Ellington

When we discuss issues of achievement within education, particularly revolving around Jackson Public Schools, I see the same horrifying instance play out over and over again. Fingers of blame are either being pointed at the families or, even worse, at the children themselves. This finger-pointing is not only problematic and misguided, but it is harmful to the district and to its students.

As a JPS graduate and a now full-time teacher in the district, the experiences I have had with both parents and students have been 95 percent positive. I keep open communication with the parents, and in return, they are extremely helpful. I work hard to respect my students, and in return, I receive their respect far more often than not. Most of my students work hard (or at least as hard as you could expect any 14-year-old) to succeed.

But even if that all weren't true, it still does no good to point fingers at them. The only thing it does is end the conversation and create a narrative of negativity about JPS, its families, and, most tragically, its students. If it's the parents' or the students' fault, then there is really not a whole lot we can do about it, and we should just move on from the conversation. That's not to mention the harm done to the psyche of the students by blaming the students and their families. Most people point the finger because they don't want to acknowledge the much bigger problem at hand. Many people, even the ones who are really supposed to, truly don't care about the quality of education that most of our most marginalized students are receiving (I'm looking at you, Mississippi state government), but they are often the ones who speak the loudest when they see articles or news stories about issues within JPS. They want to put an end to the conversation so that we don't have to address the real problems, which in turn harms our students.

If we really wanted to fix problems, we would point our collective finger in the right direction: at our local and national government. We cannot pretend any longer that our government has not set up two different systems of education: one for more affluent students and one for most marginalized students. We can clearly see that the quality of the schools (buildings, amount of certified teachers, resources, etc.) is defined by the ZIP code within which children are born.

Because much of the funding for school districts is based off of the tax base of the city, it is no wonder that JPS lacks enough funding to get by. When you add that lack of a tax base to the fact that the state has underfunded JPS $98.6 million since 2009 according to its own formula of adequately funding education, then clearly our poorer districts are set up for failure. Yes, JPS' administration makes some mistakes—all of them do—but can you imagine how difficult it must be to do a good job when you lack so much of the funding you need?

Many argue that funding is not what we need to fix the system, but it could help provide the resources that the district needs the most: nurses to see the students who are sick and miss school because they can't afford health care; more counselors and social workers for the students who have difficult home lives; more after-school programs for the students who need something to keep them busy and away from trouble after school; more teachers to cut down on class size and allow for more individual attention; more valuable trainings that would help teachers be successful and therefore help the district to retain a staff of experienced and qualified teachers. The list is endless.

When I reflect on my students who I am failing to teach successfully, I take into consideration the outside-of-school factors that might hinder their performance, but I always bring my reflection back to myself. I understand I can control only one part of the situation, and that is me. I cannot control the circumstances that my most difficult students may come from, but I can control how I treat them in my classroom and how hard I work to teach them successfully. I can fight for them to get the resources they need to succeed. I can point my finger in the right direction, and I urge you, if you must point your finger, to do the same.

Olivia Coté was born and raised in Jackson and is now a certified teacher at Murrah High School, where she adores 
her students.