In 2017, when Buffalo, NY, school board member (and Donald Trump ally) Carl Paladino said he wished Michelle Obama had died of mad cow disease, he was removed from his post. More recently, when a Georgia superintendent used the n-word in front of school staff, he was sued and had to resign. These were white school leaders in communities populated mostly with “minority-majority” students, as most public schools now are.
But what happens when a leader of a predominately white school district says such racist things?
Consider former Onalaska, Texas school district superintendent Lynn Redden’s racist Facebook comment about Houston Texans quarterback DeShaun Watson. When Redden argued that black quarterbacks in the NFL have “had limited success,” he was not only stating a falsehood; he was reinforcing a racist presupposition of black intelligence. The fact that Redden was also the civil rights coordinator for race, color, and national origin in the district compounded the outrage.
Fortunately, Redden was forced out of the school district, but to what extent did his comfort publicly stating such a thing have to do with the fact the Onalaska district’s student population is 87 percent white and only 1 percent black? Among the district’s teaching staff, 92 percent are white. The municipality of Onalaska is 88 percent white and only 9 percent black.
If the student population of Onalaska had resembled the racial diversity of most other districts, Redden’s attitudes may have been more obviously problematic, but his attitudes were harmful to the white students of his district as well.
Although the teacher population is representative of the student population, it matters greatly when a district is without a diversity of voices, like Onalaska’s is. There is evidence that suggests that teachers of color can help disrupt what are often one-sided portrayals of the world and offer invaluable insight to students from different backgrounds. A 2016 study showed that students of all races—white, black, Latinx, and Asian—have more positive perceptions of their black and Latinx teachers than they do of their white teachers.
A 2016 study showed that students of all races—white, black, Latinx, and Asian—have more positive perceptions of their black and Latinx teachers than they do of their white teachers.
Superintendents are also the instructional leaders of their districts. They are responsible for the academic and social development of students. School leaders have the power to shape the culture of a school or district, and in a district like Onalaska, a superintendent has the opportunity to address what Robin DiAngelo calls racial illiteracy.
Racial illiteracy is due to a colorblind socialization of sorts where well-intentioned white parents advertently or inadvertently teach their children not to talk about skin color. Specifically, if a child brings it up, you must quickly correct and silence them and explain that mentioning someone’s skin color is rude, and even racist.
People like Redden have power. It isn’t just power to keep black people oppressed; it is also the power to keep white people racially illiterate. A superintendent has the power and influence to leverage racial literacy education for white students. It is hard enough to convince a non-racist white superintendent to engage in that work with teachers and students. With a racist superintendent, such work will never happen. A racist superintendent allows white people to remain racially illiterate, and everybody loses.
That has educational implications. For example, the Southern Poverty Law Center gave Texas low marks in how slavery was taught. A black parent called out a Texas textbook publisher for downplaying slavery. Texas guidelines for teaching American history are without mention of the KKK or Jim Crow.
Redden held a position of power; his privilege could allow him to find another one. His comment, and others like it, impede white students’ ability to see blacks as equals. That’s what racism does and will continue to do until we diversify leadership in our public schools.