Category: Higher Education

  • Faculty-Staff Group Asks Again for Leadership

    “The issue of admissions is fundamental to the university. Our

    differences with the president’s
    policy regarding admissions are well known. While we are pleased

    that the university has
    increased efforts in the areas of outreach and scholarships (including the

    diversity fellowship),
    the academic literature on minority enrollment is clear: affirmative action

    is necessary to combat
    existing bias in American society and create a diverse campus. Early evidence

    from next year’s
    class suggests that minority enrollments are up, and we are encouraged by this.

    However, this
    data is still preliminary. More importantly, the short-term effect of these efforts

    does not speak to
    the long-term ability of TAMU to maintain a diverse student body. We urge the

    president to
    reconsider his policy and allow race and ethnicity to be considered in university

    admissions.
    Because there is significant debate among those who support the consideration of race

    in
    admissions as to how such criteria are to be applied, we would also encourage TAMU to

    review
    the admissions policies of the Vision 2020 institutions.”

    [May 18 (2004)

    Recommendations from Texas A&M Univ. Faculty and Staff Committed to an Inclusive Campus (FSCIC) p.

    3.]

  • Resegregation at A&M, 1994-2003

    CHART BELOW
    Enrollment Ratios 2000-2004
    for Texas A&M University
    by

    Race/Ethnicity & Gender
    See “Read More”

    First Time Student Ratios by

    Gender / Race / Ethnicity
    (Fall Semester)

    Category 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004
    Total 6,685 6,760 6,949 6,726 7,068
    Female 3,497 (52.3%) 3,476 (51.4%) 3,665 (52.7%) 3,532 ( 52.5%) 3,643 ( 51.5%)
    Male 3,188 (47.7%)

    3,284 (48.6%) 3,284 (47.3%)

    3,194 ( 47.5%) 3,425 ( 48.5%)

    White 5,389 (80.6%

    )

    5,544 (82.0%) 5,758 (82.9%

    )

    5,538 (82.3%) 5,640 (79.8%

    )

    Black 173

    (2.6%)

    198 (2.9%) 182 (2.6%

    )

    158 (2.3%) 213 (3.0%)

    Hispanic 669 (10.0%

    )

    674 (10.0%) 664 (9.6%)

    692 (10.3%) 865 (12.2%)
    Asian/Pacifc Island 251 (3.8%

    )

    222 (3.3%) 230 (3.3%)

    234 (3.5%) 267 (3.8%)
    Am. Indian 35 (0.5%)

    37 (0.5%) 27 (0.4%) 27 (0.4%) 38 (0.5%)
    International 47 (0.7%) 48 (0.7%) 56 (0.8%) 67

    (1.0%)

    40 (0.6%)
    Other 121 (1.8%) 37

    (0.5%)

    32 (0.5%) 10 ( 0.1%

    )

    5 ( 0.1%)
    Source OISP/ep/F2000

    (p.76)

    OISP/ep/F2001

    (p.67)

    OISP/ep/F2002

    (p.80)

    OISP/ep/F2003

    (p.82)

    OISP/ep/F2004

    (p.95)

    Note: Between 1994 and 1998, the ratio of:

    –Black first time students fell steadily from 4.8% to 2.7%

    –Hispanic first-time students

    peaked at 14.7% then fell to 9.1%

    –White first-time students increased steadily from 76.3% to

    82.0%

    Source: OPIR/ip/Profile98(p.8)

    Okay maybe we’d like to see a second thing: systematic reporting of enrollment

    ratios; without ratios, the raw numbers have little civil rights significance.–gm
    [2004 numbers

    updated Dec.]

  • Class Struggle and Critical Race Theory for Texas Schools:

    A Review of Amanda Bright Brownson’s Dissertation on Texas School

    Funding

    By Greg Moses

    Portside, ILCA Online

    Indymedia

    ATX /

    Chicago /

    Houston /

    LA /

    NYC /

    Archive

    Any hour now, Texas is expecting to read

    detailed “findings of fact” from the trial judge who just (and justly) ruled two weeks ago that the

    state’s school funding system is flatly unconstitutional. Make no mistake, the facts are plain. And

    the future of civil rights is on the line.

    In a 2002 statistical review of school equity

    in Texas, for example, Amanda Bright Brownson predicted exactly the court rulings that were issued in

    mid-September after a six-week trial. Fully two years before the judge ruled that state funding for

    education was neither adequate nor equitable, Brownson wrote that, “Issues of both equity and adequacy

    must still be addressed as we try to further raise our expectations for schools and students.”

    And, with the school funding lawsuit already on the docket (as she was defending her

    study before a dissertation committee at the University of Texas at Austin) Brownson even hinted that a

    state-mandated $1.50 cap on local property taxes might pose “capacity” problems. The judge, in

    striking down the cap, agreed that the cap had reached capacity.

    Furthermore, warned

    Brownson, “the Legislature will have to proceed with caution if it is not going to lose ground gained

    with respect to equity, as it attempts to address capacity.” And on this point, too, Brownson

    predicted the structure of the three-point court ruling that now will be taken to higher courts in

    Texas for review. While the judge agreed with West Orange Cove plaintiffs that the school system is

    under-funded, and that the tax cap should be lifted, he also agreed with intervening districts led by

    Edgewood and Alvarado, that the state’s allocation of money is inefficient (the court’s codewords for

    inequitable).

    Considering Brownson’s impressive run of predictions, an observer of the

    school funding trial might stand vindicated for having felt that the state’s defense looked rather

    desperate. We’ll get another look at the state’s logic when a formal appeal is filed.

    But returning to the Brownson study; even though it presents effective findings, there are

    two features of its methodology that worry me in the longer run. First, Brownson’s analysis does not

    address the problem of school equity as a civil rights problem. Edgewood interveners, of course, were

    more clear on this point, because Edgewood leadership has been working on the problem at least since

    1968, when the first “Edgewood” case, Rodriguez vs. San Antonio, was filed in federal court. Although

    the US Supreme Court denied the claims of Rodriguez, an eloquent dissenting opinion written by civil

    rights legend Thurgood Marshall ended with a footnote in 1973, that suggested a legal appeal to the

    Texas constitution. A decade later, the Edgewood cases were resumed, putting Marshall’s advice to good

    effect.

    Brownson’s study was class-based, with focus on lingering gaps between “all

    students” and students who are “economically disadvantaged.” Edgewood interveners, led by attorneys

    from the Mexican American Legal Defense Fund (MALDEF) also presented statistical gaps between “Anglo”

    and “Hispanic” students; between “English speaking” students and those with “Limited English

    Proficiency” (LEP)–terms of struggle that speak more plainly to the civil rights legacy of the school

    funding struggle in Texas.

    At first glance, the example of the Edgewood interveners

    might suggest that Brownson’s methodologies can be easily adapted to civil rights applications.

    Brownson, for instance, showed that equity gaps increase when expenses per student include costs of

    educating specific populations, such as the “economically disadvantaged.” Using the same kind of

    model, Edgewood interveners argued that gaps also increase if one accounts for the cost of bringing

    mostly Spanish speaking students into a system of English proficiency. In one of the more thrilling

    dramas of the courtroom, trial judge John Dietz took the state’s own bilingual expert, and in three

    minutes’ time, got her to admit that Texas should triple its funding formula for bilingual

    education.

    And, just as Brownson used test scores from state-sponsored exams to

    demonstrate lingering performance gaps for impoverished children, the Edgewood interveners plugged in

    test scores to show gaps that separate ethnicities and language groups. So the uses made of the

    Brownson models might seem to be extended easily to civil rights demographics. As long as the state

    keeps pumping out standardized test scores, then inequities in education will continue to be measurable

    for civil rights purposes. But this is where I think the model will break down in the longer run.

    Tests are convenient measurements of “output” for anyone who needs to place numbers on a

    scale. For students, teachers, parents, principals, and policy makers alike, test numbers have become

    common currency. In the Texas courtroom, test numbers collected by the state posed invaluable evidence

    against the state. Not only were overall passing rates on state exams introduced as evidence of

    “inadequacy,” but gaps between student “subgroups” were tagged as exhibits to show inequity.

    I have an amateurish hunch that the currency of “test scores” is pretty closely aligned with

    the rise of the U.S. dollar (read capitalist ideology), and my suspicion is somewhat validated by

    Brownson’s gloss on the history of “production functions” in education. Today’s educational

    administrator is addicted to the kinds of fixes that “production functions” make possible.

    What is both interesting and tragic, however, is that “production functions” were imported

    from industry (capitalists) to education (capitalists in waiting) in order to satisfy a civil rights

    mandate. It was the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that called for a major study of educational equity in

    the United States and it was the resulting Coleman Report of 1966 that used “production functions” to

    demonstrate that schools were less to blame for student performance than, say, “family and peer group

    characteristics.” So it was a capital intensive statistical tool that was used to prove how academic

    achievement was more or less “inherently” attributable to social conditions rather than schooling. And

    all this was done in the name of civil rights.

    Of course, if the plain logic of the

    Coleman report’s findings were to be followed out, we would have to conclude that social revolution

    rather than school reform would be a wiser mechanism for expanding the intelligence of a people. And

    there is a deeper civil rights truth to this line of thought, a truth that cost many civil rights

    activists their lives during the sixties and seventies. But in the muddled world of everyday politics

    in America, there is an oh-so-patient assumption that social reform, if not revolution, might be

    nurtured through school reform. And when you get to thinking about all the things that would be needed

    for any semi-coherent social revolution, or when you consider the way th

    at status quo defenders in

    America simply execute civil rights leaders outright, school reform doesn’t look like such a bad place

    to both work and live.

    At any rate, the marriage of civil rights to test scores is a

    tragic match in at least one respect over the longer term. The more that test scores are standardized,

    the more the curriculum must follow standardized tests, and, consequently, the less freedom teachers

    will have over time to innovate the very social changes that will be needed to stop re-inscribing the

    “inherent” structure of social intelligence as we find it. As Carter G. Woodson argued in the

    Miseducation of the Negro (1933), standardized education for white students is going to wind up being a

    repressive education for black students. Which means to me that attempts to bring “subgroups up to

    standards” through “standardized methods” is a logical prescription for intensified “miseducation,”

    precisely along anti-civil-rights lines.

    Texas state demographer Steve Murdoch is getting

    a lot of credit for spurring the Texas court in the direction of its rulings. Murdoch argued that

    trends in poverty and “diversity” (more of both coming soon) demand vigorous educational reform. But

    if I’m not terribly mistaken in my memory, it was a similar nationwide demographic report from the

    Hudson Institute (Workforce 2000, published in 1987) that coincided with the state’s development of

    “standards” in the first place. Something at that time looked a little too slick to me, when “scare

    demographics” were answered with “standards.” I didn’t believe then that “standards” represented a

    sudden eruption of “good faith” among educational leaders of Texas, and I still don’t believe

    it.

    Consider a recent out-of-class experience. On a recent Monday morning, a guy starts

    yelling at a cashier: “well if you understood English I could tell you!” The guy storms out of the

    snack bar, and I feel obliged to buy something from the cashier right away. She hides herself,

    however, behind a tall stack of product and equipment, avoiding eye contact as she attempts to regain

    her self-respect. Her co-worker steps up to take the next pitch. According to Texas standards, we had

    just witnessed a so-called “English-proficient speaker” attempting to communicate with a person of

    “Limited English Proficiency” otherwise known as an LEP.

    I think it was clear to

    everyone in the room who had the real problem with intelligent communication that day, but in the

    jargon of Texas education policy, there are lots of LEPs, like that cashier, whose relationship to

    English is just this shaming, abusive accusation that “standard English” makes speakers so much smarter

    and better than all the other people around. Of course, there is no educational justification for this

    attitude whatsoever, which makes it all the more shameful that the confrontation that I witnessed was

    played out on a campus of higher education.

    The Edgewood interveners are not only

    property poor, they are predominantly Hispanic. The students, therefore, are facing not only a class

    struggle, economically, but their ethnicity also presents them to the Texas educational establishment

    as a “special challenge.” And Brownson’s reliance on standardized test scores, a habit picked up by

    MALDEF attorneys, begins to solidify (or “legitimate” if you will) a regime of standardized

    instruction.

    It was profoundly ironic that on Sept. 15 the trial judge in Texas

    referenced the Texas Revolution against Mexico in his prepared remarks after closing arguments. He

    said that even Texas rebels wanted better education for their kids. The judge was arguing that

    educational commitments could not be severed from the cultural history of Texas law. Yet, the very

    next day, Diez y seis de Septiembre, or Sept. 16, would be a lively day of celebration among many

    Texans of Mexican descent, in commemoration of a quite different revolution—the one that freed Mexico

    from Spain. Between the judge’s Sept. 15 reference to the Texas Revolution and widespread celebrations

    in of the Mexican Revolution on Sept. 16 lies a borderland of cultural histories that Texas people

    share.

    After all, Gloria Anzaldua didn’t live for nothing, you know. Her Chicana,

    mestiza, frontera sin fronteras sensibilities were Texas-born and Texas-bred, and we are not going to

    bury anything she stood for. I remember a job interview once by telephone: “What do you teach?” Well

    I’m teaching Gloria Anzaldua’s new book at the moment. “Hmm, I think our committee would be looking

    for something a little more standard than that.” Precisely. What would be the point of teaching

    borderland consciousness if your students are busy preparing for standardized Graduate Record Exams?

    So Brownson did a brilliant job by anticipating the model of judgment that the judge

    would eventually adopt. And the judge has wisely folded claims from Edgewood and Alvarado into the

    claims of West Orange Cove. As a consequence, Texas school funding is heading in a helpful direction,

    toward better and more equitable funding. So I don’t mean to shout “stop the train!” (as if the

    conductor would be listening to me anyway). But I do want to suggest that some major “challenges” of

    Texas education will require much more from this state than “adequate and efficient funding” or

    standardized regimes of tests. If Texas is going to grow, it will also have to grow up. And this will

    mean revisiting widespread assumptions about regimes of standardized instruction, the better to keep

    “test scores” and “English Proficiency” from killing the spirit of civil

    rights.

    Notes:

    (1) Amanda Bright Brownson: School Finance Reform in Post

    Edgewood Texas: An Examination of Revenue Equity and Implications for Student Performance.

    Dissertation (Univ. of Texas-Austin: December 2002). Posted in pdf format by Permission of the Author

    at the Texas Civil Rights Review: https://texascivilrightsreview.org/phpnuke/downloadz/brownson.pdf

    (2) And that cashier I referenced in the incident above? She was not Hispanic. She was

    Asian.

    Greg Moses is Editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of

    Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of

    Nonviolence.

  • TheBatt: Admissions Officer at Faculty Senate

    By Carrie Pierce, “Faculty Senate Addresses Master Plan, Enrollment, Feb. 10, 2004

    “We are not racially diverse,” he [Frank Ashley, acting assistant provost for

    enrollment] said. “Our numbers were negative for African American enrollment last

    year.”

    Of the 6,500 freshmen enrolled in fall 2003, only 161 were black, Ashley

    said.

    “We have something we have to work on here at Texas A&M,” he

    said.

    Ashley said the recruitment committee is sending people out to all regions of

    Texas to attract students, blanketing the whole state.

    The recruitment committee and

    financial aid department are also coming together for the first time to discuss options, Ashley

    said.

  • Diez y Seis de Septiembre 2004: A Talk

    By Marco Portales

    Thank you for joining us to celebrate Hispanic Heritage

    Month at Texas A&M this year.

    Many people need to be thanked for organizing the festive

    activities planned between September 16 and October 15, 2004. Let’s hear an _expression of

    appreciation for the organizers, the Hispanic Presidents Council, the Professional Hispanic Network,

    the Aggie Memorial Student Center, Dr. James Anderson, V.P. for Institutional Diversity and Assessment,

    Dr. Dean Bresgiani, V.P. for Student Affairs, and the group I represent here, MALFA, the Mexican

    American/Latino Faculty Association.

    Since I mentioned MALFA, I want to use this opportunity

    to let all new Aggies know that, after working with the University’s administration for more than two

    years, on May 28, 2004 the Board of Regents accepted President Gates’ recommendation to create MALRC,

    the Mexican American/U.S. Latino Research Center. Currently a search committee is in the process of

    selecting the founding director for a research center that seeks to study all aspects of the Latino

    experience. Why? Because Latinos in the U.S. now number roughly 40 million people, including more

    than 7 million Latinos here in Texas.

    We, the Texas A&M Mexican American and Latino

    faculty, are convinced that we need new knowledge and information about the largest American ethnic

    group in virtually every discipline under the sun. Latinos, as we know, hail from all races and from

    21 different countries. El Diez y Seis de Septiembre celebrates Mexico’s independence from Spain in

    1821, but each of the other 20 Spanish-speaking countries also has its own history and stories of

    independence.

    On a festive day like today, ordinarily we talk about the past, about the

    Diez y Seis de Septiembre, about El Grito de la Independencia promoted by Father Miguel Hidalgo in

    Mexico, but, given where Latinos are today in the U.S., we need to consider the Latino Present because

    that will shape our future.

    When I was your age and in college more than 35 years ago, I

    longed to read books written by Mexican American writers. I wanted to read books that spoke to the

    world about our Latino lives and experiences in the United States. After all, Texas belonged to the

    Spanish empire for 308 years before the Battle of San Jacinto ushered in The Republic of Texas in 1836.

    For 308 years, the language of Texas era el Español, Spanish, and Hispanics or Latinos resided

    throughout the Southwest in the areas known today as New Mexico, Arizona, California, and the southern

    parts of Utah, Nevada, and Colorado. But following the 1846 to 1848 War with Mexico declared by

    President Polk, all of these lands, or 55% of the land that Mexico owned was ceded to the United States

    for the nominal sum of $15 million, the same amount of money that Thomas Jefferson bought the Louisiana

    Purchase from France in 1803. Such was the power of Manifest Destiny, the idea that God intended the

    people of the U.S. to take over Native American lands from the Atlantic to the Pacific. That story, as

    we know, is known as American History; and, as all of you know well, students are required to take

    courses in that area.

    What we are not required to take are courses in the people who

    were displaced, the people whose histories we have know about and who have had to tough it out for many

    generations. Over the years, I have discovered that is why Mexican Americans and Native Americans have

    not written books that are widely known. In college I read Ralph Waldo Emerson, the writer who said

    that every generation writes its own books. So where are the books written by the previous generations

    of Mexican Americans, I asked when I was 19.

    Well, our Latino ancestors were too busy,

    struggling to make a living. They did not have the luxury of writing books. When one did, such as

    Americo Paredes, who finished writing George Washington Gomez when he was 25 in 1940, editors told him

    they were not interested in publishing the work of a Mexican American because they felt no one would

    read such books. That is why Paredes’ book was put away and not brought out until 1990, or half a

    century later, a year before I arrived at Texas A&M to teach.

    Today, Latinos have

    definitely arrived as far as the public consciousness is concerned. But here is the important point:

    we have been here all along. Partially to celebrate that fact and mainly to provide you with what I

    did not have when I was your age, I have been writing some books about the Latino experience since

    arriving on campus. In November the Texas A&M University Press will published my nonfiction book,

    “Latino Sun, Rising: Our Spanish-speaking U.S. World.” I wrote this book to share my experiences and

    to provide future generations with some life stories, the type of stories that I missed when I was

    growing up. It seems to me that people can use some narratives for traction, as it were, on which each

    of you students can build your own future contributions.

    Our challenge essentially means

    that you have to ask your professors what the Latino contribution has been. We study and study and, as

    most of you know, the disciplines and areas that most of you are required to study tend to be silent

    about Latinos. How can it be that Latinos have lived in Texas and in the Southwest since 1528 when

    Cabeza de Vaca roamed Texas and have so little to show for it? That is 476 years. How can Spanish-

    speakers live for 24 generations (count them) and not have more than a handful of known books that tell

    us stories about ourselves? How many of us, for example, can name, say, 5 Latino books? Try it. You

    now know George Washington Gomez by Americo Paredes. Any other ones that immediately jump to mind?

    People who know the field, of course, can name titles and authors, but most Americans will find the

    challenge difficult.

    There are, of course, other answers to the questions we are

    raising. It is difficult to change the status quo, or the way things are. Why? Because the status

    quo tends to block solutions to our needs. Because power concentrations usually run on established

    tracks that have not traditionally taken us into account, brought us into the picture.

    That is why, as Aggies, we need to encourage you to network, to learn how to develop common

    goals so that the “Hispanic Voice” repeatedly emphasizes our needs and desires.

    What we

    need to pursue is what I am beginning to call Integrative Research. Integrative research because

    Latinos have always been part of American society. Integrative Research because we need to discover

    and then articulate how we have always been here and what we have done. Integrative Research because

    most of us do not know about our Latino accomplishments and the nature of the lives of previous

    generations, because we have not been seen as players, participants and doers. This means that even

    ancestors who have been exceptions to the rule have not often received credit for their achievements

    and contributions. Let me give you a backyard example on which I will close.

    I was

    walking by, admiring the new Chemical Engineering building that Texas A&M is building on the north side

    of campus next to where the English Department is housed in Blocker. Working on the grounds, I saw a

    worker who looked at me as I passed, so I said that the building looked very attractive. Without

    skipping a beat, he quipped, “Si y todos somos Mejicanos,” that is, “Yes, and all of the workers are

    Mexicans.” Do you think that the workers who helped build the wonderful-looking Chemical Engineering

    building will even be in the pictures that we will see when the building is dedicated? Take a look at

    the ground-breaking pictures of the people credited for building the George Bush School of Public

    Service and that will tell us something.

    I teach an Asian American nove
    l by Frank Chin

    ca
    lled Donald Duk (1991). In this imaginative recreation of history, Chinese American workers who were

    hired to lay track for the Transcontinental Railroad from 1865 to 1869 were systematically excluded

    from the American History book pictures. The Irish crews, on the other hand, the workers who “looked”

    more “American” to the Public Relations-minded railroad leaders were given picture credit for building

    the railroad– at the expense of the Chinese workers who were left out of the history books. Chin’s

    novel attempts to rectify that fact. But how many people have read Chin’s work? Since we do not know

    of that historical injustice, do we notice that the Mexican workers won’t be given much credit for

    helping to build that building and others on campus?

    I hope you can now see why we have

    to carry out Integrative Research that will help us to include or integrate and then articulate us into

    past history so that we can have a better present. By doing so, our Mexican, Mexican American and

    Latino sons and daughters will gain confidence in themselves because they will know that their parents,

    or people who looked like them, worked in constructing these buildings. They will have a vested

    interest in Texas A&M because the energies of their parents have been invested in this campus. The

    campus will not be a foreign, intimidating place, but a place that they will want to be at, and perhaps

    graduate from.

    If we educate our sons and daughters better, perhaps some of the

    chemical engineers working in that building in 15 to 20 years will also be the offspring of those

    Mexican workers. If we do not make a conscious effort to include them and other Latinos in American

    society, history has shown us that we will be left out, much as I argue in “Crowding Out Latinos.”

    (2000) If we do not change how Latinos are seen, we will always continue to look like new arrivals,

    when, indeed, most of us have been here all along–for more than 20 generations, as we have seen. To

    put more than 20 generations in perspective, we need to remember that we have only had about 6

    generations of Aggies since Texas A&M was founded in 1876. And that we are only about 11 generations

    or so away from the 1776 U.S. Declaration of Independence.

    Thank you for your kind

    attention.