Standing at the back of the room was a stunning black woman with a beautiful warm smile.  I did not know who she was when we first started talking but within moments into our conversation, I realized that I was standing in the presence of greatness.  This woman's warm, eloquent, and intelligent aura was all consuming.  I was talking to Dr. Leona Tate, one of the brave little girls who alongside of Tessie Provost, Gail Etienne, and Ruby Parks desegregated NOLA’s public schools at the tender age of 6 years old on November 14, 1960.  As we continued to talk, I felt the lump in the throat grow and the tears in my eyes pool.  I struggled to keep my composure as this kind, gentle woman told me that she was so happy to have me spend time in the Tate, Etienne and Prevost Center in New Orleans ward 9.  Dr. Tate shared her recent travels with me and told me that she wasn't feeling well. She then went on to say that while she was "normally a hugging person there wouldn’t be free hugs today."  We laughed and I found myself speechless.  I could barely say thank you as emotion surged through my being.  Somehow, I found my voice to thank her for welcoming me to which she again graciously thanked me for coming.

As I walked away, I struggled to pull myself together confronted with my own realities and lived experiences. I was running through the lists of opportunities and affordances that I have had in my life. I was ruminating on what right did I have to be in this sacred space at the TEP Center. I mean how did I, a white girl from the most easterly tip of North America, wind up delving into the complex educational landscape of racial inequity in the lower ninth ward of New Orleans? My thoughts were dominated with questions about my own racial realities and cultural privileges. I was riddled with guilt. I struggled with what possible role, or right, do I have in conversations about racial inequity alongside of what do I respectfully do with this experience?

As that day progressed, Dr. Tate shared parts of her personal story. She eloquently answered questions about her six year old self and the experiences she had as a little girl who helped to desegregate schools in the deep south. Her bravery and compassion was effusive, and her words were a poignant reminder of the capacity of humans to help or to harm.

Four weeks have past, I find myself replaying my conversation with Dr. Tate, alongside of the broader deeper learning experience in NOLA.  Dr. Tate's eloquent words frequently materialize in my mind, "keep going, it is struggle... tell the story of what happened to do better for all kids." As I think about Dr. Tate and others at the TEP Center who shared their stories, it is the unsaid that continues to unravel pieces of my heart.  How is it that I did not know of three other brave little girls, along with Ruby Parks, who opened “the doors to school equality” (Nelson & Bostic, 2023) in New Orleans sixty four years ago?   How many other stories am I completely unaware of and why is it that some stories get incredible airtime while others don't?

Dr. Tate and my personal experiences at the TEP Center impel me to think about the multiple representations of identity that we all hold as humans. It is easy to move into a "not me, not mine" perspective when faced with the complexities of racial inequity and cultural privilege. It is uncomfortable to recognize that there is light and dark to all our beings. It is difficult to acknowledge that there are soft and hard edges to all experiences. It requires bravery and humility to express how joy and heartbreak encapsulates all of our respective lived realities. Having a clear sense of our own ethnic and cultural identities impacts who we are as educators, parents, community members, family members and humans.

Learning in real time about how the past shapes the present presses educational leaders into uncomfortable spaces where we are affronted with our own biases, belief systems and lived experiences. The immersive NOLA deeper learning experience taught me how the actions of the past and present collide to narrate new stories of hope, possibility and opportunity. How we tell the story matters and how we listen to the stories told matters. How we proceed in our lives once we learn new stories is a transformative turn key. When asked what is needed in schools to move forward on the journey towards equity for all children, Dr. Tate shared with a beautiful smile, “I wasn’t raised to hate someone because of the colour of their skin. I believe if we start with love, with all of our little babies and go up, it will work its way out, hate will work its way out. It starts with us, right now. Tell the story. Tell your story.” 

So what is your story? I am learning that leading for equity is critical and this work needs to be strategically embedded in an organization's systematic decision making processes. From teaching and learning to finances and human resources, core decision making processes must consider the landscape of equity and inclusivity alongside of systems of advantage and disadvantage. Wheatley and Dalmau's (1983) 6 circle model of navigating and leading complex systems is an important reference for educational leaders who are committed to equity in our schools.

Thinking carefully about adaptive leadership and continuous improvement are ways that educational systems can ask hard questions about change processes. How are you working on improving your school system while at the same time transforming individual learning experiences so that educational excellence is achievable for every child? Are the words improvement and transformation synonymous when you consider how to enhance the work you are doing?

In a recent conversation with a mentor and trusted colleague my thinking was challenged. We were discussing the relationship between school improvement and educational transformation. Prior to this conversation, I would have argued that transformation is the ultimate goal in education. I once emphatically thought that in order to do better we just have to change everything. After this conversation, I am realizing that in a publicly funded Canadian system we have to find ways to engage deeply in continuous improvement cycles that lead to greater change while working within the dimensions of the current system. This does not mean that we do not commit to transformative changes and to improving outcomes for every student. By starting with believing that every child is full of endless potential, educators are positioned to see how school life can be full of endless possiblities. Change begins here when we commit to seeing the unlimited potential of every child in our care (R. Ferguson, 2017).

What is an equitable school?

Operationally, equitable schools provide the climate, processes and content which enables students and staff to perform at their highest level. Equitable schools ensure successful academic outcomes by providing equitable resources and appropriate instructional strategies for each student.

Learning about our own intersectional identities will help leaders better understand our own possible biases, our own stories and how this in turn positively or negatively impacts the decisions we make. This is not easy work, but committing to making decisions that ensure every child is prioritized and valued is essential. In Dr. Tate's poignant words, "it starts with us, right now. Tell the story. Tell your story.”  So, what's your story?