(April 7, 2022)

I have been reading and reflecting quite a bit lately about mindsets and the role they play in our lives, in particular learning and education. 

Sometimes referred to as mental models, mindsets are the stories we create to explain how the world works. We all have them, yet we are not always conscious of how they affect our interactions with the world around us. And because we base mindsets on our own personal values, beliefs, and experiences, they are all flawed to some extent. Peter Senge, author of “The Fifth Discipline,” once described mindsets as “a pane of glass framing and subtly distorting our vision.”

Of course, we have many mental models in education; these act as our own personal lenses through which we see and engage in the work of teaching and learning. And as educators, I think it is one of our most fascinating challenges: to provide learning experiences that empower our students to form their own mental models in order to make sense of the world. 

Still, how do we do this without influencing them with our own mental models?

Equity is a concept that has come into sharp focus over the past year, and it serves as a powerful example of how mental models impact education. I think of equity as being synonymous with universally accepted values such as fairness and respect. Why, then, has it become so controversial? I believe it has everything to do with our “subtly distorted visions” of the world.

I recently read that if we want to create more equity in education, the first step we must take is to be self-reflective. I decided to reflect on my own mental model of equity: what does it mean to me, how have I experienced and used an equity mindset in my work, how can I use an equity mindset in the future, and what might I need to do this work more effectively moving forward? I will focus on the first two reflective questions in this post.

Equity has always been an essential part of my pedagogy, my mindset, my mental model of education. My oldest brother was born with a profound hearing impairment; growing up with him -- seeing his struggles, learning from his perseverance, observing the support he did and did not receive -- these experiences shaped my mental model about education and equity. I have come to understand that my professional drive to always work with the underdog, to serve the underserved, to stand up for the disenfranchised stems in many ways from my childhood experiences with my brother. 

I now realize that my brother was my first teacher of equity. He always wanted the same opportunities and experiences that his brothers and his classmates had -- to learn, to play sports, to make friends -- but his disability was often a major barrier to him gaining equitable access to these opportunities.

My brother and I grew up at a time when special education services and assistive technology were in early stages of development. As a result, he did receive equal access -- he attended the same classes, played the same sports, and engaged in the same family events as his brothers and his classmates -- and this was considered a major step forward for a hearing-impaired child. 

Prior to the 1970s and to the passing of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), my brother would have been sent to a separate specialized school for students with hearing impairments. So while having equal access was a step forward, I learned that equal did not mean equitable. While he was present in these experiences, he was not accessing them in the same way we were. Because of his disability and because of our lack of understanding of how to help him, he missed many of the nuances of conversation and interactions. 

As a result, the development of my brother’s interpersonal skills, such as effective communication and collaboration skills, were delayed and deficient. Not surprisingly, this caused him to often be frustrated, angry, confused -- and, most significantly, lonely. It was not an easy way to grow up. I am proud to say that he overcame these tremendous challenges to be very successful as an adult, but it did not happen without a significant amount of trauma and pain. 

As his younger brother and an observer of these experiences, I cannot help but wonder how much of this trauma, frustration, and pain could have been averted if more support, technical as well as social and emotional, had been provided for him along the way -- in other words, if a more equitable approach had been applied to his learning experiences.

My brother’s experiences are an essential part of my mental model about learning. On the one hand, I learned that inclusion is essential. He taught me that your disability can become your opportunity and our learning experiences are far richer when we have diversity in our classrooms. On the other hand, I learned that equal opportunity is only the first step in creating more equitable learning opportunities. These realizations have helped me to clarify my equity mindset:

Learning is as much about what we learn as it is about how we learn. And how we learn is dependent on relationships: who we learn with and how we treat each other. Therefore, how we treat each other is at the heart of creating equitable learning environments.

Throughout my career, I have been driven to create caring, supportive, and engaging learning environments that are responsive to the needs of all learners. This is my equity mindset. If I strive to know all learners well, to build a culture of trust, and to form a learning community where we support each other, then all learners will have a fair and just opportunity to grow and to thrive. I hope this is an equity mindset that we can all support.

In the next post I will focus on answering the questions:

• How can I use an equity mindset in the future?
• What I might need to do this work more effectively moving forward?