A Call to Disrupt the Deprofessionalization of Teaching

As a former high school English teacher, substitute teacher, community college instructor in developmental studies, and researcher who has spent hundreds of hours observing classrooms and interviewing teachers, students, caregivers, policymakers, and leaders, I am deeply concerned about the deprofessionalization of teaching and the attacks on practices that ensure all students feel safe, have an opportunity to learn about current and past truths about the United States, and are able to experience a robust curriculum that allows them exposure to a diversity of texts. I have never known educators to be more afraid to do what they know to be right for young people regarding the design, promotion, and enactment of learning opportunities that are truthful, just, and appreciative of diversity (particularly regarding history, race, sexual preference, and gender).

At the same time, I know that educators are strong, caring leaders in their classrooms and communities. And I believe that as a society, we can still co-create spaces where communities come together to make society better: to support educators as they teach truth and to push back against policies designed to perpetuate and reify lies. In light of progress our society made in the past to reduce bias, I am confident that we can make progress again even in the midst of polarizing attempts to separate us from truth, justice, democracy, possibility, opportunity, and healing.

The deprofessionalization* of preK–12 teaching in recent decades has opened the door to current attacks on teaching and teachers, including unfounded accusations of teaching critical race theory and unfortunate attempts to narrow the curriculum^† and ban books. Curriculum narrowing and book banning most directly impact students of color and LGBTQIA+ students because materials reflecting these students’ experiences, identities, and worldviews are most likely to be pushed out of schools.² At the same time, these attacks on the teaching profession bring to the forefront a key issue: the role of families and communities in deciding what is, is not, should be, and should not be taught in schools.

Although most people have a perspective on what should or should not be taught in school, too few people really know or understand what is taught in preK–12 schools in the United States. Because of this, the public can be bamboozled and coerced into believing just about anything about curriculum practices. (To be clear, teachers tend to design learning opportunities to build students up, not tear them down.)

In response, it may be tempting to require that all course content and teaching techniques be approved in advance by school boards and/or administrators and shared online with the public, but I argue such reactions would stifle the very purpose of schooling. Indeed, I have found curriculum and instructional practices must vary as teachers work with young people whose needs and identities are diverse (and whose questions are unpredictable). Students vary in terms of their race, ethnicity, first language, socioeconomic status, ability status, gender, sexual preference, religion, politics, values, and beliefs. Given these rich, robust differences among young people, curriculum and instruction should respond to students being taught at any particular time.³

And yet, we all have a right to know what is being taught in our public schools and to contribute to discussions of what ought to be taught and how. Therefore, the role of families and communities in curriculum development and implementation is a complex issue to consider: While it is not effective to have rigid, pre-planned curricula that do not respond to students’ differing needs, and while one person should not be able to restrict what another person’s child learns, we all need to work together to solve disagreements over curricula so that all students experience a well-rounded, truthful, opportunity-centered education. This can only occur in classrooms, schools, and communities that welcome exchange of  ideas and advance truth—even uncomfortable truth—in pursuit of a democracy where people have divergent views but do so in a civil and civically responsible manner. This will not be easy in 2024, but we must try. In fact, our young people deserve our best efforts to work with them to cultivate learning opportunities that maximize their brilliance, their diversity, their hopes, their dreams, and their varied, intersecting identities.

Young people need, deserve, and should expect our unwavering courage, confidence, truth-telling, and modeling of leadership during these times of polarizing politics, harmful practices, and magnified trauma from reinvigorated racism, anti-Blackness, and anti-LGBTQIA+ bias. Leadership now means we are, in the words of the scholar and civil rights activist James Baldwin, willing to “go for broke”⁴ in the fight for what we know to be necessary to make schools places where young people—all of them—feel safe, are psychologically and mentally healthy, and know they belong as they bring their full beings into learning environments. Educators may or may not have experienced racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, or other forms of discrimination themselves. But they can commit to their students, schools, and communities and embrace their responsibility to create spaces where young people think, question, critique, learn, develop, experience joy, and improve every single day.

As a consultant to school districts across the country, I am the first to admit that it is not easy to educate communities about what actually is taught in schools. But helping families, parents, and communities build knowledge about curriculum and teaching practices can be done. This work starts with inviting community into schools. To be sure, I believe families and communities have a right to know what is going on in schools, and I believe educators have a right to share realities about what they teach (curriculum) and how (instruction). This dialogue between educators and communities can help build or rebuild trust as families and educators support young people in their learning and development.

In this essay, after sharing a bit about unfounded accusations related to teaching critical race theory and attempts to narrow curriculum and ban books, I offer examples of what I believe we can do as a nation committed to justice and equity in education to address these two challenges. I hope educators (across roles, disciplines, regions, races, genders, sexual preferences, grade levels, and political affiliations), family members, parents, communities, and policymakers are better able to capture the moment in which we live to find common ground for the sake of  young people who deserve an education that maximizes their humanity. But first, I share a bit about who I am in the work of education.

Positioning Myself in the Work of Education

It is essential that we educators position ourselves in building and disseminating knowledge.⁵ When I was a student growing up in the deep south of Griffin, Georgia, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, teaching was viewed as a well-respected profession. Teachers were lauded in my community. They were celebrated for their knowledge, their community involvement, and their relentless commitment to supporting young people inside and outside the classroom. When I was in elementary school, almost all my classmates and teachers were Black. My teachers were no-nonsense. They had extremely high expectations, developed rigorous curriculum practices, usually lived in the community where they taught, and were active in their community as they showed up and participated in afterschool activities—sponsored by the school and otherwise. Further, these teachers purchased materials for students in their classrooms and were eager to support families when needs emerged. Perhaps most importantly, my parents, who were actively involved in my education and success, rarely questioned the curriculum in school. There were a few occasions where my parents had conflicts with my teachers about teachers’ decisions that my parents found unfair, but they did not have questions about curriculum practices. My parents seemed to have faith, confidence, and trust in what my teachers taught—and why they were teaching it and how.

My mother owned and operated a beauty salon and was a hairstylist in the community. She dressed many of my teachers’ hair over the years. I vividly recall how she and other patrons talked about, yielded to, and celebrated the teachers who frequented her salon. It was in fact the community’s respect for and admiration of my teachers, combined with their professionalism, that propelled me into the profession of teaching. Once I became a high school English teacher, I too experienced a level of trust and admiration from families and community members.

I was also a community college instructor working in developmental reading; I taught students who graduated from high school but were unable to enroll in credit-bearing college courses due to the significant literacy challenges they faced. Since becoming a professor of education, I have spent hundreds of hours in teachers’ classrooms observing their practices, from elementary to middle to high school.

Although I never saw myself as the arbiter of curriculum practices—one who was all-knowing about what should be taught—when I was teaching high school, family and community members seemed to believe in my school and all of the educators within it. I would have welcomed questions about what I was teaching from the families I worked with, but this was not something I experienced as a teacher. In fact, I could usually rely on parents to support me in challenges I was experiencing with students. Parents routinely worked with me to help build appropriate adaptions for their teens. However, currently, teachers seem to be experiencing the opposite of what I found as a child and in my experiences as a teacher of English language arts in a high school. Many families and communities seem to have a deep distrust for teachers and are even angered by what students are exposed to in schools.

Knowing what can be accomplished when teachers and families work together, I’m especially disheartened by the disrespect of teachers that seems to have grown dramatically in recent years. I support the idea that families and communities have a right to question what is taught—but I do not believe families and communities (or any entity) should ridicule, ostracize, or degrade what teachers teach—particularly without data to substantiate their actions. Looking at criticisms many teachers are facing today, I’m deeply concerned about how classroom conditions may be deteriorating and about the harms coming to the very students those critical family and community members are trying to protect—and to the students (mainly Black and LGBTQIA+ students) most critics seem to disregard.

Deprofessionalization of Teaching

What is leading to the deprofessionalization of teaching and why does it matter? A likely reason teachers have been attacked for what they teach in preK–12 schools is that we had begun to see progress toward creating safe, affirming, and welcoming spaces for students who had long been placed on the margins of learning. For instance, after the murder of George Floyd, the United States seemed to engage in a moment of reflection about just how far we had not come as a nation regarding the lives and bodies of those most marginalized, such as Black folks. Although short lived, we collectively took a step back to question how police officer Derek Chauvin could literally murder George Floyd in 2020 while video cameras recorded it.

Born out of what appears to be fear of progress toward racial justice, many conservatives orchestrated a campaign suggesting that teaching honest history and current events to young people would somehow result in their turning unpatriotic or against police. Similarly, as some people became aware of books in school libraries that are supportive of gay and trans youth, they claimed that some teachers are pedophiles grooming children or that the books have harmful, sexually explicit content that is not age appropriate. In my experience, such lies are only able to proliferate because our nation has yet to confront and name the ways in which race and racism, homophobia, and other forms of discrimination still permeate in the United States.

Unfounded Accusations of Teaching Critical Race Theory

Teachers are being accused of teaching critical race theory in preK–12 schools. These claims have been, as far as I am able to determine, under-substantiated. Critical race theory is a theoretical framework that emerged from critical legal studies; it is employed by researchers and higher education professors and students to examine evidence and build conceptual arguments about the role, salience, and permanence of race and racism across different disciplines. As a seasoned teacher educator, I cannot name one teacher education program in the United States preparing teachers to teach critical race theory to preK–12 students. Moreover, having read many volumes of research about teaching and observed many schools and classrooms, I cannot point to one practicing preK–12 teacher teaching critical race theory. This should not be surprising. Frankly, it is absurd to think that our mostly white teaching force⁶ is advancing an agenda of critical race theory in preK–12 schools. (However, if students in preK–12 schools were taught about critical race theory, I suspect there would be situations where they could benefit if their teacher were knowledgeable and skilled enough to convey its tenets in a developmentally appropriate manner.)

Why does the perpetuation of this unfounded accusation—that preK–12 teachers are teaching critical race theory—matter so much? I argue that this lie is being perpetuated to increase distrust for teachers and teaching. The resulting stress of  teaching, dramatically increased by intensified scrutiny and surveillance, will likely push teachers into other fields. Similarly, students may decide not to enter teaching. With inadequate pay for the work compounding the stress, why would capable adults select teaching as a viable profession?

Counterproductive Challenges to Curriculum and Books

Another issue contributing to the deprofessionalization of teaching is the push from those outside education to narrow curriculum and ban books. Curriculum narrowing occurs, for instance, when teachers are not able to teach the truth about the enslavement of Africans (Americans) and the theft of land from Indigenous people. Narrowing curriculum to paint a one-sided picture of the United States is a dangerous practice that takes curriculum decision making away from teachers. Deprofessionalization occurs when teachers are not able to make decisions in the best interests of their students and when curriculum is narrowed away from truthful—albeit challenging—accounts of racism, xenophobia, homophobia, and other forms of oppression that shape students’ experiences. This is especially harmful to the students whose truth is no longer allowed in the classroom, but it is damaging to all.

Consider how negatively Black students are often portrayed in education, media, and society writ large. Inclusive curriculum practices have the potential to disrupt, nuance, or at best counter negative portraits and narratives of Black students not only historically but in the present day as well.⁷ Literature that in some communities has been censored or pushed out of the curriculum can offer broadening and nuanced views that are meaningful not only for Black students but also for other students (particularly if other students have internalized the notion that Black people are inferior or incapable). Moreover, books that showcase the brilliance of Black communities and individuals help students move away from the notion that whiteness is the gold standard—the norm others should follow and pursue⁸—and demonstrate that strengths and assets are common and manifest across different and diverse communities. Reading banned books such as Toni Morrison’s Beloved (1987), Richard Wright’s Black Boy (1945), and Alice Walker’s The Color Purple (1982) can provide insight for readers by revealing how individuals’ actions are deeply shaped by social realities in which they live.

Likewise, book banning and related curriculum censorship of LGBTQIA+ experiences can be extremely harmful for young people who already feel ostracized, invalidated, confused, unworthy, and marginalized in a society that purports egalitarianism yet continually develops and implements policies and practices to the contrary. The cumulative impact of these slights can have devastating effects. For instance, a 2023 study found that “81% of transgender adults in the US have thought about suicide, 42% of transgender adults have attempted it, and 56% have engaged in non-suicidal self-injury over their lifetimes.”⁹ Rather than making up the truth or speculating about curriculum related to LGBTQIA+ themes, we should learn from literature, which documents hate crimes,¹⁰ hostile school climates,¹¹ and missed opportunities for inclusive curriculum.¹² In essence, curriculum and related books that show LGBTQIA+ students in positions of strength and thriving can be powerful moments for them to find commonality through difficult times and situations. These curriculum opportunities can be especially essential for young people in the LGBTQIA+ community who may feel unsupported in their homes or broader communities. Put simply, the banning and censorship of humanizing and transformational LGBTQIA+ books and curriculum materials can be a matter of life or death. Thus, teachers should be supported and lauded, not vilified, in their practices to help students find worth, affirmation, and agency in a society that pushes people out rather than brings them into communities of care, safety, acceptance, support, and hope.

In short, I have found that students discover their identity, strength, possibility, hope, joy, and dreams in and through curriculum that is broad, deep, and well-rounded—curriculum in which they see themselves and learn about others. Thus, curriculum practices are not inconsequential. Curriculum practices matter deeply to what students learn (and how and why) and who they are and become.

Where Do We Go from Here?

In an era of intensified curricular misinformation and book banning contributing to the deprofessionalization of teaching, we need to consider ways to better collaborate with and regain the trust of our communities. To help teachers disrupt deprofessionalization of teaching and support next generations of young people who will surely need tools to navigate an increasingly divided society, I recommend that we (1) situate and substantiate curriculum decisions in data, especially by listening to and learning from students; (2) cultivate opportunities for students to engage civilly with others; and (3) organize curriculum showcases for the public to learn about what is actually happening in schools.

Situate and Substantiate Decisions in Data

As people and organizations advance agendas that impact student learning and consequently student wellness, it is essential that educators ground and substantiate their curricular decisions in data. To be clear, data are not just representations of numbers. The most powerful data source we can learn from is students. Schools must learn from students’ and teachers’ voices, collected and analyzed in a systematic way, to help the public understand what is being taught and why.

Because adults make policy and practice decisions about what students experience, it is critical that we build mechanisms to listen and learn from what students tell us about what they need and why. What do students say about the books they read? How do students understand and represent history? As we learn from students, educators need to build repositories so that families have access to what students say about what they experience in schools.

Centering voices of  young people would inform curricular decisions in a meaningful way. For instance, when a member of the community wants a book to be banned, shouldn’t analysis of that demand begin with hearing from students who have studied the book? How would the debate shift if a book that presents LGBTQIA+ people in a positive light were challenged by some members of the community but then supported by students as centering kindness, joy, and resilience? Would the challengers maintain their positions if they understood how the book—and the related curriculum practices allowing students to openly discuss the book—helped students deal with real-world stressors, trauma, and anxiety? How many people who critique curriculum practices would argue against practices that young people say give them tools to work through challenging situations rather than attempt suicide?

Cultivate Opportunities for Students to Engage Civilly

As schools are building tools for young people to share their feedback about what they are learning and how they are experiencing education and sharing that feedback with families and communities, schools need to concurrently help students build tools to engage with each other during these deeply polarizing times. The point of equipping students to engage civilly is not to force them to believe or follow any predetermined worldview. Rather, the point of cultivating opportunities for students to engage with each other is so they learn how to disagree without defaulting to toxic discourse that may lead to troubling actions.

In 2008, I worked with high school students to develop Project TALK (Thinking, Acting, Learning, Kindness).¹³ The project emerged after the school’s administration approached me about a fist fight that almost began in the cafeteria. Two high schoolers (friends who were both on the school’s basketball team) were in strong disagreement about the upcoming presidential election. Although neither student was old enough to vote, they almost fought because one (a Black student) supported Barack Obama and the other (a white student) supported John McCain.

Project TALK has a leadership team of students who decide on pressing topics that may be polarizing, difficult to discuss, or controversial in society and/or their school. Topics have ranged from immigration, poverty, and presidential elections to racism, gender, and homophobia. Completely student led, the project occurs several times a year with student facilitators leading the discussion without adults in the room. In preparation, I train students on how to pose questions and help student leaders build the capacity to help students express their views on topics in civilly appropriate ways. There are several curriculum anchors to get discussion moving among students; these include statements that allow students to agree, somewhat agree, or disagree; what-would-you-do videos, student-written vignettes, and scenarios that invite responses; and anonymous student surveys with results open for group discussion. I have found that Project TALK has helped students engage with each other, which is especially important now as far too many adults seem to be struggling to talk with each other with kindness and dignity.

Organize Curriculum Showcases for the Public

Because most Americans do not really know what is taught in schools, we must rebuild trust in educators to teach and create ongoing structures to help families and communities understand the range of what is happening in schools. I encourage schools to organize quarterly curriculum showcases where educators and students demonstrate what they are learning (books they are reading, projects they are completing, and so forth) and why. In addition to hosting showcases inside the school, educators should consider holding showcases at school board meetings and in open sessions in local libraries to reach as many interested community members as possible.

These showcases would offer families and communities a firsthand snapshot of student learning and an opportunity to raise their concerns. Instead of assuming that, for instance, learning about Jim Crow indoctrinates students in an unpatriotic view of America, community members could ask students and teachers about their class discussions. Do some students feel more patriotic as they see the progress that has been made in the past century? Do they feel more hopeful that today’s injustices can be overcome? Curriculum showcases could also highlight what research tells us about human development and ways to support students inside and outside school. As families and communities gain a clearer sense of what is being taught in schools, they should be encouraged to use this information to pose questions, make suggestions, and become partners in deciding what students should learn in school. This clarity will likely increase trust in teachers and reduce challenges to what is taught. But even when these showcases lead to disagreements about curriculum content and instructional practices, they are an important way of involving the community in education and building communicative channels. Moreover, rebuilding trust with educators can reduce the deprofessionalization of teaching.

To deepen discussions of what is and should be taught—to shift the conversation from controversial topics and books to the very purpose of education—educators and school leaders may want to engage community members in discussions of reflective questions such as the following:

• How do we build a school and classroom culture that recognizes and honors the humanity of all?
• What issues can unnecessarily divide us, and what unites us in schools, classrooms, local communities, and society?
• What assets do each of us bring into the school and classroom and how might we showcase, build on, and learn from those strengths?
• As we build our classroom (and school) communities, how do we honor and build on the many strengths in our decision making and practices?
• To what extent is achievement (i.e., high scores on standardized tests) synonymous with and divergent from learning?
• What do we value as successful, and who do we identify as knowledgeable in our school?
• Who constructs knowledge in the school, from what sources, and for what purposes?
• How do we honor and acknowledge learning among those who have been grossly underserved in schools and communities?
• How do we address and assess the kind of learning and knowledge acquisition that never shows up on achievement measures, including formative assessments and high-stakes standardized tests?

These are the types of questions educators routinely grapple with. Shouldn’t public schools invite the public to help make these fundamental decisions?

* * *

In the table below, I attempt to capture and summarize important dimensions of the recommendations I share. Ultimately, I hope these recommendations might improve our educational system, honor student diversity, and reprofessionalize the field of teaching.

Ways to Address the Deprofessionalization of Teaching

Conclusions

Unlike other countries with national curriculums, such as Singapore and Finland, there is huge variation in the United States regarding what is taught, where, when, for how long, why, how, to whom, and by what means. As a result, families and community members seem to have little knowledge of what students are learning—and they are susceptible to misinformation. I conjecture that as the recommendations above are developed and implemented in a contextually rich and robust way, teachers may regain some of the respect they deserve, and we may disrupt some of the deprofessionalization of the field of teaching. And I hope that as communities engage in deep discussions of what is and should be taught, we develop some common ground about what all young people ought to experience through curriculum practices. For instance, I would argue all young people need to experience an education that features the assets and strengths of many different communities; that tells the complicated, difficult truth about how past and contemporary practices in the United States have led to too many deaths, hardships, and challenges; and that honors young people’s humanity by valuing and affirming them.

When I was in graduate school, my grandmother (who was not formally educated and lived to the age of 92) would ask me about the work I was doing. Excited to share, I often talked about challenges I faced with my work, particularly concerning racial justice. I talked about nonsensical policies that seemed to perpetuate and maintain the status quo. I told her about funding challenges that seemed to further marginalize communities of color. I shared how frustrating it was that high school students were working part-time jobs to support their families and were still expected to “produce” the same outputs as those who did not have to work. I talked about how inequitable, unfair, unjust, and alarming situations were (and are) in society and education. One day after I finished my critiques of education, schooling, and society, my grandmother looked at me, paused, frowned a bit, and said, “Well, keep pressing, baby!”

I suspect these words may feel under-nuanced or perhaps even unthinkable during these times of uncertainty: as teachers are being falsely blamed for teaching critical race theory; as curriculum is being narrowed and Black history is being censored; as books that affirm Black and LGBTQIA+ students are being banned; and as the field of teaching is increasingly becoming deprofessionalized. However, we have made significant progress toward justice and equity over the years, and I implore us all to remember that our young people need us to work with them, perhaps unlike ever before. So, let’s keep pressing!

H. Richard Milner IV is the Cornelius Vanderbilt Chair of Education with Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College of Education and Human Development. Milner is a past president of the American Educational Research Association and an elected member of  the National Academy of  Education. He has published several books and more than 100 journal articles and book chapters. Portions of this article were adapted with permission from Milner, H.R. (2023). The Race Card: Leading the Fight for Truth in America’s Schools. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press.

*By deprofessionalization, I mean teaching that moves away from professional decision making due to unfounded problematic claims of teacher practices. Teaching has long been seen as a semi-profession, an occupation unworthy of professional status that just about anyone can do without professional credentials or long-term educational training.¹ (return to article)

^†By curriculum, I simply mean what students have the opportunity to learn. (return to article)

[Illustrations by John Jay Cabuay]