The story of my dissertation

Picture this: Me -- a white, cisgender, queer, dyslexic man -- perusing the books displayed in stacks at one of the pop-up bookstores in the middle of a large conference center. 

A book catches my eye: Michael’s (2015) Raising Race Questions: Whiteness & Inquiry in Education. “That’s exactly it! I don’t really know what whiteness means, but we white folks who work in predominantly white independent schools need to ask more questions about race.” And that was it. That night in my hotel room I began reading about whiteness and it feels like I have not stopped yet. #stilldyslexic 

One of the things that really hooked me was finding out I did not have to feel guilty or ashamed of being a white person; I could choose to be an anti-racist white person (Tatum, 1997). But there was a catch! Being an anti-racist white person is not an identity you can just claim and be done: “It means having an understanding of what it means to be white in a society that historically, contemporarily, and systemically favored whiteness above other races. It means acknowledging one’s racial privilege and the history of racial oppression in the United States, while recognizing and confronting the racism that continues today.” (Emphasis added, Michael, 2015, p.4) This was that “both/and” stuff the facilitators of “diversity training” workshops always promote: I can both unjustly benefit from the systemic oppression of communities of color and actively work each day to disrupt and dismantle what Collins (1990) conceptualizes as a “matrix of domination” formed from interlocking systems of oppression.

The following year, I had the opportunity to attend PoCC again and picked up Stevenson’s (2014) Promoting Racial Literacy in Schools: Differences that make a difference. I devoured this book. This was it! This is why things get super uncomfortable and the conversation shuts down whenever someone suggests a conflict between a white teacher and a Black student might have something to do with race. Stevenson (2014) refers to this as the “racial elephant” in the room and asserts our anxiety around racial conflict is not the problem: 

“To be afraid of racial encounters is not the problem. Not addressing the fear of racial encounters is. [...] That schools are jungles of racial socialization is not the problem. That these jungles are mostly socializing individuals how to avoid racial tensions in our society at the relationship level is the problem of racial illiteracy” (Emphasis added, p.61). 

Learning what this was felt so liberating to me. First, it was helpful to understand I had been socialized to avoid racial tension, which meant other people must be experiencing racial stress, too. Second, there was something we could do about it: the first step was to recognize we were racially illiterate and then support each other as we work to increase our own racial literacy and tolerance for racialized discomfort. 

It all sounded totally reasonable and manageable, especially because it seemed like we were all frustrated with what we had been doing -- that is, sitting in meeting after meeting wringing our hands and wishing -- #thoughtsandprayers style -- there was something we could do about our school’s shame-inducing legacy of “failing Black boys” -- which refers to the reality very few Black young men who join our Lower School community in Kindergarten graduate from our high school. Here was something we could do! Or at least try to do! Right? 

But here we are -- years later! -- continuing to wring our hands while we search for data to “explain” what it is about these particular students that causes their struggle in this particular academic setting. Is it their slow processing speed or poor executive functioning skills? Is it their long commute? Is this really more an issue of class or a manifestation of extreme income inequality? Could it be us? Can we just hire more faculty of color? #spoileralert #yesandno 

As Michael (2015) asserts, "Inquiry is not about finding straightforward answers -- it’s about engaging in a process of seeking answers and being open to the idea that we might continue to learn the answers well after the time when we first needed to know them" (Emphasis added, p.36). Well after! This felt like the quandary Oedipus experiences toward the end of Oedipus Rex when he realizes he is the murderer of his father, the former king, and that he (Oedipus) is likely the reason a plague is devastating his kingdom (Green, 2014). #couldhavegonebetter #crashcourse 

But since tearing out my eyes and banishing myself in shame was out of the question, I turned to the wisdom of Dr. Maya Angelou -- exemplified here by an excerpt from a poem she shared with the world at the first inauguration of the 42nd president of the United States:

One of my first steps toward the horizon took the form of a pilot study focused on how students conceptualize their experiences and levels of engagement with their teachers. This study was inspired and informed by Cochran-Smith & Lytle’s (2009) “inquiry as stance,” which they define as "a framework that repositions practitioners at the center of educational transformation by capitalizing on their collective intellectual capacity when working in collaboration with many other stakeholders in the educational process" (p.153). 

Although the five students with whom I spoke each referred to a power differential between students and teachers, one student -- who identifies as a queer, cisgendered, young woman of color -- spoke explicitly to her perception of the power dynamic between her and her teachers -- who she views as “people who have the ability to mess up [her] entire year” (Appendix G). This awareness led this particular student to approach building relationships with teachers strategically, e.g., she tried her best to avoid direct confrontation with her teachers. From her perspective, the only direct action she could take when frustrated with a teacher was to be “rebellious” by disengaging in class -- the effectiveness of which even she questions.

It was then I realized that we -- as a community -- must critically reflect on how our cultural norm of conflict avoidance impacts how students engage both in class discussions and with us, which in turn informs how we construct and understand their identities as students based on our assumptions about how and why certain students participate. To examine this dynamic further, I conducted an ethnographic, practitioner research study guided by the following question: How do white faculty navigate and negotiate conversations about race and racism in our school community?

In many ways, this study was my attempt to make meaning of my own experience and observations: I wanted to learn more about why the conversations about “community building” and “diversity” felt so unsatisfying -- as if there was an unspoken covenant to talk in perpetuity around “something” no one could or would name. I wanted to get better at testifying as a witness to both the transformative power of passionate intellectual inquiry and also a whole bunch of #whitenonsense. In a sense, I wanted to extend the grading philosophy championed by Rita Pierson (2013) in her TEDTalk: “Minus-18 sucks the life out of you; plus-two says you’re not all bad.” I wanted to believe James Baldwin (1993) when he proclaimed, “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” And finally, I wanted to be able to answer a question Toni Morrison (1993) posed to white America during an interview with Charlie Rose: “What are you without racism? Are you any good?”

A key goal of this study was to complicate understandings of the status quo in order to 1) illuminate the systems of privilege unrecognized by many members of this predominantly white community, 2) provide insight into ways we might create a context for becoming more racially literate as a community so that we can create a more inclusive and equitable environment for passionate intellectual inquiry, and 3) ignite communal curiosity -- especially with regard to “inquiry as stance” practitioner research (Cochran-Smith & Lytle, 2009).