Social Solidarity

Here is a thought experiment: Imagine America without public education. It’s a desolate view, with a tiny percentage of youth enjoying the best education money can buy and large swaths of lower-income families struggling to find even minimal educational services as the neighborhoods now known as food deserts also become education deserts. Democracy and faith in a prosperous shared future would be impossible dreams. Human inventiveness would wither. Care and compassion would be left on the doorstep of the good society to die a slow death. Without a shared space to forge a shared story, almost all the things that matter would be left to fate and force.

We write the story of us together. Our shared story is what infuses our social contract with expectation, enthusiasm, and empathy. But today, our social contract is desperately frayed and in need of reaffirmation and redesign if we are to forge a future in meaningful and peaceful dialogue with each other.¹ American democracy is in peril: 64 percent of Americans believe our democracy is “in crisis and at risk of failing.”² We need a vision of education that is democratic in the fullest and best sense—capable of igniting and sustaining students’ capacities for freedom through social solidarity and honest inquiry. The surest way to ensure that democracy triumphs and thrives in an inclusive, tolerant, and enlightened civil society is to free the human mind to do what it does best—imagine, share, and dare to challenge authority and outworn ideologies.

Unfortunately, too many students are not getting the preparation they need to be informed and active citizens. Many don’t know the basics of government,³ have little grasp of history,⁴ and experience little of democratic life in their schools.⁵ If we are to create schools that will rebuild solidarity and reinvigorate democracy, we need to empower the whole educational community, including the students. We are not born democratic citizens; it takes practice. Schools and classrooms should be forums for debate, school governance should be based on power sharing, and freedom of expression should be celebrated.

So much of what we see in education policy and politics is about fiscal efficiency, power and powerlessness, and sorting and selecting students to succeed in the great race to affluence. We need a new narrative of hope that is imagined, promoted, and enacted by those whose fidelity to justice and inclusion is evident every day with real students. We are a polarized nation; the rebirth of social solidarity will begin with those who know all children can learn and who have the emotional and intellectual fire to imagine schools as communities of hope where human solidarity flourishes.

The Bonds That Unite Us

One of my first experiences as a teacher was being assigned an experimental fifth-grade anthropological studies course called Man: A Course of Study⁶ that was designed by the famous child psychologist Jerome Bruner. Over the year, students were to learn about the life of the Netsilik people, whose home is the Arctic region in Canada, through filmstrips, maps, songs, class activities, and readings. I was more or less clueless about how to teach this course. The class materials were very sophisticated, and my kids came from homes where books were in short supply. But they were eager to learn. We decided to turn our classroom into a living museum; we painted the walls and windows to look like a Netsilik village, complete with igloos, polar bears, reindeer, and a piercing blue northern sky lit by a huge yellow sun.

Every student was a member of the village, with a name and a role to play. It wasn’t long before we began to learn from the inside out. The Netsilik people weren’t the “other”; they were us. The students kept journals about their lives, families, hopes, and fears. If they felt moved to do so, they shared their stories. There was rhythm to our learning. Everyone was somebody. Most of all, we had fun. Lots of laughter and failing to sit in one place for more than 45 minutes. It wasn’t long before some of my more conservative colleagues reported me to the principal, who poked his head in the classroom, looked around, smiled, and left without a word. We benefited from benign neglect. The bonds that were created in that classroom ignited deep learning because we touched our shared humanity in a spirit of solidarity, curiosity, and joy.

Today, the bonds that unite us are more important than ever. In this age of uncertainty, polarization, and conflict, can we hold on to our democracy? Can we live peacefully with others? Can we reinvent ourselves? As two democracy scholars studying the impact of polarization found,

The United States is in uncharted and very dangerous territory.... There are no peer analogues for the United States’ current political divisions—and the track record of all democracies does not provide much consolation.... Pernicious polarization is a uniquely corrosive and dangerous force in democracies.⁷

Our growing fear that “the center cannot hold”⁸ is coupled with a growing distrust of our public institutions and of each other. A 2020 study found that “anxiety over misinformation has increased alongside political polarization and growing fragmentation of the media. Faith in institutions has declined, cynicism has risen, and citizens are becoming their own information curators.”⁹

When basic social trust is washed away by unmet needs and unceasing conflict, social collapse is a stark possibility. But it is not inevitable. Social strength and optimism run deep in American democracy. We thrive when we are socially attached. The groundbreaking scholarship of such creative and scientific authors as Michael Tomasello (Becoming Human),¹⁰ Joseph Henrich (The Secret of Our Success),¹¹ and Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson (Why Nations Fail)¹² has opened our eyes and hearts about our capacity for unity and renewal. Although we are polarized today, reuniting may not be as difficult as it seems. Our similarities are still far greater than our differences.

Sociologist and physician Nicholas A. Christakis drives home that point in his 2019 book, Blueprint: The Evolutionary Origins of a Good Society. He writes:

My vision of us as human beings ... holds that people are, and should be, united by our common humanity. And this commonality originates in our shared evolution. It is written in our genes. Precisely for this reason, I believe we can achieve a mutual understanding among ourselves.¹³

He bases this optimistic vision of a shared humanity on his study of communities around the world. His research reveals that societies prosper when they forge a vibrant and shared “social suite” characterized by:

1. The capacity to have and recognize individual identity
2. Love for partners and offspring
3. Friendship
4. Social networks
5. Cooperation
6. Preference for one’s own group (that is, “in-group bias”)
7. Mild hierarchy (that is, relative egalitarianism)
8. Social learning and teaching¹⁴

Christakis’s finding is important for us as educators as we create schools where all children thrive and where, in the words of one school superintendent in the South, “all means all.”¹⁵ The social suite he describes is the foundation for creating learning communities anchored by social attachment and solidarity. When schools develop cultures of attachment and solidarity as their heart and soul, restructuring can begin in earnest.¹⁶ The ties that bind us weave together to form social solidarity, which is the very fabric of a strong, productive society and of schools where shared learning ignites the genius of all children. As three professors of social sciences and philosophy explained:

Social solidarity is not simply a sentiment; it is also a structure of social relations. It needs to be rebuilt at the scales of local communities, national institutions, and the many kinds of intermediate associations in between.¹⁷

Our public schools are our most unique and important invention for creating communities where all children matter and where a lasting spirit of solidarity creates an enduring learning culture of hope and shared intellectual adventure.

Creating Schools of Social Solidarity

Several years ago, a Michigan foundation asked me to study high-poverty schools and assess the impact of their programs on student achievement and well-being. I visited schools in the major cities and the less-traveled agricultural parts of the state. I talked with teachers and students, sat in on lessons, read strategic plans, and interviewed school administrators.

In the course of my research, I visited two schools in Detroit, both located in communities of concentrated deep poverty. One school felt like a jail: guards at the door, broken windows, security cameras in the halls, and locked classrooms. Students and teachers were depressed and angry. Fights erupted even as I interviewed the principal. Evidence of learning was absent; survival mattered a great deal more. The young people attending this school had been deeply betrayed (not just by their school system but by all of us for allowing such schools to exist), and the teachers in the school felt frustrated by a learning culture that was socially fragmented and troubled. Not many blocks away was a school with no guards, open doors, few security cameras, and a gallery filled with student artwork. There was laughter in the halls; classrooms were alive with learning, and the bonds between the teachers and students were evident. The principal came from the neighborhood and spoke glowingly of the school’s students as “our kids.” Before leaving for the day, he invited me to join him for a student pep rally. The teachers were ready to rock and roll, trying hard to dance to the good-hearted amusement of the students. The place radiated with the energy and joy of happy young people celebrating life. Everyone was somebody. Social solidarity was experienced as shared joy.

We know how to create schools of social solidarity. The conceptual and practical tools are within our reach. We know from social science that human solidarity is founded on a social suite infused with a natural desire for attachment and bonding, and we know from the new science of learning and development that all children can learn. In the words of two scholars at the forefront of this science: “Effective learning depends on secure attachments; affirming relationships; rich, hands-on learning experiences; and explicit integration of social, emotional, and academic skills.”¹⁸ Building on this knowledge, we can create schools that are second to none for all children based on clear, empirical, straightforward design principles.*¹⁹ In my study of deep poverty schools, I discovered that the most important design principles for creating schools of social solidarity are compassion, inclusion, and identity-safety.²⁰

Compassion is the heartbeat of community: We are wired to connect to each other,²¹ but without compassionate communities—where we empathize with one another and are moved to act on behalf of those who struggle—the basic trust that bonds student to teacher and student to student will remain conditional. Perhaps author Frederick Buechner said it best: “Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace or joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”²² How can we unlock the genius of children if we don’t include them in our circle of compassion? Being compassionate doesn’t mean we ignore self-destructive behaviors, or that we don’t hold high academic standards, or that we substitute real change for a soft racism and classism that says the right things but does nothing to dismantle racism and classism in practice. Compassion is the emotional fuel that fires real change.

Inclusion is the weaver of connections: To make a real difference, our circle of solidarity must be as wide as possible and include as many people as possible; in a school setting, this means all students and all adults—including family and community members. A 2012 article in the equity-focused journal Kairaranga described four essential elements for inclusion: relationships, shared experiences, a sense of belonging, and advocacy for changes that value all equally.²³ When these elements are working together, they enable transparency, honesty, and openness. The word kairaranga is Maori, used by the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand to mean a “weaver of family connections.”²⁴ This evocative phrasing echoes bell hooks’s definition of the beloved community as being created “not by the eradication of difference but by its affirmation, by each of us claiming the identities and cultural legacies that shape who we are and how we live in the world.”²⁵ The powerful and poetic South African expression Ubuntu also captures the deep meaning of inclusion: “I am what I am because of who we all are.”²⁶

Today, the term inclusion also signifies the right of all people to be full members of society. The United States has a tragic history of discriminating against and excluding from opportunity people of color and people who lack material resources (among others). As we examine how to create inclusive high-quality schools, the words of equity and diversity scholar H. Richard Milner IV illuminate our thinking: “Every child matters regardless of … [their] race, gender, sexual orientation, language, religion, geography, zip code, social status, or poverty status.”²⁷

Identity-safety is the love of somebodiness: Today, social solidarity is under threat from forces determined to limit the rights of families and children to affirm their identities. No school community can be a place of trust and learning if the identities and self-worth of its members are under attack. Talking with the students at Barratt Junior High School in Philadelphia in 1967, Martin Luther King Jr. brought to life the inner meaning of identity-safety:

Number one in your life’s blueprint should be a deep belief in your own dignity, your own worth and your own somebodiness. Don’t allow anybody to make you feel that you are nobody. Always feel that you count. Always feel that you have worth, and always feel that your life has ultimate significance.²⁸

The identity-safe classroom fosters relationships based on trust, support, and mutual respect.²⁹ Being affirmed is inseparable from being recognized—from within and without—as somebody.

What We Can Do Now

For the last several years, I have immersed myself in the world of high-poverty schools to better understand how we can create schools that are second to none for all children—schools that anchor their communities, enable all children to follow their dreams, and build social solidarity by emphasizing our common humanity. As I visited schools, I wondered why some of them were depressing and disengaged while others were joyful and on fire with learning. In time, the answer became obvious: smart districts invest in their communities and avoid seemingly magical solutions pushed from afar by consulting companies. Authenticity and candor empower us to move from “I” to “we”—the real educational revolution we need today.

Solidarity Strategy One: Connect at a Deep Level

Several years ago, I visited a school that taught me the importance of connecting to students on a deep level. I arrived early in the morning and parked my rental car near the front door next to a police car. For children living in poverty and deep poverty, police are a daily presence—so I wasn’t surprised, but I was saddened. Not too far away was a large turkey processing plant in full operation. In the distance, I could hear the whine of traffic along the interstate running just north of the school. The school seemed to have been forgotten in time; poverty and neglect cemented into its weathered facade. When I opened the front door on that hazy morning, I expected to find a depressed institution, academically wandering—but I was wrong. Schools are more than buildings; they are the expression of a community’s hopes no matter the odds. True, the school needed paint. It needed heat. It needed better lighting. But from the moment the principal shook my hand and welcomed me in front of a wall of student art, it felt like this school knew where it was going and why it was making the journey.

I followed the principal and his leadership team into the “media center.” Unfortunately, somewhere along the bureaucratic trail someone in the state department of education had not found the time or resources to provide the school with new books or working computers. But this little school on the “outskirts of hope”³⁰ was anything but hopeless. The students weren’t problems; they were young people bursting with potential. The educators had established a covenant relationship with their students despite the obstacles. They had connected with their students at a deep level.

I sat in on a math class where the students learned to play chess. The lively classroom buzzed with the sounds of learning, including happy chatter, laughter, and an occasional shout of unexpected understanding. Chess boards were on every table, and a set of division problems was on the blackboard. The teacher was neither a “sage on the stage” nor a “guide on the side.” She was the lead musician in a learning jazz ensemble, listening, explaining, and correcting in near perfect rhythm with her class. The word synchrony came to mind. (Not surprisingly, her students did very well on the state standardized math exam.) Connection is the human electricity of learning. Unless we connect at a deep level with our students and develop their capacity for connectedness, we will struggle to find common cause.

Solidarity Strategy Two: Cultivate a Shared Humanity

In the play called school, everyone has a part according to a script written in an unspoken code that is easy to feel but hard to define. In one school day, comedy, tragedy, happiness, sadness, boredom, and excitement can all erupt. Human emotions are not obstacles to creating inclusive and positive learning environments; they are the heartbeat of schools where people young and old can recognize our shared humanity and find lasting friendships.³¹ How we treat each other matters.

Often glimpses of our shared humanity come in ways that are unexpected and spontaneous. In my second year as a teacher, I found myself teaching a civics class of restless eighth-graders who were struggling to learn the three branches of government. In the back was a tall boy who, given his age, should have been in high school. He was a talker. Asking him to stop pestering the students around him was a losing battle, but no matter what he did, I kept trying to get to know him.

During one class break, he asked if I would like to arm wrestle. He was smiling. At least he was talking with me. I decided to take a chance and agreed. I don’t know what I expected, but he let me win without even trying. It was his way of apologizing for being a thorn in my side. He never became a model student, but from then on, he tried hard in class, and I learned a lesson: social and emotional health in schools doesn’t come in preordered packages with lesson plans. It grows from within when it is nurtured by authenticity, humor, humility, and our shared humanity.

Solidarity Strategy Three: Create Community Schools

While there are many ways for schools to connect to their communities, there is one model that is unusually effective: the equity-driven community school. In a comprehensive review of the evidence from more than 140 studies, scholars found that community schools liberate learning and enhance lasting connections between students, families, and communities.³² Community schools that fully embrace their neighborhoods, and are dedicated to the fundamental values of fairness and excellence, educate all children in an atmosphere of care and compassion. Their doors are open year-round, from dawn to dusk, and on weekends. They elevate family and community members’ voices, welcome diversity, and empower teachers and students to create learning communities that are alive with the hopefulness that springs from the freedom to experiment and innovate. Equity-driven community schools build bridges across communities and cultures by providing wraparound services, culturally sensitive extended learning opportunities, and an inclusive vision of education where no child is excluded from learning because of their race or their family’s economic situation (or any other aspect of their identity or background).

One community school I visited enrolled students living in isolated neighborhoods that lacked essential services and were plagued by the wave of opioid addiction that has long beset our nation. The school reached out to the local United Way, which offered to fund the salaries of a trained family social worker and a psychologist. The message was clear: there’s no shame in seeking help. The counseling the school provided built bridges to families that otherwise would not have been able to afford the services their children needed to overcome the allure of escaping into addictive drugs.

The promise of equity-driven community schools has grown into a national movement. New York City operates over 400 community schools,³³ and more than 100 school districts around the country have taken the community school strategy to scale.³⁴ California, Maryland, New Mexico, New York, and Vermont have launched statewide community school initiatives because of the mounting evidence that building bridges to families and communities results in more successful students and greater social cohesion.³⁵

Solidarity Strategy Four: Embrace Justice and Healing

Today, over two million Americans are imprisoned.³⁶ Many inmates began their journey to incarceration in school because of minor infractions that were criminalized rather than resolved through mediation and reconciliation.³⁷ Unfortunately, there is some evidence that biases that pervade our society are also in our schools. For example, a study found that preschool teachers reported more supposedly bad behavior among all Black children and among Hispanic children from low-income families than among white children—despite researchers seeing no differences in behavior—and that impacts continued into elementary school, with increased disengagement and reduced performance.³⁸ Another study found that Black students in middle and high school are far more likely than white students to be suspended for things like using their phones in class or violating the dress code.³⁹

The late philosopher John Rawls asserted that “Justice is the first virtue of social institutions.”⁴⁰ Schools are social institutions; a school that is not just has lost its way. Schools of solidarity are founded on principles of justice, fairness, and a belief in redemption. There are many ways justice can become infused into a school’s culture through connection and communication. Restorative justice is one way to move a school culture from punishment to healing because it provides a path to a genuine accountability and reconciliation process that connects all those who have a stake in a just and educational outcome.⁴¹ One recent report found that:

Creating a restorative environment in which students learn to be responsible and are given the opportunity for agency and contribution can transform students’ social, emotional, and academic behavior and their academic outcomes.⁴²

Turning injustice on its head by elevating understanding and healing is a solidarity strategy that can transform a school on the verge of social collapse into a community of care and compassion.

Solidarity Strategy Five: Lead from the Heart and Head

The vast literature on school leaders reveals that they can be autocratic, bureaucratic, coaches, pacesetters, servants, visionaries, and (from time to time) heroic. I confess that having survived numerous leadership fads and witnessed the work of some great school leaders and some less-than-great leaders, I have come to the conclusion that labels aren’t always helpful. What matters is authenticity, moral purpose, and the ability to communicate. Is this person an I leader or a we leader?⁴³ Leaders of schools of solidarity must be we people by definition because compassion, inclusion, and identity-safety are collective values that need leaders who embody them.

If we are to transform the under-resourced, struggling schools so many children must endure, we need highly motivated moral leaders who think systematically and have a deep affection for the communities they serve. This sounds like a superhuman standard, but happily it is not. We leadership is bone deep for those who believe all children can learn. It is time to think big, adopt an asset-based approach to student learning, and “re-culture.” This winning solidarity strategy was expressed well by one district administrator:

Before you restructure, you really have to re-culture. When you hear little flag statements like, “Well my children” or “these children,” you pick up right away where their bias is. That’s not acceptable. We’re not the ones saying, “Well our kids can’t do this” or “We can’t do this; why would we do this?” We always say, “Why wouldn’t we? Why wouldn’t we do this for all of our kids?”⁴⁴

Exactly. Why wouldn’t we do this for all kids? We need a new generation of leaders if we are to create a system of high-quality schools for all children. The time has come to develop community-based school leadership programs that enroll local people who are racially and economically diverse and understand what it means to be marginalized.

A New Narrative of Hope

Today calls for courageous optimism and a renewed faith in ourselves. It is educators—and the students and families they forge bonds with—who have the vision, experience, and wisdom to renew ourselves and create schools of social solidarity and, in time, renew our democracy. Educators have been silenced for too long; this must end because educators have the power to transform society from the inside out. The time has come to listen to those who know what children need and have the energy and imagination to turn classrooms into oases of learning where all children belong.

Teachers are natural advocates for those who have been silenced and made invisible; they know everyone is somebody. Today, there are those who want to continue to silence the life of the mind by banning books, instituting racist curriculum, and monitoring teachers’ personal lives. Educators can push back on injustice by creating curricula that tell the complete story of America, including its glorious moments and its shameful ones. Educators can ask hard questions about why schools serving students living below the poverty line receive less funding than other schools.⁴⁵ And through their unions and community partnerships, they can center families’ voices in demanding answers.

Taking collective action, educators, families, and community members can ask why there are so few teachers and school leaders of color in schools where the majority of students are of color. They can support children living in poverty and deep poverty by promoting access to safe housing, public transportation, nutritious food, and medical care. They can also question why schools that serve students living below the poverty line so often lack up-to-date libraries, computers, and other instructional materials. In short, educators in collaboration with family and community members can become the standard-bearers of basic fairness.

Justice is not a thing; it is a process. It is time to embrace a new, hopeful narrative of the human journey in the spirit of solidarity and somebodiness.

Peter W. Cookson, Jr., is a senior research fellow at the Learning Policy Institute and teaches at the McCourt School of Public Policy at Georgetown University. A former elementary and middle school teacher, he is the author of 20 books, most recently School Communities of Strength: Strategies for Educating Children Living in Deep Poverty.

*For an in-depth look at these design principles and the science behind them, see “All Children Thriving” in the Fall 2021 issue of  American Educator: aft.org/ae/fall2021/cantor. (return to article)

Endnotes

1. P. Cookson, “The Yellow School Bus: A Model for Equity,” Education Week, January 7, 2024, edweek.org/policy-politics/opinion-the-yellow-school-bus-a-model-for-equity/2014/01.

2. J. Rose and L. Baker, “6 in 10 Americans Say U.S. Democracy Is in Crisis as the ‘Big Lie’ Takes Root,” Morning Edition, NPR, January 3, 2022, npr.org/2022/01/03/1069764164/american-democracy-poll-jan-6.

3. Nation’s Report Card, “NAEP Report Card: Civics; Achievement-Level Results,” National Assessment of Educational Progress, nationsreportcard.gov/civics/results/achievement.

4. Nation’s Report Card, “NAEP Report Card: U.S. History; Achievement-Level Results,” National Assessment of Educational Progress, nationsreportcard.gov/ushistory/results/achievement.

5. A. Fletcher, “Student Voice Is NOT Democracy,” Adam F.C. Fletcher (blog), March 28, 2013, adamfletcher.net/2013/03/28/student-voice-is-not-democracy; and A. Fletcher and J. McDermott, Democracy Deficit Disorder: Learning Democracy with Young People (Lausanne, Switzerland: Peter Lang, 2023), peterlang.com/document/1334750.

6. J. Bruner, “Man: A Course of Study,” Occasional Paper No. 3, Educational Services Inc., National Science Foundation, June 1965, files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED178390.pdf.

7. J. McCoy and B. Press, “What Happens When Democracies Become Perniciously Polarized?,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, January 18, 2022, carnegieendowment.org/research/2022/01/what-happens-when-democracies-become-perniciously-polarized.

8. S. Simon, “Opinion: Reading William Butler Yeats 100 Years Later,” NPR, November 28, 2020, npr.org/2020/11/28/939561949/opinion-reading-william-butler-yeats-100-years-later.

9. M. Dimock, “How Americans View Trust, Facts, and Democracy Today,” Trust Magazine, Pew Research Center, February 19, 2020, pewtrusts.org/en/trust/archive/winter-2020/how-americans-view-trust-facts-and-democracy-today.

10. M. Tomasello, Becoming Human: A Theory of Ontogeny (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2019).

11. J. Henrich, The Secret of Our Success (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015).

12. D. Acemoglu and J. Robinson, Why Nations Fail (New York: Crown Business, 2012).

13. N. Christakis, Blueprint: The Evolutionary Origins of a Good Society (New York: Little, Brown Spark, 2019).

14. Christakis, Blueprint, 13.

15. F. Williamson, former superintendent of schools, Hoke County, North Carolina, interview by P. Cookson, November 2021.

16. P. Cookson, “Reculture Before You Restructure,” Voices in Education (blog), Harvard Education Press, August 1, 2024, hep.gse.harvard.edu/blog/2024/08/01/reculture-before-you-restructure.

17. C. Calhoun, D. Gaonkar, and C. Taylor, Degenerations of Democracy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 2–3.

18. L. Darling-Hammond and C. Cook-Harvey, Educating the Whole Child: Improving School Climate to Support Student Success (Washington, DC: Learning Policy Institute, September 2018), 1, learningpolicyinstitute.org/media/547/download?inline&file=Educating_Whole_Child_REPORT.pdf.

19. Learning Policy Institute, Turnaround for Children, Forum for Youth Investment, and SoLD Alliance, Design Principles for Schools: Putting the Science of Learning and Development into Action (Palo Alto, CA, and Washington, DC:September 2021), k12.designprinciples.org.

20. P. Cookson, School Communities of Strength: Strategies for Educating Children Living in Deep Poverty (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press, 2024).

21. S. Allen, “How Biology Prepares Us for Love and Connection,” Greater Good Magazine, February 24, 2022, greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/how_biology_prepares_us_for_love_and_connection.

22. F. Buechner, “Compassion,” November 15, 2016, frederickbuechner.com/quote-of-the-day/2016/11/15/compassion#:~:text=Compassion%20is%20the%20sometimes%20fatal,joy%20finally%20for%20you%20too.

23. C. McMaster, “Ingredients for Inclusion: Lessons from the Literature,” Kairaranga 13, no. 2 (2012): 11–22.

24. Oranga Tamariki: Ministry for Children, “Kairaranga ā-whānau,” Practice Centre, New Zealand Government, practice.orangatamariki.govt.nz/core-practice/working-with-maori/how-to-work-effectively-with-maori/kairaranga-a-whanau.

25. b. hooks, Killing Rage: Ending Racism (New York: Owl Books, 1996).

26. J. Rich, “Embracing the Spirit of Ubuntu,” HuffPost, October 22, 2012,huffpost.com/entry/ubuntu_b_1803189.

27. H. Milner IV, Rac(e)ing to Class: Confronting Poverty and Race in Schools and Classrooms (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press, 2015), 3.

28. Editorial Board, “The Day Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Came to Barratt Junior High,” Tampa Bay Times, January 18, 2021, tampabay.com/opinion/2021/01/18/the-day-dr-martin-luther-king-jr-came-to-barratt-junior-high.

29. D. Steele and B. Cohn-Vargas, Identity Safe Classrooms: Places to Belong and Learn (Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin, 2013).

30. L. Johnson, “Annual Message to the Congress on the State of the Union,” January 8, 1964, American Presidency Project, University of California, Santa Barbara, presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/annual-message-the-congress-the-state-the-union-25.

31. Darling-Hammond and Cook-Harvey, Educating the Whole Child.

32. A. Maier et al., Community Schools as an Effective School Improvement Strategy: A Review of the Evidence (Palo Alto, CA, and Boulder, CO: Learning Policy Institute and National Education Policy Center, December 2017), learningpolicyinstitute.org/media/137/download?inline&file=Community_Schools_Effective_REPORT.pdf.

33. New York City Public Schools InfoHub, “Office of Schools for Community Supports and Wellness,” New York City Department of Education, infohub.nyced.org/in-our-schools/working-with-the-doe/community-schools.

34. P. Cookson and L. Darling-Hammond, Building School Communities for Students Living in Deep Poverty (Palo Alto, CA: Learning Policy Institute, May 2022), learningpolicyinstitute.org/media/3705/download?inline&file=Building_School_Communities_Deep_Poverty_REPORT.pdf.

35. Cookson and Darling-Hammond, Building School Communities.

36. Sentencing Project, “Growth in Mass Incarceration,” sentencingproject.org/research.

37. Education Justice Research and Organizing Collaborative, “Ending Student Criminalization and the School-to-Prison Pipeline,” New York University, steinhardt.nyu.edu/metrocenter/ejroc/ending-student-criminalization-and-school-prison-pipeline; and U. Ofer, “Criminalizing the Classroom: The Rise of Aggressive Policing and Zero Tolerance Discipline in New York City Public Schools,” New York Law School Law Review 56, no. 4 (January 2012).

38. National Institute of Mental Health, “Study Furthers Understanding of Disparities in School Discipline,” June 14, 2022, nimh.nih.gov/news/science-news/2022/study-furthers-understanding-of-disparities-in-school-discipline.

39. M.-T. Wang and J. Del Toro, “For Black Students, Unfairly Harsh Discipline Can Lead to Lower Grades,” American Psychological Association, October 7, 2021, apa.org/news/press/releases/2021/10/black-students-harsh-discipline#:~:text=Overall%2C%20the%20researchers%20found%20that,a%20cell%20phone%20in%20class.

40. John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971), 3.

41. S. Klevan, “Building a Positive School Climate Through Restorative Practices,” Learning Policy Institute, October 28, 2021, learningpolicyinstitute.org/product/wce-positive-school-climate-restorative-practices-brief.

42. Cookson and Darling-Hammond, Building School Communities.

43. W. McCormack, “From I to We: Robert Putnam and Shaylyn Romney Garrett’s Vision for a New Civic Community,” New Republic, September 17, 2020, newrepublic.com/article/159276/the-upswing-book-review-robert-putnam-shaylyn-romney-garrett.

44. Hoke County School District administrator, interview by Learning Policy Institute research team, February 2020.

45. B. Baker, M. Di Carlo, and M. Weber, The Adequacy and Fairness of State School Finance Systems, 6th ed. (Washington, DC, Miami, FL, and New Brunswick, NJ: Albert Shanker Institute, University of Miami School of Education and Human Development, and Rutgers Graduate School of Education, January 2024), schoolfinancedata.org/the-adequacy-and-fairness-of-state-school-finance-systems-2024.

[Illustrations by Anna Godeassi]