By Na’im Madyun, associate dean for undergraduate, diversity, and international programs

I recently returned from a leadership training where a distinguished law professor used our cohort as a case study for demonstrating the importance of academic freedom. As part of his demonstration, he integrated the N-word (the actual word) into a series of hypothetical, teachable leadership moments. His position was that if the N-word was directly relevant to educational materials (in court documents or an assigned piece of literature, etc) or the space, the fullness of the word should be expressed. To limit the fullness of the word to students is not only limit free speech, but it places unfair restrictions on the educational space.

One professor expressed that she does not allow her students to use the actual N-word regardless of its relevance.  His reply was,  “you’re not preparing them for the real world. You’re lucky I’m not your Provost.” Each time I heard the word, I had an involuntary physical and psychological reaction.  I was bothered by what seemed to be his comfort and willingness to exercise his “right”(and of course privilege) to freely deliver the word to future higher education leaders.  I silently resisted the experience. I walked several steps to the back of the room and stood up for the remainder of his talk. I chose not to applaud at the end and casually walked back to my seat.  I vowed to find a way to intellectually unfollow him on twitter. The moment is still rather raw, but it ironically intersects with the anniversary of another moment.

Fifty years ago, there was a pivotal moment in the movement for Civil Rights.  One prominent leader who emerged during that time has been considered by some to be the most influential African American in history. He spoke of unity, voting rights, spiritual well-being, access to education and the importance of love.  History has shown us his imperfections. Time has shown us his impact. Towards the end of his life, many of his followers felt that he began to stray from the very principles that effectively moved the Nation.  He was assassinated before he turned 40. At his funeral, portions of his eulogy included the following:

“There are those who will consider it their duty…to tell us to revile him, to flee, even from the presence of his memory, to save ourselves…he is not a man but a demon, a monster, a subverter…They will say that…he is of hate – a fanatic, a racist – who can only bring evil…”

On February 21^st, 1965, Malcom X was assassinated in front of his wife and children and 50 years later we more comfortably attache to the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday and Selma from January to March.

What is intriguing to me is not that Malcolm is seen as less positive than Martin, but that history seems resistant to seeing Malcolm as positive at all.

Maybe it’s because Malcom X once said, “Be peaceful, be courteous, obey the law, respect everyone; but if someone puts his hand on you, send him to the cemetery.” But he also said, “we need more light about each other. Light creates understanding, understanding creates love, love creates patience, and patience creates unity.”

Yet, Malcom X is remembered easiest as a threat – or the anti-Martin. The leader filled with unnecessary and misplaced provocation. Dr. King is Professor X and Malcolm X is Magneto.

Consequently, too much of what is connected to Malcom X might automatically get sorted into a place that is beneath our support. This might explain why some elementary students were not allowed to even write about his life.   Researchers once said that when we feel threatened by a situation or person, we embrace our in-groups even more and dismiss our “others.”

Malcom X once said, “If you’re not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed, and loving the people who are doing the oppressing.”

Issues of diversity and equity are too complex to view the work in binaries or as having one, immutable right side. If we want our students and ourselves to truly appreciate differences and use it as a source for complex thought, competency building and excellence , we must sometimes be at least willing to separate the message from the messenger, the passion from the protest and perhaps even the N-word from the “pompous.”

By Na’im Madyun, associate dean for undergraduate, diversity, and international programs

In her book “Multiplication is for White People,” Lisa Delpit writes that the existence of TFA institutionalizes an unfortunate reality.  According to Delpit, first year teachers are the least able to produce positive growth in student achievement. In addition, teaching quality increases dramatically in the first three years in the classroom and then begins to level off in the fourth.

Teach for America (TFA) corps members are asked to commit to only two years (although many stay longer) . Teach for America corps members also teach to a 90% African American/Latino population (in part due to their mission and TEACH grant support). Building upon these statements as truths, one can conclude that many Black and Brown students are receiving a less than high quality educational experience from Teach America corps members.

This educational experience is coming at a time when racial tensions are heightened and opportunity gaps are becoming increasingly impactful on society (Some economists argue that closing the opportunity gap by a third would lead to a savings of $50 billion dollars annually) and private dollars are reforming public education (Diane Ravitch argues these reform efforts worsen educational outcomes in high poverty areas ). Many argue that TFA is part of this privatization movement and many veteran teachers suffer as a consequence.

So, why has CEHD decided to partner with TFA?

This past weekend, I attended a funeral in my hometown of Helena, Arkansas, where Teach for America has been present in this poor Mississippi Delta area for over 20 years. My uncle lived to the age of 69. Person after person would, in one form or another, reference my uncle’s many interests and talents.

He was a pastor, an architect, a musician, a radio host, and a teacher (to name but a few).  Even though he only recently “retired” back to Helena (his childhood home), he wanted to run for mayor. He knew politics might encourage the making of strange partnering, but he felt he could identify where interests converged to make a difference in the outcomes for all youth.  The convergence of interests sometimes can provide opportunities to transform spaces that once seemed immutable.

After the funeral, I sat with a retired teacher that I somehow never met growing up, and decided to get her sense of the state of education in Helena. She spoke on low teacher expectations for student outcomes, poor classroom management and the growth of charter schools.  I felt it was appropriate to get a good quote about TFA in Helena and asked a very sharp, well informed question: “So, whaddya think of TFA?” Her response surprised me: “I have no problem with TFA. There are excellent teachers and not so excellent teachers just like in any school. The question is, where is teacher education?”

In Delpit’s book, she shares that she has no interest in proposing the termination of TFA, but has an interest in getting the young, idealistic corps members to commit for longer than 2 years.  She also argued for quality, experienced educators who know the local community to be mentors and teacher educators.  H. Rich Milner argues that teacher education can be part of disruptive educational movements designed to reduce inequality in systems by converging interests and strategically leveraging that convergence.

Perhaps, that is what CEHD is trying to do.

The number of TFA corps members who stay beyond the two years has increased, but maybe interests can be strategically converged to increase TFA member presence in the communities beyond the two years.  Julie Malinowski, a TFA member, met her husband (a fellow TFA member from Wisconsin) in Helena and they decided to lay their roots there. I reached out to her in Helena while there and she shared this:

“TFA has brought an influx of well-educated young professionals to Helena and the greater Delta region…. I know of a number of local folks who are talking about moving back to be a part of this excitement, to be a part of making Helena a better place to live.”

TFA has functioned to improve the lives of  some young Black males, perhaps interests can be strategically converged where more Black male lives can be impacted.

I reached out to my former TFA teacher, Mr. Fee. My younger brother passed away of leukemia during my senior year. After the funeral, Mr. Fee, a Stanford graduate with a degree in English Literature, asked if he could write a college letter of recommendation for me. I agreed.  He proceeded to interview many of my former teachers and constructed a beautiful composite recommendation full of quotes, facts and reflections. I wasn’t sure what he saw in me, but I began to see myself a little differently afterwards. Mr. Fee has since moved back to California and started an educational technology company. He shared with me the following words:

“Teach For America did not just grant me a career direction, it also exposed me to a part of the country where I might otherwise not have spent time, and thus introduced me to lifelong friends who are unlike people I’ve made at other times in my career… I learned firsthand about working and living with people from different backgrounds, different beliefs, and about periods in our nation’s history that I might otherwise have ignored.”

If CEHD is sincere about the importance of Teacher Education in addressing educational inequality, perhaps it has an obligation to become an unlikely partner with TFA.