From Pedagogy to Practice: Lessons from Education in Divisive Times

Written by Cardozie Jones, CEO and Founder, True North EDI

As a consultant and facilitator, my work centers on driving organizational and institutional change, specifically supporting those striving to align their aspirations with their actions to create more just and humane professional communities. However, the results of the 2024 election have brought into sharp focus—on a societal level—a significant disconnect between what Americans claim to want and the actions and behaviors we are using to achieve it. In seeking to better understand what I’ve been feeling, observing, and, in many ways, contributing to, I found myself reflecting on my roots.

I began my career as a classroom teacher in New York City in the early 2000s. Back then, my understanding of systems and institutions was developing alongside my educational practice. Transitioning into equity work more than a decade later, I saw how my background differed from others in the field. Many come from activism spaces, grassroots organizing, corporate HR, or nonprofit work. Each of these pathways brings unique skills and perspectives to the larger effort, and while there are overlaps, the distinctions in these experiences shape how practitioners approach the work. For me, it has always been pedagogy—the art and science of teaching and learning—that serves as the bedrock of my practice.

The following represents what I’m referring to as “orientations” that I developed as a teacher and have significantly informed my current practice. But an orientation represents a direction; they’re not universal truths and I present them as neither right nor virtuous. But they have held me accountable to a “by any means necessary” approach rooted in holding myself, rather than others, accountable for my impact. I offer these orientations to those who subscribe to a theory of change in which meaningful understanding is the predecessor to meaningful action.??

Orientation 1: If Half My Students Fail the Test, That’s on Me

I am accountable for every learner—not just the ones I like, believe in, or see echoes of myself in. Their understanding is a reflection of my practice regardless of those factors or circumstances I can easily point to that make learning challenging. Accountability doesn’t mean I’m to blame or should feel guilty if students miss the mark; it means a commitment to pivot, to listen, to research, and to try new strategies when outcomes don’t align with intentions.

Division becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy when we choose–for even the most valid of reasons–to completely withdraw from connecting with those who sit in opposition to our beliefs, seeing ourselves as separate. This orientation requires us to ask: What am I missing? What other resources do I have? Will the world I live in be better because I’ve walked away from this?

Orientation 2: Stretch, don’t snap.

Meaningful learning happens in the space beyond comfort but before panic. Believe it or not, the protective chemicals your brain releases in response to perceived threats don’t differentiate much between types of danger—they react similarly whether the threat is physical or social. This means when people feel attacked, criticized, or embarrassed, our brain is largely unable to learn new information. At the same time, in order for learning to stick, the brain needs to be challenged1.

With young people, this orientation might be obvious. But as adults, we often push back against the notion that we should have to make other adults feel comfortable when discussing things we feel are important like identity, power, or privilege. “I shouldn’t have to” is one of the most common sentence starters I come across in my practice. Not only do I empathize, I’ve said the words, and they come from a real place. But even real roads can lead to a dead end. What would it look like to separate the act of making someone feel comfortable enough to learn, from the act of surrender? What if it represented gain rather than loss?????

1 Hammond, Zaretta L. Culturally Responsive Teaching and the Brain. Corwin Press, 2015.???

Orientation 3: Don’t dumb it down, break it down.

Oversimplification of complex ideas may feel efficient, but it often backfires. Soundbites like, “Carbs are bad,” “Kids will grow out of it,” “The key to solving poverty is money” are examples of big ideas squeezed into little ones and leave the majority of the public ill-equipped to understand the nuance of the idea.?

Rather than oversimplifying new or complex ideas, teachers learn to “scaffold” them by breaking ideas into manageable parts and gradually building understanding—creating and then gradually removing the supports that uphold the fragility of new learning.?

The slogan “defund the police” captured the urgency of the time but lacked the nuance needed to understand why the concept had the potential to result in a system that worked better for everyone. While the call was valid, its oversimplification alienated communities across lines of race who feared losing critical safety resources.?

Orientation 4: I’m not smarter than you

There is a prevalent albeit antiquated mindset in our society as it relates to education in which teachers are the holders of knowledge and students are an empty vessel, waiting for that knowledge to be deposited. As factors like race, gender, and socioeconomic status compound, so too does this mindset.?

This orientation is more difficult to internalize because it requires that we first admit we hold the bias, and such a personal admission goes against a deep-seated desire to be perceived by oneself and others as good.?

I remember learning about the concept of Ubuntu as a young teacher. Ubuntu is derived from the Zulu and Xhosa languages and loosely translates to, “I am because you are.” As a teacher, this orientation served as a multiplying force when it came to learning and understanding. I learned that students do better when they see themselves reflected in and connected to those who teach them.?

Injustice thrives when we forget that we are all part of the same fabric.?

Conclusion

The orientations I’ve shared are not meant to infantilize or diminish those individuals or groups you may feel sit (or vote) in opposition to your values, beliefs, or rights. They aren’t meant to diminish the importance and power of standing up for what’s right, being fed up, or drawing clear lines when distinctions are necessary.? People feel hurt, afraid, and targeted by what they’ve experienced and seen on America’s horizon. While taking care of ourselves and loved ones is essential, some collective ways of being—though they may feel intuitive, righteous, or satisfying at the moment—ultimately deepen divisions and can worsen the very situations we’re trying to avoid.?

It is my responsibility to be critical of the practices and approaches that we—those committed to transformation—continue to engage in that run counter to our ultimate goals. These patterns erode our ability to see each other as human, fueling factionalism and self-defeating dogma that keep us from working toward solutions that benefit us all.

My time and experience in teaching and learning environments have always been rooted in a quest for transformation through deep and meaningful understanding. This quest isn’t about persuading others to agree with me—it’s about discovering something new, something we couldn’t have imagined until we spent enough time together to create it.

Critical Questions

• How many of your internal thoughts begin with “I shouldn’t have to”? How does this help you reach your goals or strengthen your relationships?
• What would change if you saw accountability not as blame but as an opportunity to pivot and grow?
• What conditions are you creating for others to feel seen, heard, and understood?

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