Black teachers share their experiences with anti-Blackness in schools and discuss what they need for healing.
For Black Americans, education has always been an avenue toward liberation. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, enslaved Black Americans worked together and risked their lives to learn and teach reading and writing in their communities because they saw literacy as a pathway toward freedom (Givens, 2021; Williams, 2009). These communal education efforts continued through Reconstruction, when Black educators taught Black students in segregated schools under Jim Crow legislation (Duncan, 2020). Yet, after the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision legally desegregated schools, Black educators often were unable to secure positions in integrated schools (Heller, 2019). Schools retained white teachers at the expense of Black teachers, ultimately leading to widespread job loss among the Black teacher population (Irvine & Irvine, 2007).
Today, less than 7% of teachers in the K-12 professional workforce are Black (Ladson-Billings & Anderson, 2021; National Center for Education Statistics, 2020). Because Black educators are uniquely positioned to increase the sense of belonging of their Black and brown students, the low number of Black educators in U.S. schools has profound implications for the well-being of students (Griffin & Tackie, 2017). For example, Seth Gershenson and colleagues (2018) found that Black students who had at least one Black teacher were more likely to both graduate high school and enroll in college. In addition, many Black teachers are key agents in practicing anti-racist, liberatory pedagogy, which allows marginalized students to give voice to their experiences (Duncan, 2020).
Besides supporting their students’ well-being and academic success, Black teachers continually engage in work that pushes the boundaries of their professional responsibilities. For example, many Black male teachers are asked to play the role of disciplinarian, and Black teachers are relied upon by their white colleagues to build relationships with Black students and help them understand the hidden curriculum of “school-appropriate” behavior (Bristol & Mentor, 2018). At the same time, they also must participate in efforts to improve the cultural literacy and racial awareness of their colleagues (Griffin & Tackie, 2017). Given these unique demands and contributions, it is imperative to listen to Black teachers to understand the ways in which these educators can be supported to remain in the teaching profession.
A reckoning with anti-Blackness in schools
Amid growing concerns around teacher shortages broadly, Black teachers have expressed, and statistics have shown, that they are more likely than teachers from other racialized groups to leave the profession earlier than they intended (Walker, 2022). We wanted to know what it would take for these teachers to stay, so between January and May 2022, we interviewed 30 K-12 Black public school teachers in California’s Bay Area to learn about their experiences and their dreams for their students.
The teachers were most vocal about their need to be paid fairly for the amount of work they put in to be effective, especially given the higher burden of emotional work required of them compared to their white colleagues. Pay was particularly important for the teachers we interviewed because choosing to teach in the expensive Bay Area often meant sacrificing financial security. This cost issue is compounded for Black teachers because, as high school special education teacher Billy (all names are pseudonyms) put it, “We come from a community that has historically been denied the ability to access generational wealth.” The teachers also stated that they needed more opportunities to “replenish” themselves because burnout from racial battle fatigue (Pizarro & Kohli, 2020) made it difficult to be the best teachers they could be.
Several Black teachers we interviewed wanted to be recognized for their effective pedagogy instead of being treated as the solution for all their schools’ racial problems
Many of the Black teachers we spoke to faced anti-Blackness in their schools. This included being asked to do additional work because of their race, like serving on equity committees, aiding Black and brown students’ wellness, diversifying curricula, and running Black-centric events like Black History month and Martin Luther King Jr. Day. More distressing were their struggles with how their schools handled overt racism, including white students and teachers using the “n-word.” One teacher, who was the only Black teacher at her school, even had the word carved into her classroom door. Her school leaders dismissed the hate crime, and she chose to leave the school because she felt so unsafe and unsupported.
Who are you subbing for? Black teachers facing anti-Blackness
Several Black teachers we interviewed wanted to be recognized for their effective pedagogy instead of being treated as the solution for all their schools’ racial problems, simply because of their presence. KoKo said that in her new teacher-leadership role she is “literally a Band-Aid,” expected to handle the issues of racial inequity. As Michele asserted, her “district can be performative in the way that it caters to diversity.” Jay affirmed that administrators need to “bring in teachers because [they] actually care about them, because let’s be upfront here, diversity and Blackness has been the new trend.” The teachers don’t want to be a part of a trend; they want real action.
Some teachers struggled to be recognized as teachers in the first place. Most were the only Black teacher in their school (or one of a few) and were tired of being treated as if they are not real or appropriate teachers. Louise felt that non-Black parents and students questioned her ability as a Black woman teacher. Layla, a teacher for more than two decades, was often asked if she was a substitute teacher when walking through campus. Eae recalled that a teacher once complained that because he wore a lot of red, he looked like a “gang member.”
A system of failure: When students face anti-Blackness
Just as they did not want to experience anti-Blackness themselves, the Black teachers we interviewed did not want their students to experience it either. When asked about what they needed to stay in the profession, several teachers said that they wanted to see Black students thriving and their Blackness celebrated. Jay felt uncomfortable that, as a Black teacher, he was “part of the system of failure” for Black students, and he wished for more classroom support and resources, counseling, and programming that would foster Black student achievement. Miah supported these notions, arguing that when the onus falls on just Black teachers, it leads to Black teacher attrition. He stated that Black educators often feel “overwhelmed or responsible” for all the Black children in the school.
Some teachers felt frustrated that Black students were stigmatized by an “achievement gap,” which Louise said could be better characterized as an “investment gap.” She felt pain at seeing “the bar being lowered” for Black students. That painful experience was a common thread throughout our conversations with teachers. When discussing an 18-year-old Black student who tested on a 1st-grade reading level, Jordan described taking home the sadness about how the school system had failed the student. Michele discussed the trauma of witnessing these failures again and again:
Part of the struggle of working in a space like that is that as a Black person, your own trauma becomes triggered. You’re in a revolving door of trauma for little people [who] look like you. And that is a different weight that people who are from outside of that community and come into work could never understand, at least not from the perspective of Blackness.
In sum, a majority of Black educators wanted their schools and districts to invest more money and social-emotional resources in their Black students. Among the resources suggested were more college and career counseling opportunities for students, more Black-affirming programs, and more school counselors and therapists who are knowledgeable about Black students’ mental health and what they need for healing.
To this end, Black educators expressed a desire for concrete plans and commitments from their districts for helping Black students thrive. Black teachers wanted to feel like they are part of a system that makes a positive difference in the lives of Black and brown children, instead of one that afflicts harm. The teachers emphasized that the responsibility of supporting Black students should be on the entire district, not just Black educators. Spreading out the work within the whole district would give Black educators space to bring the joy back into teaching. Billy, for example, said that he wanted teachers to be able to focus on imagination, and several teachers said that they wanted to be able to spend more time on the creativity and love that made them enjoy being teachers.
Moving toward healing
The Black educators also discussed several hopes for the field of education that would enable them to begin healing from their anti-Black experiences.
A family feel: Black teacher affinity spaces
Many Black educators cited the importance of Black teacher affinity spaces. Participants described these spaces as powerful, healing gatherings, in which Black teachers could have the “time and space to talk and be in community” as they “come together and support each other.” In such spaces, they could reflect with other Black colleagues on their teaching experiences and struggles without worrying about white colleagues’ reactions. Specifically, Tessa noted that these spaces were places where Black educators feel “like we can just be ourselves.” Most of the Black teachers we interviewed expressed similar sentiments, pointing out that in many school spaces they had to hide parts of themselves, sometimes while hearing veiled anti-Black sentiments and sometimes by feeling pressured to conform to white norms and expectations.
Layla mentioned that affinity spaces are necessary because other spaces — both within and outside education — are not safe from anti-Black racism. For the teachers we spoke to, affinity spaces were seen as a buttress against the harms perpetuated in majority-white spaces. Affinity groups gave them an avenue to talk about their experiences with anti-Blackness within the school district. Rose discussed how having an opportunity to commune with fellow Black colleagues could help combat the loneliness and isolation she faced as one of three Black educators at her school. Educators also saw affinity spaces as places for learning and professional development because they and their colleagues could troubleshoot issues together, mentor one another, and build coalitions for improving schools.
Affinity spaces are necessary because other spaces — both within and outside education — are not safe from anti-Black racism.
Some educators saw the necessity of affinity spaces as an important reason for schools to increase the representation of Black educators in the workforce. Samantha, for example, pointed out, “if you can’t have an affinity space, then clearly you don’t have enough Black staff.” Indeed, numerous teachers cited not having enough fellow Black educators as a reason some Black educators were leaving the teaching profession. The Black teachers we interviewed did not want to teach in isolation — they wanted to be in solidarity with one another to help protect against the social and emotional burdens of navigating anti-Black racism in the education system. As Paul noted, “It’s the Black teachers around me that sustained me.”
We matter: Black-affirming pedagogies
The Black educators we interviewed highlighted the power of imaginative, creative, and Black-affirming curricula to bolster their sense of joy and belonging within the teaching profession. Many educators discussed the desire to prepare their students for life beyond the classroom, by, for example, teaching them financial literacy to escape cycles of generational poverty that have historically disproportionately impacted Black and brown communities. Many dreamed of opportunities to engage students in more robust and critical conversations about anti-Blackness, colonialism, and capitalist systems in the United States. Other educators mentioned wanting to teach students how to find their voices through lessons in civic engagement, critical discourse, and the legacy of resilience of Black and brown people.
Learning outside the classroom was one approach several mentioned for building relationships with their students while facilitating their growth in a variety of interests and skills. One educator, Tessa, noted that offering more nontraditional electives — such as public art, design thinking, and community responsibility courses — could help combat the elitist and classist culture of the educational system, which emphasizes becoming “lawyers and doctors’’ as the standard of success. Indeed, Bob highlighted that many students “don’t even know what’s out there” when it comes to career paths and life plans. Thus, educators saw it as important to have opportunities to enable their students to dream and imagine where their education could take them. Jules noted, “that’s what preparing students for the future is all about . . . being innovative and creative.”
Finally, the Black educators wanted to share the range of contributions that Black historians, artists, and scientists have made to the field of knowledge. Others dreamed of having more opportunities to incorporate Black cultural histories, such as folklore and storytelling, so that they and their students could bring their authentic selves to the classroom. Nita noted that she would enjoy opportunities to bring “ancestors” into the classroom space, allowing students to explore their familial and cultural histories in meaningful ways. Layla framed the importance of teaching Black-affirming curricula for Black students in this way: “It’s going to mean so much to those little Black girls and Black boys. And they matter. That’s all I can say. We matter, we matter, we matter.”
Time to reimagine
We are entering a pivotal moment regarding the future of our educational system during this post–George Floyd reckoning with anti-Blackness and the compounded racial inequities brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic. As our participants told us, current working conditions for Black educators are not sustainable. For Black educators to remain in the teaching profession, we need radically reimagined spaces, curricula, and institutional policies that support both our Black educators and Black students. We need Black-affirming spaces where teachers can heal, express their authentic selves, dream, and know their students will be OK. As Chimere stated:
That’s all Black teachers want. We want to smile in the sun, knowing that our babies are learning, they are loved, and they are getting taken care of. Grant us that. Grant us the sun.
References
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This article appears in the September 2022 issue of Kappan, Vol. 104, No. 1, pp. 18-21.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Jessica Lee Stovall
Jessica Lee Stovall is a former high school English teacher and a current doctoral candidate in Race, Inequality, and Language in Education at Stanford University’s Graduate School of Education, Stanford, CA.

Tara R. Sullivan
Tara R. Sullivan is a recent graduate of Stanford University’s School of Humanities and Sciences, earning her bachelor’s degree in psychology.

