Original Sins: The (Mis)education of Black and Native Children and the Construction of American Racism by Eve Ewing
“The concept that schools are complicit in the maintenance of a bad thing is contrary to the most basic idea that supposedly animates education in the United States. We are told that schools are supposed to be places that inculcate fairness, where our life outcomes are tied to our individual efforts. But, on the contrary, schools have been shaped by the same ideas that drove European colonists to stake property claims on faraway Indigenous lands and the ideas that shaped the formation of the Middle Passage. These original sins did not take place in a discrete moment of time; they linger, they fester, they grow and morph and change. They persist and persist and persist. They shape the tenor of our public discourse, the architecture of our buildings and towns and neighborhoods, the stories we are told, and the schools to which we send our children.”- Eve Ewing, from the Introduction to Original Sins.
Although Ewing’s book is replete with scholarly sources and
research, she also makes it accessible by looking for modern equivalents and
making the examples and ideas relevant to today’s teachers. I also appreciated
her historical perspective that moves in a chronological timeline, but also
tackles issues in education from the different, yet related experiences of
Native and Black students. Her chapters start with the founding of America, and
how historical figures like Thomas Jefferson promoted ideas about racial
inferiority to develop and maintain the system of chattel slavery. Furthermore
by promoting an exclusive idea of education that focused primarily on classical
education, mathematics, and history, American schools also became sites of
exclusivity and elitism, where education was mainly offered to rich, white
families, and the occasional top white student from a regional area. I really
appreciated learning more about the evolution of American education, and in
particular the views and ideas that Jefferson promoted. Furthermore Ewing notes
how Indian boarding schools developed, mainly from a prison in Florida that
relocated some Indigenous People who rebelled against their forced relocation.
This was interesting to me because I just read about Fort Marion in Tommy
Orange’s book Wandering Stars. As Ewing notes, the attempts to
“civilize” Indigenous People began in a prison where the philosophy was “kill
the Indian, save the man”, as well as other sentiments like “The only good
Indian is a dead Indian.” American schools have continued to perpetuate this
ideas in various ways, both intentionally and unintentionally. Ewing’s
organization, moving from the history of slavery and dispossession to the
segregated schools and Indian boarding schools, eventually leads to modern
applications of control and attempts to “civilize” through education. As
someone who has worked in education for my entire career, I’m familiar with
some of the attempts to “control” that Ewing describes in her chapters about
school. She recounts a personal experience about her school’s attempts to
“scare students straight” by taking a field trip to the local jail, not
considering the experiences of students whose parents and relatives have been
incarcerated. Whether justly or not, this kind of experience, confronting the
loss of a family member, is sure to hit students hard, especially those who
might not have the emotional vocabulary to grapple with this kind of loss and
confrontation. I know that my former students who had relatives who were incarcerated
didn’t really talk about it, and often struggled to really articulate their
feelings, which were most likely complicated and deep. I also didn’t know much
of what to say, not always aware of their experiences. Nevertheless, Ewing’s
alternative field trip to view a documentary provided a better alternative for
her students, and one that didn’t necessarily come with a emotional toll. She
also explores the school to prison pipeline, noting how this unjust phenomenon
has become more and more a part of the discourse on education of minority
students, especially as we learn how they are more likely to face time out of
school due to suspensions and other disciplinary actions that white students
typically do not face at similar rates. As I read these sections, I was
reminded of Monique Morris’s excellent and important book Pushout that
examines the unfair treatment of Black girls in schools. Ewing explores similar
injustices and biases in schools, especially how Black children often face
adultification, where whites typically view behaviors and actions of Black
children as older. These kinds of biases lead to different treatment, not only
in schools, but also in the justice system. I was unfamiliar with this term,
but I can see how it happens in many schools, and how it leads to a lack of
second chances or opportunities when Black children make mistakes. Ewing also
explores how often programs and teaching methods are implemented for Black
children that do not allow for any kind of autonomy or free expression. Rather,
methods like SLANT (sit up, listen/lean forward, ask questions, nod your head,
track the speaker) are reinforced in many schools to promote an attention
control for many minority students. I was so glad to see pushback on Doug
Lemov’s Teach Like a Champion, which was a popular book at a school
where I taught. While there are some useful strategies and suggestions, much of
the book operates on a deficit approach of students, assuming that they lack
any kind of willingness or initiative to learn, and as a result, they need to
be trained to follow these behavioristic methods. Ewing’s critique was
validation of those who believe that all students have the right to autonomy
and how important that kind of autonomy and creativity will be in their future
careers. Even though this critique was brief and succinct, I really appreciated
reading it.
Other instances of control focused on more choices of
personal expression, especially around important characteristics like hair,
where I feel like there is always a story about a student being forced to cut
their locks or afro. As Ewing noted in earlier chapters, this was often one of
the first steps taken at Indian boarding schools, where children were shorn
like animals, with little regard for the cultural significance of their hair or
for their own feelings or personal autonomy. Ewing references Foucault’s theory
of discipline and punishment to explore how the control of the body seeks to
also alter the soul. As sad as it is, I agree with her analysis in many of the
instances of school where the emphasis is on discipline and “no excuses” that
largely seek to control behavior or shape behavior into what is the expected
learning standards, at least from a white perspective. There’s no real
consideration for learning styles that might vary or be different, that
emphasize a sense of the collective group as opposed to individual responses.
While there have been some shifts away from these no excuse schools and
incorporation of more culturally relevant pedagogy, that need to control
students’ bodies still exists and plays a significant role in shaping their education.
The conclusion of the book presents some ways to move
forward and heal, presenting ideas of solidarity and acknowledgement of the
hurt and harm both Native and Black people have endured and possibly inflicted
upon one another. I loved this section, as Ewing presents a theory of not only
unity, but also resilience. She also affirms the idea of thriving and how
building on that kind of solidarity helps to facilitate thriving, rather than
looking at blame or victimhood as a kind of zero sum game. In particular, she
emphasizes an ethic of care, which I have always tried to make a part of my
pedagogy. I loved that she brings this idea to addressing the kind of
injustices that Native and Black students have faced in order to move forward
and thrive. She couples this ethic of care with the collective struggle, in
that we work together towards a common end, recognizing our similarities over
our differences. Again, I loved this idea, and I think it is important to look
towards commonalities as opposed to differences. Ewing’s ideas reminded me of
the kind of collective struggle that the Brazilian educator Paulo Freire
advocated when he likened education to a road that we make by walking. The idea
was that our experience and knowledge help to create the path, and that we
collective make our way on a shared journey. This is really important because
it seems like education is too often viewed as a precious commodity or a finite
resource, allowing others with the means to take more than is needed. It’s
important to recognize that education is a right, and that all people should
have this right. In other sections, Ewing’s ideas about the kind of
revolutionary changes needed for school reminded me of Davidson’s ideas about
institutional unlearning, even making the case for abolishing school in order
to create a new educational institution that meets the needs of all learners
and operates under more fair and just precepts. Ewing’s final metaphor is to
liken teaching and learning to braiding, which is an important practice to both
Native and Black cultures. Furthermore, the idea of braiding is seen as a kind
of communal act that brings us together, strengthening our bonds. I thought
that this was such a great metaphor or symbol to use. I kept thinking about a
recent visit to the Polynesian Cultural Center in Hawaii where we learned about
the different cultures of the islands in Polynesia. In Tahiti, we learned about
braiding grass fronds, and my kids were so interested in the process. It seemed
so natural and common to the Tahitians working there, but it took us some time
to learn the process of hooking the two pieces together to create a kind of
strong bond. Ewing uses a great quote from Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding
Sweetgrass, which is the third time I’ve come across this book in the past
2 months. I can see how Kimmerer’s idea of braiding, not just the product, but
the process and the community involved, would be a great way to consider
teaching and learning, and how these two ends can be tied closer together when
we focus more on commonalities and communities. Eve Ewing’s book Original
Sins is a very important book that is necessary for new teachers to read,
but also important for others involved in caring and education, especially
parents and other stewards of communities. She not only raises awareness about
the unjust history of how capitalism stole bodies and land, and how schools and
education were complicit in furthering this kind of theft, but she also
explores how current practices in schools have been influenced by these injustices.
This book is rich with details and explores research and ideas from Native and
Black scholars, adding an integral perspective that is not always given the
kind of amplification it needs. I loved how Ewing challenges popular
perceptions of schools as the great equalizer, bringing history, statistics, and
anecdotes to challenge this myth of meritocracy, and to share how not everyone
shares the same kind of educational experiences. I highly recommend this book
as an important text for anyone involved in education or community work.
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