edgap

Ahmed's clock proves reality of the school to prison pipeline

One kid, one clock, and one set of handcuffs set the nation ablaze this week. Ahmed Mohamed was detained by officers from the Irving Police Department for bringing a homemade clock to school that his teacher mistook for a bomb.

In an effort to defuse the clock–and the situation–the police were called and Ahmed was arrested for bringing a “hoax bomb” to school.

Officials later learned that Ahmed’s faux bomb was just a homemade clock and he had no intention of harming anyone. It was all, as stated by the police, just a misunderstanding.

If only misunderstandings were that simple.

Since the melee, Ahmed has been invited to the White House, MIT, and Facebook for his creativity. Each organization or group has shown support for Ahmed due to his unfair arrest.

But the unfairness tagged to his arrest has more to do with Ahmed’s culture and skin color than safety.

Ahmed Mohamed was born in America, is Muslim, and his parents aren’t native. The stereotypes associated with Ahmed’s existence led to his arrest, not a clock misidentified as a bomb.

According to study by the University of Pennsylvania, students of color, specifically black students, are suspended at a much higher rate than white students. While Ahmed isn’t black, he is considered to be a student of color.

The study also notes that in 84 districts within the 13 states studied, “blacks were 100 percent of students suspended from school.”

This perpetuates an unfortunate theory that students of color are pushed towards prison instead of higher education.

Ahmed is a curious kid who enjoyed putting things together and fixing broken electronics. He was arrested for bringing a homemade clock to school, which on so many levels, means that a part of his creativity was doused due to racism, stereotypes, and ignorance.

We need to push more kids like Ahmed to advance boundaries, not punish their ability to blow by them.

Too bad Ahmed’s lesson about how rules are applied to certain students, culture, and races were learned through his ability to be creative.

What teachers need to know about multicultural education

**The Edvocate is pleased to publish guest posts as way to fuel important conversations surrounding P-20 education in America. The opinions contained within guest posts are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official opinion of The Edvocate or Dr. Matthew Lynch.**

A guest column by Rae Votta

For a brief time, at the inadvisable age of 20, I had a brief stint teaching English and Social Studies in West Philadelphia. I’d never taken a formal education class, nor had I any real aspirations of teaching middle schoolers, but I was part of a bandage-style solution aimed at fixing failing school systems by patching them with inexperienced but optimistic young teachers.

I’m white, and not a single one of my students were white. This is none too surprising, considering the demographics of West Philadelphia, as well as the propensity for college-educated young white adults wishing to “give back” by working in low-income neighborhoods. Despite the fact that there’s a call for nonwhite teachers to work with students of color, which often produces better educational results, 80% of teachers are white—and that doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. One of the things I learned clearly and quickly during this experience was that there is a gap in the educational standards of what was expected in predominantly white, middle-class, suburban schools versus what urban and low-income schools had available to their students. In addition, the cultures surrounding those students have a massive effect on how the education system works for or against them. Reflecting multiculturalism in the classroom is imperative in our increasingly multicultural society.

For me, teaching was as much of an education on culture as it was a fundamental education for the 13-year-olds I taught. While we worked our way through the common core, we also worked our way through navigating a school system that told them learning Social Studies didn’t require dedicated books. My parents would have stormed the school if I came home telling them I wasn’t given a book for a subject, but not a single one of my students’ parents complained, nor did the students seem concerned. Instead, we worked around it, and my students were adaptable to items I brought in; they became an active part of determining what they were interested in and what we’d learn about under the massive umbrella of “World History.” Instead of falling into the trap of a Eurocentric approach, we decided to mix it up and include Africa, since we didn’t have a book dictating our every move.

For my students, or at least some of them, our brief time together was eye-opening for them about a different world outside of the few blocks they inhabited in Philadelphia. At 13, I had been obsessed with college, and so I thought some of my students might be as well. I brought in magazines about picking the right college and about getting ready for applications in high school. No one had really emphasized this to them before. A group of students who had acknowledged the existence of the colleges in their town thought that maybe they’d be lucky enough to attend one since, as one told me, there was a McDonalds near one. That was when I realized that, in their world, a fast-food joint that’s taken for granted elsewhere was considered almost a luxury, or a neighborhood perk, to these students. By the end of my time teaching, the students had started to learn about out-of-state colleges and realized they could aim for them if they wanted. I sat one high-achieving student down with her mother and explained that she was the smartest girl in her grade, but that kids like her in suburbia were already doing SAT prep and practicing essay writing. I gave her books so she could compete outside of the confines of her community.

There is a call for the opposite of my situation as well—to increase the diversity of teachers for predominantly white schools. After my experiences on both sides of the situation, I cannot agree more. For all my well-meaning suburban teachers, I can’t remember a single one who wasn’t white, and I think that was a disservice to my understanding of the world outside of my bubble—until I was in the “real world” as an adult. Outside of history classes about emancipation and civil rights, no one talked about how racism applies to other areas of education, and no one took stock of the diversity of our source material. No teacher or educational leader had ever led me to believe there were other types of community and culture outside of the one we existed within.

One moment that stands out from my time as a teacher was when I was trying to mitigate the daily fighting that broke out in my classroom. It was a far cry from my middle school education, where fights were few and far between. At first, I tried to bandage the situation and just tell them to stop, assuming that my authority was all that was needed. It wasn’t until one day that I stopped lessons, sat everyone down, and said, “Tell me why this happens” that I understood the cultural issue at play that I’d simply never experienced. My students expressed that they had to stand up for themselves, that their families had instilled a value of not backing down, and with honor on the line the threat of a suspension didn’t matter because dishonor was worse. Knowing this, however, did not stop my students from fighting, and neither did my explanations of how there were different ways to handle conflict. On the other hand, understanding the cultural aspects of the situation gave me new ways to handle such conflicts.

Multicultural diversity in education is not just about what is taught to the students, but who is teaching these students and the interplay between the cultures of the educator and of the students. The more diversity we can infuse into the mix, the better the outcomes for both students and teachers.

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Rae Votta is a senior account planner from Prime Access, one of the largest health and wellness marketing agency and is the only full-service advertising and marketing communications company at the intersection of health care and multicultural markets.

Can Big Bird really close the achievement gap?

**The Edvocate is pleased to publish guest posts as way to fuel important conversations surrounding P-20 education in America. The opinions contained within guest posts are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official opinion of The Edvocate or Dr. Matthew Lynch.**

A guest post by Sam Chaltain

Don’t get me wrong: I love Big Bird as much as the next guy. But when people start talking about how Sesame Street is just as effective at closing the achievement gap as preschool, I start to worry that we’re becoming enamored with a seductively simple characterization of a deeply complex problem.

To wit: this article, in which we are told the “new findings offer comforting news for parents who put their children in front of public TV every day.” Or this radio story, in which the reporter claims that the show’s heavy dosage of reading and math can yield long-term academic benefits that “close the achievement gap.”

The lure of a set of findings like this is pretty clear: plug your kids into an educational TV show, help them learn their letters and numbers, and voila! No more class inequality. And actually, when one considers how we measure the achievement gap — via the reading and math test scores of schoolchildren — the opportunity to draw a linear line of cause and effect is available to us.

The problem, of course, is that school is about a lot more than literacy and numeracy — and the problems that beset poor children run a lot deeper than the 30 million word gap.

Consider the research around ACE Scores — or the number of adverse childhood experiences young people have — and how much those scores shape a child’s readiness to learn and develop (you can take a short quiz to get your own score here).

Dr. Pamela Cantor has spent a lot of time thinking about ACE Scores. She founded Turnaround for Children to help schools become more attuned to the cognitive, social and emotional needs of kids, and she’s one of many out there who are urging us to understand what the latest research in child development is telling us about what we need to be doing in schools. As she puts it, “The profound impact of extreme stress on a child’s developing brain can have huge implications for the way children learn, the design of classrooms, the preparation of teachers and school leaders, and what is measured as part of the school improvement effort as a whole.”

Consequently, whereas reduced exposure to the building blocks of reading and math is a problem (and one that Sesame Street can clearly help address), the biggest problem for at-risk children — the root cause — has to do with their social and emotional health.

The good news is that although these deficits are profound, they are also predictable, since they stem directly from the effects that stress and trauma have on young people’s brains and bodies. “These stresses impact the development of the brain centers involved in learning,” Cantor explains. “It is because these challenges are knowable and predictable that it is possible to design an intervention to address them. Collectively, they represent a pattern of risk—risk to student development, risk to classroom instruction, and risk to school-wide culture—each of which is capable of derailing academic achievement.”

That means the best way to help poor and at-risk children become prepared for school is by ensuring that high-poverty schools have universal practices and supports that specifically address the impact of adverse childhood experiences. So while I love and appreciate the benefits of Sesame Street, I’d feel better if instead of suggesting that every child needs more time with Grover in the morning, we suggested that every child’s ACE Score needs more weight in determining how schools allocate resources to support their students’ holistic development.

I hope that doesn’t make me seem like Oscar the Grouch.

This post originally appeared on Sam Chaltain’s personal blog, and was republished with permission.

Click here to read all our posts concerning the Achievement Gap.

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Sam Chaltain (@samchaltain) is a DC-based writer, filmmaker, and strategic communications consultant. His work focuses on the changing nature of teaching and learning in America, and on how individuals and organizations can find and tell stories that capture the emotional center of an idea; build and sustain an audience of supporters over time (as opposed to merely generating awareness); and leverage both traditional and new media in order to expand an ideological base of support.