Sneakerheads can't read either

While I agree that educators should appreciate the culture that drives a student's identity, I doubt it should distract from focusing on educational outcomes

I'm about to get myself in trouble. I've failed as a father.

A few days ago, my wife informed me that one of our children was wearing Crocs to school in subzero Minnesota weather. He also refuses to wear a coat, hat, or gloves or take lunch.

All of these things are deemed uncool in the middle-school culture.

Being warm and eating food is socially unacceptable.

Do you remember that episode of The Cosby Show where Theo gave a long passionate story about how Cliff, his father, should accept him for who he is and not judge his poor performance in school?

Alright Dad, I thought about what you said and I see your point. Thank you. Thank you. But I have a point too. Make your point. You're a doctor and mom's a lawyer and you're both successful in everything and that's great. But maybe I was born to be a regular person and have a regular life.

If you weren't a doctor, I wouldn't love you less because you're my dad. And so instead of acting disappointed because I'm not like you, maybe you can just accept who I am and love me anyway because I'm your son.

The audience applauds Theo's touching vulnerability.

Yet, instead of offering some sugary sitcom fatherly acceptance and warm support, Cliff yells, "Theo, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life! There's no wonder you get D's in everything."

Now you are afraid to try because you're afraid that your brain is going to explode and it's going to ooze out of your ears. Now I'm telling you, you are going to try as hard as you. And you're gonna do it because I said so. I am your father. I brought you in this world and I'll take you out.

I was 16 years old when the Huxtables had that exchange. Today I'm a seasoned Gen X father, and as such, it’s in my anti-authoritarian nature to side more with Theo plea for individuality, but as a senior X’er it's my responsibility to at least consider the life-saving merits Cliff’s position.

Thus, back to my son, his lack of sneakers, the cold Minnesota weather, and the seemingly irresistible pull of social pressure from peers to be a conformist dolt.

He doesn't want to wear his Nike Air Force 1's because they have creases where your foot bends as you walk. A crease is a sin in sneaker culture. I didn't know that because 1) I never had a pair of Air Force 1's before the age of 50 because they were a gaudy excess to my selectively frugal parents, and 2) it would never occur to me that walking like a normal human being could make a brand new pair of shoes worthless.

In a show of how crazy Affluenza is in my home, my wife even bought him crease protectors that insert into his shoes and supposedly prevent a crease.

That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard. But I didn't say that, and even when I do, or if I do, it will be without the teeth of how Cliff said it.

I talk tough about all of this education stuff, but I'm way too soft on crimes against reason regarding my kids.

And this is where it connects to my life as a public educologist.

Identity Matters

My brother Sharif El-Mekki sent me this article published by the ACSD. The tagline is: "What if we use sneakers as a hook to build relationships?"

You’ve got my attention. Anything that strengthens the relationship between student and educator is a beautiful thing.

The school principal who wrote the piece - Phelton Moss (no shade on this brother, please read his article) - talks about a professional experience that changed his mind on the issue of sneakers.

He says:

For many Black boys, sneakers are statements that define their personality and character and speak to their self-worth and self-respect. I cannot help but recall an experience I had as a middle school principal that shifted my perspective on what engagement can mean for Black boys. One of our students, Jaylin, was walking extremely slow in the hall and working hard to stay out of the way of others. I said, "Jaylin, why are you walking like that? Shouldn't you be in class already? You are wasting time." He responded, "Umm. I'm trying to make sure my Forces don't get a crease in them."

He goes on to make a case for seeing sneaker culture as a form of valid identity expression that educationists should not blunt.

Further, he uses Dr. Bettina Love's "abolitionist teaching" concept to understand how schools can marginalize students.

Finally, he offers several helpful advisories on how educators can support the academic support of Black boys, including committing to "self-work" by learning all they can learn about their interactions with marginalized students, building genuine relationships with Black boys, and eradicating the "deficit mindsets" that may contribute to the poorer outcomes associated with mixed-race teacher/student pairings.

I support all that.

But Moss builds his argument with a familiar and faulty frame that makes me want to channel my inner Cliff.

He starts with this:

After decades of reform initiatives, from the No Child Left Behind Act to the Every Student Succeeds Act, challenges persist for Black boys in their quest for academic freedom and success. Countless studies still conclude that being Black and male in America's schools is a problem—many Black boys are dehumanized before they ever enter the classroom because of deeply entrenched stereotypes and biases.

If we break that down, he's indirectly implicating the marquee federal education policies of the past several decades with not ending the problems schools have with educating Black boys or ending the dehumanization Black boys suffer in schools.

His point is accurate but misleading. It's like saying that after all these years of government assistance, we still have unhoused people.

The policies he's carelessly discounting have always been a part of education's incomplete arsenal to improve outcomes for Black and brown students.

The case for educators to do a lot of work to understand the importance of identity when teaching students is essential to educational progress. However, putting that critical premise in a contest with federal legislation that has created structures for understanding how well students are doing and pressures for schools to do better is overwoke.

It's trendy, but it's a no for me.

Outcomes Matter More

The goal of all our discussions, articles, debates, policies and advocacy is better outcomes for kids. We want them to get all of the learning they need in their formative years so they can live personally meaningful lives. Having data is the best way to know if we are on or off track with that focus.

More than anything, NCLB and its policy predecessors and descendants are about having the shared and meaningful data we need to make marginalized students visible.

It's in service of equity, not an enemy of it.

Ed Week's explainer on No Child Left Behind clarifies this point, saying the legislation "…put a special focus on ensuring that states and schools boost the performance of certain groups of students, such as English-language learners, students in special education, and poor and minority children, whose achievement, on average, trails their peers."

States and schools could no longer take Title 1 money meant to serve the needs of students in poverty without being on the hook for succeeding with students in poverty.

NCLB also mandated the desegregation of student data so that states couldn't hide their failure with nonwhite students by averaging everyone together. It required that states ensure poorer schools got their fair share of teachers rated as "highly-qualified." And it pumped a ton of money into interventions that benefited schools and districts that earnestly sought to improve outcomes for kids who had been ignored for most of public education's history.

It wasn't a perfect policy. It didn't yield miracles. Centuries of anti-Blackness embedded with American systems didn't cease to produce new forms of discrimination.

It didn't achieve world peace.

But, student outcomes improved until educationists in the system who didn't like the occupational pressure to produce results for kids they deemed less capable than others became a point of their political organization against reform policies.

So, forgive me if I believe the capitalist and marketing-driven ethics of sneaker culture are anything other than a distraction from the fact that the United States fails to get most kids reading, writing, and calculating at grade level.

Now, if only I could find a way to tell my son that wearing Crocs in subzero weather simply because he has a crease in his overpriced sweatshop-manufactured shoes is the dumbest thing I've ever heard - without damaging his identity or leaving him scarred, it will be a good day.

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I realize that using Bill Cosby in this post is problematic. I use it here as an undeniable cultural touchstone.