Dr. James Whitfield

Advocacy

Weekly With Whitfield – Bridges

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In May of 2022 I was selected as one of forty people across the U.S. (Chicago, Dallas, and Pittsburgh) to join Independent Sector’s inaugural 2022 Bridging Fellows cohort. This two year program, through a combination of virtual and in-person convenings allows us to engage, learn, amplify, and share adaptive skills to help our communities bridge across various divides.

Serendipity. To be in such a space, learning from so many fabulous people, whom I may have never met if not for the storms I’ve encountered over the last couple years. An opportunity to engage in the deep and powerful work of building bridges to create stronger communities.

And, as fate would have it, this week would find us in the City of Steel, Pittsburgh, PA – also prominently known as the City of Bridges.

A Beautiful Landscape

The birds-eye-view flying into the city was pretty amazing. But it was when I hit the ground that it hit me on a whole other level. Pittsburgh is so picturesque.

From the iconic hills that rise up from the banks of the Allegheny River and stretch out into the distance, covered in a patchwork of green and brown. To the Monongahela River, with its deep shades of green, reflecting the foliage that lines its banks. To the Ohio River, with Its deep, dark blue hues, reflecting the sky above and the depths below, carrying barges and cargo ships up and down its length. These three rivers create a landscape that is both beautiful, powerful, and captivating. 

As the city is surrounded by these majestic waters, bridges are critical. Pittsburgh has a network of over 440 bridges – more bridges than any other city in the world, including Venice, Italy. As you drive into the city, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer number of bridges that dot the skyline. Some are massive steel structures that stretch across entire river valleys, while others are small pedestrian bridges that connect neighborhoods and parks. Each with their own unique beauty, character, and purpose.

These bridges are not just a testament to the city’s historic, industrial past, but they also serve as an important part of the city’s transportation infrastructure and add to the overall beauty of the city. Bridges everywhere. A beautiful necessity. But also a symbol of the task before us in our own communities – to be bridge builders.

Great Divides

Over the course of the last several years in the United States, the gulf between us has grown wider and wider. We’ve become that pesky set of siblings that fight just to fight. We will fight over just about anything. 

For many, all hope is lost. But not for me. Although we may have some deep wounds to heal – and we may need to go to time-out for a few minutes – I have faith in us. This is not the first time we’ve been at odds with each other. And this will not be the last time, I assure you. These times provide us with an opportunity to help  form a more perfect union. Our continued capacity to bridge the divides that would keep us worlds apart helps us move forward.

Bridges and Bridging Work

As we traversed the city for this convening I couldn’t help but reflect on the likeness of the physical bridge and the bridging work before us. Bridges are physical structures that connect people and places that may otherwise be divided by impassable barriers. Similarly, in this work we seek to bridge the gap between people and their causes, connecting those who might otherwise be separated by barriers of ignorance, indifference, or fear.

At the heart of this bridging, is the idea that we are all connected. We might come from different backgrounds, have different lived experiences, and be motivated by different concerns, but at our core, we share a basic, common humanity. We all want to live in a just and compassionate world. And these bridges can help us navigate the divides that separate us. Connecting us and  moving us towards our vision of a better future.

Building a Solid Foundation 

A bridge is nothing without a strong, solid foundation. The same goes for the bridging work in our communities. This foundation is built on knowledge, research, and an understanding of the issues and the impact they have on communities. Without taking the time to delve into those key aspects, our efforts are bound to collapse, leaving those who rely on our work stranded and vulnerable. 

In Pittsburgh we had the opportunity to visit several organizations committed to bridging in their communities. Each organization had built a firm foundation in the heart of the city geared towards service, engagement, and standing in the gap for some of the most vulnerable populations. Hearing their journey of how they laid that foundation in the face of some pretty challenging obstacles was inspiring.

Our capacity to build strong relationships in the communities we serve is key. Knowing the wide range of humanity that exists in our space at a deep and meaningful level provides focus as we navigate the challenges that come with bringing communities. Strong relational capacity leads to high levels of trust which, in turn, affords us the ability to move faster than we could otherwise.

Additionally, our sense of purpose is critical to setting out on firm footing. Having a strong, rooted foundation allows us to serve as a determined presence in our communities to leverage the power that lies within to create better futures for our people. 

Design and Construction 

A bridge is so much more than its foundation, though. It requires careful, intentional  design, engineering, and construction. Bridging work in communities is no different. We must put forth the required creativity, strategy, and collaboration to build bridges that are strong, resilient, nurturing, and effective. Additionally, innovation and vision are critical to creating solutions that can address the complex and interconnected issues facing our world.

One of the highlights of our time was our visit to 1Hood Media. As we walked off the bus to enter their facility, the cameras were rolling. A team of individuals greeted us with cameras, and continued as we entered the building, welcomed by the dope beats of old school hip-hop. At some point, the footage captured will undoubtedly be part of a piece for them telling their story. They’ve become masters of creative storytelling to highlight issues in their community, educating the populace, and bringing people in to solve complex issues plaguing their community.

1Hood has a distinct vision for amplifying and authorizing youth voices. The organization’s leaders embrace the historic role that youth have played in bridge builders across our nation over time. Instead of being an organization of “as the adults, we’re here to tell you how it’s done”, they commit to holding space for young people to speak up, engage, and activate in their communities where they see a need. 

Additionally, they’re embrace of art and creativity have ushered opportunities for artists to engage in the work of bridge building through their medium of expression. Through thoughtful design, creativity, strategy, and collaboration towards creating a strong bridge to the communities they serve across the city.

Connection

At its core, a bridge is a structure that connects two places that would otherwise be separate. They span rivers, valleys, and other obstacles, providing a safe and efficient way for people to travel between them. It brings people together, creating opportunities for dialogue, understanding, collaboration, and cooperation. 

Such is the work of bridging in our communities. We must connect people from different backgrounds, communities, and causes, to create a space for them to learn from one another, share their lived experiences, and build towards brighter futures.

We had the opportunity to do a guided bus tour through a few of the roughly 90 neighborhoods that comprise Pittsburgh. Mr. Malik was our phenomenal guide – an absolute wealth of knowledge surrounding, most anything, Pittsburgh. But this tour was largely focused on affordable housing and sustainability in a few communities. 

Listening to him speak of the collaboration and connectivity needed to pull off some of these aspirational housing proposals was mind boggling and inspirational. He spoke to the connections between the private sector, public sector, developers, philanthropy, etc. to make their collective vision come to life.  And, while they all tend to move at very different speeds, they’re all critical to creating brighter outcomes for people in our communities. Sure many of these entities may have some competing priorities, but the work of bridging these priorities is paramount towards creating communities where we can all thrive.

Connection doesn’t always mean we will immediately agree on whatever the problem is that we seek to solve, or how to solve it. But our willingness to understand, engage in dialogue, and collaborate can create strong connections that allow us to see past that which separates us and towards that which we can envision for our collective future.

Upkeep

Bridges require ongoing maintenance and repair to keep them strong and functional. Neglect can and, eventually, will lead to disaster. The work we do in our communities is no different. Today we find our societal bridges in need of massive repair. Fear-mongering, deception, othering, ignorance, and hate have chipped away at our social fabric, eroding trust in our fellow man.

As we go about the challenging work of repairing these fractures it’s imperative that we operate with compassion and empathy. As hard as it may be to listen to those who may believe differently than us, please take time to lend a kind ear. Chances are, if we really listen, we can find that common ground and begin to solder these broken pieces of our communities.

And it won’t be easy. There’s no sense in pretending it will be. It will be hard work. As we are challenged with things that may run counter to that which we thought we knew there’s a tendency to get defensive. It’s human nature. But I encourage you to lean into vulnerability and push back on those defensive feelings. 

Building bridges is just the first step. Building communities where all can thrive requires ongoing commitment, monitoring, and evaluation to ensure that the bridges we construct remain strong and effective over time.

Be the Bridge

The symbol of the bridge reminds us that we are all connected, and that the work of building great, thriving communities is about constructing bridges that can span divides, connect people, and create opportunities for a better future. It requires a solid foundation, careful design and construction, and ongoing care and repair. But if we dare erect these bridges, if we can connect people and causes at the intersection of various issues, then we can create a world that is better for us all.

I encourage you to get out there and look for opportunities to build bridges in your communities. The work is plenty and endless. And there will be new concerns that arise as we turn the pages of tomorrow. But it’s necessary and so worth it. 

Go Build!

The Impact of Black Male Educators

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To kick off Black History Month this year I’d like to share some insights on two Black male educators. Both have played a pivotal role in the trajectory of my journey to become a member of the next generation of Black male educators. Richard Bacon and James Johnson.

The research is clear, Black male educators can make a significant impact on the academic and social-emotional outcomes of students. In fact, studies have found that black male students who have a Black male teacher are more likely to graduate high school and less likely to be suspended or incarcerated (Fryer & Levitt, 2004). Additionally, Black male students who have Black male teachers are more likely to feel seen and heard in the classroom and to feel like their experiences and perspectives are valued (Gorski & Taylor, 2011).

As someone who has dedicated my life to public education, I have always known that education is one of the most powerful tools we have to create a more just and equitable society. I have seen firsthand the importance of having positive role models and mentors who look like us in our lives and in our communities. 

Unfortunately, despite the clear benefits, Black male students are far less likely to have Black male teachers than their peers. According to a report by the National Center for Education Statistics, only 2% of teachers in public schools are Black men, despite the fact that they make up around 7% of the population (NCES, 2018). This is not accidental, it’s systemic. 

I know there will be some who will read this and say “Wait a minute. What are you talking about? You made it, didn’t you? You even moved up the ladder to be principal at 3 different schools.”

To that I’d say:

  1. Think about what you just thought. Because I “made it” doesn’t negate the fact that Black male educators still only make up roughly 2% of the teacher population. 
  2. A systemic issue does not magically disappear because an individual may have achieved a certain level of success. The individual likely only did so by navigating the system with the help of those 2% who found their way in.
  3. Read part of my journey outlined below to catch a glimpse as to how this systemic underrepresentation manifests itself and who, in my story, helped me break into that 2%

Becoming Coach Whit

In the summer of 2005 I set out on my search for a place to begin what I considered to be my dream job at the time – a high school teacher and basketball coach. When I tell you I applied all over the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex (TX) trying to find a job I mean ALL OVER THE DFW. 

The few opportunities I got to interview in districts in Northeast Tarrant County were unsuccessful. On one particular occasion I interviewed for a position as a middle school teacher/coach at a school just miles from where my wife and I had settled down in a little apartment in North Richland Hills. As I arrived at the school, the principal, an older White gentleman, greeted me and walked me over to his office. Things seemed to be going pretty good throughout the interview. It was very much conversational.

However, things would turn quickly. As we neared the end of our conversation the principal sat up in his chair and rested his arms on the table. Then he struck a very serious tone. He began, “Now James, I just want you to be aware of something. You’ve probably seen the demographics of this school – it’s predominantly White, right? I just want to let you know that, should you be the selected candidate, it’s ok…the guy you’d be replacing was a colored fella, as well. And he didn’t have any problems.”

I sat in my chair, absolutely astonished. I thought:

In the Year of Our Lord, 2005, did this man just call me a “colored fella”? 

Am I being punked right now? 

What on earth is going on? 

There is no way in the world this man is hiring me – and I honestly don’t know if I want to work for him.

And then he quickly switched gears to talk about the process moving forward. I asked a few questions at the end of the interview, then left. I never heard back from this principal. As was the case in the few other interviews I had in the area, which so happened to be with White principals. 

The most common theme of the denial responses was ”not the right fit”. One of those principals who gave me that as his rationale back in 2005 is now the superintendent of a school district in NE Tarrant County who’s district has a whole NBC podcast dedicated to them, highlighting their mishandling of reports of discrimination. I only wish I had the courage to ask for a bit of clarification about that “fit” back then. But, as fate would have it, Black men would be the people who took the first chance on me stepping into the career I’d always dreamed about. 

James Johnson

With my brand new teaching credentials in hand, I found myself as a pest control technician for a local company. My search for a teaching/coaching position continued. My little brother was going to be moving in with us to begin his sophomore year of high school and I thought back to what my father always used to tell me – “take what you get til’ you get what you want.” I definitely didn’t want to be spraying for bugs and, in no way am I discounting that work that people do – it just wasn’t what I’d busted my tail through college to do. I wanted to be a Social Studies teacher and basketball coach.

As luck would have it, I reconnected with one of my high school basketball coaches, James Johnson in the summer of 2005. Coach Johnson was one of the few Black men I ever had the chance to encounter throughout my entire k-12 school experience (there were a total of 4). Not only was he my coach, pushing me towards greatness on the court, he set an example as a father and husband. He held me accountable in the classroom and instilled confidence in my ability to lead. What Coach Johnson did for me and so many of my classmates furthered the  passion that lied within me to pursue education as a career. I wanted to do for kids what he and so many had done for me.

When we reconnected he was the Head Boys Basketball Coach in Rockdale, TX and was in need of an assistant coach. With prospects drying out here in North Texas I went down to visit Coach and interview with the Athletic Director. Rockdale is a sleepy town of roughly 5,000 people, a little bigger than the small towns in Central Texas that both my mother and father’s sides of the family were from. 

I remember driving around town before the interview, which took me all of about 15 minutes. As I drove I reflected on what this would mean if I accepted a role in Rockdale:

My wife, Kerrie’s, business was just beginning to boom as she’d finished school and she’d be unable to relocate.

I’d be leaving my wife, kids, and brother in North Texas as I started my career and I’d commute back and forth when I could.

I’d be coaching everything under the sun at this small school, so being able to get back home with any regularity would be extremely difficult.

All that said, I would be making a significantly larger amount of money than I would spraying for bugs.

With Kerrie, the kids, and my brother on board, we were going to make that sacrifice, should the opportunity come.

I met Coach Johnson in the gym at Rockdale High School for a tour of the campus. Reuniting with him in such a way was so surreal – a true full circle moment. He was as I remembered – calm, collected, assuring, and full of faith in me. I was his guy. 

We went to visit with the AD and, in a matter of about an hour, it was a done deal. I’d been offered the role as a teacher/coach at Rockdale High School. I drove back that afternoon, conflicted over the decision. I knew my family was supportive, but the thought of being away from them for extended periods of time made me sick to my stomach. Literally, I stopped along the access road of I-35 on several occasions to release my anxieties.

Nonetheless, it didn’t do unnoticed that the first person to put their neck out for me was a Black man. I reflected on all my experiences up to that point in my search, all the “colored fellas” and “not the right fit”. Eventually, I came to rest in the fact that it is what it is. I decided to be grateful for the opportunity that was presented rather than sitting in the bitterness of those denials. I went back to spraying for bugs and prepared for the day that would soon come – my journey to Rockdale, TX.

Richard Bacon

In the spring of 2005 it was decided that my little brother, Michael, would come to live with us. My Grandmother had done an amazing job filling in the gaps for us when our mother passed in January of 1997. She’d been through so much since she retired in the late 80’s, losing my grandfather and her baby girl. While Mike was an A-Honor Roll student and amazing young man, it was just time. Additionally, Mike wanted to play basketball/baseball in a larger city and North Richland Hills was much larger than Itasca. 

The school he would attend was Richland High. As I began my research, I saw that the Head Coach was Richard Bacon.  He was a legend in Texas High School Basketball, having won two state championships with perennial powerhouse, Dallas Lincoln. I wanted to meet this guy I’d heard so much about in basketball circles. Additionally, I wanted to know the man who would coach my baby brother, so I reached out and connected.

His response was swift and I took a day off to go and meet him at Richland High School. As I pulled up, Coach Bacon stood outside the gym waving me over. I walked up and was immediately embraced in what most know of as the “bro hug”, then we walked upstairs to his office. We sat and talked for what seemed like hours about basketball, life, and the area, which I was relatively new to at the time.

As our time was drawing to a close he asked me “so what is it that you do?”

I responded “well, I want to do what you do – make a positive impact in the lives of young men.”

I went on to share my struggles to find a role in the area and the opportunity I’d been offered. He listened intently and validated what I’d been feeling throughout the journey. He encouraged me to keep my head up, continue looking, and let me know he’d keep an eye out for opportunities in his network and let me know if anything came up. After another “bro hug” I left Richland High School feeling a bit more at ease about my circumstances. 

Having the opportunity to speak to someone who understood what I was up against – someone who wasn’t dismissive of what I was feeling – left me feeling hopeful about however my story would unfold. If nothing else, I’d met a wonderful mentor in Coach Bacon. 

I put my head down and continued my role as a pest control technician. If you know, you know. It isn’t the most fun job, but I was doing what I had to do to help pay the bills. But there are always those days in any role where you just feel done. Whether it be the work, itself, or the people you’ve interacted with throughout the day – you’re just DONE. 

This was one of those days. It was mid-July. It was hot. And I was done. After a long day, I pulled my company truck into our spot at our apartment complex. I shifted into park, and just sat there, staring straight out the windshield. Before my mind could begin to drift, my cell phone started ringing.

I grabbed it and looked at the number. I could tell the number had to be from a school district. Those of you who have been in this school job hunt situation know what I’m talking about. Those numbers just scream “ANSWER ME”. I didn’t know who it was but I was definitely about to take this call.

I answered, “Hello, this is James.”

The voice on the other end of the line said, “Yes, is this Coach Whitfield?”

Pleased to hear the “Coach” in front of my last name I responded “yes, this is he.”

The caller went on “Well, Coach Whitfield, this is Coach Bacon at Richland High School. I just had an assistant coach accept a head coaching role at another school and have an opening. Didn’t you say your certification is Social Studies Composite?”

Trying my best to hold back my excitement I responded, “Yes sir, Social Studies Composite.”

Coach Bacon then said, “Good, that’s what I thought. I have a role for you at Richland High School if you’re still looking.”

After all the hell I’d been through I was having a hard time believing what I was hearing.

I replied, “Yes sir! I’m definitely interested. When do you need me to come in for an interview?”

The next words he uttered I’ve carried in my heart since, “Coach, you interviewed the day I met you.” A great reminder that first impressions are so very critical.

Impact

And, just like that, the whole trajectory of my life changed. I called Coach Johnson and let him know how my circumstances had changed. Those in hiring positions know how much this call can rain on your parade. But Coach Johnson was who I’d come to know him to be – that guy that always spoke life into me. He congratulated me and expressed how happy he was for what this would mean for my family. 

I let him know just how much I appreciated him taking a chance on me. We vowed to remain connected as our journeys continued to unfold. 

Over the next seven years I was able to do that which I’d sought out to do, teach and coach. As it turned out, after our first year in 05-06, we’d go on to win numerous district championships, play in prestigious tournaments, and make it to the state playoffs year after year. I was able to teach so many wonderful young people and work with amazing colleagues throughout the course of my time at Richland High School. None of which would’ve happened without Richard Bacon, a Black man, taking a chance on another Black man and speaking life and power into him.

I’m a better educator, man, and leader because of these two phenomenal Black men! They represented possibilities for me in a world that had largely dismissed me as “not the right fit”. They saw me, heard me, empowered me, and encouraged me. Ultimately, their mere presence, at various points in my life, helped push me defy the statistics. 

All students deserve a Coach Bacon and Coach Johnson, yet they make up less than 2% of the teaching population. Along my journey I’m consistently see the systemic barriers along the way that deny students access to such educators. We must address this disparity to ensure all students have access to diverse and talented educators to help them reach their full potential. This requires investments in teacher training and support, as well as intentional outreach and recruitment efforts to attract and retain Black male teachers.

To all the Richard Bacons and James Johnsons out there – I hope you know your value and worth. We love and appreciate you. I hope you know we see you for the great impact you make in the lives of our youth. We hear you. We see you.  Thanks for giving me a chance to give as you have. I carry your strength, resilience, and love with me as I try to make a difference for kids.

Impact Educator of the Week

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There are certain people who, the moment you’re in their presence, you feel the most pure joy. They exude a positive aura that is simply contagious.

I’d like you to meet Mrs. Robinson.

As we approach a full year since we transferred Landon to our neighborhood school, I wanted to take a minute to highlight just how much of a difference one can make.

As many of you may remember, this time last year was tough – very tough. The normal we’d known was gone. Our days looked very different. Landon has always been my little sidekick, but during this tim he clung to my side even tighter. While he didn’t know the extent of what was happening, he knew something wasn’t quite right. But we pressed on.

As we transitioned to his new school, I’d walk with him each morning – one of the silver linings of the moment. Every morning, at the crosswalk to enter school, there stood a woman with an energy that was off the charts. She knew every kid’s name. She offered a hi-five or a fist bump to each student and shared how happy she was to see them each morning. Rain or shine, she was there. I remember thinking ‘surely she’s not this happy every morning’ – she’d prove me wrong. She was. Pure joy and positive energy every morning. Consistent and persistent with the joy!

Now, if you know Landon, you know he’s a pretty reserved little guy…until you really get to know him. Initially, he seems quiet and shy, but once he lets you in, you see the funny, silly, bright, and lovable little dude he is.

We started this school right after Thanksgiving break of 2021. Despite my numerous pleads with Landon, he’d merely walk right by Mrs. Robinson most days, giving her a head nod, at most. I’d give Mrs. Robinson a look that signaled ’I promise he’s not rude’. She’d just smile and say “it’s okay. I’ll get to him.” And she persisted. Every single day. Her love and joy for Landon and every single kid, no matter their response, was evident each morning.

Fast forward to early in the spring of the 21-22 school year. Landon, without a prompt from me, walks up and gives Mrs. Robinson the biggest hi-five followed by a “Good morning, Mrs. Robinson!” I was shocked. After responding, “Good morning, Landon! Have a wonderful day!”, Mrs. Robinson simply looked over my way and winked as she held her post in the middle of the drive. I told her “thank you for not giving up on him.” To which she responded, “oh, I never give up. I always get em”, with the biggest smile on her face. I walked back home, heart full, knowing someone like her was there for my little guy each day.

Persistence. Consistency. Refusing to allow a single kid to fall through the cracks. Ensuring my kid, and every single kid, feels visible before they even enter the building each day.

To every Mrs. Robinson out there – THANK YOU! Thank you for your willingness to spread joy. Thank you for your consistency and unwavering commitment to ensuring all students feel like school is a safe and welcoming place. Your presence is greater than any program can offer. There’s no way to truly quantify the impact you’ve made in countless young people’s lives. Thank you for being you!

If you’ve encountered a Mrs. Robinson in your school experience or with your own student, I’d love to hear about them. Drop them some love in the comments. And, if nothing else, please be sure to reach out and let them know the extent of your love and gratitude for their presence in your life.

Thank you, Mrs. Robinson! We love you!

Mrs. Robinson