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Chapter Title: Fostering Cultures of Achievement in Urban Schools: How to Work

toward the Abolition of the Schools-to-Prisons Pipeline


Chapter Author(s): Garrett Albert Duncan

Book Title: Challenging the Prison-Industrial Complex


Book Subtitle: Activism, Arts, and Educational Alternatives
Book Editor(s): Stephen John Hartnett
Published by: University of Illinois Press

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Chapter 8

Fostering Cultures of Achievement


in Urban Schools: How to Work toward the
Abolition of the Schools-to-Prisons Pipeline
Garrett Albert Duncan

In this chapter I highlight educational reform efforts that show tremendous


promise for abolishing the schools-to-prisons pipeline in the United States. I
illustrate how parents, teachers, and administrators foster cultures of achieve-
ment that promote academic excellence and civic engagement among under-
served urban students, thus offering them more promising futures. Such ac-
complishments are triply remarkable, for they counteract a generation’s worth
of disastrous zero-tolerance policies, they resist longstanding historical forces
that doom poor children to second-class educations, and they counteract the
legacies of racism that have turned our schools into race-making machines.
Before presenting a case study of such empowering urban school reform ef-
forts, I address the broader role of race-making institutions in the United
States; this examination is of paramount importance, for no analysis of the
schools-to-prisons pipeline is complete without examining the intertwined
histories of public schooling, labor, and the variegated legacies of racism in
North America. I should note as well that I believe that the schools-to-prisons
pipeline is largely the unintended result of contemporary educational policies
and practices, including those produced by people with good intentions. In-
deed, the race-making processes described herein, and the morally indefensible
social conduit that leads so many of our poor children to prison, is supported
not so much by active and conscious racism as by widespread societal indiffer-
ence to the race- and class-based disparities that persist in our public schools.
While unintended results and indifference have played large roles in shaping
the schools-to-prisons pipeline, the historical record also shows how the U.S.
federal government has repeatedly used its power over educational policies,
labor practices, and the political process to aid white elites and the white
middle class—such uneven and race-based efforts have, in effect, thwarted the

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struggles of people of color to enjoy the full benefits of American citizenship.
Each pivotal epoch over the course of U.S. history offered ample occasions for
redirecting our course toward achieving a more just and perfect union, yet the
record repeatedly shows that promises were customarily broken, opportunities
were readily squandered, and the episodic gains made by people of color were
typically short-lived. In this sense, the schools-to-prison pipeline amounts to
the culmination of centuries of unintended consequences, indifference, and
unequal federal action—it is the contemporary manifestation of racism and
among the most brutal examples of race-making in America.1
The idea that the actions of decent people with good intentions may result
in harmful outcomes in the schooling of historically marginalized student
populations is not a radical concept in the field of education. This notion
inheres in concepts such as “the hidden curriculum” and, more recently,
“collateral damage.” The hidden curriculum refers to how schools tacitly—
and even unintentionally—transmit to students the norms, values, and skill
sets that reproduce inequalities and racial prejudice in the larger society.
Collateral damage refers to the injurious effects—largely unintended—of
ill-conceived educational reform policies meant to hold schools accountable
for the education of their students and to eliminate social disparities in aca-
demic attainment. These theories suggests that in the realm of education,
as in society as a whole, race-making and racism are incredibly complicated
patterns with deep histories. W. E. B. DuBois alluded to these intricate pro-
cesses in 1968, when he paused to reflect on the meaning of his work during
the later stages of his life: “not simply knowledge, not simply direct repres-
sion of evil, will reform the world. In long . . . the actions of [women and]
men which are due not to a lack of knowledge nor to evil intent, must be
changed by influencing folkways, habits, customs, and subconscious deeds.”
Working to build cultures of achievement in our urban schools is one way to
contribute to the hard work of changing these race-based “folkways, habits,
customs, and subconscious deeds.” Indeed, I argue that shutting down the
schools-to-prisons pipeline stands as part of a new civil-rights movement, as
part of the long effort to end racism in the United States.2

Race-Making and the Legacies of Slavery


The “folkways, habits, customs, and subconscious deeds” noted by DuBois have
not always been a part of the nation’s moral fabric; rather, they emerged over
centuries while advancing certain social, economic, and political interests.

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But contrary to conventional wisdom, people of African descent have not al-
ways occupied a subordinate social position in American society. During the
colonial period, for instance, persons of African descent were viewed—as we
commonly view people of European descent—as a multiform population of
individuals from different geographic regions, religious traditions, cultural
norms, and linguistic and political histories. These early African Americans
established autonomous communities and often formed multiracial townships
where they engaged in interracial relations. Africans of diverse backgrounds
possessed enough autonomy during the early colonial period to establish
Wolof as their lingua franca in the New World. Further, many owned property
and were highly learned; by the Revolutionary period, such figures had es-
tablished enduring and influential institutions, such as the African Methodist
Episcopal Church and the Prince Hall Free Masons. Prior to the Revolution,
the masses of Americans of European and of African descent lived and worked
under similar circumstances, often oppressive, which created conditions for
multi-racial challenges to the elite class, such as Bacon’s Rebellion of 1676.
The white elite effectively undermined such alliances, though, by passing
laws, instituting economic policies, and disseminating cultural imagery and
narratives that forged a racial hierarchy and consigned black people to a uni-
form subordinate class. These processes worked to “make race” in the United
States and, moreover, to solidify the status of Americans of African descent
as a marked and dishonored group.3
Race-making therefore involves political, economic, and cultural processes
that sequester certain populations, label them, discipline them, and—prior
to the advent of the contemporary prison-industrial complex—extract their
labor. These processes “race” certain groups by marking them as inferior, ex-
pendable, and, increasingly, as appropriate targets of mass incarceration. We
cannot understand mass incarceration in contemporary U.S. society, then,
without addressing the legacies of chattel slavery, both as historical starting
points for race-making in America and as central components, perhaps even
the driving elements, of our current incarceration nation. Indeed, accord-
ing to Loïc Wacquant, the systems of southern plantation slavery, Jim Crow
segregation, post-Reconstruction urbanization, and contemporary imprison-
ment in the United States are linked by their historical and contemporary
race-making functions. As Waquant notes,

The highly particular conception of “race” that America has invented, virtually
unique in the world for its rigidity and consequentiality, is a direct outcome
of the momentous collision between slavery and democracy as modes of orga-

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nization of social life after bondage had been established as the major form
of labor conscription and control in an under-populated colony home to a
precapitalist system of production. The Jim Crow regime reworked the racial-
ized boundary between slave and free into a rigid caste separation between
“whites” and “Negros”—comprising all persons of known African ancestry, no
matter how minimal—that infected every crevice of the post-bellum social
system in the South. The ghetto, in turn, imprinted this dichotomy onto the
spatial makeup and institutional schemas of the industrial metropolis.4

The key step in understanding these race-making processes is realizing that


they do not merely reinforce existing color-coded social divisions; rather, they
work with other forms of power to build racialized divisions out of other de-
marcations of group power. For example, over the course of U.S. history, im-
migrants from Ireland and Italy have moved from being thought of as racial
outsiders to being considered “white”; Jews, too, have slipped in and out of
being “white” according to other political forces and cultural trends. Ever
since the late colonial and Revolutionary eras, however, Americans of African
descent have continuously been subjected to forms of oppression that were
justified by virtue of their association with the race-making institution of
slavery. In other words, by stigmatizing black populations with the institu-
tional brands of “slave” or “felon,” race-making institutions, such as planta-
tions and prisons, have provided a public rationale for why certain groups
are systematically denied the full rights of citizenship.5
In contemporary, post-civil-rights America, public schools also serve a
race-making function. They do so by defining what it means to be a citizen
and by constructing citizenship’s negative corollary: a racialized superfluous
population of urban—and sometimes suburban—students of color who are
perceived not only as living outside, but also as threatening, the social, eco-
nomic, and cultural mainstream. Rather than being a recent phenomenon,
however, schools have served race-making functions in American society ever
since the post-Reconstruction period. For instance, during the first several
decades of the twentieth century, race-making in schools was linked to pre-
paring black youth for what James Anderson has called “Negro jobs.” Accord-
ing to Anderson, from 1880 to 1930, the express objective of the architects
of the Southern public black high school system was “to meet the needs” of
black students by equipping them to “move from unskilled to skilled labor”
in preparation for “Negro jobs.” In practice, these schools met the needs of
black students by adjusting their expectations to align with their presumed
fixed economic station in society. Such racialized jobs, as Anderson explains,
were by default those jobs that remained only after full white employment

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was achieved. In short, the iron cage of slavery was being replaced with a
more flexible yet still racializing mode of social control, one where the brute
force of the plantation was replaced by the socializing power of schools.6
The post-civil-rights era refers to the period after the 1954 landmark Brown
v. Board of Education ruling that abolished legal segregation in public institu-
tions such as education, housing, and the workplace. Prior to Brown, school-
ing inequalities were explained as the predictable outcomes of hundreds of
years of segregation and discrimination; after the Brown decision, however,
institutional obstructions to opportunity were purportedly dismantled. So,
nowadays, society explains the social inequalities endured by communities
of color as their own fault; a generation of Americans proceeds as though
hundreds of years of chattel slavery and segregation were erased without
leaving a trace—according to this narrative, the Civil-Rights movement was
a triumph that forever leveled the playing field. Such ahistorical explana-
tions reinforce the view that black community struggles are not the product
of historical factors, including racial cleansing, sundown towns, and govern-
mental neglect, but of individual failings.7
Post-civil-rights-era schools are still in the race-making business of prepar-
ing students of color for “Negro jobs.” In a postindustrial society, however,
where jobs are scarce, such students are now shunted not toward low-paying
industrial or agricultural production but instead into the schools-to-prisons
pipeline. In contemporary America, the new “Negro job” is being a prisoner.
Nonetheless, post-civil-rights-era conventional wisdom on race and racism
entails such canards as the claims that we should engage in so-called color-
blind interpretations of social inequalities and that formal, legal measures
are adequate to building social justice. Such conventional wisdom is perhaps
the greatest obstacle to engaging in a constructive discussion about the
contemporary schools-to-prisons pipeline, even if this conduit is posited as
historical in origin and as an unintended effect of educational policy and
practice. But instead of engaging in this historically inflected conversation
about how the legacies of racism and institutionalized racism have led to the
prison-industrial complex, conventional wisdom holds that local community
norms and self-imposed factors (such as drug use, criminality, laziness, and
so on) are almost exclusively responsible for the academic underperformance
of students of color in public schools.
Contemporary educational inequalities, captured in the catchphrase “achieve-
ment gap,” are indeed evident in academic disparities between black and Latino
students and white and some Asian American students, where the latter groups

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outperform the former groups on various measures of academic attainment.
Black students, in particular, bear the brunt of these disparities. Two of the more
popular views of their circumstances hold that anti-intellectualism is prevalent
in black communities and that parents place little value on education, thus
accounting for why their children underachieve in schools. Another common
explanation is that black children have oppositional identities that lead them
to reject academic achievement on the grounds that it is tantamount to “acting
white.” Some scholars speculate that such anti-intellectual peer influence is
so severe that even high-performing black students who identify with educa-
tion eventually succumb to pressures from their black peers to underachieve,
or become so preoccupied with how others view them that their academic per-
formance suffers as a consequence. What unites these disparate explanations
is a failure to recognize that the “achievement gap” also reflects longstanding
political impediments within certain communities; that is, many contemporary
commentators explain the state of young black students in America’s schools
without addressing the legacies of slavery and racism.8
In contrast to such ahistorical and purportedly “color blind” scholarship,
a growing body of work argues that urban students in diverse, post-civil-
rights schools are being taught in environments characterized by the still
unaddressed damage of slavery. This perspective suggests that although the
civil-rights movement succeeded in desegregating black students from sup-
posedly “separate but equal” schools, hence finally supporting their civic and
political rights as guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment, the exercise
of such legal power—so-called first generation rights—can go only so far in
creating a culture that expects excellence for black students. This is because
forced desegregation does not guarantee integration, an idea that presup-
poses the exercise of equal social and cultural rights, or so-called second gen-
eration rights. While the federal government has mandated first generation
rights, it has, certainly since the Reagan administration, explicitly rejected
calls for upholding second generation rights. This means that black children
are legally equal to all others, yet in daily practice they are still subject to
second-rate schools and are met with second-rate expectations, even when
they are taught in affluent, integrated settings.9
A number of observers have noted how the emphasis on legal rights, even
though absolutely necessary in the struggle to end racism, has also moder-
ated the possible effects of the Brown decision and the ensuing civil-rights
agitation. For example, the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., expressed res-
ervations about the implementation of Brown-inspired social policies, espe-

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cially in light of the early failings of desegregation policy. King lamented
that black people were being integrated into American institutions without
power, and that intransigent notions about their inferior worth as human
beings sustained social inequalities even in the face of civil rights legisla-
tion. Making these remarks at a rabbinical conference just ten days before
he was assassinated, King decried everyday cultural representations that
associated “black” with “evil” and “bad,” such as in “devil’s food cake” and
“black lie,” and that associated white with “good” and “permissible,” such
as in “angel’s food cake” and “white lie.” “What is necessary now is to see
integration in political terms where there is a sharing of power,” King said.
“When we see integration in political terms, then we recognize that there
are times when we must see segregation as a temporary way-station to a
truly integrated society. There are many Negroes who feel this . . . [and] I
must honestly say that there are points at which I share this view. There
are points at which I see the necessity for temporary segregation in order
to get to the integrated society.” In contrast to the forever compromising
image to which America holds him captive, King thus concurred with the
view that posited self-separation, albeit temporarily, as a means to black
empowerment.10
Observing the differences between enforced legal rights and the lived ex-
perience of daily life, Vanessa Siddle Walker likewise offered that care was
the greatest casualty when black children desegregated previously all-white
schools, where they were subjected to teachers who were indifferent, if not
hostile, to their educational needs. Indeed, Vivian Gunn Morris and Curtis
Morris have studied how white teachers never viewed civil-rights-era black
students as being as capable as white students; some white teachers were so
deeply entrenched in racial stereotypes that when black students exceeded
their racially informed expectations, they referred to their students as “un-
usual Negroes.” The notion that achieving academic excellence was “unusual”
for “Negroes” reflects the fact that many white educators were aware that
segregated schools were offering second-class educations, but it also shows us
that these teachers tacitly lowered their expectations, and hence diminished
the self-worth of those students they regarded as “usual Negroes.” In short,
first generation rights enabled black children to enter the schoolhouse, but
without second generation rights, achieving political equality and academic
excellence would remain “unusual.”11
Timeworn, racially informed narratives continue to inform the ways contem-
porary schools sequester and brand certain students as superfluous populations

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that society invests more on incarcerating than it does on educating. More-
over, the 2001 No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB), arguably the greatest federal
intervention into schooling since 1954, has exacerbated rather than amelio-
rated the educational problems faced by children, especially urban youth of
color. Nonetheless, despite the legacies of slavery, the race-making processes
described here, and the implementation of NCLB, students, parents, teachers,
and administrators across North America have built cultures of achievement
that extend to historically underserved students the means to defy both history
and their entry into the schools-to-prisons pipeline. In the remaining pages of
this chapter, I honor their heroic efforts, for I believe they offer us visionary
yet practical means of disrupting the race-making function of public schools
and of inspiring those who hope to abolish the schools-to-prisons pipeline.12

Fostering Academic Achievement in


Post-Civil-Rights-Era Urban Schools
Despite widespread pessimism about the prospects of promoting high achieve-
ment among urban students of color, excellent schools for these students
have existed in the past, particularly in all-black settings, and they exist
today in diverse contexts. Students at these schools are academically engaged
and civic-minded and typically achieve scores on high-stakes standardized
tests that either meet or exceed those of their peers at more affluent subur-
ban schools. In short, these schools are high-achieving, with the academic
performance of urban students far exceeding the minimum standards of
effectiveness and adequacy. More important, these success stories provide
road maps for educators, researchers, and policymakers who hope to pro-
mote high achievement among urban students. Along these lines, Theresa
Perry argues in Young, Gifted, and Black that “African-American students
will achieve in school environments that have a leveling culture, a culture
of achievement that extends to all of its members a strong sense of group
membership, where the expectation that everyone achieves is explicit and
is regularly communicated in public and group settings. African-American
students will achieve in these environments, irrespective of class background,
the cultural responsiveness of the setting, or the prior level of preparation.”
For Perry, myself, and a new generation of educators, scholars, and activ-
ists, the point is clear: We must demand academic excellence for and from
our historically underserved student populations—excellence should not be
unusual, but expected.13

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To support this argument, I turn now to Jim Scheurich’s analysis of a se-
lect group of high-achieving public elementary schools in Texas, where the
schools’ core values and cultural characteristics enable poor children of color
to pursue excellence. In contrast to teaching driven by the high-stakes test-
ing that is found in schools across America—and that is mandated by the
NCLB—Scheurich offers insights into what has been proven to promote high
achievement among black students by studying what administrators, coun-
selors, teachers, and staff describe as the “goings on” in their schools. By
focusing on such daily “goings on,” the minutiae of daily exchanges that
build a school’s culture, Scheurich points to what the leaders of these schools
have come to call the Hi-PASS model of school reform, or high performance
all student success. As Scheurich explains, this model “did not come from
the reform literature or from the leadership or organizational literatures”;
rather, “those who developed the model were not self-consciously developing
a model; in their view, they were just developing schools that were success-
ful” for traditionally underserved working-class and poor students of color,
students whom they called “their children.” Hi-PASS, then, was not a top-
down mandate but a grassroots response and the product of deep caring and
hands-on teaching that resulted in the creation of an empowering culture of
achievement where all students excelled, regardless of their class, racial, or
linguistic heritage. In short, what helped these students achieve excellence
was not NCLB-enforced testing but caregiving driven by an intense respect
for the children’s potential.14
As expressed when teachers, students, staff, administrators, and parents de-
scribed their schools, the facilities included in Scheurich’s study are character-
ized by five core beliefs. First, administrators, teachers, and students at these
schools believe that all children can achieve at high academic levels—everyone
is expected to succeed. Second, they hold that academic work in these schools
must be focused on the needs of the child rather than on the demands of the
bureaucracy. Third, adults believe that all children must be treated with love,
appreciation, care, and respect. Fourth, they believe that the culture of the
child’s home, including their first language and religious beliefs, must always
be valued. And fifth, they hold the unflinching view that the school exists for
and serves the community. If the NCLB amounts to a federally driven mode of
punitive test-taking, and hence a virtual guarantee that more poor children of
color will be herded toward the prison-industrial complex, the five pedagogi-
cal and community values described here amount to a locally crafted mode of
care-giving, and hence as an invitation to academic success.

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Along with these five core beliefs, Scheurich describes seven interwoven,
mutually reinforcing features, or “shared meanings,” that characterize the
organizational structures of the schools he studied. The organizational struc-
tures are cultural characteristics that are readily observable by anyone upon
entering a school building. Such schools evince a strong, shared vision among
all community members and foster loving, caring environments for children
and adults. Teaching and learning occur in the schools Scheurich studied in
collaborative, familylike environments. Teachers in these schools are inno-
vative, experimental, and open to new ideas. In addition, the teachers are
hardworking but are not prone to burning out. Adult leaders at the schools
build appropriate codes of conduct into the schools’ organizational cultures
and communicate them effectively to their students. Finally, a sense of shared
responsibility, in which the school staff as a whole holds itself accountable for
the success of all children, is clearly evident at schools like these. Remark-
ably, even though the schools in Scheurich’s study had previous histories of
chronic underachievement, they were typically transformed in three to five
years under the leadership of newly assigned principals. The new principals
were student-centered leaders who guided the transformation of their schools
from low-performing to high-achieving educational centers while retaining
80 to 90 percent of the teachers and without changing the general socioeco-
nomic demographics of their student populations.
Schools like Scheurich’s uphold the first generation rights guaranteed to
all citizens under the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment,
yet they also go much further by supporting second generation rights, the
more expansive social, cultural, and economic rights affirmed by the Univer-
sal Declaration of Human Rights. According to Article 22 of this remarkable
document, “Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social secu-
rity and is entitled to realization, through national effort and international
co-operation and in accordance with the organization and resources of each
State, of the economic, social, and cultural rights indispensable for his dig-
nity and the free development of his personality.” The italicized portion of
the article coheres with some of the longstanding positions of the United
Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), which
advocates the centrality of culture in the education of diverse students in
multiracial societies. For instance, UNESCO argues that young children learn
best through the medium of their mother tongue. This view, shared by the
schools in Scheu­rich’s study, anchors various child-centered theories of learn-
ing, such as constructivism and culturally responsive instruction, as well as

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the pedagogies of the likes of W. E. B. DuBois, John Dewey, and Paulo Freire.
In contrast to these positions, studies show that when the cultural practices
of young learners, including their home language, are stigmatized and de-
meaned, then the students too will be disparaged and dishonored, almost as
a matter of custom in U.S. schools and classrooms.15
In contrast to schools that foster empowering cultures of achievement,
schools that sustain cultures of prejudice and suspicion often lack consen-
sus among the stakeholders on the long-term goals of and daily practices
in their schools. Further, even when teachers and administrators express
some semblance of agreement along these lines, their words often fail to
materialize in the form of actual practices that promote cultures of achieve-
ment. For example, a study that I led in an urban school in Missouri sug-
gested that the presence of core beliefs and cultural characteristics that
support high achievement among black students was limited to a handful
of classrooms and programs; such beliefs and characteristics were neither
systematically held by teachers nor widely supported by administrators. As
a result, pedagogical practices that would support a new culture of high
achievement among black students were unevenly distributed within the
school, all but guaranteeing that they would not be incorporated into the
school’s general culture.16
On the one hand, one-fifth of the teachers at the school in the study ac-
counted for about 90 percent of the positive, empowering pedagogical char-
acteristics that were recorded by the team of researchers—this means that
for every teacher explicitly working to close the schools-to-prisons pipeline,
four maintained the traditional pedagogical practices that have led us into
the current crisis. On the other hand, individual characteristics, such as
teacher innovation and openness to new ideas, greatly outnumbered social
characteristics, such as shared vision or collaboration. So, while a small group
of teachers (roughly 20 percent of the faculty) were responsible for creat-
ing pockets of excellence at the school, the larger social climate severely re-
stricted their ability to foster a new culture of achievement for all students.
Under these conditions, it came as no surprise to our research team when
the data we collected showed that black students at the school chronically
underperformed; in fact, shortly after we conducted our research, the school
was placed on probation for its academic underachievement. I want to be
clear that the educational harm done to the students at this school was not
the result of any apparent malicious intent or racism on the part of teach-
ers or administrators. My team and I did encounter incompetent and abusive

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teachers at the school, but they constituted a small minority of the staff
(and unfortunately could be found at most if not all public schools). The fact
that this school’s pedagogical environment pointed toward almost inevitable
failure for so many black students, even in the absence of intentional rac-
ism, and despite the best efforts of a small cohort of progressive teachers,
points to the sobering complexity of educational reform and suggests how the
schools-to-prisons pipeline continues to run its devastating course. In fact,
ample evidence suggests that many black and Latino children are shuffled
toward the schools-to-prisons pipeline as early as their pre-kindergarten and
elementary school years. As I demonstrate below, however, schools with com-
mitted leadership and a shared vision can indeed foster cultures of achieve-
ment in urban schools.17

Reconstructing the Pipeline:


From Incarceration to College
In contrast to the bleak news offered above, exciting pedagogical experiments
are flourishing across the United States, many of them with heartening results.
To explore one of these schools, I launched a study in an urban community
in America’s heartland that has taken a novel approach to constructing a new
pipeline, one that holds a promising future for all children, without regard to
their racial, ethnic, or class backgrounds. It would be misleading, though, to
suggest that the community effort that I describe in this section is the result of
a conscious attempt by educators and business and community leaders to stem
the flow of black and Latino youth into America’s jails and penitentiaries—this
will be a welcome result of their efforts, but it is not their explicit purpose. I
do not mean to suggest, however, that those responsible for the reforms are
not guided by noble intentions, for they are; they are also, however, pursued
in the name of color-blind and neoliberal practices meant to reform lagging
economies. The critical point is that just as the schools-to-prisons pipeline
is largely the unintended consequence of bad pedagogical practices that pro-
duce racial prejudice, even while implemented by those who decry racism, so
it should come as no surprise to learn that nonracial or “color-blind” policies
might prove to play a vital role in dismantling it.
The case study considered herein was conducted in Kalamazoo, Michigan,
where, in 2005, business, community, and educational leaders announced
the Kalamazoo Promise, a scholarship program that, for students who have
attended Kalamazoo Public Schools (hereafter cited as KPS), provides four

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years of tuition and fees at any of the 44 public State of Michigan two-year
or four-year colleges and universities. The per-student cost of the scholar-
ship ranges from about $1,700 a year for students who attend a community
college to almost $9,000 a year for those who enroll in the University of
Michigan. From the first class of KPS graduates who could take advantage
of the Kalamazoo Promise, in 2006, approximately 38 percent were black (of
194 graduates, 93 were females and 101 were males); another 9 percent were
classified as “other” (of 48 graduates, 25 were females and 23 were males);
the remaining 53 percent were white students (of 273 graduates, 126 were
females and 147 were males). Out of this cohort, 417 students were eligible
for the Kalamazoo Promise by virtue of having attended at least four years
at one of the Kalamazoo city high schools. Of those eligible, 73 percent of
the students (303) used the Kalamazoo Promise. In terms of the racial and
gender makeup of the participating students, 80 percent of eligible black
(60), 74 percent of white (81), and 53 percent of other (9) female graduates
are currently benefiting from the Kalamazoo Promise, while 63 percent of
eligible black (45), 76 percent of white (96), and 63 percent of other (12)
male students are doing the same. The total cost to send this first group of
KPS graduates to college was approximately $3.5 million.18
Unlike other programs that rely on public coffers, which prompts elected of-
ficials to place time constraints on students, the Kalamazoo Promise is funded
by anonymous private donors. The scholarship allows recipients up to ten years
to earn their bachelor’s degree and is available until a student receives the B.A.
or B.S., until he or she earns the bachelor’s equivalent unit requirement of 130
credit hours, or until the ten-year time limit is reached. The ten-year time limit
is far more generous than in similar programs, which typically place a four- to
six-year limit on their awards. Kalamazoo’s generous completion policy is cru-
cial to the success of first-generation college students who, on average, take
twice as long as the typical four to six years that it takes their peers to earn
an undergraduate degree. Compared with other statewide “promise” programs,
which are becoming especially popular among gubernatorial candidates during
their campaigns (I describe one such program below), the Kalamazoo Prom-
ise makes schools the cornerstone of revitalizing its city’s economic, cultural,
and civic life. Indeed, rather than standing as a top-down initiative launched
by entrepreneurial concerns, the Kalamazoo Promise was initially conceived
in 2000 by Janice Brown, a special education teacher who has since become
a school superintendent. According to Brown, the Kalamazoo Promise was
inspired by her belief that her community “will not rest until every child is

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educated every time.” For Brown, then, the Kalamazoo Promise was an ethical
commitment, a pedagogical imperative, a pledge to end America’s two-tiered
educational system, where the rich go to college and the poor go into the fac-
tory or the prison. Because the Kalamazoo Promise’s goal is to help cultivate a
culture of empowerment, its founders and leaders are far more receptive than
other educational reformers to innovative school policies and instructional
practices that affirm second generation rights, those human-rights-centered
ideals illustrated earlier in Scheurich’s study.19
The Kalamazoo Promise reaches students across racial, class, and gender lines,
it offers a flexible ten-year period during which to use the funds, it bases com-
munity growth on education, and it specifically pursues a set of goals that I
have described here as second generation rights, those cultural benchmarks that
transcend legally sanctioned desegregation in pursuit of genuine integration
with power and knowledge. Moreover, where some other Kalamazoo Promise–
like programs exclude or discourage students by establishing strict conditions
for participating in them, the Kalamazoo Promise is based neither on finan-
cial need nor on academic merit but simply on location. In other words, any
child resident in the community is eligible for the Kalamazoo Promise without
respect to her or his financial situation or scholarly record, two factors that
typically have race- and class-specific meanings. By extending the Kalamazoo
Promise to all members of the community, the program eliminates unhealthy
student competition and race- or class-based conflicts that would likely oc-
cur in the scramble for limited resources. Promise funds are based on a sliding
scale of long-term residence in the city, awarding from 65 percent of college
tuition and fees for students who complete at least four years at a Kalamazoo
high school up to 100 percent of such costs for students who have attended
city schools and who have lived within district boundaries from kindergarten
through high school graduation. The sliding scale was implemented to pre-
vent those with the means to do so from exploiting the Kalamazoo Promise by
moving to Kalamazoo without having to make a long-term investment in its
schools and wider community. Ostensibly color-blind and not concerned with
prior academic achievement, the Kalamazoo Promise’s across-the-board offer
of grants is thus rooted to one chief goal: helping Kalamazoo to build a bet-
ter present by investing in the leaders of tomorrow. Shutting down the local
access points to the schools-to-prisons pipeline is therefore a welcome, albeit
unintentional, consequence of this bold attempt at urban renewal.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the 2006 population estimate for Kala-
mazoo City is 72,161, of which 71 percent is white and 24 percent is black. As

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the census and the student data reported above indicate, Kalamazoo schools
are much more diverse than the general population, suggesting that in the
near future a proportionately greater percentage of black and Latino youth
(relative to the total number of black and Latino residents) stand to benefit
from the Kalamazoo Promise. Indeed, the Kalamazoo Promise has heightened
the hope among potential first-generation college students and their families
by creating an asset base that ensures future possibilities—it has offered
hope to the hopeless. And such hopes for the future foster tangible effects
in the present, as parents, now confident in their ability to send their chil-
dren to college, can communicate and reinforce an achievement ethic to their
children. For example, Superintendent Brown recalled the following story as
evidence for what she saw as the Kalamazoo Promise–inspired transformation
of not only the system but also the students in her district: “A first grader
[came] up to me saying, ‘I’m going to college. I don’t know what it is, but I’m
going.’” And so a child enters first grade already knowing that she is going
to college—the benefits of this knowledge are immeasurable, but we can as-
sume that such confidence will help this child succeed in school, steer clear
of crime, and achieve excellence in the field of her choosing.20
I was attracted to the Kalamazoo Promise because of its clear implications
for shutting down the schools-to-prisons pipeline, but I must also acknowl-
edge that the Kalamazoo Promise has brought a series of economic benefits
to Kalamazoo. For example, the Kalamazoo Promise creates incentives for
residents to remain within district boundaries and entices families with
children of all backgrounds to move to the city, even those who live out-
side Michigan, including those who previously lived as far away as Arizona
and Hawai’i. By both retaining existing residents and attracting new ones,
the Kalamazoo Promise has helped to increase property values, supporting
a rising tax base, which, in turn, helps to improve local schools. Indeed,
within the first two years of the Kalamazoo Promise, Kalamazoo has at-
tracted 800 new families to the school district, has constructed a $10 million
housing development, has experienced rising property values, has added
two new schools, and has become extremely attractive for businesses that
might invest, expand, or relocate to Kalamazoo to tap into its increasingly
well-trained workforce. Contrary to those who see social justice issues as a
drain on local economies and government coffers, these impressive results
suggest that pursuing the end of race-making and racism-reinforcing peda-
gogical practices can be both ethically and economically rewarding—doing
the right thing is good for business too.21

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From a long-term educational standpoint, for the Kalamazoo Promise to
work, the students who participate in the program must be successful in
college. This in turn charges public colleges and universities throughout
Michigan to better prepare teachers and the wider Kalamazoo community
to support its school district. The stakes are high, for these educational
institutions will risk losing millions in tuition fees if they do not prepare
Kalamazoo students to succeed in higher education. Because the program
is so new, it is too early to amass any comprehensive data pointing to the
Kalamazoo Promise’s impact on college graduation rates. As is the case with
all education reform, however, schools can go only so far in ameliorating
problems that begin and end far beyond the schoolyard. For example, ac-
cording to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2006 an astonishing 33 percent of the
city’s residents lived in poverty, with an astronomical 41 percent of children
under eighteen living below the poverty level. In Kalamazoo as elsewhere,
then, race and class converge, meaning the city’s schools are charged with
teaching a significant percentage of the traditionally poor and underserved
students who are most vulnerable for being sucked into the schools-to-pris-
ons pipeline. The task of educating students living in poverty is not lost
on the superintendent: “They can’t think about the Kalamazoo Promise if
they’re hungry. They can’t think about the Kalamazoo Promise if they’re
angry and lashing out,” observed Brown. Her point is obvious but merits
repetition: Even the best school reforms cannot succeed if communities do
not simultaneously attempt to reduce poverty and create better support
networks for those families and children who have, at least historically,
been left to fend for themselves.22
Nonetheless, even while the founders and leaders of the Kalamazoo Prom-
ise cannot change the town’s economic situation overnight, I have been
encouraged by the fact that racial differences in access to the Kalamazoo
Promise during its first two years appear to be slight. At the same time, al-
though Kalamazoo’s students appear to enjoy equal access to the program,
we do not yet have information to determine whether they have access to
the same quality education once they move on to college. For instance, what
are the race, gender, and class demographics of students attending two-year
colleges and universities compared with those attending four-year colleges
and universities? What are the trends when it comes to students’ selection of
majors? For example, we know that nationally, students of color are woefully
underrepresented in mathematics and other science majors that provide the
disciplinary underpinnings of much of America’s postindustrial economy.23

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Those of us who have studied the Kalamazoo Promise also anticipate some
initial disparities—regarding success in college, the choice of a major, the type
of school attended, and so on—that are largely attributable to differences
in family educational backgrounds. We hope that such disparities will lessen
over the years, especially as diverse families continue to move into Kalama-
zoo and as more and more college graduates return to the community, which
would raise its collective educational achievement. But this point prompts
other questions about the likelihood of shutting down the schools-to-prisons
pipeline. What, for instance, will be the pattern of economic opportunities
for those students who avail themselves of the Kalamazoo Promise and ei-
ther remain in or return to Kalamazoo after they complete their studies? And
what is the impact of rising housing costs on residential patterns in the city?
Will we see pockets of gentrification? Also, will all Kalamazoo schools equally
benefit from the economic boost stimulated by the Kalamazoo Promise? Per-
haps most important, will those schools and students that require additional
resources receive them? The answers to these questions are interrelated and
may offer systemic and lasting effects on stemming the schools-to-prisons
pipeline. Because historical and contemporary forces have forged schools into
race-making institutions, we hope that other scholars will tackle these and
other questions in future research.
Having posed these questions, it is my view that the Kalamazoo Promise
nonetheless offers significant hope for deep school reform because of its sys-
temic approach and its inclusion of a diverse community of stakeholders. At
the same time, the greatest obstacle to the benefits of the Kalamazoo Prom-
ise being reproduced in districts across the country is the cooptation of the
idea by savvy politicians seeking election to public offices and by corpora-
tions attempting to remake their public images. With respect to the former,
in the state where I live and work, Missouri, the attorney general and demo-
cratic gubernatorial candidate Jeremiah “Jay” Nixon has proposed the Mis-
souri Promise. This program, according to Nixon’s campaign literature, “will
provide a pathway for middle-class Missourians to earn a four-year degree
from a state college or university—tuition free.” But whereas the Kalamazoo
Promise is available to all students who graduate from high school without
regard to financial need or so-called academic merit, the Missouri Promise
employs racially and class-coded language. This does not augur well for the
prospects of the state’s students of color, who are largely concentrated in one
of the state’s two major cities, to take full advantage of this scholarship. For
instance, “middle-class Missourians,” appears to exclude a sizeable portion

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of Missouri’s black students who mainly live in the economically challenged
areas of St. Louis and Kansas City. As is so often the case, then, even while
proposing educational reform, Nixon’s version of a Promise appears to contain
typically racist language that will restrict the Missouri Promise’s support for
poor students of color. In short, and whether intentional or not, this version
of the Kalamazoo Promise will reproduce many of our educational dilemmas
and not make an impact on the schools-to-prisons pipeline.24
Moreover, students participating in the Missouri Promise are required to com-
plete community college, where they must maintain a 3.0 grade point average,
perform 50 hours of community service per year, and stay “out of trouble,” ac-
cording to Nixon’s proposal. On the one hand, the proposed Missouri program
allows the state to tap into the existing A+ Program, which grants greater
access to Missouri’s community colleges by the state’s residents. On the other
hand, the program seems to deny qualified students immediate access to four-
year public colleges and universities, which may result in derailing the hopes
of especially first-generation college students, many of whom are black and
poor and for whom an associate’s degree may become their terminal degree.
While an interesting ideal, a mandatory commitment of 50 hours per year to
community service may also impose an additional burden on poor students,
who often carry jobs to help support their families; hence, to avoid a chilling
effect, additional job counseling and career advising would need to be provided
so that students fully understand how to fulfill this obligation.
Finally, according to the proposed measure, students must pledge to “stay
out of trouble” and avoid disciplinary problems. Such language takes on
particularly raced meanings in the segregated city of St. Louis, which has
had a number of highly publicized racial incidents during the past several
years, including charges of police brutality and the claim that the city’s
white mayor has been largely insensitive to the needs and concerns of the
predominantly black city. Indeed, as so many of the other essays in this
volume make painfully clear, “staying out of trouble” often has little to
do with the actions of individuals who, because of their race and class,
are swept up in various police actions despite their innocence. This stay-
out-of-trouble clause will certainly have ominous meanings for black and
Latino students who attend the University of Missouri–Kansas City, where
a recent audit has followed other reports accusing the university of foster-
ing a racially charged campus climate. Thus, for a number of reasons, the
Missouri Promise holds little promise for making a significant difference in

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the lives of vulnerable students of color and for stemming their entry into
the schools-to-prisons pipeline.25
In a similar vein, in the predominantly black community of El Dorado,
Arkansas, Claiborne Deming, CEO of the Murphy Oil Corporation, recently an-
nounced the “Murphy Oil Promise.” According to its homepage, Murphy Oil,
a member of the Fortune 200, “is a worldwide oil and gas exploration and
production company with refining and marketing operations in the United
States and the United Kingdom and crude oil and natural gas exploration
and production operations in Canada. Murphy Oil also has an office in Kuala
Lumpur to oversee its E&P activities in Malaysia.” Its United States-based
company operates high-volume, low-cost retail gasoline stations in twenty
U.S. states, primarily in the parking areas of Wal-Mart Supercenters. The
company’s domestic profits are thus largely based upon spending by bargain-
hunting consumers who frequent discount box stores—that is, the same
population the promise seeks to support. Nonetheless, under the provisions
of its Promise, Murphy Oil will spend up to $50 million over the next twenty
years to pay $6,000 per year on tuition, for up to five years, for any graduate
of El Dorado Public Schools who attends a college or university anywhere (as
a point of reference, it costs $6,000 per year to attend the flagship campus
of the University of Arkansas). Like the Kalamazoo Promise, the Murphy Oil
Promise has had an immediate impact on the town: so far, in 2008 alone,
families from twenty-five states have moved to El Dorado and, during the
same period, housing costs have risen nearly 33 percent. It is perhaps not
surprising that, after the Murphy Oil Promise was announced, one of the
several small (and majority white) school systems that encase El Dorado,
Norphlet School District, began considering consolidating with the neigh-
boring black school district to avail itself of the scholarship. Generations
worth of segregation could possibly end, then, because of the largesse of
an oil corporation! While I am loath to dismiss the efforts of Deming and
his company to provide a college education to the youth of El Dorado, I
cannot help but question the timing of the Murphy Oil Promise, in the cur-
rent climate of climbing costs of oil and the damage that it is causing in
all areas of American life. Still, the residents of El Dorado may concur with
the conclusions of CBS News correspondent Richard Schlesinger, who broke
the story of the Murphy Oil Promise to the nation on network news: “In El
Dorado, a little pain at the pump is the price of admission to a future that
might otherwise be beyond reach.”26

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Concluding Thoughts: Little Steps
and the Victory in the Struggle
I devoted much of the previous section to a discussion of the Kalamazoo Prom-
ise because, in my view, it holds the greatest promise for sweeping, systemic
reform to thwart the race-making functions of urban schools and to abolish
the schools-to-prisons pipeline. It bears reiterating that there is no evidence
to indicate that the Kalamazoo Promise was inspired by a desire to achieve
these ends. Rather, as a pledge to all students in Kalamazoo’s schools, the
scholarship program creates the conditions that foster an empowering cul-
ture of achievement that extends to all children and youth in the district.
Regardless of its intentions, because the Kalamazoo Promise is the brainchild
of a teacher turned educational leader with a vision of achievement that ex-
tends to all children, I argued that the Kalamazoo Promise is likely to prove
amenable to other pedagogical reforms and community transformations. In-
deed, unlike the other, more restrictive, “promise” programs discussed, the
Kalamazoo Promise seems poised to help launch a genuine cultural renewal
in a formerly struggling urban community.
While I hope to see the Kalamazoo Promise duplicated across the nation, we
need not wait for large-scale programs of this kind to participate in abolishing
the schools-to-prisons pipeline. For as I mention briefly below, established
and emerging programs across the nation are creating empowering cultures
of achievement that enable historically underserved students to flourish.
Such piecemeal efforts may seem like little steps when we look at the larger
picture of a nation still suffering the damage caused by centuries of racism.
Nonetheless, throughout the United States, leaders of these programs work
on the front lines in urban schools and under some of the most challenging
conditions. These reformers have made differences in the lives of countless
children and their families and bear witness that the victory is in the day-to-
day work of educating underserved students and in doing their small part in
dismantling a piece of the schools-to-prisons pipeline. For instance, students
fare extremely well at the all-black Marcus Garvey School in Los Angeles, as
do the diverse students who attend the multicultural public Central Park East
Elementary and Secondary Schools of New York. These schools feature fairly
traditional and rigorous curricula with high performance standards. A new
partnership in Buffalo, New York, City Voices, City Visions, also fosters an
empowering culture of achievement by providing students with digital video
tools for visual and analytic thinking. At an afterschool auto shop program
in West Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, high school students and a teacher have

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created a culture of achievement in which young black men, some of whom
had previously been pushed out of school, build high-performance, soybean-
fueled sports cars. Finally, an untold number of religious and military acad-
emies also have had considerable success promoting high academic achieve-
ment among underserved students from urban communities.
Despite their different ideological commitments, the various stakeholders
in these schools and programs abide by the belief that, regardless of their
backgrounds, all children and youth can meet high standards. In doing so,
these settings foster empowering cultures of achievement wherein all students
who enter them are encouraged to flourish. Most important, these teach-
ers and students go about the business of flourishing as though to do so is
nothing out of the ordinary. Simon Hauger, the auto shop teacher at West
Philadelphia High School, perhaps captured this view best: “If you give kids
that have been stereotyped as not being able to do anything an opportunity
to do something great, they’ll step up.”27
Indeed, I concur with the educator, quoted in Young, Gifted, and Black,
who argues that “we can, whenever and wherever we wish, teach success-
fully all children whose education is of interest to us.” If this observation is
true, and I believe that it is, and if we know what works, and we do, then
the only question is whether we really want to live up to the promise of the
Equal Protection Clause and promote academic excellence among all our stu-
dents, thereby abolishing the schools-to-prisons pipeline that leads so many
of our neighbors toward lives of incarceration.28

Notes
1. For a study of the founding moment in U.S. history, when this pattern of bro-
ken promises was initiated, see Stephen John Hartnett and Michael Pfau, “The Con-
founded Rhetorics of Race in Revolutionary America,” in Rhetoric, Independence, and
Nationhood, vol. 1, in The Rhetorical History of the United States, ed. Stephen Lucas
(East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, forthcoming in 2011); for longer
views, see George M. Fredrickson, The Black Image in the White Mind: The Debate on
Afro-American Character and Destiny, 1817–1914 (1971: Middletown, CT: Wesleyan
University Press, 1987); Winthrop Jordan, White over Black: American Attitudes to-
ward the Negro, 1550–1812 (New York: Norton, 1968); Robin Blackburn, The Making
of New World Slavery: From the Baroque to the Modern, 1492–1800 (London: Verso,
1997); and Alden T. Vaughan, Roots of American Racism (Oxford, England: Oxford
University Press, 1995).
2. Michael W. Apple, “The Hidden Curriculum and the Nature of Conflict,” Inter-
change 2, no. 4 (1971): 27–40; Sharon L. Nichols and David C. Berliner, Collateral
Damage: How High-Stakes Testing Corrupts America’s Schools (Cambridge, MA: Har-
vard University Press, 2007); Jean Anyon, “Ideology and United States History Text-

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books,” Harvard Educational Review 49 (1979): 361–86; and W. E. B. DuBois, Dusk of
Dawn: An Essay toward an Autobiography of a Race Concept (1968; New Brunswick,
NJ: Transaction, 1997), 222.
3. For historical analyses of the transformation of Americans of African descent from
a multi-form population to a uniform subordinate class of slaves during the colonial
period, see (in addition to the sources listed in note 1 above) David Lyons, Unfinished
Business: Racial Junctures in U.S. History and Their Legacy, Public Law and Legal Theory
Working Paper No. 02–06 (Boston: Boston University School of Law, 2002) and Cor-
rective Justice, Equal Opportunity, and the Legacy of Slavery and Jim Crow, Public Law
and Legal Theory Working Paper No. 03–15 (Boston: Boston University School of Law,
2003); Vincent Harding, There Is a River: The Black Struggle for Freedom in America
(San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1981); Audrey Smedley, Race in North
America: Origin and Evolution of a Worldview (Boulder, CO: Westview, 2007).
4. Loïc Wacquant, “From Slavery to Mass Incarceration: Rethinking the ‘Race Ques-
tion’ in the U.S.,” New Left Review 13 (2002): 41–60; Wacquant’s essay follows a long
line of scholars making a similar argument, including David Barsamian, “Expanding the
Floor of the Cage: An Interview with Noam Chomsky,” Z Magazine 10, no. 3 (1997):
36–43; Garrett Albert Duncan, “From Plantations to Penitentiaries: Race Making and
New Century Schools,” in Without Fear: Claiming Safe Communities without Sacrificing
Ourselves, A Reader (Los Angeles: Southern California Library for Social Studies Re-
search, 2007), 26–37; Glenn C. Loury, “Why Are So Many Americans in Prison?” Boston
Review, 32, no. 4 (July–August 2007); John Edgar Wideman, “Doing Time, Marking
Race,” in Burning All Illusions: Writings from the Nation on Race, 1866–2002, ed. Paula
J. Giddings (New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press/Nation Books, 2002), 183–86; and Ste-
phen John Hartnett, “Prisons, Profit, Crime, and Social Control: A Hermeneutic of the
Production of Violence,” in Race, Class, and Community Identity, ed. Andrew Light and
Meck Nagel (New York: Humanities Press, 2000), 199–221.
5. For analyses of race-making in terms of how various European groups have
become “white,” see James Baldwin, The Price of the Ticket: Collected Nonfiction,
1948–1985 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1985); Karen Brodkin, How Jews Became
White Folks and What That Says about Race in America (Piscataway, NJ: Rutgers Uni-
versity Press, 1999); Jennifer Guglielmo and Salvatore Salerno, Are Italians White?
How Race Is Made in America (New York: Routledge, 2003); Noel Ignatiev, How the
Irish Became White (New York: Routledge, 1996); Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark:
Whiteness and the Literary Imagination (New York: Vintage, 1993); David R. Roediger,
Working toward Whiteness: How America’s Immigrants Became White (New York: Ba-
sic Books, 2005) and The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American
Working Class (New York: Verso, 1991).
6. On race-making in the suburbs, see John Ogbu, Black American Students in an
Affluent Suburb: A Study of Academic Disengagement (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum
Associates, 2003), and Mary Pattillo-McCoy, Black Picket Fences: Privilege and Peril
among the Black Middle Class (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1999); quotations
from James D. Anderson, The Education of Blacks in the South, 1860–1935 (Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988), 187–237; for a contemporary ver-
sion of Anderson’s thesis, see Jason Ziedenberg and Vincent Schiraldi, Cellblocks

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or Classrooms? The Funding of Higher Education and Corrections and its Impact on
African American Men (Washington, DC: Justice Policy Institute, 2002).
7. On the historical factors noted here, see Elliot Jaspin, Buried in the Bitter Waters:
The Hidden History of Racial Cleansing in America (New York: Basic Books, 2007); Ira
Katznelson, When Affirmative Action Was White: An Untold Story of Racial Inequality
in Twentieth Century America (New York: Norton, 2005); and James W. Loewen, Sun-
down Towns: A Hidden Dimension of American Racism (New York: Touchstone, 2005);
on the practices of post-racist racism, see Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, White Supremacy
and Racism in the Post-Civil Rights Era (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2001) and Rac-
ism without Racists: Color-Blind Racism and the Persistence of Racial Inequality in
the United States (Boulder, CO: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003).
8. See John H. McWhorter, Losing the Race: Self-Sabotage in Black America (New
York: Perennial, 2000); Ruby K. Payne, A Framework for Understanding Poverty (High-
lands, TX: aha Process, 2003); Ogbu, Black American Students in an Affluent Suburb;
Signithia Fordham and John Ogbu, “Black Students’ School Success: Coping with the
Burden of ‘Acting White,’” Urban Review 18, no. 3 (1986): 176–206; Signithia Ford-
ham, Blacked Out: Dilemmas of Race, Identity, and Success at Capital High (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1996); and Claude Steele, “A Threat in the Air: How
Stereotypes Shape the Intellectual Identity and Performance of Women and African
Americans,” American Psychologist 52 (1997): 613–29.
9. On the differences between first and second generation rights, and the differ-
ence between desegregation and integration, see Garrett Albert Duncan, “Beyond
Love: A Critical Race Ethnography of the Schooling of Adolescent Black Males,” Eq-
uity and Excellence in Education 35, no. 2 (2002): 131–43; Vivian Gunn Morris and
Curtis L. Morris, The Price They Paid: Desegregation in an African American Community
(New York: Teachers College Press, 2002); Theresa Perry, Claude Steele, and Asa G.
Hilliard, Young, Gifted, and Black: Promoting High Achievement among African-Amer-
ican Students (Boston: Beacon Press, 2003); Vanessa Siddle Walker, Their Highest
Potential: An African American School Community in the Segregated South (Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996); and Garrett Albert Duncan, “Race
and Human Rights Violations in the United States: Considerations for Human Rights
and Moral Educators,” Journal of Moral Education 29, no. 2 (2000): 183–201.
10. See “Conversation with Martin Luther King,” in Testament of Hope: The Es-
sential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. ed. Melvin Washington (San
Francisco: HarperCollins, 1987), 657–79; the arguments referenced here are on
663–67; the quoted passage is from 666.
11. See Walker, Their Highest Potential, and Morris and Morris, The Price They
Paid.
12. Regarding the NCLB’s disastrous impact on students of color, see Many Chil-
dren Left Behind: How the No Child Left Behind Act Is Damaging Our Children and Our
Schools, ed. Deborah Meier, Alfie Kohn, Linda Darling-Hammond, Theodore R. Sizer,
and George Wood (Boston: Beacon Press, 2004); Garrett Albert Duncan and Gail Emily
Wolfe, “The Education of Black Children Living in Poverty: A Systemic Analysis,” in
Child Poverty in America Today, vol. 4, ed. B. A. Arrighi and D. J. Maume (Westport,
CT: Praeger, 2007), 126–45; Dale D. Johnson, Bonnie Johnson, Stephen J. Farenga,

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and Daniel Ness, Stop High-Stakes Testing: An Appeal to America’s Conscience (Lan-
ham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2008); and the essay by Rose Braz and Myesha
Williams in this volume (chapter 5).
13. Theresa Perry, in Perry, Steele, and Hilliard, Young, Gifted, and Black, 107; and
see Deborah Meier, The Power of Their Ideas: Lessons for America from a Small School
in Harlem (Boston: Beacon Press, 2002), and James Scheurich, “Highly Successful
and Loving, Public Elementary Schools Populated Mainly by Low-SES Children of
Color: Core Beliefs and Cultural Characteristics,” Urban Education 33, no. 4 (1998):
451–91.
14. Scheurich, “Highly Successful and Loving,” 453.
15. The United Nations and UNESCO documents referenced here are available by
using the search engine at www.un.org.
16. For the details of this study, see Garrett Albert Duncan, “Schooling and In-
equality in the Post-Industrial United States: Toward a Critical Race Ethnography of
Time” (forthcoming manuscript).
17. On the deeply rooted ways that race and racism are embedded in schools, see
the Applied Research Center, Education and Race (Oakland, CA: Applied Research
Center, 1998); Duncan and Wolfe, “Education of Black Children Living in Poverty”;
Walter S. Gilliam, Pre-Kindergarteners Left Behind: Expulsion Rates in State Pre-Kin-
dergarten Systems (New Haven, CT: Yale University Child Study Center, 2005); and
Beth Harry and Mary Anderson, “The Disproportionate Placement of African American
Males in Special Education Programs: A Critique of the Process,” Journal of Negro
Education 63, no. 4 (1995): 602–19.
18. For coverage of the Promise, see Neal E. Boudette, “College Tuition Promise
Stokes Housing in Kalamazoo, Mich.,” The Wall Street Journal Online (13 March 2006),
retrieved from www.realestatejournal.com/buysell/regionalnews/20060313-boudette
.html; for more recent data on the Promise, see the materials available from the
W. F. Upjohn Institute at www.upjohninst.org/ promise/index.htm.
19. Brown quoted in “‘Kalamazoo Promise’ Delivers: Teacher Hatched a Plan for
Free College Education for Everyone in Her District,” CBS News Assignment America
(5 February 2007), a CBS news video available at http://cbsnews.com.
20. The anonymous child’s words are quoted in “Kalamazoo Promise”; for support
for my claim about how knowing college is possible increases academic success, see
Margaret S. Sherraden, Lissa Johnson, William Elliott III, Shirley Porterfield, and
William Rainford, “School-Based Children’s Saving Accounts for College: The I Can
Save Program,” Children and Youth Services Review 29, no. 3 (2007): 294–312.
21. Arizona and Hawai’i immigrants noted in Boudette and Naomi Goetz, “In Ka-
lamazoo, a Promise Boosts School Enrollment,” National Public Radio (29 November
2006), available at www.npr.org/templates/story/ story.php?storyId=6552216; the
economic issues noted here are addressed in Gary Miron and Stephanie Evergreen,
The Kalamazoo Promise as a Catalyst for Change in an Urban School District: A Theo-
retical Framework, Western Michigan University Evaluation of the Kalamazoo Promise
Working Paper, No. 1, 2007.
22. Brown quoted in “Kalamazoo Promise”; for an extended case study of how
these questions of poverty, crime rates, local family conditions, and educational

226 d u n c a n   /  achi e v e m e nt in u r ban sch o o ls

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policy affect learning practices, see William Lyons and Julie Drew, Punishing Schools:
Fear and Citizenship in American Public Education (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
Press, 2006).
23. See Garrett Albert Duncan, “Race, Equity, and the Teaching of Science,” in
Teaching and Learning Science: A Handbook, ed. Kenneth Tobin (Westport, CT: Prae-
ger, 2006), 169–78.
24. For samples of Nixon’s rhetoric, see the documents available at www.jaynixon
.com.
25. On the troubles at UMKC, see Bryan Noonan, “Invisible Men: Black Studies
Professors Say No One Should Have Been Surprised by an Embarrassing Report on
UMKC’s Racial Climate,” Kansas City Pitch, 20 July 2006, retrieved from www.pitch
.com/ 2006–07–20/news/invisible-men; more broadly, see Noliwe M. Rooks, White
Money/Black Power: The Surprising History of African American Studies and the Crisis
of Race in Higher Education (Boston: Beacon Press, 2006).
26. Information and quotation from “When Big Oil Does Good Things: Murphy Oil
Gives Every High School Graduate in One Town $6,000 a Year for College,” CBS News
with Katie Couric (16 June 2008), a CBS News video available at http://cbsnews
.com; and see the materials available at www.eldoradopromise.com.
27. Hauger quoted in “Kids Build Soybean-Fueled Car,” CBS News Assignment
America (17 February 2006), a CBS News video available at http://cbsnews.com.
28. Anonymous educator quoted in Perry, Steele, and Hilliard, Young, Gifted, and
Black, 150.

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