Schooltalk: Rethinking What We Say About—and To—Students Every Day

MICA POLLOCK is the director of the Center for Research on Educational Equity, Assessment, and Teaching Excellence (CREATE) at the University of California, San Diego. The editor of Everyday Antiracism (The New Press), she lives in southern California.

© 2017 by Mica Pollock

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To my family, past and present,

who have always acted like I had something to say.

Contents

How to Read This Book

Introduction

A (Brief) Guide to Talking Effectively with Colleagues

Part One: Flipping Scripts

Chapter 1:    Group Talk

Chapter 2:    Inequality Talk

Chapter 3:    Smarts Talk

Chapter 4:    Culture Talk

Part Two: Designing Schooltalk Infrastructure

Chapter 5:    Data Talk

Chapter 6:    Life Talk

Chapter 7:    Opportunity Talk

Conclusion:  Schooltalking for Equity, Long Term

Appendix: A Guide to Talking Effectively with Colleagues

Acknowledgments

Notes

Index

How to Read This Book

A note on the chapters and activities to come.

This book is designed to support everyday exploration and inquiry by many people. You can read it alone or with others. I wanted the book to be accessible to people with a wide variety of backgrounds, and applicable to a wide variety of work and life situations. I write informally throughout this book, in short paragraphs to aid digestion.

I designed this book’s sections to be read in order. The Introduction gives you an overview of the whole book and foundational ideas to which we return repeatedly. A (Brief) Guide to Talking Effectively with Colleagues (which appears in full in the Appendix) sets you up to talk with others as you read. Then, seven chapters walk through key aspects of schooltalking for equity. A Conclusion sets you up for ongoing equity effort. I cite resources along the way that I hope you’ll pursue. They appear as endnotes so they don’t distract you while you read.

To promote ongoing reflection and application, you’ll see THINK/DISCUSS questions peppered throughout each chapter. I’ve placed THINK/DISCUSS questions that are best tackled after reading at the back of every chapter (More schooltalk scenarios). Even if you don’t engage in all of those discussions, I hope you’ll read all the THINK/DISCUSS questions and select the ones that resonate most for your work.

Right as each chapter ends, Action Assignments invite you to engage and share key schooltalk issues with others and to share examples of schooltalking for equity. This book quotes many researchers and educators, plus students and parents; Action Assignments will ask you to tap more youth and adult voices. I hope to continue the dialogue online using the hashtag #schooltalking. Together, let’s redesign schooltalk with equity in mind.

Introduction

Schooltalk seeks to support you to redesign the most basic thing people do in education: talk about young people and with them.

With all the work we need to do in education, why focus a whole book on designing new schooltalk?

Because everybody talks;

And because communication is action: talk about (and with) young people shapes their lives.

Schools are where we shape the next generation and through them, the world.

And the most basic thing we do all day in schools is talk.

Equity work—active effort to develop the full human talents of every young person, and all groups of young people—starts with our words.

We talk about a million things in schools as we educate young people. We talk about math and science and literature and social studies; we discuss the nation and the world.

In this book, we’re redesigning the most foundational form of schooltalk: talk about young people themselves. That’s because such schooltalk causes some of our most fundamental problems for young people.

All school pathways for students are shaped by basic communications about students.

Sometimes, single communications change our paths.

THINK / DISCUSS

Did anyone ever say anything about you in school that particularly supported your school success, or slowed you down? Try to remember one story.

I always loved to write. I remember one librarian telling me that a little book I wrote in kindergarten was so good she was going to put a copy in the library. (Then she actually did it.) She was the first person to call me an author. And I remember my dad telling me that one day maybe I’d become a writer. His expressed confidence in me shaped my identity—as did the opportunities teachers then gave me to develop my writing skills.

I also remember that once in grad school, a professor told me that I probably shouldn’t become a writer. I still hear his voice in my head along with the others’, making me doubt my abilities.

I know countless people who remember comments in school classrooms or offices that either fostered or threatened their own potential. For example, a high school counselor told my colleague Danielaa that as a Latina, she just shouldn’t try to make it to a top university. Daniela remembered that uninformed comment for the rest of her life. The same type of comment from counselors deflated many of her Latino peers—who didn’t hear much from counselors about how to get to college, either.

Daniela actually defied that counselor’s prediction and went to Berkeley, then Stanford, to become a professor of education who studies how to support Latino students through college. After Daniela got her PhD, she went back to that counselor to make sure he never talked down the potential of another young person.

Whenever I tell that story, listeners have something similar to share.

THINK / DISCUSS

Have you ever explicitly challenged a common comment about young people as harmful to young people? What was the comment, and how did you challenge it? Did your strategy work?

Can you think of a common comment that you did not challenge, even though it bothered you? Why didn’t you?

Millions of common things we say about and then to young people can shape students’ fates in schools. Consider each of these examples:

A teacher or peer calls a student’s community ghetto. How might this shape young people’s sense of themselves, their classmates, and their school?

A counselor calls the student body not college material in a faculty meeting about whether to offer more AP sections. How might the comment affect the group’s thinking?

A teacher’s aide or specialist describes students in the car ride to school with words like Special Ed kids or losers, or, conversely, describes a few students as unusually gifted or smart. How might he or she treat each of these students in class?

Administrators explain a chart of achievement outcomes, broken down by race, language group, gender, or disability, in a faculty meeting as they make decisions about hiring additional support staff. What happens to the analysis of student needs when someone says summarily that one group of kids just doesn’t want to learn?

In a college or graduate school classroom, future teachers try to discuss why some students drop out of school and end up in prison. What happens to planning for student support when someone says that it must be because these students’ parents don’t care about education enough?

Each communication is an action with serious equity implications. As we’ll see throughout this book, the things people say about students in schools shape how adults think about and treat students, how students feel about themselves and their peers, and who offers students which opportunities and assistance. Words lead to treatment and to self-concepts, to expectations internalized by adults and students, and to the distribution of material resources by adults. Who gets which dollars, teachers, daily supports, and opportunities to learn—schooltalk is involved in all of this. Schooltalk about history, current events, and policy similarly shapes how opportunities get to young people, by shaping who we think deserves opportunities and who we hold responsible for providing which opportunities to whom. Even schooltalk far away from schools matters. Think of the consequences if a politician talking about schools in the inner city frames young people as totally uninterested in reading, then floats a school funding bill.

Schooltalking isn’t the only action we can shape for equity in education. It’s just a foundation of equity work—where it begins. And it’s a realm of equity action available all day, every day. Redesigning schooltalk just requires reshaping what we already do.

As an educator friend of mine put it after reading this introduction,

How I talk about students and the messages I convey to them or to others will influence the decisions we make about how we instruct and support students.

What folks say about young people has consequences for them. But schooltalk has another common problem: what we fail to say.

In and around schools, we routinely fail to share necessary and accurate information about who young people are, what they can do, what they need, and how they are doing. These failures to communicate have consequences for students too; they regularly keep adults from understanding young people and offering them sufficient supports.

As a new teacher I had a tenth-grade student, Jake, who had trouble reading aloud and acted silly a lot. I learned late in the year that he got special supports in another class for a learning need nobody had ever talked to me about. I knew from a teaching partner that Jake’s mom worked late and that he stayed up anxiously waiting for her, but Jake and I never talked about this and I never met his mom. Jake made me laugh and drove me crazy. I never really got to know him, and I didn’t support him successfully as a reader, either.

And one day two years later, Jake almost didn’t graduate because school staff had told him inaccurate information about the credits he needed for graduation. I found him sitting dejected on the school steps on graduation morning. He had just heard he wasn’t graduating after all. We went to the office and had an accurate discussion of his credits with school administrators, clarifying that he had completed every credit adults had told him he needed. The counselors adjusted his transcript. Jake graduated.

Those eleventh-hour communications changed Jake’s life. I’m glad I was there that day.

But I could have helped Jake far more if I and others had talked earlier about specific things he was experiencing and specific ways of supporting him in school.

THINK / DISCUSS

Have you ever seen a young person harmed because people failed to share some piece of necessary information about him or her?

Have you ever insisted that others add a crucial piece of information to a discussion about a young person or group of young people you know? Have you ever hesitated to do so? Why, and what happened?

Just like the things we say about young people in schools, the schooltalk we don’t hear is predictable and patterned too. In schools across the country, many educators know too little about students’ experiences, skills, and needs. Every year, many students vanish from the graduation stage without adults really knowing why.

In fact, school communities are full of structural cracks in communications—gaps in necessary schooltalk that keep many students from being better known and better served.

Consider a student, Paula, who’s experiencing these common gaps:

Paula’s teachers and administrators rarely hear straight from students or families about issues in the local neighborhood and instead proceed based on assumptions, because they didn’t grow up there.

People in Paula’s school and community never consider ways to improve school disciplinary policies that are particularly harsh for boys and girls of color, because people don’t ever review who is being disciplined and why.

Paula doesn’t hear from her counselor about signing up for the SAT, because Paula’s counselor has six hundred other students to attend to whose parents haven’t been to college either.

Paula doesn’t tell the teacher about a family issue that affects her attendance, because teachers in her school rarely take time to build personalized relationships with their students.

Teachers and other school staff rarely ask Paula what she enjoys learning or is good at, either.

Paula’s teachers rarely discuss how they could support Paula and her peers in rigorous math, because adults rarely take sufficient time to discuss student progress with students or each other.

The people running youth programs in Paula’s community have no idea how Paula or her peers are doing in school—and school adults have no idea what Paula and her peers do in community programs or at home.

An administrator emails home a handout in English about a workshop on college financial aid, but Paula’s parent/guardian primarily speaks Spanish and doesn’t have consistent Internet.

In a local discussion on graduation rates at Paula’s school, nobody talks about which opportunities to learn Paula’s school actually offers and doesn’t.

Each of these common gaps in necessary schooltalk has consequences. Across the country, educators don’t know important facts about young people’s neighborhoods or communities, know why specific students are absent, or discuss why they are suspended; adults don’t review key details about students’ progress or can’t find such information when they need it. Too few adults ask students what they experience inside or outside of school or what they can do; people fail to discuss crucial opportunity information with each other or with parents or students themselves. And so, we don’t figure out together how to get young people essential opportunities and supports.

You get the point—we can derail young people significantly when our schooltalk harms them, or when we fail to say things that can help them.

But when we take charge of schooltalk as a foundational action for equity, we can change the game.

This book seeks to support you to design new ways to talk about and with young people in schools, so that everything we say helps to develop the full human potential of all young people rather than limiting what young people can do.

Position yourself from here forward as an equity designer—as someone who asks, daily, which actions and situations need to be improved so all young people get the opportunities and supports they need and deserve. For this book’s purposes, we’re focused on redesigning how people talk about students and with them. As equity designers, we’ll return throughout the book to the following three elements.

1.The Equity Line of Schooltalk

Equity efforts in education provide supports to give every young person and all groups of young people a full chance to develop their vast human talents.

Equity efforts treat all young people as equally and infinitely valuable. And so, they seek to remedy any situation where opportunities for some are insufficient or expectations low, particularly when young people have long been underserved by schools.

With this book, I hope to get you in the habit of asking this foundational question about every example of schooltalk you encounter:

Does this communication help support equity (the full human talent development of every student, and all groups of students)? Or not?

The Equity Line helps us evaluate which actions and situations offer students sufficient opportunities and supports, and which don’t. I’ve used the line to prompt discussion of the pros and cons for young people of countless everyday actions and situations.¹ The Equity Line appears throughout this book as a reminder to evaluate the consequences for young people of everything folks say about and to young people—in schools and in society at large.

2.The Foundational Principles of Schooltalking for Equity

Each chapter of this book will begin with a specific principle and chapter goal for designing schooltalk to pursue equity. But I’ll often refer back to the following Foundational Principles of Schooltalking for Equity.

Equity-oriented schooltalk about young people urgently does the following:

Conveys belief in all young people’s equal human value and potential, and care and respect for their development and well-being;

Describes young people more accurately as individuals and members of communities, including their experiences with others in opportunity contexts;

Pinpoints and collectively addresses students’ needs precisely, not vaguely, and regularly and rapidly, not rarely;

Shares opportunities to learn (and to meet needs) widely, not just with some.

Sound obvious? You may be surprised at how much schooltalk fails to do this.

Finally, let’s consider who this book is about and for.

3.The Foundational Image of Schooltalk: A sample of the people who help shape a young person’s fate in school every day

Our Foundational Image (see next page) represents some of the key people who shape any young person’s fate each day through their everyday actions—one of which is schooltalk. In addition to school district people, an outer ring of people (not shown) whose acts shape young people’s lives would include politicians, journalists, and other media makers, community leaders, industry and university people, and everyone observing schools. If you’re one of those people, read on. Your schooltalk matters tremendously, too, because it shapes public conversations, policies, and resource decisions.

In this book, I ask you to think like an educator—like one of the people in our Foundational Image—in order to really get concrete about communications’ everyday implications for young people. Throughout this book, we’ll consider the consequences of what the powerful people in our Foundational Image say and do not say, even as we treat their schooltalk as shaped by a shared society.

Indeed, this book is for anyone interested in improving young people’s lives. You may be a veteran educator or a beginner; you may not work in a school at all. If you’re a student or a parent yourself, or if you serve on the school board, make media, or just discuss education at the dinner table, your talk also shapes how young people are seen, treated, and offered opportunities. If you work in higher education or a child- or youth-serving program, everything here can be translated to your setting as well. This book seeks to support you to support young people in whatever work you do each day. We’ll do so by asking you to think like an educator about everyday schooltalk and its implications.

A friend described the potential Schooltalk reader to me:

Teachers haven’t had this level of introspection on how critical their talk is. But this allows the superintendent, parents, the secretary, everyone to join the work. It brings a level of ownership to equity work that nobody can disavow. We all talk.

The Foundational Image

Let’s just imagine that the young person at the center of that image is a young person you care about a lot. You dream of his or her contributions to our society.

What do you want these people saying about and to him or her? What do you not want them saying?

You’ll see that this isn’t about being politically correct or trying to just be nice to kids. And it’s not about adding some extra work to our already overcrowded lives. This is about rethinking—and then redesigning—the most foundational ways our daily words support young people or don’t.

Designing schooltalk for equity

Generations of thinkers you’ll encounter in Schooltalk have shaped this book’s lofty definition of equity effort. Equity efforts in education refuse insufficient opportunity or low expectations for any young person or group of young people. Instead, equity efforts actively arrange and provide supports to give every young person and all groups of young people a full chance to develop their vast human talents.

A few key quotes start to explain what I mean.

In 1897 John Dewey called for developing the full human power of each young person through education:

To prepare [a student] for the future life means to give him command of himself; it means so to train him that he will have the full and ready use of all his capacities.²

—John Dewey

And in 1865, just after the Civil War, black community members in Charleston, South Carolina, came together in an overflowing convention to call for basic human rights, equity, and justice. In defiance of Black Codes again restricting their human freedoms, they called for schools and fair trials; they claimed the right to assemble peacefully to discuss politics, to pursue all avenues of trade, commerce, agriculture, and to amass wealth by thrift and industry. And as historian Vincent Harding notes, To all this they added a summary human right not normally found in the public documents of the nation:

The right to develop our whole being, by all the appliances that belong to civilized society.³

—Vincent Harding

Those two definitions of education’s purpose combine in our definition of equity. I hear them as demanding active effort by individuals and institutions to arrange necessary supports and opportunities so each person and all communities of people get a true chance to develop their full human capacities and potential contributions.

That makes the people in our Foundational Image tremendously important, because they have the chance to help support young people’s full human talent development every day. Children don’t develop their capacity alone; it takes a network to raise a child!

The concept of full human talent development in our definition of equity effort is clunky, but it’s there for several reasons. First, as we’ll see, people in the United States have too often suggested falsely that some types of young people innately have more value, potential, intelligence, capacity, or talent than others, or are worth more investment. Equity work counteracts that programming by insisting that all humans have vast potential and are equally valuable. Equity effort thus insists that necessary opportunities and resources reach all.

Our definition of equity effort also invites a wide variety of efforts to pursue and secure necessary opportunities for young people. Many efforts to develop the human talents of young people via schools primarily seek to ensure that all young people have access to intellectually challenging learning.⁴ Some focus first on ensuring all children have access to a well-trained teacher or rigorous coursework. Some insist first that all young people get foundational opportunities to learn to write, read, and calculate, in preparation for college and fulfilling careers. Some equity efforts insist first that more young people get the chance to analyze and then improve their communities, the nation, or the world. Still others insist first that more young people get the chance to express their views, feel valued and skilled, and be treated with dignity, on developing more young people artistically, or empowering them with history. Bud Mehan, who devoted much of his career to the idea of college for all, told me that We have equity in society when every young person has the same opportunity to influence the course of democracy.⁵ Put together, equity efforts seek to help develop each young person and all young people, in every community, to contribute their full human power to the world.

Finally, equity effort seeks to secure needed supports, opportunities, and resources for individuals and groups of students who typically haven’t received what they need from schools. Blankstein and Noguera call equity effort a commitment to ensure that every student receives what he or she needs to succeed.⁶ As Paul Gorski put it, Equity is a fair distribution of opportunity and access leading to the possibility for all students to reach their full potential. My colleague Makeba Jones calls equity effort the flexible use of resources to tailor supports to kids. Equity effort seeks to get individuals from all groups necessary opportunities and resources, whether race/ethnic groups or income groups, boys or girls, students with or without labeled disabilities, English speakers or English learners, U.S.-born or immigrant students, religious groups, and more. In this book, because of my own history of work, we’ll tend to focus on remedying situations that limit opportunities along race or income-based lines, and extend to other group experiences as intersecting examples.

The notion that every child in every community is worth such investment undergirds the lofty definition of equity we use in this book. Young people are the ultimate collective resource; educators are particularly powerful resource developers; society suffers if only some young people are sufficiently supported in schools. Because schools are where we shape the society we live in, equity effort to help develop all young people’s human talents via schools isn’t charity for kids, which is often the connotation of the word equity in education. Equity is the collective development of kids—of the people who will be in the driver’s seat when we all get old.

Our bar for equity effort is high because children deserve it to be high—and because the world needs it to be high. Karolyn Tyson applies a parent’s urgency to equity effort in education:

If that child were yours, what would you want her school experience to be?⁷

Of course, parents often anxiously hoard school opportunities for their children alone, fearing that more opportunities for more children mean fewer opportunities for their own. But increasing opportunity for young people doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game. Research shows that efforts to support and challenge more students in schools can make schools more interesting and rigorous for everyone.⁸ Parents also experience how the success of more young people in a community can buoy the success of other young people. If other kids stay healthier, my child stays healthier. If the other children in my child’s class love reading, he might end up inspired to read with them. As a parent in a diverse city or region, I want my child to be surrounded by skilled, employed, and healthy people from all corners of that city and region, doing interesting, challenging things that my child can learn from. As a parent who wants a functioning planet for my child to live on as an adult, I actually want lots of kids to help cure diseases and figure out how to halt global warming. I want my own kids doing great things, and I want my kids to benefit from other people equipped to fix collective problems. Martin Luther King Jr. articulated such collective interest beautifully in his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail: We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.⁹

Thinking of equity in this common-interest way focuses equity efforts on making more opportunities for more young people whenever we can, not just fighting over the limited opportunities seemingly available.¹⁰ Equity effort actually refuses to accept opportunity as limited to some.

A college student in one of my courses put it this way:

I had not previously thought of education in that way . . . that we are not trying to help students learn and develop out of an abstract sense that we ‘should,’ but rather because it will benefit society as a whole to have students reach their full potential.

Another described the goal of equity effort as unlocking the human potential of an individual to then share him with the world.

Students at Gompers Preparatory Academy in San Diego state this idea of collective interest out loud each fall as they head toward the goal of 100 percent graduation and college enrollment to benefit the entire community. We are a family, they repeat. No one will be left behind.

Apply that phrase to all of education and you have equity effort in a nutshell.

Unfortunately, though, schools typically leave a lot of kids behind. Schools typically don’t sufficiently develop the full human talents of each young person and all groups of young people—or even seek to do so.

Indeed, every day, even without meaning to, we accept insufficient opportunities for millions of young people and reproduce low expectations for them in schools, as we simply talk about students and with them!

This is where you come in as an equity designer.

Look back at our Foundational Image and think about just one child you know. What do you want these people saying about and to the young person in the middle? What do you not want them saying?

You might be thinking that to help develop young people’s full human talents, you most want the folks in our Foundational Image talking effectively inside classrooms about math or science, social studies or literacy. Supporting more students of all ages to talk deeply about rigorous content is critical to many contemporary school reforms.¹¹ Shaping such talk about content in a multilingual nation is another huge subject requiring its own book-length focus.¹² That’s crucial schooltalk—and perhaps the subject of my next book.

Schooltalk necessarily lays the equity foundation first.

In this book, I suggest that it matters fundamentally how people talk about students themselves—about who students are, what their lives are like, what they can do, what opportunities and supports they need, and who might support them in specific ways.

I’m committed to supporting you to design such schooltalk for equity because I’ve spent two decades learning how with every word adults utter (or fail to utter) about students in schools, we either help support young people or we don’t.

Where I’m coming from: The experiences and commitments behind Schooltalk

I started thinking about schooltalk’s foundational role in equity effort in my early twenties, as I saw colleagues struggle to use and not use words like black, white, Latino, Filipino, Samoan, or Chinese when discussing curriculum, discipline, student-teacher relationships, attendance, and achievement in the California high school where I taught tenth and eleventh graders. I saw people fail to provide students necessary supports when they failed to talk about supporting students better. And I started to understand that every word we say, or don’t say, about young people in schools has consequences for how young people are treated.¹³

After graduate school I worked in the Office for Civil Rights of the U.S. Department of Education, investigating complaints filed by parents and educators arguing that students had been denied opportunity in schools along lines of race, gender, national origin, or disability. I saw teachers, administrators, parents, community members, and lawyers get stalled in unproductive, dead-end arguments as they tried to debate students’ experiences and needs. And again, I wondered how people might discuss student supports more productively.¹⁴

In my first decade as a professor of education, I noticed how educators in my classes struggled to talk about supporting young people from various groups. I saw how common schooltalk—even in academia—often exacerbates misinformation about young people. And in producing and teaching the book Everyday Antiracism with colleagues,¹⁵ I also began to frame educators as powerful equity designers who can redesign each everyday action—including schooltalk—for student success.

In a large community project in Somerville, Massachusetts, called the OneVille Project (wiki.oneville.org), I then collaborated with teachers, students, administrators, and community partners to redesign the infrastructure shaping everyday communications in schools.¹⁶ I worked with teachers to test whether texting might help teachers support students on the brink of quitting school. I watched teachers and students design online portfolios that let students describe a broad range of their own skills and talents. I worked with administrators, teachers, and staff to shape data displays to support more informed conversations about students’ progress. I worked with parents and staff to design new mechanisms for translation and interpretation so parents could discuss opportunities across barriers of language. And overall, I started thinking about the channels through which communications travel—about the blend of technology-based, paper-based, and face-to-face talk that might support folks to communicate in support of young people in schools.

Back in California again, supporting teachers and students with my committed colleagues at UC San Diego’s Center for Research on Educational Equity, Assessment, and Teaching Excellence (CREATE), I started working with educators and university staff to design new forms of schooltalk for equity. I learned from teachers who’d created advisory classes to communicate about college with every student every week. I met administrators innovating with Google Docs for communicating about students’ missing assignments, and college outreach workers trying new ways of getting information to parents. I supported educators to test whether simple video tools could help English learners communicate their ideas to teachers, and to explore the face-to-face dialogue needed to support young people taking online courses.¹⁷ My colleagues started designing a database enabling regional conversations about students’ pathways to and through college. We launched a campus-wide conversation about leveraging university resources to create new learning opportunities for local young people. And I started to learn from colleagues about the schooltalk needed for rigorous instruction in math, science, literacy, and writing (http://create.ucsd.edu).

So at this point, I’ve worked on understanding and improving schooltalk as a teacher (Colormute, 2004), as a civil rights worker (Because of Race, 2008), as a professor inside two universities (e.g., teaching Everyday Antiracism, 2008), as an action researcher partnering with educators, community groups, students, and families (wiki.oneville.org), as a university center director (create.ucsd.edu), and as a parent in the two diverse communities where I’ve sent my kids to school. I’ve thought about communications that happen face-to-face, on paper, and via technology. And everyone I met in this work taught me something important. This book draws from literally thousands of people’s ideas on improving everyday schooltalk with equity in mind.¹⁸

Thinking through these twenty years of work to understand and improve schooltalk in diverse schools, districts, cities, community organizations, universities, and the government, I’ve synthesized the Foundational Schooltalking Principles shared on page 8. I want to end by emphasizing the second Principle—this book’s call for more accurate and informed talk about young people as foundational to equity effort. That’s because I think it’s potentially key to the others.

Caring about and believing in young people is obviously fundamental to student success. Increasing opportunity to learn is core to equity effort in education. So is precise and regular attention to students’ needs.

But I’ve seen people move on each dimension when they were more informed—when they better understood not only fundamental facts about young people everywhere but also more about who specific young people really were, what they could do, and what they were really dealing with in specific opportunity contexts. When we understand young people better, we not only support them more effectively. We also value them more, perhaps the key to equity effort.

Young people today are demanding to be discussed more accurately and to be more fully known. That’s because young people sense that what people know and say about youth matters to how youth are treated, inside and outside of schools.

In summer 2014, hundreds of young people contributed to a Tumblr site to call for more informed descriptions of young people, black youth in particular (http://iftheygunnedmedown.tumblr.com). After a policeman had shot unarmed Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, media and others had circulated photos of Brown that portrayed him as a thug implicitly deserving his fate. By posting two photos each of themselves on Tumblr, young people demanded more informed, accurate, and compassionate portrayals of youth. One photo in each pair was a photo or exaggerated selfie of the young person acting tough or partying. These were the photos the submitters thought the media would likely choose to memorialize them negatively if police gunned me down. But these young people argued that more informed portraits of them would include the other photos they posted, in which they beamed from graduation gowns, hugged relatives, or just looked happily at the camera. In this self-portrait exercise, students called for more accurate description, here communicated with images as well as words. They called for a more fully informed conversation about who they actually were.

THINK / DISCUSS

Can you imagine candid or staged photos you’ve taken of yourself that, if shared publicly as you, would distort who you actually are? What other pictures would you want added to your portrait to describe you more accurately?

Have you ever felt misdescribed by words used by someone who didn’t really know you? Think of an example and your reaction to it.

Here’s another image made by a student of mine at UC San Diego, demonstrating just a few pieces of information she’d want added to any typical conversation about her as a Latina student. In reaction to a quote from an earlier draft of Schooltalk, she decided that the single message Get to Know Me was her top schooltalking strategy. She sensed that more accurate information communicated by her, and then about her, could get people to understand her better, believe in her more, and respond to her actual needs:

Hang on to her call to Get to Know Me. Throughout this book, we’ll seek to describe young people and their experiences in opportunity contexts more accurately, as a foundation of equity work in education. If we can’t see young people clearly—or the contexts around them that shape their lives—why would we fully believe in them, or offer them opportunities that develop their human talents and meet their needs? As Solórzano and Yosso note, a quote from Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man applies to far too many young people in our schools: I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.¹⁹

The organization of this book

We’ll begin with A (Brief) Guide to Talking Effectively with Colleagues, designed to support you in dialogue as you read this book (the full guide appears in the Appendix). In the first half of the book (Flipping Scripts), we’ll then design ways to counteract classic underinformed claims about young people with more-informed claims, leveraging foundational information every U.S. resident and certainly every educator should know. Often, we’ll see, flipping scripts just requires talking more accurately about the people, interactions, and factors that shape young people’s lives and our own.

In the book’s second half (Designing Schooltalk Infrastructure), we’ll design ways that the folks in our Foundational Image can learn and share more accurate information about supporting the specific young people they serve. Often, we’ll learn to listen to young people themselves.

Part 1: Flipping scripts: Countering fundamental misinformation about young people

In our schooltalk, all of us sometimes repeat common, habitual comments about young people or their communities that are fundamentally inaccurate and underinformed. Such scripts are the simplifying, familiar claims we reach for when we talk about young people and about education. Much of the time, these scripts have a shallow grasp on facts about young people’s lives and instead adhere to premade ideas about young people. Dangerously, scripts misrepresenting young people in general can keep adults from fully supporting actual young people—and keep young people believing falsehoods about themselves and their peers.

So we have to correct education’s most basic misinformation about young people.

In the first four chapters of Schooltalk, we’ll pursue this overall goal for redesigning schooltalk:

Part 1 goal: Flip the scripts. Counter fundamental misinformation about young people with more fact-based talk.

We’ll learn essential information needed to correct some fundamental misunderstandings about young people that plague U.S. schooltalk and block opportunities from getting to students. We’ll get in the habit of questioning the classic labels we use for students (Chapter 1: Group Talk), the ways we sum up their opportunities and outcomes (Chapter 2: Inequality Talk), how we frame their abilities (Chapter 3: Smarts Talk), and the claims we make about their communities (Chapter 4: Culture Talk). These four chapters will mark four key domains of schooltalk needing our close attention.

And in each chapter, we’ll gain tools for strengthening schooltalk’s fact foundation—for replacing classically underinformed claims about young people anywhere with more informed, accurate statements about young people and the contexts that shape them.

By the end of Part 1, we’ll have flipped so many underinformed scripts about young people in general that we’ll have one overall aim in mind: to learn more about supporting specific young people in specific places.

In Part 2, we’ll design ways for education communities to do that.

Part 2: Designing schooltalk infrastructure: Enabling routinely informed schooltalk that supports young people

Look at our Foundational Image again (page 10) and think of a young person in an education community you know.

To help support equity—the full human talent development of every student and all groups of students—in that education community,

Who in this school/classroom/community needs to communicate what information to whom? (How often? When?)

What are the barriers to needed communication, and how could those barriers be overcome?

What channel (face-to-face conversation, paper, technology) might allow necessary communications to occur?

Imagine turning one of the dotted lines between speakers in the Foundational Image into a stable pipe that allows people to regularly discuss some issue of student support that needs to be