Community

The school that Bushwick built: the story of EBC High School for Public Service

Introduction

I’m Shirley Edwards, and I was Principal of the EBC High School for Public Service, Bushwick for ten of its formative years. 

Bushwick is an “inner city” community in Brooklyn, NY, and when I became principal – in 1993, the second year of the school – it was beset with all of the problems that typify poor, immigrant communities – especially those of color – in our major cities.  I was thrilled to have been appointed to a school which already stood out as an outgrowth of a community that had been organized to fight for institutions and programs that would satisfy some of their most fundamental needs. I felt that here I would truly have the freedom to make a difference. And I was not disappointed!

 

How it Came to Be

Since EBC High School grew out of a process that deeply involved the community it serves, it is important to understand a bit about the history that led to its founding and the balance of power that enabled it to develop in relative freedom from bureaucratic constraints.  

In New York in the 1960s and 70s, many politicians believed that some areas were hopeless, and could never be made to thrive. As a result, they implemented a policy called “planned shrinkage”, in which these regions were deprived of the funding and government regulation necessary to maintain public services, including schools, housing, and even fire fighting. In Brooklyn, that policy was applied to four neighborhoods in particular: Ocean-Hill Brownsville, East New York, Bedford-Stuyvesant, and Bushwick.  (These neighborhoods form a compact unit; one can travel from any one of them to any other without leaving the foursome for more than a few blocks.)

In Ocean-Hill Brownsville in the 1960s a few clergy collaborated in an effort to lead their community to improve its atrocious schools and do something about the lack of affordable housing. One of these was Father John Powis. Powis (whose church was near the boundary between Bushwick and both East New York and Bedford Stuyvesant), had tried to help others create a new community school board, with some temporary success, but soon came up against a brick wall put up by local politicians and the UFT (the teacher’s union). The latter launched a strike to prevent the new board from functioning – a strike that closed the schools city-wide for more than a month. In the end, the forces against community control prevailed, and the efforts to improve the schools had failed.

Father Powis realized that to have any hope of organizing their community effectively, they needed help from professional organizers. They approached several groups that offered such services, and settled on the Industrial Areas Foundation, or IAF.  IAF sent Mike Gecan, one of their top organizers, to begin to instruct them on how to proceed. Out of this came a group led by local clergy, which was given the name “East Brooklyn Churches”, or EBC. (Later a Jewish synagogue joined, and the group became “East Brooklyn Congregations”.)  

EBC formed as an affiliate of IAF and used their organizing techniques. A core tenet of the IAF/EBC philosophy is never to do for others what they could do for themselves.  So EBC organizers began to conduct interviews with rank-in-file community members. They wanted to find community people who had the passion and the ability to become local community organizers. And they wanted to know what the community felt to be the most egregious conditions in the community; things that cried out to be changed.  

Two issues stood out—the lack of affordable housing and the dysfunctional schools, which were passing students through to high school, only to have them fail the Regents exams and therefore not graduate.  They decided to work on both issues. 

Out of the housing efforts came whole blocks of homes that many local residents could afford to purchase; these came to be known as the Nehemiah Houses. New Nehemiah developments followed over the decades. 

The education issue proved a harder nut to crack. EBC spent considerable time trying to reform the existing high schools in Bushwick and East New York. When these efforts proved futile, they decided that what was needed was a pair of new public high schools, in Bushwick and East New York respectively, which would be operated as collaborative efforts between EBC and the NYC Board of Education. They wanted community input on all the key decisions about the character of the new schools, including a say in selecting a principal for each. 

A three-way struggle ensued, among EBC, the Board of Education, and the UFT.  A compromise was eventually reached, in which a new pair of schools would be launched, in East New York, occupying the first floor of a building of substantial size. They would be called EBC High School / East New York, and EBC High School / Bushwick. They would indeed be a collaboration between the EBC organization and the Board of Education. They would open in September 1992. 

And they did. The East New York school was on one side of the building and our Bushwick one occupied the other. (The gym was shared, which created a scheduling nightmare, but we managed.) 

That was our first school victory. It was made possible by the political clout that developed as our community became more and more organized. The powers that be – including those in the Board of Education, the union, and in elected office, took notice of EBC’s developing influence in the community, and took us seriously in proportion to that power. 

 

Where I Came In, and How EBC Continued to Help

In the second year of EBC High School, I was appointed as Project Director. (Having been a parishioner in one of the EBC churches, and having acquired a Master’s degree in School Administration, I was a known quantity to EBC with appropriate qualifications, and not too many applied for the ‘hapless’ task of shepherding a school in such a blighted community. So, I was selected.) 

Right from the beginning, the EBC organization and the churches that belonged to it were amazingly helpful to us. Forming a staff of dedicated and qualified people can be a daunting task. But in our case, many whom we hired had come to us, having heard about the new school through their churches. We were able to get many people perfectly suited to our distinctive needs.

Those needs stemmed from where students are were coming from – both figuratively and literally. The Bushwick community had one of the worst-functioning set of schools in the city, so most of our students came to us with 3rd- to 5th- grade skills in reading, writing and math. Moreover, most of our students were Latinx kids, for whom English was a second language, picked up on the streets more than at home. They were totally at sea when confronted with the academic language in which textbooks are written and exams given. Much of that transition should have been accomplished in their elementary and middle schools, but it wasn’t. Bushwick was in an educational “Dead Zone”, with devastating effects on the youth of the community.

So, we needed an exceptional group of teachers, and thanks to the spadework done by EBC, we were able to find them quickly. After looking at their resumes, I gave them initial interviews, looking for their reasons for wanting to join our staff, and trying to assess their love of kids, along with the “fiber” in their character. They needed staying power. Most of the time, I would also ask someone already hired – or two or three of them in a group – to interview the applicant and give me their impressions. If we all agreed that the person was a good prospect and would fit in well, he or she was hired. 

One consequence of their defective prior schooling is that our students had not been socialized to being students. They had not picked up the habits that are required for extensive learning. Attendance was spotty, and when they did come, many were there to socialize with their friends more than to focus in their classes. We had to deal with this head on.

The single most important way we tackled this problem is by instituting advisory classes which met daily. They were recognized as at least as important as any academic subject. Fortunately, I had had experience with advisories from long before, in a school where they had been called “Family Groups”.  They had been crucial in addressing attitude and other emotional problems back then and proved just as important at EBC. Nearly every teacher was given an advisory class. After the first year, we decided to select students for advisory by gender. It was felt that both boys and girls would feel freer to discuss sensitive issues – especially those involving sex and relationships – among classmates of their own gender. 

Advisories covered all of our students’ needs outside of the academic classrooms. Advisories took both field trips and college prep trips.

Above all, advisories were intended to form strong bonds among students, and between students and their advisory teacher. In this they succeeded admirably. Advisory students really did have one another’s backs and were deeply attached to their advisory teacher. 

Next to the advisories, three other “institutions” in our school were critically important. 

Our dean (who doubled as one of our two most qualified Spanish teachers) was critical to our success. She interviewed prospective students, letting them know most emphatically what was expected of them as students in this school, both academically and re. conduct, and asking them if they truly could shape up to the required level.  If the student seemed unsure about that, she would tell them that perhaps ours was not the school for them. Not all students who applied were accepted. We wanted those with a decent chance for success, which had to do much more with current attitude than with past performance. She also monitored students for dress code violations and decided on consequences for discipline violations of various kinds.

I hired a social worker, as a regular member of staff. When students felt truly overwhelmed by problems at home or elsewhere in their lives, they could visit him in his office, knowing that he would treat them sympathetically, let them ventilate where necessary, and give them helpful advice when possible. This was an essential component of our efforts to deal with the whole child, and it made a very great difference. 

For students with such chaotic educational backgrounds, it was essential to have someone on staff tasked with helping to keep students focused on moving forward academically. For this, we hired an exceptional guidance counselor. She made sure to let every student know what they needed to work on, talked to them about electives, and recommended the courses they should be scheduled for in the coming term.  All of this was done with an eye to maximize each student’s chance to be accepted by junior or 4-year colleges. 

In addition to all of this, I was especially anxious to find ways to expand our students’ mental horizons. As a single mom living in a relatively poor, “inner city” community myself, I knew the ghetto mentality that exists in the streets and tends to drag children’s behavior down to a base level. This reinforces all the stereotypes about children in such communities, so that many come to believe in themselves as ‘lesser”, without the capacity to succeed. I sought to counter this by giving them positive experiences beyond they few (e.g. sports) that the students thought within their grasp. Among these things were:

  • The first Latinx “Step” (dance) team (which won city-wide awards)
  • A chess club
  • A violin class
  • Visits to “Club Getaway”, where students engaged in fun activities from climbing trees to
    tugs-of-war.

Moreover, we did not make the mistake of concentrating solely and directly on “academics”. We recognized that our students would do much better if our “three-R” classes were interspersed with cultural ones, in which students could excel from the start, and which featured activities they already understood and loved.  So, we did not skimp on art and music classes, including spending our limited resources on equipment such as a kiln, photo darkroom equipment, and musical instruments. 

The result of this multi-layer approach was a high level of academic success. Over 90% of our students not only graduated from high school (in most cases the first in their family to do so), but got into college. Many of these succeeded in graduated from college and have stable, socially useful, and lucrative careers. Not a few chose to major in Education and have become public school teachers. At least three of these are now teaching in EBC/Bushwick itself. I am very proud of them all!

There was one more important “piece” to our educational effort. The official school title is “EBC High School for Public Service / Bushwick”. We took the “Public Service” aspect very seriously. It was a centerpiece of our moral compass. We believed that we all have a responsibility to help each other whenever help is needed. We taught this by scheduling regular public service outings, for everything from helping to keep our own street clean and tidy, to serving meals in churches to those in need, to helping out in elementary schools, with reading and other activities. 

We also taught a higher level of public service, fighting for what is right and just. The latter included a six-year struggle to have the Board of Education make good on their promise to give us a building of our own, and in Bushwick, instead of the one we shared with our sister school in East New York. This effort – helped materially by an organizer from EBC (the organization) – culminated one night when we packed a Board of Education meeting and demanded action. The case was made directly to the chancellor by two of our own students, and the result was a commitment on the record. Within about a year, we had our new (and still current) building. The thing that made this a true public service campaign, and not merely a self-serving effort for upgraded quarters, is that the senior class was fully involved. These students knew they would graduate before the building (which had to be rebuilt from the ground up) was habitable. They nonetheless participated with enthusiasm (despite grumbling from a few) because they wanted those that followed them to have the benefits of a true community school of their own. 

 

Replicating Success

EBC High School was the end product of a process that unfolded in a zig-zag path over more than two decades. The one common thread was an effort – first by a few, then many more – to improve conditions in some underserved and poorly served communities.  So, it is reasonable to ask: Is there anything useful that others can learn from this rather unusual sequence of events? Can other communities with dysfunctional schools either reform them or convince the powers that be to give them new schools which will educate their children effectively? 

I can only answer this in general terms – every community is different and has its own problems and opportunities. But here are a few thoughts:

 

Start with already-organized groups

In the end we benefited from a combination of unity (a product of the organizing) and the activities of some skilled and dogged leaders. Saul Alinsky, the founder of IAF, worked with churches (and sometimes unions) because they were the already-organized groups in the community – nearly every community – and they already were committed to doing good.  It was much easier for an existing body (or a coalition of them) to organize their community for a new purpose, than to try to create a brand new group. (In fact, a new organization might even be perceived as a threat by those already in existence.) 

To me that means that whoever wants community improvement should reach out to leaders of whatever positive institutions exist in their vicinity. Churches are an obvious possibility, but sympathetic politicians may be helpful as well. Plus, if you can find some “self-starters” in the community who share your passion for functional schools, they can be of inestimable help. Talk to your own neighbors, particularly those with children. You might invite them to a house meeting 

 

Have something to offer

Come up with a plan and do the research necessary to do make it plausible. If you can’t do this on their own, try to find someone sympathetic who can. People need to picture the plan in their mind’s eye. Once you have a possible pathway to success, you can paint them a picture in words, and fill it in. You don’t have to be eloquent. Cesar Chavez used simple language – nothing flowery at all – and he was one of the best organizers in American history. It was his detailed knowledge of the problems and how to address them, and his obvious sincerity and humility that convinced people to follow him.  

 

Keep plugging away – Don’t expect quick results

The leaders most responsible for getting us a high school were able to succeed because they were in it for the long haul. If you stay focused, try out new approaches, and keep your eyes open for possibilities that might not have been there before, new opportunities are likely to turn up at the most unexpected times in ways you could not have predicted. 

To me, these are the big three. But they are platitudes until you put them (or other ideas) into practice. Never give up! I wish you every success.

As founding principal of EBC High School for Public Service, Shirley Edwards created a ground-breaking multi-faceted program designed to foster academic excellence while instilling leadership qualities. Over 90% of the first graduating class, mostly the children of immigrants from Latin America, attended college. Several are now teachers themselves, a fact that gives Ms. Edwards particular satisfaction. A classroom teacher for two decades, Ms. Edwards was also chief architect of an adult education program for working people.

We also have a podcast episode with Shirley! We talked about EBC High School for Public Service and the creation of an intentional educational community of students, teachers, parents, and East Brooklyn Congregations. She came with a background as a teacher and a parent coordinator, and responded to parents’ desperation for a high school that would lead their children to success. Click here to listen to it.

Theater, Education, and Community

Strongly influenced by Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Brazilian activist and director Augusto Boal created Theatre of the Oppressed (TO) in the 1970s. TO comprises a series of techniques combining performance and participation, inviting audiences to envision liberation and empowering them to resist oppression. If successful, TO catalyzes social change.  

Boal argues that traditional theater has been used as a tool of domination by the ruling class, with audience members as passive witnesses to the narrative presented by actors on the stage. In TO, on the other hand, actors and audience members alike are “spect-actors,” active participants and transformers of the theatrical act (Boal, 1979, p.122). Spect-actors analyze the performance and suggest interventions, then try them out on stage to determine whether they might work in real life.

Boal’s “hypotheses” include metaxis, the ability to be in two places at the same time. We can be both in the theater and wherever the on-stage action takes us. Boal’s goal was for the two realities to merge, for the solutions rehearsed in the theater to create change in the real world.

TO also features games that encourage participants to connect with one another and to facilitate “de-mechanization,” Boal’s term for unlearning the habits we’ve adopted as participants in the world of work and mainstream culture.

Act4Change

Bronx-based Act4Change utilizes TO methodology to help participants, especially children and teens, become creators and co-owners of their respective communities. Community, in the sense of a supportive environment characterized by a strong sense of safety and belonging (Gereluk, 2008), is integral to individual and collective well-being.  Students who feel connected to their classmates and to the adults in their lives are more likely to thrive both socially-emotionally and academically. The adults in a cohesive community can more effectively problem-solve and advocate for themselves. However, community can be difficult to create and maintain in low-income working-class neighborhoods whose participation in the public sphere has been curtailed, if not negated completely. Poverty and racism cause exceptional stress and trauma and create obstacles to cultivating cohesive communities, bound together by relationships, a feeling of safety, a sense of belonging, and individual and collective efficacy.

Using interactive theater arts to work with participants as equal partners in imagining their local future, Act4Change is a community engagement pedagogy designed to highlight truths and create possibilities for communal interventions. It incorporates participatory and critical pedagogy to drive the individual and community potential of young people in oppressed communities and develop strategies for social change.  

Vested in the educational development of youth, Act4Change draws on principles of creative transformation that encourage youth to explore the social conditions of their environments.  It aims to have participants gain a greater sense of self and to serve as resources to their peers and communities. Act4Change projects aspire to inform public life, inspiring and educating community members to address the social issues in their neighborhoods. Furthermore, these projects call for personal and community growth. As a practice of community engagement pedagogy, it combines community, theater, and education to center what Block (2008) calls kitchen table and street corner democracy.

 

Images: Act4Change

Act4Change Presentation

On December 14, 2018, 78 residents of the South Bronx, including children, teens, and adults, attended “What You Gonna Do About It?”  an Act4Change Forum Theater program on bullying. Youth and adults members presented and discussed their lives as fiction and intervened in its truth.  The program engaged the spect-actors in a dialogue on the social reality of bullying in their schools. In addition, participants experienced the theatrical act as conscious intervention, a rehearsal for social action rooted in a collective discussion on school bullying.  The participants continued to discuss bullying as a system of behaviors during the “design for equity” table talk dinner that followed the performance. Performers went to each table and asked the participants whether they had experienced bullying. They discussed how the community could approach the problem of bullying. Participants had to challenge their belief that individual responsibility was the sole avenue for addressing  bullying.

During the interactive performance, participants were engaged in problem-solving. During the dinner, they discussed in more detail the cultural and social nuances of bullying. As participants came to see bullying through multiple perspectives as a course of conduct and an accumulation of acts over time, they were inspired to consider ways to make their communities more aware of how to cope with it.  The Act4Change project, once completed, brought different possibilities to the forefront and gave voice to children, teens, and adults. To a certain extent, “What You Gonna Do About It?” brought to bear how bullying is constructed.

That evening children, teens, and adults tackled bullying as individuals and as part of a community.  Audience members were active participants, spect-actors, and took collective ownership of  devise ideas for liberation from bullying. They were called upon to view themselves as system change agents, not merely from the standpoint of individual responsibility but from the possibility of collective responsibility.  They built a public interest mindset using their collective creativity to frame the problem of bullying. Community interventions were created and served as a key element in thinking in a more just way on how to deal with the conditions of social life.

By utilizing TO methodology in educational settings, Act4Change facilitates constructive problem-solving and community-building. By working collaboratively to solve staged ethical dilemmas, participants of all ages begin to view themselves as change agents and to deepen their understanding of the centrality and potential of community in transforming society.   

Boal, A. (1979). Theatre of the Oppressed, trans. Charles A. and Maria-Odilia Leal McBride (New York: Theatre Communications Group, 1979).

Block, P. (2008).  Community: The structure of belonging. San Francisco, CA, US: Berrett-Koehler Publishers.

Gereluk, D. (2008). Education and community. 1st ed. New York: Bloomsbury Academic

 

Cultural worker and action researcher, Eva Lopez, founder of Act4Change, is a teacher, community-based organization administrator, and Theatre of the Oppressed facilitator. E-mail: Act4ChangeEL@gmail.co

Feelings Charts Instead of Behavior Charts: Radical Love Instead of Shame

As practitioners and teachers of Emotionally Responsive Practice (ERP) at Bank Street College, we have the privilege and adventure of stepping into a wide range of settings in which grownups work with groups of children. We travel from daycare centers to independent schools, from charter schools to NYC public schools, seeing classroom practice with children ranging in ages from infants to 13 years old. Classroom management and having children learn to take responsibility for their own behavior are common challenges. In this article, we highlight what we see as negative and harmful trends in behavior management and introduce some core concepts and language of Emotionally Responsive Practice at Bank Street , an approach to working with children developed based on deep knowledge of child development and a respect for children’s life experience (Koplow, 2002, 2007, 2009). These anecdotes contextualize our discussion.

Stories from the Field: Part I

An ERP consultant sits with a first grade teacher in an “academically-focused” charter school, who tells the consultant of a child who is constantly “flipping out” in the classroom and whose tantrums often escalate so fast and intensely that he must leave the classroom several times a day. When the consultant says, “describe to me what happens when he flips out,” the teacher replies that one thing that always triggers him is when his clothespin is moved downwards on the behavior management chart, where different-colored cards indicate to children where their behavior falls in the realm of acceptability (see figure 1). When the consultant suggests that the behavior chart may not be the best way to deal with this child’s behavior,  the teacher quickly replies that it wouldn’t be fair to the other children if this child didn’t use the same behavior chart.

A three year old boy is crying miserably upon waking up from his nap. His caregivers are busy helping other children with their blankets and cots as he sits on his cot unattended. “What’s happening?” asks the consultant in the room, pointing to the crying child. “ Oh. He does that every day when he wakes up,” says the teacher. She addresses the child. “Daniel, I told you before that big boys don’t cry. If you want to ride the big boy bicycle when we go to the yard, you’d better stop that crying!” At this, Daniel throws his shoe, unintentionally hitting another child passing by. The other child stands still in shock for a moment and then bursts into tears. The teacher shakes her head. “I told them to keep him with the two year olds, but they gave him to me anyway!” she tells  the consultant in a loud voice, exasperated. Then, turning to Daniel, she says, “ There’ll be no bike riding for you today! You can sit and watch while the other children ride.”

As 8th grade students file into their classroom, their teacher instructs them to remove their outerwear and prepare for learning. One child tightens the strings of his hooded sweatshirt, hiding his face, and slumps down in his seat. When the teacher challenges him, he stands up, indignant, insisting that he will keep the sweatshirt on. The interaction ends with the frustrated teacher telling the student to leave the classroom and go see the dean. The dean writes up a report, adding to a growing file of this student’s negative behavior.

The Risks of Behavior Modification Systems: Shame and Punishment

Educational programs for children often face the dilemma of how to manage challenging behaviors in increasingly stressed school environments. In most settings, due to external pressures, there is less and less time for authentic connection-making or creative or self-directed work, and more and more pressure on teachers and students to “perform” academically. More and more often, we see schools relying on implementing behavioral management programs to manage and shift children’s behavior. The basic premise of these programs is to reinforce positive behavior with a rewards system. In one of the examples above, we see the use of a behavioral modification chart. Typically, charts have levels or ranks, and the teacher moves each child’s name or number to a particular level based on the child’s most recent behavior.The highest card indicates that a child is meeting or exceeding the behavioral expectations in the classroom. The lowest card usually indicates that the teacher will call home, something that we frequently witness causing an undue amount of anxiety for children of all ages.  In many classrooms that we visit, it seems to be the case that these behavior management systems are relied upon to encourage and demand compliance from children. It is not unusual for the children who struggle the most to adapt to classroom norms to also be the children most easily triggered by the downward movement of their clothespins or cards, which publicly demonstrates their negative value in the classroom.

Often schools carry this theory even further by applying consequences  (read “punishment”) for low-ranking behavior, such as loss of recess or other special experiences, or a call home. Not surprisingly, the results of implementing these behavioral programs sharply highlight and replicate a macro-system based on shame instead of support, control instead of empowerment, punishment instead of healing: a system that invalidates young children’s deeply-felt experience of their own lives. It has been our observation over years of consulting that behavioral modification systems are implemented more often in schools in poor communities and communities of color and that, in racially diverse classrooms, they are used more regularly with children of color.

Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot writes: “In our efforts to control and measure, in fact, we often confuse difference with deviance, illness with identity; we pathologize, exclude, and then label those children who do not fit the norm–who trouble the waters, who misbehave–and we reward the teachers who contain and squelch the troublemakers” (in Shalaby, 2017, p.xi). Indeed, we see behavior modification systems as an effort on teachers’ parts to contain children while ignoring the emotions that underlie their behaviors. Carla Shalaby writes:  “Teachers in training learn to punish transgressions because it is not controversial to be castigated if you misbehave. It is your choice and your fault. This logic is deeply embedded in the American psyche—the nation with one of the highest incarceration rates in the world—and it justifies our decision to throw away young lives by making young people think the fault for that exclusion is entirely their own” (Shalaby, 2017, p.xxii). It is easy to make the connection between punitive systems in school and the school-to-prison pipeline that has been widely and clearly documented in recent decades.

Let us return to Stories From the Field: Part 1. Our experience is that the vast majority of teachers and administrators want to support children, and that behavior modification systems such as the behavior chart are often introduced with the positively-framed goals of helping children to acquire self-management skills and creating a positive learning space. Unfortunately, these systems are far more likely to induce a feeling of shame in children who cannot meet the criteria on a given day, or every day. Brene Brown (2012, p.69) defines shame as, “the intensely painful feeling of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.” When we see children vehemently deny that they did anything wrong, we understand that they would rather feel any other feeling than shame. While teachers often express frustration that children do not want to take responsibility for their actions, we prefer to interpret those children’s denial of wrongdoing as a natural, human reaction of avoiding shame, and ensuring self-protection. The rare children whom we have observed who are able to acknowledge that they hurt others and sincerely apologize are those who have been most well-supported emotionally in and out of school. We propose that teachers shift the lens through which they view the moment in which the child “refuses to take responsibility for his actions” to a lens of compassion, using their knowledge of development and respect for children’s life experiences. Utilizing a pathway through relationship and emotional literacy, teachers can empower students to accept  responsibility without feeling shamed in the process. The following anecdotes exemplify what such a shift in teacher practice toward a lens of compassion might look like.

Stories from the Field: Part 2

A class of four-year-olds has recently started using individual feelings charts in the classroom. One child is especially drawn to using his, and teachers have noticed that since he has had the ability to show his feelings on his own personal feelings chart, his outbursts have diminished. One day there is an unexpected fire drill, something that has caused him great agitation in the past. On this day, he runs to his feelings chart, moves the clothespin to “scared,” quickly finds a teacher’s hand to hold, and participates calmly in the fire drill. His teacher is able to talk to him later about how scary fire drills can be, and how glad she is that he could tell her his feelings using the chart.

An exhausted third grader puts his head down on the desk, having crumpled up his math assignment and thrown it on the floor. His teacher quietly acknowledges his fatigue and frustration, and invites him to rest in the cozy corner for a while. While he lies on the soft beanbag, in this small space, he holds his classroom teddy bear for comfort. Eventually, he reaches for his journal where he can write or draw something about what is making him feel so tired and frustrated. His teacher will read it if he wants her to.

In a similar anecdote to the 8th grade scenario above, instead of publicly challenging the student, the teacher approaches him quietly when all begin writing. He observes that when asked to remove outerwear, this student kept his on; he says,  “It looks like you really don’t want to take your sweatshirt off today.” The student confides that the sweatshirt was a gift from his late grandfather and is helping him feel connected to his memory. With this knowledge, the teacher allows the student to keep the sweatshirt on for today, and makes a mental note to find time to further connect with the student and to let the guidance counselor know he may need some space to process. The teacher also makes a mental note to reconsider his own policy regarding outerwear, realizing that the clothing may provide a feeling of security and retreat for these older students who still experience strong emotions.

Emotional Literacy: Healing and Validating

In Stories From the Field: Part 2, teachers have internalized ERP concepts of “inviting and containing” and “relationship-based teaching.” Instead of behavior charts, they have created “feelings charts.” Instead of removing the children from their community, they have provided quiet areas for children to retreat from group life when their feelings become overwhelming.  Feelings Charts, cozy corners, and other types of emotionally responsive invitations are alternatives to behavioral management programs. Feelings charts give children the opportunity to think about how they feel, and to communicate those feelings to the adults in the classroom. Many children struggle to make sense of their internal states, and feelings charts help children to develop emotional literacy.

Adults can help children use the charts to think about cause and effect. For example, “You came in this morning and you were feeling angry, and now you knocked down his block building. I wonder if you did that because you were feeling angry?” When children are able to identify feelings, they are more likely to develop self-regulation and to find more constructive ways to express them.

Using Feelings Charts: Introducing Emotional Literacy

In the current political era, the importance of the social emotional learning (SEL) that happens in school settings has begun to be more widely recognized. “Trauma-informed practice” has become a buzz-phrase, and more funds are being allocated to SEL. We recommend teaching emotional literacy through feelings charts.  A feelings curriculum is one of the basic recommendations we make at all grade levels. We have come to view reflecting children’s experiences and supplying language to express their feelings as acts of radical love. Naming a child’s feelings humanizes the child for the teacher who is struggling to support that child. The behavior becomes secondary to the human value of the child experiencing the feelings at the root of the behavior.

We suggest teachers incorporate feelings charts in stages, first introducing them and making them part of their classes’ daily routines, soliciting children’s ideas and observations. After a while, children should be invited to use the charts independently. Children should be able to move their names (or popsicle sticks, or pictures, or magnets) on their own. This can happen as they come into the classroom in the morning. It should be stress-free. Teachers should invite children to move their indicators throughout the day as necessary. This helps teachers to track how children are feeling at school, and helps both children who struggle with articulating their feelings and children who act out their feelings to express them in a productive way. Some children may use the chart frequently at first and less so over time while others may continue to use it throughout the school year and some may need their teachers’ help to use it at all. As well, teachers can always draw the class’s attention back to the chart when they observe that the theme of feelings is relevant.

A teacher who recently implemented a feelings chart in his K-1 classroom comments, “The process of creating the feelings chart brought kids into touch with a greater range of feelings and helped expand their feelings vocabulary. We looked at characters in literature and named and identified with their feelings. Children illustrated the feelings, and used those illustrations as part of the feelings chart. This process, along with the introduction of our “peace nook,” has allowed the children fuller recognition of a variety of feelings, especially strong feelings, in themselves and in others.”

Little by little, as teachers realize the benefits of their initial efforts to incorporate more emotionally responsive approaches, we see them first shift their thinking, and then shift their practices further. By inviting children to share the authentic stories of their lives and naming and reflecting the feelings surrounding those stories, teachers and schools come to know children in deep and meaningful ways. The children in turn feel understood, valued, and safe. Instead of focusing on stopping behaviors, we encourage educators to invite schools to understand more about the complex web of reasons that children act out at school, and how to listen deeply to what they are communicating through their behavior. Research shows us the power of relationship and community in regulating toxic stress in the bodies of children and adults alike. (https://developingchild.harvard.edu/resources/wp1/) (developingchild.harvard.edu/science/key-concepts/toxic-stress/tackling-toxic-stress/pushing-toward-breakthroughs-using-innovative-practice-to-address-toxic-stress/) Classrooms and schools must become communities that courageously invite and hold the real struggles, successes and experiences of all children, so that these spaces can become grounds for healing and growth, not shame and punishment.

Figure 1: Examples of classic Behavior Modification Systems

 

Figure 2: Examples of Feelings Charts in the classrooms where we consult

 

References:

 

Hurley, K. (2016). The dark side of behavior management charts. The Washington Post, September 29, 2016.

Lawrence-Lightfoot, S. (2017). Quoted in the introduction introduction to Shalaby, C. (2017) Troublemakers: Lessons in freedom from young children in school. The New Press.

Brown, B (2012). Daring greatly: how the courage to be vulnerable transforms the way we live, love, parent and lead. USA: Avery.

Koplow, L. (2002). Creating schools that heal: real life solutions. New York: Teachers College Press.

 

Margaret Blachly is a psychoeducational specialist with Emotionally Responsive Practice at Bank Street College. Her background is in the early childhood classroom, where she has worked as a bilingual and special education teacher in independent, charter, and public school settings. In addition to her work with ERP, she currently works as a consultant in a variety of school settings.

Noelle Dean is a mental health specialist with Emotionally Responsive Practice at Bank Street College. She also consults in the lower school at the Bank Street School for Children where she is affectionately called the “feelings teacher.”

Critical Care, Cultural Humility and the Reflective Practitioner

As a social work educator trained as an education researcher, my understanding of the work of practitioners in schools and other community settings is informed by a number of conceptual frameworks. My practice career as a school social worker and my identity as a Latinx/Diasporican scholar have also informed the research questions I have pursued. Conducting research on racial justice initiatives in the field of child welfare, I have been interested in strategies for supporting the development of skills for culturally responsive practice, deepening engagement and improving outcomes with youth from racially and culturally marginalized families and communities. In this essay I reflect upon key concepts that have emerged in my work that offer insight into how teachers and social workers can strengthen their ability to address racial disparities in their practice.

Early in my academic career, I studied Latino youth and their experiences of teacher caring in schools (De Jesús, 2005; Antrop-Gonzalez & De Jesús, 2006). Drawing upon the literature on caring in education, I synthesized a body of theory that argued marginalized students engage with and respond to educators who authentically care about them rather than with educators who subscribe to a notion of aesthetic caring – the idea that students must demonstrate that they care about learning first (by exemplars of academic performance) in order to gain the recognition of educators. Angela Valenzuela, in her book Subtractive Schooling: US and Mexican Students and the Politics of Caring (1999) asserts that a prerequisite for Latino students to engage in learning is that teachers convey they care about them as individuals and are affirming of their identity. Emerging from this analysis, my colleague Rene Antrop-González and I advanced the term critical care to describe the nature of relationships that teachers developed with students. Based on our research in two Latinx high schools we asserted that teacher caring behavior was rooted in a critical analysis of the learning conditions confronted by marginalized youth and unlike teacher caring behavior motivated by pity (Ay! Bendito caring),[1] critical care was characterized by an emphasis on high academic expectations and the provision of academic and interpersonal support. Critical care provided a deeper understanding of the nature of motivations and relationships between teachers and marginalized students (Antrop-González & De Jesús, 2006).[2]

More recently, my research has focused on understanding strategies to support professionals in the field of child welfare to enhance their knowledge and skill in working with youth and families of color with the goal of reducing racial and ethnic disproportionality.[3]In social work and many other professions, this work, historically, has been organized under the construct of cultural competence. Cultural Competence refers to an integrated knowledge base and skill set which enables professionals to work respectfully and effectively with individuals, families, and communities from diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds (De Jesús, 2012).[4]Cultural competence has been operationalized as supporting practitioners in developing: (1) awareness of their own cultural values, biases, and position in established power structures and the impact of these relationships with clients, (2) knowledge of diverse people, their needs and attitudes; and (3) skills to implement culturally appropriate interventions (Sue & Sue, 2003,Danso, 2016).

A number of critiques of cultural competence have also been advanced – focusing on the neglect of structural or critical theoretical analysis that illuminates unequal power relationships and the functions of social control enacted by professionals (Ortega & Faller, 2011; Garran & Rozas, 2013; Danso, 2016). This gap contributes to misconceptions about culture and stereotyping which may encourage a false sense of confidence in workers about their knowledge of the cultural identities of racialized groups(Ortega & Faller, 2011). In addition, use of the term competence is problematic in that it is often misinterpreted to convey the false idea that mastery of a culture can be achieved through the acquisition of knowledge or attending specialized trainings (Tervalon & Murray Garcia, 1998; Ortega & Faller, 2011; Danso, 2016). Acquisition of knowledge is a necessary but insufficient condition to work effectively with children and families of color. As Tervalon and Murray Garcia (1998) observe, “an isolated increase in knowledge without a consequent change in attitude or behavior is of questionable value” (p. 119). They introduced the concept of cultural humility to invite their fellow physicians to develop the flexibility and humility to “say when they truly do not know” and to access resources to enhance their practice. They also sought to address power imbalances in the patient–physician relationship through “life-long commitment to self-awareness and advocacy in addressing health disparities” (p. 118).

A growing body of scholars suggest that our professional emphasis on knowledge must be accompanied by a change in attitudes toward people of color and immigrants in ways that enable practitioners to partner with individuals and families in understanding their cultural identities. In this regard, Hook and colleagues (2013) define cultural humility as the “ability to maintain an interpersonal stance that is other-oriented (or open to the other) in relation to aspects of the identity that are important to the [Person]” (p. 2). This emphasizes the concept of intersectionality — the idea that multiple identities intersect to create a whole that is different from the component identities. These identities that intersect include gender, race, social class, ethnicity, nationality, sexual orientation, religion, age, mental disability, physical disability, mental illness, and physical illness as well as other forms of identity. Intersectionality theory proposes that we think of each element or trait of a person as inextricably linked with all of the other elements in order to fully understand one’s identity (Crenshaw, 1995; Collins, 2015). Ortega and Faller (2011) advance an intersectional cultural humility perspective that argues “intersecting group memberships affect people’s expectations, quality of life, capacities as individuals and parents, and life chances.” (p. 43). They further articulate a framework for racial equity practice, observing that it is the responsibility of the worker to bridge differing perspectives by employing four distinct cultural humility skills (active listening, reflecting, reserving judgment, and entering the client’s world) which have found support in the social work literature but are especially important in enacting culturally responsive practice (p. 37).

With colleagues from New York City’s Administration for Children’s Services I studied the impact of a Racial Equity and Cultural Competency Case Consultation Model utilized to assist preventive service providers in developing and refining their awareness, knowledge and skills to address racial disproportionality in their work (De Jesús et. al. 2016). This model, which is a form of group supervision, supports practitioners to present cases in order to discuss dynamics of race, class, gender, sexual orientation and their (reciprocal) influence on the case. Facilitated by an experienced clinician, the model asks the presenter to discuss at length his or her own intersectional identity including those of other members of a team working with a family before discussing/presenting the identified case. In this regard, how the identities of the worker and other members of the team may influence decision making is considered an integral part of the case being presented. This model enables workers and facilitators to interrogate racial power dynamics as they may play themselves out on the team as well as defensive strategies utilized by both whites and people of color when discussing thorny issues of race and identity.

The qualitative component of our study found that participants in the model reported enhanced understanding of interpersonal racism, one’s own bias and assumptions, and the subtleties of racial power and privilege within professional relationships. Study participants described enactment of the skills of reserving judgment and entering the client’s world in compelling ways. These findings, while limited, suggest that approaches to professional development that foster self-awareness of one’s own identities, power, and privilege may support changes in practitioner attitudes and over time. In addition, the opportunity to engage in supportive and critical supervision to reflect upon how these identities and our experiences shape our implicit bias is an essential component of culturally responsive practice. In his seminal work The Reflective Practitioner, philosopher Donald Schön(1983) advanced a discussion of reflective practice as reflection in action and reflection on action. Schön invited us to develop the ongoing capacity to examine our motivation and behavior as professionals as we practice, as well as to do so after we act (which also prepares us before we act). The concepts of critical care, cultural humility, and intersectionality inform an evolving framework as to how reflective practice influences culturally responsive practice. The racial equity and cultural competency case consultation provides a promising structure and process for reflecting on action in order to strengthen our ability to reflect in action.

 

Footnotes

[1]Ay! bendito is a Spanish term which translates as “blessed be” and is used as an expression of pity.

[2]While I have not yet done so, I have become interested in exploring the scientific literature on emotions like empathy and sympathy as it relates to motivation as a way to deepen this explanation informed by evidence.

[3]Racial disproportionality refers to the under or overrepresentation of a racial or ethnic group along the child welfare continuum (e.g., prevention, reporting, investigation, service provision, out-of-home care, permanency) relative to its percentage in the total population (Child Welfare Information Gateway, 2016).

[4]This also extends to institutional and organizational policies and practices that support the reduction of health and mental health disparities through improving patient–provider communication, workforce diversity, and community engagement (De Jesús, 2012).

References

Antrop-González, R. & De Jesús, A. (2006). Toward a Theory of Critical Care in Urban Small School Reform: Examining Structures and Pedagogies of Caring in Two Latino Community Based Schools: The International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education. 19(4): 409-433.

Child Welfare Information Gateway (2016) Issue Brief:Racial Disproportionality and Disparity in Child Welfare. Retrieved from https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubs/issue-briefs/racial-disproportionality/

Collins, P.H.(2015) Intersectionality’s Definitional Dilemmas. Annual Review of Sociology. 41(1): 1-20.

Crenshaw, K. W. (1995).The intersection of race and gender. In K. Crenshaw, N. Gotanda, G. Peller, & K. Thomas (Eds.), Critical race theory (pp. 357–383). New York: The New Press.

Danso, R. (2016) Cultural competence and cultural humility: A critical reflection on key cultural diversity concepts. Journal of Social Work. 0(0): 1-21.

De Jesús, A., Martinez, R., Hogan-LaMonica, J., Adams, J., & Lacey, T. (2016) Putting Structural Racism on the Table: The Implementation and Evaluation of a Novel Racial Equity and Cultural Competency Training/Consultation Model in New York City. Journal of Cultural Diversity in Social Work. 25(4), 300-319.

De Jesús, A. (2012). Cultural Competence. In Banks, J. (Ed.) Encyclopedia of Diversity in Education.Thousand Oaks, CA. Sage Publishers.

De Jesús, A. (2005) Theoretical Perspectives on the Underachievement of Latino Students in US Schools: Toward a Framework for Culturally Additive Schooling. In Pedraza, P. & Rivera, M. (Eds.), Latino Education: An Agenda for Community Action Research. Mahwah, N.J. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Garran, A.M. & Rozas, L. W. (2013) Cultural Competence Revisited. Journal of Ethnic and Cultural Diversity in Social Work,22: 97-111. Doi:10.1080/15313204.2013.785337

Hook, J. N., Davis, D. E., Owen, J., Worthington Jr., E. L., & Utsey, S. O. (2013). Cultural humility: Measuring openness to culturally diverse clients. Journal of Counseling Psychology. doi:10.1037/a0032595

Ortega, R. M., Faller, K. C. (2011) Training child welfare workers from an intersectional cultural humility perspective: A paradigm shift. Child Welfare90: 27–49.

Sue, D. W. & Sue, D. (2003). Counseling the Culturally Diverse: Theory and Practice. (4th edition). New York: John Wiley & Sons.

Tervalon, M., & Murray-Garcia, J. (1998). Cultural humility versus cultural competence: A critical distinction in defining physician training outcomes in multicultural education. Journal of Health Care for the Poor and Undeserved, 9, 117-125.

Valenzuela, Angela. (1999). Subtractive schooling: U.S.-Mexican youth and the politics of caring. Albany: State University of New York Press.

 

 

 

Tony De Jesús is an Associate Professor in the Department of Social Work and Equitable Community Practice at the University of Saint Joseph in West Hartford, CT. Originally from the Bronx, he received his MSW at the Boston University School of Social Work and was a school social worker in Boston prior to earning an Ed.D. at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. He previously served as a researcher and administrator at the Centro de Estudios Puertorriqueños and on the faculty at the Silberman School of Social Work at Hunter College. He is conducting a study of the Connecticut Department of Children and Families’ Racial Justice Initiative.