Editorial Opinion: This isn’t about academic ability; it’s about inequity embedded so deeply in the infrastructure that we’ve stopped noticing it

A vote of No Confidence with resignations is the next step. 

By Don Allen, Ed.S., M.A.Ed., MAT

Maybe it’s not politically correct to say this, but when is change actually change, and not just a cosmetic illusion designed to pacify people living in struggle?

For the past two weeks, I’ve been driving 30 minutes south of the Twin Cities, past Hastings, Red Wing, and into the fringes of rural-urban comfort. The deeper I drive into the suburbs, the clearer things become—literally and metaphorically. McDonald’s restaurants are immaculate. Gas stations are well-lit and clean. Digital marquees actually spell words correctly. The young people working in these places reflect the communities in which they live. And yes, there are big houses, massive yards, dogs running free, and even cornfields stretching toward the sky like everything around them has room to grow.

But when I turn back toward Minneapolis or St. Paul, the mood shifts. It’s not just aesthetics, it’s infrastructure, spirit, and opportunity. The closer you get to the “core,” the more burned out, static, and dysfunctional the systems feel. The bus stops near University and Snelling Avenues might be dangerous for the wrong person at the wrong time. The schools look tired. The signs are broken. The fast-food joints look like survival zones. Even our retail spaces scream scarcity.

This isn’t a rant about suburban privilege; this is a data-backed observation about uneven development, racialized neglect, and systemic stagnation. It happens in education, too. A student earning an A+ in North Minneapolis isn’t getting the same opportunities, tools, or postsecondary pipeline access as a student with an A+ in one of the suburban cities adjacent to the Twin Cities. That should concern everyone. This isn’t about academic ability; it’s about inequity embedded so deeply in the infrastructure that we’ve stopped noticing it.

When we talk about “change,” who defines it? Who benefits from it? In the urban core, too many of our so-called changes are performative, marked by new acronyms, rebranded offices, and “community listening sessions.” Yet the outcomes remain disturbingly the same. Black and Brown students continue to sit in classrooms without access to smartboards, ergonomic seating, or 21st-century technology tools. There are middle schools in Minneapolis where students are given outdated Chromebooks, asked to type on broken keyboards, and receive curriculum designed a decade ago.

Karen Chenoweth (2009) underscores the urgency of confronting these disparities: “The truth is that many children do not fail. We fail them, by not organizing schools so they can succeed” (p. 8). Our schools are not failing because our students can’t learn; they’re failing because the systems have been organized not to serve them. This is the hidden curriculum of inequity.

Michael Fullan (2014) argues that “effective change is not about pilot programs and slogans—it’s about systems that work for all” (p. 6). Yet what we often see in urban districts is a version of change that changes nothing, shifting the language but not the logic. Until school systems build infrastructure that supports equity at the ground level, change will remain a euphemism for stasis.

And let’s not forget what Ross W. Greene (2009) taught us in Lost at School: “Kids do well if they can. If they’re not doing well, the adults in their lives need to figure out why, and then help” (p. 10). The problem isn’t our youth; it’s how we ignore the root causes of dysfunction, blaming individuals for failures embedded in policy, funding, and expectations.

Artificial Intelligence, which we were told would change everything, said this should have happened five years ago. And it’s right. Every student should have a gaming chair and a proper desk. Every school should have fast Wi-Fi, access to AI-driven tools, and culturally sustaining instruction. Every student, regardless of ZIP code, should experience joy, discovery, and preparation for a future they help shape.

So again: When is change change? It’s not when the press release drops. It’s not when the school board votes. It’s when lived experiences align with the promises on paper.

We can’t keep measuring success by how well we can make stagnation look like progress.

Change means transformation, not translation. The suburbs are proof that systems can work when there’s political will and resourced intention. The question is, why are we okay accepting less in the places where change is most needed?

Until we reconcile that truth, nothing will move but the hands on the clock—and they don’t wait for anyone.

About the author
Don Allen is a doctoral student at Hamline University.

References

Chenoweth, K. (2009). How it’s being done: Urgent lessons from unexpected schools. Harvard Education Press.

Fullan, M. (2014). The principal: Three keys to maximizing impact. Jossey-Bass.

Greene, R. W. (2009). Lost at school: Why our kids with behavioral challenges are falling through the cracks and how we can help them. Scribner.