How Attacks on Critical Race Theory Are Affecting Teachers
Marissa Dillon teaches AP English Language and Composition in West Virginia.
She has been an educator for eight years, including six years at the high
school level and two as an adjunct at Marshall University:
CRT – Three little letters that create responses from anger to confusion. If
someone asked educators what CRT stood for, even just a few months ago, many
would say culturally responsive teaching—a way to meet all student needs
through their background. Far from the big scary concept that some deem these
letters to represent.
In the legal world, CRT stands for the ethical framework of critical race
theory. This theory is not taught in K-12 schools. However, because political
leaders and select national news stations have used the acronym of “CRT,” no
one knows what it actually represents; it has been simplified to just three
letters. This is rhetorical redefinition at its finest. Because this concept
is shortened to three letters, someone can create new meaning—even inserting a
conglomeration of made up information. The acronym definition becomes broad,
allowing anyone to fit their own implications onto it, with some in power
indicating that it is used in schools to discuss a growing range of concepts
such as white privilege and white guilt. Parents have been swayed by
self-serving politicians and media outlets to believe the CRT boogie man is in
their local schools. In my state of West Virginia, our legislators passed a
bill fueling this rumor—the boogie man is hiding in classroom bookshelves.
While the language may seem open-ended at first, West Virginia’s recently
passed Senate Bill 704 creates an atmosphere of distrust between parents and
educators. It requires that classroom teachers “comply with the requests of
parents/custodians/guardians of enrolled students to inspect county
board-adopted instructional materials, supplemental instructional materials
which do not require the approval of the county board, and books available in
their classroom for students to read.”
One major component of this legislation is that if a parent requests, an
educator must explain how books relate to content standards, and if a teacher
does not comply with any of the requirements, a parent may file a complaint
with the county superintendent. This bill creates an undue burden on
educators, especially for those of us who have multiple bookshelves in our
classroom with an array of literature for students to read, even just for
enjoyment. While educators can ask that parents make an appointment to review
books in the classroom, the language of this bill is not based on a trusting
relationship. This distrusts comes from the fear of CRT.
Many see this bill as harmless and ask, why shouldn’t parents have access to
what their child reads? I always encourage students to discuss their learning
at home and have always provided a list of required readings for them—this
relationship building and conversation creates an atmosphere of trust. A bill
making these requirements compulsory and putting the responsibility on the
educator, creating language to “comply” with parental request, already
displays suspicion, which stems from the redefinition of CRT. Because many,
especially social studies and English, educators began providing lessons on
systemic racism, politicians who want to hold on to power sensed that history,
or even their positions, were being called into question and they became
fearful, claiming that educators were teaching CRT. They began attacking
teachers for educating students and providing them books of high interest such
as The Hate U Give, How to be an Anti-Racist, among others. Educators in rural
areas of West Virginia have been condemned for having students read these
books when they should be applauded for allowing students to broaden their
minds and study a differing worldview from their own.
At a recent education conference, I witnessed the phenomenal Principal Kafele
provide a keynote address. He spoke on the CRT scare fueled by the news and
politicians on parents and communities, stating that educators are not
teaching CRT but are simply teaching American history. Many of these books,
lessons, and pieces of history need to come to light, need to be taught, but
those in power fear this light shining on their own racist actions. Therefore,
they divert it away using fire and brimstone language to engulf public
education, while educators try to douse the flames of misleading discourse. As
we continue to battle these attacks, we will rebuild from the ashes of
distrust and continue to educate our students.
Kathryn Vaughn is an elementary art educator and writer from rural west
Tennessee. She has taught for over 17 years and is a passionate advocate for
public schools and maternal health:
When I first heard the term “critical race theory,’ in the spring of 2021, I
must confess, I had to Google it. It was not something I was familiar with in
my 17 years of teaching elementary art in rural west Tennessee. I immediately
thought “the fuss about this is ridiculous, we don’t even teach this in
elementary school.”
My own state representative was the sponsor of the anti-CRT bill that flew
threw the Tennessee state legislature so quickly educators could hardly get
their thoughts together on what this legislation would look like in their
classrooms in the coming years.
Concerned and having questions about the bill, I signed a letter with my
friends, in the Tennessee Educators of Color Alliance, asking our governor to
veto the bill. At the time, I didn’t understand what an intense issue CRT
would become and how people would react to my name being on the letter asking
for a veto. The bill was signed into law.
Over the summer of 2021, I received harassing messages online from leaders in
my community’s local Republican Party telling me that they knew I opposed the
bill and asking why I was OK with CRT being taught in our schools. I explained
that CRT wasn’t in our schools or in my curriculum, and they called me stupid
and told me it was sad that a teacher couldn’t recognize the “woke Marxism
movement,” that they were sure was taking over our schools.
Back to school time in August of 2021 felt heavy. The COVID-19 delta variant
was running rampant in the community, the governor took masks out of our
schools, and the political extremism on the right was ramping up as school
began. I started to feel nervous about my safety in the community; I was nine
months pregnant with my first child at the time and still getting threatening
messages about CRT online. A concerned friend gave me a bottle of pepper spray
for my purse, the president of the local chapter of the NAACP had words with
Republican leaders to leave me alone, and my husband accompanied me everywhere
I went in public. My superintendent even wrote a piece for the local paper to
try to calm the community and assure them that district curriculum was far
from the liberal indoctrination they were led to believe.
The storm of animosity toward educators continued to build, I decided to
change things in my classroom so that my lessons were beyond reproach. I knew
under this new law, I would be a target. I shifted my focus from art history
to just teaching art techniques; without the context of the artists who used
them, my lessons felt hollow. I took down several pieces of modern art off my
classroom walls. Gone were the prints of artwork by Frida Kahlo, Jean-Michel
Basquiat, Shepard Fairey, and Amy Sherald. I left only classical landscapes. I
published all my lessons online so that if disputed I could easily show
exactly what I was teaching at a moment’s notice. I packed up my classroom
library and stored it out of sight from the eyes of my wonderfully curious
students and went on my maternity leave.
When I returned from leave later that fall, things had calmed down in the
community. People had found a new boogeyman, and the Republican Party had even
issued a statement on their social media apologizing to teachers and claiming
to support them after being called out in the national press. The CRT bill is
still on the books and now the Age Appropriate Materials Act is also being
implemented and shutting down classroom libraries across the state as book
bans take over the national narrative.
I no long teach the way I was trained. I no longer share the incredible
stories of overcoming injustice that many artists faced and that my students
relate to. I no longer experience the immense joy I used to feel in my
classroom. The joy I felt is replaced with fear of backlash from the outrage
culture that has taken over our country, fear of losing my livelihood before I
even have the time to pay off my student loans. I like many other teachers I
know am looking for a way out of education, but I doubt I will ever leave. You
can’t change the system from the outside so I choose to stay and fight.
Erica Buchanan-Rivera is an educational equity scholar, consultant, community
organizer, and author of the newly released book, Identity Affirming
Classrooms: Spaces that Center Humanity. She has served in education as a
teacher, principal, director of curriculum, adjunct professor, and is
currently a director of equity and inclusion in a P-12 public school district
in Indiana:
As a director of equity and inclusion in a metropolitan school district in
Indianapolis, I have not experienced significant backlash from anti-CRT,
ideological groups while leading systematic, anti-racist efforts. Although
anti-CRT movements have been prevalent in Indiana and neighboring counties,
the blatant attacks against educators and push for curricular censorship has
not been commonplace in the community where I work. There are many factors
that contribute to the climate of Washington Township schools, including
courageous leadership, proactive work to dispel misinformation, and strong
community partnerships.
Prior to the start of the last school year, district leaders developed
intentional approaches to help staff understand the definition and existing
misconceptions of critical race theory. Considering how oppositional groups or
individuals have co-opted culturally responsive teaching or social-emotional
learning as tenets of critical race theory, it was important to equip teachers
with resources and language to respond to questions or critiques.
Community education was also devised in the form of a public statement that
was supported and signed by multiple school-community organizations. The
district provided information about the origin of critical race theory, while
making it clear to community stakeholders that an identity affirming school
system does not disregard the racial experiences or histories of students.
With the rise of anti-CRT bills in Indiana (which did not pass), the district
also made a bold move to publicly denounce censorship legislation through the
adoption of a resolution. Washington Township was one of two school districts
in Marion County that opposed anti-CRT legislation.
Prior to working in the Washington Township district, I served as a chief
equity officer in a predominantly white, suburban community in Hamilton
County, Ind., where I often encountered racism and targeting from right-wing
groups. Although I enjoyed my work with students, teachers, staff, and
families, I chose to leave and work in a district with equity-focused leaders
who would provide support and embrace anti-racist practices as “collective”
work—not my work. Leadership matters.
It makes a difference to work in a school community where leaders (e.g.,
school board members, superintendents, directors, principals, etc.) are
committed to the work of honoring the full humanity of youth and make their
stance on anti-racism unapologetically clear to stakeholders.
Bill Ivey (he/any) is middle school dean and teaches Humanities 7, Rock Band,
and Academic Skills at Stoneleigh-Burnham School, a gender-inclusive girls’
school for grades 7-12 in western Massachusetts:
First, I need to recognize my privilege: I am a white person who teaches in
one of the most liberal regions of Massachusetts, in a progressive independent
school that has committed to teaching criticality, “the capacity and ability
to read, write, think, and speak in ways to understand power and equity in
order to understand and promote anti-oppression.” (Muhammad, quoted in
Ferlazzo). Furthermore, I have a degree of economic privilege in that my kid
is all grown up and I am gradually nearing retirement. Moreover, I was raised
to see, and resist, systemic racism, and I have many people in my on- and
offline lives from whom I am continually learning.
That said, the attacks on critical race theory have certainly affected what I
do in my 7th grade classroom. Far from limiting it, they have expanded it. My
students want to know the truth about what it is and why so many people are
opposed to it, and exploring their questions adds another layer to our ongoing
study and discussions. We’ll often start with them sharing what they know and
what questions they have.
I’ve long been teaching my students about Kimberlé Crenshaw and
intersectionality, so that’s a strong anchor point to discuss critical race
theory. An example I’ve often used is that in practice, our legal system works
like a series of sieves: More Black people are detained than whites; of those
detained, more Blacks are arrested than whites; of those arrested, more Blacks
are charged than whites; of those charged, more Blacks are convicted than
whites; of those convicted, Blacks are given longer sentences than whites; of
those seeking parole, Blacks win their appeals less often than whites. We’ll
talk about how individual bigotry on the part of some police officers, judges,
and/or jurors can’t alone explain this pattern and thus that there must be
something about the system itself contributing to these outcomes. Critical
race theory, as it was originally conceived and taught, focused on these
systemic inequalities. At this point, students often ask, “Isn’t it taught in
law schools?” and, of course, the answer is yes. At the same time, more
broadly speaking, systemic racism can (and I would argue must) be part of the
curriculum for students of all ages, those who experience it directly and
those who do not. My students and I will talk about this distinction.
In teaching students about the source of the attacks on CRT, I reference
Christopher Rufo’s tweet: “The goal is to have the public read something crazy
in the newspaper and immediately think ‘critical race theory.’ We have
decodified the term and will recodify it to annex the entire range of cultural
constructions that are unpopular with Americans.” (Rufo, quoted in Jones)
Besides offering a chance to discuss what Rufo means by “Americans,” this ties
into broad questions my students bring up every year about how disinformation
is created, believed, and spread, and how it can be resisted. My students
quickly realize that, in discussions about CRT, it’s important to find out
what different people think it means. That of course does not automatically
lead to agreement. But it does at a minimum mean each person in the
conversation knows where the other person is coming from. This, too, is an
important skill for navigating what are often referred to as “difficult”
conversations.
For young adolescents, identity development (another piece of Gholdy
Muhammad’s HILL model) is critically important, as is questioning and
understanding how the world works. It’s also a time of life when commitment to
justice and resistance to injustice is especially strong. Studying critical
race theory and how the national conversation about it has been shaped can
help my students grow in all these areas.
