Dr. Hope BarnesWhen I, Hope Barnes, started teaching at the age of 22 in Baltimore, Maryland, I was excited and eager to shape and mold the minds of the future. Without much context for this new city and community, it was a culture shock. Being African American in a predominantly African American community was not the issue. This community in South Baltimore wasn’t the safest place to work or live. Our students faced poverty, gun violence, drug wars, and an atmosphere of despair and hopelessness. This was something I had never experienced, as my childhood was pleasant and consisted of a two-family household in a low- to middle-class community. I preface this because even though my students and I share an identity of being Black, our intersecting identities had implications on our lived experiences and how people perceived us.
I had not experienced, as a child or an adult, the inequities that this community faced. I had parents who were involved in my education. They, for the most part, participated in school events and made sure that I prioritized my education. As a result, I found myself as a new, inexperienced, Black teacher perpetuating deficitthinking about students and their families. It wasn’t until a mentor teacher who had direct ties and lived experiences with the community sat me down and explained to me how I was doing more harm than good to my students. She explained that as Black folks, we are not a monolith, and all come with different experiences of navigating our blackness. That resonated with me so much that I made it a conscious effort to invest in unlearning things. I had to unpack my own biases, misconceptions, and stereotypes about my students who looked like me.
Fast forward 11 years. I am now a mother of a Black son.
Dr. Donna Y. FordDuring an era of police brutality and the dehumanization of Black bodies, particularly young Black men, being captured on phones, I worried about my Black son. I worried about how he would be perceived and treated in school settings. I wondered how I would be treated as a parent of a Black boy with dyslexia. He faced barriers in school as not being challenged because of his learning disability, but also, my experiences as a Black parent were interesting as well. By this time, I was 13 years into teaching, and too often my schedule would conflict with my son’s school events. In particular, Back to School Night, Parent-Teacher conferences, and special days like Mother’s Day Breakfast were difficult to attend because I had similar events at my school. One incident in particular that stands out for me is when I missed a Back to School Night. I had a conversation with the teacher about an assignment for my son. She responded, “You missed Back to School Night, you would have gotten that information then”. So many emotions were erupting all at once. The first feeling was being judged. Secondly, I had a flashback to a time, I said something similar to a parent in Baltimore. My immediate response to the teacher was to let her know that I didn’t attend because I was a teacher and was attending the event at my school. Additionally, I was appalled that the teacher never sent an email or correspondence on the best methods to get in contact with us. Had she done that, she would have known that I was an educator too. The biggest takeaway for me in this encounter was that I, as a younger educator, had perpetuated deficit thinking about families and their involvement. To be on the receiving end as a parent was a reminder of the importance of how families should be valued and viewed as partners in their children’s academic journey.
Family partnerships are the missing element to education reform. Too often, the notion of families engaging in events and academic conferences is an indication that parents are “involved” in their child’s education. We would argue that the aforementioned are obligatory events that the school must host. It doesn’t allow teachers and families to fully engage in meaningful conversations and build trusting relationships. Teachers who are charged with educating Black students must understand that culturally, there’s a uniqueness. They must understand the plight of the Black experience in this country, including the education system. Failure to engage leads to holding families to the fire when they don’t show up for events. It leads to educators questioning whether families are invested in their child’s education. It opens the flood gates to deficit thinking and dominant narratives about Black families. This type of thinking defines groups of people by their cultural identities and attributes.
Horsford & Holmes-Sutton (2012) define family engagement and family involvement as interchangeable terms. The authors use this to describe collaboration between families and the school communities. Family engagement traditionally has been (a) attending parent/teacher conferences, (b) participating in parent association meetings, (c) Back to School Night, and (d) volunteering in the classroom and school. This is not an exhaustive list, but it has been normalized as how families are mis-evaluated on their involvement.
The problem with that ideology is that, in urban school districts and Black communities, cultural family engagement looks different because of circumstances.