President Trump’s Executive Order banning DEI is an ineffective way to combat prejudice. Prejudice is normally rooted in ignorance and fear—and sometimes malice. It can be remedied by building familiarity and mutual respect. The attacks on DEI—or rather, Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion, because the words here matter—are also misguided and they have interrupted a much needed set of policies to diversify the teaching force.
Public schools need a more racially diverse teaching force—not as a symbolic gesture, but because teacher diversity measurably improves student learning, strengthens school communities, and counters the myths that fuel prejudice.
No one wants a system that encourages ignorance and fear. We want young people who can work and grow collaboratively. Being “blind” or “neutral” to racial categories will not get us there. I often wonder why the Right insists on race-neutral policies when embracing our diversity would be far more effective.
A Story About Teacher Diversity
My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Murphy, taught me to read. My parents—my father holds a master’s degree in math education, and my mother completed two years of college—were supportive of my literacy at home, but it was Mrs. Murphy who brought me over the finish line. I distinctly remember that in my private kindergarten class, held in the basement of a YMCA, all seven students made our own books with paper, fabric, and markers as a culminating exercise meant to show our parents what we had accomplished. Not only could we read the words in our books; we could produce them. I felt very proud at Parents’ Night—my book was prominently displayed. Mrs. Murphy was a young, White teacher. I was enamored of her, much like I adored most of my teachers. She gave me a leg up.
In second grade, I was blessed with Mrs. Whitfield. She was strict. She always challenged you. Any time one of us thought we had figured something out, Mrs. Whitfield would find a way to challenge our understanding. She noticed that I liked to write stories and encouraged me to enter one of my pieces in a citywide creative writing contest. I won. It changed my life, because I became a writer that day. Mrs. Whitfield was a Black teacher. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she also gave me a leg up. My talent—my intelligence—was now a public fact. The following year, when Mrs. Kendricks, my third-grade teacher, recommended me for the gifted program, no one could argue that a citywide writing-contest winner belonged there. I was the only student from my Title I elementary school who was deemed “gifted.” How could that be?
I had another Black teacher in fourth grade. She, too, was very strict. Students in her class were proud to do well because no one was allowed to skate by in Mrs. Cogswell’s classroom. But sixth grade was magical for me. Mrs. Hirschman made me want to be a teacher. She built a classroom community that allowed each student to shine, all while weaving together the arts, culture, and history. My mother grew tired of hearing about this White, Jewish woman who constantly delighted me with new insights about French Impressionism or civics and government.
In hindsight, those three years with Black teachers created a foundation that changed the trajectory of my life, and it was built and enriched by White teachers who also contributed to my academic success. The teacher–student relationship thrives when genuine care is present, but it also teaches us about both our differences and our similarities. I never once doubted my intellectual ability until college (a story for another time), because I had seen teachers—both Black and White—support me, challenge me, celebrate me, and demand greatness from me.
In my own research, I found White teachers working in predominantly Black classrooms who understood that part of their role was not only to be great pedagogues, but also to provide a counter-narrative to what society often transmits about Black students—that they are somehow less than.
The why of a thing is important.
Public schools need teacher diversity because it helps all children see that different racial groups do not have different abilities. It helps children understand that their home culture is valid and can find a home at school. It creates learning environments that shore up the resilience needed to tackle hard tasks.
I don’t fully understand a Right–Left paradigm in teacher diversity policies unless we are merely quibbling over language. “Lived experience” is a fine concept, but shouldn’t we be more precise than saying we need a “few” teachers who reflect the lived experiences of students? That seems like a weak remedy for a system tasked with delivering high-quality teaching to all students.
Empirical research suggests that increasing the diversity of classroom teachers would benefit all students. Doing so does not require sacrificing quality, but we do face substantial obstacles, given the limited pool of teachers of color. Creating ambitious goals is the right approach. What gets measured gets done. We also must change policies that introduce bias or discrimination in hiring and remove unnecessary barriers to entry. Recent research from the National Council on Teacher Quality (NCTQ) shows that teacher diversity is increasing more slowly than the diversity of adults with college degrees. This should prompt us to double down on effective practices and learn from states that are making progress such as California, Texas, and Washington, DC.
Finally, we should dispense with our discomfort about talking in racial terms. If we want a world where individuals are judged by their accomplishments and character, we cannot pretend that any of us are devoid of culture or racial classification. These are simply human characteristics found in the natural world. The true “right” approach is whatever improves teaching and learning for young people.
