradigm reflects the same shifts in axiology, ontology, epistemology, and methodology that are represented by transformative leadership theory. By 2013, van Oord once again noted the confusion caused by the frequent confounding of the terms transformational and transformative leadership and asserted: Recognizing this conceptual murkiness, scholars such as Shields [. . .] have in recent years successfully endeavoured to define and theorize transformative leadership as distinctively separate from the transformational approach. Transformative leadership is characterized by its activist agenda and its overriding commitment to social justice, equality and a democratic society. (pp. 421–422)

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Van Oord continued, citing Shields, to explain that transformative leadership takes as its vantage point the need to: “begin with critical reflection and analysis and to move through enlightened understanding to action – action to redress wrongs and to ensure that all members of the organization are provided with as level a playing field as possible – not only with respect to access but also with regard to academic, social and civic outcomes” (Shields 2010, p. 572 as cited in van Oord 2013, p. 422). As van Oord (2013) noted, after reviewing several decades of scholarship about transformative leadership theory, and drawing on the most commonly identified and repeated aspects from the array of scholarly work of others, I articulated the hypotheses and tenets identified above.

Implementing Transformative Leadership In this section, I clarify and elaborate how the tenets and premises of TLT can guide practical interventions on the ground. To do so, I first present a lengthy vignette, compiled from an interview transcript I recorded, of one school that has transformed itself to become more equitable, inclusive, excellent, and socially just. The vignette serves as an exemplar for how TLT can instigate structural, cultural, and pedagogical transformation on the ground. In this example from a small high school in the Western United States, Principal Serena describes the goals of Community High School (pseudonyms), an alternate high school that partners with many community organizations to provide innovative opportunities for students. The vignette is written from Serena’s perspective and uses, as much as possible, her own words, abridged from my site visit.

Community High School The school was founded about 20 years ago. It started as a private school with the same mission we have now, to serve students who haven’t found success in more traditional environments. The founding principal very quickly realized that many of the students couldn’t pay the tuition so she applied to be authorized as a charter through the public school district. We provide an alternative setting for students, a smaller more supportive environment and we do have some autonomy around curriculum and social-emotional support that we believe our students need. It’s individualized in a way that can meet different students where they are and hopefully not do the same things, or create the same experience for them as if they were in a traditional environment. We were a year away from being closed essentially. The district’s executive director came in and helped us figure out where we needed to prioritize our time and resources to make sure that we not only got off the accountability clock but were better serving students. So we changed everything from the curriculum in classrooms being really relevant, to approaches to discipline, to

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having multiple types of rules in the building that support students and removing barriers so that they can be successful. Most of our students are Hispanic, Latino, or African American with a smaller percentage of White or mixed race students. About 30% are English language learners or special education students; we have about 10–15% students that are gifted and talented, which to some people might be surprising but to us it’s not. Eighty-five percent qualify for free or reduced lunch. Over the past couple of years about 70% of graduating seniors will be the first in their family to attend college and even a higher number will be the first to graduate high school. One hundred percent of our seniors have been accepted into a post-secondary option the past 6 or 7 years. Students come from all over. We provide them with bus tickets to get here, and there are students who travel about 2 h. We also have a growing number of students who are figuring out how they identify and are exploring identity issues, and I think that number is growing, hopefully because we have created an environment that is really inclusive and helps them feel safe to explore. We have hired two full-time student advocates who engage in activities like goal setting with students and figuring out, for example, if there’s a lack of motivation, how that student can become more motivated and engage. Maybe that’s connecting them to concurrent enrollment. They might say, “All right I get that you don’t like algebra class but you tell me you want to work on cars, so here’s how algebra is going to apply to that. I can put you in a class where you are actually working on cars.” So they are making real-life connections. Or they might help a student to figure out how to find their family support for their brothers and sisters who are not in school yet, whom they’ve been asked to watch during the day. So the advocates just really remove all those different barriers that you hear about so that students can remain successful. Every single student, so that’s a unique component that helps create an environment that gives voice to every student. As a staff, we all go through a training called Therapeutic Crisis Intervention for Schools (TCIS) based out of New York; it’s trauma-informed behavior management. The premise there is that when people experience trauma it not only impacts their behavior but actually impacts the physiological makeup of their brain. It helps adults avoid a power struggle and teaches us to identify our triggers; it makes us much more empathetic, patient, and compassionate and prepared to ask questions as opposed to making judgments. It’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong, it’s about some choices that were made and how we can all hold ourselves accountable and repair that part. When I am at a meeting with students or teachers, I encourage self-reflection. Growing up, I loved school and never had any issues, never missed a day, played a lot of sports, and was very engaged. I recognize my privilege and so I talk about it. My identity is built on this and I have to be able to own it and continue to work on it. We’re working on some cultural sensitivity training with staff this year and bringing in some literature that people will read around privilege and so forth. That’s important to do, especially if you have a predominately White staff. I really believe that allowing people to have some autonomy to create their own curriculum based on their passions and interests or our students’ passions and

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interests is going to be more effective than having them teach what they are not passionate about. So we ask teachers to teach what they’re passionate about and align it with the state standards and with the district’s graduation requirements. We also enroll new students every 6 weeks. For the students we serve, the schedule allows for multiple entry points. Otherwise a student that has maybe gone through probation or been in a lock down facility, and gets released, has nowhere to go. In the beginning of those 6 weeks, we’ll probably see about 25 students in classes, but due to changes to different classes or settings or to transience, they sometimes end up around 10 or 12. Teachers still have to teach a semester’s worth in a semester, but by chunking it. I think they love it and think it’s a good challenge. The students don’t necessarily get to choose their entire schedule but there are some really neat elective or community-based opportunities that have been a significant lever in moving student achievement and increasing engagement with the neighborhood. If you look at best practices and being a successful school, those that are invested in their community and really maximize the resources in that community do so much better. So just down the street we have a culinary academy; that’s through a city housing program. And then there is an actual café where staff members and students go; it’s just a little restaurant. And then we have Art Street which is also through the city housing authority and provides our students with different types of art classes, mostly related to some type of twenty-first-century career skill. One of the things that class is working on right now is creating a really cool photography, portrait, and welding project to decorate the school. “Music for Youth” is a really amazing non-profit right around the corner that does social justice and youth empowerment through music. So students are learning about transformative musicians and artists and how they have been advocates in their community and then they’re actually learning everything from how to play the guitar to how to create different instrumental beats, or they can attend a local technical or community college and take a number of classes. In some of those programs, if you miss 3 days, you fail. And then you have to pay for the course. We pay for the course for the student, but we want to make sure that when there are limited spaces, a student enrolls who will take advantage of it. I’ve seen students say, “I am going to change my habits this block because I want to do the cosmetology program.” And they do fantastically. I would guess that of our graduating seniors, close to 90% have participated in a partner program. Another big lever for us is consistent feedback and coaching. So we look for people that can receive and apply feedback. That’s really important because we’re asking students to do that every day. Students complete exit tickets for every class every day. For example, they might be asked to write down the first two lines of their Haiku poem, and the teacher can analyze them and know what percentage of the class is grasping the components of Haiku that were covered that day, what percentage isn’t, and what they need to teach the next day. If teachers struggle with these strategies, we ask whether the school is a good fit for them. Everything is about growth. It’s not just academics, it’s socially and emotionally based as well.

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We’re also moving more towards projects. I think when you envision an end of block project, it should involve getting out of the building and doing something. Our students are really eager to give back to the community. That’s where many of our students shine and I think part of the reason is because they’ve been through hardship. I want to make sure that we do several trips every year, and we would love to build to some international trips. As an example, right after Hurricane Harvey, all of the ninth and tenth grade teachers came together and said, “Wouldn’t it be neat if we culminated some cross curricular work with a trip to Houston to help rebuild the city?” Each content area teacher taught something specific to natural disasters; English classes wrote a fundraising letter and did some press releases for the media. Social studies covered the government’s role in natural disasters and looked at the disparities among different places and the availability of resources. Students were really excited about being able to help a community. And they had meaningful roles. The Houston elementary school had basically been destroyed so we helped to move them into a new facility and set up their gym and library. And then the humane society had many more animals than they were used to, so we helped them and just fell in love with all the animals. We also had conversations with members of the community. The whole experience was really powerful and there were many layers of learning. Because many of our students had never left our community, had never been in a hotel, or seen the ocean, the teachers also took them to Galveston. Now that we’re back here, almost every day, students wear the special shirts we designed. And they tend to look after one another, including the adults in the building, more than before. I think that there’s a better understanding of just the humanity that we all bring. Culturally, you can’t really measure it, but you can see it and feel it.

Exemplifying the Principles and Tenets of TLT Although the vignette of Community High School describes the efforts of a small, alternative school, I have found that the tenets apply equally well to elementary schools or to large high schools within urban, suburban, or rural settings, both in the United States and many other countries. In the vignette, we see that a reflective and caring principal and teachers have implemented strategies that put each child at the front and center of the educational enterprise. Rather than forcing students to fit into a particular curriculum, disciplinary policy, or pedagogical strategy, it is the students’ needs and circumstances that guide the educational practices. The first principle or hypothesis of TLT is clearly at the heart of Community High School’s transformation. The culture has changed in terms of providing a safe and welcoming environment that has clearly resulted in considerably improved academic performance, with all students now graduating and even gaining admission to higher education. Moreover, it has permitted students to explore issues related to identity construction and sexuality in a safe and supportive environment.

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There is also considerable evidence in Community High School for the second principle of TLT, civic engagement that promotes a strengthened democratic community. Unlike many alternative schools, this school is not focused on test preparation, extra classes to raise test scores, or narrowing the curriculum. Instead, the goal is to create an environment where each student learns to become a fully participating citizen, finding their niche, giving back to the community, and taking responsibility for one another. The new respectful and caring environment has resulted in what Serena called “a better understanding of the humanity that we all bring.” To better understand the strategies and interventions, we return now to an examination of each tenet of transformative leadership theory and a discussion of how its implementation informed the transformation of Community High School. Here, the discussion will also include reference to some of the many scholars that address each topic. Accepting the mandate. The first tenet of TLT, accepting the mandate for deep and equitable change, requires knowing oneself, developing insight about organizational inequities, and understanding the wider community. Principal Serena reflected deeply on how her privileged White background and the ease with which she negotiated schooling influenced her choices; and she encouraged the staff to reflect on their own background and experiences as well. Most importantly, she was willing to own her “White privilege,” and to bring in literature to help others understand privilege as well as the need for cultural sensitivity. This kind of critical self-reflection is consistent with Mezirow’s (1998) assertion that we must become critical of our own assumptions; he defines critical self-reflection of an assumption as “critique of a premise upon which the learner has defined a problem” (p. 186). Accepting the mandate for deep and equitable change also requires knowing what guides you, what grounds you, and what is sometimes known as identifying the hill on which you are willing to die. Accepting the mandate for deep and equitable change also requires deep knowledge of the school’s demographics, the careful identification of inequities and opportunities, and awareness of the needs of staff and students. In fact, Serena explicitly mentioned the need to “get to know every student.” To accomplish this, one might develop a school profile (Shields 2020) sometimes called an equity audit (Groenke 2010; Skrla et al. 2004). This might highlight the participation (or lack thereof) of various ethnic groups of students in extracurricular activities, disparate suspension or disciplinary incidents, disproportionate minoritized students in special education, and so forth. Finally, as Principal Serena demonstrates in the vast array of community-based electives, it is important to know your community, its people, culture, and resources. This is consistent with considerable scholarship that argues the importance of school-community partnerships (Krumm and Curry 2017; Valli et al. 2016). It is also consistent with what McKnight and Kretzman (1996) call “community mapping.” Especially in many low-income neighborhoods, we tend to think in terms of “needs” rather than “assets” with the result that we focus on problems: drugs, violence, poverty, homelessness, illiteracy, or unemployment. Community mapping takes a different approach. It identifies all of the local resources, including vacant

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land, service agencies, home businesses, schools, libraries, and so forth, that could partner with the school to enhance student learning. Clearly the staff of Community High School reflected carefully on these topics as they worked to maintain and improve the ability of the school to serve students. Deconstructing knowledge frameworks. Deconstructing knowledge frameworks that perpetuate inequity and reconstructing them in more equitable ways is a particularly important tenet, one that is frequently ignored in favor of too quickly jumping to pre-packaged solutions or programs. Identifying beliefs, assumptions, and mental models requires hard work and courageous conversations. In fact, Johnson (2008) found that “what separates successful leaders from unsuccessful ones is their mental models or meaning structures, not their knowledge, information, training, or experience per se” (p. 85). This tenet is also central to the ways in which Anello et al. (2014) conceptualize transformative leadership; they posited that “critical to the process of transformative learning is becoming aware of our own and others’ tacit assumptions and expectations” (p. 5). Once we submit our own implicit beliefs, tacit assumptions, and mental models to critical scrutiny against the values of equity, inclusion, and social justice, we may find that changes are needed. Moreover, these changes will not simply pertain to our own thinking, but to the structures and functions of the organizations within which we work. As Quantz et al. (1991) argued, “To adopt transformative leadership requires understanding how its adoption would affect the historically bureaucratic structure of schools and the traditional functionalist discourse used to describe them” (p. 98). Here, we see that the whole staff participates in professional development to learn new strategies related to cultural relevance, trauma-based intervention, or curriculum “chunking” in order to meet student needs. Serena emphasized that if teachers were unwilling to make changes, she initiated conversations with them about whether or not the school was a “good fit.” If deficit thinking is expressed during debriefing with a teacher, Serena said it is addressed immediately. To assist with making changes, the school has carefully budgeted in order to employ two student advocates, a staff member who supports English language learners and provides professional development to the staff, and a full-time instructional coach. Thus, the focus throughout was to identify where changes needed to occur, to inform their understanding with new knowledge frameworks, and to implement the needed changes. Addressing power inequities. Quantz et al. (1991) asserted that “transformative leadership does not imply the diminishing of power, but the diminishing of undemocratic power relationships. It does not work for the reduction of power, but for its heightened use legitimated through democracy” (p. 102). They posited that this requires transforming social relationships. This is consistent with Freire’s (1970) argument that the negative impacts of an unjust order engender “violence in the oppressors, which in turn dehumanizes the oppressed” (Freire and Macedo 2000, p. 46). Freire argued for a rejection of the “banking model” of education that continues to oppress by maintaining students as objects of the learning process, rather than subjects. Instead, he also emphasized relationships and, therefore,

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proposed an education that connects students to the world around them in order for them to become humanized, authentic, and liberated. It is clear that power in Community High School is used in democratic ways and redistributed to provide teachers and students with considerable autonomy. Teachers are encouraged to teach what they and their students are passionate about. Students are encouraged to select opportunities that connect them to the real world, to understand algebra through working on cars, or to learn art and music by active creation rather than passive absorption. Additionally, as a student advocate works to help to remove barriers by helping a student find support for younger brothers or sisters, she shows a deep understanding of the student’s situation. Serena suggests that this is a “unique component that helps create an environment that gives voice to every student.” When every student has voice and autonomy, power is redistributed in significantly democratic ways. Balancing public and private good. A quarter of a century ago, Labaree (1997) argued that “the central problems with American education are not pedagogical or organizational or social or cultural in nature but are fundamentally political” (p. 40). He went on to say that an overemphasis on “political status attainment” (p. 51) and the attainment of certification has had a detrimental impact on education. Tierney (2006) asserted that the concept of “public good” had “become like motherhood and apple pie” (p. 1) and maintained that the trend to privatization had encouraged the idea that education is a private good, promoting the careers and interest of individuals, rather than the general good of society. Biesta (2019) posited that “There is a discourse of panic about educational quality, which seems to drive an insatiable need for improvement, geared towards ever narrower definitions of what counts as education and what counts in education” (p. 658). He went on to argue that the technical emphases on effectiveness and efficiency are misplaced in that although they are values, they are process values that indicate how good a particular process is in bringing about what it intends to bring about (effectiveness) and how it utilises resources for doing so (efficiency). But effectiveness and efficiency are entirely neutral with regard to what the process is supposed to bring about. (p. 659)

This begs the need for some normative values, such as equity and inclusiveness, that can lead to an understanding of education as a lever of mutual benefit and public good. Transformative leaders strive to balance individual achievement and benefit with the good of the whole. This can be clearly seen in Serena’s goals to provide students with many layers of education and her recognition that they want to “give back to the community.” Emancipation, democracy, equity, and justice. Transformative leaders also focus on values of emancipation, democracy, equity, and justice throughout the school, in relation to goals and policies, as well as to the curriculum and pedagogy. Freire (1970) argued the need to fight for the restoration of humanity through engaging students in “a struggle to overcome oppression” (Freire and Macedo

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2000, p. 47). Foster (1989) stated that “the dimensions of critique and emancipation come to the fore, [. . .] where theory begins to inform practices (p. 13). Sultana (1985) said of Giroux, one of the dominant North American educational theorists, that he consistently engages in critical analysis but also “constantly emerges hopeful that emancipation will occur” (p. 1). Quantz et al. (1991) cite Bourdieu’s assertion that “by treating all pupils, however unequal they may be in reality, as equal in rights and duties, the education system is led to give its de facto sanction to initial cultural inequalities” (p. 99). They argued that “studies show the way in which schools subjugate certain students based on class, gender, and race; but such subjugation is neither mechanical nor automatic” (p. 100), and they further asserted that change requires active resistance. In fact, they would likely agree with Weiner’s (2003) call to “root educational process in the radical democratic sphere” (p. 90). This will result in the outcomes, described by Astin and Astin (2000), to enhance equity, social justice, and the quality of life; to expand access and opportunity; to encourage respect for difference and diversity; to strengthen democracy, civic life, and civic responsibility; and to promote cultural enrichment, creative expression, intellectual honesty, the advancement of knowledge, and personal freedom coupled with responsibility. (p. 11)

In Community High School, it is clear that new policies and practices all supported the deeply democratic goals of this tenet. Among other evidence, we saw that the curriculum has been chunked with enrollment intake offered every 6 weeks, teachers who have not bought into the changes have been moved out, students who do not learn in one kind of setting are offered options, and discipline is focused on responsibility and change instead of punishment. Interdependence, interconnectedness, and global awareness. The goals of Community High School go beyond the desire for emancipation, democracy, equity, and justice discussed above. Indeed, Serena is clear about the importance of the teachers and students learning that nationally and globally we are interconnected and interdependent. In this quest to focus on both autonomy and relationships, Serena’s emphasis is consistent with Giroux’s (2004) call for “a politics that promotes autonomy and social change,” one that views teaching, not as a technical practice, but that is “part of a more expansive struggle for individual rights and social justice” (p. 34). Teaching and pedagogy in Community High School are clearly conceived as part of this expansive struggle, instead of the more typical focus of helping students pass standardized tests. Truong-White and McLean (2015) critiqued some common ways of thinking about global citizenship which tend to “emphasize an awareness of ‘distant others,’ thus reinforcing a ‘them/us’ mentality at the expense of linking local and global challenges and engaging students in critical analysis of social justice issues” (p. 4). Teachers in Community High School avoided this tendency to exoticize the “other” by ensuring students personally interacted with those affected by Hurricane Harvey. This tenet of transformative leadership theory exemplifies the concept of “egalitarian solidarity” described by Green (2001) as “the disposition to ally oneself with others not because they are similar to oneself in social background or agree with one’s own

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tastes and values but precisely because they are different and yet have permanently common human interests” (p. 177). Understanding and transcending different material realities, locations, or belief systems to attain an awareness of our common humanity and interdependence is one goal of transformative leadership. Serena advocated the kind of “egalitarian solidarity” advanced by Green (2001) when he went on to argue that “life is fuller for all of us when we live it among different people, all respecting and identifying with each other in that difference” (p. 185). Because many of her students have a relatively narrow range of life experience, teachers had arranged a trip to the ocean. And they also encouraged students to talk to members of the wider community to hear their perspectives and learn about their experiences. The combination of new experiences, personal interactions, and engaged action assisted the students to gain a deeper sense of themselves as members of the global community. The layers of experience and learning she identifies promoted global awareness, as does her desire to raise funds to enable students to participate in international travel. Balancing critique with promise. Freire (1970) called for conscientization, becoming aware, which in his words, involves “critical and liberating dialogue, which presupposes action” (Friere and Macedo 2000, p. 63). Quantz et al. (1991) asserted that “the language of critique should always contain the language of possibility and the language of possibility should always contain the language of critique” (p. 107). Weiner (2003) urged “concrete dreaming” which is a “moment of possibility that stays fully aware of the struggles and realities of the present moment. It involves a dimension of ‘escape’ – not from, but toward” (p. 101). The combination of critique, critical dialogue, and action that promises transformation and a better life lived in common are called for by tenet seven. It is easy to criticize and even to critique. It is more difficult to dream of possibilities, and even more difficult to engage in action that promises (the word I have chosen here) transformation. Yet that is exactly what Serena, her staff, and the surrounding community have done. And because they have successfully transformed the school to a place of safety, inclusion, and excellence, they have averted the threat of closure, and the enrollment of the school has increased to its maximum, primarily “through word of mouth.” The call to exhibit moral courage. Implementing and sustaining the changes described in the vignette of Community High School (which are simply illustrative of many other changes) require a considerable amount of persistence and moral courage. It does not necessarily take great courage to change one’s mindset or assumptions, but it does require considerable courage to act on new knowledge frameworks, to redistribute power (which means that the “hegemonic power” of some is reduced), or to rethink and implement a more socially, culturally, linguistically, and politically responsive curriculum. Hutchinson et al. (2015) described moral courage as the display of visible integrity and, an overriding concern for openness in forming solutions. Given many [. . .] problems are entrenched in accepted practices and systems; they will only be resolved by changes in established practices and ways of thinking. Addressing wicked

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issues ultimately requires the moral courage to challenge conventional wisdom; the generosity to involve those affected in finding solutions and the humility to work within the paradox of failure being part of the solution. (p. 3022)

Challenging conventional wisdom in order to provide redress for inequity is one of the foremost aspects of transformative leadership theory. Weiner (2003), in discussing Freire’s tenure as secretary of education in Sao Paulo, Brazil, put it this way: Transformative leadership, on the other hand, must have one foot in the dominant structures of power and authority, and as such become “willing” subjects of dominant ideological and historical conditions. As a force for transformation, Freire had to get inside the operations and apparatuses of administrative power. (p. 91)

Getting inside the apparatuses of power, working within existing systems to effect change, is not easy. As one changes the status quo to eliminate inequities, to redistribute power, and promote global awareness, some will feel the loss of their “advantage” and often push back. It is for that reason we return to the requirement in the first tenet that transformative leaders must know what grounds and guides them in order to take a courageous stance to confront inequity. As Quick and Normore (2004) posited, “For the educational leader, the primary principle of moral leadership and courage is complemented by authenticity: acting in accordance with one’s beliefs” (p. 339). Principal Serena exemplified both courage and authenticity. As she described her own journey, including her privilege, and the steps she had taken to become more informed about her students lives and how to address the challenges they bring to their school, one cannot help but admire the persistence it has taken to reach the current state of transformation. Nevertheless, she would agree with Giroux (2004) that “democracy is never finished and must be viewed primarily as a process” (p. 31).

Guiding Practical Interventions with Transformative Leadership Theory Just as democracy is a process that requires continuous attention, so, too, is the work of transforming schools to be equitable, inclusive, excellent, and socially just. New students and unanticipated events will bring volatility, uncertainty, and unanticipated challenges. In 2011, former US Deputy Secretary of Education Tony Miller (2011) asserted that One out of every four students that walks through the schoolhouse doors on the first day of their freshmen year in high school will not graduate with their classmates, if at all. In minority communities, the numbers are even bleaker – it is closer to one out of every two. Every year, that’s 1.2 million students giving up. That’s a student dropping out every 26 seconds.

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Between 2011 and 2017, American high school graduation rates climbed slightly to 80% for Hispanic students, from “67 percent to 77.8 percent for Black students, 70 percent to 78.3 percent for low-income students, and 59 percent to 67.1 percent for students with disabilities” (Atwell et al. 2019). Further, these rates are not uniform, with almost 2,000 high schools across the United States graduating less than 60% of their students, many of these in large urban centers, but also located in “small towns and counties, including many districts with just one high school” (Atwell et al. 2019, p. 5). Moreover, as described by Gallup (2017), the dropout rate is a social problem that results in high unemployment, low-income jobs, and 75% of all crimes. These statistics are only a few of the many indicators of the need for change in our public schools. The foregoing exemplar of transformative leadership theory provides one way of thinking about the requisite changes. Indeed, as schools in widely differing communities and contexts embark on the journey to become more equitable, socially just and inclusive, the two basic principles of transformative leadership offer guidance as to starting points. Principle one assists with the identification of barriers to respectful inclusion, warm welcome, and full participation; thus, it comprises the starting point for creating a safe, respectful environment for all. Principle two helps students to understand they are part of something larger, citizens of their community, nation, and indeed, the world, and hence, strengthens the overall fabric of community. The eight tenets provide some guidance about where and how intervention needs to occur. For example, in a large urban community the primary barriers may be poverty, racism, and deficit thinking. Beginning by deconstructing notions of colorblind racism (Awad et al. 2005; Bonilla-Silva 2006) and helping teachers to understand how deficit thinking can inhibit the success of students may be the most useful starting point. Here courageous conversations that confront implicit bias that results in low expectations of students and blames families (and often teachers) are essential starting points. Jumping immediately to new programs or changing textbooks will not overcome the detrimental impact of negative assumptions or deficit thinking. In fact, as Wagstaff and Fusarelli (1995) found a quarter of a century ago, the most important factor in the academic achievement of minoritized students is the principal’s explicit rejection of deficit thinking. In a school with a large number of students who are undocumented, redistributing power to hear from parents about immigration concerns and how best to support their children may be the best starting point. In a school with a gifted program primarily (or uniquely) populated by the school’s White students to the exclusion of Latino, African American, or Indigenous students, one would have to ask, “Why? Are some students genetically more gifted than others or is something wrong with the screening and identification procedures?” In a rural area, where there is no public transportation available, one might need to begin by tackling transportation provisions that prevent students and their families from being able to participate in extra-curricular activities. There is no magic formula, but the principles and tenets of transformative leadership offer guidance as to where and how to begin. Collecting some baseline data as described above in a school profile or an equity audit will prove useful as one

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proceeds. Another way to know whether you are making progress is to administer a survey (e.g., Shields 2020) about existing beliefs and actions at the beginning of the process as well as at several points along the way. Asking questions and reflecting on the responses at every stage of intervention will ensure you are identifying any unintended and undesirable consequences. Some useful questions are: • • • •

Who is advantaged and who is disadvantaged? Who is included and who is excluded? Who is marginalized and who is privileged? Whose voices have been heard and who has been silenced?

These “decision questions” will help to ensure that the unintended consequences of decisions are being considered in the light of equity and disparity, and that the most powerful voices are not silencing others. Taken together, the principles and tenets of transformative leadership theory comprise a comprehensive framework for creating an inclusive, equitable, excellent, and socially just school. It suggests ways of thinking about, as well as intervening in, the cultures, structures, policies, and practices of an organization. And, as the exemplar of Serena and Community High School demonstrates, radically transforming a school is a holistic process which requires addressing beliefs, discipline approaches, curriculum, and pedagogy, and more. The key is to adopt a theory, such as transformative leadership, that guides both belief and action. As we have clearly seen here, TLT calls for reflection and action, critique and then action, dialogue and then action. It is difficult and time-consuming work – work that is never finished.

Concluding Thoughts The mythical inn-keeper, Procrustes, promised travelers an exquisite dinner followed by a night’s sleep in a bed that fits them perfectly; however, to fulfill his promise Procrustes either stretched his travelers or cut off their legs to conform to the size of the bed. Educators work within multifaceted organizations that interface with the societies in which they are embedded in multiple and complex ways. They are influenced by the norms of their society, but to meet changing times and demographics, they must also often challenge and hence influence those prevailing norms. Educators cannot, like Procrustes, continue to force students to conform to structures of education that reflect the norms, values, and practices of previous times. Instead, we must address the ways in which education is constrained by these norms which often perpetuate colonial mindsets and in turn marginalize and oppress many students, particularly those with the greatest need. Foster (1986) asserted that educational leadership should be “critically educative,” that it should not “only look at the conditions in which we live” but decide how to change them (p. 185). Three years later, in 1989, he argued that “administration needs to be thought of as a critical practice and as a moral practice, reflecting on the

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social conditions of institutions in this society” (p. 6) and that leadership should be reconceptualized as a “transformative, critical, and emancipatory practice” (p. 14). Giroux (1981) argued the need to “help teachers develop a critical appreciation of the situation in which they find themselves” (p. 218). This critical appraisal of the situation includes, as Foster (1986) asserted, the need for educational leadership to be “critically educative,” to not only “look at the conditions in which we live” but decide how to change them (p. 185). To respond to these concerns, I have posited here that we need a critical, normative, and transformative theory. A critical theory, as Crossman (2019) said, “is a social theory oriented toward critiquing and changing society as a whole. It differs from traditional theory, which focuses only on understanding or explaining society.” Emerging from Marxist traditions, a critical theory emphasizes the needs of those who are the least advantaged in society because of inequitable mechanisms of power and domination. A normative theory is one which includes not simply process values and variables (Biesta 2019), but what I am calling core values. These values provide a basis for decision rules to justify the functions they advocate, as do the tenets and decision questions introduced above. For example, testing a proposed new policy against the criterion of equity and who might be included or excluded will help to determine its appropriateness. Assessing a specific grade requirement as a prerequisite for entry into college preparatory courses might reveal that it fails the criterion of inclusivity and continues to advantage those from more economically stable homes. A transformative theory questions the underlying norms and assumptions on which societies (or organizations) are built and offers guidance for transformation (as opposed to simply tinkering and change). Transformative leadership theory is just such a theory. After identifying the need to develop a critical appreciation of the situation in which we find ourselves, Giroux (1981) went on to explain that Theory, in this case, becomes a form of critique, one that represents a necessary but insufficient condition for freedom. As such it speaks to the capacity for self understanding and the need to translate that understanding into political struggles in many sites and at a variety of levels of action. (p. 218)

That is exactly the role of transformative leadership theory. It becomes a form of critique of the inequities within our organizations, communities, and world, and of the situations in which teachers and students find themselves, including the ways in which material realities outside school influence performance within the organization. TLT does not provide a recipe for intervention or implementation, but “As a mode of critique and analysis, theory functions as a set of tools inextricably affected by the context in which it is brought to bear, but it is never reducible to that context” (Giroux 1981, p. 221). Transformative leadership theory does provide a comprehensive set of tools; it is, however, not reducible to a prescription or a particular context. Instead, in its commitment to core values directed at achieving social change, the theory has the

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potential to transform contexts. Hence, as a critical and normative theory, transformative leadership holds the possibility to offer all members of the school community an inclusive, equitable, socially just, and excellent education. In turn, a transformative, transformed, and transforming education for all will fulfill Mandela’s hope that education will both transform lives and change the world.

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Theorizing About Identity Politics in Education and School Leadership Carol A. Mullen

and Kim C. Robertson

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Select Social Justice Theories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Critical Race Theory: Theory 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Black Feminist Theory (BFT): Theory 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Identity Theory: Theory 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Educating for Critical Consciousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Developing Activist Identities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Heeding Civic Callings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Naming Social Identity Platforms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Theorizing about identity politics in education and school leadership is the subject of this conceptual essay. Identity politics is the underlying construct. The chapter addresses social justice theories in education to aid in theory building, research-informed practice, cultural pedagogy, and social movement. Whether in formal or informal educational settings or through twenty-first

This chapter is an extensive revision and update of select aspects of the authors’ book (Mullen and Robertson 2014; see references for citation) C. A. Mullen (*) School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] K. C. Robertson Center for Advanced Academics, Brown Summit Middle School, Brown Summit, NC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_135

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century social movements like Black Lives Matter (BLM), this writing educates about important and influential theories for action. Situated in identity politics, this scholarly text is organized around Critical Race Theory (CRT), Black Feminist Theory (BFT), and identity theory. All three theories are described at length and illustrated mainly through higher education situations and/or school leadership. Additional frameworks are associated with each theory. The frameworks described have relevance in and beyond the classroom and through social movements against racial discrimination, systemic inequity, and so forth. African American females in education are the main stakeholder and influencer throughout and in their various roles as innovators, pioneers, activists, scholars, students, mentees, leader, etc. Educating for critical consciousness in leadership preparation (section “Educating for Critical Consciousness”) is considered in relation to (a) developing activist identities, (b) heeding civic callings, and (c) naming social identity platforms. Anchored in theory, research, and application, the chapter looks to informed action in educational leadership programs. Keywords

Black Feminist Theory · Critical Race Theory · Identity theory · Higher education · Doctoral education · Antiracist school leadership · Social justice · Educational leadership

Introduction Theorizing about identity politics in education and school leadership is the subject of this conceptual essay. Identity politics is the underlying construct. The chapter addresses social justice theories in education to aid in theory building, research-informed practice, cultural pedagogy, and social movement. Whether in formal or informal educational settings or through twenty-first century social movements like Black Lives Matter (BLM), this writing educates about important and influential theories for action. Situated in identity politics, this scholarly text is organized around Critical Race Theory (CRT), Black Feminist Theory (BFT), and identity theory. All three theories are described at length and illustrated mainly through higher education situations and/or school leadership. Additional frameworks are associated with each theory. The frameworks described have relevance in and beyond the classroom and through social movements against racial discrimination, systemic inequity, and so forth. African American females in education are the main stakeholder and influencer throughout and in their various roles as innovators, pioneers, activists, scholars, students, mentees, leader, etc. Educating for critical consciousness in leadership preparation (section “Educating for Critical Consciousness”) is considered in relation to (a) developing activist identities, (b) heeding civic callings, and (c) naming social identity platforms. Anchored in theory, research, and application, the chapter looks to informed action in educational leadership programs. To clarify our stances, we are activists who do not want to be the spokesperson for all Black women or appear to try to be. In this work-in-progress, we theorize and

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unpack components of select theories as a white female (professor of educational leadership) and Black female (middle school principal). Our collaboration is rooted in a doctoral advising relationship from years ago and scholarship that became a book that centers Black feminism and women of color’s leadership in real-world settings (Mullen and Robertson 2014).

Select Social Justice Theories Three theories follow. The theorizing at some length situates some contributions of pioneering scholars, many of whom are Black feminists and activists from the social sciences and humanities. Description and examples from educational studies help convey key messages. Unpacking identity politics, we begin with CRT, move to BFT, and end with identity theory.

Critical Race Theory: Theory 1 An antiracist social justice concept, CRT examines how race and racism are perpetuated (Delgado and Stefancic 2000; Mullen and Robertson 2014; Tate 1997). This social identity framework is used for examining “the roles, rules, and recognition of race and racism in society” (Beachum 2013, p. 923). The attention CRT gives to storytelling legitimizes the experiences of people, especially women, of color (Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995) in the professions and leadership (Mullen and Robertson 2014). CRT upholds the premise that racial realities lie at the core of American institutions, maintaining and justifying systemic inequities in education, income/wealth, housing, and so forth. Understanding racism is crucial, as it provides a basis for researching race relative to persistent racism and racist influences in education. In 2021, CRT is in the national spotlight owing to Republican lawmakers’ fight against teaching CRT in schools and funding it with federal dollars. Chapman, Dixson, Gillborn, and Ladson-Billings (2013) add that CRT places value on narratives that counter dominant discourses of leadership and naming one’s own reality (e.g., “womanism” as a signifier of Black female identity, as described later). Minoritized groups can be self-condemning (hooks 1984/2000), which happens when stereotypes and negative images are internalized that certain elements of society perpetuate to maintain power. In a survey (conducted by Jones and ShorterGooden 2004), 80% of African American females divulged having been personally affected by racist and sexist assumptions. One such assumption is that Black skin means low standards and that the systems and individuals that support – and hire – Black people lower their standards. This is but one of the negative pervasive myths that Black women work to dispel by endeavoring to prove themselves, represent others of their race, and mentor for social justice (Gooden et al. 2020). Orientations, Tenets, and History of CRT. With philosophical, political, and legal orientations, CRT “emerged from the arguments of legal scholars who believed that race played a dominant role in the current legal structure but was often ignored or overlooked in favor of laws and policies that inherently disadvantaged African

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Americans” (Mungo 2013, p. 113). As Tate (Tate 1997) explained about the origins of this framework: CRT is a product of and response to one of the most politically active and successful eras of social change in the United States and cannot be divorced from it without losing analytical insight. The CRT movement in legal studies is rooted in the social missions and struggles of the 1960s that sought justice, liberation, and economic empowerment; thus, from its inception, it has had both academic and social activist goals. Furthermore, the movement is a response to the retrenching of civil rights gains and a changing social discourse in politics. (p. 197)

Having become popular in the education field, CRT is a lens for interrogating power, privilege, and oppression. Scholars use it as a foundation for their orientations and arguments, and even as a research methodology. Many refer to Ladson-Billings and Tate’s (Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995) research on CRT and explanation that social and school inequity is based on three propositions: 1. Race is a significant factor explaining certain inequities in the United States. 2. American society is based on property rights, and the intersection of race and property generates a tool through which we can examine social (and, consequently, school) inequity. 3. CRT supports the premise that racism is a systemic condition that is pervasive, permanent, and indefensible (Vaught and Castagno 2008, paraphrased). Moreover, CRT operates based on six unifying tenets (Matsuda et al. 1993): 1. Racism is endemic to American life. 2. Dominant claims of neutrality, objectivity, colorblindness, and meritocracy are to be looked upon with skepticism. 3. Ahistoricism is to be challenged; historical analyses are needed for understanding the disadvantages (and advantages) of all groups. 4. Experiential knowledge and communities of origin should be recognized. 5. Interdisciplinary is essential for embracing different ways of knowing. 6. Eliminating racial oppression as part of the broader goal of ending all forms of oppression should be a global vision. CRT can impact the ways leaders experience and navigate the “complexity of their multiple identities” – “socially constructed but deeply embodied” – (Josselson and Harway 2012) based on race. Its key tenets influence perspectives, methods, and pedagogy in education. CRT 1. Challenges the experiences of Whites as the normative standard. 2. Posits that the master narrative supports racism found at all levels of society and reflects White norms and experiences. 3. Espouses that sharing stories of racism gives people of color a “unique voice.”

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4. Advocates the use of storytelling as an act of opposition, activism, and education to counter master narratives. 5. Acknowledges that White privilege and norms are often difficult and invisible to Whites. 6. Purports that understanding objective truth and merit means challenging concepts that are socially constructed to reflect and benefit Whites. 7. Communicates that our socially constructed racial, gender, sexual, and other identities have intersectionality. 8. Explains that differences in communication styles, perceptions of success, and performance mask roots of racism, sexism, power, and White privilege that plague our society, and 9. Says that providing any deconstruction or intervention should take into account how it will and can affect people of color (Stanley 2007, p. 17, cited verbatim). Considering CRT from a historical perspective, African American historian Carter G. Woodson (1875–1950) pioneered the study of Black history. Woodson (1933/2010) described an educational system that was two faced: While it inspired and stimulated the oppressor and made the individual believe they were all-knowing and had accomplished (or would accomplish) everything worthwhile, the same system crushed the Black person, making them feel that their race would never measure up to the standards and successes of the oppressor. Scrutinizing conditions in which Black people were being miseducated into believing they were inferior, Woodson’s (1933/2010) explanation was that the education system had conditioned members of his race to think of themselves as less-than. Illustrating this he described how they would automatically sit apart from white people and act invisible. Importantly, Woodson took steps to surface this societal wreckage. The concepts of racial socialization he described (using hegemony implicitly) addressed institutionalized racism, internal racism, and deep-seated insecurities. Because society has subscribed to this belief of racial socialization, an assumption that lurks is that African Americans are limited in ability and will never measure up to white people. With the power and authority of Woodson’s profound countercultural message, it is no surprise that he had to publish his book (i.e., original edition) himself. Story and Voice Dimensions of CRT. Black educators and leaders, especially females, need to share their stories and have their thoughts heard by multiple stakeholders, ranging from employers to academies and from policymakers to communities. All of us need to listen deeply, unite widely, and act boldly. CRT subscribes to this belief on a broader scale and underscores the importance of knowing about and changing current systems using lessons learned from people of color. However, there can be potential risk and fallout resulting from acts of courage. Story and voice are windows onto African American narratives. Intentionally, researchers create advantage for this narrative through these tenets (i.e., story and voice). Critical race theorists (some of whom are cited herein) examine race and racism in society and legitimize people of color’s experiences, many advancing

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counternarrative and story as a theoretical foundation of empowerment, agency, and action (Mullen and Robertson 2014). It is “necessary for African Americans and other minorities to have a voice and tell their own stories” (Mungo 2013, p. 114); thus, CRT is predicated upon the belief that “naming one’s own voice is necessary” because “reality is socially constructed; stories allow oppressed groups the ability to preserve their histories and ideas; and the exchange of stories from teller to listener allows those who are unaware to see the world in a new way” (Mungo 2013, p. 114; ▶ Chap. 38, “Preserving Black Education Legacy and Influence Through Oral Histories of Southern Segregated Schools” by Norton and Mullen). The “tenet of voice” (Mungo 2013, p. 114) counters systems and practices that disadvantage African Americans – as reinforced by Bell (2004), Mungo (2013), Mullen and Robertson (2014), and others writing in the CRT tradition, most certainly Black feminists. Critical race theories and applications often incorporate narrative strategies to “give” voice to the oppressed. In this vein, whether to grant or reclaim voice, “critical race theorists use stories, counterstories [stories of resistance], revisionist histories, and more, . . . although hearing directly from the affected group is probably the most authentic form of representation” (Mullen and Robertson 2014, p. 43; Solórzano and Yosso 2002). Oral history methods support the notion that “providing a platform for more marginalized groups to speak on their own behalf might provide greater leverage for empowerment, storytelling, and desired action” (Mullen and Robertson 2014, p. 43; Crenshaw et al. 1995; Ladson-Billings and Tate 1995; ▶ Chap. 38, “Preserving Black Education Legacy and Influence Through Oral Histories of Southern Segregated Schools” by Norton and Mullen; Solórzano and Yosso 2002). Activist scholars do not escape exercising elements of power and privilege when “capturing” the perspectives and experiences of minoritized groups. In research conducted by critical race theorists and feminists, oral histories provide both an opening and opportunity for people of color to share experiences and in their own words. Oral history, a subgenre of interviewing, is a documented reminiscence shared through storytelling. It is also a strategy for portraying what Janesick (2010) described as ordinary people’s lived experiences, particularly “the voices and stories of those on the margins of society,” including females who have largely been excluded from history for which this methodology can contribute “some awareness of social justice” (p. vi). In the CRT tradition, Norton and Mullen (▶ Chap. 38, “Preserving Black Education Legacy and Influence Through Oral Histories of Southern Segregated Schools”) conducted an interview study with alumni and teachers who were at an allBlack school in Virginia from 1963 to 1970 during the Civil Rights Movement. The oral historical narrative they constructed adds to the scholarship “on desegregation as experienced by witnesses, putting the spotlight on the desegregation of schools from the student perspective (p. 866).” About the importance of this work, they explained that “the examination of student voices, perspectives, and experiences during desegregation illuminates America’s journey toward an equitable education and struggle with the remnants of segregation that must be addressed to achieve racial equity for students of color (p. 866).” Literature on Black education covers, to some extent, student perspectives during desegregation in addition to supports from

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the African American community within southern segregated schools, but much more work is needed in this area. “Naming one’s own voice,” as Mungo (2013) put it, is also underscored in Delgado’s (1989) powerful scholarship on oppositional storytelling. As asserted by this African American male, utilizing stories and counterstories as “oppositionists” is vital in “the struggle for racial reform” (p. 2415). In his essay, “a plea for narrative,” the premise is advanced that “members of outgroups [like African Americans] should tell stories” and that “members of ingroups [like whites should] listen to them” (p. 2439). One supposition Delgado (1989) laid out that reverberates elsewhere in his body of work (Delgado and Stefancic 2000; Matsuda et al. 1993) is that reality is socially constructed, meaning that people and groups can generate empowering or limiting representations of each other, which become adopted: “Counterstories . . . challenge the received wisdom” and “logic” of institutions. The target of opposition by minoritized groups, Delgado (1989) explained, are fixed judgments held by a majority population. In his words, “the prevailing mindset by which members of the dominant group justify the world as it is, that is, with whites on top and browns and blacks at the bottom [is the essential problem of racial divide]” (p. 2413). Stories that are potent arguments against white ideology take issue with how “current social arrangements [are made to] seem fair and natural” (p. 2414). Storytelling also “open[s] new windows into reality, showing [Black people] that there are possibilities for life other than the ones we live” (p. 2414). A fundamental problem exposed is that what people know or presume to be true becomes institutionalized and counts as knowledge. As such, projected logic is (white) ideology. All socially constructed realities (expectations, rules, beliefs, etc.) can be changed through interaction, new ways of seeing and acting, and different societal beliefs. A second supposition shaping Delgado’s (1989) thinking is that stories provide members of the outgroup with a vehicle for self-preservation, health, and healing, although they may feel forced to tell these in private: “The attraction of stories for these groups – ‘whose consciousness has been suppressed, devalued, and abnormalized’ – should come as no surprise” (p. 2412). A third supposition is that tellers and listeners’ storytelling exchanges can help with viewing the world differently and in alternative and multiple ways that may end up changing limited conceptions of race and gender: “The dominant group creates its own stories, as well. The stories or narratives told by the ingroup remind it of its identity in relation to outgroups and provide it with a form of shared reality in which its own superior position is seen as natural” (p. 2412). “Voicing” one’s own reality is an avenue for minorized groups to move past condemnation and negative stereotypes constructed by white society to maintain power, privilege, authority, and superiority. Telling stories can help people of color understand how reality is being constructed by society, how they can empower themselves to create their own reality, and how they can influence others’ perceptions, misconceptions, and stereotypes. Sharing their discoveries can sensitize listeners to their plight.

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Identity politics in our book Shifting to Fit is animated by the storytelling of six Black female principals in North Carolinian public schools (Mullen and Robertson 2014). The stories they tell are woven through theoretical lenses (CRT, BFT, and social identity theory) and grounded in societal, professional, and personal issues of gender and race. Based on our interviews with these school leaders, our story collection (findings) revolved around four themes: (a) encountering the norms of the dominant culture, (b) rejecting and countering the norms, (c) providing new directions, and (d) offering new ways of seeing. An overarching concept of shifting in the 2014 book conveyed the experience of these minoritized administrators as “shifting to fit” in their jobs. The stories shared and a diary maintained by another African American principal address social constructions of Black women, and expectations of how they should think, behave, and lead. These administrators’ stories were replete with examples of microaggressions experienced on the job that caused them to “shift” or adjust (their personae) among different situations. By presenting their authentic accounts, not only were tenets of CRT and BFT illustrated but also support was provided for the self-identity, self-efficacy, and self-transformation of minoritized female school leaders. Sharing their thoughts and feelings, and values and beliefs exposed aspects of their identities and lives. Through the storytelling process, we (the researchers) were able to narrate social–identity dimensions of these Black school leaders’ selfhood and profession. Myths of educational administration – at the center of white ideology, doctrine, and institutions – were expected sources of mimicry for them. Objective competencies of educational leaders (inherited through white male doctrine) forced these female principals to find their voice while navigating institutional expectations and norms, ranging from their daily patterns of leadership and communication to their appearance. Our qualitative methods addressed the identity politics of women leaders from an underrepresented population in a relative position of power and influence at work and resulting from their degrees and additional credentials (see also Adams-Wiggan 2010). We now briefly consider another study that also documents CRT in action at the public school level (Barnes et al. 2013). In contrast with the previous study mentioned (i.e., by Mullen and Robertson 2014), the Barnes et al. study found that race was unconscious in a select student population. The 2013 study followed 26 students of color in a racially diverse ninth-grade academy in North Carolina. Aspects of their schooling experiences were uncovered along with their views of race and racial relations. None of these students divulged that race played a role in their freshman experience, even though the research observer had witnessed otherwise. For example, in the racially progressive curriculum they were sometimes being taught, particularly in English class, the teacher explained that white-dominant systems have a history of falsely accusing Black people of crimes and punishing them. Despite learning about racism from a historical and structural view, they did not seem to recognize the curricular interventions as race-related or to exhibit racial awareness in the presence of the interviewer.

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From a CRT perspective, when people state that racism does not exist or they cannot “see” it in their immediate worlds, colorblindness is a factor, along with the status quo, stereotyping, and bias, no matter how nuanced or inferred (Chapman et al. 2013). Ninth-grade academies nationwide, however, tend to be in urban areas where students are mainly from racial/ethnic groups. As such, this helps explain why the students of color at the rurally located academy depicted in Barnes et al.’s (2013) study seemed unaware of the racial component of their freshman experience. They had had little opportunity to interact with white students and gain socialization experiences that could foster a racial consciousness. Nonetheless, as the researchers (Barnes et al. 2013) concluded, leaders – teachers and principals alike – play a critically important role in educating for racial consciousness relative to every student and adult’s development. Racial sense-making activities and future-minded, goal-oriented activities are even more necessary with the emergence of nonmainstream minoritized groups as the new majority in the United States. High school students, including females of color, will be leading in increasingly racially diverse societies. As Beachum (2013) wrote, educating for racial consciousness in a global world is an essential step in the call for action that promotes an emancipatory life. Critical race methodology “offers a way to understand the experiences of people of color.” The “educational pipeline” is one such context for this type of examination (Solórzano and Yosso 2002, p. 36; Gooden et al. 2020). People of color, whether students or professionals, experience the pipeline from the early to advanced grades as advantageous or disadvantageous to their development and success. As such, university-based preparation programs would range in their effectiveness in offering curriculum and guidance that supports ethical, equity-minded graduates for teacher and leader positions in schools. Concerning authenticity in the research process, one might interview Black female principals to hear their stories and observe them in action. In our study (i.e., Mullen and Robertson 2014), we not only presented Black principals the opportunity to discuss their leadership identity development but also identified experiences with racism and sexism as a valid data source (as per Solórzano and Yosso 2002). Using CRT to examine administrators’ perspectives and experiences can impact how leaders develop and navigate their identities. Race, class, and gender, and the intersections among them, aid in understanding school achievement issues, although inequalities between white and Black students involve greater complexity than such variables (e.g., class) may suggest. Approaching the grounding of CRT in modernday research brings us to Tate’s (Tate 1997) teachings. As he signaled years ago, CRT is an “inferiority paradigm” “built on the belief that people of color are biologically and genetically inferior to Whites”; for example, IQ studies and others involving “identifiable characteristics” seem to have lasting power in studies with vulnerable groups (p. 199). This undertow is evident in examinations of the “intellectual assessment and school success of African American and other ethnic minority students” (p. 199). The wisdom Tate imparted is to recognize that the “[CRT] paradigm is a tool for the maintenance of racial subordination” and to use its

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“defining elements” in new and creative ways (p. 236). In this spirit, the idea is to thoughtfully recreate the CRT framework in education.

Black Feminist Theory (BFT): Theory 2 BFT or “Black feminist thought” examines African American females’ experiences. Like CRT, the BFT paradigm is “part of a much larger social justice project” (p. 23) extending well beyond this population, as explained by Black theorist Collins (2000). Jones, Wilder, and Osborne-Lampkin (2013) advanced understanding of BFT in their doctoral advising framework and analysis, the purpose of which was to utilize “a Black feminist approach” in an effort to “prepar[e] Black women for the professoriate” (p. 326). “Black feminist thought,” they stated, fosters cultural responsiveness and encompasses “an ethic of community, empowerment, caring, accountability, and diverse knowledge” (pp. 330–334). These same ethics or principles are “integral” to “a Black feminist informed approach to advising Black female students” (p. 334). As such, faculty advisors’ relational work is guided by and embodies the “principles of inclusion (ethic of community); encouragement (ethic of empowerment); empathy, compassion, and concern (ethic of caring); student responsibility and obligation (ethic of accountability); and Black women as agents of knowledge (ethic of diverse knowledge claims)” (p. 334).

Application of BFT in Educational Contexts In educational mentoring and advising contexts, BFT has been applied in various ways. An emergent approach in the scholarship centers on advising Black females in doctoral education, a population that is minorized in predominantly white institutions (PWIs). Regarding applications, a Black feminist take on advising in doctoral studies has been undertaken by Gooden et al. (2020) and Jones et al. (2013), among other researchers. In Jones et al.’s (2013) application, faculty responsibilities were highlighted for mentoring and advising Black female doctoral students. The context as described is that they are “steadily” entering doctoral programs that offer culturally responsive advising but from a “dismally” small or depleted pool of Black female doctoral advisors (p. 326). This point was also raised by Gooden et al. (2020) in the search by African American female students to secure the service of Black women as program mentors and members on their doctoral committees. To support the education and future of African American female students, Jones et al. (2013) proposed that doctoral advising practices build on “Black feminist thought,” specifically the ethics of “community, empowerment, caring, accountability, and diverse knowledge” (pp. 330, 334). For their research they adapted the BFT framework to identify “responsibilities, functions, and characteristics of advisors” that support “a culturally responsive approach to advising” (p. 334). A larger social goal was to offset Black females’ negative experiences in the academy of exclusion, isolation, and marginalization, as evidenced by a lack of mentoring or ineffectual advising. As per their analysis, a Black feminist advising model benefits from, and

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draws on, these three ideologies in support of “best practices for advising Black female doctoral students” (p. 334). 1. “Advisors’ responsibilities” in the advising relationship – “helping students decode the hidden curriculum” and “develop as researchers (and) professionals.” 2. “Advising functions” of the advisor/advisee relationship – “developing awareness, validating, advocating, (and) educating.” 3. “Characteristics/behaviors” of this relationship – ethics of “community, empowerment, caring, accountability, and diverse knowledge” (Jones et al. 2013, p. 33). To unpack the third ideology (characteristics/behaviors), Jones et al.’s (2013) advising framework consists of five ethics. As explicated by them, community ethic refers to “a relationship built upon a communal dialogue, reciprocity, mutual respect and equality; the advising relationship is bi-directional and non-hierarchical in nature.” Ethic of empowerment is evidenced in “a relationship that de-centers the traditional power and authority structure; embodies agency and collectivity.” Ethic of caring is described as “a holistic advising relationship that considers the academic, personal, and community responsibilities of the advisee; provides advisee with a sense of caring and empathy for the ‘entire’ self.” Ethic of accountability is seen in “a relationship that is honest and candid; advisees are regularly held accountable for their work and progress.” Regarding the ethic of diverse knowledge, one would see “a promotion of inclusive epistemological standpoints and knowledge claims; ensuring that divergent (non-Eurocentric) perspectives or ways of thinking are respected, validated, and legitimized” (p. 331). In this student-centered model that is race- and gender-sensitive, positive interactions between advisees and advisors are cultivated. Specifically, pedagogical principles of learning – “caring, equality, respect, inclusion, empowerment, and a mutual knowledge exchange” (Jones et al. 2013, p. 334) – translate into exemplary practices in advisement. These researchers concluded that the BFT framework fosters culturally responsive advising and, as such, helps Black females in academe navigate institutional cultures, benefit from cultural responsiveness, and successfully complete their degree programs. Gooden et al.’s (2020) article “#Blackintheivory” from a Black feminist perspective advances cultural responsiveness as well but relative to mentoring practice. Their application puts at the forefront their relationship as a Black male mentor and two Black female doctoral students within a white-centric milieu. Working within the BFT tradition at a PWI, they built their mentorship and advanced its tenets using Jones et al.’s (2013) ethics of advising, in addition to other foundational sources (e.g., Linda Tillman’s research on mentoring African American faculty in PWIs). Originating a concept coined “culturally responsive mentoring,” Gooden and his mentees/coauthors described its tenets as “cultivating a critical consciousness, decoding the hidden curriculum, and developing cultural awareness as mentors and mentees” (p. 400). The mentoring described was one-way and bidirectional, depending on the situation and the mentor’s responsibilities, such as “to share wisdom and demystify the academy while holding mentees accountable.” Like

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culturally responsive advising functions, mentoring functions include “validating mentees’ presence, advocating for them, and educating them, including about life beyond academe” (Gooden et al. 2020, p. 400). Describing their mentoring challenges and breakthroughs in a white academic culture wherein institutional patterns and dynamics of racism are entrenched, Gooden et al. (2020) asked whether “Black students [are] truly made to feel welcome at PWIs, especially in graduate school” (p. 393). In response, they cited evidence of the alienation historically experienced by Black students at PWIs. They drew attention to the trend of “growing support of Black people’s plight in America” and assertion of support by many PWIs of the [BLM] movement juxtaposed with a conspicuous gulf between the number of Black students entering and exiting doctoral programs; further, many institutions claim “they cannot find qualified Black faculty while [failing to develop] a pipeline of scholars of color who are mentored into becoming professors”; moreover, “senior executives at PWIs are almost exclusively White and male.” Another contradiction is that mentoring intensifies the workload of “scholars of color” expected “to publish” as frequently as “their White colleagues” (p. 393). Within this PWI context, mentoring breakthroughs did coalesce. Gooden et al. (2020) foregrounded their cultural self-identifications as mentor and mentee in terms of race, culture, gender, and life experience. Enacting their identities in a white academy and narratively reflecting on them led to four benefits: (a) expression of “critical consciousness and cultural competence and compatibility” [in a world that can be “hostile to Black people, especially Black women”); (b) discernment of a “turning point” through mentoring (despite having had “disconnected experiences in the academy”); (c) awareness of the “multilayered” nature of mentorship owing to the supports provided by male and female role models (set against the constraints imposed by systemic shortages of Black female faculty from whom to learn and grow); and (d) clarification of “visions for the future” in which mentoring is expected to have continued importance (despite the uncertainty of knowing what is ahead) (pp. 403–408). Collins (2000) and Jones et al. (2013) have also encouraged the kind of advocacy work they do on behalf of African American women to be examined beyond their own contributions and for other underserved student populations. Higher education, they acknowledged, poses systemic and interpersonal challenges for African American males, Hispanics, Native Americans, and, we add, other minorized groups – LGBTQ individuals, nontraditional (older) students, students with learning disabilities, those with impairments, and so forth. Gooden et al. (2020) recognized parallels in experience between Black students and “culturally and linguistically diverse students” feeling “culturally disconnected from programs” (p. 409).

Social Justice Considerations of BFT While Black and white females share struggles in terms of gender, crucial distinctions exist. During the feminist movement, there was a deliberate exclusion of Black and other nonwhite women by white women and an overall tenor of noncooperation between the females of both races even though some Black female leaders sought

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racial cooperation as vital to the women’s movement. Thus, the challenges and concerns of Black women could only be voiced through Black feminism (hooks 1981). Black liberation activist Anna Julia Cooper is frequently credited with having introduced Black feminist consciousness in 1892 – she asserted that women of African descent were confronted by race and gender problems (Simien 2004). Other Black feminists – Ida B. Wells-Barnett, bell hooks, and Patricia Williams – have also contributed to the Black feminist movement, advancing crucial ideas like dual consciousness and the outsider syndrome (Simien 2004). Dual consciousness is used to describe feeling empowered and disempowered at the same time. For example, Black female principals are empowered because of their esteemed position as a school leader but disempowered by the PWIs that employ them. In concert with our book that explores Black female leadership (i.e., Mullen and Robertson 2014), we found it imperative to use BFT. BFT informs narrative and empirical analyses of Black attitudes toward race, gender, and class. Black females and their experiences, perspectives, and stories exist on the margins. When pulled to the center, the Black female – no longer hidden – belongs in society where her voice, leadership, and impact can be heard. But BFT and Black feminist work is marginalized in white feminism circles in the struggle for justice, rights, and citizenship (hooks 1984/2000; Simien 2004). Collins (2000) explained the need to persevere with this kind of work, stating, “As long as Black women’s subordination within intersecting oppressions of race, class, gender, sexuality, and nation persists, Black feminism as an activist response to that oppression will remain needed” (p. 22). Political discourse in education incites questions about blind spots that essentialize gender and silence race, ethnicity, and class (Collins 2000). The Black feminism paradigm is associated with critical examination of blanketed assumptions that make it seem as though all women are the same, regardless, of race, class, nationality, or culture. Those disenfranchised by any of these dynamics may be poignantly aware of their reality. To Guy-Sheftall (2000), the dual identity of being African American and female surfaces issues of gender and race as a fundamental part of the struggle for equality and rights. This hybrid identity is not accounted for in the U.S. Constitution. The stories of females of color are historically invisibilized and currently in many circles, so these continue to be different from those of white women and Black men. Black females’ needs, concerns, and challenges are unique, which helps explain why many are compelled to vie for equal respect and recognition. Indeed, many have formed a worldview that pushes them to prove their worth. And they have long struggled to be respected without being stereotyped as sexed beings, welfare queens, maids, and mammies (Adams-Wiggan 2010; Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004; Simien 2004). BFT recognizes that these women must define their own reality and accept responsibility for doing so (Collins 2000). It focuses on the everyday experiences of African American women and the complexities, challenges, and contradictions of race and gender in their lives. An understanding is that race must not be a barrier to perseverance and contribution in service to the common good. Being resilient or seeking to be more resilient, Black women find a way to adapt, and this is where

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shifting and navigating become indispensable to survival. They have yet another daunting task – to find their place in a demographically changing American society where the new majority will include them and other nonwhite races. BFT is purposeful in giving voice to Black women who are stereotyped and misrepresented in society and excluded from competitive and top positions in education (Collins 2000). On a cautionary note, the notion of giving voice to any group, even as a representative of that group, is interlaced with politics and, at its worst, is nothing more than an exercise in patriarchy where the powerful speak for the powerless or believe they can. Just as men cannot speak for women, white women cannot speak for Black women, and even Black women cannot speak for Black women. Arguably, it is patronizing to think otherwise. Given this grounding, storytelling is activism. Through stories, storytellers refuse to be silent and commit not just to telling their story but also to imagining a world in which the impossible is possible (Delgado 1989). Stories accrue capital: In practical scholarly works where authentic accounts of Black females in education are tapped through theory-building, literature, and data (e.g., Gooden et al. 2020; Mullen and Robertson 2014; ▶ Chap. 38, “Preserving Black Education Legacy and Influence Through Oral Histories of Southern Segregated Schools” by Norton and Mullen), every story counts. Stories accumulate as political, social, and academic capital. Every story told pushes forward the BLM movement (like it did the Civil Rights Movement) on behalf of civil rights, legal equality, and equitable opportunities for African American people. Resistances – like All Lives Matter which from a CRT standpoint is racially dismissive and radical white supremacist groups’ violent agendas of white racial and national identity – evidence a dual consciousness in contemporary American society. The social realm is one area where greater activism is needed, hooks (1989) observed long ago: “Even when Black women are able to advance professionally and acquire a degree of economic self-sufficiency, it is in the social realm that racist and gendered stereotypes are continually used as ways of defining Black women’s identity and behavior” (p. 194). Again, this is where the concept of dual consciousness has credibility – even when these women have advanced professionally, they can still be socially disadvantaged because of their race and gender (Gooden et al. 2020). Black females must learn coping strategies to navigate the barriers they face (Collins 2000). They are pushed to serve in certain role capacities and must therefore hide their true selves to placate others. Shifting occurs to accommodate differences in class as well as gender and ethnicity (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004). Biculturality is their functional response to, or default for, navigating organizational systems. It is also a gift, for it is how they function concurrently in two (or more) cultures without compromising themselves or their culture or values. Racial bias is historically embedded in the power structures of organizations, including public universities and schools. Black feminist consciousness recognizes that African American women are status deprived because they deal with discrimination, the root of which is race and gender, and because poor Black women occupy the lower stratum of social hierarchy (Simien 2004). Educated African American

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women do not face double jeopardy – they endure “quadruple jeopardy by being Black, female, educated, and isolated, [and] it is a daily source of stress” (Grimes 2005, p. 3). But it should be a daily source of stress for educational systems and policymakers and all who are beneficiaries of wrongdoing and unfair situations, and racist systems and structures. Black feminism calls upon all of society to right the wrong and in a nation that is deeply divided from the Trump administration era.

Identity Theory: Theory 3 Identity theory cuts across the social and behavioral sciences, including teacher education and educational leadership. The term identity is “ubiquitous,” nuanced, and highly variable, yet three prevalent meanings do exist: (a) identity as culture (for which ethnicity is absorbed, not recognized); (b) identity as collectivity (in the identification with “a common culture”); and (c) identity as self (and the parts of selfhood) (Stryker and Burke 2000). We use identity in the third sense, “with reference to parts of a self composed of the meanings that persons attach to the multiple roles they typically play in highly differentiated contemporary societies” (Stryker and Burke 2000, p. 284). Social identity, Black education, and Black women leadership is our contextual fabric. To give a little more background on identity theory before proceeding, the identities people claim reflect their roles in society, groups they belong to, and characteristics and identifications that describe themselves (Banks et al. 2014; Boisnier 2003). A social psychological theory, “identity theory attempts to understand identities, their sources in interaction and society, their processes of operation, and their consequences for interaction and society from a sociological perspective” (Burke and Stets 2021). People hold “multiple identities [that] exist in situated interaction from their multiple positions in society and organizations” and that offer them “stability and change.” Additionally, identity roles are “hierarchically arranged in a control system of identities” (Burke and Stets 2021). Identity as self is a distinct usage of identity. In theories of feminism and womanism, identity (also racial identity) refers to awareness of self in relation to the world. “Multiple dimensions of identity” (race, gender, administrator, mother, activist, etc.) “coexist and influence each other” and thus intersect (Banks et al. 2014, p. 238; Boisnier 2003). Gender and racial identity are not exhaustive of Black female identities for whom the self is multifaceted. A powerful example resides in Black female identification with “womanism,” an alternative feminist theory (Boisnier 2003). Womanism and Black feminism or Black feminist–womanism are theories that afford a culturally based perspective inclusive of African American females’ concerns. Specifically, these alternative “frameworks provide a contextualized understanding of African American girls’ [and women’s] experiences and perspectives” (Lindsay-Dennis 2015, p. 506). Self-esteem and “young Black women’s lives” are to be nurtured (Boisnier 2003, p. 212). As mentioned earlier, the feminist movement excluded nonwhite women, truncating the female experience, so Black women’s issues could only be voiced through

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Black feminism (hooks 1981) or womanism. White privilege and norms are often invisible to white people, white-centric cultures, and PWIs. Whiteness can even be imperceptible to some Black youth (Barnes et al. 2013). Thus, while African American and white female leaders share gender struggles, women of color generally deal with greater complexity in life. Their identity and its intersectionality with gender, race, and class generates unique challenges. By naming the world and their own reality, African female women assume ownership of their lives, protect other females, and impart wisdom.

Identity Shifting in Theory and Practice Social identity and professional roles intersect as “shifting” in the lives of African American females. Shifting, a term from Jones and Shorter-Gooden (2004), is not a mainstream notion even though it is a survival tactic (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004; Mullen and Robertson 2014). A powerful concept, reasons for shifting encompass “a sort of subterfuge that African Americans have long practiced to ensure their survival in [American] society” (p. 6). As Jones and Shorter-Gooden (2004) further explained, the thinking is that Black women are especially . . . relentlessly pushed to serve and satisfy others and made to hide their true selves to placate White colleagues, Black men, and other segments of the community. They shift to accommodate differences in class as well as gender and ethnicity. From one moment to the next, they change their outward behavior, attitude, or tone, shifting “White” then shifting “Black” again, shifting “corporate,” shifting “cool.” (p. 6)

Their study of shifting involved a large cross-section of Black women from different walks of life in the United States – 333 survey respondents and 71 interviewees (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004). Reporting that they would change inwardly and outwardly by shifting, the women were forced to constantly “shift” or change their identities to navigate systems and situations, and to accommodate the different expectations. On a deeper level, as theorized, the shifting was a coping mechanism for surviving rampant racism, sexism, and negative myths about Black women. Moving among roles, personae, language, appearance, inflection, and more appropriate to white organizations and Black communities, the stories research participants told about living in contemporary society reflected a universal narrative specific to the African American female. Shifting is such a basic part of their behavior that some Black women “adopt an alternate pose or voice as easily as they . . . draw breath” (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004, p. 7). They may not be aware of their behavior, doing it “without thinking, and without realizing that the emptiness they feel and the roles they must play may be directly related” (p. 7). Playing along comes at a price. Black women have been socialized to keep their selves hidden from public view and to project what is expected – they may change their attitudes and behaviors at a moment’s notice and at times end up betraying their “true” selves.

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It was concluded by Jones and Shorter-Gooden (2004) that some Black women believed they must constantly shift because of such prevailing myths and stereotypes as: 1. Black women feel inferior to other people. 2. Black women are unshakable and physically and emotionally invulnerable to challenging circumstances. 3. Black women are unfeminine. 4. Black women are especially prone to criminal behavior, and 5. Black women are sexually promiscuous and irresponsible (pp. 66–67). Stereotype threats are common in all spheres of life, and they are destructive and can be painful. African American women must work hard to separate themselves from the labeling. Along these lines, a 52-year-old Black female disclosed, “Black women are seen as ‘hot in the pants,’ tough and strong, able to withstand a lot of physical and emotional abuse, unfeeling.” Continuing, she said, “I find this to be demeaning, degrading, and unproven. Yet I find myself constantly trying to dispel them” (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004, p. 1). When shifting, multiple identities or aspects of self are played out in overt and covert ways and in different situations. Motivations for shifting may be to cope, adjust, and blend, or to agitate, provoke, and lead, and so forth. A hypothesis is that the behavior of shifting is a coping mechanism learned from slavery for which the kind of shifting that white people do between their different roles (employee, parent, scholar, neighbor, etc.) cannot, and really should not, be compared. What gets summoned is the asymmetrical relationship of master/slave and how shifting may have occurred for the Black female slave in ways that were entirely unique in American history. A suggestion from Jones and Shorter-Gooden (2004), Black female shifting is rooted in historical trauma and devastating experiences of slavery (forced breeding, grueling labor, slave mothering), perhaps accounting for the impulse to constantly shift to meet expectations (and circumvent punishment?) in contemporary society. Based on research encounters with African American women (Jones and ShorterGooden 2004; Mullen and Robertson 2014), it has been revealed that they shift to 1. Battle the myths to disprove and transcend society’s misconceptions about them. 2. Scan, survey, and scrutinize the environment to monitor how they are being perceived at every turn. 3. Wall off the impact of discrimination by downplaying or ignoring sexism and racism in order to avoid the suffering they would otherwise experience. 4. Seek spiritual and emotional support through religious communities, friends, and family members to find a higher purpose and build emotional connections. 5. Retreat to the Black community and abide by home codes, seeking refuge but possibly being faced with pressure to abide by a different set of cultural conventions and codes.

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6. Fight back by directly challenging and working to overturn dynamics of racism and sexism in their lives, workplaces, or society. To return to use of language or even the sound of their voice – but one of the many areas in which African American women may shift. Consider that 58% of Black females have “changed the way they acted to fit in or be accepted by White people,” many of whom revealed that “they changed their way of speaking, toned down their mannerisms, or talked about things they felt White people were interested in” (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004, p. 96). A finding was that “Black women accommodate to the social and behavioral codes of White middle-class America” (p. 96) by altering their ways of speaking, styles of expression, and content of messages. A Black woman might use her speech patterns to fit in or, conversely, to debunk negative stereotypes. Seeking to be accepted, she might modify • the tone of her voice (e.g., so it does not come across as “too loud”) • “the rhythm of her speech” (e.g., using short, clear-cut sounds that may be disconnected from other parts of speech) • “the vocabulary she uses” (saying a colleague is “irresponsible” instead of “trifling”) (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004, p. 96) A woman who is passionate about a topic may speak quickly and loudly only to be perceived as tactless, aggressive, or volatile – a double standard. If she is opinionated about something, she is being “difficult”; if she explodes with laughter, she is “unrefined.” Black vernacular is generally viewed negatively; however, when white people use Black vernacular, they may be perceived as hip or cool (Jones and Shorter-Gooden 2004). Black slang (e.g., “gangsta” and “the bomb”) is widely appropriated and misused by non-Black populations. Black people must be heard if their struggles with shifting are to be understood, even though, paradoxically, the public may only be unevenly sympathetic at best. A classic description of Black identity by W. E. B. Du Bois (1903) conveys the struggle of a dual self and awareness of always being looked at through others’ eyes: It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others . . . One ever feels his twoness—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. (p. 2)

Being outside the mainstream but having to adapt to it while retaining their identity, Black females may exhibit double consciousness. Socially adroit and bicultural, they shift, navigating different cultures, roles, and aspects of self in a single day or at a moment’s notice (Alford and Ballenger 2012; Jones and ShorterGooden 2004; Mullen and Robertson 2014).

Shifting in School Leadership Contexts How human beings understand who we are changes with our movement in different places and contexts (Stryker and Burke 2000). A survival instinct may have long

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forced females of color, though, to navigate their (in)visibility with adroitness as members of a minoritized race who work and/or study in white organizations. School principals, among other Black female leaders and professionals, face the “visibility/ invisibility paradox” in the struggle for adaptation, empowerment, recognition, “fairness,” and “equitable recognition” (Mullen et al. 2014, p. 60). This invisibility–visibility “status” is “mirrored in their leadership within PWIs. Visibility requires that they [alter] their identities either to accommodate dominant behavioral norms outside their home codes or resist these norms” (Mullen et al. 2014, pp. 60–61). The phenomenon of shifting requires that Black female principals deal with aporia – the space between two worlds (external and internal) – demanding constant attention. The meanings attached to social, professional, and other roles played define (social) identity in the context of leading and managing schools (Mullen and Robertson 2014). The shifting Black female leaders’ experience in school leadership positions is under-theorized and largely unfamiliar (or devalued) as a concept and area of study in educational leadership. Among the contributions made, Alford and Ballenger (2012) focused on workplace responsibilities and shifts in them that impact administrators’ identities and influence school improvement, whereas Mullen and Robertson (2014) studied the shifting amongst the multiple selves of African American leaders in their school communities and how they make sense of the process. Take, for example, a hypothetical situation involving a dark-skinned African American female principal who is (perceived as) not performing as expected in her role. In this scenario, the judgment from her coworkers arose when some teachers in the school were displeased with a new state-driven policy from their district tying merit pay to students’ test scores during the COVID-19 pandemic. Stereotypes of Black people could arise as the disgruntled staff resort to racial pejoratives (e.g., the principal is being lazy and incompetent by not pushing back on upper administration to tie the stipends to other measures of teacher effectiveness). Managing the negative impressions caused by stereotype threats while navigating and changing the norms of white-dominated workplace cultures requires a certain mindset. The challenge becomes to disprove the falsehoods being rumored (implicitly about race and gender) in her interactions with subordinates while doing her job. Confronted by negative stereotypes, Black female leaders must constantly prove themselves while advocating for changes to Eurocentric organizations and learning environments (e.g., integrating BLM-inspired social justice ideas in curricula). Appearance, respectability, and class all connect. Adams-Wiggan (2010) speculated that “Blacks . . . have strongly tied personal appearance to respectability and class” (p. 13; also Brooks 2012). White or light skin is synonymous with superiority, competence, intelligence, and industriousness, while dark skin is associated with criminality, immorality, inferiority, laziness, and ignorance. Stigmas like these have plagued African American women. When seeking leadership positions and promotions, they do so bearing these stereotypes in mind. Historically, education institutions and businesses have sought Black elites who made alterations to look more Eurocentric (Adams-Wiggan 2010). Switching codes, or code-switching, these principals change their speech patterns, physical appearance, mindsets, and behaviors, alternatively reserved, open,

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watchful, formal professional, informal professional, passionate, pulled back, hybrid fe/male, self-monitoring, and other monitoring. They switch codes among multiple identities ranging from white and Black to corporate and learner centered. While we do not delve into physical alterations here, we are pointing out the extremes some take to fit into mainstream professional societies founded upon the institution of slavery and the kinds of racially laden situations encountered in the workplace. No matter the age, years of experience, school context, or school level, Black women leaders have gotten the message that they must prove themselves worthy of the title “professional.” They struggle against stereotypes of Black women (commanding, controlling, etc.) while declaring their leadership, ability, and right to “sit at the table” as equals. Black women cannot fight this alone, trying to overcome the attitude that they are of an inferior race and gender. They need mentors and allies to work alongside them and, on their behalf, to show that they are smart, reliable, and competent. Instead of being looked to for leadership and knowledge within professional circles, they must constantly prove themselves. They work tirelessly to obtain education degrees and certifications, as well as career advancement, to be well educated and accomplished. Their credentials may be slipped into conversations to show they have merit and value. Black female principals are charged with managing and improving schools, leading and empowering staff, and cultivating and ensuring academic success. They must manage their identity as they navigate workspaces, and this process is more challenging and perplexing than one might assume. Many of these administrators lead in environments where Black students may never experience a Black teacher and where Black teachers may never work for a Black administrator (Brooks 2012). A cultural vacuum prevents students from learning from role models who are the same ethnicity as themselves. In this kind of environment, school principals juggle different personae when dealing with parents, district (division) personnel, colleagues, students, parents, and others. Effectively managing and fitting their multiple selves to circumstances and stakeholders is imperative to their survival as a leader.

Educating for Critical Consciousness While “nationally 11% of principals are Black,” they are concentrated in the most challenging urban schools across the United States. These schools have the “highest administrator turnover rate” and “most significant educational problems.” With implications for their longevity as leaders, Black females often have the toughest jobs in places that other leaders avoid, “making their tenures shorter and the work more difficult” (Brooks 2012, pp. 10–12). Like Black female principals, students of color are unjustly segregated: “More than 70% of black and Latino students attend predominantly minority schools, and nearly 40% attend intensely segregated schools, where more than 90% of students are minority and most are poor” (Darling-Hammond 2012, p. 3). More Black people are poor in the USA than white people and other nonwhite groups. Specifically,

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One in four American children lives in poverty, nearly 60% more than in 1974, and the number of people living in severe poverty has reached a record high. A national study . . . found that 1 in 50 children in America is homeless and living in a shelter . . . The proportions in some school districts exceed 1 in 10, and the number is growing rapidly. (DarlingHammond 2012, p. 2)

Poverty is much worse for school communities that are segregated racially and economically. Educating for critical consciousness in educational leadership preparation programs require an awareness of trends. Statistics reveal that race compounded by class is a pervasive problem of inequity for the entire nation. Identity politics in education and school leadership is revealed through numbers, stories, and theories. Statistics underscore educational inequities in school leadership; as sources of information, they suggest trends or happenings in the world, whereas stories cultivate understanding about humankind and lived experience. Theories express foundational beliefs and fundamental truths about how the world works. Leadership students need to realize that while all leaders navigate multiple selves to deal with different situations and a variety of stakeholders, the Black female experience of shifting is uniquely steeped in systemic inequity. Numbers, stories, and theories symbolize the complexities. Through social justice interventions like difficult conversations, critical selfreflection, and informed action leadership students can be prepared to “unlearn/ reconceive and transform self and organizations” (Agans and Korach 2012, p. 227). While being confronted with social and racial injustices in their internships and new jobs, leadership students and new administrators nonetheless must bring their agency, despite feeling ill at ease or having inadequate support. Scenarios like these make the point that time spent on developing activist identities, heeding civic callings, and identifying social identity platforms is justified in leadership programs.

Developing Activist Identities School leaders can “be prepared in a way that allows for a reflective understanding of self” and that advances equity and access in systems within changing contexts (Agans and Korach 2012, p. 230). In their preparation programs, students can move to agency by grappling with such questions as how a phenomenon like identity shifting comes about, what it means, and what they might do differently (Agans and Korach 2012). They would be learning about social justice leadership for schools and influential race- and gender-specific theories (e.g., CRT and BFT). Activist leaders, informed by theory and policy, steer organizations away from reproducing racism, sexism, and mechanisms that disenfranchise vulnerable populations (Nieuwenhuizen and Brooks 2013; Theoharis 2007). For example, a dismantling of sorting mechanisms has occurred in schools to help break the cycle of poverty in families and encourage vulnerable students to stay in school, prepare for

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twenty-first century jobs and careers, and embrace lifelong learning. Theoharis (2007) educates for critical consciousness by demonstrating what social justice principals like this do in schools. Their risk-taking is guided by policy–advocacy orientations like resisting “all tracking or segregation models” for moral reasons and opposing deficit thinking about students from diverse backgrounds (p. 234). The principals in his study put their beliefs into practice, changing structures to bring about inclusive programming in their schools supportive of minoritized students’ success and systems that are just. Understanding antiracist and other theories, being willing to draw outside conventional lines, allowing for uncertainty and ambiguity, and doing work that is controversial, risky, and messy inhere in justice-infused leadership. Building capacity in high-poverty school communities can lift families and reduce poverty. Poverty is passed on within families. Single Black mothers to whom three-quarters of children are born endure sexist and racial bigotry while contending with greatly reduced economic prospects, school attrition, and other obstacles (Giddings 1984). Racial and sexist prejudice combined with systemic repercussions from institutional slavery is a Black female’s heritage. In response, “school leaders have a duty and an ethical responsibility to [proactively] interrogate systems, organizational frameworks, and leadership theories that privilege certain groups and/or perspectives over others” (Nieuwenhuizen and Brooks 2013, p. 197). Beginning with the self, “who are we as ourselves?” asked Black activist Giddings (1984, p. 6). Her cultural identity question is timeless – it can inform the curriculum of leadership preparation programs. To her, conservative elements of the Black community, including overly protective males, get in the way of Black women progressing on their own terms. She implored Black women to seek an identity that is not chiefly attached to males, families, communities, and employers. But she also recognized Black women as “possessing a breathtaking sense of urgency” and at times being most impressive in their capacity to prove their worth and have influence in significant ways (p. 6). Much work lies ahead. The search is “for a new element, something that in a way is less familiar to us – ourselves,” from Giddings’ (1984, p. 6) perspective. The paradox she returns to is that it is by engaging in this very search that Black women can reconnect more powerfully with their significant others and communities and be best equipped to lead reform. If identity is the mind, agency is the muscle that serves identity. Critical social justice advocacy for school leaders today involves equity and antiracist leadership. Interrogating the status quo can disrupt practices that allow leaders to reproduce themselves in leaders of the same race, gender, sexuality, and so forth (Nieuwenhuizen and Brooks 2013). Stagnant cultures and in-breeding perpetuate abuses of power and deplete opportunities for women of color to educate and lead by, for example, creating conditions that support students living in poverty, preparing and mentoring students for lifelong success, and turning around schools struggling with academic performance. However, it is a violation of equity and access to narrow the placement of Black female leaders to concentrated poverty areas. Activism as an educational intervention can make schools more equitable, accessible, and inclusive, both relationally and organizationally, through deliberate,

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action-oriented strategies. The goal is to educate for critical consciousness in hiring and promotional practices, professional development (PD) and mentoring, leadership preparation and certifications, and equity-oriented systems (Theoharis and Haddix 2013). Rites of passage are actionable steps in antiracist school leadership literature: (1) leadership aspirants should know about “race and racism in our society and how it impacts our educational system” and (2) “school leaders have a duty and an ethical responsibility to interrogate systems, organizational frameworks, and leadership theories that privilege certain groups and/or perspectives over others” (Nieuwenhuizen and Brooks 2013, p. 197). A third rite of passage comes to mind: Leaders must understand the role of identity politics in socializing leaders to norms and expectations, with the gravity of shifting as a coping mechanism for Black females that is historically, culturally, and politically layered (Mullen and Robertson 2014).

Heeding Civic Callings Based on what we have shared about Black female principals’ constructions of identity and navigation of multiple identities at work, certain points are salient. • School leaders need to comprehend leadership identity navigation, largely because of the politics and power associated with the field of education. For example, many may not be aware of influences on identity and unconscious impulses to shift roles and selves. • Programs that prepare individuals for the principalship should acknowledge the many challenges building-level leaders typically face related to equity and diversity. These programs may also need to help aspiring leaders develop a moral compass and set of ethics for navigating such barriers and changing systemic roadblocks. • Leaders should recognize the concept and practice of shifting as it pertains generally to leaders and specifically to themselves and people of color. To develop as antiracist leaders, they will want to come to terms with the intersectionality of Black female identity and leadership. • Aspiring principals should develop a strong advocacy orientation toward women of color as leaders of school communities and districts in desirable locations. Devising actionable strategies for cultivating societal change in this direction would be a next step. • Leaders can promote PD interventions for their school cultures targeting social justice topics (e.g., cultural responsiveness in curriculum) as a foundation for antiracist education in a global economy. Social justice principals are actively resisting educational inequities, creatively using policy, and changing workplace cultures (e.g., Adams-Wiggan 2010; Brooks 2012; Mullen and Robertson 2014; Murakami and Hernandez 2013; Theoharis and

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Haddix 2013). Such research sources provide a wealth of ideas for developing educational leadership programs that foster critical thinking and reflection, and ethical leadership and advocacy. Critical thinking in the preparation of school leaders targets, for example, how white privilege works in perpetuating the lower status conferred upon minoritized leaders and high-poverty schools and how to collectively change this reality, making their status equal to others. Murakami and Hernandez (2013) also emphasized that the identity development of minoritized principals (i.e., Latina/o leaders) involves many factors, including cultural sensitivity, career support, and mentoring.

Naming Social Identity Platforms While stories can make a difference, as demonstrated in recent times through the BLM movement, many more stories are needed to move cross-race, cross-gender understanding from a personal platform of communication to interconnected social, political, and global platforms. Solidarity that is respectful of differences is the goal within an increasingly diverse world. From this perspective, caution is to be exercised not only around generalizations of leaders of color but also of white leaders: “Not all White school leaders are the same: they are different by other factors including class, gender, language, sexual orientation, and regional affiliations” (Theoharis and Haddix 2013, p. 15). By making perceptive differentiations, they argued, monolithic (and stereotypical) treatments of white populations and whiteness are replaced by nuanced treatments. Also, the social justice platform of white leaders of schools around racism, sexism, inequity, and inhumanity at times manifests as action and activism, and resistance and change. Theoharis and Haddix’s (2013) study-based illustration is but one that reveals understanding by white principals of the importance of educating for critical consciousness schoolwide and by taking such action. Actions taken included disbanding practices that marginalize students of color in special programs and through unfair disciplinary procedures, such as referrals. As a logical extension of this stance, not all PWIs have the same social identity either. PWIs that take diversity initiatives seriously and that intentionally enact the kinds of tenets described by Theoharis and Haddix (2013) – schoolwide racial awareness, collective action and activism, and interventionist education around racism, sexism, inequity, and inhumanity – perform advocacy founded on the common good. The common good is the bedrock of many educational leadership programs, certainly those in land grant and minority-serving institutions. The field of educational leadership has gone global and the social identity of principals is becoming that much more complex and uncertain. Goals are to include excluded groups in meaning making and agency, and action and activism at an entirely new level. Even though social justice, antiracist work will continue to be very difficult and imperfect, it cannot be overstated that at its core it is about basic human rights. Recovering Black female’s voices is essential for building a

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framework of understanding and action, and a social conscience that extends to every woman and child, everywhere.

Conclusion Alternative theories and antiracist social justice practices were discussed in this chapter. A treatment was undertaken of CRT, BFT, and identity theory, with illustrations in higher education and school leadership. Black education and, more broadly, antiracist leadership was the lens used. African American females in education were the main stakeholder considered and in their various and important roles. In this broad context, aspects of Black female identity and leadership were unpacked. Theorizing about identity politics in education and school leadership was undertaken in the spirit of seeking to educate about important and influential theories. Each of the theories discussed is relevant to education in and beyond the schoolhouse and as expressed through social movements. Finally, educating for critical consciousness in leadership preparation was discussed in relation to developing activist identities, heeding civic callings, and naming social identity platforms.

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Mungo, S. (2013). Our own communities, our own schools: Educational counter narratives of African American civil rights generation students. The Journal of Negro Education, 82(2), 111–122. Murakami, E. T., & Hernandez, F. (2013). Latina/o educational leaders. In J. S. Brooks & N. Witherspoon Arnold (Eds.), Antiracist school leadership: Toward equity in education for America’s students (pp. 49–74). Charlotte: Information Age Publishing. Nieuwenhuizen, L., & Brooks, J. S. (2013). The assistant principal’s duties, training, and challenges: From color-blind to a critical race perspective. In J. S. Brooks & N. Witherspoon Arnold (Eds.), Antiracist school leadership: Toward equity in education for America’s students (pp. 185–209). Charlotte: Information Age Publishing. Simien, E. M. (2004). Black feminist theory: Charting a course for Black women’s studies in political science. Women & Politics, 26(2), 81–93. Solórzano, D., & Yosso, T. (2002). Critical race methodology: Counter-storytelling as an analytical framework for education research. Qualitative Inquiry, 8(1), 23–44. Stanley, C. A. (2007). When counter narratives meet master narratives in the journal editorial review process. Educational Researcher, 36(1), 14–24. Stryker, S., & Burke, P. (2000). The past, present, and future of identity theory. Social Psychology Quarterly, 63, 284–297. Tate, W. F., IV. (1997). Critical race theory and education: History, theory, and implications. Review of Research in Education, 22, 195–247. Theoharis, G. (2007). Social justice educational leaders and resistance: Toward a theory of social justice leadership. Educational Administration Quarterly, 43(2), 221–258. Theoharis, G., & Haddix, M. (2013). White principals and race-conscious leadership. In J. S. Brooks & N. Witherspoon Arnold (Eds.), Antiracist school leadership: Toward equity in education for America’s students (pp. 1–18). Charlotte: Information Age Publishing. Vaught, S. E., & Castagno, A. E. (2008). “I don’t think I’m a racist”: Critical race theory, teacher attitudes, and structural racism. Race Ethnicity and Education, 11(2), 95–113. Woodson, C. G. (1933/2010). The mis-education of the Negro. Emeryville: Seven Treasures Publications.

Part II Interventions and Explorations in Leadership

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Peer Equity Coaching: Socially Just, Transformative Adult Learning Mary A. Bussman and Karen Seashore Louis

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Problem and Need for Equity Coaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Investigation into Peer Equity Coaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Research Framework . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implicit Bias and Mind-Set . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cultural Responsiveness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adult Learning Theory, Transformative Learning, and Critical Self-Reflection . . . . . . . . . . . Organizational Learning and Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Is Peer Equity Coaching? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Role of Equity Coaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Training . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Administrative Leadership and Organizational Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Socially Just, Transformative Adult Learning through Peer Equity Coaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . From Authority to Navigator of Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Listening to Student Voice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Black Lives Matter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Deeper Sense of Safety for Teachers of Color . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Impact of Equity Coaching in Johnson Public Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Transformative Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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M. A. Bussman (*) University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, USA e-mail: [email protected] K. S. Louis Department of Organizational Leadership, Policy, and Development, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_77

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Transparency and Teacher-Driven Coaching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Disruptive Individual Leadership Was Critical . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recommendations for Future Equity Coaching Programs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Race, culture, status, and power influence many daily interactions in schools. Research suggests that these may contribute to a relationship gap between students of color and teachers that has a subsequent influence on students’ learning. This is, in part, due to limited acknowledgment of implicit bias, discomfort/avoidance, or systemic racism. This qualitative case study examines one effort to moderate these effects, a peer equity coaching initiative that sought to increase teachers’ racial consciousness and cultural responsiveness. In particular, this study examined whether (1) equity coaching led to transformative learning that supported cultural responsiveness on the part of adults; (2) leadership behaviors and actions contributed to its success; and (3) collective organizational learning or systemic change emerged. Data were gathered in conversational interviews with teachers, peer equity coaches, school administrators, and district administrators. The study found that significant transformative learning for individuals and for the organization occurred through peer equity coaching, that support for teachers of color increased as a result of organizational learning, and that culturally responsive administrative leadership substantially increased teacher involvement and development of cultural responsiveness. Keywords

Equity coaching · Culturally responsive teaching · Equity and education · Peer coaching

Introduction Peer equity coaching is a process for teachers and school leaders to actively selfreflect on race and implicit bias guided by a supportive, collegial coach. The intent is to increase cultural responsiveness and anti-oppressive teaching and decision-making in schools. Because teachers and leaders increase their own capacity for critical self-reflection regarding race and culture, equity coaching can be a tool to increase equitable opportunities and academic success for children of color and Native American children. In the end, the goal is to transform the reflective practices in order to build stronger cross-cultural relationships among members of the school community. Transformative adult learning, as described by Mezirow (1997), is a “process of effecting change in a frame of reference” (p. 5) sometimes brought on by an experience that creates a disorienting dilemma (Calleja 2014; Mezirow 1997) or a new awareness of an assumption not previously recognized (Brown 2006).

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Disorienting events or a sense of disequilibrium provides the learner with a chance to reflect on the experience. In a multi-level case study of equity coaching in the Johnson Public Schools (a pseudonym), a first-ring suburb in which 40% of the students were identified as Native American or people of color, we found that equity coaching provided a supportive process for teachers to reflect with their coaches about their socialization regarding race. With whom did they go to school, church, or shop? What jokes were told in their families and are those same jokes still funny? Were people of color viewed as leaders? What messages about safety or violence were shared and how did that impact their assumptions about their students? Was race talked about at all, or were messages implicit? Discussing these questions along with communication styles, core values, cultural norms, and ways of being increased teachers’ capacity to see multiple perspectives as well as personal biases in their classrooms. When critical self-reflection resulted in a shift in the teacher’s frame of reference, teachers could act in more culturally responsive ways and ultimately change the trajectory of students’ and families’ engagement and overall success. We begin with two stories told by equity coaches in Johnson Public Schools that describe transformative moments for teachers. These stories point to changes in frames of reference that impact how teachers interact with their students and what they teach. Shifting Pedagogic Lenses

An equity coach recalled a teacher who was resistant to coaching and any professional development focused on racial and cultural equity. This teacher had walked out of racial equity trainings and publicly voiced concerns about Black Lives Matter as a movement because her White son’s life mattered too. The coach observed this and developed a relationship with the teacher throughout the school year, just listening and getting to know one another. The equity coach said: “And then whenever I’d do an observation, I would tally things. I would tally how many times she called on boys of color, girls of color, how many times she would correct them, how many times she’d say something positive. And I remember we had a really powerful post-observation where I showed her the data. She’d given a lot of negative feedback to one Black girl and then a lot of positive to a lot of White kids. I showed the tally sheet to her, and she was like, ‘Oh my God, I didn’t even realize I was doing that!’ And I was able to say, ‘And how do you think that feels to her?’ She said, ‘It probably feels horrible.’ And then she’s like, ‘I really don’t like her!’ She’s like, ‘I just don’t like her, and her mom doesn’t care about her.’ She had beliefs that her mom didn’t care about school. But, because I had loved her for this whole year and listened. . .once we got to that point, we went right in. OK, let’s look at that belief. Let’s go look at this. And she was changing beliefs, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. And now, you know, this year it’s been a really different experience coaching her because she’s just much more open. . . And, she just said to me the other day in passing, ‘You know, people of color have to deal with so much racism all the time. I don’t even understand it.’”

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The teacher in this moment saw in the tally marks how her unconscious assumptions about one African American girl was having a negative impact on the child. And, because of the trusting collegial relationship, the teacher chose to reflect through critical discourse to change her interactions with the student and her assumptions about the family. This was the transformative catalyst for this teacher to engage in further developing her own racial consciousness. A second story illustrates the work of an equity coach in examining curriculum for dominant and absented narratives in published textbooks.

Who Is Missing?

An equity coach shared the following transformative pre-conference meeting with an intermediate elementary teacher: “The teacher was teaching social studies by the book. . . and we were talking about the next lesson [about the design of Washington D.C], and I said, ‘So speak to me about what some of the missing perspectives are in this.’ And she said, ‘Well, I don’t know, women and whatever.’ And I said, ‘In regard to race. What do you know about our nation’s history in regards to who is responsible for building and creating that?’ And it just got her to really think. She replied, ‘I don’t really know.’ And I said, ‘Do you know who Benjamin Banneker is?’ And she said, ‘No, I’ve never heard that name in my whole life.’ And I said, ‘I want to invite you to do some research on who he was, and just reflect on how you’re feeling about hearing that name for the first time. And, let’s meet again tomorrow and let’s talk about how we can place him at the center of this lesson.’ And she did. And she came back and was like, ‘Oh my God, I’m so emotional because I didn’t know! And so, what else do I not know? And how do I find it out?’... Because, as she learned more about Benjamin Banneker and his work and creating the blueprint for Washington D.C., that became the center of her lesson. And now, she’s like, ‘Who else do I need to make the center of my lesson?’ She’s taking it one lesson and one step at a time instead of like, ‘Oh my gosh. I didn’t know that I didn’t know all of this and I’m feeling guilty.’” The equity coach then described the post-conference discussion following the lesson. Not only did the teacher discover the contributions of Benjamin Banneker, the students experienced a similar discovery of their implicit biases. The teacher said, “The students were predominantly White and, at one point during the lesson, one student interrupted the teacher me and said, ‘Wait. This was a Black man who did all this?’ And I didn’t know and I never heard of him. And they are eleven!’”

In this example, students learned an expanded narrative of how the city of Washington, D.C., was designed, centering the contribution of Benjamin Banneker alongside the work of Pierre L’Enfant, most often cited as the city’s designer. These 11-year-olds interrupted their implicitly biased expectation of social status by

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learning that Benjamin Banneker, a son of formerly enslaved people, was a major contributor to American history. This is transformative learning for both adults and students. To follow up on these examples, we will set the need for equity coaching in the present and historical context of student achievement. We then briefly review the literature that helped us to frame the study. Following this overview, we will describe equity coaching and its impact not only on individuals but also on the organization.

The Problem and Need for Equity Coaching According to Gloria Ladson-Billings (2006), the current attainment gap of minoritized youth results from a multi-generational education debt emerging from lack of access, resources, concern, and disenfranchisement of people of color and Native Americans. The lack of teachers whose race mirrors that of the students they teach also contributes to the gap (Egalite et al. 2015), which raises the question of whether a relationship gap between students and teachers is due to implicit bias, lack of racial consciousness, and limited cultural responsiveness (Deyhle and LeCompte 1994; Lareau 1987; Ridgeway 2014; Singleton and Linton 2006; Yosso 2005). If a relationship gap exists, how is it manifested in the classroom and in school policies and practices? DiAngelo (2018) describes how White socialization experiences emphasize individualism and objectivity: beliefs that each person is “unique and stand apart from others, even within our social groups. . .and that it is possible to be free of all bias” (p. 9). This contributes to an inability to talk seriously about race due to stress and emotional responses. The effect is to diminish the capacity for self-reflection and transformative change. By avoiding or discounting another’s experience, insights into their racial realities are tenuous, and the status quo narrative remains intact. Our two stories demonstrate how teachers’ unquestioned acceptance of a dominant narrative can limit opportunities for minoritized students and how thin disciplinary knowledge precludes exposing students to a broader understanding that includes all groups. Developing stamina to talk about the impact of race and culture in our classrooms is a socially just action.

The Investigation into Peer Equity Coaching The first author of this chapter, a White female, was a public school principal for 11 years, where she observed a similar pattern in several schools: some teachers struggled with students of color. Black youth, in particular, spent more time excluded from a few teachers’ classrooms than in them, while the same students were often successful in other teachers’ classes. Discussing racialized patterns with individual teachers, accompanied by offered and provided training, did not change teacher practice. I was unable to confront the status barrier between principal and teacher, White fragility, and readiness for learning about the impact of racial bias.

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A search for schools and districts effectively confronting racial gaps led to the peer equity coaching program in the Johnson Public Schools (JPS). It was apparent that this was an opportunity to study a different way to address both the visible and less visible aspects of racial bias in classrooms. Peer equity coaching in JPS is an effort to address equitable student experiences by supporting individual and collective awareness of the ways in which race and implicit bias impact classroom relationships. The locally developed model assumes that equity coaching requires not only well-prepared coaches but also engaged and sustained leadership, supportive policies, and resource allocation. Conversations with the superintendent suggested a long-term commitment to a particular strategy for addressing inequities in experience and learning outcomes rather than a “reform de jour.” The JPS administrative team supported an investigation to understand equity coaching’s impact on individual and organizational understanding of cultural responsiveness. The study was premised on the assumption that significant change in classroom relationships and an organizational focus on equitable relationships requires transformative learning that changes teachers’ and administrators’ frames of reference through “critical reflection on the assumptions upon which our interpretations, beliefs, and habits of mind or points of view are based” (Mezirow 1997, p. 7). Three questions guided the study: 1. What is the nature of a peer equity coaching conversation and does it lead to transformative adult learning? 2. How can administrative leadership foster organizational learning through peer equity coaching programs? 3. Is there evidence that peer equity coaching could affect systemic change in the capacity to create equitable learning environments for students of color and Native American students?

Setting Johnson Public Schools is a diverse first-ring suburban public school district with an enrollment of nearly 5,000 students. Since 2005, JPS used peer observation as part of its teacher development through the state’s alternative teacher professional pay system (ATPPS). During the 2012–2013 school year, the high school piloted an optional model in which two peer equity coaches provided feedback to develop teachers’ cultural self-awareness, culturally responsive pedagogy, and curriculum. In addition to peer coaching, equity coaches modeled lessons and provided professional learning for groups of staff. With support from the teacher union, the equity coaching initiative expanded each year and was adopted as the district-wide program for teacher development with nine peer equity coaches during the 2016–2017 school year, the year of this study. The primary sources of data were 39 semi-structured interviews with 11 secondary and 9 elementary teachers, 7 of the 9 equity coaches and 1 former equity coach, 7 of 8 school administrators, and 4 district administrators. Though the study was not a complete grounded theory investigation, the constant comparative method (Glaser

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and Strauss 1967) was used to analyze the data using a qualitative analysis software program to assign and sort codes. To check for accuracy and to remain sensitive to the participants, initial theories and reporting were verified with the participants prior to publication (Miles and Huberman 1994).

Research Framework The sensitizing framework (Bowen 2006) guiding this study was developed from three distinct research strands: (1) implicit bias, mind-set, and cultural responsiveness; (2) adult learning theory, tranformative learning, and critical self-reflection; and (3) organizational learning, leadership, and peer coaching. A short discussion of related research follows.

Implicit Bias and Mind-Set Implicit biases, mental models, mind-sets, stereotyping, and racism influence each person’s actions and reactions, often unconsciously (Banaji and Greenwald 2013; Dweck 2000; Khalifa et al. 2016; Larrivee 2000; Ridgeway 2014; Singleton and Linton 2006). Banaji and Greenwald (2013) describe the mind as an “automatic association-making machine” that links new words, pictures, faces, or actions with prior experiences and implicit biases as “ingrained habits of thought that lead to errors in how we perceive, remember, reason, and make decisions” (p. 4). Larrivee (2000) envisions personal actions as filtered through multiple screens, each which holds past experiences, beliefs, assumptions, expectations, the individual’s feelings and mood, and personal agendas and aspirations. Each filter influences an individual’s choice of response. One filter, a fixed or growth mind-set, is associated with grades and achievement test scores (Good et al. 2003), and also perceptions of others. Individuals with fixed mind-sets are confident in quickly judging others’ abilities and personalities, which means “Once they have decided that someone is or is not capable, they are not very open to new information to the contrary. And they may not mentor people whom they have decided are not capable” (Dweck 2010, p. 28). A second filter is membership in a dominant social group, which is associated with hidden biases and the assumption that status quo provides equal opportunity (Banaji and Greenwald 2013; Devine et al. 2012; DiAngelo 2018; Feagin 2013; Johnson 2001; Khalifa et al. 2014). When stereotypes, protocols, classroom rules, and district policy are based upon these hidden assumptions and remain unquestioned, the status quo remains intact.

Cultural Responsiveness There are multiple perspectives on culture, intercultural interactions, and cultural responsiveness. We begin with Hammond’s (2015) contention that culture is part of

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“the way that every brain makes sense of the world” (p. 22). Writing about teaching, Gay (2010) contends that, “racial, ethnic, and cultural attitudes and beliefs are always present, often problematic, and profoundly significant in shaping teaching conceptions and actions” (p. 143). Deyhle and LeCompte (1994) identify the importance of membership and boundaries in culture: . . . cultural boundaries can become politically charged when the ideas of one group are granted more legitimacy than those of another group, or are imposed on others. Under these circumstances, cultural boundaries become cultural borders and serve as the genesis of misunderstanding, abuse of power, and oppression. (pp. 156–157)

Singleton and Linton (2006) argue that race is particularly important in navigating cultural boundaries and focus on racial consciousness, or the degree of awareness of knowing “how and when race permeates personal and professional interactions” (p. 77). Bringing implicit racial and cultural biases to consciousness is the first step of becoming more culturally responsive educators (Brown 2006; Devine et al. 2012; Gay (2010); Khalifa et al. 2016; Ladson-Billings 1995; Singleton and Linton 2006; Sleeter 2001). Other authors see intercultural competence as a continuum of ability to cross boundaries and to engage in intercultural interactions (Bennett and Bennett 2004; Van Oudenhoven and Benet-Martnez 2015). Developing intercultural competence through an understanding of one’s personal culture in relationship to others’ cultures can assist in navigating these cultural boundaries. In a review of culturally responsive school leadership, Khalifa et al. (2016) found the term cultural responsiveness to be used most consistently and emphasize that responsiveness requires action on the part of the educator. Ladson-Billings (1995) identifies three components of culturally responsive teaching as the conceptions of self and others, the structure of social relations, and the conceptions of knowledge. Gay (2010) states that to become culturally responsive teachers “need to confront their attitudes and beliefs as well as develop content knowledge bases, pedagogical skills, and interactional abilities for teaching culturally diverse curriculum and students” (p. 150). To be culturally responsive, educators must seek to expand their cultural responsiveness and racial consciousness while also developing curricular knowledge, pedagogical skills, and an inclusive community.

Adult Learning Theory, Transformative Learning, and Critical SelfReflection Many of us grow up in cultural cocoons with limited access to the lived culture of groups and cultures that are very different from our own. This means that adults need to learn how to cross cultural boundaries in a responsive and open way. Knowles et al. (2014) identified six preconditions of adult learning: the learner’s need to know, selfconcept, prior experiences, readiness to learn, orientation to learning, and motivation. Adults must also feel a sense of physical, emotional, and social safety (Hammond 2015; Sousa 2011), which may be particularly critical when considering the complex

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and often painful subject of race. Knowles et al. (2014) summarize the findings of recent brain research: . . . any sensory input that is perceived as a threat sends a rush of adrenaline to the brain and focuses the brain on those stimuli and blocks other stimuli. Similarly, emotional data take a high priority. When an individual responds emotionally, the complex rational processes are shut down and the limbic system takes over. . . (220–221)

Hammond (2015) describes this reaction as an amygdala hijack which, according to DiAngelo (2018), can occur when discomfort in talking about race is so great that it impedes discourse and critical self-reflection. Peer equity coaches balance the process of pushing individuals to be critically self-reflective regarding racial understanding and bias without activating levels of discomfort that would push them out of the room. Mezirow (1997) defines transformative learning as a “process of effecting change in a frame of reference” (p. 5). Transformative adult educators combine the andragogical assumptions of experience, self-reflection, and discourse with action opportunities: An experience that creates a disorienting dilemma is key to transformative learning (Calleja 2014; Mezirow 1997), where adults become aware of a unrecognized assumption (Brown 2006). In classrooms and schools, unexpected interactions may create a disorienting dilemma that, with critical self-reflection and discourse, provide opportunities for adults to shift their frames of reference (Brookfield 1995; Hammond 2015; Larrivee 2000; Mezirow 1997). Adult educators, peer equity coaches, and researchers make the case for multiple teaching methods to combine critical reflection and dialogue (Brown 2006; Cochran-Smith 2000; Devine et al. 2012; Gay (2010); Gooden and Dantley 2012; Hines and Atherton 2015; Sleeter 2001). The process of becoming aware and then engaging in reflection with dialogue can lead to transformative learning at both the individual and group level.

Organizational Learning and Leadership Organizations are social systems whose cultures are the learned patterns of behavior passed within the organization (Knowles et al. 2014; Schein 2010). Louis and Lee (2016) found that capacity for organizational learning increased when teachers’ professional communities exhibit reflective dialogue, de-privatized practice, and shared responsibility. Organizational learning requires alignment among those things the “organization systematically pays attention to” (Schein 2010). Transformative learning and leadership – the practice of critical self-awareness, personal and dialogic reflection, and action based upon that reflection – is essential to increasing organizational learning regarding cultural responsiveness (Hammond 2015; Hewitt et al. 2014; Khalifa et al. 2016; Shields 2010). There is consensus that leadership is critical to guide schools toward their desired outcomes (Leithwood et al. 2004). Leadership shapes organizational culture and has

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long been linked with organizational learning and the school’s capacity to change (Leithwood and Louis 1998; Ylimaki and Jacobson 2013). As individuals become more culturally responsive, leaders have the opportunity to become prominent guides for organizations to become more culturally responsive. Leadership that can transform exhibits significant vision, high expectations, and the development of consensus in an intellectually stimulating environment (Firestone and Louis 1999). Hewitt et al. (2014) write, “The transformational leader is reform-minded but not a revolutionary, whereas the transformative leader interrogates and seeks to disrupt that which is taken for granted” (p. 229), while Shields (2010) points to transformative leadership as challenging inappropriate uses of power. Transformative leadership is, according to Khalifa et al. (2016), linked to culture, through four behaviors of culturally responsive school leaders: critical selfawareness, culturally responsive curricula and teacher learning, developing culturally responsive and inclusive school environments, and engaging students and parents in community contexts. All of these are relatively new expectations for school leaders.

What Is Peer Equity Coaching? Peer coaching is consistently found to be a highly effective form of professional development (Ackland 1991; Cornett and Knight 2009; Edwards and Newton 1995; Huston and Weaver 2007; Joyce and Showers 1980; Woulfin 2014). It is nonevaluative, based on trusting relationships, focused on student learning, contextbased, and informed by critical reflection (Ackland 1991; Cornett and Knight 2009; Huston and Weaver 2007; Knight et al. 2015; Wong and Nicotera 2003; Woulfin 2014). Peer equity coaching is a process that increases educators’ stamina to talk about race in our schools by supporting individuals in becoming conscious of their socialization, implicit biases and mental models, and the impact of their actions, words, tones of voice, curricular content, instructional choices, and policies and practices within a racial context. The goal is transformative learning and, with increased racial consciousness, more socially just, equitable behaviors that engage every family and every learner. Equity coaching must take into account the individual’s life experience and context, provide opportunity for reflection, and engage the learner in discussion with others (Knowles et al. 2014; Mezirow 1997). Sometimes, deep learning occurs after an event creates disorientation (Calleja 2014; Mezirow 1997), but disequilibrium can also be incremental, occurring over time through critical reflection and discourse. The more challenging the learning, the more critical the unique elements of the individual and their context become. This is obviously the case when adults are confronted with implicit racial or cultural biases not previously considered. In this case, change may require cultivating cultural knowledge through an array of experiences, and by positioning others’ experience in the context of social and

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political events (Brown 2006; Cochran-Smith 2000; Devine et al. 2012; Gooden and Dantley 2012; Hines and Atherton 2015; Sleeter 2001).

Role of Equity Coaches Equity coaching in JPS provided varied opportunities for adult learning regarding race and cultural responsiveness. The coaches’ primary role was to meet with 40 to 45 volunteer teachers in assigned schools throughout the school year. This involved formal observations with teacher conferencing and documentation submitted to the alternative teacher professional pay system (ATPPS) coordinator. Administrators did not receive or review any of this feedback. Equity coaches were also available to consult with teachers in planning or to review a particular classroom interaction at any time. In addition, equity coaches provided professional learning opportunities for faculty and staff. They hosted book discussion groups as well as voluntary training to practice “courageous conversations” about racial equity using relevant articles or current events. Equity coaches also served on either district or building staff development committees, and six of the nine were trained facilitators for the Pacific Educational Group’s Beyond Diversity workshops, leading 2-day sessions for JPS and other school districts. While equity coaches had defined duties, their mission was to disrupt racism and create systemic change. One equity coach, when asked what they loved about being an equity coach, quoted the job description stating, “To develop will, skills, and capacity of educators in order to disrupt racism in order to impact and improve the achievement and experiences of students.” The coach continued by saying, “And, when I focus on that, it doesn’t mean just coaching. It means looking at our systems, looking at our structures, looking at our policies and asking questions about those things too.” Equity coaches were often seen as individuals with an open door, where teachers, staff, or administrators could talk through their experiences in a supportive space.

Training Training to become an equity coach varied, but applicants were to have demonstrated culturally responsive, effective teaching in their own classrooms. As described in the literature cited above, culturally responsive teaching starts with critical awareness of self, and, in order to assist others in recognizing cultural and racial barriers to equitable education, equity coaches first developed their own skills in critical self-reflection. As a team, they examined their socialization around race, including their formative years and past experiences. They wrote their own racial autobiographies to highlight their own deeply held beliefs, implicit biases, socialization, and cultural values that shaped their actions and responses.

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All peer equity coaches were trained through two levels of Beyond Diversity with the Pacific Educational Group (PEG). All used the Courageous Conversations About Race (Singleton and Linton 2006) protocols, which were the framework for each coaching conversation and staff training. Several equity coaches received additional training through PEG, and others had mindful inquiry training with Lee Mun Wah. The first three equity coaches also trained with Jamie Almanzán, a consultant who guided the district’s development of the program and trained coaches in their use of powerful questions. One coach stated that “Almanzán helped me to understand coaching . . . Because, there is a temptation to go in and say, ‘Well, you should do this, this and this.’ It takes more reflection and intention to think, ‘How could I ask a question that is going to invite this teacher to really look at what they’re doing?’” Two of the first three equity coaches attended instructional coaching training with Jim Knight.

The Process Using questions to build trust and to understand individuals’ receptivity to developing racial consciousness was the cornerstone of the peer equity coaches’ work. The coach’s goal was to develop relationships that would allow teachers to excavate their personal understanding of their own racial and cultural selves. A description of growth in racial consciousness through the use of questions to guide reflection follows. Equity coaches met with each of their assigned teachers twice annually for a formal observation, including a pre-conference, observation of a class, and postconference. They also met informally on request to answer questions or to reflect on new experiences. All of these meetings were, as several equity coaches discussed, part of consciously building trust while assessing teachers’ receptivity to selfreflection around racial and cultural consciousness. As one coach described the process, “I go out and just try to really see people for who they are, and try to build a connection and a relationship so we have some sort of foundation to really dig in and do some meaningful work.” Another said, “I think it’s kind of being the truth teller, but doing it in a way that doesn’t shut everybody down on the route there. As soon as someone doesn’t feel safe or heard or valued, they’re out.” One equity coach started post-observation conversations with “‘How do you feel that went?’ because the teacher often brings forward their own reflections.” Another stated they used the phrase, “Tell me your beliefs around that [event/interaction]. . . to. . . get them to name. . .where they’re coming from.” Another asked, “What are your thoughts about this?” “What is your role in this?” These open questions fostered relationships that led to teachers’ reflection on racial and cultural consciousness, which could lead to a shift in relationships with their students, curriculum, and pedagogy, as shown in our first two stories. Coaches described their techniques to target reflection on pedagogy and curriculum. One described topics they wanted teachers to ask themselves in planning culturally responsive pedagogy:

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Who gets taught? [What’s the] level of questioning? That’s a big one. Who’s required to critically think [about the] connection of content to students’ lives? Teacher talk time versus student talk time is huge. And I see that as teachers wanting students to know the knowledge, and we know from studies that when we get students talking on content, they learn more. [And] who gets sent to the behavior room?

The same equity coach described the constant internal feedback loop each teacher must engage in order to be culturally responsive. Along with teaching the content: . . . I need to constantly be examining my biases. And sometimes our biases can fall along skin color, sometimes they can fall along gender, sometimes those biases can fall along like, “Hey I have three vocal students in my class and it’s just easier to respond to them.” And I feel like I’m getting feedback, and I literally can’t process thirty-seven faces at one time. And so, until I can shift that in my mind, and I can pause and I’ve checked in . . .I might be teaching to just three students.

In both of these examples, the equity coach described how culturally responsive teachers used a process of internal monitoring while simultaneously teaching. Another equity coach described a different pedagogical choice. The teacher decided to ask students to notice what they saw in the textbook pictures prior to teaching content. The equity coach said, “Her process was getting kids to name what they notice. ‘Here are all the presidents of the United States in the back of your social studies books. What do you notice?’” The scary part for the teacher was the unpredictability of the student discussion – whether the students would name the obvious characteristic that all US presidents were White men until 2008, and what their follow-up questions might include. The equity coach helped the teacher plan for the discussion and accept not having all the answers. Another equity coach described a discussion after a teacher began to reflect on a negative student response to a lesson. The coach asked, “What was the impact on your students and how do you know? What did you hear or see? What did you hear or see from your students of color? And if you don’t know, how do you find out?” These questions led the teacher to an action: The teacher needed to understand why the students’ response was so negative, and the way to do that was to ask the students. Equity coaches guided teachers to become self-reflective about their own racial and cultural experiences and to use self-knowledge to increase student voice, develop authentic student-teacher relationships, and increase cultural responsiveness through pedagogy and curriculum. They showed teachers the value of engaging a continuous feedback loop, noticing what is happening real time in their classrooms and monitoring their responses through a lens of equity.

Administrative Leadership and Organizational Learning Teachers were not the only ones who engaged with peer equity coaching. Administrators in JPS promoted and supported equity coaching, and most participated in

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their own culturally responsive development through critical self-reflection. Every administrator described significant changes in teacher behavior that affected the building climate or culture of the staff. One principal said: I can remember when people started the racial equity journey. It was still about how we were going to transform children. . . In the last three to four years, we have made this “aha” that it’s not about that. It is all about me. . .“Where am in I in my own racial experience and how does that look?” And, “This is the child’s school and they’re not changing. Nor should they change.”

Leading a racial equity journey, according to several administrators and principals, required their own personal, transformative learning. A principal stated: And when I look at my journey, I silenced myself for so long. . . because of a system that was not [inclusive] for me, but I didn’t have the words for it. And now that I know, I’m trying to make sure that those around me use their voice to break down the silos or break down the system. I see teachers now using [their voices] in very powerful ways for our students, and that’s what we need.

Another principal described three organizational changes at their school because of critical questions raised by the school leadership team and administrators. First, the school changed the function and membership of their student council after realizing that their seven-member council was composed of children whose families could help them write applications, create posters, and practice nomination speeches. After reflecting on the purpose of student council, they determined that cultivating student leadership required more equitable participation, including a rotating monthly student leadership team composed of classroom representatives who worked on a particular leadership task for the school. The second organizational shift for this school was in the transformation of parent-teacher conferences. Rather than requiring parents to come to school, teachers were allotted 16 contract hours to arrange conferences at times and locations convenient to the families. The principal described the structure, saying: In the fall, family connect time is all about. . .developing the relationship. It’s about me understanding what family means in your life and how we’re going to communicate throughout the year... And when I say. . .“How [does] that impact the child?” [I] truly believe that the child received a much better experience in the classroom because our relationship to the family is so much stronger.

A third shift occurred when the building leadership team decided to examine student achievement data more closely. In addition to watching individual student growth throughout the year, the principal monitored teachers’ cumulative success in advancing student learning for all by providing each teacher with a report of students’ growth by race for each year they taught in the building. The principal went on to note that teachers had the option of sharing that information with their equity coaches and saying, “This is where I need help with my students of color.” Transformative leadership, equity coaching, and professional learning to develop cultural responsiveness aligned within this elementary school to create cultural

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change as a school community. Individual voices shaped the policies and practices of the school, and parent voices were viewed as critical to their children’s learning. Beyond structural changes and shifts in teacher behavior and practices, several administrators described personal growth in their interactions with parents and guardians. One principal described a conference among a teacher, a parent who felt insulted by the teacher, and the grandmother. After planning the conference with the equity coach, the principal used materials from Pacific Educational Group as a tool to guide the discussion. All participants clarified their intentions and described their perspectives, resulting in the teacher understanding how her word choice was insulting to the parent. All attributed the success of the conversation to using the protocols. The principal added, “I don’t hesitate to explain [these materials] as a tool, as a strategy. . .It’s just a way of organizing people in a way to feel like they’re being heard, instead of being talked to.” Another principal co-led a monthly training for parents in raising racially conscious children. The principal described a transformative moment when a Black father shared that the monthly meetings changed his life, not realizing there was: . . .research out there about how Black people are treated. So, by going there and knowing that I [the father] have a voice in this conversation, it’s changed my life. And it’s changed how I view myself. And I want to study these things and become a better dad and a better person.

The principal realized that, even though it seemed change wasn’t occurring fast enough, “it’s those moments where you step back and go, ‘But we’re making it better for this generation.’” Being self-reflective grounds a culturally responsive leader. However, as Khalifa et al. (2016) write: By emphasizing the word responsive, we capture an important action-based, and even urgent, aspect of the term: the ability of school leaders to create school contexts and curriculum that responds effectively to the educational, social, political, and cultural needs of students. (p. 7)

One principal echoed these words, revealing a culturally responsive mind-set: And so, what does it mean [for a parent] to be heard? It means to take action. So, if you really are being heard, you move beyond mindful listening, beyond just like “I heard your point of view. I can even recount it back to you.” But what action happens because of what you just shared?

We next focus on how transformative adult learning is social justice in action.

Socially Just, Transformative Adult Learning through Peer Equity Coaching Earlier, we shared two stories of transformative adult learning through peer equity coaching. The teacher, who articulated her bias against an African American girl and her race-based assumptions about the child’s mother, was led her to observe her own

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unexamined prior experiences. Once she became aware, she was able to critically self-reflect with her equity coach. Similarly, the teacher who learned of Benjamin Banneker’s contributions to the design of our nation’s capital city became aware of her limited perspective on how history is told. Both teachers, as Larrivee (2000) suggests, slowed down their thinking to develop an awareness of the layers of screens before responding and changed their responses to students and families. Without these transformative moments, these disorienting dilemmas and disequilibrium, how many more African American children would have been treated dismissively by the first teacher? How many more children would never hear the significant contributions of people of color in our nation’s history in the second teacher’s classes? This is why peer equity coaching is social justice in action: it causes teachers to see the damage of continuing to teach and interact as we have always done, from our dominant, status-driven, power-filled narrative. A few additional transformative learning stories will underscore the impact of peer equity coaching.

From Authority to Navigator of Conflict Becoming culturally responsive means recognizing there are gaps between an individual’s intentions and the impact of their actions. Some teachers became more aware of their actions through equity coaching because they recognized that students often interpret teacher actions differently from the teacher’s intent. One secondary teacher described her shift from being an authority in the classroom to one who listened, dialogued, and navigated conflict with students. As the teacher was describing this shift, the researcher probed, “So, when is the last time a student told you to ‘f-off’?” The teacher caught her breath, paused, and described the following: I had a kid on Monday who almost, like he was goanna tell me to “f-off.” He was mad. And so, I realized that my approach before, like pre-equity coaching and pre-even looking at equity period would be, [voice gets louder, pitch is higher, speech is faster] “Are you kidding me now? What did you just say under your breath? Like, do you think you need to go to the hallway? Better yet, do you think you need to go to [in-school suspension]? Like, I’m not sure what this is about. Who do you think you are? You’re not goanna do this in my classroom!” But, on Monday, I was like, [slower speech, voice remains level in volume and pitch] “You know what, this is what I saw. You still can’t hit her. Maybe you need a little break. What do you think?” And he was like “rrrrr rrrr rrrr” under his breath. And, I just thought, “Well, I’m goanna. . .movin’ on.” And then he went and sat over there and then I didn’t talk to him. I gave him some space because he was goanna tell me to “f-off.” He was this close [holds thumb and first finger an inch apart]. And at the end of the class, I said, “You were about to go off. You were about to leave and you didn’t. And so, thanks for staying. I appreciate it.” And he was like, “Ok,” [looking down]. He was kind of saving face cause kids were still here. But he came back yesterday, and he was like, “I’m not trying to show off, but I was really mad yesterday. But I still stayed and I did the work.” I said, “I recognize that and I’m really proud of you, and I expect the same every day you’re here.” And so, he was like amazing yesterday.

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This teacher had learned to shift her behavior, and the result was success for the student. Not only did the student remain in class, but he completed his work, and he came back the next day proud of his accomplishment. This teacher expanded her story by sharing that the student in the story above was Black, male, and athletic. She further described that she was aware of her own implicit bias common in the United States, that Black males are violent. In the moment, she slowed down enough to assess the situation, internally name her bias, de-escalate the conflict, maintain high expectations for student conduct, and interact with the student in a way that made him proud of his success, staying in class, and doing the work. Because of the teacher’s growth in cultural responsiveness, the African American male student remained in class, learning, and successful. This teacher quite possibly changed the trajectory of his success in that critical moment of a culturally responsive intervention.

Listening to Student Voice Another secondary teacher discovered, in a disorienting event, that how the teacher prefaced a video might create a negative impact for Latinx students. The teacher showed a video with very little introduction, just that students might experience a conflict similar to the one in the video, and they would talk about it after viewing it. The students had watched several videos throughout the class, but few featured students of color. As soon as the video started, a Latinx student challenged the teacher: “Oh, yup. Sure. This is about Hispanic people. It’s goanna make Hispanic people look bad.” And I [the teacher] got defensive and was like, “Well, wait no, it doesn’t matter what color, your ethnicity, or what color skin you have. We’re goanna talk about this regardless.” And I remember talking to [my equity coach after class] and asking, “Should I not show the video? Is this bad?” And her simple answer was, “Well, why don’t you ask the student?” So, the next day I talked with the two girls of color and said, “I heard you say this yesterday, and I’m just curious, what’s a different way that I could teach it? What would be helpful?” And one of them said, “Well, maybe just letting us know at the beginning.” So, now I start the video much differently and say, “So what you’re going to see is a Latino couple. They’re similar to your ages, and are experiencing a conflict each of you may have in your life.” And so race becomes part of our conversation. I just remember that as being such an “aha” moment, thinking, “Why am I going to books or conferences, or my administrator, or even my equity coaches when all the answers are sitting right here in front of me and all I had to do was ask?”

The equity coach guided the teacher to two new insights or shifts in frames of reference. First, the teacher’s lack of awareness about how a perceived negative portrayal of Latinx students impacted their learning. Without prefacing the video with an acknowledgment of race and the type of conflict in the video, students viewed the teacher as promoting the bias perceived toward this group. Secondly, the teacher learned that listening to student voice decreased the presence of power and increased the presence of mutual respect.

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Black Lives Matter An elementary principal described a conflict that occurred as their school was making its final preparations for the school’s art night. The school resource officer noticed a piece of artwork created by a fourth-grade student and requested that it be taken down. The illustration was of a child holding a sign of protest with the question, “Why do all the police officers shoot Black people?” The principal recalled their reflection and response: So I looked at it. I looked at it again. I read, and then I started catching myself, “Well, maybe the student could change the word ‘all’ to ‘some.’ And then I thought, “Wait a minute. It’s not my job to tell this fourth grader. . .‘Can you change?’ because there’s nothing wrong. These are her thoughts, and [honoring student voice is] what are we about.”

The principal relayed the story to the child’s parents, a White woman and a Black man, who thanked the principal for the courage and willingness to support their daughter. The father said, “You could have dealt with this in so many different ways. My wife and I appreciate what you did.” The principal ended this story, saying, “Our focus on equity made this such a great learning experience for everybody.”

Deeper Sense of Safety for Teachers of Color Three of the six teachers of color included in this study volunteered that they felt an increased sense of safety and support due to the work of equity coaches and professional learning to develop racial consciousness in Johnson Public Schools. That deeper sense of safety encouraged richer, more comprehensive collegial conversations about curriculum, student and parent communication, and teamwork. One described the impact of having an equity coach as: . . .unlock[ing] myself because that’s what I bring here. For your whole life, you kind of stuff all that [racial discussion]. And so, for somebody to unlock that and cause me to feel safe about it and to help me know how to bring it here. . ..

This teacher continued, saying: Clearly people see me as a non-White person. For me [pre-equity coaching] to have brought up issues about non-Whiteness would have been just that, in isolation. And now I feel I have the backing and the support so it’s not just me crying for my own cause. Do you see what I’m saying? So that’s huge. That’s a very huge thing. Because I understand how it works. I understand what it’s like to be the not Black, the not White, the only one that’s like me in a building for how many years and how long. . .? I get it. I think for that reason alone, I think it’s [equity coaching] a great thing.

At first reading, this narrative might be described as exclusively personal transformative learning. However, the teacher went on to connect her experience to team development and learning, showing how it helped to navigate a situation that might

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have been difficult for a person of color to handle on their own. A parent wrote, asking why the classroom’s Halloween party was canceled; the teacher went to her White, male colleague to describe the situation, saying: “If I bring it up [by myself], then it’s all about me and my agenda as a non-White person. . .” And it took a minute for him to get that. And when he finally got that, he was like, “Oh my gosh. I finally get it! I can do it, and you can follow me, but you can’t do it because you’re the one that would be [ruining everybody else’s festival].” [And I said], “Right. . ..”

The teacher concluded this story, saying, “I wouldn’t have been able to express the same thing five years ago and have a hope of anybody understanding that.” This was transformative learning and action as a team. Each story highlights how transformative adult learning affected the course of a teacher’s, a child’s, or a family’s life. Social justice in action is making the world a better place for all, and teachers and leaders who are aware of their racial presence and power take many actions, large and small, to confront the implicit assumption of White dominance.

Impact of Equity Coaching in Johnson Public Schools In this final section, we review the key findings from our study of equity coaching and then make recommendations for organizations considering its implementation.

Transformative Learning Transformative learning in individuals’ mind-sets led to changes in teacher-student, teacher-parent, and parent-administrator relationships. It also led to increased student voice, inclusive curricular choices, and culturally responsive pedagogical strategies. Teachers and administrators reported that classroom events or questions from the equity coach triggered transformative learning. However, group professional learning experiences provided by both equity coaches and outside consultants during staff meetings at each building also stimulated transformative learning. In turn, through staff meetings and teacher networks, individual transformative learning influenced school wide transformative learning, which ultimately led to procedural and structural shifts in many schools. This happened more frequently when the school administrators practiced transformative and culturally responsive leadership strategies.

Transparency and Teacher-Driven Coaching The nature of discourse about race and cultural responsiveness changed over time, in part because of the district’s continued commitment to Singleton and Linton’s

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(2006) model of Courageous Conversations and in part because of the work of the equity coaches. In the first 3 years, small group studies and coaching conversations were primarily teacher-driven, with teachers asking for support regarding specific lessons, critical incidents, examining implicit biases, and other topics of interest. During the fourth year of the program, the peer equity coaching initiative was expanded to include the entire district and became both teacher-driven and program-driven. This decision on the part of district executives complicated the principles of andragogy, which prioritizes the learner’s need to know and the development of personal leadership and responsibility for learning. The Courageous Conversations model was no longer a choice between teacher and coach, but required by administration and the equity coaching team to “get everyone on the same page.” The collaborative nature between the union and the administration of Johnson Public Schools in developing and hosting the peer equity coaching model provided critical groundwork for establishing and sustaining the initiative. While this collaboration was significant, requiring participation exposed the dilemma of building systemic approaches from voluntary, teacher-led initiatives. Voluntary initiatives and adaptation will often undermine systemic programs; and requisite, systemic initiatives attempt (but often ineffectually) constrain adaptation to individual circumstances (Rutledge et al. 2017).

Disruptive Individual Leadership Was Critical One person raising a question that challenges the status quo can change an entire system when circles of influence from one level of the organization intersect and align. Transformative, culturally responsive leadership was evident when one teacher asked to develop and pilot an equity coaching model of teacher feedback. That one person grew into a team, and the team gathered support of the administration and the teachers’ union. District staffing decisions precipitated this aggregative effect. The equity coaching team increased annually from two coaches in 2013–2014 to nine coaches in 2016–2017 and from a few buildings to a district-wide model. One tenacious, transformative teacher worked with the tenacious, transformative superintendent to envision a more culturally responsive school district through equity coaching. Culturally responsive transformative teachers and administrators who were collaboratively engaged in critical self-reflection through dialogue produced deep and equitable change in the use of power and privilege in their schools and on their teams. Systems did not change on their own. Rather, as seen in this study, transformative individuals who were supported by transformative, culturally responsive leaders raised the critical systemic questions that engaged reflection and culturally responsive action.

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Recommendations for Future Equity Coaching Programs The peer equity coaching program in Johnson Public Schools demonstrated capacity for transformative, culturally responsive individual and systemic change. We have several recommendations to elevate this work.

Recommendation One: Integrate Equity and Instructional Coaching Instructional coaches are established in many districts; equity coaching is new. Integrating the two responds to the needs of the whole child. In many cases the functions could be performed by the same person, since equity coaches should be individuals who have highly developed skills in culturally responsive, researchbased pedagogy; who are exceptionally skilled at creating inclusive classrooms where each student’s voice is heard, encouraged, and developed and where parents are welcomed as equal partners in education; and who can build trusting relationships with colleagues. Equity coaches for administrators would also be highly capable of assessing and responding to the needs of the communities in which schools and school districts are situated. However, in other cases, existing subjectspecific instructional coaches might pair with equity coaches to ensure that their work with teachers is integrated and complementary. Recommendation Two: Increase the One-to-One Time Adequate time must be allocated for teachers and their equity coaches to build trust and to plan culturally responsive instruction. This would ensure that teachers, their grade level or department teams, and equity coaches could regularly plan together in addition to individual equity coaching. Recommendation Three: Define Culturally Responsive Teaching and Leading Teachers, leaders, parents, and school board members should mutually define and envision culturally responsive teaching and leading district-wide, including examples of what it looks like at the classroom level, the school level, and the district level. Even with a clear district-wide mission to eliminate the predictable student attainment gap, without a clear vision of what that looks like, teachers, leaders, and the community may lose focus. Conducting a district-wide equity audit could initiate the dialogue to develop a shared vision of culturally responsive teaching and leading. Recommendation Four: Expand the Indicators of Growth While coaching in its purest form is not evaluative, responsible investment of public dollars includes some sort of measures of growth and accountability. This tension could be addressed if the principles of andragogy and peer coaching were balanced with the district’s goals and articulated vision of culturally responsive teaching. Teachers, in consultation with their coaches for culturally responsive teaching, should write growth goals and preferred measurements based upon their situation

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and in the context of the district’s direction. Growth regarding critical self-awareness, culturally responsive pedagogy, inclusive curriculum, and classroom environments that are inclusive from the students’ perspectives could be measured in several ways. In addition to teacher observations, a portfolio of growth could include surveys of students regarding teacher practice and behavior, reflective journaling, demonstration of integrated curriculum development, reflections on pedagogical practices, and so on. This would be helpful for the teacher and the coach to illuminate growth over time.

Recommendation Five: Promote Organizational Learning at all Levels Teachers engaged with equity coaching more quickly and with deeper commitment when they observed their building leaders model culturally responsive practices. This makes it incumbent on district leaders to model culturally responsive leadership for their principals as well. All layers of the organization need to be engaged in the development of culturally responsive teaching and leading in order to change the system. Recommendation Six: Reinforce the Voices of Equity Coaches and Teachers of Color Teachers of color and Native American teachers universally linked validation and support to their willingness to engage in racialized conversations with their colleagues. These, in turn, led to transformative learning at local levels. Any equity coaching model or professional learning plan to develop culturally responsive teachers should attend to the unique needs and experiences of teachers of color and Native American teachers. This may include the provision of time for teachers within their affinity groups to meet in a supportive environment.

Conclusion In this chapter, we presented a qualitative research study that investigated the nature of peer equity coaching in a public school district in Minnesota. We also documented the administrative leadership necessary to support peer equity coaching and the organizational learning acquired as a result of the equity coaching program and professional learning that surrounded it. The specific stories highlighted individuals’ learning regarding the impact of their actions on students and families. By emphasizing these stories, we demonstrate that teachers and leaders impact students’ and families’ lives every day. Any of these stories could occur in any one of our classrooms at any time. The level of cultural responsiveness a teacher or leader possesses will influence how the events are resolved. In conclusion, peer equity coaching with professional learning in Johnson Public Schools provided a safe space for many teachers and administrators to talk about race and culture, and the power, privilege, and oppression that surround it. Teachers and leaders engaged in the development of racial consciousness, uncovering implicit

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biases, and making culturally responsive decisions that will likely impact the next generation’s experience of race and culture and school. In the future, peer equity coaching could be a model that fully integrates the development of culturally responsive, competent teachers. Set within the principles of adult learning theory, with a sense of emotional and social safety, in collaboration with peers committed to developing cultural responsiveness and quality instruction, in a system that is reflective at every level, peer equity coaching may be the tool that transforms schools into the inclusive, socially just classrooms of opportunity we desire to be.

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From Zero Tolerance Policies to Restorative Practices Lessons from the Field Zorka Karanxha, Michael R. P. Bailey, and Marsha Henry-Lewis

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theoretical Framework: Social Justice Leadership Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Zero Tolerance, Disproportionality, and School to Prison Pipeline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inclusive Discipline Policy: Restorative Justice (RJ) in Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Our Experiences with RJ Practices Implementation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Navigating Rational Policy Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Interpersonal Leadership for Transformative Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discussion and Implications: Lessons from the Field . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The purpose of this chapter is to examine leadership practice as schools continue to move away from zero tolerance policies to restorative justice (RJ) practices. The authors engage in discourse between literature on leadership practices in restorative justice implementation and their experiences researching and implementing restorative practices in schools. They describe lessons they learned

Z. Karanxha (*) College of Education, University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA e-mail: [email protected] M. R. P. Bailey Saint Leo University, St Leo, FL, USA e-mail: [email protected] M. Henry-Lewis University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_79

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while engaging with the leadership of two middle schools involved in implementing RJ. Practical recommendations are provided that leaders can use to support change initiatives aimed at more socially just disciplinary policies and practices that dismantle exclusion and marginalization. It was found that a significant shift in paradigm needs to include a concerted effort to co-construct vision and meaning around the work of RJ implementation. Another lesson highlights the importance of building common understandings, language, and goals before moving forward with the practical work of systems change. The biggest challenge of all when it comes to RJ in schools is for leaders to create school wide space for teachers, students, families, and community to establish a culture of trust, inclusion, collaboration, and respect. All of these actions are needed for RJ change to take root. Keywords

Restorative justice practices · Change implementation · School district leadership · School leadership

Introduction This chapter looks at a restorative justice (RJ) approach to school discipline as a social justice leadership practice that develops relationships between teachers and students, students and their peers, and schools and communities. Our working definition of RJ is RJ is a reframing of wrongdoing by using indigenous philosophical approaches to conflict resolution. The emphasis is on healing harm, repairing, and restoring relationships in a nonpunitive way by facilitating mediation-like conferences, healing circles, restorative circles, and victim-offender mediation (Pranis 2010). In the literature and in practice, RJ, restorative practices, and restorative discipline are used interchangeably. RJ is an alternative approach to school discipline in schools. It is an inclusionary leadership practice built on trust and relationships that restores and repairs harm. We begin by providing the theoretical framework that drives this chapter: social justice leadership practice. Then we provide a short treatise of zero tolerance policies in school discipline and underline the harm that is done to students as a result of zero tolerance policies. We continue with RJ practices, outlining their impact and understanding the promise of RJ to build communities that are empowering and restoring. In discourse with the literature on organizational change, we share our experiences as researcher participants in the change process involving two middle schools that piloted RJ practices. Additionally, we outline the factors that are necessary in order for a change to occur from punitive approaches to school discipline based on zero tolerance policies to RJ practices. Finally, we conclude with a discussion of leadership practices and some of the lessons we have learned from our research for those interested in implementing RJ practices in lieu of zero tolerance approaches.

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Theoretical Framework: Social Justice Leadership Practice Regarding how we understand and define social justice leadership practices, we begin with Cambron-McCabe and McCarthy (2005) to state that we believe school leaders need to engage in critical analysis of conditions that perpetuate inequities in schools and work to change institutional structures and culture; specifically, social justice leadership, we concur, is about “intentional action to make radical, fundamental changes in . . . schools” (p. 203). Similarly, Foster (1986) called upon leaders to examine their practice and policies by critically questioning who benefits and who is harmed and to change harmful practices and policies. Social justice leadership practice is about inclusiveness and activism. We examine distributive and relational dimensions of (in)justice and consider policies like zero tolerance that are a problem and RJ practices that can be a solution. We relate policies and practices like these to the (un)equal distribution of goods, power relations, and the nature of these relations. We turn to Gewirtz’s (1998) theorizing of social justice that is extended to educational policy that integrates Young’s theory of social justice to include all institutional rules and relations. Young (1990) argued that “[d]istributive injustices exploitation, marginalization, powerlessness, cultural imperialism and violence may contribute to and result from these forms of oppression, but none is reducible to distribution and all involve social structures and relations beyond distribution” (p. 9). The relational dimension refers to the nature of relationships that structure society and its institutions such as schools. Gewirtz (1998) argues the relational dimension of social justice helps us to theorize about issues of power and how we treat each other vis-à-vis the micro and macro social and economic relations that are mediated by institutions like schools. Relational justice, according to Gewirtz (1998): is not just about the distribution of power relations, nor is it just about the procedures by which goods are distributed in society (commonly referred to as procedural justice). Relational justice might include procedural justice, but it is about more than this. It is about the nature and ordering of social relations, the formal and informal rules which govern how members of society treat each other both on a macro level and at a micro interpersonal level. Thus it refers to the practices and procedures which govern the organization of political systems, economic and social institutions, families and one-to-one social relationships. (p. 471)

In Gewirtz’s theorizing, the relational dimension incorporates cultural justice, which includes cultural autonomy, recognition, and respect. Historically, administrators have tended to follow traditional approaches to managing schools. Riehl (2000) opined that “administrators are steeped in a structuralfunctionalist perspective that tends to view the existing social order as legitimate, that espouses the values of democracy and meritocracy, and that adopts a managerial orientation instead of a socially transformative one” (p. 59). In order to meet the needs of a diverse population of students, principals must engage in inclusive administrative practice rooted in values of equity and social justice. In her literature

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review, Riehl (2000) identified three broad task categories to respond to diversity: “fostering new meanings about diversity, promoting inclusive practices within schools, and building connections between schools and communities” (p. 59). She explained that “the principals’ approaches to these tasks determine the degree to which their practice can be characterized as inclusive and transformative” (p. 59). Examples Riehl (2000) gave of principals’ inclusive practices within schools are (a) encouraging teachers to examine their work for race, class, or gender bias; (b) working with parents, engaging them in schools, and developing parents’ leadership skills; (c) taking an advocacy approach against discrimination or inequity; and (d) maintaining an environment of critique such that regularities of practice serving to disempower some persons or groups are deconstructed. RJ practices fit well with these task classifications. In advancing a framework of leadership practice, Riehl (2000) discussed Bourdieu’s theory which postulates that practices are derived from, and constitutive of, larger social structures and processes wherein individuals are constrained by the norms and routines of the institutions in which they are situated. However, individuals can also transform these institutions through their individual choices. Similarly, Foucault (1977) conceptualized disciplinary practice as the discourses, norms, and routines that create “regimes of truth” and regulate the actions of individuals. Although these practices may create space wherein resistance is feasible, they may also limit the ability for individuals engaging in resistance to undo these regimes. This framework helps us to analyze changes in leadership practice that move schools from zero tolerance to RJ. In efforts to transform schools to engage in RJ practices, the discursive power of language and its semiotic implications become highly important as individuals move away from punishment to restoration and from harm to repair. In our view, leadership for social justice practice must move schools from reproducers of privilege and oppression (Giroux 1992) to a moral approach that is against oppression and inequity in the quest for social justice and advocacy on behalf of students. Leadership for social justice centers practices that dismantle structures which promote marginalization, exclusionary practices, disproportionality, and the school to prison pipeline.

Zero Tolerance, Disproportionality, and School to Prison Pipeline The use of zero tolerance policies is normalized in the majority of schools across the United States. These policies “mandate the application of predetermined consequences, most often severe and punitive in nature that are intended to be applied regardless of the gravity of behavior, mitigating circumstances, or situational context” (Skiba et al. 2006, p. 3). A typical definition of zero tolerance disciplinary policy focuses on discipline as a method to send a message that certain behaviors will not be tolerated by punishing all offenses severely, no matter how minor (Skiba and Peterson 1999). Zero tolerance became national public education policy in the

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United States in 1994, when President Clinton signed the Gun-Free Schools Act of 1994. This law required that each state receiving federal funds under the Elementary and Secondary Education Act: (1) have in effect a state law requiring local education agencies to expel from schools for a period of one year any student who brought a firearm to school; (2) referral of law-violating students to the criminal or juvenile justice system; (3) have in effect a state law allowing the chief administering officer of the local education agency to modify the expulsion requirement on a case-by-case basis, and (4) report information on such expulsions to the US Department of Education on an annual basis. (Skiba et al. 2006, p. 25)

Failure to comply with this law would result in loss of federal funding. In early implementation of zero tolerance policies, the bill covered only firearms, but amendments to the policy have broadened the language of the act to include any instrument that may be used as a weapon. State legislatures and school districts have exercised their authority to broaden the scope of zero tolerance policies beyond the federal mandate of weapons to include offenses as wide ranging as drugs, fighting, threats, swearing, defiance, and disrespect. Many school districts continue to exercise strict interpretations of zero tolerance policies as part of their student discipline models. From the beginning, the nondiscretionary nature of zero tolerance policies caused problems. Skiba et al. (2006) catalogued some of the incidents that received media attention from 1994 to 2001. Some of the suspensions and expulsions were for reasons ranging from possession of a fingernail file to offering a friend an organic cough drop. Administrators in some cases extended the 1-year expulsion and in others broadened the definition of weapons by labeling non-dangerous objects like nail clippers as such. The most troubling factor in the literature and government reports on school discipline is evidence showing racial disparity in the use of expulsions and suspensions. Each year, there has been an increase in rates of suspension and expulsion of minority and low-socioeconomic students who are disproportionately represented in both these categories of exclusionary discipline practices. Numerous studies and reports show a steady, disproportionate, and significant rise in the rate of removal of Black students through suspensions and expulsions (Kim 2009). In 2004 alone, there were nearly 3.3 million school suspensions and 106,000 expulsions across the United States (Kim 2009 as cited in Karanxha 2017). Nationwide, according to the Advancement Project ([2010] as cited in Karanxha 2017), from 2002 to 2007, Black students experienced a 33% increase in expulsions with a 6% increase in Latino expulsions, while White students had a 2% decrease in expulsions. According to the 2018 Government Accountability Office (GAO) Report of discipline data from the US Department of Education (Mowicki 2018), Black students, boys, and students with disabilities were disproportionately disciplined (e.g., suspended and/or expelled) in K-12 public schools during 2013–2014. These disparities were pervasive and persisted regardless of the type of disciplinary action, level of school poverty, or type of public school attended. As per the GAO Report, Black students accounted for 15.5% of all public school students but represented about 39% of students suspended from school – an overrepresentation of about 23 percentage points.

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The term commonly used to reflect disproportionality in discipline outcomes across racial groups is racial discipline gap. In K-12 education, Black students in the United States are overrepresented in discipline referrals involving the exclusionary practices of suspending and expelling students (Gregory et al. 2010). A report titled “Eleven Million Days” by Losen and Whitaker (2019) showed the harsh reality of lost educational opportunity due to school discipline. This report indicated that nationally 11 million days of instruction were lost from suspensions as disciplinary actions from 2015 to 2016, which “translates to more than 60,000 school years, more than 60 million hours of lost education, and billions of dollars wasted. And this is all in a single school year” (p. 4). Losen and Whitaker’s (2019) data specify the disproportionate exclusion of students of color from US public schools and the existence of these disparities at school, district, state, and national levels: Nationally, students missed instruction at a rate of 23 days lost per 100 enrolled. Data show that, nationally, Black students lost 66 days of instruction compared to just 14 days for White students. This difference of 52 more days lost for Blacks than Whites means that Blacks lost nearly 5 times the amount of instruction as Whites and nearly 17 times the amount lost by Asian American students. (p. 5)

Students with disabilities experienced 44 days of instructional loss per 100, more than double the loss of students without disabilities (i.e., 20 days per 100). The trends are alarming for Black girls in schools as well. Crenshaw et al. (2015) found that, on average, Black girls faced more punitive discipline policies than Black boys and White girls. Losen and Skiba (2010) revealed profound racial and gender disparities at the middle school level showing much higher rates of exclusionary practices that appear when aggregate K-12 data are analyzed. Eighteen percent of Black girls were suspended, compared with just 3.9% of White girls. Black girls in particular are overrepresented in exclusionary discipline sanctions (Crenshaw et al. 2015). They are twice as likely to receive in-school and out-of-school suspensions as all girls (Blake et al. 2011). According to Losen and Whitaker (2019), “Black girls lost 1.7 million days of instruction or 45 days for every100 enrolled. This is nearly twice the national average for all students” (p. 6). Research studies have shown that missing school due to disciplinary practices has a negative cumulative effect on academic outcomes that can be revealed overtime (Gregory et al. 2010). For instance, correlational and longitudinal research has shown that students who are suspended are more likely to be truant, lose instructional time, and dropout of high school (Arcia 2006). As explained by Gregory et al. (2010), the “achievement gap” is rooted in the “discipline gap.” Skiba et al. (2002) pointed out the negative impact that zero tolerance exclusionary practices have on the trajectory of students exposed to such practices in their description of the redirection of the pipeline from school to higher education and productive citizenship to prison. Expulsions and suspensions remove students from the schools and increase their exposure to negative models, increase opportunities to engage in delinquent behavior, and diminish school attachment, an important determinant of academic achievement (Skiba and Peterson 1999). Furthermore, research studies and reports have implicated exclusionary discipline practices in the disproportional

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placement of Black students in juvenile justice (Losen and Whitaker 2019; Skiba et al. 2002). In their study of Florida zero tolerance policy implementation, Hall and Karanxha (2012) illustrated Henry Giroux’s hypothesis (2009) that the society and the state view youth of color as “expendable” and “disposable” and their existence as “wasted lives.” They concluded that zero tolerance policy as implemented in public schools is a pathway from school to jail for many youths of color deemed “outcasts.” It is sometimes argued that the real problem with disproportionality in many areas within the school setting (e.g., the achievement gap, the discipline gap, gifted placement, etc.) is due to socioeconomic status (SES), not race. Studies of school discipline (e.g., Lustick 2017; Skiba et al. 2002) show that Black students are disciplined more often and more harshly than their White peers, even when controlling for SES and behavior. Kim (2009) reported that Black males receive harsher punishments for engaging in similar behaviors as their White counterparts, regardless of SES. Furthermore, the push for teacher accountability has negatively manifested as teachers provide surveillance and behavior management within the classroom instead of support and guidance (Raible and Irizarry 2010). Consistently, studies show disparity in exclusionary practices that begin in classrooms. Teachers referred Black students at twice the rate of White students (Skiba et al. 2002). Overall, Black students and White students show no differences on 24 out of 32 reasons for disciplinary referral. Black students receive punitive discipline for more subjective and less serious reasons than White students, and research shows that teacher referral bias, rather than students’ actual behavior, is associated with disproportionate discipline sanctions and referrals (Skiba et al. 2002 as cited in Karanxha 2017). Clearly, zero tolerance policies have had a lasting reign in America’s schools although, to date, there is no empirical evidence that this get-tough approach reduces school violence, misconduct, or student delinquency. Rather, what has been theorized is that isolation and alienation resulting from exclusionary discipline may very well accelerate violence in schools (Buckmaster 2016) and violence toward self, as in the case of 15-year-old Nick Stuban who committed suicide after being suspended from school for 2 months for having bought a legal synthetic drug. Needless to say, these policies have been criticized for their nondiscretionary, “onesize-fits-all” nature, disproportionate punishment of students of color, their ineffectiveness, and the injustice they perpetuate (Skiba 2014). Advocates and critics alike recommend flexibility within the policies, while others argue the policies should be abolished entirely. Recently, more states, school districts, and schools are implementing positive school discipline policies such as Positive Behavior Interventions and Supports, Multi-Tiered Systems of Support (MTSS), Response to Intervention (RtI), and RJ practices to address racial disparities in school discipline.

Inclusive Discipline Policy: Restorative Justice (RJ) in Schools RJ practices have been emerging as a potentially effective alternative to what have been traditionally punitive, authoritative, and exclusionary approaches to school discipline (Morrison and Vaandering 2012). As scholars and practitioners elucidate

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the impact of zero tolerance policies that feed the school to prison pipeline, some school districts and school leaders are exploring RJ practices as a viable alternative. According to an analysis of state-level statutes or codes by Pavelka (2016), as of 2016, 39 states incorporated RJ- related principles to alter negative long-term outcomes for offenders and victims. Denver School District, San Francisco School District, and Oakland Unified School District have used this approach to discipline, witnessing a marked decline in the number of suspensions and expulsions. Rather than focus on punishment, RJ practices use “a collaborative process that focuses on repairing harms through reconciliation, dialogue, and a greater inclusion of stakeholders to include other members of the community not directly involved in the harm” (Pranis 2010, p. 553). Zehr, Amstutz, MacRae, and Pranis ( 2015) assert that RJ aims to dismantle systemic inequities by transforming “patterns of racism and oppression” (p. 16). Gardner (2016) in his advocacy for the use of RJ in schools argues that schools must work to empower students in ways that will transform, not “replicate societal repression and criminalization that makes the United States the most punitive nation in the world” (p. 4). But this transformation requires work, time, commitment, collaboration, and consistency that are often cited as limited in school operation, especially in this era of accountability that makes teachers protective of their instructional hours (Wadhwa 2015). Based on the extant literature, RJ practices operate on three core principles or pillars: 1. Repairing harm done by focusing on the victim’s needs 2. Holding offenders accountable and positioning them to take responsibility for their actions by helping them to identify their obligations to those harmed, including the extended community 3. Empowering the community through engagement and collaboration to find resolutions (Buckmaster 2016; Pavelka 2013; Zehr et al. 2015). Focusing on the victim is imperative to the healing process that is at the center of RJ practices, which should be prioritized whether or not the offender has been identified (Zehr et al. 2015). In schools, RJ practices may include both face-to-face and nonface-to-face approaches depending on the incident and needs of the victim (Pranis 2010). In cases where the victim prefers to have no direct contact with the offender, restitution, surrogates, apologies, and community service are recommended in lieu of conferencing, dialogue, and circles (Pranis 2010). Gardner (2016), in his attempt to describe a RJ discipline model for schools, argued that community, which includes shared values, a shared sense of purpose, and a shared sense of responsibility to one another, must be at the foundation of RJ in schools. Integral aspects of this model include the use of discipline to transform behaviors; an understanding and acceptance of the idea that harm to an individual is also harm to the community; participation by victim or offender is a choice, not a mandate; power is shifted to empower students and amplify their voices; investment must be made to uncover root causes and contextual factors that perpetuate the harm; and attention is paid to equity. Importantly, there must be a genuine belief that all children deserve an opportunity to learn.

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Most of the literature points to the positive impact of RJ practices in reducing suspensions and expulsions (Anyon et al. 2014; González 2012). Cornell et al. (2011) found that there was a 52% reduction in suspensions, and the number of bullying cases declined by 79%. According to research studies, restorative circles contributed to a healthier school climate (Hamilton 2008), improved student teacher relationships (González 2012), and impacted student behavior in positive ways (Cornell et al. 2011). Research has found that there was less misconduct in classrooms that implemented RJ practices robustly in comparison to classrooms that merely incorporated RJ practices (Gregory et al. 2016). Students who participated in restorative interventions showed improvements in attendance and behaviors. Student perceptions of their teachers were more positive, and teachers issued less office discipline referrals. One of the most lingering questions concerning the implementation of RJ practices in schools is its potential to impact racial disparities observed in school discipline data. The complexity of school systems and normalized paternalistic modes of operation call into focus implicit biases that are barriers to transformative and social justice leadership. Most of the current literature on alternative school discipline lacks data on whether restorative interventions actually confront and impact racial, gender, and other disparities. Wadhwa (2015), in her literature review that examined the use of RJ practices in schools across Canada, Europe, Australia, New Zealand, and the United States, did not find a critical examination of this matter. Similarly, Mayworm et al.’s (2016) review found that “none of the studies analyzed the effect of RJ practices on racial disproportionality” (p. 387). More recent studies of school discipline outcomes show that even positive approaches to discipline “replicate same patterns of racial disproportionate disciplinary outcomes as suspensions” (Lustick 2017, p. 683). Also, Anyon et al. (2014) and Payne and Welch (2015) reported evidence of persistent racial disproportionality in their research on restorative practices. Overall, while change in policy and implementation of positive behavior programs narrowed the discipline gap compared to the national average, data showed that Black students were overrepresented among student referrals and suspensions.

Our Experiences with RJ Practices Implementation From 2015 through 2017, we conducted a longitudinal case study of two middle schools in a suburban Florida school district interested in implementing RJ as part of their school wide discipline paradigm. West River Middle School and Cherry Hill Middle School (pseudonyms) both served students from predominantly low-SES backgrounds and experienced higher than average disciplinary referrals and out-ofschool suspension when compared to all schools in the district. We chose to collaborate with these schools based on knowledge of the administrators who had expressed interest in reconsidering the ways their schools approached discipline in hopes of improving student outcomes. We approached this study from the perspective of researcher participants, providing professional development and participating in restorative circles while

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simultaneously collecting and analyzing data regarding implementation. Although in both schools RJ practices did not take hold at the time, we were able to discern important patterns and barriers that can inform future implementation efforts. The following section summarizes themes we found across the two schools, focusing primarily on the ways in which technical and rational models of organizational theory and interpersonal concerns interact to obstruct systemic change. Specifically, we highlight how the nexus of structures, personnel, and discourses interacted in ways that prevented the schools from engaging in meaningful paradigm shifts. With Institutional Review Board approval, the study began in the summer of 2015 and included two middle schools: Cherry Hill and West River. Two of the researchers participated in all the training sessions at both schools. At Cherry Hill, there were weekly discussions with one of the assistant principals (APs), participation in proactive circles with students, class observations of teachers implementing RJ, visits at self-contained classrooms and ISS room at the school, and other disciplinary processes. Five formal interviews took place and observations from visiting the school once a week during the majority of the school year. At West River, researchers participated in restorative circles with students, participated in leadership meetings, and twice interviewed four staff in charge of RJ practices. Visits to the school continued for almost 2 years, albeit less frequently during the second year of RJ implementation.

Navigating Rational Policy Models Schools and school districts are complex systems made up of many different constituents; complicated and sometimes contradictory legal mandates; and competing personal and political agendas. As such, it is not surprising that organizational change is an arduous task made increasingly difficult when considering charged issues like student discipline. Administrators and teacher leaders who aim to make substantive and lasting changes need to account for a variety of organizational variables that may either help or work against change efforts. Broadly speaking, such variables can be broken down into two categories: those associated with policy implementation and those associated with the interactions of staff, students, families, communities, and context (King and Bouchard 2011; Penuel et al. 2010). Although these two categories cannot be truly isolated from one another, it is beneficial to consider each separately in order to better understand how leaders can best support change efforts. Contemporary educational policy enactment has predominantly focused on questions of implementation and outcomes. Such questions are by-products of a rational systems model of policy which is predicated on the notion that formalized goals, clearly definable tasks, and distinct units of assignment can each be established and manipulated in an attempt to optimize outcomes. Unfortunately, these principles are grounded in a scientific management paradigm, popularized in factories during the late nineteenth century, which fail to account for the complexity and humanity inherent in educational systems. Despite the limitations of technical/rational

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frameworks, they remain an engrained aspect of dominant policy implementation discourses, so must be considered as part of the broader framework for systems change. In order to integrate rational policy models into a more holistic approach to organizational change, it is important to consider the assumptions upon which such frameworks are established. As King and Bouchard (2011) noted: Leaders [manage] a bureaucracy and the workforce within it, and the practice of leadership has been largely hierarchical and gendered. Leadership responsibilities [are] associated with specific, official positions within the hierarchy and [tend] to focus on administrative matters rather than instructional ones. As with most attempts at educational innovation and reform, changes in leadership practice [tinker] around the edges of the core technologies of schooling, teaching and learning, rather than addressing them head on. (p. 657)

Although the bureaucratic nature of educational administration has been much maligned in the literature, its inexorable authority as it relates to policy implementation offers insight into the change process as well as opportunities to create spaces wherein meaningful transformation can occur. That is to say, literacy in regard to policy enactment allows one to engage and exploit systemic structures in order to promote effective change. Seen simply in practice, a lack of commitment from school administration and/or district leadership can create logistical barriers that fail to sanction support, which is detrimental to organizational change (Karanxha et al. 2019). In order to effectively address formalized structures governing educational policy, leaders must consider both how they will enact and justify the policies they are proposing. To this end, it is essential to consider factors such as budgetary constraints, staffing issues, contractual demands, and competing initiatives. Failure to recognize the logistical demands associated with organizational change sets preconditions through which the initiatives can be undermined owing to bureaucratic technicalities (Yilmaz and Kiliçoğlu 2013). Furthermore, through engaging these formalized structures, leaders can create a space in which official authorizing of policy can induce a formal commitment of those with sanctioned power, which is essential for school leaders whose positions are often precarious, especially in schools deemed “struggling.” Doing so establishes important foundations that allow leaders to move beyond administrative tasks associated with organizational change and instead focus on how best to engage the more daunting interpersonal aspects of change leadership. Divergence in Vision. When it comes to planning and implementing RJ practices, Welsh and Little (2018) posited that “recent evidence suggests that schoollevel variables are the strongest predictors of disciplinary outcomes” (p. 758). Wadhwa (2015), for example, found that the school leader acting in the capacity of a bridge-builder performs the most critical role in efforts to evolve school discipline from punitive to restorative dimensions. Others concur, postulating that RJ practices work best when a whole-school approach is implemented as every teacher and school staff is made and held accountable for its implementation and use (Gregory et al. 2017). One of the primary roles of educational leaders is establishing and supporting a coherent vision that encourages student growth.

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In the schools where we conducted our research, both principals had led their buildings for at least 2 years at the onset of the study. This was important as it ensured the building leaders had sufficient time to establish priorities, hire staff whom they believed fit with their instructional vision, and build the type of relationships with students, staff, and communities that are essential for effective leadership. Despite the fact that both principals had the formal and informal power that helps to facilitate change, in both situations, the lack of clear visioning related to RJ implementation created significant barriers to effective implementation. At West River, change was primarily initiated by an AP who was relatively new to both the school and his position. The principal of the West River had been an AP at that same school before being promoted. From the outset, it was clear that she viewed student behavior as something that needed to be addressed swiftly and harshly. Her vision of supporting staff and students revolved around the notion that students with behavioral challenges were barriers to staff effectiveness and deprived peers who were “ready to learn” of the opportunity to engage in the designed learning activities. As a result, there were tensions between the principal and AP regarding appropriate disciplinary practices; hence, full implementation of RJ was never prioritized. Rather, the AP that most heavily advocated for their use attempted to use restorative circles as a means of reintegrating students after incidents of exclusionary discipline. Beyond this, there were pockets of teachers who found ways to meaningfully integrate RJ in their individual classrooms; however, without a systemic approach to school wide implementation, they often engaged in such practices in spite of their administration rather than in concert with the broader framework for community building and positive discipline at West River. At Cherry Hill, there was also a lack of a clear vision; however, this manifested in a very different way than at West River. The principal of Cherry Hill was a vocal proponent of RJ practices; however, his leadership style often lent itself to supporting teachers through avoiding demands that might be viewed as burdensome, as new initiatives, or as an additional strain on their limited time and resources. As a result, RJ implementation was delegated to the school-based intervention team whose primary responsibilities included targeted supports for students already engaging in problematic behaviors, implementation of MTSS for students who were struggling and/or going through the special education eligibility process, and providing counseling and other similar services for students in need. Unsurprisingly, the scope of RJ implementation at Cherry Hill was focused on students already in need of additional support, specifically those who were in Tier II of the school’s MTSS model. Restorative circles occurred on a regular basis; however, the lack of school wide implementation, common language and beliefs, and a framework for supporting these students when not in a small group with members of the schoolbased intervention team led to situations wherein students could not generalize the skills and principles they were learning in the school to other contexts. As a result, staff involved in Cherry Hill’s RJ implementation felt isolated from their colleagues; they expressed concerns that the students with whom they were working did not feel the sense of community and belonging that they were trying to build.

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Beyond simply allowing space to do the work associated with change, leaders must deliberate on how they will provide spaces for institutionalized goals to adapt to the needs of teachers, students, parents, and communities. It is not enough to simply help teachers do the work they are assigned; rather, leaders must create opportunities for those impacted by change to co-construct both the vision and the roadmap. As Bryk (2010) found, “Some of the most powerful relationships found in our data are associated with relational trust and how it operates as both a lubricant for organizational change and a morale resource for sustaining the hard work of local school improvement” (p. 27). In order to accomplish this, Bryk outlined five organizational features of meaningful paradigm shifts in schools: coherent instructional guidance system; professional capacity; strong parent-community-school ties; student-centered learning climate; and leadership drives change. In combination, these factors acknowledge the primacy of individuals that make up school communities and refocus the work of administrators to build both consensus and capacity as part of organizational change paradigms. Little Time and Space for RJ. Researchers and experts involved in RJ change in schools have consistently pointed to the time that is needed for planning and training of teachers and parents before even beginning such a change (IIRP 2017). Additionally, parents, teachers, students, and community partners must be thoroughly and consistently trained and supported if they are to “buy in” and adopt the premise that discipline can occur effectively in nonpunitive ways (Mayworm et al. 2016). To effectively train teachers to implement RJ, Lustick et al. (2020) recommended: “(a) explicit modeling of and instruction in social and emotional skills, (b) professional development strategies that include ongoing support for circle facilitation, (c) effective awareness of trauma and how to address it, and (d) anti-bias work using empowerment theory” (p. 94). Also, the International Institute for Restorative Practices (2017) recommended that schools implement preventive practices among teachers and administrators for at least a year before starting RJ practices with students. Additionally, schools need to create opportunities for promoting new practices that include official ceremonies, public relations events, meetings, and the like. Moreover, since meanings are encapsulated in organizational structures and routines, administrators can help change meanings by changing the routine ways in which things are done and how the school organization is designed. West River decided on a whole-school approach even though teachers participated in only one training session on RJ. The training itself did not incorporate antibias work. The school had received some training on awareness of trauma the previous academic year. The latter was already part of the discourse at the school. It was fascinating to find out that three teachers immediately started conducting restorative circles with their students and they had already found resources to be prepared for incorporating RJ into their classes. West River’s principal made no effort to provide structures so teachers could begin to make RJ practices part of their work. Additionally, even when data showed lower number of referrals, no connection was made with RJ practices like proactive circles, restorative circles, or implementing them. Furthermore, after 3 months of initiating RJ circles, this

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principal said during the second training that RJ practices are not effective. According to one of the APs: We have to give teachers a means to do it logistically. So right now we have a study hall built into the beginning of the day. I think if we were able to take a specific day out of the week, or a couple days out of the week during study hall time for those 15 or 20 minutes that they are there to conduct a circle, I think that that would be a structure. A structure has to be in place for the teachers to be able to do it.

Cherry Hill, on the other hand, changed structures and provided time for restorative circles for students receiving Tier II and Tier III supports. The number of students involved reached around 40. This did not involve a school wide approach in implementing RJ practices because, as stated by the principal, “teachers have plenty on their plates.” The school psychologist, social worker, special education teachers, and guidance counselors were in charge of running the restorative circles. During initial conversations and thereafter, the principal continuously tried to emphasize the importance of how the RJ approach to discipline would be perceived by the teachers and staff. During pre-planning, he asked “Do we have to use the term RJ?” and inquired about the overlap of RJ philosophy with positive behavioral intervention supports (PBIS). In an attempt to support the principal’s vision, the research team and the school-based intervention team worked to align various components of RJ with the extant PBIS model at the school (e.g., use of restorative and affective language as a Tier I support; use of reentry circles as a Tier III support, etc.). Interestingly, there was intense debate among participants over where the use of restorative circles would fall in terms of PBIS tiers, specifically as either a Tier I universal support or Tier II targeted intervention. The Cherry Hill team decided to use restorative circles as part of their Tier II interventions and designated Wednesdays and Fridays as days the school would work on restorative practices. Unsurprisingly, limiting the use of restorative circles as an intervention, especially one that was done on specific days by an external team rather than the classroom teacher, contributed to a broader lack of school wide support and implementation. Community Exclusion. Gardner (2016), in describing a RJ discipline model for schools, argues that shared values, sense of purpose, and responsibility to members of the community must be at the foundation of RJ in schools. Research has shown that meaningful involvement of the community can have beneficial effects on school culture and student performance (e.g., Khalifa et al. 2016). These benefits include value added to the school itself by involvement of the community, as well as support for school initiatives in the home stemming from the relationships and trust that the school and community members build with one another. At both Cherry Hill and West River, family members, community leaders, and other partners were generally excluded from the process unless they were compelled by members of restorative circles or got information about the supports students were receiving. During the early stages of planning and implementation, and despite the urging of members of the research and professional development team, neither school attempted to involve parents or any other members of the broader school community.

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The reasons supplied varied from logistical concerns to an assumed lack of involvement, to deficit views, and to their need to develop a proof of concept before presenting RJ to community members. As discussed previously, successful RJ initiatives are predicated on concepts like equality, empowerment, and engagement (Gardner 2016; Morrison and Vaandering 2012). By definition, the process of exclusion, whether it be excluding students from school or excluding community members from meaningful input and collaboration, undermines these essential philosophical components of RJ practice. At Cherry Hill, this problem looked much the same as it did when the majority of teachers were excluded from the RJ process: limited buy-in, a lack of understanding, fractured relationships, etc. West River, on the other hand, did involve parents on a limited basis but only after students were already in trouble and relationships were strained. This problem was perhaps most evident when, as one of the APs in our study reported, a circle devolved into a shouting match as one parent advocated that their child fight the other student. During this exchange, the parent indicated that the suspension and subsequent reentry circle were examples of the school failing to be sufficiently harsh with the other student involved and indicating that failure to stand up for oneself was a sign of weakness. Although it would be easy to criticize the parent’s behavior, it is important to note that without an understanding of the purpose of RJ and involvement in the development and implementation of RJ, it can be difficult for those on the outside to understand how this model works and why it can be an effective means for addressing school culture and discipline concerns. The parent’s behavior also reinforces the need for shifting the way we think about discipline in schools.

Interpersonal Leadership for Transformative Practice Penuel et al. (2010) used a social network analysis to understand the nexus of formal and informal processes as they relate to shifts in instructional paradigms. Unsurprisingly, they found that the technical and interpersonal features of systems change are linked in such a way that leaders must “analyze the conditions under which these two aspects of the social organization of schools can be aligned to produce commitment to a shared vision for change” (p. 89). Doing so requires not only an ability to manage the procedural facets of change but a deep understanding of political and practical concerns that can bolster or constrain any attempts to shift practices in schools. In discussing capacity building in schools, King and Bouchard (2011) claimed that approaches to change that focus solely on rules and compliance are often perceived by teachers as a means of control and a limit on the freedom, expertise, and creativity of instructional staff. Schools have become so accustomed to procedural leadership, thanks in no small part to the ever pressing mandates of accountability systems, that there is no avoiding its influence; however, leaders who rely too heavily on sanctioned authority as a means of change are apt to alienate those who

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otherwise would be allies in building meaningful change. To address this, according to Friedman (2011), leaders must: be aware of the particular configurations of actors or agents as well as their positions relative to one and the dynamic relations among people that continually reconstitute these rules and give them power . . . [thus] attending to the relevant field that forms around an issue or problem of particular concern to those carrying out the inquiry and change. (p. 244)

In this sense, leaders act as mediators between formal structures and interpersonal needs in an attempt to position those who are engaging in the change process such that they can best meet the formalized objectives of change while still maintaining a sense of control and autonomy over their work. The Blame Game and Deficit-Based Thinking. A third theme that emerged across both schools revolved around two related concepts: blaming others and viewing students through a deficit-oriented lens. Both of these problems are indicative of a culture of mistrust and judgment rather than one wherein each individual and their unique contributions are valued. The staff members involved in RJ implementation often spoke about their students in ways that assumed misbehavior and less ability to regulate their emotions than peers from higher-SES backgrounds. It was not uncommon to hear statements about how “special” a teacher needed to be to work with either the schools’ population of students or how much additional socio-emotional support the students at these schools needed. Sadly, not only is this way of thinking common among schools with high populations of students from poor families, the very tough process itself is antithetical to the tenants of RJ. By framing students as inherently flawed and in need of something or someone “special,” there is an underlying dehumanizing assumption that the individual is somehow “less than,” thus compromising the principles of equality and personal value that undergird RJ. Beyond the notion that the students at these schools were flawed or otherwise less than, both Cherry Hill and West River repeatedly blamed others, including students, for the lack of success in RJ implementation. One of the APs at West River, for example, claimed “decision making skills that are not taught at the home all kind of lead to what I would say is a high trauma school.” Such statements are predicated on a framework that assumes any failing of the school is in turn the failure of students and the individuals who raised them. The blame did not stop with students or their families either. During our interviews and observations, administration blamed teachers for a lack of ability or willingness to implement the RJ process; teachers and school administrators blamed the district for not providing enough support and resources; district representatives in turn blamed school administrators for a lack of leadership and teachers for a lack of willingness to grow and change. In each situation, the repeated blaming worked in opposition to the principles of RJ by directing attention almost exclusively to what others (apparently) did poorly instead of reflecting meaningfully on the good and bad actions that occurred and working collaboratively to identify solutions. As a result, rather than repairing harm and building a stronger community, both schools unsurprisingly fell back on the same

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frameworks of discipline as punishment and patterns of exclusion that had already failed to meet the needs of their students. Difficulty Shifting Mindsets from Punishment to Restoration. Decades old ways of knowing and doing cannot be easily unlearned, so successful implementation of restorative discipline “requires a fundamental shift in thinking” (Payne and Welch 2015, p. 236) as power structures are changed to incorporate the perspectives of multiple constituents – another critical aspect of RJ practice in schools (Gregory et al. 2017). The development of inclusive structures and practices (Riehl 2000) like RJ must be accompanied by new understandings and values, or they will not result in lasting change. Most importantly, the consistent use of RJ is imperative to its success (Pavelka 2013). Vaandering (2014) explained that when preventive practices fail to establish community, responsive practices will be less effective, and punitive discipline will seem the only recourse for redirecting student misconduct. Committing time to change values and beliefs is necessary for schools to reap the benefits of RJ. During pre-planning at West River, all district administrators (n ¼ 4) in charge of change, researchers (n ¼ 2), and school teachers and staff (n ¼ 80) engaged in training concerning RJ practices and participated in restorative circles. Immediately after the 2-hour training, teachers attended the next workshop on discipline that included paperwork and procedures needed to process referrals and guidance regarding the use of various forms of exclusionary discipline such as “mystery ISS” (inschool suspension) (a disciplinary consequence in which students are removed from their classroom and are sent to complete work while isolated in another, randomly assigned classroom), suspensions, and expulsions. Although the school had volunteered to become a pilot site for RJ, the same established mechanisms of discipline continued to be widely used in the school. The principal specifically thought she could push out of the school every student that misbehaved. We closely observed as she followed a seventh grader, a Black male, after returning from suspension for a physical altercation and tried to find any infraction that would allow her to move him to an alternative school in the district. This was the first suspension for the student, and we could not justify such behavior from the principal. One of the APs described what could get a student suspended: “I would like to fight that student” is enough to suspend a student at the school. Threats being made or instigating, the word instigating is used a lot because it is on the back of our referral. So even saying that you would like to be engaged in a fight with a student or you [sic] getting on Facebook or any kind of social media saying [you would fight] . . . was enough to suspend for 5 days.

At Cherry Hill, the district’s discipline document that outlined allowable and recommended punishments continued to be used throughout the school. Unlike West River, around 20 people participated in training at this middle school. This included the leadership team (principal and two APs), department chairs, special education teachers, guidance, and school’s social worker. Teachers at the school had heard about RJ practices being implemented as part of the MTSS system but were never involved in any discussions and never received any training on RJ. Some of the

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teachers asked for the school’s social worker to organize RJ circles in their classes just as the first year of our study’s implementation was coming to a close. Yet, the principal never even considered broadening RJ practice to include all teachers and students.

Discussion and Implications: Lessons from the Field Reflecting on our experiences and findings from this study, we noticed that leadership in these two schools maintained a structural-functionalist perspective (Riehl 2000) of the existing social order. At no time was there evidence of a transformative stance in these schools’ actions. Historically, administrators have tended to follow traditional approaches to managing schools, yet during planning RJ with the district, we did notice concern for equity. It dissipated rather quickly, and any sense and hope of transformative effect on the school culture did not appear. The main concern throughout was looking for outcomes, such as lower referral rates and suspensions. We could not find the task categories Riehl (2000) defined in these two schools. Even as they promoted inclusive practices like RJ, the emphasis and focus remained on accountability for lowering the excessive numbers of referrals and suspensions rather than fostering new meanings about discipline, diversity, and building connections with families and communities. The schools continued to view punishment as natural, normal, and routine (Foucault 1977). Similar to other researchers (e.g., Bryk 2010), we recognize the critical role formal leaders play in school improvement and success. The two school leaders exerted substantial influence on school structure, culture, and other aspects of the school organizations as well as during this attempt at implementing RJ practices. Thus, school wide implementation of RJ without principals and their efforts to promote a culture of RJ ethos did not take place. It is hopeful to note that some teachers tried to resist a regime of punishment by incorporating RJ in their practice and changing the discourse with students in their classes. For all the talk by school administrators about teacher resistance and unwillingness to change, we offer a counter narrative by pointing out how little involvement in planning the change or the vision was afforded to the teachers. We found many of the teachers to be critical of the status quo, eager to learn, willing to change, and engaging in our interactions with them. In a change process, shared vision is important, principal support and leadership is paramount, and fundamental change in a traditional philosophy of discipline and punishment is necessary for a shift in culture. During this study, we witnessed the rise, crest, and decline of RJ implementation over a period of 1 year. What began as an optimistic endeavor aimed at changing school culture quickly encountered a number of system and interpersonal barriers that led to limited implementation and eventual disbandment of the initiative. The earliest signs of these issues were the clear disconnect between the goals and understanding of those involved; the lack of involvement of a broader range of constituents (namely families, students, and community members); and the lack of system structures and resources to engage

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in effective systems change. These barriers were compounded by key implementers whose beliefs were rooted in deficit-based thinking and behaviors that did not support a shift in the paradigms from which they and the staff were operating. Also, language is important in RJ practices as it has the power to shift mindsets and restore belief in students and communities. Throughout our research, we saw minimal shifts in language as it relates to students, their potential, or discipline. Unsurprisingly, shifts in practice similarly failed. Although this endeavor did not result in the outcomes we, the participants, including the administrators, had envisioned at the onset, important lessons can be found in the implementation process undergone by the staff in these two schools. First, establishing a meaningful shift in culture and community, especially as it relates to a philosophical paradigm like RJ, is nearly impossible without a representative sample of the community that is being impacted by such work. Second, although organic change driven by those with a vested interest can be powerful, in these schools that operate in a large school district system, commitment to full implementation of RJ was essential for ensuring the time and resources necessary for system change. It is also important for schools to challenge bias related to race, social class, gender, language, and disability and question old paradigms of thinking about school discipline as punishment. Finally, a significant shift in paradigm needs to include a concerted effort to coconstruct vision and meaning around the work, a fact that was especially evident in both the good intentions rooted in deficit views and the divergence in visioning themes. This lesson closely relates to the first lesson mentioned in this section and highlights the importance of building common understandings, language, and goals

Fig. 1 Model for integrating restorative justice in schools

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before moving forward with the practical work of systems change. The biggest challenge of all when it comes to RJ in schools is for leaders to create space for teachers, students, families, and community to establish a culture of trust, inclusion, collaboration, and respect. All of these actions are needed for RJ change to take root. Figure 1 shows major themes from our review of literature and findings of actions or approaches necessary for successful RJ implementation.

Conclusion The purpose of this chapter has been fulfilled in that we have examined leadership practice as schools continue to move away from zero tolerance policies to RJ practices. We engaged in discourse between literature on leadership practices in RJ implementation and our experiences researching and implementing restorative practices in schools. Also, we described lessons we learned while engaging with the leadership of two middle schools involved in implementing RJ. We then provided practical recommendations that leaders can use to support change initiatives aimed at more socially just disciplinary policies and practices that dismantle exclusion and marginalization.

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Moral Purpose Expressed Through Values by Social Justice School Leaders in the Baltic

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Terms, Meanings, and Challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moral Purpose and Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Baltic Contextualization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Interviews with Baltic Principals and Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Baltic Principal Values Related to Social Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reflection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Moral purpose is the foundation of leadership. Social justice-oriented school leadership actions are shaped by moral purpose. It has been described as principled behavior connected to something greater than ourselves involving human and social development. This chapter operationalizes moral purpose expressed through values as the basis of leadership. Data presented demonstrate how moral purpose expressed through universal values support social justice school leaders through common understandings with other educators. Social justice leadership as conveyed is about taking responsibility for deconstructing and reconstructing Author’s Note The research for this chapter was carried out by the author, a Fulbright Scholar, who was sponsored by the US Department of State in partnership with the University of Latvia. Colleagues contributing to data collection were Dr. Ilze Ivanova, University of Latvia; Dr. Milda Damkuvienė and Dr. Jūratė Valuckienė, Šiauliai University, Lithuania; and Dr. Karmen Trasberg, Tartu University, Estonia. J. S. Tripses (*) Department of Education, Counseling, and Leadership, Bradley University, Peoria, IL, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_85

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policies and procedures, and for accepting responsibility to confront unstructured, novel problems. Evidence for this claim is presented through interviews with six school principals (called Directors in their countries) from Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. Each principal was designated as a social justice school leader by other professionals familiar with their work. As social justice pioneers in their countries, these principals personify social justice school leadership in parts of the world where the term social justice is not part of scholarly discourse. Baltic social justice school leaders can inform social justice school leadership scholarship and practice based upon the premise that moral purpose involves universal human principles or values identified as truth, respect, responsibility, fairness, and compassion. Hopefully, the stories of the Baltic social justice school leaders who worked with other civic professionals in their countries to renew national identities can inform educators. This research was conducted by a Fulbright Scholar who was sponsored by the US Department of State in partnership with the University of Latvia. Keywords

Social justice school leaders · Moral purpose · Values · Universal values · Principles · Decision-making · Ethics · Diversity

Introduction Moral purpose is the foundation of leadership. Social justice-oriented school leadership actions are shaped by moral purpose. It has been described as principled behavior connected to something greater than ourselves involving human and social development (Fullan 2020; Sergiovanni 1992, 1999). Furman (2003) described it this way: “Moral purpose is the focus of leadership studies as it ought to be, not just the ethics and values of leaders themselves, but how these values get translated into institutional change” (p. 1). This educational leadership researcher was referring to ways that leadership works when confronting novel and difficult problems. Moral purpose requires leadership that goes far beyond compliance toward bureaucratic rules or authorities. And, moral leadership requires thoughtful consideration of the value, meaning, and purpose of schooling followed by subsequent actions to meet increasingly diverse and complex challenges in pluralistic societies (Lyman et al. 2005). The context of a school principal’s responsibility always involves discretion related to decisions in terms of how to handle (or not handle) a situation involving a need presented by a student or family whose requirements for learning do not neatly fit the available program or way of doing things (Sergiovanni 1999). Principals who fail to devote attention to conditions that impede some students’ progress in school have likely accepted positions used to justify status quo actions by educators towards a particular group or individual student. Excuses that blame victims, such as students are lazy or their parents do not care about them, are just that – excuses.

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Principals who persist in questioning the status quo and working with others to overcome negative consequences for students whose needs do not easily satisfy expectations are bucking the system. Such principals are social justice school leaders. In this chapter I intend to illustrate how moral purpose expressed through values is the foundation of leadership that allows social justice school leaders to collaborate with other educators to serve all students. Evidence is presented based upon interviews with six social justice school principals (commonly called Directors in their countries) from Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. The interviews took place between the spring of 2018 and fall of 2019. Social justice is not a familiar term in educational circles in the Baltic states, but brief explanations forged common understandings. One might reasonably ask what can be learned about social justice school leadership from three relatively small, not well-known countries. Because all three countries have devoted the last 30 years to reclaiming their national identities after over 50 years of occupation and oppression, the stories of these principals reveal educational pioneers at work reclaiming national identities. Baltic social justice school leaders can inform social justice school leadership scholarship and practice based upon the premise that moral purpose involves universal human principles or values identified in this chapter as truth, respect, responsibility, fairness, and compassion.

Terms, Meanings, and Challenges There were several complexities involved in this writing on social justice school leaders. In order to write about social justice school leadership based upon interviews conducted in three countries where the term social justice is not commonly understood by educators, I needed to be sensitive. I was aware of needing to have sensitivity toward cultural differences between my own culture and the cultures of my participants. In all cases, university faculty and principals understood the concept of social justice with minimal explanation. However, as the researcher, I was careful to avoid questions about life during Soviet times. A short story illustrates my reasoning. Late in our time in Riga, my husband and I took a canal ride along the Daugava River. One of the other passengers was a German history professor, who asked the boat captain to explain his opinion about which language should be used in Latvia. Latvians (as well as Lithuanians and Estonians) were not allowed to speak their native language during Soviet times. The captain shrugged as if the question was inconsequential, and said, “It’s part of our history” in a way that clearly conveyed “Enough said.” Language is only one of the societal issues left by the Russians. The citizens of these countries are living with the realities of years of occupation and residents from other countries who prefer to remain in whichever Baltic country because the living conditions are preferable. This opinion was offered by a Canadian North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) officer at a St. Patrick’s Day celebration sponsored by the Irish Embassy. My reason for mentioning these two memories is to explain my

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position as a researcher during the interviews. I stuck to the questions and only know what I was told by the principals. Some were more open than others about Soviet times. In respect to the experiences of citizens in Baltic countries during their 50-plus year’s occupation by the Soviets, I did not pry. Another challenge was how to use data from interview questions that related to but did not specifically ask participants to define their moral purpose. Still, based upon the assertion by educational leadership scholars that moral purpose is the foundation of leadership practice (Fullan 2003; Furman 2003, 2012; Hargreaves and Shirley 2009; Sergiovanni 1992, 1999), I addressed the need to gain an understanding of moral purpose from the interview questions about social justice school leadership. In other words, how does “principled behavior” apply in all cultures? To answer this question, I elected to use the term values to characterize principled behavior, recognizing that some will object to the shift from the term moral purpose or principled behavior to values based on etymology. The need to establish a greater understanding of the term on an international scale overrode issues of term specificity. Greater clarity about the terms used in this chapter is needed. Beginning with principled behavior as the definition of moral purpose, what is the meaning of the term principle? Merriam-Webster (2021) defines principle as a comprehensive and fundamental law, doctrine, or assumption; moral of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior; ethical as to value something such as a principle or quality; and finally values as a person’s principles or standards of behavior; one's judgment of what is important in life.

Overlooking the somewhat circular nature of these definitions, the conclusion drawn here is that the terms are related and, while frequently used interchangeably, the distinctions are important. Moral purpose is defined as “a value that, when articulated, appeals to the innate sense held by some (or many) individuals of what is right and what is worthwhile” (Speaks 2018, para. 2). Five universal values – truth, respect, responsibility, fairness, and compassion – are commonly identified. Descriptions of these values have been provided by the nonprofit Institute for Global Ethics (2021), which strives to be: Honest and truthful in all our dealings [truth] Respectful and mindful of the dignity of every individual [respect] Responsible and accountable in every transaction [responsibility] Fair and equitable in each relationship [fairness] Compassionate and caring in each situation [compassion]. (para. 3)

Accounting for the importance of identifying and naming these same values, Kidder and Born (2019) explained that these: 1. Help individuals and groups understand that there are shared values and that these transcend our own time and place 2. Provide much-needed glue with societies with great racial and ethnic diversity 3. Are common despite deep religious differences

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The reasoning provided by these researchers transcends problems related to social justice school leadership in countries where this kind of leadership is not commonly written about or understood. Earlier, Begley (1999) defined values as “those conceptions of the desirable which motivate individuals and collective groups to act in particular ways to achieve particular ends” (p. 237). Moral leadership or purpose expressed through values requires motivation beyond compliance towards bureaucratic rules or authorities. Social justice school leaders develop the capacity to conceptualize and articulate leadership that incorporates democratic community engagement, spirituality, emotion, caring, and connection. Over time, these leaders develop congruence between values and practice, moving beyond philosophical rhetoric into more realistic, hard-won social justice practice.

Moral Purpose and Social Justice Social justice, as conceived in western cultures, primarily Britain, Canada, Australia, and the United States, does not readily transport to other countries or cultures (Bogotch 2014, 2002; Bolman and Deal 2017). That does not mean that societal values related to western conceptions of social justice are not present in other societies. Social justice addresses the spectrum of human tendencies to confront blatantly unjust practices to social justice leadership writ large, which seeks to address moral purposes of schools and advocate for traditionally marginalized students (Furman 2003; Larson and Murtadha 2005; Lugg and Shoho 2006). In order to better understand social justice in cultures outside one’s own, it is important to respect differences. More than this, it is crucial to establish common understanding based upon mutual tolerances of history, culture, tensions, and deeply held principles of backgrounds different from one’s own. The term social justice is elusive, politically laden, and subject to multiple interpretations based upon history, culture, and abilities to distinguish between individual discrimination and institutionalized oppression (Lugg and Shoho 2006; Sensoy and DiAngelo 2017). The foundation of social justice is rooted in theology, social work, and educational disciplines like curriculum and pedagogy where it has deep connections (Apple 2011; Darling-Hammond et al. 2002; Darling-Hammond 2010; Freire 1993). Social justice, however, is a relatively new term for school leadership development and practice (Furman 2003; Shoho et al. 2011). As I stated, moral purpose expressed through values is the foundation of all leadership practice. Furman (2003) stated that moral purpose must go beyond the ethics and values of leaders themselves to consider how these values get translated into institutional change. Social justice school principals express moral purpose through values to accomplish these ends: 1. Develop common understandings through dialogue based upon values 2. Accept responsibility to deconstruct and reconstruct schools to create an equitable treatment for all students, including questioning policies and procedures 3. Accept responsibility to confront unstructured, novel problems together with others. (Dantley and Tillman 2006; Fullan 2020; Heifetz and Linsky 2017)

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Dantley and Tillman (2006) summarized conceptualizations and definitions of social justice as emphasizing “moral values, justice, equity, care, and respect and the imperative for investigating the impact of race, ethnicity, class, gender, sexual orientation, and disability on the educational outcomes of students” (p. 23). They also identified five specific characteristics that can be applied to definitions of social justice school leaders, which are: 1. A consciousness of the broader social, cultural, and political contexts of schools 2. The critique of marginalizing behaviors and predispositions of schools and their leadership 3. A commitment to the more genuine enactment of democratic principles in schools 4. A moral obligation to articulate a counter-hegemonic vision or narrative of hope regarding education 5. A determination to move from rhetoric to civil rights activism (p. 23) Social justice in schools does not happen accidentally. It takes intention, skill, and constant attention. My definition of a social justice school leader is one who sees injustice in ways that others do not, and who has the moral purpose, skill, and necessary relationships to combat injustice for the benefit of all students (Tripses et al. 2020). Social justice school leadership differs from one culture to another. Each of the 190 nations in the world is challenged to re-center how it defines educational quality for its citizens (Bogotch 2014). One of the greatest challenges in an increasingly interdependent global environment is the need for leaders – who identify with, and value, members of their own group – to simultaneously accept and live with differences, and, most importantly, value other socio-economic, racial, and ethnic groups (Gardner 2009).

Baltic Contextualization In 1991 when the Soviet Union collapsed, each of the Baltic countries (Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia) began the work of recreating a civic society based upon the principles and history of their people. All three have made progress in transitioning from a Soviet system to a democratic system defined by citizens, but significant work remains (Kalnins 2015). Each country includes members of the population who identify with the original Baltic country or the country of origin from which they came to the Baltics during the 50-year “Soviet times.” Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, German, and Polish individuals were encouraged to migrate to the Baltics to work in Soviet businesses and factories (King and McNabb 2014). As Bogotch and Shields (2014) wrote, social justice falls within an educator’s agenda and is fundamental for the commitment to educating and becoming aware citizens. Recognizing that social justice is always context-specific to a particular school setting, great organization, structure, or country, this research project sought to deepen understanding of ways social justice is employed, defined, and implemented in Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia.

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Interviews with Baltic Principals and Methods Interviews were with four Latvian, one Lithuanian, and one Estonian principal. The six principals and their schools varied significantly. One school was in a rural area, two were in a large urban city (population 692,000), one in a resort town (population 50,000) on the Baltic Sea, another in a university town (population 100,000), and one in a town 33 miles from Riga with a population of 16,000. Principals volunteered their age (they were not asked) so it is known that they ranged from 37 to 77 years old. This is significant given that they represented a population of school leaders that experienced “Soviet times” and independence at different points in their lives. Two of the principals had served in their national educational agencies providing them, in different ways, broader perspectives on national educational issues, problems, and policies. Another two principals were early in their careers as teachers when the Soviet Union collapsed in the early 1990s. The last two did not train as educators but were recruited to lead a school – these principals sought graduate-level training in education, which is reflected in their practice. One principal was active throughout the 1980s and 1990s on the national level teaching and learning more about education in the world outside Soviet influence. The interview transcripts and notes from the six Baltic social justice leaders were reviewed to determine ways the principals demonstrated the five universal values (truth, respect, responsibility, fairness, and compassion) to explain how social justice school leadership occurs in six very different schools in three countries. Conclusions reported here should not be generalized to all Baltic country school leaders. The research method employed for the interviews is case study, and results from case studies are not generalizable (Creswell and Creswell 2018). The principals were identified by local university faculty as having characteristics of social justice school leaders using the snowball research method of identifying research subjects. Their schools were radically different: Two were private with relatively small enrollments, one was a technical art school with an enrollment of 950 students, another was a gymnasium high school with 500 students whose attendance reflected high academic achievement, one school was in a relatively poor rural area, and the last was a large K-12 school with 1050 students. The International School Leadership Development Network (ISLDN n.d.) is a social justice group of researchers, guided by research questions and a common methodological approach, which undertakes work in diverse international contexts. One criterion of participation is to conduct an interview of a recognized social justice school leader using these questions: 1. 2. 3. 4.

How do social justice leaders make sense of “social justice”? What do social justice leaders do? What factors help and hinder the work of social justice leadership? How did social justice leaders learn to become social justice leaders?

The overarching purpose of the collaboration is to work toward deeper understandings of what social justice school leadership means in different settings.

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Each interview question required the interviewee (principal) to reveal values used to make sense of social justice, explain what social justice leadership entails, identify barriers to social justice in their schools, and describe ways in which the leader came to understand and practice justice in their professional practice. For the ISLDN interview protocols, principals were identified prior to being interviewed as a social justice school leader. Additionally, they were given the interview questions ahead of time, which allowed time to prepare. Responses were all corroborated by evidence noted during the interview and in the transcript.

Baltic Principal Values Related to Social Justice Using leadership actions motivated by moral purpose expressed through values, I turn now to how these principals developed common understandings through dialogue based upon values. All six principals interviewed employed leadership actions designed to approach difficult problems in ways that sought to achieve consensus on difficult problems. Their practices were similar in the three countries despite being in very different kinds of schools and circumstances. Without hesitation, each one described talking through problems with decision-makers at their school. Some situations required bringing parents into the conversation. These conversations required political and interpersonal skills, and knowledge of their community, teaching, and learning, to name a few. But underlying each conversation were values of truth, respect, responsibility, fairness, and compassion. A Latvian principal described how she talks with parents and the students involved to resolve discipline issues. As stated, the school has a culture of behavior, meaning that problems are dealt with and all involved are expected to move on after the issue is resolved. Another Latvian principal shared that he does not hide problems, but rather works with his Deputies (assistant principals in other systems) with the attitude that the team can and will resolve the problem. He expects teachers to solve problems – this is challenging to some teachers who seemed to feel that is his job to be the problem solver because that is how it worked in Soviet times and for many years after Independence when his predecessor led the school. To him, some teachers do not want to take the time necessary for shared decision-making; nonetheless, he provides support in terms of professional development and training to equip all teachers. The Lithuanian principal explained, “When resources are limited the only way is to keep working together.” He went on to say that the school is the only community institution in the small rural community, a responsibility he seems to take very seriously. The next leadership category based upon moral purpose expressed through values is accepting responsibility to deconstruct and reconstruct schools to create an equitable treatment for all students, including questioning policies and procedures. The interview questions asked principals to describe a situation where social justice worked for a student. The Lithuanian principal mentioned several times during the interview that he preferred the term social responsibility over social justice. Recall that social justice is

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not commonly known in the Baltic countries. This principal explained how he uses social responsibility with his teachers: “We have a saying – the essence of the matter is not the child but filling a report that says I have made the required steps.” This principal required that teachers and others in the community work together to solve problems in the child’s best interest. While I was not able to verify that claim during the interview, I can attest to the highly functional condition of the school and outlying grounds for children. Social responsibility was fully evident in the BMX track outside the very old school, the community center on the grounds that the principal referred to in the interview, the garden tended to by kindergarten students, and so much more. The school grounds demonstrated a well-cared for, child-friendly environment. Another incident that happened during the interview demonstrates this principal’s value of respect towards others. A student knocked on the door where the interview was being conducted. The principal gave his full attention to the student’s request, told him where to find what he needed, and then returned to those of us gathered for the interview. Keep in mind that the interchange between the principal and the student was conducted in Lithuanian, so my notes are based upon nonverbal communication. That brief exchange demonstrated deep respect between the school leader and student. As a former principal myself who has visited many schools in the 20 years I have been at a university, the mutual respect between student and principal was evident to me. Not all schools I have visited in the past appear to show respect for their students. Another question in the ISLDN interview protocol asks principals what social justice means to them. A Latvian principal stated that she treats students like people, a simple statement that perfectly defines the value of respect. I visited that school five times during my 5 months in Latvia because a colleague in the United States asked me if I would engage a Latvian school in an exchange program with fifth graders in my local community in the American Midwest. Notes affirm the manner in which this principal “treats students like people.” During my visits to her school, students were often in her office working on some kind of project. The enrollment of this school was 1050. Many principals would not engage so directly with students in a school this large, unlike this principal. During the exchange project with the American school, I was invited to speak with classes of students who were 11 years old. The orderly and respectful manner that teachers orchestrated students from three classrooms to gather into one room impressed this former elementary teacher. The students were fully prepared with questions in English for whom English is a second language. Their questions were flawlessly delivered in English. My husband who accompanied me was asked if he preferred Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts for coffee. As the two visiting classes were moving out of the classroom where we gathered, several students rushed forward to ask me questions that had not necessarily been prepared under the direction of their teacher. Their more private questions were respectful and well delivered. One girl said her mother wanted to know my opinion of the American president at that time (the year was 2018). I hope my interactions with students revealed that my extensive experience with school children allowed

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me to respond honestly in ways that represented my country well. My notes reflected the principal’s value of treating students, teachers, and guests as people schoolwide. Both my husband, a retired engineer, and I thoroughly enjoyed our time with the Latvian school children and their teachers. Employing moral purpose expressed through values to question policies and procedures was evident in different ways in the principal’s practices. The two private school principals talked about ways they used interpersonal connections with teachers and parents to accomplish justice for students. The Estonian principal talked about a student who left his former school because he had been bullied. She recounted that the mother was amazed that the student would go willingly with the principal to his new classroom. The principal and the teachers worked through both the mother’s and student’s fears about how he would be accepted and treated in his new school. This example demonstrates procedures, too common in many schools, where practices fail to effectively denounce bullying. This principal expected respectful treatment of this student and worked to make sure that that was his experience. A Latvian principal of a private school created the school at the time of Independence for the sole purpose of breaking from “Soviet-style” educational methods. An avid reader, through connections with the Latvian Ministry of Education and the American Embassy, he was granted $10,000 in the early 1990s to purchase books on educational practices outside Soviet influence. He organized and presented workshops for several years during this time of transition to Latvian teachers on educational practices during the summer. He arranged for teachers to visit schools throughout Europe that used innovative methods of instruction, a practice that clearly broke from Soviet practices during this period of Latvian history. His engagement of educators conveyed the values of truth, respect, and responsibility, and he defined social justice as ethics. This principal regarded Plato’s four cardinal virtues – prudence, courage, temperance, and justice – as fundamentally important in education. Ethics is more important than rules, he said. To create a Latvian code of ethics for teachers, this Latvian principal initiated the process and worked with 10 other Latvians, including a philosophy professor from the University of Latvia, in the late 1980s – the Soviet Union was collapsing. Language prevented me from using a copy of this document since it is written in Latvian, which I do not read. In every action, this principal was questioning the status quo of Soviet education while, at the same time, actively working to create new educational practices based upon Latvian identity. The last method evidencing principals’ moral purpose expressed through values is to accept responsibility to confront unstructured, novel problems together with others (Dantley and Tillman 2010; Fullan 2020; Heifetz and Linsky 2017). Leithwood and Steinbach (1995) determined that principals who are expert problem solvers employ values in their problem solving while less expert principals succumb to political, social, convenience, or other kinds of pressure when making decisions. The research of Leithwood and Steinbach’s focuses on ways individual principals make decisions. Collective decisions are made based on what is best for the student only if the principal holds whichever decision-making group is convened to address

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the unstructured, novel problem to the same values they employed to make their individual decision. As stated earlier, all six principals were emphatic about using dialogue with decision-makers in their schools to resolve issues that arose when their school’s regular educational practices failed to meet the needs of a particular student or group of student. So, moral purpose expressed through values can be seen as involving both individual and collective values. In this case, principals are employing moral purpose to resolve nonstructured problems and strengthen the common commitment of the collected group of educators to values. Senge (2006) characterized such leadership behavior as a shared vision. Social justice school leaders develop common commitment by publicly sharing how their values are reflected in the decisions they make and by establishing criteria upon which thorny decisions must be made. The Lithuanian principal illustrated this practice when asked what he valued in education, responding: I find democracy very important in education. In this case, democracy means more principles, more values – it’s not anarchy, it’s not disordered – there is much discussion because education in a democratic society should be based on learning to find common agreements and living in such an environment. . . We give considerable attention to working out collective agreements, even though they are often not very convenient for adults.

Language is a hotly debated topic in the three former Soviet countries because during “Soviet times” all civic business, including education, was conducted in Russian. Complicating the issue are the expatriate individuals imported during Soviet times, such as Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, German, and Polish people. Some who have remained lost benefits they enjoyed during Soviet times. So, language represents many unresolved issues, different in each Baltic country. One Latvian principal, who shared the most information about Soviet times, told me that if a Latvian and an individual who identifies as Russian meet on the street, the two will automatically switch to Russian to converse. His observation cannot be verified, but it does demonstrate power issues that remain 30 years after Independence. Principals talked about ways that language presented social justice issues in their schools and how they were resolved. A Latvian principal whose school advertises as an English Grammar School recounted a situation with a high school student from China. Graduation from a Latvian high school requires passing a test administered in Latvian, which is not the student’s native language. Both the principals and her deputies believed this restriction was unfair to the student. The principal went to the Ministry of Education seeking remedy for the student, but the request was denied. The student was not allowed even minimal support such as a Chinese- Latvian dictionary to take the qualifying tests. The principal turned then to her directors and teachers who worked with the student to create a solution that would allow him to qualify for graduation. The student worked with teachers who tutored him daily to improve his language skills. Another Latvian principal shared other challenges related to language issues. Russian students are taught in Latvian at this Art and Technical School and, at first,

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these students were provided separate programs and language support systems. But she said that, after a time, teachers, deputies, and the principal determined that Russian students were better off in the regular classes. Her other example related to language involved students who were deaf. She said that because the student work is primarily performance-oriented, other students are the best help for them. The Estonian principal related issues in her student population that were more cultural than language oriented. This is because the school is private and brands itself as an International English school. Most of the students came from advantaged backgrounds. The principal has worked with parents whose cultural backgrounds and understandings about how schools are to be conducted differ from this school. She also said that she has had to work with such parents to develop common understandings about how this school functions. In each case cited here, the principal employed values of truth, respect, responsibility, compassion, and caring to confront and resolve unstructured problems with others. Usually, other educators were the main decision-makers, but parents were necessarily brought into the conversations involving the Chinese student and parents were engaged who did not understand cultural differences between the Estonian school and schools in their homeland.

Reflection The six Baltic country social justice school leaders, as described in this chapter, support the assertion that moral purpose based upon principled behavior is the foundation of leadership. The question emerged on how to operationalize “principled behavior.” Specific leadership actions in countries where scholarship about social justice is more fully developed, such as Britain, Canada, the United States, Australia, and New Zealand, have been described by Dantley and Tillman (2010); Fullan (2020); and Heifetz and Linsky (2017). Those leadership actions involve (1) developing common understandings through dialogue based upon values; (2) accepting responsibility to deconstruct and reconstruct schools to create an equitable treatment for all students, including questioning policies and procedures; and (3) accepting responsibility to confront unstructured, novel problems together with others. Each leadership behavior was exemplified through interviews with identified social justice school leaders in Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. The next issue to be resolved had to do with identifying principled behavior in cultures where social justice is not commonly understood. To resolve that problem, universally identified values were employed, recognizing that principled behaviors and values will likely not be considered interchangeable in all circles. I accept that risk in order to be respectful of the unique experiences of the three countries since World War II. Each country endured 50-plus years of Soviet occupation. In the approximately 30 years since Independence in the early 1990s, each principal interviewed is in my view a pioneer helping to recreate the civic foundations and identities in their countries. Every principal talked about democracy at some point in their interview. Readers are cautioned to recognize that democracy is unique in every nation-state and that it is critical not to quickly assume an understanding of what the principal means.

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My understanding of social justice deepened immensely during the 5 months my husband and I lived in Riga. Foremost, I learned that social injustice wears many faces around the world. The principals interviewed who helped me understand anew how to recognize injustice name it for what it is, and work with others based upon universal values to create justice. My admiration for the citizens of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia is immeasurable. They are clear about who they are in part because for 50 years they were denied the right to claim their identity. They figured out how to become social justice school leaders on their own. One Latvian principal cited Fullan’s (2002) ideas about moral purpose writ large whereas no other principal acknowledged familiarity with scholarship about leadership. I am honored to have worked with this group of principals and look forward to the time when my husband and I can return.

Conclusion As this chapter is written, the entire planet finds itself in the throes of a pandemic of consuming proportions that have affected humanity in ways yet to be calculated or understood. What we do know is that COVID-19 has disproportionately affected some categories of humans more than others. In the United States, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2020) stated that “long-standing systemic health and social inequities have put many people from racial and ethnic minority groups at increased risk of getting sick and dying from COVID-19” (para. 1). The post goes on to state that some portions of American society experience conditions that make them more vulnerable to the disease. Education or lack of it, a major indicator of well-being, is a factor in the disparities. The outcomes or effects of this pandemic are not fully understood at this point, but the reality that COVID-19 has laid bare societal inequities that are having and will continue to have devastating consequences on some citizens more than others is clear. No one knows with certainty how the world will come out of this pandemic crisis. What is very clear is that all countries will need strong civic leaders empowered as social justice leaders who can work together with others to carry on the critical work of education. The purpose of this chapter was to show how moral purpose expressed through values allows social justice school leaders to collaborate with other educators to serve all students. Hopefully, the stories of the Baltic social justice school leaders who worked with other civic professionals in their countries to renew national identities can inform educators post-pandemic to confront social justice school issues.

References Apple, M. (2011). Global crisis, social justice, and teacher education. Journal of Teacher Education, 62(2), 222–234. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022487110385428. Begley, P. T. (Ed.). (1999). Values and educational leadership. New York: SUNY Press. Bogotch, I. E. (2002). Educational leadership and social justice: Practice into theory. Journal of school leadership, 12(2), 138–156.

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Bogotch, I. (2014). Educational theory: The specific case of social justice as an educational leadership construct. In I. Bogotch & C. M. Shields (Eds.), International handbook of educational leadership and social [in]justice (Vol. 1, pp. 51–66). New York: Springer. Bogotch, I., & Shields, C. M. (Eds.). (2014). International handbook of educational leadership and social [in]justice (Vol. 1 and 2). New York: Springer. Bolman, L. G., & Deal, T. E. (2017). Reframing organizations (6th ed.). San Francisco: JosseyBass. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2020, July 24). Health equity considerations and racial and ethnic minority groups. Retrieved from https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/6-ncov/ community/health-equity/race-ethnicity.html Creswell, J. W., & Creswell, J. D. (2018). Research design: Qualitative, quantitative, and mixed methods approaches. Thousand Oaks: Sage. Dantley, M., & Tillman, L. (2006). Social justice and moral transformative leadership. In C. Marshall & M. Oliva (Eds.), Leadership for social justice: Making revolutions in education, 16–30. Darling-Hammond, L. (2010). The flat world and education: How America’s commitment to equity will determine our future. New York: Teachers College Press. Darling-Hammond, L., French, J., & Garcia-Lopez, S. (2002). Learning to teach for social justice. New York: Teachers College Press. Freire, P. (1993). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum International Publishing. Fullan, M. (2002). Moral purpose writ large. AASA School Administrator, 1–6. Retrieved from http://michaelfullan.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/13396048660.pdf Fullan, M. (2003). The moral imperative of school leadership. Thousand Oaks: Corwin Press. Fullan, M. (2020). Leading in a culture of change (2nd ed.). Hoboken: Jossey-Bass. Furman, G. C. (2003). The 2002 UCEA presidential address: Toward a new scholarship of educational leadership? UCEA Review, 45(1), 1–6. Furman, G. C. (2012). Social justice leadership as praxis: Developing capacities through preparation programs. Educational Administration Quarterly, 48(2), 191–229. Gardner, H. (2009). Five minds for the future. Boston: Harvard Business Publishing. Hargreaves, A., & Shirley, D. (2009). The fourth way: The inspiring future for educational change. Thousand Oaks: Corwin Press. Heifetz, R., & Linsky, M. (2017). Leadership on the line: Staying alive through the dangers of change. Boston: Harvard Business Publishing. Institute for Global Ethics. (2021). Ethical news & 21st century culture. Retrieved from https:// knox.villagesoup.com/p/ethical-news-21st-century-culture/724099?page¼4&numFirst¼20 International School Leadership Development Network. (n.d.). Social justice group. Retrieved from https://isldn.weebly.com/social-justice.html Kalnins, M. (2015). Latvia: A short history. London, UK: Hurst & Company Publishers. Kidder, R. M., & Born, P. L. (2019). Moral courage in a world of dilemmas. The School Administrator. Retrieved from https://www.aasa.org/schooladministratorarticle.aspx? id¼4148#:~:text¼The%20Institute%20for%20Global%20Ethics,shared%20values%20for%20 King, G. J., & McNabb, D. E. (2014). Nation-building in the Baltic states: Transforming governance, social welfare, and security in northern Europe. Boca Raton: CRC Press. Larson, C. L., & Murtadha, K. (2005). Leadership for social justice. Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education, 101(1), 134–161. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1744-7984.2002. tb00007.x. Leithwood, K., & Steinbach, R. (1995). Expert problem solving: Evidence from school and district leaders. New York: State University of New York Press. Lugg, C. A., & Shoho, A. R. (2006). Dare public school administrators build a new social order? Social justice and the possibly perilous politics of educational leadership. Journal of Educational Administration, 44(3), 196–208. Lyman, L. L., Ashby, D. E., & Tripses, J. S. (2005). Leaders who dare: Pushing the boundaries. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Education.

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Merriam-Webster. (2021). Principle. Retrieved from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ principle Senge, P. (2006). The fifth discipline: Art and practice of the learning organization. New York: Currency Doubleday. Sensoy, O., & DiAngelo, R. (Eds.). (2017). Is everyone really equal? An introduction to key concepts in social justice education (2nd ed.). New York: Teachers College Press. Sergiovanni, T. (1992). Moral leadership: Getting to the heart of school improvement. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Sergiovanni, T. (1999). Rethinking leadership. Arlington Heights: Skylight Training and Publishing. Shoho, A. R., Merchant, B. M., & Lugg, C. A. (2011). Social justice: Seeking a common language. In F. W. English (Ed.), The SAGE handbook of educational leadership: Advances in theory, research, and practice (2nd ed., pp. 36–54). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Speaks, T. (2018). Moral purpose: Understanding why you do what you do. Retrieved from https:// blog.igpr.com/moral-purpose-understanding-why-you-do-what-you-do Tripses, J. S., Damkuvienė, M., & Valuckiene, J. (2020). Creative social justice school leadership to rebuild home. Unpublished manuscript.

Principals’ Responsibility for Helping Impoverished Students Succeed in Rural Appalachia

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Emily T. Boyles and Carol A. Mullen

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Overview and Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Literature Reviewed on School–Family Partnership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Education Leaders’ Role in Family Engagement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Family Engagement Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Principals Mostly Attributed the Academic Success of Their School to Staff . . . . . . . . . . . . . Not Having Their Basic Needs Met Was the Greatest Challenge for Poor, Rural Students . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Having a Welcoming Atmosphere That Fosters Engagement for All Families Was an Administrative Priority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . After-School Family Engagement Activities Are Supportive of Parents’ Schedules . . . . . . Traditional Activities Attracted the Highest Family Participation in the Schools . . . . . . . . . Inadequate Funding Prevented Program Development and Implementation for Engaging Families . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sign-In Sheets Were Used at the Schools to Monitor Family Engagement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Transportation Was a Major Barrier to Family Engagement in the Rural School Areas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Parents Who Were Educators in the Schools Contributed to the Title I Schoolwide Plan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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E. T. Boyles Coordinator of English Learner Professional Development, Grayson County Public Schools, Independence, VA, USA Fortune School of Education-Graduate School, Sacramento, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] C. A. Mullen (*) School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_93

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Synthesis, Implications, and Recommendations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Synthesis of Interview-Based Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Practitioner Implications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Policy Implications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recommendations for Further Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary and Looking Ahead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Authentic and effective family engagement requires intense commitment from school principals in economically distressed areas. This chapter focuses on what leaders do to form strong school–family relationships that potentially improve the overall success of students living in impoverished rural communities. Interview data pertaining to six principals serving Title I elementary schools in Appalachia were analyzed for the original qualitative research described. Strategies practicing principals use to strengthen their school culture through school–family relationships were identified through their reflective self-reports. The findings shed light on principals’ roles in fostering and improving key relationships, and advocating for student achievement and overall success. This study contributes to research on school–family partnerships from the instructional leader’s experiential viewpoint. The particular attention given to rural Appalachia may have value beyond this geographic region for other ruralities challenged by poverty. Keywords

Elementary school · Family engagement · Parental involvement · Poverty · Principal · Rural · Student achievement · Title I

Introduction Overview and Questions To better understand parental involvement in a child’s education, it is important to examine context and its influence on best practices (Epstein 2011). Day and Dotterer (2018) found that parental involvement strategies are associated with an increase in adolescents’ academic achievement regardless of socioeconomic status. An additional discovery was that while “parental educational involvement tends to decline as children age, it continues to be an important means of support for high school students’ academic outcomes” (p. 1346). By productively monitoring their children’s academic progress and emphasizing education as a value, parents can facilitate greater academic success (Ross 2016). Many researchers (e.g., Auerbach 2009; Bearden 2018; Bradley 2010; Mullen 2014) discuss the need for authentic and effective family engagement. School teams are urged to work with families and communities–partners in education–to advance

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understanding of realities like poverty and disconnection from families and communities faced by students living in rural areas (Annie E. Casey Foundation 2017; Mullen and Patrick 2000). This chapter focuses on principals’ family engagement strategies used to strengthen partnerships for aiding student development and success in high-poverty, low-opportunity rural Appalachian schools. The question framing this original qualitative research was, “What family engagement strategies do elementary principals use to strengthen school–family partnerships in high-poverty, rural schools?” Secondary questions were, “What family engagement strategies do principals use in Title I elementary schools within rural Appalachia, Virginia? Why do they think the strategies are helpful in improving school achievement? What family engagement strategies do principals wish they could implement in Title I schools? What may be preventing them from implementing these strategies within their schools? Why do these principals think the strategies could help with improving school achievement?” As school and university educators working in rural Appalachia, we (the authors) hope that benefits will accrue from presenting school–family engagement strategies that support young students’ academic achievement within economically depressed ruralities.

Literature Reviewed on School–Family Partnership Next, regarding school–family partnerships, two areas of the literature are addressed: education leaders’ role in family engagement and strategies to this end.

Education Leaders’ Role in Family Engagement In order to promote equitable and empowering education for the children in their buildings, principals working in high-poverty school communities need to foster effective family engagement. Education leaders and their constituents need to understand that state-level school funding allocations hit low-income families and schools the hardest. Along these lines, Darling-Hammond (2019) has long produced the relevant statistics and storied their meaning. Notably, the high child poverty rate in the United States—one in four children live in poverty—means that many children live with food and housing insecurity, lack healthcare, and experience other adverse conditions. These challenges require schools to provide a range of services to enable these children to focus on learning. (para. 4)

Significant funding disparities typify US state funding allocations, she further explained: “In 2015, only 12 states allocated more funds to districts in which student poverty is high [and only 5 of these states] also funded education at a level of adequacy that enables students to receive the resources they need” (para. 5). The responsibility of education leaders in understanding poverty’s effect on students has been underscored in studies (e.g., Auerbach 2009; Bradley 2010;

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Darling-Hammond 2019; Mullen 2014; Mullen and Kealy 2012; Mullen and Patrick 2000; Touchton and Acker-Hocevar 2001). These researchers underscored that school practitioners (mainly principals and teachers) must be willing to act on behalf of economically impoverished student populations, and should educate parents and other stakeholders about best practices for supporting a child’s education. To purposefully and successfully serve students and families, administrators must possess strong communication and public relations skills. In Turkey, Çoruk (2018) examined public relations and the principalship role based on interviews with 13 principals working at different schooling levels. It was found that they were aware of public relations for enabling schools to connect with the public and, specifically, for improving family engagement and communication. However, an issue detected is that the principals carried out “routine activities rather than planned and programmed activities” (p. 145), suggestive of the need for much-expanded programming involving parents and families. To this end, a recommendation was for public relations specialists to be placed in such schools, with the mission of supporting effective programming for school–family partnerships, which the principals agreed was essential. Budge and Parrett (2018) also acknowledged the importance of disrupting comfort zones to examine principalship practices aimed at overcoming inequities created by poverty. Many times, these inequities prevent parents or guardians from fully participating in the child’s education. Moreover, schools are often seen by low-income families as an unwelcome environment, making it even more difficult for connections to occur. Principals are tasked with eliciting change in this regard and to cultivate trusting relationships among school staff, students, parents, and community leaders, thereby building capacity for child well-being and success.

Family Engagement Strategies Family engagement is defined as techniques used by school systems to involve parents and families in the educational process. To ensure authentic engagement, school leaders must put time into creating lasting relationships with families (Bearden 2018). Kronholz (2016) defined school–family partnerships as relationships built between school and home to forge trust among stakeholders. According to Bearden, leaders in education should dig deeper and ask questions to learn more from the families they serve. They can enact authentic family engagement by proactively encouraging family participation. Parents need support and instruction on how to help their children succeed in school and capitalize on resources. Students from low socioeconomic families do not always possess essential language skills for making academic progress and meeting attainment targets (Budge and Parrett 2018; Crowe et al. 2009; Johnson et al. 2017), which implies that parents must also be educated. Preconceptions about poverty and negative biases must be critically examined (Budge and Parrett 2018; Crowe et al. 2009; Johnson et al. 2017; Mullen and Kealy 2012), and stereotypes understood and overcome by leaders and their staff. According to Bearden (2018), educators need to be honest with themselves about

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their own prejudices if they are to develop relationships supportive of students’ overall success: “Culturally competent teachers are not blocked by racial or class stereotypes or overcome by students’ diversity or hardships; instead, they use cultural knowledge as a source for engaging students living in poverty and for connecting with them” (Mullen and Kealy 2012, p. 71). Budge and Parrett (2018) added, “Educators are more likely to change their conceptions if they are allowed to articulate their prior conceptions, are provided with alternative ideas, and are supported to explicitly consider the status of competing ideas within their mental maps” (p. 19). Stereotypes about poverty can thus be disrupted with critical selfreflection, and changed through targeted training and appraisal.

Methodology A two-part data collection process enabled (1) topical literature to be located on school–family partnerships and economically disadvantaged students, and (2) rural principals to be interviewed through reflective self-reports. A search of the university library’s databases yielded peer-reviewed scholarly literature published between 2000 and 2018. Descriptors were extracted from the research questions and initial literature results, with returns focused on rural poverty in relation to elementary school, family engagement, parental involvement, rural, student achievement, principal, and Title I. Our interview guide was informed by pertinent empirical sources. In particular, questions were adapted from Smith et al. (2011) concerning parental involvement in schools and strategies for increasing involvement. Besides pilot testing their questions, they related findings to Epstein’s (2011) Model of School, Family, and Community Partnerships. In this framework, family involvement necessitates authenticity and encompasses family and school obligations, participation in schools and learning activities at home, contribution to decision making, and collaboration with community organizations. To identify potential principal participants, we consulted data applicable to Title I elementary schools in a specific Appalachian region. District superintendents gave their approval for principals to be contacted within the rural school district. Of the 10 eligible elementary principals reached, in 2019, 6 (3 males and 3 females) were interviewed one-on-one and in person. All were leading a Title I school (designated as such owing to the high number of children from low-income families, but the schools differed in their free and reduced lunch rates). Principal A was actually leading two such schools. Interviews with principals were transcribed and consolidated in a Microsoft Excel document. Analysis involved the deductive and inductive coding of keywords. Themes highlighting strategies of family engagement were developed, with interrater reliability established in the coding of the transcriptions. Findings appear as continuous subheads, each of which is followed by interview questions, complete with corresponding analysis that reflects a synthesis of interviewee comments. Direct quotes were preserved to convey a sense of principals’ voices.

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Findings Nine findings, all indicative of the principal interviewees’ perspectives, are each narratively addressed in the descriptive writing. Tables are included that abbreviate the their responses to each interview question.

Principals Mostly Attributed the Academic Success of Their School to Staff An interview prompt asked, “How do you feel your school is performing based on the newest accreditation guidelines provided by your state education department? What are your school’s greatest strengths and in what areas does your school struggle?” In response, five (of the six) principals identified staff as their greatest strength. According to Fisher et al. (2016), “teacher credibility” is made up of “characteristics” like “trust, competence, dynamism, and immediacy” (p. 11). Evidence indicates that teacher credibility positively influences student success, and our interviewees perceived staff credibility as having the most potential for benefitting all students. Table 1 is an abbreviation of the leaders’ responses concerning their school’s greatest strengths. Five principals reported that staff members, including teachers, were outstanding, leading the school to overall success and meeting accreditation standards. Principal B discussed a new initiative in which teachers “adopted” a student to support in hopes of bridging the disconnection in school–family partnerships. Staff members were responsible for checking in weekly with students and their teachers to ensure that certain tasks (e.g., homework, classwork) were being completed and to ascertain necessary supports. Similarly, Principal C explained that personnel felt responsible for student success and proactively helped students reach high expectations. Principals D, E, and F used the word love when explaining why staff members were the school’s ultimate strength. While all schools we sampled were successful relative to state accreditation standards, every principal spent more time discussing the weaknesses of their school and struggles. These results suggest that by focusing on areas of needed improvement, the leaders aspired for their schools to reach a desired level of success. Two of these leaders considered parental involvement their biggest challenge, two referenced special education, and another identified poverty and support for teachers,

Table 1 Strengths of school

Principal A B C D E F

Strength Ranked third in state in overall achievement data Strong faculty Faculty Teachers Staff Staff

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Table 2 Struggles of school

Principal A B C D E F

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Struggle Parental involvement Special education test scores Special education population Parental support Poverty Support for teachers

respectively. While these were the greatest struggles reported, they were not the only ones. Table 2 summarizes the instructional leaders’ responses. Principal A addressed differences in parental involvement between the schools she leads. While both have a free and reduced lunch rate that qualifies for Title I funding, one has more economically disadvantaged students than the other and, unfortunately, less family buy-in: “My schools are different socioeconomically. At one, many parents want to be involved, but at the other with the higher percentage of students receiving free and reduced lunch it’s like pulling teeth to get parents involved, which is the main struggle and disconnect.” Principal D’s problems around engaging families were viewed somewhat differently: “Our biggest struggle is with parental support. I don’t think it’s necessarily they don’t want to do it, but they often just don’t know how.” This leader also shared the personal experience of having moved from the business world into education only to realize how little she knew about how schools actually operate. To principals B and C, special education presented the greatest difficulty. While both expressed frustration with trying to help students who were behind by several grade levels, Principal C reported having a sizable special education population as an added challenge: “My school has larger special education numbers than we should, which has a lot to do with environmental things students are exposed to, and parents’ educational levels may play into that.” While speaking about the special education population, the impact of the family home and parents’ background was mentioned as possible complications. Principal E identified poverty as the greatest struggle for the school, attributing the high rate of free and reduced lunch to delays or minimized opportunities for many students. Limited resources were Principal F’s greatest challenge: “There’s always something to improve on, but most important is making teachers’ jobs better—giving teachers the support they need makes everything else come together.” Community–school relations and twenty-first-century educational practices were identified as areas of school weakness.

Not Having Their Basic Needs Met Was the Greatest Challenge for Poor, Rural Students Interviewees next addressed the question, “How does rural poverty affect your student population? Can you give an example of a student in your school who lives in rural poverty?”

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Table 3 Effects of rural poverty Number of Principals 6 3 3 2 2 1

Effect Lack of fulfillment of basic needs Being raised by someone other than the biological parent Lack of school supplies or limited access Absenteeism Lack of completed homework Vocabulary development Increase in opioid use by caregivers

All principals reported that students living in poverty are affected in some way by these circumstances, whether it be lack of food, sleep, clothing, or shelter. They all thought that lack of fulfillment of basic needs had an adverse effect. In addressing “Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, a motivational theory,” McLeod (2018) emphasized, “If [physiological] needs are not satisfied the human body cannot function optimally,” meaning that “all the other needs [e.g., selfactualization”] become secondary until these needs are met.” Additionally, based on Epstein’s (2011) model of partnerships that prioritize health and safety for all students, the leaders all asserted that students’ academic performance depends on these basic needs being met. Each interviewee talked about how impoverished students are affected by their circumstances. Table 3 shows the effects of poverty culled from the interviews and the number of participating principals who mentioned each one. Principal A told a story about a kindergartener showing up sick to school one day. Staff learned that she had not had dinner the previous night and that she was only fed at school. Similarly, Principal C spoke about a child who was given a weekend food bag by the school: “The boy stopped by the office to hug and thank me, having overheard his parents say that they didn’t have enough money to buy food.” Principal B shared a similar story of a student that week who had told his teacher that he did not have anything to eat at home. The school sent him home that day with extra bags from the Backpack Buddy program. Elaborating on such situations in her building, this leader said, “Most of my team was not raised like that, so it’s frustrating and hard to relate to. When students’ basic needs are not met, how in the world can they focus on what they need to do at school?” Three principals reported an increase in students being raised by someone other than a biological parent. Principal F suggested that children are likely being removed from their homes: “Some of our kids do not have running water or clean clothes. Many are being raised by grandparents, relatives, or foster parents. Our school nurse and secretary are amazing and act like these kids’ moms, taking care of them.” Principal B speculated that the rise of school-aged children in foster care could be attributed to the mounting use of opioids in her rural community. She reported an unprecedented number of children placed in foster care or being raised by someone other than a parent. Her school has responded to the needs with a program intervention in which staff “adopt” these students, helping them manage educational

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demands. Principal E’s similar account concerned two students living in a cabin without electricity where their parents were abusing drugs. The children were placed in foster care. Another item of significant response was the lack of school supplies. Principal D gave an account of a student who never brought his homework back, explaining to his teacher that he did not have a pencil at home. After making a visit to the home, she said, “The house had no door, a goat standing in the doorway, and chickens on the front porch. Plastic was covering the windows, and it was dark inside, so I assumed there was no electricity.” She concluded, “So, when the child said he did not have a pencil at home, I then believed him.” She reported that this news allowed the teacher to see the circumstances facing the child from a different perspective. Rather than punitively quizzing him, “Why didn’t you do your homework?” the question became, “What can I do to help you get this done?” The principal shared that it wasn’t about sending a pencil home at that point because it was clear the child was in survival mode, and homework was the least of his concerns. Principal C also discussed home visits as an administrative responsibility: “I sometimes have to make home visits for attendance, and I see what some children live in—it’s just heartbreaking.” Problems with absenteeism and vocabulary development were also mentioned in the interviews, but not to the extent of unmet basic human needs, circumstances governing foster care, and limited opportunities for completing academic tasks. The principals indicated they had many stories about the conditions endured by their students.

Having a Welcoming Atmosphere That Fosters Engagement for All Families Was an Administrative Priority Another interview prompt was, “What are the goals of family engagement at your school?” Having a welcoming environment for all families, parents, and guardians was the most important goal of family engagement for all interviewees. Fenton et al. (2017) identified “trust” as “a key factor in building the types of relationships that will foster true parent engagement” (p. 223). Generating a hospitable environment rooted in trust was a prerequisite for improving family engagement within the seven schools represented by this interview sample. Administration and staff in these schools were busy building this kind of world by, for example, providing volunteer opportunities for parents, designating homeroom sponsors, improving parent–teacher organizations (PTOs), openly communicating with parents, offering fun activities for families, and educating parents on how to best help their children. Table 4 is a synopsis of the six principals’ goals of site-based family engagement. The ownership taken by these leaders for making their school environment friendly for families, and conducive to engagement, was conveyed in various ways. Principal A shared the effort being made by staff to reverse the negative history around parents feeling unwelcome in the school. Besides generating

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Table 4 Goals of family engagement Principal A B C D E F

Goal Provide volunteer opportunities for parents, initiate homeroom sponsors, welcome parents into the school Provide volunteer opportunities for parents, improve the PTO Improve the PTO, openly communicate with parents, offer fun activities for families Increase parental involvement, create a welcoming atmosphere, teach parents how to best help their children Create a comfortable atmosphere to attract parents and share information Make more connections with families, improve the PTO, invite parents into the school more frequently

awareness among the teachers, roles were designed specifically for parents (e.g., homeroom sponsors) to be experienced in the building. Principal D wanted to support families by helping them understand that their needs matter and are cared about in the school. Principals D, E, and F discussed the need to make positive connections first and foremost with families and provide opportunities for family members to visit their schools and engage in productive exchanges. A motivation was to build rapport so that should problems arise, parents would feel comfortable being at the school for those encounters. Three leaders discussed the desire to improve the school’s PTO. Principal B described the PTO as attracting “ultra-involved” parents. Principal C’s school PTO involved monthly meetings planned around a class production: “Because it’s a different group of parents at each event, I try to educate them about chronic absenteeism and what that means.” Principal F hoped to better connect with the families by bringing them into the school for events and activities. In contrast, Principal C’s view was that parents felt welcome in the school: “I try to keep communication positive and open between myself and parents so they’re not afraid to speak with me should they need or want to. Our school is known for being caring and understanding.” Interviewees were also asked, “Has the level of parental involvement changed over time? If yes, in what ways?” These principals’ responses varied considerably: parental involvement increased following a change in administration and decreased when parents lacked trust in the school or when new caregivers took over. Involvement also depended on specific groups of students and parents as well as grade levels. Two principals reported no change in parental involvement over the years, citing the pride held by the community for the school as a stabilizing influence, with most adults having attended their children’s elementary school when they were young students. Principal A described the previous administration as not being interested in boosting parental involvement at the school. With this having since become an educational goal, the current school administration’s efforts had led to increased participation. Principal C thought that the degree of family engagement in a school depended on contextual factors like grade level and the students and parents who moved through each year: “Some of that variability could be that it takes both

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parents working full-time to pay the bills, and even then they are barely surviving, so they can’t afford to miss a day of work.” It was concluded that the extent of parent engagement had not changed for better or worse over time and instead reflected continuous cycles of change. Two principals reported a lowering of parental involvement over the years, citing different reasons. Principal B stated, “When I started in administration 13 years ago, parents accepted your professional opinion. Now you have to convince parents to be on your side from the beginning, even though we are on their side and, most importantly, the student’s side.” The perspective shared was that while school personnel wanted to do what was best for every student, it could be hard for some parents to learn that their child was not meeting all performance expectations embedded in Virginia’s recent state standards: “Some of our kids need a lot of assistance to get where the state wants them to be, which means having difficult conversations with parents.” While staff made efforts “to be positive, nobody wants to hear their child needs help.” Principal D attributed the school’s drop in parental involvement to a change in caregivers: “I’ve seen a decline in parents raising their own children. While some foster parents are more involved than biological parents, grandparents are tired and just don’t know what is needed.” The school’s importance within the community was attributed by two principals to an escalation in family engagement. Principal E replied, “We’re still in a capsule [self-contained] but do get more parental involvement than most places. The school is the center of this community, and everyone takes pride in it. If somebody says they’re going to take something away from the school, we end up with a huge contingency at a board meeting supporting the school.” Likewise, Principal F asserted that community pride sparks parental engagement. A former student at the school he was leading, he grew up within the community in which he felt respected by parents. He clarified that outsiders employed at the site have to work harder to prove themselves to the parents (Table 5). Further, principals reflected on this interview question: “Do you think the level of family engagement at your school is different from other public schools outside your geographic region and, if so, why and in what ways?” Without having spent much time outside the geographic area, they could not respond with confidence. However, some drew on the limited exposure beyond rural Appalachia and conversations with colleagues from elsewhere. Three principals thought that their site-based family engagement was probably not as energetic as Table 5 Changes in parent involvement Principal A B C D E F

Change Increase due to change in administration Decrease due to parents lacking trust in the school Varies due to the group of students and parents Decrease due to change in caregivers No change due to pride of community in the school No change in involvement due to closeness within the community

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other regions owing to higher poverty, and less funding and fewer resources. Similarly, one principal expressed that the small school, lacking athletic teams, contributed to lower family buy-in and diminished engagement. Another thought that there was likely no difference in family engagement, whereas a different principal seemed to think that family engagement was likely higher in light of community pride. Principals A, C, D, and F thought that family engagement within their schools was likely lower than schools in other regions for similar reasons. Principal A shared that the school, a feeder, does not have any athletic teams, which limits the number of parents and families attending extracurricular activities. Principal pointed out that suburban schools’ comparably higher budget mobilizes opportunities for family engagement. This leader, however, expressed that urban schools have about the same level of parental engagement as rural schools: “It was eye opening when I talked to professionals at meetings who work in inner-city schools only to realize the many similarities with rural schools.” Principal D had not worked outside the geographic area but noted economic disparities within the school district: “Down the road, there’s higher family engagement—that school’s socioeconomic status is much higher.” Principal F noted that due to the size of his school district, there were smaller budgets and fewer resources across educational areas, including family engagement. For Principal B, there was probably not much difference in levels of family engagement beyond the region, thinking it likely varied from school to school depending on the programs in place and the staff supporting them. Unlike the other principals, Principal E speculated that the school’s level of family engagement was possibly higher compared to other regions: “I’m certain the family engagement in our school is higher than most and that it’s a different kind of involvement too.” An example given was the family tradition of parents conversing at benches at the school’s entrances while waiting to pick up children finished for the day (Table 6). Also asked of each interviewee was the question, “What sorts of family engagement strategies would you like to see implemented in your school in coming years?” Principals C and D had set goals of continuing to expand the strategies already in place within the school. They referenced having a good foundation and wanting to build upon that. Principal E stated that the school’s goals were dependent on being awarded an afterschool program grant that would enable more opportunities for family engagement strategies and activities. Also awaiting funding news, this leader Table 6 Differences between Appalachia and other geographic regions Principal A B C D E F

Difference No school athletic teams No difference Less funding to provide more opportunities Less participation due to high poverty More participation than other regions due to community pride Fewer resources for students and parents

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Table 7 Family engagement goals for the future Principal A B C D E F

Goal Couponing class for parents More support for grandparents and foster parents Continued development of ongoing strategies Continued development of ongoing strategies Dependent on acceptance of afterschool program grant Fostering relationships with families and community members

said that the school would try to orchestrate as much change as possible, regardless of the outcome. Principal F did not mention funding in this context and was focused on building relationships with families, especially new staff. Principal B saw young parents as challenging to involve in the school and thus wanted to expand the available support for guardian grandparents and foster parents: “We’re serving more and more kids in foster care even though they’re technically not marked as a foster care child. This omission is misleading in the state data and is a problem when kinship situations arise.” A grave challenge inherited by the school was that “these children come with a lot of needs.” Principal A might start a couponing class for parents interested in saving on goods after a parent encouraged more assistance for financially strapped families. Of interest to this leader was for families to recognize through such efforts that the school cares about more than achievement (Table 7).

After-School Family Engagement Activities Are Supportive of Parents’ Schedules The principals also considered the conversational prompt, “How has your school tried to tailor family engagement opportunities to the needs of working parents, single-parent households, other family members helping to raise students, or foster parents?” Most principals reported efforts made within their school to accommodate parents, particularly by holding events in the evening and carefully scheduling all activities. Other responses highlighted extending options for parents to participate, offering separate activities for children, and changing the terminology for how the school refers to student caregivers. The majority said that they hold events after work hours to attract parental involvement. One of them even allowed parents who work during the evening to volunteer on their own time. Thus, most events discussed took place after the school day. Four principals reported having identified times that better accommodate family schedules so that parents could attend school-sponsored events. Principal A held most family engagement events after 5:00 p.m., including the open house. In addition to scheduling all meetings after 6:00 p.m., Principal C also invited parents to sign up for events so as to prepare for the expected number of attendees. Principal E, too, did not schedule

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Table 8 Strategies to tailor family engagement Principal A B C D E F

Strategy Accommodating times Offering a variety of options for participation Accommodating times Changing terminology (e.g., from parent to family) Accommodating times Accommodating times, activities for children

events and activities until evening, except for Title I meetings that occur during the workday to accommodate staff. Principal F expressed willingness to be flexible with times based on parental feedback, such as allowing children at all meetings: “We understand the need for parents to bring their kids, even for parent–teacher conferences. We don’t want a kid left alone. Whatever we say to a parent, we should be able to say to a student.” Similarly, Principal B described the need to offer varied opportunities for all parents, despite their work hours or schedule: “Our parents can be involved without coming to the school, like the box-top committee work that can be handled at home. Teachers send things home that parents can work on and feel that they’re contributing.” This leader also talked with parents who picked up their child at the school, saying that while such interaction was not formally planned parental involvement, it was still valuable contact. Only Principal D mentioned the need to change terminology to reflect shifting family dynamics in the community. Rather than using the word parent, the school referred to all events as family engagement. Parent–teacher conference became family conference. Often words like parent or family were omitted to welcome all community stakeholders (Table 8).

Traditional Activities Attracted the Highest Family Participation in the Schools Other interview questions asked were: “What family engagement strategies have your school implemented that you think had a positive effect on school achievement and/or school–family partnerships? Why? What percentage of families was involved in these activities? How do you determine if a family engagement strategy was effective for your school?” In response, interviewees reported that a school’s traditional events (e.g., back-toschool night, fall festivals, Thanksgiving lunch) were more highly attended (than new or recent initiatives), even though these typically did not include academic components. Mcdowall et al. (2017) concluded, “Programs implemented with the goal of strengthening partnerships between home and school, or the school and community, can lead to positive changes both in teachers’ attitudes and perceptions

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about involving parents, and in their engagement efforts” (p. 362). Interestingly, the interview data we collected reinforce this message that despite lacking an academic focus, parent engagement activities tend to benefit a school’s engagement efforts, which can have a positive effect on student achievement. Three principals (B, C. and E) saw traditional school events as furthering school– family partnerships and indicated that events with an entrenched school history attracted high attendance. Principal E stated, “One of the biggest events is our Thanksgiving lunch, with 700 family members—it’s such a tradition here and a beautiful thing.” Principal B reported that the traditional fall festival attracted volunteers to help host and that “the school has a crazy turnout for the Christmas program, usually standing room only.” All students participated in this community event, which took place for over 25 years at the school. The biggest community event for Principal C’s school was the “spring fling that occurs every March and gets packed.” He added that these traditional events, which attract people to the school, build camaraderie with and among families. Also, all three leaders thought that canceling such events would only upset community stakeholders due to the historical precedent and expectation for celebration. While these events do not contribute to overall success or achievement in a direct or measurable way, they stabilize partnerships among the school, families, and community. Other noteworthy practices involved helping parents understand how to best support their children. Principal A described an initiative that would put a Chromebook in every student’s hand in the school. Starting in fourth grade, students could take these laptops home to use, and all parents were invited to enroll in a class on how to use this technology in order to properly assist their children. This leader explained, “Students do not have the same filters for their Chromebooks at home as at school, so we want to educate their parents on how to follow safety guidelines.” Principal B talked about a popular science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM) night in which families did activities together that could be replicated at home. Principal D’s school held a homework help night for parents where teachers covered strategies for supporting their child’s learning at home, including websites that make the content contained in homework more accessible. During this parent training, students did their own activities in another part of the building. Principal E described an Internet safety class for parents in which the school resource officer provided targeted education. His school also held a reading night for parents interested in learning what their children need be doing at home to improve their literacy skills. All principals thought that examining data was the best approach they used for determining if family engagement strategies were working well. Principal B discussed the difficulty of monitoring such success: “We use sign-in sheets to track participant numbers and increase that each time by keeping things fresh and building up things to the kids.” Principal F also pointed out the need to track data: “We look at the attendee’s feedback: Were the parents involved or bored? You have to get their feedback and reflect on it.” Sign-in sheets must be maintained for the purposes of Title I reporting, noted four of the instructional leaders (Table 9).

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Table 9 Family engagement strategies with a positive effect Principal A B C D E F

Strategy Twenty-first century grant, state testing support, technology class for parents Traditional fall festival, Christmas program, STEM night Traditional spring fling Homework help night for parents, family engagement evenings Traditional Thanksgiving lunch, Internet safety class, Feeding America food truck event Title I parent reading night

Framed by the fifth interview question, the prompts were: “What family engagement strategies has your school implemented that you think did not go as planned? Why do you think this strategy was unsuccessful? What percentage of families was involved in these activities?” Diverse responses were elicited from the principals. Principal A described a new initiative involving homeroom sponsors and the lack of participation during the implementation. However, she was hopeful that with word of mouth and continued efforts, the homeroom sponsor role would attract parents to the school. She also mentioned the need to discontinue the annual fall festival: “Lots of parents used to volunteer, ask for donations, and different things, but not now. Parents don’t understand that it’s hard for us to do it all with a small staff.” A back-to-school movie event came to mind for Principal B that had not gone as planned, having overlapped with a local church activity at which attendees received free school supplies. To resolve this problem, the school administration partnered with the church to host a back-to-school event on the school campus. Principal D’s narration similarly emphasized the timing of events. The school had always scheduled the annual fall festival around home football games because the games were heavily attended, but when this ritual was altered, the festival faltered. She concluded, “For a family engagement event to succeed, you have to get the timing right.” In contrast, Principal E had a difficult time identifying an unsuccessful event, reasoning that if even one person grows from the experience, it is worthwhile. However, he did mention that the Title I back-to-school meeting had not succeeded at drawing parents because it was held in the daytime. Principal C also struggled with pinpointing failed events but for a different reason–his school had not tried to implement anything new, despite the plan to do so each year, instead defaulting to events with a proven record of success. Principal F identified a stargazing event that did not go as planned. Apparently, it had taken so long for the sky to darken that families got impatient, having listened to the host for an hour before being allowed to look through the telescope. He reflected, “While the premise of the activity was amazing and the children did learn, the timing and the wait made it difficult to keep everyone engaged.” An added comment was that family events really should have food on hand (Table 10).

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Table 10 Unsuccessful family engagement strategies

Principal A B C D E F

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Strategy General volunteering in the school Back-to-school movie night No response Fall festival Title I back-to-school meeting Stargazing event

Inadequate Funding Prevented Program Development and Implementation for Engaging Families Four principals expressed the desire for more funding to support new family engagement programs. Inadequate funding prevented new site-based initiatives from being implemented and old ones being reinstated to attract family involvement in the schools. Research suggests that the more parents understand how to help their children, the more they can support them in their academic endeavors at home. Increased funding also enables staff to engage families outside contractual hours when parents/guardians are available (Annie E. Casey Foundation 2017). Another interview question elicited reflection on specific policies and positions dedicated to family engagement on school campuses: “Does your school have a parent liaison, family center, family contract, school handbook for parents, or a website with a portal for parental information?” One principal had a parent liaison assigned to the school, whereas another had a full-time family engagement coordinator who oversaw activities, assisted with the Title I program, and managed the school’s parent resource center. Because principals A and C’s schools did not have anyone in the role of parent liaison, administrators or teachers assumed this load. While principal F’s school lacked a parent liaison, a district-level social worker worked with families as needed. Two of the schools had a new family center. Principal F explained, “The center will have information we can share with parents, and a counseling area and medical resources parents can use at home with their children.” Principal D did not elaborate on any details regarding the center. Principal A, lacking a family center, said that churches provided space to assist families. Four principals had a family contract of some kind. Principals A, B, and D sent home attendance contracts for parents or guardians to sign, agreeing to follow the school’s policy. Principal C shared that a family contract was part of the handbook given to parents. However, principals E and F explained that the only contracts signed were with outside agencies. In principal E’s school, parents only had to sign a contract if social services was involved where in regards to principal F’s facility, parents only signed a contract if their child received day treatment counseling services from an outside agency. All principals reported having a school handbook and informative website for families. Five of them also mentioned using social media to communicate with families and the community. Internet broadband service was weak in at least three

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Table 11 Policies and positions within the school Principal A B C D E F

Parent liaison No No No Yes No No

Family center No No No Yes No Yes

Family contract Yes Yes Yes Yes No No

School handbook Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes

Website Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes

Table 12 Family engagement wish list Principal A B C D E F

Wish Reinstate the traditional fall festival Improve chronic absenteeism Create family clinic and laundry center Achieve 100% parent involvement Develop afterschool program that draws family participation Establish family reading program

of their localities, restricting many parents from accessing the school’s website or social media pages. One principal noted that recent state legislation was expected to expand broadband service in the area (Table 11). Principal interviewees were also asked, “What family engagement strategies do you wish you could implement in your school? Why are they not currently being implemented?” As seen in Table 12, responses to question 12 varied. Principal A wanted to reinstate the traditional fall festival: “I would love to bring back the fall festival because it was such a huge event for the community, but we just don’t have the resources for it anymore.” Principal C wished she could start a family clinic and laundry center: “We have many students with health problems and parents who want to talk to the school nurse, but they must go to the doctor. I think it would really benefit our families to have a medical clinic accessible to our school community.” Principal D simply wanted 100% parental involvement: “I wish I could make every parent want to help, so I just do the best I can to help as many parents as I can. I wish I could save them all.” Three principals spoke about wanting to start new school programs that provide better support for parents. Their interest resonates with the Annie E. Casey Foundation’s (2017) finding that higher parent educational levels have a positive influence on children’s academic achievement, which supports the notion that education leaders can implement site-based programs to encourage and support parental education. Specifically, Principal B’s interest was in having a family program that targets chronic absenteeism: “We threaten parents with court and take them to court, so they’re automatically dissatisfied with us. It would be great to turn that around.” Principal E was waiting for the outcome of a grant application. If awarded, funds

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would be used to attract families to the afterschool program for their children and educational field trips. Principal F had devised a family engagement reading program that could not only provide books to students but also teach parents how they could guide their child’s reading and skills development at home: “Just putting books in kids’ hands would be my biggest thing and being able to convince them and their parents that a book can change the world. It really can because education is the one thing that’s free.” For anyone “starting out in poverty,” he added, “they can become successful in life because of books.” He then considered high poverty’s relationship to lower literacy, clarified long ago by Hetzel and Soto-Hinman (2007), “Low-income children come into school in kindergarten with 3,000 words in their listening vocabulary, as opposed to a listening bank of 20,000 for the middle-income child” (p. 23). With the rise in income disparity in America comes a pressing need to better support low socioeconomic student populations and their support systems–teachers, families, schools, and community services.

Sign-In Sheets Were Used at the Schools to Monitor Family Engagement Attendance was the main indicator of success all six leaders used to monitor family engagement and activity. The most recent Title I policy (as of the writing of this chapter) requires that principals monitor parental involvement in the school beyond merely keeping track of attendance at school-supported events (U.S. Department of Education [USDOE] 2018). In response, we further addressed schools’ commitment to engaging families with the prompt, “What measures do you use to monitor family engagement at your school?” Five principals reported using sign-in sheets for all family engagement activities to track participants’ names, as required by Title I schools. Principal C preferred simply doing head counts (not mentioning the use of a sign-in sheet). Like principal D, principal C would hold informal conversations with parents to gauge their interest in the activity and using the anecdotal data to possibly make changes for future events. Principal E was the only leader who addressed actually using surveys to gather parents’ feedback, although Principal C referenced the benefit of instruments: “It’s hard to ask parents to do surveys, but we probably should. We simply ask questions to which they put ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on an index card and turn it in.” The practice in principal D’s school was for staff to meet after each event to debrief and make improvements (Table 13).

Transportation Was a Major Barrier to Family Engagement in the Rural School Areas Residents in rural areas commonly endure restricted access to public transportation. The Appalachian Regional Commission (2019), an economic development agency of the federal government, conducts research on rural public transportation issues.

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Principal A B C D E F

Measure Sign-in sheets Sign-in sheets Head count, parent conversations Sign-in sheets, parent conversations Sign-in sheets, surveys Sign-in sheets

This commission is hopeful that this project will determine if “public transportation services are adequately creating or enhancing access for disadvantaged populations, particularly in rural areas” (para. 1). Its investigation supports the principals’ reports we gathered indicating that transportation remains a pressing issue, in this case for impoverished Appalachian residents. To this point, regarding areas of challenge, an interview question probed, “What challenges do you currently face in the attempt to involve families at your school using family engagement strategies?” Five principals reported transportation as the biggest challenge in getting parents involved in the school. Principal A stated, “We have parents who can’t get here because of transportation. Many of our families were affected by the mines that went bankrupt, so we have students who were affected by that.” With his “two schools being 20 miles or 20 minutes apart,” he continued, “you wouldn’t think there would much of a difference, but there is.” In addition to transportation, Principal F reported that the closed-off community caused an issue for newcomers: “Lots of parents from this community are very community involved but also a little skeptical of somebody new coming in. It’s as though they’re thinking, ‘Why are you doing this? We want our own community teaching our kids.’” It was surmised, then, that a cultural kind of challenge for the school was “just getting parents on board and with knowing that what I’m doing is best for their children.” Principal F, who is from this local area, was not forced to prove himself to stakeholders. Principal B was the only leader who pinpointed young parents’ behavior as a significant challenge for the school in encouraging family involvement: “They’ve not grown up themselves to the point of getting their kids where they need to be, and they’re not succeeding at step one in a school day, which is ‘get up, get ready.’” To her, this problem overshadowed possibilities for parental engagement in the school environment: “I don’t know how you get these young parents involved when they can’t even do the simple things of getting their kids out of bed and on the bus.” She felt stumped when it came to teaching young parents how to care for their children (Table 14).

Parents Who Were Educators in the Schools Contributed to the Title I Schoolwide Plan The Title I policy (USDOE 2018) directs all Title I schools to evaluate the “parental involvement policy in improving the academic quality of the schools served” and

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Table 14 Family engagement challenges

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Challenge Transportation Young parents lacking necessary skills Transportation Transportation Transportation Transportation, closed-off community

Table 15 Parent involvement in the schoolwide Title I Plan Principal A B C D E F

Involvement Parents on committee but not involved in plan Parents who were educators Explained the plan to the parents and allowed parental input Parent chosen for committee who was an educator All parents invited but minimal participation All parents welcome, but only two served on the schoolwide plan committee

bring parents into this process; an expectation is to identify “barriers to greater participation by parents in activities,” including those “who are economically disadvantaged,” and to “use the findings” to “design strategies for more effective parental involvement” (p. A.2.E). Analyses of our interview data indicate that most of the elementary principals, while in compliance with Title I policy, only involved parents who were educators employed by the district to assess the school’s parental involvement plan. Reflection on Title I relative to parental engagement was elicited with the question, “To what extent were families involved in the Title I parent involvement plan for your school?” All principals reported having minimal family participation in the creation of the Title I parent involvement plan for their school. Title I school funding is expected to supplement instructional needs, thereby minimizing inequities for economically disadvantaged students (USDOE 2018). The schools all had parent representatives on committees, in compliance with Title I policy; however, in at least four of the schools, parents performing committee service were actually educators in the building. Principal C tried to educate parents about Title I funds and their use: “When talking with parents, I always make a point of saying, ‘This is your federal tax money, and without it some of our teachers would not be here working with your children.’” Principal D also thought that parents did not know how Title I funding worked: “Parents don’t understand what Title I means and how you can only use the funds for certain things, and some of them have Googled Title I for information about the program.” Principal E also shared that most parents did not even know their children were being serviced with Title I funds – they had missed the informational meetings and did not complete the surveys (Table 15).

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Synthesis, Implications, and Recommendations The principals interviewed offered insight into the influence of poverty on family engagement in rural Appalachia. We are hopeful that the findings we described can lead to better understanding of breakthroughs and, in particular, barriers faced by principals wanting to support economically disadvantaged students through family engagement. As indicated by this study, a major struggle for students living in rural poverty continues to be having their basic needs met. According to the site-based leaders, staff members in these buildings went above and beyond to provide for student needs while contending with rising demands for academic performance and success. In order to help these students, the principals collaborated with community agencies to generate resources that schools alone cannot manage. Their willingness to help meet basic needs is a positive leadership dynamic for cultivating a welcoming school culture for all constituents. As families benefit, trust may develop, serving to strengthen the school–family partnerships that are fundamental to these rural landscapes. A research finding was that traditional activities (e.g., fall festival) were highly attended, yet these events could be more intentionally capitalized upon to forge communal links. All participating principals reported trying out new family engagement strategies within their schools, including 1. Teacher adoption of specific students living in poverty 2. Sponsor appointees in homeroom classes who shared information with students’ families 3. STEM night with parents and students working together 4. A family center with computers used by parents to access resources for supporting their child’s education Such strategies could be incorporated during traditional school events to reach more constituents. Having greater stakeholder attendance during these events could limit the need for additional events and save resources.

Synthesis of Interview-Based Findings Principals mostly attributed the success of their schools to staff. They cited the biggest struggle for poor students was having their basic needs met. Because principals wanted to create a welcoming atmosphere for all parents and families, they made scheduling accommodations for family engagement activities. Traditional activities were highly attended in Title I elementary schools, but lack of funding frequently prevented principals from implementing new programs and reinstating old programs. Sign-in sheets were used to monitor family engagement strategies.

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Transportation was a major struggle for high-poverty family engagement in these rural communities. Most schools used parents who were educators on staff to contribute to Title I schoolwide plans, without considering the importance of involving guardians more broadly.

Practitioner Implications Principals of economically disadvantaged, rural schools could benefit from reflecting on the strategies they use to promote family engagement. Their appraisal should be purposeful and incorporate feedback from all school stakeholders, including students, staff, families, and community members. It is recommended that principals in ruralities build strong relationships with community partners who can mobilize the school’s mission, goals, and efforts. Elementary school principals of Title I schools could review this study’s findings to assist them with identifying, assessing, and improving family engagement strategies. They should 1. Train staff members on effectively establishing trust with families and creating a welcoming atmosphere 2. Include parents who are not educators in the creation of the Title I schoolwide plan 3. Survey participants following family engagement activities to better evaluate the initiatives 4. Identify and implement family engagement strategies, and assess their effectiveness Moreover, higher education institutions could help build capacity for highpoverty rural schools by educating aspiring teachers and administrators on the need to authentically involve parents in their school plans for family engagement. It would behoove preparation programs for teachers and principals to address the challenges school personnel face engaging families in their child’s education, including school events. Just as barriers in parental engagement should be explored, so too should breakthroughs and promising directions in capacity-building for disadvantaged schools within rural areas.

Policy Implications School systems in rural Appalachia and ruralities more widely can utilize the findings to create policies and improve existing parental involvement strategies. To more equitably assess parental involvement in schooling contexts, such policies might address the inclusion of parents who are not staff members in Title I

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schoolwide planning. A rule of thumb could be to expect at least 50% parental participation by families in providing feedback on such plans. Comprehensive funding by state departments of education could support Title I schools in managing the workload necessary for involving parents in planning and other decision making. Importantly, school leaders and activists should advocate for funding in favor of developing capacity for dealing with rural poverty. As Gurley (2016) aptly reported, “Rural populations will only continue to shrink in coming decades,” and “rural spaces will become more and more geographically and culturally isolated” (p. 603). “To reverse these trends,” change agents (e.g., “activists, academics, and politicians”) likely need to intensify their labors and “at every level of government to call attention to rural poverty—efforts that may seem unattractive or futile” (Gurley, p. 603). Child advocates like parents, families, and spokespersons in education and across all societal realms need to be pushing for change, despite any and all setbacks.

Recommendations for Further Research To further examine data on strengthening school–family partnerships in order to improve the overall success of students living in impoverished rural areas, it may be advantageous to conduct new studies involving parents and other community stakeholders. Research on family perceptions of a school’s plan for parental involvement could help principals better understand the population they are serving. School leaders who have families’ input can ensure that their ideas are being considered and needs met, and that principals and their staff are not making assumptions about poverty and its negative effects. For example, just such a study could be adapted using both Distinguished Title I elementary schools and Non-Distinguished Title I elementary schools. The present study could also be expanded by interviewing more principals within rural Appalachia to broaden and deepen the data set. The addition of more participants or stakeholder groups (e.g., parents and teachers) could lead to other important insights or even opposing ones. Faculty in preparation programs could better prepare (aspiring) teachers and principals for carrying out such research and working with families, and higher education faculty and students could conduct such investigations (just like the first author whose former professor is her collaborator). Mullen and Kealy (2012) provide a model wherein they studied “dissertations on acute poverty” in school communities that offer considerations for practitioners and ideas for researchers (p. 70). Future research could also be completed on the specific findings of this study. Each finding could be studied in depth to gain a broad understanding of the impact on school–family relationships. Practicing principals could be invited to implement new strategies of parental engagement; track existing patterns of family participation and suggest improvements, or even design, utilize, or validate assessments targeting family involvement.

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Conclusion Summary and Looking Ahead This study contributes to research on school–family partnerships from the practicing principal’s experiential viewpoint. The particular attention given to Title I elementary schools in rural Appalachia likely has value beyond this geographic region for other ruralities, with insights gained from site-based leaders who described strategies of family engagement used and their effectiveness. The responsibility of school leaders in an era of intensified accountability requires practitioners to purposefully reflect on all aspects of the job, including family engagement for the sake of successful, healthy student development and stronger families. Looking ahead, many questions come to mind, the answers to which will shape the future for rural families and communities with limited access to opportunity. To what extent is child advocacy a dynamic of change in high-poverty, low-opportunity, rural school–communities? Who has a stake in calling attention to present-day barriers to parental involvement and seeking solutions for educational investment in “the new majority of students in U.S. public schools [who] are from low-income families” (Darling-Hammond 2019) so that the nation will escape its decline? What innovative work is being done by philanthropies–like The Annie E. Casey Foundation (2017) in the United States–to help provide for a brighter future for children at risk of poor educational, economic, social, and health problems? Going forward, what policies, practices, and strategies are most likely to yield positive results for large numbers of students and families living in poverty? Also, what district-, state-, and jurisdiction-level reform efforts can foster economic opportunity for parents and schools to become financially stable and support young people’s healthy development, academic success, occupational opportunity, and lifelong contribution? How can school districts attract the most culturally competent, diverse talent to rural schools and equip these leaders and teachers with achieving better results so that students, families, and communities thrive?

Note The study was approved in 2019 by Virginia Tech’s Institutional Review Board. For interest in the authors’ Family Engagement Interview Protocol, contact Dr. Boyles .

References Annie E. Casey Foundation. (2017). 2017 KIDS COUNT ® data book. Baltimore: Annie E. Casey Foundation. Retrieved from https://www.aecf.org/resources/2017-kids-count-data-book Appalachian Regional Commission. (2019). Public transportation in Appalachia – Inventory and assessment. Retrieved from https://www.porh.psu.edu/funding/public-transportation-in-appala chia-inventory-and-assessment

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Auerbach, S. (2009). Walking the walk: Portraits in leadership for family engagement in urban schools. School Community Journal, 19(1), 9–31. Bearden, K. (2018). Talk to me: Find the right words to inspire, encourage, and get things done: 6 principles of effective communication. San Diego: Dave Burgess Consulting. Bradley, F. C. (2010). The impact of parental involvement on the reading achievement of fourth grade African American males in the Tidewater Region of Virginia. Doctoral dissertation. Retrieved from http://scholar.lib.vt.edu.ezproxy.lib.vt.edu/theses/available/etd-04152010165804 Budge, K. M., & Parrett, W. (2018). Disrupting poverty: Five powerful classroom practices. Alexandria: ASCD. Çoruk, A. (2018). School principals’ opinions about public relations practices on schools. International Journal of Progressive Education, 14(2), 136–147. Crowe, E. C., Connor, C. M., & Petscher, Y. (2009). Examining the core: Relations among reading curricula, poverty, and first through third grade reading achievement. Journal of School Psychology, 47(3), 187–214. Darling-Hammond, L. (2019, August 5). America’s school funding struggle: How we’re robbing our future by under-investing in our children. Forbes. Retrieved from https://www.forbes.com/sites/ lindadarlinghammond/2019/08/05/americas-school-funding-struggle-how-were-robbing-our-futur e-by-under-investing-in-our-children/#693c482f5eaf Day, E., & Dotterer, A. M. (2018). Parental involvement and adolescent academic outcomes: Exploring differences in beneficial strategies across racial/ethnic groups. Journal of Youth and Adolescence, 47(6), 1332–1349. Epstein, J. L. (2011). School, family, and community partnerships: Preparing educators and improving schools (2nd ed.). Philadelphia: Westview Press. Fenton, P., Ocasio-Stoutenburg, L., & Harry, B. (2017). The power of parent engagement: Sociocultural considerations in the quest for equity. Theory Into Practice, 56(3), 214–225. Fisher, D., Frey, N., & Hattie, J. A. C. (2016). Visible learning for literacy. Thousand Oaks: Corwin Press. Gurley, L. (2016). Who’s afraid of rural poverty? The story behind America’s invisible poor. American Journal of Economics and Sociology, 75(3), 589–604. Hetzel, J., & Soto-Hinman, I. (2007). The three literacy gaps and Title III of NCLB. Forum on Public Policy: A Journal of the Oxford Round Table. Retrieved from https://www.questia.com/ library/journal/1G1-244026573/the-three-literacy-gaps-and-title-iii-of-nclb Johnson, E. J., Avineri, N., & Johnson, D. C. (2017). Exposing gaps in/between discourses of linguistic deficits. International Multilingual Research Journal, 11(1), 5–2. Kronholz, J. (2016). Teacher home visits: School–family partnerships foster student success. Education Next, 16(3), 17–21. Mcdowall, P. S., Taumoepeau, M., & Schaughency, E. (2017). Parent involvement in beginning primary school: Correlates and changes in involvement across the first two years of school in a New Zealand sample. Journal of School Psychology, 62, 11–31. McLeod, S. (2018). Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Simply Psychology. Retrieved from https://www. simplypsychology.org/maslow.html Mullen, C. A. (2014). Advocacy for child wellness in high-poverty environments. Kappa Delta Pi Record, 50(4), 157–163. Mullen, C. A., & Kealy, W. A. (2012). Poverty in school communities. Kappa Delta Pi Record, 49(2), 70–77. Mullen, C. A., & Patrick, R. L. (2000). The persistent dream: A principal’s promising reform of an at-risk elementary urban school. Journal of Education for Students Placed at Risk, 5(3), 229–250. Ross, T. (2016). The differential effects of parental involvement on high school completion and postsecondary attendance. Education Policy Analysis Archives, 24(30), 1–38.

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Smith, J., Wohlstetter, P., Kuzin, C. A., & Pedro, K. D. (2011). Parent involvement in urban charter schools: New strategies for increasing participation. School Community Journal, 21(1), 71. Touchton, D., & Acker-Hocevar, M. (2001). Using a lens of social justice to reframe principals’ interviews from high poverty, low performing schools (ERIC document reproduction service no. ED465219). Retrieved from https://eric.ed.gov/?id¼ED465219 U.S. Department of Education (USDOE). (2018). Title I (part A). Retrieved from https://www2.ed. gov/programs/titleiparta/index.html?exp¼0

Professional Development for Teaching Students in Poverty and Impacting Teacher Beliefs

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Barbara M. Wickham and Carol A. Mullen

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Overview and Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Literature Linkages Among Poverty, PD, Teacher Beliefs, and Instruction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mixed-Methods and Action Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Study Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Participants and Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PD Training Sessions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Findings Regarding Teacher PD, Beliefs, and Poverty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Teachers’ Negative Biases Against People in Poverty Changed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Teacher Views of People in Poverty Became More Positive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Teachers Implemented Specific Strategies to Teach Students from Poverty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Teachers Lacked Appropriate PD Training for Working with Students from Poverty . . . . . Content, Components, and Structure of Teacher PD Training Matter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Synthesis of Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implications and Recommendations for Practice and Policy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Practice Recommendations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Policy Recommendations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary and Reflections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Teacher Interview Protocol on Professional Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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B. M. Wickham Montgomery County Public Schools, Christiansburg, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] C. A. Mullen (*) School of Education, College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, Educational Leadership and Policy Studies Program, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 C. A. Mullen (ed.), Handbook of Social Justice Interventions in Education, Springer International Handbooks of Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-35858-7_94

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Abstract

After nearly two decades of efforts to adhere to legal expectations for K–12 public education in the United States, poverty still impacts student achievement. The purpose of this study was to discern the effects of practitioner-designed professional development (PD) on teacher beliefs/attitudes about students living in poverty. A mixed-methods approach, supported by an action research design, was used. Participants were 47 elementary teachers from 11 elementary public schools in southwest Virginia, USA. They completed a survey before and after the PD regarding their beliefs, knowledge, and experiences about working with students in poverty. Ten teachers at five Title I elementary schools were interviewed one-on-one following the PD workshop. The research focused on the creation and implementation of the PD and whether teacher beliefs changed after the intervention. Findings indicated that the PD and learning did, in actuality, impact teachers’ beliefs, leading to changes in their instructional practices. This study could provide guidance to administrators, leaders, mentor teachers, academics, and others interested in facilitating effective PD for teaching students from low socioeconomic status (SES) backgrounds. Keywords

Beliefs · Poverty · Instructional strategies · Interview · Professional development · Survey

Introduction Overview and Questions Poverty is one of the most significant factors influencing student achievement (▶ Chap. 11, “Principals’ Responsibility for Helping Impoverished Students Succeed in Rural Appalachia” by Boyles and Mullen; Jensen 2009; Wickham 2020). The No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) of 2001 required educators to close the “achievement gap” for students in poverty. Annual testing in reading and math was mandated, with data reported at the subgroup level for students of color and those with special needs, limited English proficiency, and low low socioeconomic status (SES) (Ladd 2017). The Every Student Succeeds Act, passed in 2015 to replace NCLB, maintained provisions for annual testing and subgroup data reporting (McGuinn 2016). Federal accountability legislation resulted in educators spending a great deal of time identifying how groups of students differ in the attempt to reduce discrepancies in standardized test performance. Yet, after almost 20 years of implementing NCLB measures to close the “achievement gap” among “groups defined by SES, race/ ethnicity, and gender,” the disparity in educational outcomes persists on “standardized test scores, grade point average, dropout rates, and college enrollment, completion rate, etc.” (Lumen Learning n.d.; also, Ladd 2017). America’s

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standardization of student learning and achievement “ignited a reevaluation of existing models of teacher professional development (PD),” which shifted the paradigm of the “stand-alone workshop to teacher learning that is embedded in daily practice” (Mullen and Hutinger 2008, p. 277). Driving this US-based study was the research question, “To what extent does practitioner-designed PD impact teacher beliefs regarding students from poverty?” Secondary questions addressed targeted PD within a temporal timeframe: (1) What do teachers believe about students who live in poverty prior to participating in targeted PD? (2) How do teacher beliefs change after participating in targeted PD? (3) How do teachers adjust their use of instructional strategies after participating in targeted PD?

Literature Linkages Among Poverty, PD, Teacher Beliefs, and Instruction Regarding the language we use and our definitions of key concepts, achievement gap is restricted to the policy and academic discourses from which it arises. Otherwise, we demonstrate a social justice mindset by using opportunity gap (which signals a deep gap in wealth and tremendous inequities in access to education) to direct attention to how people’s contexts affect their outcomes or opportunities. Contextual and cultural differences and systemic inequities influence individuals’ circumstances as well as plague classrooms and schools. Poor learning conditions, exacerbated by inequitable distribution of funding, quality teachers, and so forth, not only deprive students of a meaningful education but also their right to an equal education. So that teachers will be able to “teach diverse learners equitably” and make available opportunities for all students to engage in “deep learning” – in light of twenty-first century capabilities like a novel and critical thinking needed within the knowledge era, they need to have opportunities to develop themselves (Darling-Hammond and Oakes 2019, p. 4). Darling-Hammond (as cited in Warren 2018) has long argued for the preparation of a teaching workforce that is equipped to teach for social justice. This wholesale change necessitates a different worldview reflected in a shifting discourse (e.g., from achievement gap to opportunity gap) to convey a racially and socioeconomically sensitive perspective: “The opportunity to learn – the necessary resources, the curriculum opportunities, the quality teachers – that affluent students have is what determines what people can do in life” (p. 18). Advocacy for child wellness in highpoverty environments involves granting opportunities (ranging from providing resources for improving school performance to giving low-income families access to safe neighborhoods with better living conditions) to low-income children and youth that build capacity for learning and academic success (Mullen 2014). In contrast, achievement gap “does not account for the lack of opportunities and exposure many children of color and low-income students live with outside the classroom”; it also fails to “explain the [plight of] millions of children who go to school in poverty stricken neighborhoods” (Patrick 2015).

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It stands to reason, then, that focusing on overcoming limitations of poverty may be more useful in influencing children’s lives than identifying differences among student groups (Burney and Beilke 2008). Despite the continued disparity in achievement, high-poverty, high-performing schools do exist (Suber 2012). Going above and beyond to support students from poverty in academic achievement is extremely important with the widening economic and educational gaps between high- and low-income families in the United States (Budge and Parrett 2018; Ladd and Fiske 2011; Mullen and Kealy 2013). Despite educators’ efforts to implement NCLB requirements, the opportunity gap in American schools has not been reduced (Ladd and Fiske 2011; Mullen and Kealy 2013). Obstacles to improving the academic achievement of students in poverty include teacher beliefs/attitudes, instructional strategies, and effective PD. Teacher beliefs and perceptions about students in poverty impact what children of low SES backgrounds can achieve, limiting opportunities in school and life (Archambault et al. 2012; Bomer et al. 2008; Budge and Parrett 2018; Dell’Angelo 2016; Gorski 2008). Essential instructional strategies, identified for teaching students in poverty, have merit for all students (Budge and Parrett 2018; Jensen 2009; Schlechty 2011). Classroom strategies include providing structure, treating students with respect, having a positive attitude, teaching with enthusiasm, showing interest in students’ lives, and using stories/storytelling in lessons (Meador 2020). Also, seven ways to teach, relate to, and validate low-income students are to: establish a caring and believing environment; get to know each student’s name; determine what each student is interested in; survey students to learn about family and daily practices; identify students’ learning styles; allow students to “tell” their story; and build lessons based on information learned about the students. (Johnson 2013, p. 14)

However, problems with teacher preparedness persist, as does a knowledgeimplementation gap (Guskey 2000, 2009), indicating the need for targeted PD. Helping impoverished students succeed demands an accurate picture of poverty and how it impacts their ability to thrive socially, emotionally, and academically (Jensen 2009). In the United States, “child poverty has grown to the point where a majority of children in public schools now come from low-income families” (Darling-Hammond and Oakes 2019, p. 3). Some teachers from a middle-class background may not be aware of just how widespread and severe poverty is for children. Or, they may struggle to understand why students from poverty think and behave the way they do (Payne 2005). It is essential to have knowledge about the culture of these children and youth, including family and community life, which can be burdened by “homelessness, food insecurity, lack of medical care, [and] frequent violence” (Darling-Hammond and Oakes 2019, p. 3). To this end, teachers could benefit from information and training about poverty-stricken living conditions (Jensen 2009; Johnson 2013). In fact, this course of action is strongly advised for teacher education programs, so that preservice teachers can be prepared for the realities of poverty and the multiple ways in which they will be called on to support

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learning for low-income students and their cultivation of “positive mind-sets and beliefs about self and school” (Darling-Hammond and Oakes 2019, p. 5). Teachers must also teach lower-class students hidden rules of the middle class to facilitate their success, insisted Payne (2005). Among middle-class rules, acceptance and love are conditional and largely based on achievement; values/driving forces are achievement, work, and self-sufficiency; the future is “most important,” necessitating good choices in the present; and using a formal register of standard language is expected at school and work (Payne 2005). However, educators must also be exposed to hidden rules of the lower class (and the wealthy class) to develop a perspective on cultural and SES differences. Leaders, scholars, and other stakeholders have been urged to research and facilitate effective PD to impact teacher beliefs about students from poverty, implement instructional strategies with the best chance of success, and ensure that policies are in place to support this transformative work. To Rubie-Davies et al. (2012), much more research is needed on “teacher beliefs” and “teacher factors, [which] are important to consider since beliefs mold thoughts and resultant instructional behaviors that, in turn, can contribute to student outcomes” (p. 270). The present study is a direct response to their recommendation. Leadership is vital to this work. When strong leaders develop a culture in which continual learning is considered essential, PD is most effective (Moore et al. 2011). Because leaders can create policy and be the impetus for change (Schlechty 2002), they need to be involved in supporting professional learning experiences for educators. Through teachers who participate in effective PD that positively impacts student achievement (Cohen and Hill 2001) leadership teams can promote wholeschool reform. The trite phrase “good instruction is good instruction” may be true for teaching all students. Bransford et al. (2007) argued that teachers who succeed with students in poverty use methods that reflect what research says about how people learn. They further contended that teacher knowledge of child development and cultural backgrounds is imperative for classroom modeling of student-centered pedagogies. Poverty is a common factor impacting student achievement within and across all student subgroups for whom characteristics like socioeconomic status are similar (Reardon 2013). With the intensification of accountability measures over the past two decades, teachers have been searching for strategies to improve student performance. Educators must understand the hidden rules of the lower-income class and teach students from poverty the rules that will aid their success at school and in future work, according to Payne (2005) whose perspective guides her staff development program (see Payne 2018). Other researchers, however, concluded that Payne’s (2005) hypothesizing perpetuates teachers’ deficit thinking about students from poverty, creating or reinforcing stereotypes of (perceived) weaknesses (Bomer et al. 2008; Budge and Parrett 2018; Gorski 2008). More current research even surmises that Payne’s work may have caused more harm than good, as evidenced by the numbers of educators who continue to typecast children from low-income backgrounds (Gorski 2018). While ideological differences exist about poverty among Payne, Gorski, and Budge

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Table 1 Perspectives on poverty and instructional strategies for increasing impoverished students’ achievement Researcher and publication Perspective on poverty

Instructional strategies

Payne (2005) Generational poverty can create its own culture with hidden rules

Build relationships Develop literacy skills Hold high expectations for learning Use data to guide instruction and intervention Teach students hidden rules of the middle class Teach mental models for abstract information

Gorski (2008, 2018) Cultures of poverty do not exist; poverty results from structural barriers (e.g., the inequitable distribution of opportunities and resources, and access to them) Build relationships Develop literacy skills Hold high expectations for learning Use data to guide instruction and intervention Embrace structural ideology, the belief that educational outcome gaps are the result of structural barriers like the unfair distribution of opportunity and access Make real-world connections for students experiencing poverty because they lack vital experiences

Budge and Parrett (2018) Poverty is caused by limited opportunities and resources

Build relationships Develop literacy skills Hold high expectations for learning Use data to guide instruction Focus on disrupting poverty by embracing structural ideology Teachers must reflect on their own beliefs and values to determine what shapes their perception

and Parrett, similarities exist in how they identified and approached instructional strategies, as we reveal in Table 1. It compares the three authorial perspectives. Teaching students in poverty can manifest as lowered teacher expectations and distorted perceptions (Bomer et al. 2008; Budge and Parrett 2018; Gorski 2008; Jensen 2009). Bradley and Corwyn (2002) proposed that “teacher attitudes and expectations may be part of a complex set of mediators linking low SES to school failure and behavior problems”; in fact, “teachers provide poor children with less positive attention and less reinforcement for good performance” (p. 382). Archambault et al. (2012) argued that teachers’ self-reported beliefs directly influence the quality of students’ academic experiences, explaining that teachers who convey to students that they can succeed can positively impact their achievement. Teacher beliefs about students can become a child’s reality in the classroom and life. Dell’Angelo’s (2016) multiple regression study showed that teachers’ thoughts about barriers to learning are a strong predictor of student achievement. Gorski (2018) agreed, affirming that what teachers believe about people living in poverty informs how they teach and interact with individual students. Common judgment about why people are impoverished is saturated with a host of negative assumptions,

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such as they make bad choices in life, have moral failings (e.g., recklessness, laziness, and apathy toward school), are uneducated and lack a work history, do not have goals or are aimless, and so forth (Budge and Parrett 2018; Gorski 2018). Society’s stigmatizing and shaming dynamics can be witnessed among educated citizens and in public schools. Teachers who hold deficit views of students in poverty are expected to struggle with helping them academically. An explanation is that these teachers will work to “fix” the student rather than confront the structural barriers and inequitable systems that historically disadvantage economically marginalized families (Gorski 2018; also, Patrick 2015; Warren 2018). For example, low-income parents in rural areas who work multiple jobs or lack transportation will find it challenging to attend family events at school, thereby missing out on networking and learning what can be done to support their children (▶ Chap. 11, “Principals’ Responsibility for Helping Impoverished Students Succeed in Rural Appalachia” by Boyles and Mullen). Educators with a deficit lens or wealthy social class worldview may judge such scenarios as evidencing parental apathy and, specifically, indifference to one’s own child’s education, well-being, and future. Educator-focused training is considered indispensable for “remedying” teacher beliefs about cultural and ethnic deficiencies if public school cultures are to become truly inclusive (Gorski 2018; Mullen and Kealy 2013). It needs to become widely understood that opportunity gaps for impoverished students exist due to inequities in the distribution of access and opportunity, not deficiencies in mindsets, cultures, or individuals (Gorski 2018; Patrick 2015; Warren 2018). Critical issues of opportunity related to access, equity, power, privilege, and impact should not be overlooked. Theories of child wellness and development are essential for deepening teachers’ understanding and propelling their advocacy inside and outside the classroom, as illustrated by this quote: Child wellness needs to be understood holistically so that children and youth from high-poverty environments can succeed in schooling and life. The developing role of teacher as advocate of students’ well-being is of pressing importance as a national and international agenda. Teachers who foster advocacy thinking and identities for themselves are well equipped to teach students to take ownership of their own wellbeing. Such actions can enrich the classroom curriculum and mitigate the negative effects of student learning in disadvantaged environments and segregated educational systems. Children and youth can benefit from teachers’ capacity to facilitate the lifelong capacity of learning to advocate for one’s self and others. (Mullen 2014, p. 157)

Studies of instructional strategies that increase the achievement of students in poverty have revealed discord among researchers as to whether specific strategies can impact their success or whether good teaching that works for all students will also work for children and youth from distressed circumstances. It is thought that best classroom practice for students, in general, may also apply to economically marginalized populations (Antonetti and Garver 2015; Bransford et al. 2007; Budge and Parrett 2018).

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Regardless, researchers repeatedly identify relationship-building as an essential strategy for understanding students’ backgrounds and creating learning environments conducive to success (Budge and Parrett 2018; Jensen 2009; Payne 2008; Schlechty 2002). Holding high expectations for students is also frequently cited as a strategy for helping students in poverty become more successful (Budge and Parrett 2018; Gorski 2008; Jensen 2009). Well-designed, appropriate training can ensure that teachers have the tools needed to support students in poverty (Gorski 2018). However, Garet et al.’s (2001) regression analysis indicated that little research is available to demonstrate the impact of teacher PD on student achievement. Gorski (2018), drawing upon multiple research sources, suggested that with appropriate and effective training, teachers can closely examine their own beliefs and biases to better understand the low SES students they teach. Many researchers have tried to determine the impact of PD, with less success than may be expected (e.g., Guskey 2000). Additional research is warranted to thoroughly investigate teachers’ impact on the academic achievement of students in poverty following PD that targets beliefs and specific high-yield instructional strategies. Evaluation typically follows the implementation of specific commercial programs, but not those designed by practitioners and district leaders. As the current opportunity gap indicates, the PD most teachers experience today is not providing the knowledge and skills that yield transformative classrooms and sustained systemic change. While the impact of PD on student achievement is inconclusive, researchers continue to work to identify characteristics of high-quality PD that increase teachers’ potential for influencing student achievement. Within the context of NCLB, it has been said, “Never before in the history of education has greater importance been attached to the [PD] of educators” (Guskey 2000, p. 3). Grant et al. (2008), who suggested that continuing teacher PD supports student achievement, asserted that the single most influential school factor affecting student achievement is the teacher. For teachers to see an increase in student achievement, they must be constantly learning, yet many PD interventions fall short of addressing how student results can be improved. In contrast, PD designed by practitioners around relevant topics, implemented in the workplace and with support for teachers, yields the most benefit for both educators and students (Croft et al. 2010; Grant et al. 2008; Guskey 2000).

Mixed-Methods and Action Research Wickham (2020), the lead author and a director of elementary education, investigated teacher beliefs about impoverished students in relation to a PD intervention. (This chapter, which is from that larger, unpublished work, selectively represents and updates it.) The research purpose was to ascertain the impacts of newly implemented PD on teachers’ values and assumptions, as well as instruction of low-income students. Besides contributing to the literature, another goal was to generate

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evidence-based findings to help education leaders make informed decisions about the professional learning experiences they can implement to assist teachers.

Study Design An action research design was combined with mixed methods. Action research design allows specific phenomena to be targeted for interpretive analysis and improvements made while spurring change in policy and practice (Mullen et al. 2015). Survey and interview information was collected, with quantitative analyses of the survey data and qualitative analyses of the interview data. Action research lends itself to qualitative designs and opportunities for educators to reflect on particular experiences, examine their beliefs and biases, and expand their repertoire (Mullen et al. 2015; Stringer 2008; Weisman and Garza 2002). The generation of quantitative and qualitative data allowed for in-depth analysis and data triangulation. The exhaustive methodological design comprised four components: a pre- and post-survey instrument, PD training intervention, and interview. Pre- and postsurvey instrument design permitted flexibility for engaging in and measuring interventions. The validated survey instrument, which belongs to Budge and Parrett (2018), is viewable in Table 2. Their inventory has a section pertaining to beliefs and another to instructional strategies, both of which were administered in the larger study (i.e., Wickham 2020). However, we are reporting only on the beliefs portion here due to space restrictions. Budge and Parrett’s 2018 instrument was selected for the study (and PD teacher training) because of its focus on poverty and the disruption of it and because it was a self-inventory inviting reflection and change. The self-inventory was extended with questions eliciting teachers’ demographic information and previous training addressing students from poverty. The prompts were organized around the teachers’ beliefs regarding people from poverty, their knowledge of working with impoverished students, and their beliefs about their ability to impact instruction. The pre- and post-surveys, PD training, and interview data were collected on four interrelated levels: (1) the origins of teacher beliefs about people from poverty, (2) teacher beliefs about students’ ability to learn, (3) the impact of the PD on teacher beliefs about low-income students, and (4) the impact of trainings on instructional strategies implemented in the classroom. The interviews, held after the PD training sessions and post-survey, served as a conduit for eliciting information about how to improve the PD training in the future. All interviewees completed PD feedback sheets to this effect.

Participants and Setting Voluntary survey respondents (N ¼ 47; 45 females; all but one White; aged 20s–40s) were full-time teachers from 11 elementary schools who taught grades K–5 and core content in reading, math, science, and/or social studies, with special education

Questions Each individual’s experience with poverty is unique Pre Post Like any socioeconomic group, people who live in poverty are diverse in their beliefs, values, and behaviors Pre Post People who live in poverty do not share a common culture Pre Post Poverty adversely affects people’s lives in probable and identifiable ways Pre Post It is possible for educators to know and understand the adverse effects poverty has on their students Pre Post People in poverty work, on average, more hours than those in the middle class Pre Post 0.60 0.30 1.17 1.52

1.55 1.79 0.07 0.35 1.26 1.34

1.07 1.22

0.62 0.91

47 47 46 46 47 47

46 46

47 47

0.89 0.95

1.17 1.02

1.06 1.06

0.61 0.08

1.68 1.91

47 47

s2

M

n

Table 2 Paired sample t-test beliefs. (Self-inventory source: Budge and Parrett 2018)

0.88

0.94

0.962

0.92

0.79

r 0.76

46

45

46

45

46

df 46

4.42

2.84

2.07

5.63

3.37

t 2.69