Equality Becomes Equity in a Democratic English Classroom

Abby Erdmann

I began teaching English in School-Within-a-School (SWS), Brookline High’s alternative democratic school, in 1977,

eight years after its founding. It was alternative and democratic—kids called teachers by first names, the rooms had couches, not hard desks, and we—both students and staff-- expected to use a different pedagogy in our classroom. These were the early days. The kids were “freaks” and free spirits with a scattering of Ivy Leaguers, kids who felt themselves to be very different and who wanted a change.

The first few years, I had to rethink all my assumptions about traditional teaching—which was teacher-led and teacher-dominated—and to evolve instead a democratic model of teaching, where students got a say in every aspect of the class—its rules, the books we read, even the pacing of reading. I did not simply hand over my expertise or minimize it, but I did ask for serious involvement (“Is it possible for everyone to read 40 pages a night in Anna Karenina?”). And we devoted class time to discussing and resolving these issues. Some of these discussions were heaviest when academically talented kids pushed hard on those struggling to read—and often those “AP” students could make the most compelling arguments. Yet in most cases, and in most classes, agreement was reached; students felt ownership of the course and became a community. Some of the most important learning came from the very heterogeneous grouping of our classes, when an AP student listened to and began to understand a black student describe a microagression like, “Oh, you are so lucky—affirmative action will help get into that college”  

Our classes took place in the context of a democratic school. In our Town Meeting, which met once a week, students and staff discussed issues and made decisions (one person, one vote) about policies, affirmative action, even trying out no homework for two weeks. Students, randomly selected, run Town Meeting with the input of one staff member.

Equality as a value is central to democracy—one person, one vote. Equality means treating everyone the same, but a few years into my SWS career, I began to see the difference between equality and equity. Equality is fine if everyone starts at the same place. But imagine students of different heights needing to see a screen. If you give them all the same chair, the shorter ones will not be able to see it. They need taller ones; the taller ones need shorter ones. You must see what each student needs to be successful and work to give that. Then you have moved from equality to equity.

Yet there were problems in SWS. For one, my classes, unlike the rest of Brookline High, were all white. When one day I approached the only black student on my roster to ask why he signed up for SWS, he told me the computer had placed him—he had not chosen it.

“Why,” asked Ron Gibson, a black guidance counselor who came to talk to my Individuals and Institutions class about race, “why are all the students in the room white?” The answer was so obvious that I am deeply ashamed it took so long for me to see it. I began to see that structural racism operated in SWS policies and practices. Our acceptance policy was “First come, first served,” which sounds democratic, but push a little harder. Those who know about SWS know to run up to the fourth floor. (Many students don’t even know where the fourth floor is, much less to run up on the first day of school to grab a spot.) Social groups formed in a school where tracking separates kids are not likely to have friendships across race. The biggest factor in attracting students is their knowing someone who is in SWS and likes it. Students of color had no such invitation or welcome.

Compounding this hurdle, we gave preference to siblings, feeling “it wasn’t fair” if one got in and the other did not. But what else “wasn’t fair”?

Paying close attention to how inequitable our acceptance policies were despite the illusion of democracy created by our lottery system, we began to see and acknowledge and shift our privilege and bias.  We changed our first come, first served, policy to a simple “Sign up before April 15.” We reached out to students of color through Metco and African American Scholars. We went to freshmen assemblies and even into the elementary schools to put out the word about SWS, so that by the time kids came to the school, they had a more sophisticated notion of SWS than simply “the freak school.” And we committed to continuing our outreach until SWS class demographics matched the demographics “downstairs.”

But these polices were not enough. Retention is different from recruitment. SWS still “felt white.” The kids of color were the minority, and the culture of our program often felt foreign. We began a Students of Color group, which for many years had only students of color. Here was a safe space where kids could come in and speak their experience without having to justify, explain or guard themselves. For years, I, a white teacher, was its only advisor, but SWS has had teachers of color, and they of course led the meetings. Lena Hamilton, a former student who taught in SWS for one year, met with five black senior girls to shepherd them through the college application process. We began to see that equality and equity in education are very different, and we began to develop appropriate supports and processes to create equity.

In our SWS English class, this has a special meaning. Our English classes are untracked, and students—sophomores, juniors, and seniors—are all placed in our classes, and all our classes are “honors” level. So in one class you may have a freshman who has been in lower-level classes sitting next to an AP senior.

Judged by the same standard, the younger child is doomed to do poorly, learning only that they’re stupid. As Einstein says, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” So we need to tease out each student’s capability to see their needs and capacities and to support and challenge them to do their best.  Devyn needed help starting his paper in class and then he could finish it at home. Under his fear of failure was fierce resilience. Tamara had a major illness and  a real gift with writing and so we worked out a schedule to accommodate her days in bed. A one size fits all attendance policy would have doomed her to failure.  

Equity is giving everyone what he or she needs to be successful: equality is treating everyone the same. Equality aims to promote fairness, but it can work only if everyone starts from the same place and needs the same help. We know that is simply false. Equity appears unfair, but it actively moves everyone closer to success by “leveling the playing field.” Students start at different places with different needs. As teachers, we need to ask not only what is equal but what is equitable, and although equal is easier—a simpler science—equity is more refined—often a judgment call, not simply an application of policy. Using equity, we can  create a truly democratic classroom where everyone can succeed.