Invisible Equity

Schools have mastered the language of equity without ever having to define or practice what it really means inside a school site, district, or in the students’ home. School leaders, representing ‘wokeness,’ feel as if they are obligated to ‘dismantle systems of oppression, ’ not understanding ​the oppression​ they seek to dismatle comes from their own internal drivers. The children are still waiting for the results.

A persistent issue exists within public education in Minneapolis, St. Paul, and nationwide: equity is widely discussed but rarely evident in outcomes. It is present in strategic plans, superintendent speeches, district websites, school board presentations, professional development, land acknowledgments, job descriptions, consulting contracts, mission statements, and departmental titles. However, when we assess whether students can read, write, calculate, reason, communicate, and succeed after graduation, tangible evidence of equity is often lacking.

The collective that I am a part of calls this phenomenon Invisible Equity.     

Invisible Equity arises when an institution claims to be equitable based on its engagement in equity-related activities, even if those it serves show no meaningful improvement in educational experiences or outcomes. The organization then confuses language with effectiveness, intentions with impact, and activities with real transformation.

The Twin Cities excel at demonstrating equity in form. Educational institutions use the right language, terminology, and statements in response to each new report highlighting disparities. They conduct equity audits, form equity teams, hire consultants, organize listening sessions, create task forces, revise mission statements, and facilitate discussions.

However, we have not consistently created educational systems where race and poverty no longer determine access to a quality education.

This reality should concern us all.

For years, educators have used illustrations to explain the difference between equality and equity. One common example depicts children of varying heights reaching for apples on a tree, with the solution being to lower the branch so the shortest child can access the fruit.

I do not accept this premise.

If lowering the branch removes an artificial barrier, the intervention is appropriate. However, if it means reducing academic expectations because adults believe certain children cannot meet them, this is not equity. It institutionalizes lower expectations and misrepresents them as compassion.

These are fundamentally different approaches, and public education must have the courage to acknowledge this distinction.

A student who cannot see the board requires glasses, not a simplified assignment. A multilingual student needs strong language development and rigorous instruction, not reduced academic content. A student with a disability needs appropriate accommodations, specialized instruction, and access, not assumptions about limited potential. A child facing housing instability needs stability and support, while a student reading below grade level requires intensive instruction from skilled educators with sufficient time, resources, and organizational support.

Eliminating barriers is equity. Eliminating expectations is surrender.

This distinction is important because some areas of American education have confused compassion with lowering academic standards. While we have developed complex explanations for student struggles, there is often less urgency to address the underlying causes. We can analyze the achievement gap from many perspectives, but ultimately, someone must teach each child to read.

That statement will irritate some people because educational institutions have become increasingly defensive about outcomes. When academic performance is questioned, the response frequently shifts toward explaining poverty, attendance, housing instability, trauma, racism, language acquisition, family mobility, mental health, or inadequate funding. All these conditions matter, but there is a dangerous contradiction in claiming that schools are powerful engines of equity while simultaneously explaining that schools cannot be held responsible for what happens because the challenges surrounding children are too complicated.

We cannot have it both ways.

If education is powerful enough to transform lives, then educational institutions must accept responsibility for measuring whether transformation is occurring. If schools are unable to influence student outcomes because social conditions are too powerful, then we need to stop pretending that another curriculum purchase, strategic plan, equity initiative, or professional development series will somehow change everything.