What Happens When You Don’t Want to Be on the Losing Team?
Meanwhile, anyone bold enough to ask why the results never change is treated like a disruptive guest at a dinner party, tolerated, but only if they promise not to mention the burnt turkey. Welcome to the team no one actually wants to be on.
By Don Allen - Journal Of A Black Teacher
I know what loss feels like. I’ve carried it, survived it, and learned from it. Nothing teaches you the anatomy of disappointment like seeing systems fail the very children they claim to uplift. Since the beginning of 2025, while working on my dissertation and digging through mountains of Minnesota education data, I’ve come face-to-face with a truth that is impossible to ignore: we are losing, and far too many people seem strangely comfortable with it.
When you look at the numbers coming out of the Twin Cities, reading proficiency, math proficiency, chronic absenteeism, and behavior incidents, you don’t see hope. You see patterns. You see neglect disguised as progress. You see the same “solutions” recycled every two to three years: a new literacy mandate, a new behavior framework, a new consultant group, a new equity slogan, a new strategic plan that reads beautifully and performs miserably.
And yet, somehow, we still celebrate. A certificate here. A press release there. A well-written accomplishment, earned or not, is placed on somebody’s LinkedIn page as if the children who inspired the award actually improved. The needle stays right where it has been for more than a decade, but adults continue to pat each other on the back as if motionless data is a victory.
Let me be clear: I don’t want to be on a losing team.
Not when children’s futures are at stake. Not when families are losing trust. Not when teachers are burning out under the weight of performative leadership. Not when we know what works but refuse to do it because it’s politically inconvenient, socially uncomfortable, or professionally risky.
People often ask who I think I am, speaking so directly, pushing so hard, refusing to blend in with the academic background noise. Here’s who I am: I want more for many.
So yes, I want to be the bull in the china shop. But here’s the twist: I don’t want to break any dishes.
I want to move through the room with power, purpose, and precision, disturbing the silence without destroying what is valuable. I want to overturn practices, not people. I want to smash complacency, not community. Delicate items, children, families, cultures, histories, and dreams are not meant to be smashed at all. They deserve to be protected, nurtured, respected, and adored by the masses.
The losing team, the one too afraid to challenge the status quo, has had the ball long enough. The scoreboard tells the truth: too many districts, too many schools, too many leaders are losing, and the ones paying for it are the children who trusted us.
I refuse to stand by and clap for initiatives that look good but accomplish nothing. I refuse to accept excuses dressed up as “barriers.” I refuse to let another generation slip through the cracks while adults celebrate incrementalism.
Because I know what loss is.
And I also know what winning requires.
If we want a future where children in the Twin Cities, and across the nation, are equipped to thrive, not just survive, then someone has to be willing to disrupt the room without destroying its treasures. Someone must be willing to call the losing plays, challenge the losing strategies, and demand a new game plan entirely.
I’m willing.
The question is: Who else is tired of losing?
I know what loss feels like. I’ve carried it, survived it, and learned from it. Nothing teaches you the anatomy of disappointment like seeing systems fail the very children they claim to uplift. Since the beginning of 2025, while working on my dissertation and digging through mountains of Minnesota education data, I’ve come face-to-face with a truth that is impossible to ignore: we are losing, and far too many people seem strangely comfortable with it.
When you look at the numbers coming out of the Twin Cities, reading proficiency, math proficiency, chronic absenteeism, and behavior incidents, you don’t see hope. You see patterns. You see neglect disguised as progress. You see the same “solutions” recycled every two to three years: a new literacy mandate, a new behavior framework, a new consultant group, a new equity slogan, a new strategic plan that reads beautifully and performs miserably.
And yet, somehow, we still celebrate. A certificate here. A press release there. A well-written accomplishment, earned or not, is placed on somebody’s LinkedIn page as if the children who inspired the award actually improved. The needle stays right where it has been for more than a decade, but adults continue to pat each other on the back as if motionless data is a victory.
Let me be clear: I don’t want to be on a losing team.
Not when children’s futures are at stake. Not when families are losing trust. Not when teachers are burning out under the weight of performative leadership. Not when we know what works but refuse to do it because it’s politically inconvenient, socially uncomfortable, or professionally risky.
People often ask who I think I am, speaking so directly, pushing so hard, refusing to blend in with the academic background noise. Here’s who I am: I want more for many.
- I want more for the American Black boy who reads three grade levels behind because no one ever intervened with urgency.
- I want more for the Somali student who arrived here believing American schools would be a sanctuary of opportunity.
- I want more for the Latina boy who’s been labeled “behavioral” instead of “brilliant but misunderstood.”
- I want more for the Asian newcomer whose multilingual gifts go unnoticed in classrooms obsessed with compliance.
- I want more for the White student who deserves a truly integrated, rigorous, culturally coherent education that prepares them to navigate a diverse world.
- I want fair competition to return.
So yes, I want to be the bull in the china shop. But here’s the twist: I don’t want to break any dishes.
I want to move through the room with power, purpose, and precision, disturbing the silence without destroying what is valuable. I want to overturn practices, not people. I want to smash complacency, not community. Delicate items, children, families, cultures, histories, and dreams are not meant to be smashed at all. They deserve to be protected, nurtured, respected, and adored by the masses.
The losing team, the one too afraid to challenge the status quo, has had the ball long enough. The scoreboard tells the truth: too many districts, too many schools, too many leaders are losing, and the ones paying for it are the children who trusted us.
I refuse to stand by and clap for initiatives that look good but accomplish nothing. I refuse to accept excuses dressed up as “barriers.” I refuse to let another generation slip through the cracks while adults celebrate incrementalism.
Because I know what loss is.
And I also know what winning requires.
If we want a future where children in the Twin Cities, and across the nation, are equipped to thrive, not just survive, then someone has to be willing to disrupt the room without destroying its treasures. Someone must be willing to call the losing plays, challenge the losing strategies, and demand a new game plan entirely.
I’m willing.
The question is: Who else is tired of losing?
Thank you.
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