Editor’s note: This is the first in a series of planned commentaries by Retired members of color, reflecting on their personal experiences in public education. It originally was published in the April edition of the Retired Reporter.
It’s been said it takes the whole village to raise a child. This African proverb is important today in public education and reflective of the many educators who have paved the way. Retired educators of color still have something to say and lessons to teach and we would do well to invite these retirees to tell their stories of challenges and triumphs. I’m here to start us off.
My name is Bill Coleman. I worked for the UMass Amherst Extension Program, teaching nutrition to families that qualified for food stamps and those in recovery programs. There were 14 women and me, all among the lowest paid in the UMass system. I qualified for food stamps, just like the families and individuals I was teaching. Minority employees in a predominantly white culture often are judged differently. Latino and Black educators made up the bulk of the nutritional teachers in my program.
Educators of color who are looking for opportunities to advance may pay a price if they advocate for righteous working conditions, as I did. I was the only male in an environment with supportive women colleagues, but the administrators were not happy with my activism. I would be called on the carpet for suggesting changes. I was told by my colleagues that the administration would talk to them about my activism, and that if you want to achieve something, ‘go slow.’ My feeling was the administration had stifled their thoughts, to the point where all they could say to me was: I have a job. Don’t upset the bosses.” Such a disparity existed in minority representation – I could see no people of color in management and there was an atmosphere of ‘us versus them.’
Community groups gave me outstanding evaluations. When I showed them to my boss, I was asked if I had requested that they write the evaluation. That made me feel like I was invisible – that my net worth did not matter. The one boss who did support me initially was “talked to” by her superiors when she communicated about the great job I was doing. She never promoted me, although there were any number of times she could have. I was basically ignored. This seemed to me to be a combination of gender bias, a response to my advocating for union rights and racial discrimination. My evaluations were always ‘adequate,’ no matter the input from the groups I worked with. My dad grew up on a tobacco farm in the South. Sharecroppers didn’t make much money. They were given the same message as we were: “Don’t complain. Do what they tell you and you will get a good review.” Not much has changed.
It was often very obvious to me that my colleagues and I were judged by race and gender. But every time I spoke up to try and combat the racism, I would be directed to long-term employees of color who defended the institution to protect their status. I felt that my experience was being denied and I was led to believe that this was all in my mind. I never got credit for the good things I accomplished. In my working group, we had no permanent space to do our work. We needed a ‘home’ location. I found a minority-owned building and created a partnership with the owner to rent space. A deal was established and my reward from the administration was: “Great, now don’t push activism on better pay.” The administration would let the other employees know that my type of activism was frowned upon. The threat – the possibility of layoffs – never came through, but this made the employees regroup and not advocate for themselves.
The impact of this environment made people sit back and think, is this really worth it? Some were living in fear of losing continued employment. You put limits on your abilities if you believe that the more you do, the less you’ll be recognized. If you do excel, you get compliments in words, but not compensated or promoted in position. If you advocate for employee or union rights, you get neither.
After I retired from UMass, I substituted in the Worcester Public Schools. I met educators of color who wanted to do more – wanted to advocate for students and their schools; wanted to help students who needed more human services. When they did advocate for these expensive but necessary options, they were met with: “Okay, I’ll look into it, but I need to tell you that your contract for next year is not being renewed at this school.” I saw this happen. When you are an educator of color in a predominantly white environment, it seemed to me that you would be judged by the color of your skin. We haven’t reached the point where we are judged on our contributions.
Less than 5 percent of teachers are educators of color, according to national education statistics. When you run into students when they are older and you hear that you made a difference in their lives when they were at a low point – that’s when you get the feedback you needed during your career but didn’t get. Educators shouldn’t be afraid to write thoughts down and share with a mentor. Team up with a mentor. We need to encourage others to stand up for their rights with the backing and support of a union contract. We must establish a support system that invites educational professionals to share and be supported.
Just because one retires does not limit one's ability to contribute with wisdom to the challenges confronting public education today. Call on the wisdom of educators who have walked the walk and lived during the time when they were alone in their respective fields. The voices who have lived the profession must be heard and their ideas addressed.
If you would like to be involved in our BIPOC retiree project and/or share your story as a BIPOC educator, please email Retired members Phyllis Neufeld at pbneufeld@gmail.com or Ora Gladstone
at oragladstone@gmail.com.
