Dominican High School, where both of my sons graduated, and
where my daughter Teenasia is now a freshman, is a microcosm of both Milwaukee
and the nation. The population of the school is a little more than half white,
with our minority population made up of African American, Latino and Asian
students, including a dozen or so students from China. The socio-economic
status of families vary from struggling to well off.
One week
after the presidential election, Dominican held its monthly parent association
meeting. Each meeting has a focus—study skills; drug and alcohol prevention;
state of the school. This meeting’s focus was school programs supporting diversity
and inclusion. The administration and parent diversity committee leaders were
on deck to speak. With racial, ethnic and gender issues forefront since Trump’s
election, the timing of the meeting felt appropriate—our nation was talking
about diversity, it made sense that our school community should be doing the
same.
As I walked into the meeting, I was a little
afraid — not because I thought parents would rant regarding their political
differences, but because I feared the opposite. I was afraid that in a national
climate charged with tension around issues of race, gender, religion and
policy, our diverse Dominican parents would play it too polite, sidestepping the
issue so as to have a tidy and uneventful meeting. I was afraid that we wouldn’t
dare to dive under the surface of diversity, where life is nuanced and
complicated.
I had
nothing to fear.
The meeting
was amazing and left me wishing it could have been televised and shown to U.S. citizens
everywhere as an example of what dialog and understanding look like. Unlike the
echo-chambers of social media discussion, where people of only one viewpoint
share similar experiences and beliefs, our meeting included parents who voted
for Trump and parents who voted for Clinton; we were male and female; black,
white and Latino.
Dominican
administration led with comments on school initiatives aimed at fostering a
healthy atmosphere of inclusion. The principal acknowledged that Dominican’s
almost all-white faculty did not mirror the diversity of the student body, and hiring
challenges were exacerbated by a shrinking pool of teachers of color. Responding
to suggestions from several parents last spring, the school began a course of
diversity training for teachers. The principal turned the meeting over to the
trainer, an African American past-parent and Dominican board member, who
presented information about the content and goals of the training.
When she
finished, a white mom’s hand went up.
“When I
walk through the school, I see kids from all backgrounds getting along,” she
said. “My son has an eclectic group of friends. Are there problems here I’m not
aware of?”
It was the
question that defined the evening.
Both the school principal, who is
white, and the leader of the parent diversity committee, who is African
American, assured the group that Dominican’s diversity initiatives—teacher training;
parent diversity committee; student diversity committee; multicultural club; black
heritage club— were not reactive to specific incidents or major problems, but
were part of an ongoing effort to recognize the challenges inherent to a
diverse community and equip members of that community with tools be successful.
The white
mother nodded, but still looked a bit puzzled, as if she wanted to understand
the inherent challenges, but didn’t. An African American father of a junior
jumped in.
“My son loves Dominican,” he said.
“He’s friends with kids from a variety of backgrounds. But he still has to work
hard to assimilate—he’s still a minority. And that’s the value of the black
heritage club— he can be comfortable and better able to reach out to other
buddies who might be white or Latino who aren’t part of that club—either to
invite them in, so they can learn something, or to just introduce them to his
friends from the club.”
I watched
the mom who had initially asked the question listening and saw her move from
confusion to understanding. The father’s explanation about working to fit in resonated.
From there
the conversation moved to other challenges. An African American mother spoke of
her son’s experience as the only minority in an advanced placement class, and
her own reflection of walking the line between high expectations and too much
pressure. A white mom asked how progress in diversity could be measured—how
would we know if our initiatives were making a difference? A Latina mom told of
her daughter’s sadness in response to flippancy from some white students as to
just how grave the immigration situation could become for friends and family of
Latino students. The mother blinked back tears. In response to her comments,
the diversity trainer took a moment to discuss the difference between intent
versus impact and how it’s not enough to say “I didn’t mean to…” Impact of
comments or actions trumps intent. The principal
noted that assemblies for each class the next day would address sensitivity to
the election’s impact.
As the conversation continued, the
mood was serious and thoughtful. No one interrupted, and no one took the floor
to promote an agenda. In talking about missteps of some students, the school
president commented that while hateful words or actions would always be subject
to strong disciplinary proceedings, the school also took the position that
teenagers, by the nature of their youth, would make mistakes in all arenas,
including diversity, and it was up to the school and parents to educate and
guide students in the correct direction.
After going
an hour overtime, the meeting closed amid comments that we should all get
together in a social setting, not just at a meeting. We walked to our cars,
chatting in pairs or in small groups.
I arrived
home. I didn’t turn on the TV. I didn’t log into Facebook. The emotion and
issues raised at the meeting clung to my heart. My responsibility, and indeed
the responsibility of all of Dominican was made clear. We still had much work
to do—as a school and as a nation. But the meeting gave me such hope that
Dominican parents were up for the challenge, ready for the work. Indeed, the
conversation itself was part of that work. For in order to move forward, we
have to first listen.
