As a reporter, I’ve interviewed a few people whose words stay with me long after I close my notebook and move to the next news story. Among them is social activist Jonathan Kozol, who I sat down with more than 20 years ago to talk about inequities in American education.
“Most Americans do not want their child to have an equal chance with another child,” Kozol told me. “They want their child to have a better chance, and implicit in that is that some other child has to have less of a chance.”
When my children reached school age, I better understood Kozol’s comment, but I also came to see the counterbalance. Parents must act as their children’s personal advocate in school because, in many cases, the needs of students lose out to administrative convenience.
Politics, pressure and personality play a role in big and small decisions, from which classes students are assigned to which schools are built or closed.
Sometimes, parents have to be noisy to be heard over the steady drone of the educational bureaucracy.
That’s why I have mixed feelings about the parent uprising in DeKalb against the appointment of Cheryl Atkinson as the new superintendent.
On one hand, nitpicking about typos in Atkinson’s job application or doctoral dissertation seems silly. On the other, asking pointed questions about her track record in her current post in Ohio seems fair.
Unfortunately, the debate over whether Atkinson is the right choice has assumed the racial overtones that mar most discussions about schools in DeKalb, a county whose rich diversity often becomes a point of strife rather than strength.
Atkinson is black. An earlier white female candidate —perceived to have the endorsement of many north DeKalb parents — withdrew in the midst of contract negotiations. A Texas candidate favored by some board members was Hispanic.
Many questions about Atkinson’s qualifications come from white parents and board members in north DeKalb, while her staunchest support seems to be with black parents and board members in the south.
In a letter to her north DeKalb constituents, school board member Nancy Jester said, “If our school system does not drastically improve, the implications for our county are dire. I do not see anything in Dr. Atkinson’s record with her current district that convinces me she will be able to move our district in the right direction.”
Her view was echoed by Don McChesney, who told his constituents in a letter, “I do not expect perfection because that record is unobtainable, but there were other candidates with better records.”
But Gene Walker, who represents a wide swath of south DeKalb and supports Atkinson, has begun giving terse responses to north DeKalb parents whom he perceives are trying to sabotage her confirmation.
Walker responded to a parent seeking more insights on Atkinson’s qualifications and why the board settled on her, “I wish I could believe you wanted to be in support of Dr. Cheryl Atkinson. However, I think not. Thus, I will not forward additional information.”
The intense public focus on Atkinson stems, in part, from the risky belief that DeKalb’s new school chief represents the system’s last hope, that she swoops in as a savior to rescue the schools from lethargy and apathy. (That hope also reflects the despair with which many DeKalb residents view their school board.)
DeKalb would be better off if it accepted that no single person will end the apathy and lethargy in its schools. Rather than measuring her for a superhero cape, Atkinson ought to be assessed on her ability to set a higher tone and expectations, hire and inspire good people and impose and enforce accountability.
Turning around DeKalb County schools will take the collective commitment and effort of every principal, teacher and parent, and it will not happen overnight.
At times, it will take the willingness of DeKalb parents of means and influence — whether on the north or south ends of the county — to recognize that giving their own child an edge is not always as important as giving all children a chance.
The divisions among DeKalb parents reflect income as much as race, said David Schutten, president of the Organization of DeKalb Educators.
“I see the dividing line of I-285 with Columbia, Towers and McNair high schools struggling on one side, and M.L. King, Southwest Dekalb, Arabia Mountain and Miller Grove high schools, which don’t have those same struggles, on the other side,” he said.
What connects most of DeKalb’s middle-income parents, said Schutten, “is they don’t understand how much more exposure their kids have to daily learning in their homes compared to low-income kids and how much these kids need.
“People can come together across differences if they will sit down and listen to each other and not talk at each other.”
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