Still in the trenches of education: A Personal Journey
The school district I am contracted out for does not have a large population of Black students, but for Colorado Springs it is considered a Black school or, as the opposing schools gleefully chant at high school sporting events, ghetto! Everything is relative. If I were to take this high school and place it in the middle of St. Louis, Missouri, Columbus, Mississippi, or Dayton, Ohio, it would be considered one of the most highly funded and well-equipped schools in that city. But here, in Colorado, it is regarded as one of the lower-tiered schools. Traditionally, the general public thinks of underperforming schools when those schools are known to be predomantly Black. Of course that is not true but sometimes perception is the reality. Even though the number of Black students in the school is low, the thinking around this city is that this is a ghetto school. Comparatively, the neighborhood in which the school resides is in a lower income area. Remember, that figure is relative to its location. Being considered a Black school is only a social and cultrual construct. It is not reality.
Adopting this mindset cultivates lowered expectations, both consciously and subconsciously, regarding the academic achievements of the school. Additionally, it casts a pervasive, ominous shadow over the school, suggesting it falls short of the standards set by its counterparts. This has not only negative effect on the schools, these type of thoughts affect the entire city.
Unfortunately, there is concrete evidence that this school district’s performance, as measured in test scores, is near the bottom of the State. That is a fundamental statistic. Scores have dropped for all races. But Hispanic and Black students, whose scores were already at a dangerously low level, have decreased more and at a higher rate than White students’ decrease.
Here are the latest numbers for Colorado:
English Language Arts (ELA): In 2023, 28% of Black or African American students reached proficiency in ELA. This compares to 59% of Asian students, 26% of Hispanic or Latino students, 56% of White students, and 47% of students in additional subgroups (American Indian or Alaska Native, Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander, Two or More).
Math: In the same year, 18% of Black or African American students were proficient in math. This is compared to 56% of Asian students, 16% of Hispanic or Latino students, 44% of White students, and 35% of students in the additional subgroups mentioned above.
These statistics highlight significant racial and ethnic disparities in academic proficiency among students in Colorado. The nearly 50-point gap between White students and Black and Hispanic students is astounding! This paints a terrible picture and does not bode well for the immediate and far future, not only for those minorities that are left behind but for the country as a whole.
In the past, America thought that integrating schools was the answer to equal access and opportunities for Black students. School District 11 is the most ethnically diverse in Colorado. It is 48% White, 34% Hispanic/Latino, 7% Black, 1.4 Asian/Pacific Islander, and 0.5% Native American. Yet, even though White and Asian students continue to score high on tests, Black students are scoring lower, and the gap between these groups is widening.
All Black students in Colorado Springs attend predominantly White schools because the dominant race in Colorado Springs is White. Black residents make up only 6 percent of the population and Whites make up 73%. If integration was the answer to the huge gaps in educational equality in the past, why do we have such a gap on educational test scores?
I retired from teaching over six years ago. I taught high school technology classes in a predominately White school. I was not always a teacher. Before I worked in the classroom, I was a retired military soldier trained by the Army Signal Corp and worked in technology. After retirement, I worked as a Network Analyst for Time Warner Telecom for nine years. I then switched my career to teaching. As one of the oldest rookie teachers in the history of education (lol), I found I had much to learn about the teaching profession. I had a whirlwind romance with teaching, and those first few years were filled with pleasant surprises. Little did I know my enthusiasm for teaching would take a nose-dive in a very short period.
When Trump arrived on the political scene, I saw it in the classroom and the halls. There were more racial incidents than before, and then there was a certain boldness that I was not used to seeing or hearing. This was true not only for the students but also for the parents. Those parents, mostly living in rural areas, were very outspoken about certain books being banned and critical race theory, and all of a sudden, the education board turned a sharp right. The hate and animosity weighed heavy on me, and many times, I would sit in the parking lot before class started and try to get my head together and put my heart and soul in the right place before I walked into the building.
Often, I heard the word nigger in the hallways, spoken by both White, Hispanic, and Black students. Once, I called a group of Black students into my room and asked them why this language was accepted. They did not have an answer for me. Society tries to regulate this word. That’s not easy, it is all around us in popular culture, and it seems we cannot eliminate this word until we (Blacks) stop using it in our songs, jokes, and podcasts. That’s not going to happen. But for someone my age, hearing this word come from 15-year-old White boys and girls was jarring. I knew it was time to retire.
In my book of essays, Binary Society, I wrote about it in a piece titled No Classroom for Old Men, describing the emotional toll the classroom had on me. The blatant racism, threats of violence, and not to mention the political landscape the country was sliding into. A few co-workers were saddened to read that chapter, and they had no idea the toll it was taking on me. I was the only Black teacher at my school. It culminated in me being carted away in an ambulance after my blood pressure rocketed while I was running my cybersecurity club after school. Again, I knew it was time to retire.
In Ruha Benjamin’s book, Race After Technology, she hit the nail on the head when she stated about teaching,
Racism, I often say, is a form of theft. Yes, it has justified the theft of land, labor, and life throughout the centuries. But racism also robs us of our relationships, stealing our capacity to trust one another, ripping away the social fabric, and every anonymous post pilfering our ability to build community. I knew that such direct exposure to this kind of unadulterated racism among people (students) whom I encountered everyday would quickly steal my enthusiasm for teaching.
Unfortunately, racism is only one issue that makes teaching in public schools difficult. It is just another layer, albeit a very thick layer, of why teaching is so difficult, no matter how much altruism I try to feed my brain and mind. Altruism? Yes, how else would I describe any teacher, Black, or White, who faces the cumbrous tasks of teaching in difficult situations daily?
Why did I return to teaching? The answer is simple: my work isn’t done. There are attainable enhancements that, while not financially burdensome, require a significant investment of time and effort. However, this investment is worthwhile. Enhancing the life and opportunities of even a single individual can have a profound impact, rippling out to positively affect thousands of others.
For this essay I will not dive into the complicated reasons for Black underachivement in national test scores. That is a subject for a volume of books and I will undertake that at a later time. For now or from here, I know I will not be able to change the world. That does not preclude me from taking action. I am speaking of my time and expertise, (what little I have left), to be used in real time, to help improve the future trajectory of these students, by prividing support and guidence in the form of educational technology training. Everyone has to do their part, no matter how small.
The test scores of Black students are a cause for alarm. Everything else aside, if this were the only issue we had to deal with, immediate action would still be needed. This is nothing less than an emergency. Statistics? These are numbers, a collection of data that must be collected and analyzed. Much data has been given to please those who care about these things. But those numbers are ignored or swept under a rug by the public. This data collection and analysis needs one important third step after collecting and analyzing this data: action. If there is no action after collecting and analyzing data, the whole process becomes meaningless.
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After I resigned from my job as the program director for cybersecurity education at the National Cybersecurity Center, I started a 501c3 non-profit to bring STEM education classes to the school districts with a fearful shortage of STEM teachers. My company is called SEMtech (Student Engagement & Mentoring in Technology). It did not take long for me to find out that, for several reasons, teaching did not become easier in my six-year absence. Cell phone addiction has gotten much worse, something I never thought was possible, based on my previous experience. But America has had a little hick-up between when I retired from teaching and now: COVID. I do not know the percentage of high schoolers with smartphones, but I have not yet found one student without a smartphone since my return. In the 2010s, a handful of students were always without a phone. Among the many things that COVID has shown us is that students have become even more attached to their phones during the pandemic. More addicted would be a more apt term. I have to balance between a draconian, no-hold-barred banishment of smartphones — putting them all in a basket before class or trying to face reality and letting them use their phones in class for assignments instead of their computers.
The students in my classes have also changed. Students are less engaging or not genuinely excited, but that may be because of my teaching methods or the course (Intro to Computer Science)itself. Or (for my ego) it could be that most of them had not been exposed to cybersecurity or technology STEM courses until they arrived in high school. I have 12th graders who are just now attending their first STEM class. Dozens of studies show that introducing STEM early in life is the best way to introduce students to STEM and have them maintain that interest well after high school. This is not happening in some places, but in the areas that do have STEM courses in place in the earlier grades, Black and Hispanic students still score much lower than their White co-students in a vast and growing gap.
The picture I painted above is bleak. It is a problem, and the first question is, why is this the reality? There are more answers to the “why” than I have time to write. However, there is no doom and gloom that some may imagine after going over the statistics. Since cognizant abilities are equally spread among all humans, that alone gives me the fuel to ensure that those students who are being left behind are given the opportunity to be exposed to STEM from pre-school through the 12th grade.
The action I decided on doing was to provide free, but quality education for those that required it. This was not limited to Black students, it is open to every student, regarless race or gender. However, I purposely targeted the groups that are historically underepresent in the technology industry. It is one thing to complain, but when it is followed by action, it not only makes the problem real, but at the some time, it is the beggining of something better. Even if we fall short of our goals, we will always end up in a better place from where we started.
When I resigned from my position, The National Cybersecurity Center contacted my sources of grant money and blocked my ability to receive any grants for my SEMtech non-profit. They instructed their employees, even the ones that I hired, to refrain from speaking with me. They cut off my access to my email and documents days before my last official workday. And that’s not all; their lawyers contacted me several times, threatening me with legal action if I contacted any of my former grant sources.
This NCC initiative proved to be a disheartening effort. It became apparent that the National Cybersecurity Center was not aligned with the interests of the students I advocate for. They seem to overlook the vastness of our world and the abundant opportunities for work and grants available to all legitimate organizations. The demand is undeniably there, negating any justification for their actions. Their attempt to undermine my dedication to the deserving community I support, only served to expose their leadership’s narrow-mindedness and lack of foresight.
All of those actions were of no consequence to my goals and my ability to deliver what I promissed and know is needed, not only for my community but for the entire ecosystem of cybersecurity education. Despite the difficulties of education, I will never turn my back on those communities in desperate need of quality education that will help them become contributing citizens years from now. We need people who actually care more about the education of those in need, instead of meetings with politicians and news cameras.
I am one of the soldiers in this battle, and just as my book stated, I am in the trenches where the change really happens. I work with real people. I will stay in the trenches and continue to help those in need, and even if those I am trying to help show me disdain or apathy, I will not be deterred from my mission.
SEMtech will grow and strive under my leadership. The only thing I would ask of anyone, the thing that I value the most, is not money but the moral support needed to change the attitudes of both the students I am trying to help and adcocte for, and the people who think those students are not important.
