@DrRaphaelC Few things are more exciting than seeing a Black man actively engaged with students in a P -12 school setting! Whether he’s a parent, teacher, volunteer, or administrator, people take note of his presence with bated breath and await a positive end to his interaction with students. Obviously, schools are filled with caring and nurturing women, and other men, who greatly impact the lives of students every day; however, even they take pause to marvel at the outcomes of relationships between Black men and students.
Reflecting on my career as a teacher and administrator, from the very start I knew that I was doing the work for which I was destined. From my early days as a classroom teacher, I was faced with overcrowded rooms filled with children of varying ethnicities and socioeconomic statuses; many from broken homes and communities, several with IEP and 504 Plans, and some with disruptive behaviors. But it seemed as though, even as a novice teacher, I was expected to be the person who could reach each child and provide whatever he or she needed. Even the principals, experienced teachers, and many parents informed me that I was a “strong Black man,” so I should be able to handle the children and “get them in line.”
I often wondered why the focus at every school seemed to be about getting students in line, either physically or as a metaphor for compliance rather than working to understand the needs of our students, and then meeting those needs. Teachers would send their misbehaving students to me or ask me to leave my classroom and come into theirs to deal with disruptions; administrators would send children to my classroom, sometimes for multiple days, rather than suspending them; parents and students would share with me some of their very personal situations and ask me how to resolve their problems.
Suddenly, “in loco parentis” became “You Are the Father!” I was overwhelmed and frustrated by being thrust from general responsibility for students and expected to act in the absence of a parent, to being unofficially assigned the role of total responsibility for children. Because I was a Black man, many times the only one in the grade level or school, I was expected to understand the needs of every child. It was always assumed that I was an expert on poverty, behaviors, classroom management, community violence, and special education. I was expected to handle any problem without fail. The pressure to teach my classes, and handle discipline in other rooms was dizzying! For a period of years, I did the best I could, but my mindset was, ‘I am not your daddy, I am just your teacher.” But experience, and my students, would teach me valuable lessons about myself and my life’s work. I had chosen to become an educator, said it was my gift; and like it or not, my students, colleagues, and superiors had chosen me!
The defining moment for me was when I was promoted from assistant principal and assigned to my own school. As part of the celebration, the students and staff at the school had made a video in which a student dressed like me and mimicked many things I had said and done; the last half of the video showed parent and student testimonials about things I had done for them—surprisingly, almost all of the parents and students mentioned that I had acted like a father more than a teacher or administrator.
I had never given thought to the homes, churches, and little league games I had visited, helping parents secure jobs, buying groceries, teaching fathers to read and understand forthcoming lessons, so they could help their child, taking kids to barber shops, talking to students off the record and away from school about their behaviors, or any of the other things—things Black male educators do every day. I will always remember that day as the defining moment in my career when I fully understood that the reason I was successful as a teacher and administrator was because of the ‘father-like’ things I had done for children. That day shaped the rest of my career, and today I still work just as hard to reach and connect with children. I strongly believe that we cannot teach children if we cannot reach them and connect with them as individuals.
But life as an educational administrator would not be a bed of roses. While I was able to implement effective programming and innovative opportunities for students and family engagement, I have had teachers and staff, and superiors who were unwilling to see my “babies” as little more than job security and test scores. I have endured personal and professional attacks, withholding of resources, and professional sabotage from superiors and subordinates. But I have remained true to my calling and stayed focused on reaching children and educating them with excellence and rigor. I have learned that not every superintendent is concerned with my desire to reach children or their families, they are only concerned with achievement scores. As an administrator, I was always frustrated with our spending large sums of money on testing programs and materials that didn’t match the content or state requirements; then citing budgetary reasons for why we could not provide the resources to address the issues that prevented students from performing better academically.
As a Black man and strong leader, I found myself often not receiving available resources that other principals got. I also noticed that I tended to be assigned to the lowest performing schools with the fewest resources, and with the neediest students and faculty. However, through my own connections and networks, I was always able to make things work and improve student achievement. I was eventually branded as a “turnaround principal,” which basically ensures that one will work harder and do so under immense pressure and unrealistic timelines—but that takes a serious toll on one’s health and career. However, everything I have ever done has been for the betterment of children and families. Every time I’ve ever wanted to give up and walk out, every time I’ve said I was leaving P -12 and finding other opportunities, every time I’ve thought I was alone in the struggle, I have remembered that video—or even watched it—and then I knew that the struggle was worthwhile, and as a Black man, I cannot walk away from my babies.
Given the constant barrage of negative images portrayed of Black men, there is a critical need to increase the presence of Black men in P – 12 schools. Children need to see positive men in school settings, as leaders, teachers and staff, volunteers, parents, and visitors. School leaders must provide opportunities for Black men to be actively engaged in the school setting. Every aspect of the school program should include men! Black male educators must understand that what, at times, seems to be unfair and overwhelming work is part of their calling.
Because they are men, and because Black men in P – 12 settings are still an anomaly, they will often be called on by others for extra assistance and duties. It is in those moments that we are provided an awesome opportunity to connect with children who need us most but may not have the skills to articulate that need. Black male educators may be the only positive Black man in the life of a child, and while it may seem a burden, it is actually a great opportunity to shape the mind of a child, especially a Black child. Our response to children in difficult situations and challenging academic or social crisis may unlock the door to a relationship that will change the thinking of that child.
Black men in P – 12 schools can positively impact the environment and learning outcomes for children, as well as change the paradigm about Black men. Black men care about children and education! A challenge for school administrators and teachers is to understand that Black male educators are more than disciplinarians or behavioral specialists, relating to them as such undermines the strength they bring to the learning environment and leads to frustration and thoughts about leaving the school, or P – 12 education. And to the strong Black men who give their all in classrooms and schools each day, I say be encouraged, you are valued and respected more than you may realize. Just as I learned many years ago, you are not just a teacher, ‘You Are the Father!”
Bio
President and CEO of the Crawford Group
Reflecting on my career as a teacher and administrator, from the very start I knew that I was doing the work for which I was destined. From my early days as a classroom teacher, I was faced with overcrowded rooms filled with children of varying ethnicities and socioeconomic statuses; many from broken homes and communities, several with IEP and 504 Plans, and some with disruptive behaviors. But it seemed as though, even as a novice teacher, I was expected to be the person who could reach each child and provide whatever he or she needed. Even the principals, experienced teachers, and many parents informed me that I was a “strong Black man,” so I should be able to handle the children and “get them in line.”
I often wondered why the focus at every school seemed to be about getting students in line, either physically or as a metaphor for compliance rather than working to understand the needs of our students, and then meeting those needs. Teachers would send their misbehaving students to me or ask me to leave my classroom and come into theirs to deal with disruptions; administrators would send children to my classroom, sometimes for multiple days, rather than suspending them; parents and students would share with me some of their very personal situations and ask me how to resolve their problems.
Suddenly, “in loco parentis” became “You Are the Father!” I was overwhelmed and frustrated by being thrust from general responsibility for students and expected to act in the absence of a parent, to being unofficially assigned the role of total responsibility for children. Because I was a Black man, many times the only one in the grade level or school, I was expected to understand the needs of every child. It was always assumed that I was an expert on poverty, behaviors, classroom management, community violence, and special education. I was expected to handle any problem without fail. The pressure to teach my classes, and handle discipline in other rooms was dizzying! For a period of years, I did the best I could, but my mindset was, ‘I am not your daddy, I am just your teacher.” But experience, and my students, would teach me valuable lessons about myself and my life’s work. I had chosen to become an educator, said it was my gift; and like it or not, my students, colleagues, and superiors had chosen me!
The defining moment for me was when I was promoted from assistant principal and assigned to my own school. As part of the celebration, the students and staff at the school had made a video in which a student dressed like me and mimicked many things I had said and done; the last half of the video showed parent and student testimonials about things I had done for them—surprisingly, almost all of the parents and students mentioned that I had acted like a father more than a teacher or administrator.
I had never given thought to the homes, churches, and little league games I had visited, helping parents secure jobs, buying groceries, teaching fathers to read and understand forthcoming lessons, so they could help their child, taking kids to barber shops, talking to students off the record and away from school about their behaviors, or any of the other things—things Black male educators do every day. I will always remember that day as the defining moment in my career when I fully understood that the reason I was successful as a teacher and administrator was because of the ‘father-like’ things I had done for children. That day shaped the rest of my career, and today I still work just as hard to reach and connect with children. I strongly believe that we cannot teach children if we cannot reach them and connect with them as individuals.
But life as an educational administrator would not be a bed of roses. While I was able to implement effective programming and innovative opportunities for students and family engagement, I have had teachers and staff, and superiors who were unwilling to see my “babies” as little more than job security and test scores. I have endured personal and professional attacks, withholding of resources, and professional sabotage from superiors and subordinates. But I have remained true to my calling and stayed focused on reaching children and educating them with excellence and rigor. I have learned that not every superintendent is concerned with my desire to reach children or their families, they are only concerned with achievement scores. As an administrator, I was always frustrated with our spending large sums of money on testing programs and materials that didn’t match the content or state requirements; then citing budgetary reasons for why we could not provide the resources to address the issues that prevented students from performing better academically.
As a Black man and strong leader, I found myself often not receiving available resources that other principals got. I also noticed that I tended to be assigned to the lowest performing schools with the fewest resources, and with the neediest students and faculty. However, through my own connections and networks, I was always able to make things work and improve student achievement. I was eventually branded as a “turnaround principal,” which basically ensures that one will work harder and do so under immense pressure and unrealistic timelines—but that takes a serious toll on one’s health and career. However, everything I have ever done has been for the betterment of children and families. Every time I’ve ever wanted to give up and walk out, every time I’ve said I was leaving P -12 and finding other opportunities, every time I’ve thought I was alone in the struggle, I have remembered that video—or even watched it—and then I knew that the struggle was worthwhile, and as a Black man, I cannot walk away from my babies.
Given the constant barrage of negative images portrayed of Black men, there is a critical need to increase the presence of Black men in P – 12 schools. Children need to see positive men in school settings, as leaders, teachers and staff, volunteers, parents, and visitors. School leaders must provide opportunities for Black men to be actively engaged in the school setting. Every aspect of the school program should include men! Black male educators must understand that what, at times, seems to be unfair and overwhelming work is part of their calling.
Because they are men, and because Black men in P – 12 settings are still an anomaly, they will often be called on by others for extra assistance and duties. It is in those moments that we are provided an awesome opportunity to connect with children who need us most but may not have the skills to articulate that need. Black male educators may be the only positive Black man in the life of a child, and while it may seem a burden, it is actually a great opportunity to shape the mind of a child, especially a Black child. Our response to children in difficult situations and challenging academic or social crisis may unlock the door to a relationship that will change the thinking of that child.
Black men in P – 12 schools can positively impact the environment and learning outcomes for children, as well as change the paradigm about Black men. Black men care about children and education! A challenge for school administrators and teachers is to understand that Black male educators are more than disciplinarians or behavioral specialists, relating to them as such undermines the strength they bring to the learning environment and leads to frustration and thoughts about leaving the school, or P – 12 education. And to the strong Black men who give their all in classrooms and schools each day, I say be encouraged, you are valued and respected more than you may realize. Just as I learned many years ago, you are not just a teacher, ‘You Are the Father!”
Bio
President and CEO of the Crawford Group