Navigating Discussions of Race and Class
A superintendent’s candid self-reflections of how it all played out in his Missouri district through the use of an after-action review

Following his tenure as superintendent in Columbia, Mo., Peter Stiepleman undertook an after-action review to study his efforts to infuse equity into district practices. PHOTO BY MICHELLE BAUMSTARK/COLUMBIA PUBLIC SCHOOLS

In 2015, Columbia, Mo., received national attention when protests about racial justice erupted on the campus of the University of Missouri. Both the university president and chancellor resigned from their positions, and school districts across the state began developing or strengthening their equity programs.

During this time, I was in my second year as the superintendent of a district of 19,000 students with urban, suburban and rural characteristics based in Columbia. The events on the university campus and in the local community became a turning point in our equity work — from discussions about socioeconomics to an emphasis on race. But it wasn’t immediate or easy.

After a district-run professional training course on the history of Black Lives Matter (including discussions on how to respond to comments such as “well, I think all lives matter”), we were advised by our county’s emergency management center of an unusual 9-1-1 call:

Dispatcher: 9-1-1. How can I help you?

Caller: I am calling because I want this stopped.

Dispatcher: This is 9-1-1. Is there an emergency?

Caller: Yes, my wife was forced to attend a training, an equity training, and she was told to feel guilty for being white.

Dispatcher: I am sorry sir, but this is 9-1-1.

Caller: I know it’s 9-1-1. This is an emergency.

Dispatcher: When did this happen, sir?

Caller: Yesterday.

Dispatcher: Yesterday?

Caller: Yes, my wife went to a district training yesterday and learned about Black Lives Matter.

Dispatcher: Sir, this is 9-1-1. This number is for calling in emergencies. Goodbye.

Focus on Race

Conversations about race are some of the most difficult for educators. Yet they are necessary for school districts to initiate and sustain. There are the internal perspectives of students and staff, as well as parents and the community at large — not to mention Columbia’s proximity to Missouri’s capital, Jefferson City, which brings the attention of politicians and political operatives.

Now, almost a year after leaving the superintendency in Columbia, I can share the approach our school district took. Subsequently, we engaged in an after-action review, an organizational learning tool that can help to transform smart teams into high-performing teams.

Leaders don’t often engage in the after-action review process as a regular course of reflection because they are always running from one high-stakes decision to the next. The military invented this process and does it routinely. Hospital administrators, too. Superintendents are like those two professions in a lot of ways (diplomacy and hands-on compassionate care).

My after-action review as a superintendent examined these components:

»What happened?

»What got overlooked?

»What did I learn about relationships?

»What frustrated me?

»What I could have done differently?

»What long-lasting and enduring learning came out of the experience?

»What happened?

When I became a superintendent in 2014, my goal was to improve access for all children. I wanted every child to access a great curriculum and excellent teachers. I wanted them to have access to extracurriculars. I wanted to rethink disciplinary practices by finding ways to keep children in school. I referred to this as AEO — Achievement, Enrichment and Opportunity.

At a World Café event, students in Columbia, Mo., shared their perspectives on questions related to their lives as students raised by then-superintendent Peter Stiepleman (standing). PHOTO BY MICHELLE BAUMSTARK/COLUMBIA PUBLIC SCHOOLS

More than anything, I wanted to be open and transparent about our school district’s data, specifically the gap between groups of children.

»Where is the entry point for large-scale training on equity?

There was a lot of work to do. I was determined to put a spotlight on our equity work. During my first year, we had taken a major step forward through our relationship with the National Conference for Community and Justice of Metropolitan St. Louis, an organization whose stated mission is to promote inclusion for all people.

We decided we would add, annually, eight “facilitrainers” to our district’s equity team so it would represent a range of identities and be available to support the school district’s effort to improve outcomes.

Initially, I thought the entry point to discussions about equity were better approached through discussions of poverty, not through race. Teenager Michael Brown’s death in Ferguson, Mo., in August 2014 had sparked protests in the state. Our local NAACP had joined a statewide march from Ferguson to Jefferson City, and I was looking to April when I would ask a divided community to approve a significant tax increase.

I remember how disappointed our school district’s equity team was by my decision to focus on poverty. The way I saw it, I told them, was to use the metaphor of a house. The house represented equity and there were two entrances. I said, “We all want to get inside that house. The question is how?” One way was a really, really sticky door (race) and the other less so (poverty). If we could rally people to consider the needs of children in poverty, I reasoned we would be able to address race as well.

For the entire year, we engaged in trainings about poverty. I showed them how children born into poverty in Boone County, Mo., were only 17 percent more likely than children in other counties in America to escape from poverty. I invited experts to come to Columbia for school visits and to facilitate trainings. Our facilitrainers led entire faculties in a “poverty module” to simulate the excruciating decisions families make and the enduring consequences of generational poverty. When one learns how it is not uncommon for a family in poverty to use their child’s social security number to access utilities, it is heartbreaking. The work was productive and important. Our data, though, told us we had to look more closely at the other door.

Before the 2016-17 school year began, I decided to bring together every teacher in the school district for one-hour sessions in a high school gymnasium. I said, “I can stand in front of every Rotary Club and say that 3rd graders in Columbia read on a 4th-grade level. But the moment we disaggregate the data between African-American children and their white peers, we see something incredibly alarming.”

I showed them that at 3rd grade, African-American children read below the 3rd-grade level while their white peers read at the 4th-grade level. I showed them how this problem persisted in later years as well. As 8th graders, African-American children read on a 6th-grade level while their white peers read on a 9th-grade level. We had to look critically at our systems, our practices and our beliefs.

I was confident we’d get buy-in right from the start. We had done good work around poverty. Now, I reasoned, we’d work together to tackle the issue of an achievement gap. If anyone could do it, it would be Columbia Public Schools.

Just before the 2016-17 school year, I presented our reading and math data to three African-American superintendents from urban and suburban districts. I distinctly remember saying to them at the moment I revealed the more than three-year gap in reading by 9th grade, “And this is where the room gets quiet.” Their feedback was a genuine but cautious “good luck.” They knew I’d be faced with resistance.

Fast forward to 2022. We have come a long way, and I’ve looked back to see what went well and what could have been different. Here’s where an after-action review is essential.

»What got overlooked?

Leaders are constantly barraged with problems that need solutions. Experience has taught me that leaders don’t pause, take a step back and distinguish between an emergency and an emergent issue. I treated this shift as an emergency and not as an emergent issue. I didn’t take the time to use my team effectively. I overlooked their ability to help me lead the work.

»What did I learn about relationships?

I learned relationships can be deceptive. Throughout my time as a building and district leader, I had built a strong relationship with an activist in our community. The partnership was built on a common compelling purpose. I assumed this person was going to rally behind us and say, “Finally! You’re talking about race, class, sex, sexual orientation, religion and ability. It’s difficult work. It’s important work. And you’re doing it.”

Instead, I was disappointed to find myself defending our equity work and the calls for people’s resignations. It was a hard lesson to learn. It didn’t stop me from working to build relationships with others who sought to understand our goals. Several positive partnerships developed, and those individuals, who were once outspoken critics, met with our team, and we worked together. It was through this experience I was reminded how sharing leadership builds trust.

»What frustrated me?

Most frustrating was the reaction to how we were reporting the data. I knew I could stand in front of any group and say our 3rd graders were performing above grade level, but I knew we’d never achieve our moral focus without first being honest about where we were falling short.

However, in declaring this honesty, I was instead accused of spotlighting African-American children. I was accused of blaming them. Yet what I was doing was what every leader should do: I was willing to lead with vulnerability and say, “We have work to do in this specific area.”

»What could I have done differently?

Looking back, I realized I wasn’t leading the way I had been taught — using the Human-Centered School Transformation Model developed by Linda Henke, executive director of the Santa Fe Center for Transformational School Leadership.  I hadn’t harvested the collective wisdom of the people most impacted by my decisions. I hadn’t served as a lead learner. I failed to admit I had made a mistake by making decisions with little input.

More than anything, I hadn’t applied systems and design thinking. For example, I didn’t ask, as the Waters Center for Systems Thinking aptly puts it, “If we make a change to the system, how long before we anticipate seeing the results we desire and what will be happening within the system during the time delay that could affect the results we desire?”

»What were the positives that came out of this experience?

Our greatest learning happens when we serve as lead learners and confront our decision-making processes. When that happens, innovations and promising practices emerge. For example:

»We established a pipeline, known as COMOEd, for locally educated, culturally competent students to receive full scholarships (including room, board and books) to become teachers in our school district.

»We supported student-led organizations, such as the Multicultural Achievement Committee Scholars program and the Wake Up Campaign, in becoming more involved in equity in the school district.

»We created a chief equity officer role, a cabinet position, to lead the district’s equity work and influence policy and practices.

»I became a facilitrainer through the National Conference for Community and Justice of Metropolitan St. Louis. We expanded our NCCJ work beyond faculty meetings and took it to all new teachers. I trained this group so that my actions would align with my words.

»The entire seven-member board of education actively participated in multiple equity trainings. This required them to be willing to be vulnerable in a public space with regular news media coverage.

A Valuable Journey

Every leader is tasked with leading their school districts to shift beliefs and practices. We are all trying to figure out how to break down the gaps that exist. Academically, we weren’t seeing the results we had hoped for, so we needed to look at our systems, including its perceptions about children. We knew if we didn’t try to approach the work in some way, whether it be race or class, we would fail. So maybe the answer doesn’t lie in where exactly to start because no one universally will agree which one is right. Instead, the answer is to genuinely include all the individuals who will make this work possible. Work together.

In the end, notwithstanding the outrageous calls to 9-1-1, the disturbing e-mails and offensive letters, the phone calls and public comments during school board meetings, the work we started was extremely important. I learned the power of shared leadership, of leading with vulnerability and of collaborative systems. Most of all, I learned how powerful an after-action review process can be for an individual leader and his, her or their entire team.

PETER STIEPLEMAN retired as superintendent in Columbia, Mo., last June. Twitter: @pstieple