International Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice 2019046195, 2019046196, 9780367428112, 9780367409609, 9780367855581

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
List of Tables
Preface
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Introduction
1. The Construct of Deficit Thinking
PART I : The Americas
2. The United States of America
3. Canada
4. Latin America (Brazil; Costa Rica; Mexico; Peru)
PART II: South Pacific
5. Australia
6. New Zealand (Fiji)
PART III: Europe
7. England
8. Other European Countries (Ireland; Belgium)
PART IV: Asia
9. Asia (India; China)
PART V: Africa
10. Africa (South Africa; Nigeria)
Final Thoughts
Index

Citation preview

INTERNATIONAL DEFICIT THINKING

International Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice explores the incontrovertible reality of the persistent and pervasive academic achievement gap in many countries between marginalized students (primarily of color) and their economically advantaged White counterparts. For example, International Deficit Thinking discusses the cases of low-socioeconomic Black and Mexican American students in the United States, Indigenous Māori students in New Zealand, and immigrant Moroccan and Turkish pupils in Belgium. The predominant theoretical perspective that has been advanced to explain the school failure of marginalized students is the deficit thinking paradigm—a parsimonious, endogenous, and pseudoscientific model that blames such students as the makers of their own school failure. Deficit thinking asserts that the low academic achievement of many marginalized students is due to their limited intellectual ability, poor academic achievement motivation, and being raised in dysfunctional families and cultures. Drawing from, in part, critical race theory, systemic inequality analysis, and colonialism/postcolonialism, award-winning author and scholar Richard R. Valencia examines deficit thinking in education in 16 countries (e.g., Canada; Peru, Australia; England; India; South Africa). He seeks to (a) document and debunk deficit thinking as an interpretation for school failure of marginalized students; (b) offer scientifically defensible counternarratives for race-, class-, language-, and gender-based differences in academic achievement; (c) provide suggestions for workable and sustainable school reform for marginalized students. Richard R. Valencia is Professor Emeritus of Educational Psychology and Former Faculty Associate of the Center for Mexican American Studies at The University of Texas, Austin, USA.

INTERNATIONAL DEFICIT THINKING Educational Thought and Practice

Richard R. Valencia

First published 2020 by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Taylor & Francis The right of Richard R.Valencia to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Valencia, Richard R., author. Title: International deficit thinking : educational thought and practice / Richard R. Valencia, Professor Emeritus, Department of Educational Psychology, The University of Texas at Austin. Identifiers: LCCN 2019046195 (print) | LCCN 2019046196 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367428112 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367409609 (paperback) | ISBN 9780367855581 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Educational equalization--Cross-cultural studies. | Academic achievement--Cross-cultural studies. | Education reform--Cross-cultural studies. | Discrimination in education--Cross-cultural studies. Classification: LCC LC213 .V35 2020 (print) | LCC LC213 (ebook) | DDC 379.2/6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019046195 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019046196 ISBN: 978-0-367-42811-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-40960-9 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-85558-1 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Cenveo® Publisher Services

To marginalized students of color, disregarded indigenous students, and discounted immigrant pupils—and their families—in their struggle for equal educational opportunity, equal treatment, and empowerment. I also dedicate this volume to those international scholars, educators, and policymakers who assiduously challenge the ubiquity of deficit thinking and its oppressive impact, and devote their time and energy to working on behalf of demonstrative school success for marginalized children and youth. Finally, I dedicate this book to the memory of Dr. Arthur (“Art”) Pearl (1922 to 2018)—my mentor, coauthor, and dear friend. Thanks Art, for introducing me to the notion of deficit thinking in the early 1970s when I was a young scholar. —Richard R. Valencia

CONTENTS

List of Tables ix x Preface xviii Acknowledgments xix About the Author Introductionxx 1 The Construct of Deficit Thinking

1

PART I

The Americas

31

2 The United States of America

33

3 Canada

66

4 Latin America (Brazil; Costa Rica; Mexico; Peru)

93

PART II

South Pacific

119

5 Australia

121

6 New Zealand (Fiji)

145

viii  Contents

PART III

Europe

171

7 England

173

8 Other European Countries (Ireland; Belgium)

190

PART IV

Asia

215

9 Asia (India; China)

217

PART V

Africa

229

10 Africa (South Africa; Nigeria)

231

Final Thoughts Index

253 258

TABLES

2.1 2.2 4.1 7.1

Deficit Thinking Themes Identified in International Deficit Thinking Frequency of Deficit Thinking Themes Early Literacy Knowledge: Costa Rican vs. Nicaraguan Kindergarten and First Graders Percentage of Students Attaining Expected Level for Mathematics on Key Stages 1 to 4

34 35 104 175

PREFACE

International Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice addresses the following questions: How does one best explain the incontestable international reality that a persistent and pervasive academic achievement chasm exists between different student groups in countries that have been conquered and colonized (e.g., Australia; South Africa; U.S.A.) or have marginalized immigrant groups (e.g., Belgium; England)? What theoretical models have been advanced to account for the academic achievement disparities between student sectors—who have been marginalized by racial, class, language, and gender bias? There are several substantive frameworks that have been proferred to explain the achievement gap (hereafter referred to as TAG), which is a barometer for school failure (Valencia, 2015, chapter 2). Of these competing explanations, there is one model that has, by far, the least scientific validity and practical value in explaining TAG and addressing democratic school reform—the deficit thinking paradigm. Yet, this model has the dubious distinction of being frequently cited by researchers (in the present volume and elsewhere) who find, for example, that many teachers have negative views of marginalized students (e.g., low-socioeconomic status [SES] Black and Mexican American students in the U.S., and neglected students in other countries, such as Irish Traveller pupils in Ireland and Indigenous Māori pupils in New Zealand). That is, these students are often believed by teachers to be intellectually limited, linguistically incompetent, lacking achievement motivation, and raised in dysfunctional families and cultures. Such deficit thinking perspectives of low expectations of the educability of discounted students, researchers find, often translate to teachers’ curricular interventions such as non-challenging seat work, ability grouping, tracking, and mere neglect. I assert that this contradiction (pseudoscientific nature of deficit thinking and frequency of deficit thinking views proferred as an explanation of school failure) rests on the seductive nature of deficit thinking (Valencia, 2010, chapter 1, and chapter 1, current book). This questionable scientific model, by its basic structure, is parsimonious and endogenous, which are highly interrelated notions. These two bonded features

Preface xi

immediately signal problems in the realm of scientific inquiry. Because deficit thinking relies so heavily on simplistic hypotheses and alleged deficient internal attributes of individuals to explain poor student academic outcomes, it eschews deep analyses to account for school failure. Specifically, it refrains from examining complex and exogenous macrolevel factors such as Race x Class gaps in income, housing, and health care that negatively affect the school success of marginalized students (Valencia, 2015, chapter 3). Furthermore, deficit thinking ignores destructive mesolevel school realities, practices, and policies (e.g., school segregation; underqualified teachers; language suppression; curriculum differentiation) (Valencia, 2015, chapters 4-7, respectively). International Deficit Thinking completes the trilogy of my scholarly tomes on deficit thinking. My first book—The Evolution of Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice (Valencia, 1997a)—is considered a “citation classic.”1 Book two—Dismantling Contemporary Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice (Valencia, 2010)—won the 2011 American Educational Research Association Outstanding Book Award, deemed by many to be the top national book award in education. This book also won the 2011 American Educational Studies Association Critics Choice Book Award. Dismantling Contemporary Deficit Thinking is considered a “widespread impact” book.2 In sum, the construct of deficit thinking, in the context of my work on the topic, is widely discussed in educational literature. It appears that it may even have some utility and value as a “threshold concept,” a notion introduced by Meyer and Land (2003). In a later work, Meyer and Land (2005) describe threshold concepts as “conceptual gateways” or “portals” that provide paths to “a previously inaccessible, and initially perhaps ‘troublesome,’ way of thinking about something. A new way of understanding, interpreting, or viewing something may thus emerge—a transformed internal view of subject matter, subject landscape, or even world view” (p. 373). Meyer and Land (2005) discuss a number of characteristics of a threshold concept. I describe three of them. First, a threshold concept may be transformative (prompting a major shift in perceiving a subject). Second, it is irreversible (not likely be forgotten). Third, it is integrative (unmasking the previously hidden connections of something). A fourth characteristic of a threshold concept, discussed by Wright and Hibbert (2015), involves the notion of troublesome knowledge (which appears to be brought about by cognitive dissonance that introduces initial knowledge that is illogical and not familiar, and subsequently clarifies and debunks contradictions). One scholar, Spillane (2015), a White woman, shares her narrative on how deficit thinking came to serve as a threshold concept in her personal development. She began her career as an art teacher in a very low-SES elementary school in Florida. Approximately 95% of her students were African American. As her teaching got underway, Spillane realized that her students were experiencing some academic difficulties. She developed a mindset, similar to the one held

xii  Preface

by her colleagues, that she was not responsible for her students “limited educability” (p. 60), which affected their learning. At one point in time, she even thought that her professional life would improve if she transferred to a “better” school (p. 60). Spillane recalls: “It was not until I encountered critical race theory, particularly Valencia’s (1997a, 1997b; 2010) work [on deficit thinking], during my dissertation research that I understood that my [early] perceptions and assumptions [were] deficit based” (p. 60). For her, deficit thinking became a threshold concept, leading her to conclude: “Deficit thinking is at the core of the most pervasive and damaging ‘commonsense understandings’ about marginalized students and communities” (p. 60). Spillane’s transformation shaped her perspectives that deficit thinking has a major “role in [creating] systemic, racialized educational inequities” (p. 62) and helped her to see that “teacher performance [serves] as a component of educational equity” (p. 63). Currently, she works as a university art education professor advocating and teaching for social justice with racially diverse preservice teachers. In sum, the primary aim of the proposed book is to extend our understanding of how deficit thinking has been advanced, internationally, as an explanation of school failure and TAG of marginalized students. I will provide data and discuss the incontrovertible reality that low-SES students of color (e.g., Blacks and Mexican Americans in the United States), Indigenous students (e.g., Aboriginals in Australia; Māori in New Zealand), and marginalized immigrant students (e.g., Moroccans and Turkish in Belgium) persistently perform academically lower than their economically advantaged White counterparts. International Deficit Thinking seeks to (a) document and debunk deficit thinking as an interpretation for school failure of marginalized students; (b) offer scientifically defensible counternarratives for race-, class-, language- and gender-based differences in academic achievement; (c) provide suggestions for workable and sustainable school reform for marginalized students. International Deficit Thinking consists of 5 parts, 10 chapters, and a “Final Thoughts” section. The introductory chapter 1, “The Construct of Deficit Thinking,” dissects this notion in the context of international education. In doing so, I frame the discussion around several sections. First, I explain the concept of school failure and the variable of TAG. School failure is the persistently, pervasively, and disproportionately low academic achievement of students who have been forced to the fringes of the educational system (Valencia, 2011, chapter 1). I discuss school failure in the context of TAG, which has utility as a worldwide barometer of differences in academic achievement across student groups—as evidenced, for example, in reading test performance, grade retention, school holding power (dropouts), and matriculation rates to college (see Valencia, 2015, chapter 1, for a description of other TAG indicators). In the next section of chapter 1, I discuss several theoretical perspectives that have been proffered to explain school failure: (a) cultural-ecological;

Preface xiii

(b) communication process; (c) systemic inequality; (d) deficit thinking (Valencia, 2015, chapter 2). For the latter model, deficit thinking, I cover its origin and early history. As well, I introduce three variants of the model: (a) genetic pathology; (b) culture of poverty; (c) at-risk. In my unpacking of the deficit thinking model in chapter 1, the most significant discussion pertains to an overview of seven characteristics: (a) blaming the victim; (b) Othering and binarization; (c) oppression; (d) pseudoscience; (e) temporal changes; (f ) educability; (g) heterodoxy. The remaining chapters of the present volume, numbered 2-10, cover deficit thinking subject matter germane to various countries. Prior to these literature reviews, there are, however, some commonalities. First, for 12 (75%) of the 16 countries covered that have experienced imperialistic invasions by European forces, there is a section on “Conquest and Colonization,” or at least a brief discussion in an untitled text section (e.g., for Costa Rica and Mexico, chapter 4).3 A second common feature seen in chapters 2 to 10 is a section on “Ethnic Demographic Profile,” or at least a short discussion in an untitled section (e.g., for Latin America countries in chapter 4). This profile covers population size of the country, percentages of various ethnic groups, and at times, data on language diversity and SES are noted. A third commonality of chapters 2 to 10 is a section on “TAG” (or in an untitled text section)—when data are available. The core of each chapter from 2 to 10 is a review of studies applicable to international deficit thinking in educational thought and practice. The respective literature reviews of germane studies are located in a section titled, “Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice.” I refer to these categorized reviews as “deficit thinking themes.” In the beginning of chapter 2 (U.S.A.), which introduces the international review of deficit thinking literature, I share how I went about synthesizing this corpus of studies by presenting and discussing Table 2.1 and Table 2.2. For the sake of brevity and to avoid redundancy in the following discussion, I do not provide a full summary of the deficit thinking themes per chapters 2-10. Rather, I present only example summaries of three chapters (covering the countries of Brazil, Australia, and India). These annotations should give the reader a good sense of how I approached the full corpus of discussions of the deficit thinking themes for the various chapters. In connection with chapter 4, Latin America, I summarize a Brazilian study that is situated in the deficit thinking theme of “Teachers.” Among low-SES schoolchildren and youth in Brazil, there is an extremely high rate of being retained a grade (or more) and dropping out of school (Stromquist, 2001). This major issue prompted Gama & de Jesús (1998) to conduct an investigation of public school teachers’ explanations of what they think are the primary causes of such widespread school failure. Their investigation consists of three studies. For brevity of discussion, I cover only one. Using a qualitative design that

xiv  Preface

employed an attribution questionnaire, the authors had 451 elementary school teachers participate in focused group discussions. The results revealed that the most frequent explanations for school failure were of a deficit thinking nature. For example, the participants commented that parents were not interested in the school work and achievement of their offspring; children lacked motivation; children lacked readiness to learn. In their summary Gama and de Jesús (1998) conclude that attribution theory is a promising approach in understanding teachers’ deficit thinking perceptions (also, see my discussion of fundamental attribution error presented in chapter 1, current book). The authors assert that teachers’ attributions of marginalized Brazilian students and their families are not “individual cognitions but are collectively shared” (p. 8). Deficit thinking cognitions, the authors argue, are social representations, or common sense constructions of what we see as reality that, in turn, become transformed. These representations appear to be constructed based on misinformation and stereotyping. Furthermore, such constructions are influenced by deficit thinking scholars who conduct research, as well as seen in everyday teacher interactions with poor children and their parents. For a second summary example, I draw from a study in Australia (chapter 5) that falls in the deficit thinking theme of “Developmental Assessment (language and intelligence).” Gould (2009) conducted her 3-year-long case study in the Aboriginal community of Bunya (pseudonym), located in a rural area in Queensland. She skillfully shows how deficit thinking directed toward the Aboriginal students, their families, and community helped shape inappropriate educational assessments of the students, which led to overidentification of them as linguistically and intellectually impaired, and a resultant disproportional placement of the students in special education classes. Gould’s (2009) study involved a small number of Aboriginal students, ranging in age from 3 to 6 years. The author’s primary focus was on how the participants were assessed via worst-case practices. First, the participants’ language was assessed in Standard Australian English (SAE), although the children’ home language was Aboriginal English, which is closer to Creole than it is to SAE. Also, a number of White teachers and assessment personnel described the children’s language as “deficient” and “wrong” (p. 105). A second worstcase practice was that the participants’ intelligence was assessed with the use of instruments based on SAE and normed on United States. White Englishspeakers. Gould found a considerable amount of intellectual assessment was carried out at the school, which she referred to as “targeted IQ testing,” meaning that the referring teachers had preconceptions that some of the Aboriginal children were intellectually deficient. As a result of these worst-case practices, such inappropriate and inaccurate assessments led to an overrepresentation of the Aboriginal students in the special education category of Intellectual

Preface xv

Impairment. These abusive practices and faulty placements involving special education are not that unusual from a cross-cultural, cross-international perspective (see Valencia, 2008, chapter 3, for cases involving Mexican American, Black, and Yaqui Indian special education students in the United States). Gould concludes by rightfully pinpointing systemic culpability: “The failure of the department of education personnel to enforce their own recommendations regarding best practice in the assessment of Aboriginal students has been complicit in allowing these injustices to occur” (p. 288). In regard to a third summary example, I discuss an investigation from chapter 9, Asia, specifically the deficit thinking theme of “Hereditarianism,” which is germane to India. In a case study of a primary school, Badka Bandh, located in a remote village, Singh and Kumar (2010) discuss how teachers’ beliefs in “sanskara”—which refers to heredity-based educability—is related to perceptions of children’s ability and academic achievement. The authors note that 100% of the children enrolled in the school are from marginalized backgrounds, and some of the pupils are members of the Musahar community, a segment of the Dalit (lower caste in India). Singh and Kumar report that the students, as a whole, are poor achievers. Most of the teachers hold a strong belief that sanskara, educability which is allegedly inherited, is the reason for the pupils’ school failure. The following quotes by teachers illustrate this unfortunate form of deficit thinking: • •

•

“How can these children study, they do not have [good] ‘sanskara’ “(p. 34). “A child’s ‘sanskara’ begins to be formed in the womb of his/her mother. After birth it is formed by parents’ ‘sanskara,’ lifestyle and environment of his/her community and society” (p. 36). “‘Sanskara’ is a hereditary disposition” (p. 36).

Teacher’s beliefs in sanskara, coupled with lack of governmental intervention, led to the indifference, insensitivity, and neglect toward the Badka Bandh students, as exemplified by the following observations of Singh and Kumar (2010): (a) failure to fix broken water hand pumps, windows, and chairs at the school; (b) non-completion of the construction of a toilet; (c) termination of the midday meal; (d) acceptance of a teacher-student ratio of 1:40; (e) early dismissal of the school day. Fortunately, not all teachers in the local village believe in sanskara. Singh and Kumar note that a middle school teacher offered this insight: Parents’ ‘sanskara’ is not responsible for the [school] failure of children from the Musahar community. It is found that children of parents without having the so-called ‘sanskara’ have become great scholars and thinkers. Poverty and related compulsions have kept these children away from education. Today everyone from the Musahar community also is aware that their children need to get education. (p. 37)

xvi  Preface

In the current volume, I close by offering some “Final Thoughts.” My intent is not to summarize the massive terrain we have covered about deficit thinking, but rather to share a few concluding points about reform that will help bring closure to this tome. These ruminations are, to wit: (a) the need to go beyond binaries; (b) the need for reform in teacher education; (c) the need for schools to welcome marginalized parents, as well as for teachers to build strong connections with them, and the need for schools to allow opportunities for parental empowerment.

Notes 1 Based on a citation impact analysis by Nosek et al. (2010), a benchmark for a publication to be considered a “citation classic” is 1,000 times cited. As of a Google search I conducted on March 9, 2019,Valencia (1997a) had 1,521 citations. 2 Nosek et al. (2010) note that a benchmark for a publication to be deemed a “widespread impact” citation is 300 times cited. As of a Google search I undertook on March 9, 2019,Valencia (2010) had 750 citations. 3 See Introduction of present volume for a list of these 12 countries.

References Gama, E.P., & de Jesús, D.M. (1998, April). Teachers’ causal explanations for achievement: Common sense or social representations? Paper presented at the meeting of the American Educational Research Association, San Diego, CA. Gould, J. (2009). The interaction between developmental assessment, deficit thinking and home language in the education of Aboriginal children: A community case study. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of South Australia, Research Centre for Languages and Cultures. Meyer, J.H.F., & Land, R. (2003). Threshold concepts and troublesome knowledge: Linkages to ways of thinking and practising within the disciplines (Occasional Report No. 4). Edinburgh, UK: Enhancing Teaching-Learning Environments in Undergraduate Courses Project, Higher and Community Education, School of Education, University of Edinburgh. Meyer, J.H.F., & Land, R. (2005). Threshold concepts and troublesome knowledge (2): Epistemological considerations and a conceptual framework for teaching and learning. Higher Education, 49, 373–388. DOI 10.1007/s10734-004-6779-5. Nosek, B.A., Graham, J., Lindner, N.M., Kesebir, S., Hawkins, C.B., Hahn, C., Schmidt, K., Motyl, M., Joy-Gaba, J.A., Frazier, R., & Tenney, E.R. (2010). Cumulative and careerstage impact of social-personality psychology programs and their members. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 36, 1283–1300. Retrieved March 21, 2019 from projectimplicit. net/nosek/papers/citations/. Singh, P.D., & Kumar, S. (2010). Social hierarchy and notion of educability: Experiences of teachers and children from marginalized and non-marginalized communities in Gaya, Bihar, India. Mukherjee, Nagar, New Delhi, India: Deshkal Publications. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from http://www.deshkalindia.com/img/reports/4.%20Report%20on%20Social% 20heirarchy%20and%20notion%20of%20educability.pdf. Spillane, S. (2015). The failure of whiteness in art education: A personal narrative informed by critical race theory. Journal of Social Theory, 35, 57–68.

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Stromquist, N.P. (2001). What poverty does to girls’ education: The intersection of class, gender and policy in Latin America. Compare, 3, 39–56. Valencia, R.R. (Ed.). (1997a). The evolution of deficit thinking; Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London: Falmer Press. Valencia, R.R. (1997b). Genetic pathology model of deficit thinking. In R.R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 41–112). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London: Falmer Press. Valencia, R.R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York: New York University Press. Valencia, R.R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York: Routledge. Valencia, R.R. (2011).The plight of Chicano students: An overview of schooling conditions and outcomes. In R.R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 3–41). New York: Routledge. Valencia, R.R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York: Routledge. Wright, A.L., & Hibbert, P. (2015). Threshold concepts in theory and practice: Editorial. Journal of Management Education, 39, 443–451. DOI 10.1177/1052562915574866.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The support of many individuals is necessary to bring a book to fruition. My sincere appreciation is extended to Matt Friberg, Editor, at Routledge, for your enthusiastic support throughout this project. Thank you, Jessica Cooke, Editorial Assistant at Routledge, for your fine guidance during the production process. A special thank you goes to Dr. Phoebe Long for your stellar and valuable help as my Research Assistant. Thank you very much, Cenveo for your outstanding work in copyediting. To my wonderful wife, Marta, thank you dear for your intellectual and emotional support over the long process of making this book a reality. Also, it was a special treat and relief being able to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary right after I submitted the book proposal to Routledge. Finally, my heartfelt acknowledgment goes to my twin sons, Captain Carlos Valencia, U.S. Army, and Captain Juan Valencia, U.S. Marines. As you serve your country, be safe my sons. You may not know be aware of it, but often I looked to you—your commitment to excellence and steadfastness in your goals—for strength and perseverance while I pursued my hard work on this book. Mijos, as I have always said, you are the best sons a father could have. Juan, thank you and your lovely wife, Emily, for making me a grandfather with the birth of Daniel Joseph while I was in the final stages of my writing.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Richard R. Valencia is Professor Emeritus of educational psychology and

former Faculty Associate in the Center for Mexican American Studies at The University of Texas at Austin. Dr. Valencia is a nationally recognized expert on the education of students of color, particularly Mexican Americans. He specializes in historical, social, psychological, measurement, legal, demographic, and reform aspects pertaining to students of color. Among his nine books are: Dismantling Contemporary Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice (Critical Educator Series, Routledge, 2010)—winner of the American Educational Research Association 2011 Outstanding Book Award, and the winner of the American Educational Studies Association 2011 Critics Choice Book Award; Chicano Students and the Courts: The Mexican American Legal Struggle for Educational Equality (Critical America Series, New York University Press, 2008)—runner-up winner of the 2010 Robert W. Hamilton Book Award; and Chicano School Success and Failure: Past, Present, and Future (3rd ed., Routledge, 2011)—winner of the American Educational Studies Association 2012 Critics Choice Book Award. His most recent book is Students of Color and the Achievement Gap: Systemic Challenges, Systemic Transformations (Routledge, 2015).

INTRODUCTION Understanding and Analyzing School Failure and the Achievement Gap Across Nations In order to comprehend and analyze school failure and the academic achievement chasm that exist, internationally, between economically favored White students and economically disadvantaged students of color, Indigenous students, and marginalized immigrant pupils, it is necessary to cast a wide theoretical net woven with various scholarly perspectives.1 In my probe, I draw from seven theoretical frameworks, to wit: 1. Deficit thinking. This model, which I introduced in the book’s Preface and unpack in detail in chapter 1, is the bedrock construct of the analysis to follow. This endogenous, imputational, and pseudoscientific model—which has wide currency in the literature in explaining school failure among many marginalized students—is front and center in the ensuing investigation of international deficit thinking in educational thought and practice. 2. Critical race theory. This conceptual framework has its origins in the 1970s, when a cadre of legal scholars, lawyers, and activists across the United States realized that the momentum of civil rights litigation had stalled (Delgado & Stefancic, 2001; Taylor, 1988). A form of oppositional scholarship, critical race theory (CRT) questions the experiences of Whites as the norm and bases its conceptual structure in the lives of people of color (Taylor).2 Ladson-Billings and Tate (1995) are noted for being among the first scholars to apply CRT to the field of education. Now a growing field of scholarship with a large corpus of literature, CRT has gained widespread popularity in education, especially among scholars who specialize in race and ethnicity. 3 Issues studied in CRT and education are diverse, including, for example, school failure and success of low-SES students of color, student resistance, tracking, educational history, the Western canon, low-SES families of color, and testing.4 I, for one, have found CRT to be a useful conceptual tool in my study of Mexican American educational litigation (Valencia, 2005, 2008) and in the investigation of TAG and school reform pertaining to Latino/Latina and Black students in the United States (Valencia, 2015).

Introduction xxi

Solórzano (1998), a prominent CRT scholar, has identified five themes, or tenets, that underlie the perspectives, research methods, and pedagogy of CRT in education. I also draw from Yosso’s (2006) discussion of these points. A. The centrality and intersectionality of race and racism. CRT begins with the proposition that race and racism are entrenched and enduring in the societies of various nations, particularly in those that have been conquered and colonized by European aggressors. Examples of these countries that are covered in the present volume are: U.S.A. (chapter 2), Canada (chapter 3), Brazil (chapter 4), New Zealand (chapter 6), India (chapter 9), and South Africa (chapter 10). CRT calls for an examination of how race has come to be socially constructed and how it serves as a protection of White privilege. Although CRT in education focuses on race and racism, it also seeks to investigate how racism intersects with other manifestations of inequality (e.g., gender; class; phenotype; language; surname). A case in point is seen in how female gender oppressively triangulates with race and class in Nigeria (chapter 10, present volume). B. The challenge to dominant ideology. Heterodoxy is another key element in CRT in education. Here, CRT challenges the orthodoxy of education, particularly regarding unfounded claims about meritocracy, objectivity, color and gender blindness, and equal opportunity (e.g., see Solomon, Portelli, Daniel, & Campbell, 2005, who examined the views of teacher candidates, in chapter 3, Canada, section on “Teacher Candidates and Teachers,” current book). Furthermore, critical race theorists assert that the notions of power and self-interest are actually camouflages for White privilege which helps to establish and maintain oppressive policies. For example, there is the historical reality of White-dominated school boards in the United States who forced, based on faulty justifications, the isolation of Mexican American students in segregated schools. Such segregation was needed, it was argued, so Mexican American youngsters could have more time to learn English. This rationale was merely a smoke screen for the school board’s racebased opposition to mixing Mexican American and White students in the same schools and classes (Valencia, 2005, 2008). C. Commitment to social justice. CRT in education has a firm duty to social justice and the elimination of racism (e.g., see Kose, 2009, who conducted case studies of three public elementary and middle school principals who were social justice leaders; discussed in chapter 2, U.S.A., section on “Administrators,” present volume). Critical race theorists posit that schools are political institutions, and therefore view education as a vehicle to end various forms of subordination, such as racial, class, and gender discrimination.

xxii  Introduction

D. The centrality of experiential knowledge. CRT recognizes the great importance of experiential knowledge of people of color and marginalized immigrants and that such knowledge is valid, appropriate, and essential to understanding, analyzing, and teaching about racism in education. CRT considers these lived experiences of marginalized students and their families as major strengths and draws widely on these various life experiences. A case in point is the study by Ndimande (2016; chapter 10, South Africa, section on “School Choice,” current book). He focuses on the government’s new policy of using school choice to stimulate school desegregation. In interviews with Black parents living in segregated townships (developed during apartheid), the respondents said they would be willing to send their children to the White schools, but they could not afford it. One participant, Mama Thoko, commented: “I would like to send them there [White schools], but I am also wondering why can’t they [the government] bring better education here in the township, too” (p. 41). As such, she was skillfully questioning why Blacks should shoulder the burden of desegregation. E. The interdisciplinary perspective. CRT in education challenges the ahistorical and unidisciplinary preoccupation of most educational analyses and argues that one can best understand race and racism in education by incorporating interdisciplinary perspectives. An illustration is the investigation by Weems (2013; chapter 2, U.S.A., section on “Administrators,” present volume) who conducted case studies of two school superintendents who advocate and work for social justice. For his overall theoretical framework, Weems draws from three models: (a) Valencia’s (2010) work on deficit thinking; (b) Bourdieus’ (1977) concept of doxa; (c) Mezirow’s (2012) transformational learning theory. 3. Class inequality analysis. In his Divided World, Divided Classes, Cope (2015) comments: Whilst struggles over race and nation are of primary importance in and of themselves…they can neither be reduced nor be seen as peripheral to class struggles, [as] they are impossible to understand outside of the context of class domination and the attendant social relations of exploitation and oppression. (pp. 40-41) Milanovic (2016), in Global Inequality, notes that income inequality among world citizens can best be understood by examining both (a) the total of all national inequalities, and (b) the sum of income gaps between nations. The first component (within-nation inequalities) concerns, for example, income inequality between rich and poor Australians, and rich and poor Brazilians.

Introduction xxiii

The second element (between-nation inequalities) involves income chasms between, for example, the U.S. and Mexico, and so on. Milanovic’s twocomponent analysis of financial inequality within-and between-nations can be extended by examining between-continent comparisons. For example, in regard to gross domestic product (GDP) per capita, Africa in 2016 had the lowest, at $1,089, while North America had the highest GDP per capita, at $34,477; the world average in 2016 was $10,300.5 In the incorporation of a class analysis as part of my theoretical framework, a central point is the common finding of covariation of SES and race (LaViest, 2005; Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, chapter 3). That is, students of color, compared to their White counterparts, have a higher probability of being from a lowerSES background. For example, in regard to children (under 18 years of age) in the United States living in poverty in 2015, 36.5% were Blacks and 30.5% were Latinos/Latinas, respectively—compared to 12.6% of Whites (Frey, 2018, p. 29, Table 2-1).6 Valencia (2015, chapter 3) also reports SES x Race data on the variables of median household income, middle-class financial security, median net worth, and living in poverty (pp. 83-85, Tables 3.1 to 3.4). He notes that on all SES measures, Blacks and Latinos/Latinas are likely to be, compared to their White counterparts, in the lower-SES stratum. Considering the saliency of the covariation of SES and race, I frequently refer to low-SES students of color—a major target population of the present volume. 4. Gender inequality analysis. In their book, Equality for Women = Prosperity for All: The Disastrous Global Crisis of Gender Inequality, López-Claros and Nakhjavani (2018) note that in 1960 the worldwide literacy rate was 47%, and in 2015 it rose to 85%. Yet, when disaggregated by sex, women fare far worse compared to their male counterparts—particularly in poor, less developed regions. For example, in Africa in 2015 there were 225.1 million illiterate men and women (15 plus years of age). Of these, 138.4 million (61.5%) were women and 86.6 million (38.5%) were men.7 Furthermore, one of the largest contingents of illiterate people (15 plus years of age) live in Asia. That is, in the countries of India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh there were 356.5 million illiterate men and women in 2015. Disaggregated by sex, 225.6 million (63.3%) were women and 130.9 (36.7%) were men.8 Commenting on global gender inequality in education and its disastrous consequences, López-Claros and Nakhyavani (2018) note: When women are denied access to education, human capital is lower than its potential. When human capital is lower, economic growth inevitably sinks too. And when inadequate economic growth leads to patterns of endemic poverty, domestic and social violence, lagging health care services, dysfunctional government, and a deteriorating social fabric, rampant insecurity ensues. (pp. 203-204)

xxiv  Introduction

In the current volume, gender inequality surfaces as an important deficit thinking theme in several countries (i.e., Mexico, India, and Nigeria) and is a dominant force there in the creation of prejudice and discrimination visà-vis girls and women in schools and society. 5. Systemic inequality analysis. In the present volume, I assert that the oppression and inequalities experienced by many students who are discounted represent a microcosm of the grave conditions faced by numerous marginalized people in the larger community of a stratified nation (e.g., Noguera, 2009; Pearl, 2002; Valencia, 2015). As such, we need to be mindful that the school failure of many disregarded children and youth is linked to the unceasing, pervasive, and deep inequality that is structured in nearly all facets of nations engaged in oppression of those who are less powerful. A major thesis of the current volume is that school reform for marginalized students will require concerted, systemic, and equitable transformations in differential income, housing, and health care in the larger society (Valencia, 2015). As well, close attention needs to be paid to rectifying mesolevel educational inequalities, such as in school financing, school segregation, teacher quality, language oppression and cultural exclusion, curriculum differentiation, and microlevel concerns involving student and parental agency (Valencia, 2015) 6. Colonialism and postcolonialism. This topic, used as a strand in the theoretical analysis of the present volume, is quite significant because of the 16 countries studied, 12 (75%) have been conquered and colonized by European aggressors. These nations are, in chapter order: U.S.A. (chapter 2); Canada (chapter 3); Brazil, Costa Rica, Mexico, and Peru (chapter 4); Australia (chapter 5); New Zealand and Fiji (chapter 6); India (chapter 9); South Africa and Nigeria (chapter 10). Ing (2005) describes colonization as a process how a foreign power engages in the superimposition of its value structure and institutions upon another nation for purposes of exploitation. This is similar to Freire’s (1977) notion of ” cultural invasion,” which he notes, is when “They [the colonizers] impose their own values of the world upon those they invade” (p. 133). In a number of chapters that follow, we will observe that European colonizers held strong deficit thinking views of the Indigenous peoples they conquered. These perceptions were frequently in the form of binaries (e.g., superior/inferior; civilized/savage; see Leacock, 1914, Canada, chapter 3; The World and Its People, 1912, New Zealand, chapter 6; York-Powell & Tout, 1900, India, chapter 9; Cornwell, 1850, South Africa, chapter 10)—all discussed in current book. A central argument that some scholars of colonialism underscore is that it has not ended. As such, we see in our environments examples of how colonial, as well as neocolonial relations, manifest

Introduction xxv

and are reproduced in our school systems, workplaces, and other institutions (Dei, 2006). Regarding education, Dei asserts that the anti-colonial mind must engage in decolonization. Challenges to European discourses must be mounted with vigor, including reclamation of the past, and a striving for a school curriculum that is inclusive of the history, heritage, and resistance of a colonized people. 7. Asset-based perspective. As counternarratives to deficit thinking, a number of authors I review—and the book as whole—view marginalized students and their families as having considerable strengths, promises, and agency (e.g., Halvorsen, Heck, & Andrade, 2009; Heaton, 2013; Surland, 2010).9 An illustration of an asset-based perspective is the study by Heaton, which I review in chapter 2 (U.S.A.) of the present volume. The author sought to examine how a small sample of middle school Latino/Latina students (mostly Mexican American) become academically successful, notwithstanding the hurdles they faced (e.g., being low SES; deficit thinking by some teachers who believed the students had poor achievement motivation). Heaton, via interviews, concludes that the successful students, compared to their peers who were not achieving well in school, appeared to be driven by resilience as expressed through (a) personal strengths (having effective communication; able to think critically); (b) environmental factors (e.g., having supportive parents; being taught by teachers who held high expectations of them).

Notes 1 The following section on critical race theory builds on, with revisions, Valencia (2005, pp. 392-393) and Valencia (2008, pp. 2-3). Also, parts of the following Introduction build on, with revisions,Valencia (2015, pp. xxiv-xxv). 2 For overviews of CRT, see, for example, Araujo (1997); Crenshaw, Gotanda, Peller, and Thomas (1995); Delgado and Stefancic (2001). 3 See, for example, López (2003); Parker, Deyhle, and Villenas (1999); Solórzano and Yosso (2000);Valencia (2008). 4 There have also been some spin-off movements within CRT—for example, Asian CRT, known as AsianCrit (see Chang, 1993) and Latina/Latino CRT, known as LatCrit (e.g., García, 1995; Solórzano & Delgado Bernal, 2001). 5 The continents of the world per capita GDP-WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved January 2, 2019 from https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/the-continents-of-the-world-bygdp-per-capita.html. 6 When the data on Latino/Latina children are disaggregated by origin of country, foreign-born children had a poverty rate of 35.2%, and native-born children had a rate of 31.7%. 7 UNICEF (2018). Cited in López-Claros and Nakhjavani (2018, p. 208). 8 Ibid. 9 For other examples of asset-based studies, see: Campos (2013); Lindsey, Karns, and Myatt (2010); Scanlan (2007).

xxvi  Introduction

References Araujo, R.J. (1997). Critical race theory: Contributions to and problems for race relations. Gonzaga Law Review, 32, 537–575. Bourdieu, P. (1977). Outline of a theory of practice. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Campos, D. (2013). Educating Latino boys: An asset-based approach.Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin. Chang, R.S. (1993). Toward an Asian American legal scholarship: Critical race theory, poststructuralism, and narrative space. California Law Review, 81, 1241–1323. Cope, Z. (2015). Divided world, divided classes: Global political economy and the stratification of labour under capitalism (2nd ed.). Montreal, Quebec, Canada: Kersplebedeb. Cornwell, J. (1850). A school geography (7th ed.). London: Simplon, Marshall. Crenshaw, K., Gotanda, N., Peller, G., & Thomas, K. (Eds.) (1995). Critical race theory:The key writings that formed the movement. New York: New Press. Dei, G.J. S. (2006). Introduction: Mapping the terrain—Towards a new politics of resistance. In G.J.S. & A. Kempf (Eds.), Anti-colonialism and education:The politics of resistance (pp.1–23). Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Delgado, R., & Stefancic, J. (2001). Critical race theory: An introduction. New York: New York University Press. Freire, P. (1997). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Seasbury. Frey, W.H. (2018). Diversity explosion: How new racial demographics are remaking America (Rev. ed.). Washington, DC: Brooking Press. García, R. (1995). Critical race theory and Proposition 187: The racial politics of immigration law. Chicano-Latino Law Review, 17, 118–148. Halvorsen, A., Lee, V.E., & Andrade, F.H. (2009). A mixed-method study of teachers’ attitudes about teaching in urban and low-income schools. Urban Education, 44, 181–224. Heaton, D. (2013). Resilience and resistance in academically successful Latino/a students. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Utah State University, Logan. Ing, R. (2005, October). Canada’s Indian residential schools and its impact on mothering. Paper presented at the Mothering, Race, Culture, Ethnicity and Class Conference. Toronto, Canada. Kose, B.W. (2009). The principal’s role in professional development for social justice: An empirically-based transformative framework. Urban Education, 44, 628–663. Ladson-Billings, G., & Tate, W. (1995). Toward a critical race theory of education. Teachers College Record, 97, 47–68. LaViest, T.A. (2005). Disentangling race and socioeconomic status: A key to understanding health inequalities. Journal of Urban Health, 82, 26–34. Leacock, S. (1914). The dawn of Canadian history: A chronicle of Aboriginal Canada and the coming of the white man. Toronto, Canada: Glasgow, Brook and Company. Lindsey, R.B., Karns, M.S., & Myatt, K. (2010). Culturally proficient education: An asset-based response to conditions of poverty. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin. López, G.R. (2003). The (racially neutral) politics of education: A critical race theory perspective. Educational Administrative Quarterly, 39, 68–94. López-Claros, A., & Nakhjavani, B. (2018). Equality for women = prosperity for all:The disastrous global crisis of equality for women. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Mezirow, J. (2012). Learning to think like an adult: Core concepts of transformation theory. In E.W. Taylor, P. Cranton, & Associates (Eds.), The handbook of transformative learning: Theory, research, and practice (pp. 73–95). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Introduction xxvii

Milanovic, B. (2016). Global inequality: A new approach for the age of globabization. Belknap Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Ndimande, B.S. (2016). School choice and inequalities in post-apartheid South Africa. Global Education Review, 3, 33–49. Noguera, P.A. (2009). The achievement gap: Public crisis in education. New Labor Forum, 18, 61–69. Parker, L., Deyhle, D., & Villenas, S. (Eds.). (1999). Race is…race isn’t: Critical race theory and qualitative studies in education. Boulder, CO: Westview. Pearl, A. (2002). The big picture: Sytemic and institutional factors in Chicano school failure and success. In R.R.Valencia (Ed.). Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (2nd ed., pp. 335–364). London: RoutledgeFalmer. Scanlan, M. (2007). An asset-based approach to linguistic diversity. Focus on Teacher Education, 7, 3–5, 7. Solomon, R.P., Portelli, J.P., Daniel, B.J., & Campbell, A. (2005). The discourse of denial: How white teacher candidates construct race, racism and white privilege. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8, 147–169. Solórzano, D.G. (1998). Critical race theory, race and gender microaggressions, and the experience of Chicana and Chicano scholars. Qualitative Studies in Education, 11, 121–136. Solórzano, D.G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context. Urban Education, 36, 308–342. Solórzano, D.G., & Yosso, T. (2000). Toward a critical race theory of Chicana and Chicano education. In C. Tejada, C. Martínez, Z. Leonardo, & P. McLaren (Eds.). Charting new terrains of Chicana(o)/Latina(o) education (pp. 35–65). Cresskill, NJ: Hampton. Surland, R. (2010). Student voices: Self-efficacy and graduating high school. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Wichita State University, Wichita, Kansas. Taylor, E. (1998). A primer on critical race theory: Who are the critical race theorists and what are they saying? Journal of Blacks in Higher Education, 19, 122–124. The world and its people. (1912). The world with special references to Great Britain. London: Nelson & Sons. UNICEF. (2018). Literacy among youth is rising, but young women lag behind. Available at https:// data.unicef.org/topic/education/literacy/. Valencia, R.R. (2005). The Mexican American struggle for equal educational opportunity in Mendez v.Westminster: Helping to pave the way for Brown v. Board of Education. Teachers College Record, 107, 389–423. Valencia, R.R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York: New York University Press. Valencia, R.R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York: Routledge. Valencia, R.R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York: Routledge. Valencia, R.R., & Suzuki, L.A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology Series. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Weems, M.T. (2013). Voices from the field: Stories of social justice leaders. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Texas State University, San Marcos. York-Powell, F., & Tout, T. (1900). History of England. London: Longsman. Yosso, T.J. (2006). Critical race counterstories along the Chicana/Chicano educational pipeline. New York: Routledge.

1 THE CONSTRUCT OF DEFICIT THINKING

This introductory chapter dissects the construct of deficit thinking in the context of international educational thought and practice. In doing so, I frame this discussion around (a) the notion of school failure and the achievement gap, (b) theoretical perspectives proffered to explain such school failure, and (c) seven characteristics of deficit thinking.

School Failure and the Achievement Gap Widespread and intractable school failure has been experienced, and continues to be the case, for millions and millions of students worldwide. Drawing from Valencia (2011), school failure is the persistently, pervasively, and disproportionately low academic achievement that primarily affects low-SES children and youth of color, immigrant, Indigenous, nomadic, special education, and English learner (EL) students.1 A finer-grained analysis of school failure can be conducted by incorporating a quantifiable index, referred to as “the achievement gap” (hereafter referred to as TAG) (Valencia, 2015, chapter 1). This gap signals an incontrovertible reality in global education: A sizable achievement chasm exists between marginalized students (particularly in terms of race and class) and their advantaged White peers (data presented in later chapters of present volume). TAG is not confined to achievement test performance (e.g., reading), but it also manifests in other achievement indicators (e.g., grade retention; school holding power [dropouts]; matriculation to college; college graduation [baccalaureate and post baccalaureate]; Valencia, 2015, chapter 1). As a case in point, a substantial proportion of African American, Mexican

2  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

American, Puerto Rican, other Latino/Latina, and American Indian elementary, middle, and high school students in the United States—compared to their White peers—face school failure, as evidenced, for example, by low levels of reading achievement and high rates of school dropouts (chapter 2, present volume). In regard to the achievement chasm in other countries, TAG is clearly present in Canada, as evidenced in the finding that 29% of Aboriginal peoples have not finished high school—in comparison to 12% of non-Aboriginals (chapter 3, present volume). In Brazil, about 65% of economically disadvantaged school-age children and 14% of economically favored children completed 8 years of schooling (chapter 4, present volume). In a comparison of TAG for Indigenous and non-Indigenous Grade 9 students in the North Territory of Australia, the latter students outperformed the former pupils in reading, writing, and numeracy (chapter 5, present volume). Regarding Māori students (age 17.5 years) in New Zealand, 40% were enrolled in school—compared to 62% of the total group (chapter 6, current volume). In England, Black students at key testing periods (in primary, middle, and secondary school) performed substantially lower than their White counterparts in mathematics (chapter 7, present volume). TAG is also seen in Belgium, where Moroccan and Turkish students have been found to achieve considerably lower (e.g., primary grade completion) than their native Belgian peers (chapter 8, current volume). In India, lower-caste students, compared to upper-caste pupils, have higher dropout rates from secondary school (chapter 9, present volume). Finally, Black students of college age enrollment (20- to 24-year-old cohort) in South Africa are enrolled in universities in much smaller proportions (12%) compared to their White peers (54%) (chapter 10, present volume). How does one best explain the incontestable international fact that a persistent and pervasive academic gulf exists in countries that have been colonized or have marginalized immigrant groups? What theoretical models have been advanced to best account for the academic achievement disparities between students—who have been marginalized by racial, class, language, and gender bias—and their economically advantaged White student counterparts?

Theoretical Perspectives Advanced to Explain School Failure and TAG In my view, there are at least four competing models to explicate school failure: (a) cultural-ecological, (b) communication process, (c) systemic inequality, and (d) deficit thinking. Elsewhere, I have explicated these theories (Valencia, 2015, chapter 2). As such, here I will touch upon the first three, and expound on deficit thinking—given its centrality in the present volume.

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 3

Cultural-Ecological Model The late educational anthropologist, John U. Ogbu, is credited for developing the cultural-ecological model (CEM). In his many writings, Ogbu advances a typology of “minorities” in the United States, to wit: (a) “autonomous” (e.g., Mormons; Jews); (b) “immigrant” (Chinese; Punjabi); (c) “involuntary” or “castelike” (e.g., African American; Mexican American; Puerto Rican; American Indian) (Ogbu, 1978, 1990, 1991, 2003; Ogbu & Simons, 1998). He maintains that autonomous and immigrant group members have a high value for education and do undergo the experiences of assimilation and acculturation. These students do have adjustment problems, but they do not experience protracted adaptation issues. By contrast, castelike minorities—who came unwillingly to the United States (e.g., Blacks via slavery; Kolchi, 2003)—or were colonized (e.g., Mexican Americans; Acuña, 2007), or were conquered (e.g., American Indians; Stannard, 1992) experience chronic problems in adjustment and academic achievement. In his CEM, Ogbu (2008a) argues that castelike minority students, particularly Blacks, develop a dysfunctional oppositional identity and culture toward achievement motivation. In a seminal 1-year ethnography in a 99% Black high school in Washington, D.C., Fordham and Ogbu (1986) reported that Black students expressed a number of attitudes and behaviors that characterize “acting White,” which are unacceptable (e.g., “working hard to get good grades,” “speaking standard English”) (p.186). As such, Black students develop an anti-achievement ideology, according to Fordham and Ogbu. Notwithstanding Ogbu’s important scholarship on the systemic discrimination and academic disengagement experienced by students of color in the United States (with an emphasis on Black students), a substantial corpus of publications exists that provides critiques of Ogbu’s CEM. Based on a content analysis I have conducted of this body of literature, I have placed the publications in six categories of criticism that make most sense to me: (a) ahistorical; (b) sampling problems; (c) deterministic; (d) deficit thinking; (e) ignores student heterogeneity; (f ) counterevidence of oppositional culture (Valencia, 2015, p. 48, Table 2.1).2 It is this last category that contains, by far, the most critiques, numbering over two dozen publications.3

Communication Process Model The earliest variant of this model to explain school failure and TAG stems from the intense debate of the late 1960s and early 1970s in the United States and England (see Williams, 1970) in which some scholars (mostly psychologists) asserted that children living in poverty had language that was “deficient” due to accumulated environmental deficits4 (e.g., Blank, 1970; Engelmann, 1970). On the other hand, there were scholars (mostly linguists) who posited that poor children

4  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

(primarily of color) had language that was merely “different” (e.g., Baratz, 1970; Baratz & Baratz, 1970; Labov, 1970). Blank, a deficit thinker, maintained that children of poverty, compared to their White middle-class peers, had developed inadequate languages structures and possessed restrictive linguistic codes,5 and thus needed “language-based tutorial programs” (Blank, 1970; pp. 73–76). By noticeable contrast, some scholars, for example Baratz (1970), argued that the research by psychologists was quite naive regarding the conclusions about poor children’s language (e.g., the assertions that a child’s linguistic system could not be fully developed and that it was not rule governed). Although the “deficient” perspective regarding language has been debunked (e.g., Cazden, 1970; DudleyMarling & Lucas, 2009; Labov, 1970), on occasion one can see it surface in contemporary literature (e.g., Hart & Risley, 1995).6 As the communication process model evolved, it started to move away from the binary deficient/different debate to a discourse that began to underscore that linguistic differences, verbal and nonverbal communication styles, teacher-student conflict, and marked boundaries may effect students’ academic achievement. The pioneering work of Frederick Erickson is noteworthy as it appears that he coined the term “communication process” in an article intended to expand our understanding of various explanations of school failure among students of color, particularly of low-SES background (Erickson, 1987). The communication process model, he states, underscores the function of culturally acquired communication styles of students and teachers in creating conflict that helps to explain poor academic achievement of low-SES students of color. Erickson comments that teachers and students, mainly in the lower grades, have differences in perceptions of what is appropriate verbal and nonverbal behavior. In general, members of different speech networks have different assumptions about the intentions of various types of communication (e.g., irony; disinterest; sincerity). Based on supporting evidence, Erickson (1987) maintains that in the classroom cultural differences sometimes exist between teachers and students in the ways they speak and listen.7 These dissimilarities in speech networks trigger routine and repeated classroom miscommunication. An example Erickson provides is the case of a child who is raised in a speech network in which direct eye contact is considered impolite. By comparison, if the teacher is socialized in a speech network in which direct eye contact is considered paying attention, miscommunication may ensue. As a result, the teacher who may interpret this communicative event from a deficit thinking perspective, concludes that the child is unmotivated—rather than accurately perceiving the event as a cultural difference. The communication process model as a framework to understand school failure of marginalized students has garnered considerable attention in the United States, covering various student groups of color, such as: Black (e.g., Delpit,

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 5

1995; Hale, 1986; Irvine, 1990), American Indian (e.g., Philips, 1983), and Hawaiian (e.g., Au, 1980). As well, the communication process model has also been applied in other countries (e.g., Samoan paraprofessionals and Samoan students in Australia; Singh, 2010). Notwithstanding the importance of the communication process model, it is not without limitations. First, the model can be perceived as somewhat insular when considered in view of the many systemic aspects that create schooling inequalities for marginalized students, such as school segregation, poor teacher quality, and unfavorable curriculum differentiation (see Valencia, 2015). Often the model fails to discuss factors such as these that clearly play a role in thwarting the academic success, for example, of low-SES Black and Latino/Latina students in the United States (e.g., Oakes, 2005; Valencia, 2011, chapter 2; Valencia, 2015, chapters 4, 5, and 7). Second, if the model is not appropriately applied, it can lead some teachers to rationalize (incorrectly) their behavior. That is, when teaching culturally different children, teachers may engage in deficit thinking by believing that the students’ inattentiveness is the children’s own fault, rather than seeing that unaccommodated cultural differences are the basis for the students not paying attention, which leads to their incomprehension of the lessons and poor academic performance (e.g., as reported in Philips, 1983).

Systemic Inequality Model The systemic inequality model (hereafter referred to as SIM) is the most difficult to pin down conceptually because of its complex makeup and workings. Based on my sense of the extant scholarship, I believe the SIM can be best understood by identifying a number of characteristics that shape the framework. I am not assuming that all scholars who write about and subscribe to the SIM agree with and cover all of the following six features. My discussion is intended to capture the configuration of the SIM in a broad, not exclusive manner. 1. System. In a colloquial manner, a system is viewed as a set of variables that are mutually dependent (Rozycki, 1999). In a more logical and precise way, Rozycki notes that a system has a set of variables, suggesting that each variable remains a function of each element in the group. In a similar fashion, Harary and Batell (1981) underscore that common to all conceptions of a system is that the various components are interrelated and there exists some type of hierarchical structure among the units. In the context of the SIM and education, the conception of a system discussed by Pearl (2002)—noted for his writings on the SIM—is helpful. He comments: “Systemic refers to established processes whereby values, traditions, hierarchies, styles, and attitudes are deeply embedded into the political, economic, and cultural structures of any society” (p. 336). He continues by stating that contemporary

6  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

systems are strongly influenced by chronicled forces, and this history establishes—often via muted or masked forms—the ways by which certain groups (e.g., African Americans, Mexican Americans, and Puerto Ricans in the United States) are oppressively incorporated and excluded from positions of control and dominance (also, see Brantlinger, 2003). 2. Comprehensiveness. Because schools are not neutral grounds (e.g., Anyon, 2011; Apple, 1979), and due to the inextricable connections between economic forces and what transpires in schools (e.g., Bowles & Gintis, 1976, 2011; Rothstein, 2004; Valencia, 2015), SIM scholars assert that a comprehensive approach must be employed to fully understand TAG and the racialized, class-based, and gender-based nature of public education in countries that have enrollments of marginalized students.8 3. Reproduction. The debate over how societies and cultures carry on and preserve themselves is longstanding, and can be traced to the writing of Aristotle 2 millennia ago (Barker, 1962). In modern times, a major mechanism believed to assist in societal and cultural perpetuation has been, and continues to be, the educational system. Do schools, however, truly serve as the “great equalizer,” as enthusiastically expressed by Horace Mann in 1848 (Cremin, 1957, p. 8)? Mann, considered the “father of public education” in the United States, believed that education was a valuable means, especially for the poor, to gain upward mobility. But, the question remains: Do schools really equalize opportunities between the poor and the economically advantaged? Or, do schools reproduce and reinforce the existing economic inequalities in society (Collins, 2009)? Social reproduction theory, a key feature of the SIM, answers the latter question with a resounding ‘“yes.” The analyses of the notion of reproduction, which has its origins in Marxist thought (Anyon, 2011; Collins, 2009), surfaced in the 1960s and held theoretical import until the 1990s (Collins, 2009). In regard to economic reproduction—a highly popular strand of theorizing how schools act as reproductive mechanisms—the foundational scholarship in this area is credited to the Bowles and Gintis (1976) influential book, Schooling in Capitalist America: Education Reform and the Contradictions of Economic Life. The authors advance the perspective that via the “correspondence principle,” schools prepare some future workers to function compliantly in the workplace. Bowles and Gintis (1976) largely focus on the implicit curriculum that socializes students, via differential teacher-student interactions and rewards based on social class, in a structure remarkably similar to the arrangement of a stratified world of work. Bowles and Gintis (1976, 2002, 2011) also demonstrate that parents’ SES is transmitted to their children, and that this class-based intergenerational inequality is largely due to the socializing influences of schooling and familial economic advantages, and is explained only in part by the cognitive abilities the students acquire in schools.9

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 7

4. Hegemony. In the SIM, hegemony is a focal point of discourse. Hegemonic ideologies and practices are oppressive and are used unfairly to keep a group of people in a dominated and inferior position. With respect to economic reproduction, Italian revolutionary Antonio Gramsci originated the concept of hegemony in his description of the dominance of capitalism (Hoare & Nowell-Smith, 1971; cited in Anyon, 2011).10 Later scholarship argued that capitalism was not the only form of hegemony. As such, sexism became a prime subject of interest (e.g., Weis, 1990, 2004; also, see Collins, 1992, 2009). Furthermore, racism, via CRT scholarship, has emerged as an important aspect of the discourse on hegemony. Examples of scholars advancing the significant role of racism in understanding racialized opportunities in education, White privilege, and the subordination of low-SES students of color are Ladson-Billings and Tate (1995), Solórzano and Yosso (2000), Valencia (2005, 2008, 2015), and Yosso (2006). 5. Resistance. Contrary to widespread belief, this feature does not characterize all of the SIMs. As a case in point, it principally does not describe the highly deterministic theories (e.g., Bowles & Gintis, 1976). Nonetheless, the notion of resistance has become a valuable heuristic in the discourse on critical pedagogy and cultural/social reproduction (e.g., Darder, 1991; De Jesús, 2005; Giroux, 1983a; Morrow & Torres, 1995; Solórzano & Delgado Bernal, 2001). Darder points out that schools are dynamic sites in which hegemonic practices must be constantly defended by those in power. When there are openings for contestation, however, oppressed students’ counternarratives can break through the dominant shield, and via resistance, insist on equality and liberation.11 6. Widespread reform. Individuals who write about and champion widespread reform maintain that ameliorating the schools is simply not enough (e.g., Anyon, 1997, 2005; Noguera, 2009; Ornstein, 2007; Rothstein, 2004; Valencia, 2015). Although such scholars vary in the breadth, depth, and targets of their reform proposals, what they appear to have in common is that TAG is inextricably connected to the unrelenting and pervasive inequality deeply and systemically embedded in all spheres of U.S. society— as well as in other countries in which social stratification and oppression are present. The SIM informs us that school reform (e.g., detracking) is indeed essential to accomplish, but it needs to be done in tandem with other types of improvement, particularly involving (a) the dramatic diminution of inequalities in income, housing, and health care; (b) oppressive schooling conditions (e.g., segregation, poor teacher quality, language suppression and cultural exclusion; (c) more attention to parental engagement and empowerment and student agency and empowerment; see Valencia, 2015).

8  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

Notwithstanding these strengths of the SIM, it is not without its detractors. First, some renditions of the SIM—especially earlier models (e.g., Bowles & Gintis, 1976)—have been criticized as being quite deterministic. Some critics have argued that schools are more than reproductive factories of class stratification (e.g., Apple, 1982; Giroux, 1983a). Schools are also sites of resistance by students (Solórzano & Delgado Bernal, 2001)—and in some cases, teachers (Marx, 2006) and administrators (McKenzie & Scheurich, 2004) who employ their agency to contest the oppressive nature of schooling and struggle for needed change. In short, critics have found the determinism of the earlier SIMs unpalatable because the authors were far removed from the actual day-to-day life of what transpired in many classrooms and schools (i.e., agency and transformation). A second criticism of some SIMs is that they are highly descriptive and lack prescription for meaningful, democratic school reform. Even some scholars who denounce schools as institutions of oppression and espouse “critical pedagogy” as an emancipatory curriculum have come under fire. Pearl (2002), as a case in point, asserts that a number of scholars—who agree that schools are maintained and perpetuated around systemic inequality—are themselves quite detached from the classroom they want to reform (e.g., McLaren, 1995, 1998). Pearl (2002) notes that these individuals are imprecise in their reform strategies and use language that is inaccessible and elitist. Furthermore, Morrow and Torres (1995) concur, commenting that scholars who write about resistance discourse (e.g., Giroux, 1983a, 1983b) suffer from considerably high degrees of abstraction and sweeping generalizations.

Deficit Thinking Model As a point of introduction, it is important to make a distinction between science and pseudoscience (Valencia, 2009). Science pertains to an evidence-based theoretical framework—sound assumptions; testable hypotheses; reliable and valid instruments; appropriate methodology; objectivity; willingness to consider competing interpretations for one’s findings. By contrast, the deficit thinking model can best be characterized as a mindset driven and molded by a confluence of science and ideology, resulting in pseudoscience. As I discuss later, pseudoscience is a major characteristic of deficit thinking. Nonetheless, it is important to investigate deficit thinking as a theoretical construct, particularly the linkages between educability perceptions of marginalized students and curricular interventions. Although my colleagues and I (Valencia 1997a, 1997b, 2010, 2013, 2015), and numerous other scholars in the United States and in other countries (see present volume) have roundly debunked deficit thinking in education, the model is still widespread and continues to influence educational thought and practice, and thus deserves our attention. The remainder of this discussion on the deficit thinking model is organized around

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 9

the following: (1) origin and early history of the model; (2) three variants of the model; (3) seven characteristics of deficit thinking. 1. Origin and early history of deficit thinking. Of the four theories advanced to explain school failure, the deficit thinking model has had the longest currency, having roots in several centuries past. Menchaca (1997) provides a comprehensive examination of the roots of deficit thinking and delineates how racist discourses impacted race relations and eventually the schooling of students of color. As Menchaca underscores, Whites—especially British with economic interests—colonized indigenous people (e.g., in Australia; New Zealand; United States) based on ideological, religious, economic, and racial justifications. Menchaca (1997) asserts that over time nascent racism and exploitative relations between the colonizer and the colonized were further maintained and rationalized by the monogenist versus polygenist debate in the early 1730s (also, see Stocking, 1968). Menchaca notes that theorists of monogenism alleged, using biblical allegories, that a common origin existed for humankind. By sharp contrast, polygenist theorists argued that humankind had divergent origins, and that “races” (i.e., separate species) evolved at different times.12 Polygenists, thus contended, that there was a racial hierarchy of superiority (cognitively and culturally) with Whites (i.e., Anglo Saxons) at the top and African Blacks and Australian Aboriginals at the bottom (see Galton, 1870). In the early to mid-1800s, polygenist belief in the United States was fortified via “scientific” evidence. Samuel G. Morton, physician and natural scientist, conducted extensive measurements on the cranial capacity of skulls of various “races” (Gould, 1978). Morton concluded that Whites had the largest cranial capacity thus they were the most intelligent, American Indians were intermediate, and Blacks were at the bottom.13 We need to be mindful that such scientific racism became an ideological tool to justify the segregation and oppression of Blacks via slavery. Early deficit thinking was also shaped by another form of rationalization—the religious belief among the White colonizers that they were “God’s Chosen People.” This doctrine is discussed in the chapter 2 (The United States of America) section, “Conquest and Colonization,” present volume. 2. Three variants of the model. Historical and contemporary discourse informs us that deficit thinking is characterized as having three theoretical components: the genetic pathology model, the culture of poverty model, and the “at-risk” model in which low-SES students of color, and other marginalized students and their families, are pathologized and putatively the makers of their own problems (Valencia, 2012). The three variants can operate singularly or in combination. Depending on the zeitgeist of the times, one

10  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

of the three models can surface as the primary explanation of school failure (Valencia, 1997a). Given that the three variants have been discussed in detail elsewhere, here I just provide summaries of the models.14 A. Genetic pathology model. This model, which has its roots in the 1920s in the United States and coincided with the rise of the intelligence testing movement (Valencia, 1997b), is a particularly virulent form of deficit thinking because of the belief (erroneous, that is) among early hereditarians and later neohereditarians that intelligence was fixed at the point of embryonic conception and thus immalleable during the life cycle. This binary doctrine held that intellectual inferiority among some groups, and intellectual superiority among other groups, was genetic in basis. Such a pessimistic view was, and continues to be, quite disheartening for low-SES students of color and Indigenous pupils because they typically score lower than the norms on measures of intelligence (largely due to differences in opportunity to learn, cultural and linguistic loading on tests, and test bias; see Valencia, 1997b, 2010, chapter 2, 2013; Valencia & Suzuki, 2000). Although the genetic pathology model in the context of deficit thinking has been sharply critiqued (Valencia, 1997b, 2010, chapter 2, 2013), we must remain vigilant regarding this variant as it continues to surface on occasion (e.g., Lynn & Vanhanen, 2002; Richwine, 2009). In chapter 2 (The United States of America) of present volume, section on “Neohereditarianism,” I discuss a contemporary example. B. Culture of poverty model. At its core, this variant is strongly driven by deficit thinking—asserting that the poor are the producers of their own material disadvantagement, deprivation, and school failure. Throughout human history, unequal social and economic orders have persisted, leading to attitudes of the “haves” toward the “have-nots” that can be characterized as suspicious and dehumanizing in which the economically advantaged blame the least fortunate for their inferior position (Goode, 2002).15 The term “culture of poverty” was coined by cultural anthropologist, Oscar Lewis, in his 1959 book, Five Families: Mexican Case Studies in the Culture of Poverty (see Valencia, 2010, chapter 3). The insular, autonomous, fatalistic, and dysfunctional nature of Lewis’s culture of poverty notion evokes a powerful pathological image of the poor— a depiction of people with self-imposed, intractable, and transgenerational problems. Although the culture of poverty model has been incisively refuted (see, e.g., Foley, 1997; Valencia, 2009, 2010, chapter 3), it continues to receive considerable attention in contemporary times, as evidenced, for example, by the deficit thinking work of Ruby Payne regarding poor children and their families (see Payne, 2005).16

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 11

Given the prevalence of worldwide poverty,17 it will be of great interest to examine in the literature review that follows the extent teachers and administrators proffer a culture of poverty explanation for the school failure of marginalized students. C. At-risk model.18 Given the path of its evolution, this variant of deficit thinking is a bit more difficult to follow. Lewis (1959) formulates his culture of poverty model in such an unequivocal and detached fashion that it became “easy [for others] to appropriate [it] as a literal, absolute truth claim” (Foley, 1997, p. 116). As the culture of poverty idea penetrated the vocabulary of 1960s scholars, Lewis’s notion became redefined as cultural defects and weaknesses (Katz, 1989). The 1960s gushed with scholarly literature on a new social construction—the “culturally deprived” or “culturally disadvantaged” child. The development of the “culturally deprived” child was believed to be influenced by alleged cultural and accumulated deficits in the family and home environment (Pearl, 1997).19 Most of the early writing on cultural deprivation was largely psychological in nature (e.g., Edwards, 1967; Frost & Hawkes, 1966; Hellmuth, 1967). Later, sociological scholarship—directly or indirectly influenced by Lewis’s culture of poverty concept—centered on the putative dysfunctional “way of life” of the poor (e.g., Auletta, 1982; Banfield, 1970; Moynihan, 1965).20 The contemporary conception and usage of the at-risk construct can be traced to the powerful and controversial report, A Nation at Risk: The Imperative for Educational Reform (National Commission on Excellence in Education, 1983). The commission attempts to shame U.S. public education by underscoring the “rising tide of mediocrity” (p. 5) in educational achievement that threatens the future of the nation. To rectify the problem, the report offers a number of recommendations guided by a common theme— an emphasis on quantity (e.g., more required coursework; more time spent on learning; higher standards; see Valencia, 2010, chapter 4). Later, a preoccupation arose with developing predictors of students who were predisposed, or at risk, for school failure. These inventories of alleged at-risk indictors include, for example, grade retention, low academic achievement, and poor attendance (e.g., see Frymier & Gansneder, 1989; Slavin, 1989). Little attention was paid to the role of systemic inequality in creating school failure (Valencia, 2015). Another target of the at-risk discourse is the low-SES parent of color. The assertion is that such parents typically do not value the importance of education, fail to inculcate this value in their children via academic socialization, and seldom participate in parental involvement activities. This is a major myth, and there is ample counterevidence to debunk it (e.g., Moreno & Valencia, 2011; Valencia, 2015, chapter 8; Valencia & Black, 2002).

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In sum, the literature on the at-risk model of deficit thinking has little scientific merit. It has been heavily critiqued for promoting stereotypes (Levin, 1992), ignoring the literature that strongly shows low-SES parents of color do indeed value education (Valencia, 2015, chapter 8), and fails to acknowledge the strengths, competencies, and promise of marginalized students (Swadener & Lubeck, 1995). The at-risk notion has been widely examined in the U.S. literature. It will be of interest to see how the construct has been applied in other countries to explain school failure. 3. Seven Characteristics of Deficit Thinking In the remainder of this chapter, my goal is to elaborate on the theory of deficit thinking. I do so by discussing seven features of the model in the following contexts: (A) blaming the victim; (B) Othering and binarization; (C) oppression; (D) pseudoscience; (E) temporal changes; (F) educability; (G) heterodoxy. A. Blaming the victim: Law of parsimony and fundamental attribution error. Deficit thinking is a model that is based on considerable imputation, and a paucity of documentation. About 50 years ago, William Ryan offered the social sciences Blaming the Victim (1971). With the striking force of a 2 × 4 lumber, Ryan’s blow to the backbone of deficit thinking in the United States was clearly felt. In a penetrating, well documented, and impassioned treatise, his social construction of the phrase, “blaming the victim,” masterfully got to the core of the nature of deficit thinking.21 Ryan’s book was refreshing to many U.S. scholars and policymakers who opposed the demonization of low-SES people of color, given that deficit thinking hit its apex in the 1960s with respect to volume of literature, policy interventions, and popularity (Pearl, 1997; Valencia & Solórzano, 1997). Ryan’s Blaming the Victim was especially valuable in exposing the ideological base of deficit thinking (i.e., the more powerful blame the innocent) and in showing us how deficit thinking translated to practice. First, social problems were identified (by victim blamers). Second, a study was conducted to find out how the disadvantaged and advantaged were different. Third, once the differences were identified, they were defined as the causes of the social (or educational) problem. Fourth, governmental intervention was set in play to correct the differences (i.e., deficiencies). The great appeal of deficit thinking as a model of social reform in the 1960s and 1970s lay in the framework’s appearance of simplicity and soundness. In reference to the above four steps, Ryan notes: “All of this happens so smoothly that it seems downright rational” (p. 8). a. Law of parsimony. Building on Ryan’s (1971) above notion of rationality, I believe one can advance a powerful argument as to why some scholars, educators, policymakers, and laypeople are attracted

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 13

to and engage in deficit thinking. In the context of understanding the psychology of culpability, deficit thinking is a type of cognition that is a relatively simple and efficient form of attributing the “cause” of human behavior. My reasoning here stems from what we know about the “law of parsimony”—also known as “Ockham’s razor” (Borowski, 2012).22 The law of parsimony appears to have originated in the incipient study of animal behavior in psychology. Nagge (1932) tentatively expresses the principle as: “Of any possible number of explanations of an animal act the simplest possible explanation should be employed” (p. 493). Over the decades, the law of parsimony has become a commonplace explanatory proposition in discussions regarding behavioral laws in histories of psychology. As Simonton (1995) comments, “Supposedly, the human mind is so designed that it prefers simple explanations over complex explanations. Often this preference is carried out to the extreme, where reality is shortchanged” (p. 93). This latter point is well taken, as such extremism can lead to dangerous reductionism—and deficit thinking. b. Fundamental attribution error. In addition to the law of parsimony, a second body of social psychological literature from which I draw to better understand the lure of simplicity of deficit thinking as an explanation for behavior is fundamental attribution error (Ross & Nisbett, 1991).23 In this type of error, it has been found that individuals have a tendency to attribute the social and psychological behavior of others to “dispositional” factors (i.e., internal to a person) more so than to “situational” factors (i.e., external to a person). The fundamental attribution error occurs in those instances when an individual, while looking for causality, greatly underestimates situational factors (Ross & Nisbett). Let me illustrate this. In her doctoral investigation, Williams (2008) examined inservice teachers’ beliefs about the educability of Black elementary students. The school, located in the Northwest region of the United States, is predominantly Black (68%; 92% students of color; 100% Title I pupils). Based on results of focus group discussions with 12 White, female teachers, Williams reports that the “theme of deficit thinking was pervasive throughout the data” (p. 106) regarding students and their parents. With respect to fundamental attribution error, one teacher, who recalled the time a parent failed to show up for a conference, stated: “I suspect she was napping” (p. 110). Notice the teacher’s preoccupation of using a dispositional aspect to explain the mother’s behavior, and giving short shrift to situational factors. A competing, situational explanation could have been that the mother’s baby took ill, and she had to take the child to the local medical clinic. Perhaps

14  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

the mother’s car broke down on the way to the conference. Maybe the bus failed to arrive at the regular stop. And so on. In conclusion, the law of parsimony and fundamental attribution error strongly assist us in understanding the blaming the victim feature of deficit thinking. The reductionist nature of this law and attribution tendency, as such, raises serious concerns about deficit thinking as a legitimate scientific principle of attribution. Given the parsimonious and error-filled nature of deficit thinking, it is not unexpected that advocates of the theory fail to look for external attributions of an individual student’s school failure. These deficit thinkers hold exculpatory how society and schools are organized to thwart learning and school success. Systemic inequalities at the macro-, meso-, and microlevels are largely ignored in understanding school failure, and thus cut off discourse on how to promote broad-based, democratic school improvement (Valencia, 2015). Large-scale school reform is complex, highly demanding, and expensive. In sum, deficit thinkers eschew systemic approaches to school amelioration and focus on the easy and safe solution: “Fix” the individual student. B. Othering and binarization. These two processes are highly interconnected. Intrinsic to deficit thinking is Othering, the process that those in power demonize the out-group by making a difference into a value laden referent. These perceptions lead to a categorical process, binarization, in which binary logic and language is used to reference the in-group as “us” and the out-group is labelled as “them.” a. Othering. The concept of Othering was made popular by Edward Said (1978) in Orientalism. In his classic book, Said discusses how the Occident (the West) via “a collection of stereotypes, distortions, and fantasies” has been used to dominate the Orient (the East) (Shabanirad & Marandi, 2015, p. 22). This process of Othering is viewed as “transforming a difference into otherness so as to create an in-group and an out-group” (Staszak, 2009, p. 43).24 Staszak notes that Othering involves several key points. First, the notion of difference pertains to the sphere of fact, and Otherness lay in the realm of discourse. For example, “biological sex is difference, whereas gender is otherness” (p. 44). Second, Othering connotes an asymmetrical power relationship. Only the preeminent group has the status to dictate the value of their own distinctiveness and devalue the distinctiveness of the Other, while imposing discriminatory practices and policies.25 Thus, Othering is one-sided. For example, “If the Other of the White Man is the Black Man, the opposite is not true” (p. 44). Third, out-groups can terminate to be

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 15

Others when they manage to extricate themselves from their forced oppression by the dominant group. b. Binarization. The construction of binaries involves either/or logic (Singh, 2011; Staszak, 2009). In deficit thinking, such logic leads to a polarization or dichotomy, in which one segment is created as being normal and the other part is framed as being deficient, deviant, or pathological. I assert that a basic distinction between Othering and binarization in deficit thinking is: Othering involves the construction of difference, while binarization, via value laden linguistic referents, is used to explain the differences. For two reasons, Staszak comments that the ubiquity of binary logic is embedded in the tradition of Western society. First, Western thought incorporates logic that is “attached to the principle of identity, the law of noncontradiction and the law of the excluded middle since the time of Aristotle” (p. 44). Such thinking, Staszak continues, has produced numerous binaries with socially constructed positive and negative connotations (e.g., male/female; healthy/ill; White/Black). Second, via colonization the West was able to export and impose its ethnocentric values of superiority over Indigenous peoples and develop its own identity at the expense of Othering those who were conquered. In the present volume, there are many binaries along the lines of deficit thinking. As a matter of introduction, here are several illustrations. Lightfoot (2004) notes that some U.S. scholars in their writings perceive White and Black parents via the binaries of “full/empty” and “having/lacking,” with the former group deemed superior and the latter group constructed as inferior (chapter 2, The United Staes of America). Gould (2009) comments that some White teachers of young Aboriginal students believe they have a home language that is “deficient” and “wrong.” The implied positive segment of the binary is “normal and “correct” and is a referent to White English-speaking students (chapter 5, Australia). Abdullahi, Adekeye and Shehu (2011) note that in Nigeria females are devalued. An example of this is seen in the construction of the ‘“dominant/subordinate” binary, in which the former part refers to boys and men and the latter segment refers to girls and women (chapter 10, Nigeria). C. Oppression. In light of the “victim-blamers/victims” relationship of deficit thinking and the lop-sided power arrangements between deficit thinkers and low-SES marginalized students and their families, the theory has led, and continues to lead, to oppression of those at the fringes of society. An act of oppression, which is typically conceptualized as the use of cruel and unjust use of authority and power to keep a group of marginalized people in their place, is another characteristic of

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deficit thinking. A number of pages of this book contain examples of how historical and contemporary acts of oppression have been utilized as means of keeping students and others in second-class positions by policies/practices fueled by racial-, class-, gender-, and language-based deficit thinking. Some illustrations, on a sequential chapter-by-chapter basis, are: Chapter 2 (The United States of America): The historical forced segregation of Mexican American and Black students in inferior, underfunded, and underesourced public schools.26 Chapter 3 (Canada): Racist remarks directed to Aboriginal university students by White professors and White students. Chapter 4 (Latin America (Brazil; Costa Rica; Mexico; Peru)): The imposition of “gender destiny” in which females are treated as second-class citizens reading their educational futures. Chapter 5 (Australia): The school policy in some locations to discourage low-achieving Aboriginal students from continuing school after reaching 15 years of age. Chapter 6 (New Zealand (Fiji)): The Pakeka (Indigenous Māori term for people of European ancestry) historical practice of implementing a monolingual, monocultural dominance of education over Māori students. Chapter 7 (England): A Black Caribbean adult (educational consultant), who recalls when he was 13 years old, being called a “gollywog” and “jungle bunny” by his White classmates and teacher. Chapter 8 (Other European Countries (Ireland; Belgium)): The censorship faced by Turkish secondary students who were disallowed from accessing a Turkish language newspaper, Hurriyet, on the media center computer. Chapter 9 (Asia (India; China)): The devaluation of giving birth to females, which in turn leads to lasting and severe discrimination in education, the work force, and property rights for girls and women. Chapter 10 (Africa (South Africa; Nigeria)): The passage of the Bantu Education Act of 1958 during apartheid, which gave the Minister of Education complete control, for instance, in matters of hiring teachers and the development of class syllabi. D. Pseudoscience. Blum (1978) succinctly captures the meaning of pseudoscience by defining it as a “process of false persuasion by scientific pretense” (p. 12). I assert that this denotation soundly characterizes deficit thinking. To some extent, the appeal of deficit thinking comes from the theory’s wrapping—the “scientific method.” We are all familiar with the core of the scientific method, empirical verification. Science rests on the process that begins with sound assumptions and clear conjectures

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(or hypotheses), moves through the operation of collecting data with reliable and valid tools, controls for key independent variables, and concludes with objective empirical confirmation (or disconfirmation) of the initial conjectures. Violations of these procedures can, and do, characterize just sloppy research. Yet, the basic difference between pseudoscience and legitimate scientific research lies in the degree of researcher bias (which is ubiquitous), as well as the degree of vigor with which the researcher pursues hypothesis confirmation (Blum). He also comments that in addition to the above distinction between science and pseudoscience, two different occurrences must occur. First, the deficit thinker must make attempts at verification that are severely inadequate. Second, the unfounded conclusions drawn from these efforts to persuade must be successfully disseminated and accepted by a wide audience. E. Temporal changes. Deficit thinking is quite protean in nature, taking different forms to conform to politically acceptable notions at the moment, and while the popularity of different pathologizing perspectives may change, deficit thinking never ceases to influence school policy and practice. Given the shifting, ideological essence of deficit thinking, it makes sense to characterize it as a dynamic and chameleonic concept subject to the vicissitudes of time. Typically, the ideological and research climates of an era shape deficit thinking. For example, the ubiquitous and dominant doctrine of hereditarianism during the 1920s in the United States helped to mold deficit thinking perspectives of the alleged inferior intelligence of low-SES children and youth of color and their curricular interventions (Valencia, 1997b). Another case in point is what transpired in England in the 1980s when the New Labour Party passed an initiative to raise standards and improve academic achievement in select schools mainly attended by low-SES, marginalized immigrant students (e.g., from Somalia; Kurdistan). This new program, designed to improve achievement for these students, led to extreme curricular streaming (tracking) in science where the immigrant students were greatly overrepresented in “slower learner” ability groups (Araújo, 2007; chapter 7, present volume). This is not to say, however, that deficit thinking has kept silent in influencing macrolevel social programs and schooling practices. A case in point was the structuring and implementing of Operation Headstart, a deficit thinking federal War of Poverty program of the mid-1960s built on a “compensatory” approach” to educate preschool children of color, particularly of lowSES background (Pearl, 1991). In addition to the point that the sociopolitical zeitgeist largely influences the form of deficit thinking, a second issue is noteworthy. The fluid nature of deficit thinking does not merely manifest in the basic,

18  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

static characteristics (imputational; binarization; oppressive; pseudoscientific) of the theory. Rather, the perceived transmitter of the alleged deficits metamorphoses. In the genetic pathology variant of deficit thinking, proponents believe that the putatively inferior genes of low-SES people of color lead to poor intellectual performance, hence school failure (Valencia, 1997b, 2010, chapter 2). In the culture of poverty variant of deficit thinking, adherents allege that the purported autonomous, dysfunctional, and self-sustaining cultural systems (ways of life) of the poor pass on the deficits and subsequent problems, such as school failure (Foley, 1997; Valencia, 2010, chapter 3). Finally, in the at-risk variant of deficit thinking, supporters claim that the alleged inferior familial and home environmental contexts and an anti-achievement ideology transmit the pathology and predispose marginalized students for school failure (Padrón, Waxman, & Rivera, 2002; Valencia, 2010, chapter 4). F. Educability. As a psychology major in the late 1960s at the University of California at Santa Barbara, I quickly learned that the social and behavioral sciences have four goals regarding the understanding of human behavior: to (a) describe, (b) explain, (c) predict, and (d) modify behavior. Given that deficit thinking scholars assume that they are guided by the “scientific” process, they also strive to attain these four objectives in their work. To sum, deficit thinking typically offers a description of behavior in pathological or dysfunctional ways—referring to deficits, deficiencies, limitations, or shortcomings in certain individuals, cultures, and families. With respect to an explanation of behavior, deficit thinkers maintain that the etiological bases of the alleged behavioral deficits of an individual student lie in endogenous factors, such as limited intelligence, linguistic deficiencies, or lack of achievement motivation. It follows, then, that deficit thinking would posit a prediction of the maintenance and perpetuation of deficits in the absence of intervention. The fourth part, modification, of the “description-explanationprediction-modification” sequence of the deficit thinking paradigm carries the most danger for marginalized students because it is at this juncture that deficit thinkers express their views about such students’ educability as seen in curricular interventions. Let us probe a historical example of how the above four-part sequence of understanding human behavior can be applied to intelligence and educability. Lewis Terman, hereditarian deficit thinker and the father of the intelligence movement in the 1920s United States, stated in 1916 that “Indians, Mexicans, and Negroes” are intellectually “dull” (description) because of their inherited “family stocks” (explanation). Subsequent research, he maintained, “will [discover] enormously significant racial differences in general intelligence…which

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cannot be wiped out” (prediction). Then, in the quintessential deficit thinking narrative on educability, Terman recommends: “Children of this group should be segregated in special classes and be given instruction which is concrete and practical. They cannot master abstractions, but they can often be made efficient workers, able to look out for themselves” (modification) (1916, pp. 91–92).27 Terman’s (1916) educability views about students of color did not lay still in time. More than a half century later, deficit thinkers Bereiter (1969) and Jensen (1969), for example, echoed Terman’s perspective that low-SES students of color in the United States had intellectual limitations and thus they should be provided a simple curriculum.28 Bereiter, for example, who did extensive curricular interventions with Black children, maintains: “We were not trying to teach academic skills directly in ways that did not demand of the children abilities they demonstrably did not possess” (p. 315). As such, deficit thinkers such as Bereiter and Jensen advocated curricular lessons that were rote in nature, concrete, and practical, much in line with Terman’s educability suggestions. In the present volume, there are a number of instances of references to educability. As an introduction, here are a few examples. In a New Zealand study, Reid (2006) reports that a university Māori student recalled when he was 14 years old that his teacher said Māoris “should be taught in separate classes because we were a bit slower on the uptake” (p. 81)29 (chapter 6). Singh and Kumar (2010) report that the teachers of low-caste primary school students in a remote village in India believed their pupils had “sanskara,” which refers to heredity-based educability, that in turn, causes their school failure. These teachers’ beliefs in sanskara, along with governmental inattention, appeared to lead to indifference, insensitivity, and neglect of the students’ schooling (chapter 9). In a Brazilian study, da Silva (1988) found differential pedagogues across socioeconomically diverse schools. Based on different educability perceptions of teachers, students in a working-class elementary school were frequently provided with solitary seat work (e.g., worksheets) and little teacher feedback to students’ work. By contrast, in the private school attended by economically advantaged students, teachers introduced high-status knowledge, activities involving experimentation, and field trips (chapter 4). G. Heterodoxy. Heterodox perspectives have to do with dissent, unconventional opinions, contestation, dispute, and challenges to orthodoxy—the dominant, prevailing scholarly and ideological climates of the time. In a racially-, class-, and gender-dominated society, the Othered have a great interest in confronting the oppression of those in power (Bourdieu, 1977).30 In the early years of heterodoxy in the United States, for example, there were numerous scholars, both of color

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and White, who challenged deficit thinking during the genetic pathology era (Valencia, 1997b). There were, for instance, the likes of White progressive scholars such as William C. Bagley, Franz Boas and Otto Klineberg. There was also a small cadre of Black scholars, for example, Horace Mann Bond, Howard H. Long, Martha McLear, and Charles H. Thompson.31 As well, George I. Sanchez, a Mexican American, made his mark as a heterodox scholar. As we shall see in this volume, the Anti-deficit thinking literature teems with orthodoxy. This corpus of scholarly work covers all three variants of the deficit thinking theory (genetic pathology; culture of poverty; at-risk). These publications include quantitative, qualitative, and mixed-design methodologies. Many researchers not only offer critiques of deficit thinking, but they also present a number of proactive, anti-deficit thinking reform suggestions (e.g., in the fields of gender equality; teacher education; higher education; educational leadership; language; parental involvement). A final point: anti-deficit thinkers have not confined their heterodox work to scientific investigations. For instance, parents and students, via empowerment and voice, have fought against deficit thinking (Valencia, 2015, chapters 8 and 9). Furthermore, oppressed groups of color have sometimes resorted to protracted legal action in their struggle against deficit thinking and for educational equality (e.g., Valencia, 2008). With this dissection of the deficit thinking now complete, we move to an analysis of the international presence of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Notes 1 For a discussion of the notion of school failure, see Valencia (2011, pp. 4–6). Parts of this chapter build on, with revisions, Valencia (1997a, pp. 3, 6, 8), Valencia (2010, pp. 12, 17, 47, 68), and Valencia (2015, pp. 44, 55–56, 59–62). 2 For responses to his critics, see Ogbu’s chapters in Ogbu (2008b). For a condensation of Ogbu’s replies, see Valencia (2015, pp. 52–53). 3 These are, however, a handful of studies that support the oppositional culture notion of the CEM (e.g., Farkas, Lleras, & Maczuga, 2002; Irving & Hudley, 2008; Matute-Bianchi, 1986; Taylor, 2008). 4 For a contemporary discussion of what scholars refer to as “linguistic deficit theory,” see MacSwan and Rolstad (2006). 5 The assertion of the alleged language deficiency of low-SES children is part of the larger camp of the 1960s deficit thinking paradigm in which it was claimed that these children suffered not only from linguistic deprivation but also from limitations such as inadequate familial socialization (e.g., Marans & Lourie, 1967) and accumulated environmental deficits (e.g., Deutsch & Brown, 1964, particularly cognitive shortcomings; see Pearl, 1997, for a comprehensive discussion and critique). 6 For a critique of Hart and Risley (1995) see Valencia (2015, pp. 17–19). As well, see Dudley-Marling and Lucas (2009). 7 See: Au and Mason (1981); Erickson and Mohatt (1982); Heath (1983); Michaels and Collins (1984).

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8 For an example of a SIM, see Valencia’s (2015, chapter 2) “Three-M Systemic Model.” 9 In Valencia (2015, chapter 7), I explore how the “official” or “explicit” curriculum contributes to the reproductive nature of schooling inequalities. 10 For a short discussion of hegemony in capitalism in several countries, see Greenberg (1980, pp. 398–405). 11 For a discussion of several theoretical perspectives on student agency and empowerment, see Valencia (2015, chapter 9). 12 Polygenism was still espoused by some scholars up to the 1960s (see, e.g., Coon, 1962). For an example of a more contemporary polygenist, see Rushton (1995). 13 See Gould (1978) for a piercing methodological critique of Morton’s cranial volume research. 14 For extended discussions, see Valencia (1997a, 2010). For a concise discussion of the three variants, see Valencia (2012). 15 For related works in which the economically advantaged claim that the poor have moral flaws and other shortcomings see, for example, Gans (1995); Katz (1989, 1995);Tropman (1998). 16 For critiques of Payne, see Valencia (2009, 2010, chapter 3). 17 Although worldwide poverty rates are declining, it was estimated that in 2011 there were 1 billion people living in poverty. See: World Bank Groups (2015). Global monitoring report, 2014/2015: Ending poverty and sharing prosperity. Washington, DC: World Bank. Retrieved August 17, 2015 from http://www.worldbank.org/content/dam/ Worldbank/gmr/gmr2014_2014_Full_Report.pdf. 18 Some scholars consistently place the term “at risk” in quotation marks, indicating they question the validity of the construct (e.g., Fine, 1995; Lubeck, 1995). I also raise serious concerns about the soundness of the at-risk notion, but to avoid repetitiveness I do not place the term in quotation marks. 19 For an overview and critique of the cultural deprivation era of deficit thinking, see Pearl (1997). 20 For an overview and critique of Auletta (1982), Banfield (1970), and Moynihan (1965), see Valencia (2010, chapter 3). 21 Ryan (1971) did not use the term “deficit thinking” in his book. He did, however, refer to “defect” situated “within the victim” (p. 7). In any event, it is quite clear that the theory he was critiquing was the deficit thinking model. 22 Borowski (2012) notes that the principle of Ockham’s (also spelled Occam) razor is, for the most part, attributed to William of Ockham, English logician, theologian, and Franciscan friar. The metaphor of the razor refers to “shaving away” needless assumptions when differentiating between two theories in the quest to identify the simplest hypothesis. Source: The origin and popular use of Occam’s razor. American Association for the Advancement of Science. Retrieved February 1, 2019 from https://www.aaas.org/ origin-and-popular-use-occams-razor. 23 Malle (2011) notes that the term “attribution” has two central meanings: The first refers to explanations of behavior (i.e., answers to why questions); the second refers to inferences or ascriptions (e.g., inferring traits from behavior, ascribing blame to a person). What the two meanings have in common is a process of assigning: In attribution as explanation, a behavior is assigned to its cause; in attribution as inference, a quality or attribute is assigned to the agent on the basis of an observed behavior (p. 72). 24 For a sociopsychological perspective on the formation of in-groups and the rejection of out-groups, see the classic text by Allport (1954). 25 For an insightful example of Othering, see Todorov’s (1999) comprehensive discussion of the Spanish conquistadores’ Othering of the Indigenous people of America. Also, see Said’s (1978) overview of the West’s Othering of the East (e.g., Turks; Moroccans; Japanese). Another account is Danaher and Henderson’s (2011) discussion of the Othering of Australian show people and seasonal workers.

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26 In contemporary times, school segregation of students in the United States is widespread (Valencia, 2015, chapter 4), but it is no longer enforced by de jure, or legal, means. Current segregation is referred to as de facto, or resultant of residential patterns. One can argue, however, that contemporary school segregation can be explained as having deep historical roots. That is, segregated schools (both predominantly students of color and predominantly White) are typically located in segregated neighborhoods that have been shaped, historically, by racially restrictive housing covenants, steerage in the real estate industry, urban planning, low-income government housing projects, and mortgage loan practices (Valencia, 2015, chapters 3 and 4). In short, contemporary school segregation has been historically tainted by the minds and hands of powerful men and women. 27 For a discussion of Terman’s (1916) quote in the context of the full “descriptionexplanation-prediction-modification” sequence, see Valencia (2010, pp. 14–16). 28 For a critique of Jensen (1969), see Valencia (2010, pp. 42–47). Regards to a critique of Bereiter (1969), see Nyberg (1976). 29 Thesaurus.com notes that some example synonyms for “slow on uptake” are: “dense,” “dumb,” and “unintelligent.” Source: Slow uptake synonyms, slow uptake antonyms– Thesaurus.com. Retrieved February 2, 2019 from https://www.thesaurus.com/browse/ slow%20uptake. 30 See Bourdieu (1977) for further discussion of the concepts of doxa, orthodox, and heterodoxy. 31 For an extended coverage of these Black scholars’ work, see Thomas (1982).

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Marx, S. (2006). Revealing the invisible: Confronting passive racism in education. New York, NY: Routledge. Matute-Bianchi, M. E. (1986). Ethnic identities and patterns of school success and failure among Mexican-descent and Japanese-American students in a California high school. American Journal of Education, 95, 233–255. McKenzie, K. B., & Scheurich, J. J. (2004). Equity traps: A useful construct for preparing principals to lead schools that are successful with racially diverse students. Educational Administration Quarterly, 40, 601–632. McLaren, P. (1995). Critical pedagogy and predatory culture: Oppositional politics in a postmodern age. New York, NY: Routledge. McLaren, P. (1998). Life in schools: An introduction to critical pedagogy in the foundations of education. White Plains, NY: Longman. Menchaca, M. (1997). Early racist discourses: The roots of deficit thinking. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 13–40). London, England: Falmer Press. Michaels, S., & Collins, J. (1984). Oral discourse styles: Classroom interaction and the acquisition of literacy. In D.Tannen (Ed.), Coherence in spoken and written discourse (pp. 219–244). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Moreno, R.P., & Valencia, R.R. (2011). Chicano families and schools: Challenges for strengthening family-school relationships. In R.R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 197–210). New York, NY: Routledge. Morrow, R. A., & Torres, C. A. (1995). Social theory and education: A critique of theories of social and cultural reproduction. Albany, New York: State University of New York Press. Moynihan, D. P. (1965). The Negro family: A case for national action. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Labor. Nagge, J. W. (1932). Regarding the law of parsimony. Journal of Genetic Psychology, 41, 492–494. Nakhid, C. (2003). “Intercultural” perceptions, academic achievement and the identifying process of Pacific Island students in New Zealand schools. Journal of Negro Education, 72, 297–317. National Commission on Excellence in Education. (1983). A nation at risk:The imperative for educational reform. Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office. Noguera, P. A. (2009). The achievement gap: Public crisis in education. New Labor Forum, 18, 61–69. Nyberg, D. (1976). Skill school v. education school: An essay on Carl Bereiter’s pedagogies. Educational Theory, 26, 214–222. Oakes, J. (2005). Keeping track: How schools structure inequality (2nd ed.). New Haven, CT:Yale University Press. Ogbu, J. U. (1978). Minority education and caste: The American system in cross-cultural perspective. New York, NY: Academic Press. Ogbu, J. U. (1990). Minority education in comparative perspective. The Journal of Negro Education, 59, 45–57. Ogbu, J. U. (1991). Immigrant and involuntary minorities in comparative perspective. In M. A. Gibson & J. U. Ogbu (Eds.), Minority status and schooling: A comparative study of immigrant and involuntary minorities (pp. 3–33). New York, NY: Garland Publishing. Ogbu, J.U. (2003). Black students in an affluent suburb: A study of academic disengagement. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

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Ogbu, J. U. (2008a). Collective identity and the burden of “acting White” in Black history, community, and education. In J. U. Ogbu (Ed.), Minority status, oppositional culture, and schooling (pp. 29–63). New York, NY: Routledge. Ogbu, J. U. (Ed.). (2008b). Minority status, oppositional culture, and schooling. New York, NY: Routledge. Ogbu, J. U., & Simons, H. D. (1998). Voluntary and involuntary minorities: A culturalecological theory of school performance with some implications for education. Anthropology and Education Quarterly, 29, 155–188. Ornstein, A. (2007). Class counts: Education, inequality, and the shrinking middle class. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Padrón,Y. N., Waxman, H. C., & Rivera, H. H. (2002). Issues in educating Hispanic students. In S. Stringfield & D. Land (Eds.), Educating at-risk students: One hundred-first yearbook of the national society for the study of education, Part II (pp. 66–88). Chicago, IL: National Society for the Study of Education. Payne, R. K. (2005). A framework for understanding poverty (4th ed.). Highlands, TX: Aha! Process, Inc. Pearl, A. (1991). Systemic and institutional factors in Chicano school failure. In R.R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Research and policy agendas for the 1990s (pp. 273–320). London, England: Falmer Press. Pearl, A. (1997). Cultural and accumulated environmental deficit models. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 132–159). London, England: Falmer Press. Pearl, A. (2002). The big picture: Systemic and institutional factors in Chicano school failure and success. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (2nd ed., pp. 335–364). London, England: RoutledgeFalmer. Philips, S. U. (1983). The invisible culture: Communication in classroom and community on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. New York, NY: Longman. Reid, J. (2006). Barriers to Māori student success at the University of Canterbury. Unpublished master’s thesis, Christchurch, New Zealand: University at Canterbury. Richwine, J. (2009). IQ and immigration policy. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, Retrieved May 8, 2013 from http://www.dailymail.co.uk/ news/article-2323057/Conservative-wonk-wrote-Harvard-dissertation-claimingHispanics-low-IQ-forced-resign.html. Ross, L., & Nisbett, R. E. (1991). The person and the situation: Perspectives of social psychology. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Rothstein, R. (2004). Class and schools: Using social, economic, and educational reform to close the black-white achievement gap. Washington, DC: Economic Policy Institute. Rozycki, E. G. (1999).What is a system? A “top-down” explanation following von Bertalanffy. Retrieved June 22, 2012 from https://www.newfoundations.com/EGR/system.html. Rushton, J. P. (1995). Race, evolution, and behavior: A life history perspective (2nd ed.). New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers. Ryan, W. (1971). Blaming the victim. New York, NY: Random House. Said, E. (1978). Orientalism. London, England: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Scott, I.,Yeld, N., & Hendry, J. (2007). A case for improving teaching and learning in South African higher education. Higher Education Monitor No. 6. Pretoria, South Africa: Council on Higher Education. Retrieved July 14, 2015 from https://www.che.ac.za/sites/default/ files/publications/HE_Monitor_6_ITLS_Oct2007_0.pdf

28  The Construct of Deficit Thinking

Shabanirad, E., & Marandi, S. M. (2015). Edward Said’s Orientalism and the representation of oriental women in George Orwell’s Burmese Days. International Letters of Social and Humanistic Sciences, 60, 22–23. DOI 10.185052/www.scipress.com/ILSHS.60.22. Simonton, D. K. (1995). Behavioral laws in histories of psychology: Psychological science, meta-science, and the psychology of science. Psychological Inquiry, 6, 89–114. Singh, M. (2011). Renewing the critical function of education research. In W. Midgley, M. A. Tyler, P. A. Dahaher, & A. Mander (Eds.), Beyond binaries in education research (pp. xvii–xix) [Foreword]. New York, NY: Routledge. Singh, P. (2010). Speaking about cultural difference and school disadvantage. An interview study of “Samoan” para-professionals in designated secondary schools in Australia. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 22, 317–337. Singh, P. D., & Kumar, S. (2010). Social hierarchy and notion of educability: Experiences of teachers and children from marginalized and non-marginalized communities in Gaya, Bihar, India. Mukherjee, Nagar, New Delhi, India: Deshkal Publications. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from http://www.deshkalindia.com/img/reports/4.%20Report%20on%20 Social%20heirarchy%20and%20notion%20of%20educability.pdf. Slavin, R. E. (1989). Students at risk of school failure: The problem and its dimensions. In R. E. Slavin, N. L. Karweit, & N. A. Madden (Eds.), Effective programs for students at risk (pp. 3–19). Boston, MA: Allyn and Bacon. Solórzano, D. G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context. Urban Education, 36, 308–342. Solórzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. (2000). Toward a critical race theory of Chicana and Chicano education. In C. Tejada, C. Martínez, Z. Leonardo, & P. McLaren (Eds.), Charting new terrains of Chicana(o)/Latina(o) education (pp. 35–65). Cresskill, NJ: Hampton. Stannard, D. E. (1992). American holocaust:The conquest of the new world. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Staszak, J.-F. (2009). Other/otherness. In R. Kitchin & N.Thrift (Eds.), International encyclopedia of human geography (Vol. 8, pp. 43–47). Amsterdam, The Netherlands: Elsevier Oxford. Stocking, G. W., Jr. (1968). Race, culture and evolution. New York, NY: The Free Press. Swadener, B. B., & Lubeck, S. (Eds.). (1995). Children and families “at promise”: Deconstructing the discourse of risk. Albany, New York: State University of New York Press. Taylor, A. (2008). A quantitative examination of oppositional identity among African American and Latino middle-school students. In J. U. Ogbu (Ed.), Minority status, oppositional culture, and schooling (pp. 481–495). New York, NY: Routledge. Terman, L. M. (1916). The measurement of intelligence. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Thomas,W.B. (1982). Black intellectuals’ critiques of early mental testing: A little known saga of the 1920s. American Journal of Education, 90, 258–292. Todorov, T. (1999). The conquest of America: The question of the other. Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press. Tropman, J. E. (1998). Does America hate the poor?: The other American dilemma: Lessons for the 21st century from the 1960s and 1970s. Westport, CT: Praeger. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997a). The evolution of deficit thinking; Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (1997b). Genetic pathology model of deficit thinking. In R.R. Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy (pp. 41–112). London, England: Falmer Press.

The Construct of Deficit Thinking 29

Valencia, R. R. (2005). The Mexican American struggle for equal educational opportunity in Mendez v.Westminister: Helping to pave the way for Brown v. Board of Education. Teachers College Record, 107, 389–423. Valencia, R. R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York, NY: New York University Press. Valencia, R. R. (2009, June 25). A response to Ruby Payne’s claim that the deficit thinking model has no scholarly utility. Teachers College Record. Retrieved June 29, 2009, from http://www.tcrecord.org/Content.asp?ContentId=15691. Valencia, R. R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2011).The plight of Chicano students: An overview of schooling conditions and outcomes. In R.R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 3–41). New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2012). Deficit thinking paradigm. In J. A. Banks (Ed.), Encyclopedia of educational diversity (Vol. 2, pp. 611–613). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Valencia, R.R. (2013). Jason Richwine’s dissertation, IQ and Immigration Policy: Neohereditarianism, pseudoscience, and deficit thinking. Teachers College Record. http:// tcrecord.org ID Number: 17134. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Black, M. S. (2002). “Mexican Americans don’t value education!”: On the basis of the myth, mythmaking, and debunking. Journal of Latinos and Education, 2, 81–103. Valencia, R. R., & Solórzano, D. G. (1997). Contemporary deficit thinking. In R.R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 160–210). London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Valentine, C. A. (1968). Culture and poverty: Critique and counter-proposals. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Weis, L. (1990). Working class without work: High school students in a de-industrialized economy. New York, NY: Routledge. Weis, L. (2004). Class reunion:The remaking of the American white working class. New York, NY: Routledge. Williams, F. (1970). Some preliminaries and prospects. In F. Williams (Ed.), Language and poverty: Perspectives on a theme (pp. 1–10). Chicago, IL: Markham Publishing Co. Williams, J. K. (2008). Unspoken realities: White, female teachers discuss race, students, and achievement in the context of teaching in a majority Black elementary school. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Corvallis, Oregon: Oregon State University. World Bank Groups. (2015). Global monitoring report, 2014/2015: Ending poverty and sharing prosperity. Washington, DC: World Bank. Retrieved August 17, 2015 from http:// pubdocs.worldbank.org/en/637391444058280425/GMR-2014-Full-Report.pdf. Yosso, T. (2006). Critical race counterstories along the Chicana/Chicano educational pipeline. New York, NY: Routledge.

PART I

The Americas

2 THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

This chapter begins the international review of scholarly literature on deficit thinking in educational thought and practice. Before doing so, however, I discuss how I went about synthesizing this corpus of studies. The core of each chapter from 2 to 10 is a review of germane literature on deficit thinking apropos to the 16 countries I have studied. For each country, the respective syntheses are located in a section titled, “Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice.” In each of these sections, I discuss the available literature in the context of what I call “Deficit Thinking Themes.” Table 2.1 shows 49 themes I have identified, on a country-by-country basis. Some of the themes are repeats (e.g., “Teachers”). The number of deficit thinking themes range from 1 to 5, with a mean of about 3 for the 16 countries, and a mode of 5 (U.S.; Canada; New Zealand; England). In Table 2.2, I have collapsed the 49 deficit thinking themes into 21 themes. Table 2.2 presents the frequencies of the number of instances the 49 themes appear, by rubric. As noted, the theme of “teachers” is the most frequent (n = 12), a plurality at 24.5%. Rounding out the reminder of the top five frequencies are “parents” (14.3%), “language” (10.2%), “higher education” (8.2%), and “gender inequality” (6.1%). Next, we begin the international review of literature. I offer the United States as Exhibit A for the study of deficit thinking because it is the primary location of the origin and subsequent expressions of the three variants of the deficit thinking theory. The genetic pathology model can certainly be stamped “made in the U.S.”—having its roots in the heyday of the intelligence testing and eugenics movements of the 1920s and consequently affecting low-SES children, youth, and adults of color (Valencia, 1997a, 2010, chapter 2).1

34  The Americas TABLE 2.1  Deficit Thinking Themes Identified in International Deficit Thinking

Chapter and Country

Deficit Thinking Theme

2, U.S.A

(a) neohereditarianism; (b) teacher education; (c) teachers; (d) administrators; (e) parents (a) students deemed at-risk; (b) teacher candidates and teachers; (c) administrators; (d) parents; (e) higher education

3, Canada 4, Latin America • Brazil • Costa Rica • Mexico • Peru 5, Australia 6, New Zealand • Fiji 7, England 8, Other European Countries • Ireland • Belgium 9, Asia • India • China 10, Africa • South Africa • Nigeria

(a) differential pedagogies; (b) teachers; (c) street mathematics (a) teachers; (b) marginalization and academic achievement (a) funds of knowledge as counternarratives to deficit thinking; (b) gender inequality (a) parents; (b) issues facing Quechua speakers (a) teachers; (b) teacher education; (c) language; (d) developmental assessment (language and intelligence) (a) teachers; (b) curriculum differentiation; (c) language; (d) parents; (e) higher education (a) teachers (a) teachers; (b) curriculum differentiation; (c) standards-based school reform movement; (d) special education; (e) parents (a) perceptions of Irish traveller culture and students; (b) teachers; (c) parents (a) students’ perceptions of school failure and success and teacher racism; (b) role of flemish staff members in perpetuating monocultural school practices; (c) language (a) hereditarianism; (b) gender inequality; (c) teacher education (a) higher education (a) school choice; (b) language; (c) higher education; (d) parents (a) gender inequality

The emergence of the culture of poverty model, another key variant of the deficit thinking paradigm, is also inextricably tied to U.S. scholarship, as evidenced by the ethnographic work of U.S.-born Oscar Lewis, cultural anthropologist, whose conclusions of the lifestyles of the poor led to them being described in pathological ways (e.g., having self-imposed, perverse, and intergenerational problems; Valencia, 2010, chapter 3). The at-risk model, a later expression, is clearly a U.S. construction. This form of deficit thinking has its origin in the 1960s when U.S. psychologists and other scholars invented the “culturally deprived” child, who allegedly had dysfunctional parents and an inadequate home environment (Pearl, 1997; Valencia, 2010, chapter 3). Later, the at-risk student became further operationalized in the early to mid-1980s, a time when U.S. scholars and policymakers strove to improve a mediocre educational system via the development of

The United States of America 35 TABLE 2.2  Frequency of Deficit Thinking Themes

Deficit thinking theme Teachersa Parents Languageb Higher education Gender inequality Administrators Curriculum differentiation Neohereditarianism Students deemed at-risk Differential pedagogies Street mathematics Marginalization and academic achievement Funds of knowledge as counternarratives to deficit thinking Developmental assessment (language and intelligence) Standard-based school reform movement Special education Perceptions of Irish Traveller culture and students Students’ perceptions of school failure and success and teacher racism Role of Flemish staff members in perpetuating monocultural school Practices Hereditarianism School choice Total

f

%

12 7 5 4 3 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

24.5 14.3 10.2 8.2 6.1 4.1 4.1 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0 2.0

1 1

2.0 2.0

49

99.5%c

a

Includes teacher education, teacher candidates, and teachers; Includes issues facing Quechua Speakers; c Total does not equal 100% because of rounding. b

at-risk student indicators that were predictive of school failure (Valencia, 2010, chapter 4). To sum, given the longstanding and close identification of deficit thinking with the United States, and its profound influence on educability perceptions of low-SES students of color and their curriculum, it is not surprising that based on the corpus of literature on deficit thinking in education, the United States leads the world in the number of publications. The remainder of this chapter is organized around the following: (a) conquest and colonization of the U.S.; (b) ethnic demographic profile; (c) TAG; (d) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization of the United States Prior to Christopher Columbus’ departure to the New World in 1492, Europe was routinely ravished by deadly diseases such as diphtheria, typhoid fever, smallpox, and influenza (Stannard, 1992). In 1493, when Columbus, Spanish

36  The Americas

explorer, landed on the island of present day Cuba, he believed that he and his crew had arrived on a part of the Asian continent. Contrary to information, Columbus stubbornly clung to his conviction he had landed in Asia (Todorov, 1999). Merely 21 years after the first landing of Columbus in the Caribbean, which he named Hispaniola, the Indigenous population had plunged by 8 million people—brought about by disease, violence, and despair (Stannard). According to David Stannard, author of American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World, within generations the overall decline of the Indigenous people in the United States and the Western Hemisphere was 95%, a working rule of thumb, which served as a gauge of the degree of genocide. A case in point: In 1520, the Timucan people, who resided in present day Floria and southern Georgia, numbered 720,000. After a century, however, of European contact, the Timucan society plummeted via “sword and plague” to a minuscule 36,000 people—a post-Columbus reduction of 95%. In sum, via “microbial pestilence and purposeful genocide” the Indigenous people of the Americas suffered “the most massive act of genocide in the history of the world” (Stannard, pp. x, xii). Tzvetan Todorov, author of The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other, concurs: “[In the Americas] the sixteenth century perpetrated the greatest genocide in human history” (p. 5). The colonization of the United States began in Jamestown (present day Virginia) in 1607 with the arrival of 104 English settlers (Stannard, 1992). Subsequently, a small group of English Pilgrims, in search of religious freedom, arrived in Plymouth (present day Massachusetts) in 1620. Unwittingly, these newcomers, beholden to their monetary backers in England who paid for their voyage to the New World, became the channel for mercantile capitalism and British financial interests (Rose, 1989; cited in Menchaca, 1997). As such, the Pilgrims and succeeding English settlers took on with earnest their role as colonizers. This involved the usurping of Indian lands and people, the British enslavement and exportation of Africans to the U.S. colonies, and the bellicose Western expansion that was driven by the religious principle that the colonizers were “God’s chosen people.” This belief in Manifest Destiny, the depraved conviction that it was God’s will for the colonizers to destruct Native people and appropriate their land and natural resources at any means necessary, was based on deficit thinking and the demonization of the “Other,” which provided the justification of colonization (Menchaca). Other major oppressive events inflicted by Whites included, for example, the imperialistic U.S. invasion and war with Mexico from 1846 to 1848 (Greenberg, 2012), the Indigenous genocide in the U.S. Southwest, including the Native genocide in California, where the Indian population tumbled from 150,000 to 30,000 from 1846 to 1873 (Madley, 2017; also, see Stannard). In regard to the education of students of color during the historical ascendancy of White control in U.S. society, matters did not bode well for these marginalized students. There was the genocidal impact of American Indian and Canadian

The United States of America 37

Indian youngsters in residential schools (Churchill, 2004), the forced public school segregation of Black students (Klarman, 2004; Kluger, 2004) and Mexican American pupils (Valencia, 2005; Valencia, 2008, chapter 1), and the stratification of school curriculum based on the widespread administration, and reification, of intelligence and achievement tests used as gatekeepers of access for students of color to high-status and low-status knowledge in public schools (Valencia, 1997a). In sum, history informs us that the United States has always been an “empirestate…a racial state, a state of white supremacy” ( Jung, 2011, p.1).

Ethnic Demographic Profile As of the last U.S. census in 2010, the population of the U.S. states was 308,745,538 (Humes, Jones, & Ramírez, 2011). Equivalent to 4.3% of the total world population, the United States ranks number 3 in world populace (China and India are number 1 and 2, respectively).2 The United States is one of the most ethnically diverse nations in the world. White ethnics, who comprise the majority group at 63.7%, originally hail from many countries (in descending order the top 10 are Germany, Ireland, England, Italy, Poland, France, Scotland, Norway, the Netherlands, and Sweden).3 Other ethnic groups are Latino/Latina (16.3%);4 Black (12.6%); Asian (4.8%); Amerindian and Alaska native (0.9%); native Hawaiian and other Pacific Islanders (0.2%); two or more ethnic groups (2.9%) (Valencia, 2015, p. 23, Table 1.11). The ethnic group growth patterns in the United States are quite telling. Based on the 2010 U.S. census (the most accurate data I have at the time of this writing), the White population is shrinking in proportion while all groups of color are expanding. From 2000 to 2010, the White population grew by only 1.2%. By sharp contrast, the Asian population—a heterogeneous ethnicity—increased the most (43.3%), and the Latino/Latina population, also quite diverse in subgroups, rose by a close second at 43.0%. Third, fourth, and fifth place in growth rates were, respectively, native Hawaiian/ other Pacific Islanders (35.4%), American Indian/Alaska Native (18.4%), and African American (12.3%). In sum, from 2000 to 2010, the White population grew by a minuscule percentage, while every group of color outstripped the White increase (Valencia, 2015, p. 23, Table 1.11). Demographers project that these ethnic differences in growth patterns will continue into the future. By the year 2045—a mere 25 years from now—the White population, having continued its percentage decline, is projected to constitute 49.5% of the total population (Frey, 2018).5 By contrast, Latinos/Latinas are projected by 2045 to comprise 24.6% of the total U.S. population, and the other projections are: Blacks (13.1%), Asians (7.9%), multiracial (3.8%), and others (0.9%). Thus, by around the mid-century—if these projections ring true—a landmark demographic event in history will occur. No single ethnic group will comprise a majority

38  The Americas

of the total population of the United States. Closely related to ethnic variations in the total U.S. population are the appreciable shifts in the national K-12 public school enrollment. In 2014, a milestone occurred when the White national enrollment dipped under 50% to 49.7%, and the students of color enrollment became the majority at 50.3% (Valencia, 2015, p. 25, Table 1.12).6 In light of these dramatic transformations of the ethnic enrollment in the United States, the key question before the nation is: Will workable, comprehensive, and democratic school reform commensurately increase?7

TAG Valencia (2015, chapter 1) provides a comprehensive coverage of TAG in the United States.8 His focus is on comparing achievement chasms between low-SES Mexican American/Latino and Latina public school students and their economically advantaged White counterparts. He also discusses TAG between low-SES Black students and economically better off White pupils. Concentrating on lowSES Latino/Latina and Black students is important because of the ubiquitous Race × Class interaction. For example, they are disproportionately represented in low-SES schools. Based on academic year (AY) 2015–2016 national data for high school enrollment, 52% of Latino/Latina students and 29% of Black students attended high-poverty schools, while only 13% of White students were enrolled in such schools (U.S. Government Accounting Office, 2018, p. 13, Figure 3).9 This is a reflection of the larger U.S. societal reality: Latino/Latina and Black families—in comparison to White families—are considerably financially disadvantaged on several measures (e.g., median income; see Valencia, 2015, pp. 83–85, Table 3.1–3.4). Another significant reason for centering on the variable of SES is that a voluminous corpus of literature finds a positive association between children’s SES of origin and their performance on measures of academic achievement, as well as intelligence (e.g., Sirin, 2005; Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, chapter 3; White, 1982). Furthermore, parental income and spending on children’s educational enrichment (e.g., for books; foreign language instruction; tutors; computers) have been found to be linked with the offsprings’ improved academic achievement (Kausal, Magnuson, & Waldfogel, 2011; see Valencia, 2015, pp. 87–89 for a discussion). In his discussion of TAG in the United States, Valencia (2015, chapter 1) provides data on eight indicators of achievement: (a) achievement test performance; (b) grade retention; (c) school holding power (dropouts); (d) Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) performance; (e) matriculation to college; (f ) college graduation (baccalaureate and post-baccalaureate); (g) Graduate Record Examination (GRE) scores; (h) gifted and talented placement. For each of the eight TAG measures, Mexican American/Latino and Latina and Black students perform less favorably than their White peers. As a case in point, let us examine, by

The United States of America 39

ethnicity, matriculation rates to college and degrees awards. Being admitted to college is a milestone in the academic career of high school students. This continuation in the educational pipeline can eventually lead to a portal to the credential society and economic success. On the average, an adult in the United States, over his or her life can expect to earn $1.3 million (high school graduate); $2.3 million (B.A. degree); $2.7 million (M.A. degree); $3.3 million (Ph.D.) (Carnevale, Rose, & Cheah, 2013, p. 3, Figure 3). Regarding matriculation rates to college, 2010 national data exist for percentages by ethnicity for high school graduates enrolled in 2- to 4-year colleges. For Mexican American and Latino/Latina and Black students the enrollment percentages were 59.7% and 62.0%, respectively, while Whites had a percentage of 70.5% (Aud et al., 2012). A contributing factor for the lower college matriculation rates of high school students of color is that high schools with intense poverty, hence concentrations of Latino/Latina and Black students, are less likely to offer courses students need to matriculate and succeed in 4-year colleges. For example, 85% of low-poverty schools offer calculus, while about 50% of high-poverty schools do so—a significant gap. Another case in point: 90% of low-poverty schools offer physics, compared to 62% of highpoverty schools (U.S. Government Accounting Office, 2018, p. 15, Figure 4). With respect to degrees awarded by ethnicity, based on 2009–2010 AY data, Mexican American and Latino/Latina and Black students, compared to Whites, are less likely to earn bachelors, masters, and doctoral degrees (see Valencia, 2015, p. 13, Table 1.8). To sum, TAG is an incontestable verity in the United States. As we proceed in this volume, it will be quite apparent that TAG is an international reality in the case of countries that have been conquered and colonized (e.g., Australia; New Zealand; South Africa) and in nations that have demonized immigrant populations (e.g., Belgium; England). With a close eye, we will explore how deficit thinking has been proffered by key people (e.g., teachers; administrators; scholars) to explain the lower academic performance, hence TAG, of marginalized students.

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice The extant literature on deficit thinking in the United States (and elsewhere, e.g., Australia, Belgium) is quite large. Thus, it is prohibitive to undertake a comprehensive discussion. The publications I review here for the United States and some other countries should be considered representative of their respective corpora of germane literature. The following covers these U.S. deficit thinking themes: (a) neohereditarianism; (b) teacher education; (c) teachers; (d) administrators; (e) parents.

40  The Americas

Neohereditarianism A recent U.S. neohereditarian scholar to appear on the scene is Jason Richwine, who earned his doctoral dissertation in public policy in 2009 from Harvard University. The primary targets of his dissertation, IQ and Immigration Policy (Richwine, 2009), are Mexican-origin immigrants in the United States. In brief, Richwine maintains, in a fairly linear fashion, the following. First, he claims that these immigrants have a mean IQ of 88, which is about four-fifths of a standard deviation below the mean (100) of the U.S. White population.10 Second, as an explanation for this difference in mean IQ between “Hispanic” (his term) immigrants11 and U.S. Whites, Richwine maintains: “The totality of the evidence suggests a genetic component to [these] group differences in IQ” [italics (added) p. 75]. Third, he notes that it is unknown whether these immigrants will ever attain IQ equivalence with Whites, “but the prediction that new Hispanic immigrants will have low-IQ children and grandchildren is difficult to argue against… the low average IQ of Hispanics is effectively permanent” [italics added] (p. 66). Fourth, similar to neohereditarian scholars Herrstein and Murray (1994), Richwine argues that low-IQ is associated with negative outcomes and behavior (e.g., “alcoholism,” “crime,” and “lying”). He continues: “This means that bringing in a large number of immigrants who have lower intelligence levels, will quite simply, result in more of the bad outcomes in American society and few of the good” (p. 80). Fifth, Richwine believes that a compelling case can be made to use a selection model for immigration where IQ plays a significant role. He suggests that intelligence tests can be administered at consulates or embassies, and perhaps over the internet. In sum, high-IQ immigrants, in comparison to low-IQ immigrants, should be given priority for U.S. residency.12 In Valencia (2013), I provide a debunking of Richwine’s (2009) neohereditarian, pseudoscientific, deficit thinking treatise. In doing so, I primarily identify and critique a number of shortcomings similar to those I raise about the writing of other neohereditarian scholars in Valencia (2010, chapter 2). That is: (a) incorrectly stating that race is a biological concept; (b) misinterpreting correlation; (c) having questionable assumptions about IQ tests and scores; (d) misconceiving what the heritability index is; (e) failing to consider competing hypotheses about racial differences in measured intelligence. In the final analysis, Richwine’s dissertation offers nothing new to our knowledge base with respect to the study of racial/ ethnic mean differences in measured intelligence, nor to immigration policy. What is new, however, is that IQ and Immigration Policy has the dubious distinction of being the most vicious and sustained pseudoscientific attack to date on Mexicanorigin people in the United States. In regard to Richwine’s genetic pathology interpretation of mean IQ differences between Mexican immigrants and United States Whites, it is a garden-variety treatise in which he draws heavily from other, now debunked, neohereditarian scholars (see Valencia, 2010, chapter 2).

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The genetic pathology variant of deficit thinking can also be seen, albeit infrequently, in teachers’ beliefs of the educability of students of color. A case in point is what Williams (2008) found in her doctoral dissertation work, which I introduced in chapter 1 (present volume) in the discussion of fundamental attribution error. Williams conducted her investigation in the Northeast sector of the United States in an elementary school that enrolled 68% Black students (92% students of color; 100% Title 1 students). She employed a focus group method in which 12 White, female teachers discussed their perceptions of race and student achievement. On educability perceptions, one participant commented: Intellectual ability; there’s some biological stuff there and if there’s not much to work with. If you have someone with a below average IQ, you’re going to have a problem with the child learning. There’s just not a lot of IQ to work with and you get two sub IQs having a baby and that baby is going to have a hard time. (p. 109) Two points are noteworthy regarding this egregious comment. First, the teacher is profoundly ignorant about what intelligence is and how it develops. A child’s observed intelligence does not arise from a simple addition and inferred average of the measured intelligence levels of the mother and father. In the field of human behavioral genetics, genetic does not imply fixed. Rather, intelligence (a phenotype) develops by means of one’s genotype interacting with the environment in complex, myriad ways (see Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, chapter 6). The teacher who voiced the above comment could have benefitted during her teacher training from a course or module on the conceptions of intelligence and its measurement. Second, by holding such a deficit thinking perception of a child’s alleged educability, it would not be surprising that this teacher routinely provided non-academically challenging and minimally engaging instruction for her students (e.g., see Halvorsen, Lee, & Andrade, 2009).

Teacher Education A major reality of contemporary teacher training programs in U.S. universities and colleges is the racialization of the students in preservice teacher education tracks. Overwhelmingly, the vast majority of these students are White. Although it is difficult to obtain data on racial/ethnic background for students in teacher education programs, one can extrapolate such proportions by examining the racial/ethnic composition of the K-12 public school teaching force. Drawing from national data, Ingersoll and May (2011) report that in AY 2008–2009, combined students of color made up 41% of the total elementary and secondary public school enrollment and combined teachers of color comprised only 16.5% of all elementary and secondary public school teachers—a disparity of −59.8%

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teacher underrepresentation (calculated by present author).13 The inverse, of course, is that White teachers are greatly overrepresented. The overrepresentation of White teachers is not confined to the United States. In England, for example, more than 97% of the country’s schools employ White teachers. These teachers instruct a student enrollment that contains 20% culturally diverse students (Boyle & Charles, 2011). Another disturbing fact of teacher training programs has to do with preservice teachers’ attitudes toward and expectations for schools primarily serving students of color. For example, Terrill and Mark (2000) report that 64% of the preservice teachers (65% female, 89% White; no African American) they surveyed (N = 97) stated their first-choice would be teaching students in a White, suburban school; only 22% (n = 21) selected the majority African American school as their first choice. In a related study of preservice teachers (almost exclusively White females), Shultz, Neyhart, and Reck (1996) report that only 27% of 275 respondents (n = 74) to a questionnaire stated they had a clear preference for teaching in an urban school. Also, 20% of 293 respondents (n = 59) gave opinions that urban school children (proxy for low-SES children of color) are cognitively “slower” and “limited,” and these students are “not as motivated.” There is ample evidence that once preservice teachers become regular teachers they carry forth their deficit thinking views.14 Boyd, Grossman, Lankford, Loeb, & Wyckoff (2008), in a study of New York City Public Schools elementary school teachers, note that a substantial percentage of the more effective teachers transferred from lower-performing schools to higher-performing schools, suggesting that via deficit thinking these teachers believe low-SES, low performing students of color are hard to teach. Another focus of this section is to examine a number of studies in which researchers (mostly professors in teacher training programs) report on how the effects of White privilege and racism by preservice teachers, as manifested via deficit thinking, influence their attitudes and behaviors toward low-SES students of color and, in some cases, English learners (ELs). A thread that runs through these investigations is that researchers utilize the teacher education experience as a valuable forum to implement a social justice curriculum designed to identify, interrupt, and transform deficit thinking via critical thinking, self-reflection, the development of an asset-based perspective of students of color, and the establishment of multicultural frames of reference.15 The category of preservice teacher education is a logical place to begin these critical discussions because it is here, at ground zero in teacher training, that deficit thinking among White preservice teachers is first displayed, and more importantly, can be assiduously challenged by informed teacher educators. In their intervention study, Ullucci and Battey (2011) assert that color blindness is the root problem why many students in teacher education programs consistently engage in deficit thinking directed toward low-SES students of color.

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The authors argue that numerous White teacher candidates are quite reticent about discussing the privilege and power that comes from their Whiteness. Such resistance leads, in turn, to the creation of intellectual barriers that block forthright discussions about racism and oppression, and these obstacles are complicit in the creation of racial stratification that dismisses opportunities to engage in conversations about inequality. The authors’ goals in their essay are to expose color blindness and ground color consciousness among preservice teachers. The authors focus on a number of applications they have used in their teacher education courses, such as: story telling via autobiography and biography, videos, interviews, readings, and field work in communities of color. The outcomes Ullucci and Battey zero in on are: (a) the challenge to neutrality of Whiteness by racializing it; (b) the validation of experiences and perspectives of people of color; (c) the naming of educational practices deemed racist and developing a repertoire that is race conscious; (d) the challenge to excavating institutional racism. In a similar line of research advanced by Ullucci and Battey (2011), Swartz (2003) asserts that such teacher education students need to develop emancipatory dispositions that will transform their deficit thinking assumptions about lowSES students of color. In the deficit thinking model, Swartz notes that “urban schools” and “success” are considered oxymoronic and this erroneous perception is strongly shaped by meritocracy where preservice teachers believe that students of color can achieve at high levels if they only try harder. Swartz, a teacher educator, attempts to develop dispositions in her students that have been identified in effective teachers, to wit: (a) model critical thinking; (b) produce empowering knowledge that reflect cultural diversity; (c) engage in creativity that draws from multiple epistemologies; (d) engage oneself in continuous learning; (e) develop self-awareness; (f ) strive for the integration of theory and practice. The author recounts what transpired in a class of hers (90% White and female; sophomores; their first education course; suburban university in the Northeast). For her method, Swartz employed dramaturgy, an ethnographic approach that uses drama “to reenact and represent the voice and presence of those in a research context” (p. 274). Based on her role as discussion facilitator, and drawing from observation notes and audio recordings, Swartz was able to identify and interrupt the students’ deficit thinking and was capable, in a number of instances, to evoke some of the dispositions described above. This was largely done through challenging incongruences and assumptions that were not grounded in fact. Swartz concludes that as preservice teachers attain the desired dispositions, they are more inclined to rethink their longstanding deficit thinking views, entertain new knowledge, and develop strategies to change their conventional thinking about low-SES students of color. The intervention investigation by Hyland and Heuschkel (2010) was inspired by the finding that there is a paucity of research on how teacher educators have helped preservice teachers to recognize and specify oppression,

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especially of the institutional form. Much of this failure, the authors contend, is that preservice teachers have little opportunity to understand that institutional racism is structured both in ideology and practice to privilege some groups of people and marginalize others. Such an orientation among student teachers leads to the good/bad binary, which is expressed in deficit thinking (e.g., low-SES students of color lack achievement motivation; these children are raised in dysfunctional families). The participants in the Hyland and Heuschkel (2010) study included 106 preservice teachers at a large state university enrolled in a course (Individual and Cultural Diversity), required for all candidates in the teacher education program. The authors served as instructors for the course in separate sections. A distinctive feature of this investigation was that the students were mandated, for their field work, to choose from a wide variety of institutions. The institutions most frequently selected were county courthouses, Motor Vehicle Commission offices, museums, and hospitals.16 The authors’ data gathering included students’ written assignments, web-based journal entries, and class discussions. Analyses showed that the preservice teachers were able to identify a number of oppressive aspects of the institutions they visited. Major oppressive themes dealt with linguicism, racism, sexism, and classism. For example, regarding race, one student who visited a museum, wrote: “The guards and cafeteria workers were black, and the guides were white. Those in positions representing knowledge were white” (p. 825). Hyland and Heuschkel conclude that their institutional inquiry assignment was quite successful in assisting the preservice teachers to interrupt the good/bad binary. In doing so, the student teachers were less inclined to blame social problems on putative cultural and individuals deficits of the marginalized, but more so to the regular microaggressions seen in oppressive institutions. The authors also note that it is essential for teacher educators to help their students make the distinction between personal prejudice and how low teacher expectations and deficit thinking become institutionalized in schools that serve low-SES students of color. To sum, several strands appear in the literature by scholars who believe that teacher education can serve as a potent forum for interrupting anti-deficit thinking narratives among preservice teachers. First, although multicultural education courses are important to include, a stand-alone course has minimal impact in developing multicultural perspectives in teacher education students. As such, Locke (2005) asserts that teacher education programs need to be restructured to infuse a multicultural perspective throughout the entire program. Second, Talbert-Johnson (2006) contends it is crucial that preservice teachers attain more than the pedagogical knowledge to become highly qualified teacher candidates. What is also very important to possess is essential dispositions (e.g., empathy; open-mindedness). Third, preservice teachers should be trained to become urban social justice leaders. Cochran-Smith (2004), for example, notes

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that teacher education is a political matter dealing with power relationships. Thus, teacher education students need to be trained as practitioners, researchers, and critics/analysts of the teaching profession.

Teachers Pollack’s (2012a) study focused on “teacher talk”—that is, quotidian teacher discourse about students of color.17 Such teacher talk is commonplace in K-12 education, occurring in locations where teachers come together and converse (e.g., teacher workrooms; faculty lounges). The participants in Pollock’s (2012a) investigation were 10 graduate students enrolled in a Preliminary Administrative Services Credential program at a private college in California. The participants included men and women from diverse ethnic backgrounds and were working as teachers and administrators in public, public charter, and private elementary and secondary schools. Pollack (2012a), the course instructor, gave the participants a 4-week field/journal assignment that asked them to recall and contemplate on conversational narratives they had heard from teachers about students of color. Based on her analysis of the journals, Pollack (2012a) concludes that three deficit-based themes were embedded in the teacher talk regarding students of color: (a) “telling it like it is” (e.g., low expectations); (b) “placing blame outside educators’ sphere of influence” (e.g., parents do not value education); (c) “depicting the other” (e.g., making a sharp binary differentiation between “us” and “them”). Pollack (2012a) also asserts that school administrators in training could highly benefit from such fieldwork so as to personally develop an intensified consciousness about the pervasive and oppressive nature of deficit thinking in schools. These future school leaders need to “‘tune their ears’ to deficit discourse and recognize it as an outward expression, or artifact, of a school’s deeper cultural levels” (p. 887). Another study applicable to the topic of teachers’ educability perceptions of students of color is by Tenenbaum and Ruck (2007). A primary focus of their investigation was whether teachers’ expectations are different for students of color than for White students.18 To address this research question, the authors conducted four separate meta-analyses with a combined 39 samples from 32 reports. The student participants included White, Black, Latino/Latina, and Asian American pupils from diverse grades. For the students of color, Blacks were, by far, the predominant group in numbers. Tenenbaum and Ruck found that in three of the four meta-analyses, teachers held the highest expectations for Asian American students; as well, teachers held higher expectations for White students than for Latino/Latina and Black students. All differences (effect size d) were small, but significant. These differences held even when teacher and student potential moderating variables were tested.19 The authors suggest that the lower teachers’ expectations for Latino/Latina and Black students may help

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explain their typically lower academic performance (Valencia, 2015, chapter 1) via the dynamics of the self-fulfilling prophecy (Brophy, 1983; Rubie-Davis, Hattie, & Hamilton, 2006). It is refreshing to point out that some researchers have approached the topic of perceptions of educability of students of color by employing an asset-based approach (e.g., Halvorsen et al., 2009; Heaton, 2013; Surland, 2010). These and other scholars who draw from an asset-based perspective flatly reject deficit thinking. Rather, they examine the strengths and agency of low-SES students of color, not (alleged) endogenous deficits and shortcomings. For illustration, I discuss the doctoral dissertation by Heaton. This investigation took place in Southern View School District (a pseudonym) in southwestern Utah. Participants were 10 Latino/Latina students (mostly Mexican American) enrolled in two middle schools with about 900 students each, of whom approximately 7% were Latino/Latina. Overall, the Latino/Latina student population in the state has been growing, doubling in size from 2001 to 2010. Concomitantly, Latino/ Latina students were, as a group, academically performing below par. They had very low achievement test scores and the highest dropout rate from high school of any ethnic group in Utah. Heaton’s (2013) primary research question was: Notwithstanding the various challenges and hurdles they had to face (e.g., low SES; being ELs when they were younger; racism; deficit thinking), how do some Latino/Latina students become academically successful? Success was operationalized as having good grades, average attendance, and strong standardized test scores. The 10 successful students who participated were nominated by their teachers. Regarding data collection, Heaton twice interviewed the students (via semistructured measures). He also interviewed the students’ teachers (nominated by the students) and parents (at their homes, and in some cases in Spanish). For his theoretical framework, Heaton drew from resistance theory (the manners in which an oppressed person reacts to oppression), particularly the model developed by Solórzano and Delgado Bernal (2001), which discusses four types of resistance: self-defeating resistance; conformist resistance; reactionary behavior; transformational resistance.20 A second framework Heaton uses is resilience theory (how an oppressed person overcomes oppression by use of facilitating abilities) (see, e.g., Bernard, 2004; Truebridge, 2014). A third theoretical notion Heaton utilizes is resilient resistance, which serves as a bridge between resistance and resilience theory (see Yosso, 2000). Based on rich data from the student participant interviews, Heaton (2013) observed a number of commonalities. To wit, the students were strikingly successful academically—to such a degree that they would rank at the top of their school, not just in comparison to Latino/Latina students. They were very hard working, conscientious about doing homework, held high expectations of themselves, sought excellence in their academic work, and were cognizant about

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the relation between doing well in school and eventually attaining a solid career after going to college. Interviews of the parents showed that the students’ mothers and fathers fully supported their hard work,21 valued education, monitored homework, and attended parent-teacher conferences and school meetings. The interviews with the students’ teachers demonstrated caring relationships and high expectations. Via interviews with the students, Heaton reports that they faced a number of stressors—i.e., being of low-SES background was a constant reminder of making ends meet, having been ELs at one time was a hurdle to overcome, and having parents with low-schooling attainment made it difficult for some parents to navigate the educational system. Furthermore, knowing that they (some students and parents) were undocumented was a frequent stressor, and being exposed to racism and deficit thinking were sources of microaggressions. In sum, Heaton concludes that the successful Latino/Latina students, compared to those who were not academically successful, appeared to be driven by resilience via (a) personal strengths (e.g., able to form positive relationships; having effective communication; able to think critically) and (b) environmental factors (e.g., having very supportive parents; teachers with high expectations of them). On a final note, Heaton reports that some of the interviewed teachers, when asked to explain the school failure of unsuccessful Latino/Latina students, “there were undeniable echoes of deficit thinking” (p. 94). That is, these teachers blamed the students (e.g., exerted little effort) and the parents (e.g., did not value education).

Administrators Institutional leadership is a very powerful factor, if not the strongest, in the promotion and realization of school success for low-SES students of color.22 Such leadership is particularly germane to school principals (e.g., Brock & Grady, 2011; Hallinger & Heck, 1996; Wallace Foundation, 2013). Regarding the relation between leadership and student achievement, Waters, Marzano, & McNulty (2003) reviewed 70 studies based on 30 years of research. In their meta-analysis, the authors report that the average effect size is .25 (conveyed as a correlation coefficient). Expressed differently, this increase in the principals’ leadership ability translates into a mean gain of 10 percentile points in achievement in the more successful school. Waters et al. note that 21 different leadership responsibilities (p. 4, Figure 3) serve as mechanisms to improve student academic performance—for example, “culture” (promotion of shared beliefs-cooperation); “curriculum, instruction, and assessment” (direct involvement in these schooling facets); “change agent” (willingness to challenge the status quo). The extant literature on institutional leadership is dominated by research on school principals. A paucity of investigations exist where school superintendents have served as participants (e.g., Garza, 2008; Skrla & Scheurich, 2004;

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Weems, 2013). There are two major explanations for this. First, a prevalent view is that the superintendency, by design, is remotely situated from the classroom, and thus superintendents abdicate instructional leadership to the school principal (Skrla & Scheurich). Second, superintendents, who are advocates of social justice and anti-deficit thinking, often learn early in their careers that working toward school success for low-SES students of color is not easy. In his autoethnography, Garza discusses the serious obstacles placed in front of him by an adversarial South Texas school board who abused its power to demand and obtain selfserving privilege. Before I begin this brief review of germane literature on administrators, it would be useful to outline the notion of social justice. An insightful source is Rawls’ 1971 A Theory of Justice. In this seminal work, in which he examines a system of justice, he discusses four major principles of social justice: (a) justice demands equal treatment of all societal members; (b) men, women, and children are to be viewed as individuals; (c) all people should have equal opportunity; (d) if inequalities remain, the most disadvantaged must be favored regarding reform. In the late 1990s, the ideas of leading and teaching for social justice gained prominence in the field of education as exemplified by the publication of a number of books (e.g., Ayers, Hunt, & Quinn, 1998; Darling-Hammond, French, & García-López, 2002; Frattura & Capper, 2007). Although there is no consensus on a definition of social justice, most scholars do agree that school leaders in social justice are guided by certain principles (e.g., an anti-deficit thinking mindset; the reclamation, appropriation, and advancement of rights concerned with equality; the promotion of democratic education).23 Kose (2009) presents a framework discussing the principal’s role in professional development for teachers interested in promoting social justice. The proposal by Kose differs, however, in that he draws from empirically based data. Using a comprehensive qualitative multicase study design, Kose examined how three school principals for social justice helped attain and shape equality in their schools. He collected data over a period of 5 months via semi structured interviews, observations (e.g., staff meetings), and the shadowing of the principals.24 The participating principals were White females (two elementary schools and one middle school located in the Midwest).25 The ethnic populations of the schools were quite diverse, with representations of White, Black, Latino/Latina, Asian American, and American Indian students. The data Kose collected suggest there are five roles of the principal, working together with teachers, which help optimize the professional development for social justice among the teachers. The roles are: (1) transformative visionary; (2) transformative learning leader; (3) transformative structural leader; (4) transformative cultural leader; (5) transformative political leaders.26 The discussion of the framework that Kose presents is quite comprehensive. It appears that the function of transformative cultural and political leader is the most germane to an anti-deficit thinking narrative.

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In this context, the principals actively facilitated sensitive conversations with teachers and encouraged them to development strategies that would help them take greater responsibility for understanding the ubiquitous nature of institutional racism. Teachers were asked to examine their own unconscious racism, explore provocative issues involving race, class, and gender, and develop high expectations for all students. The dissertation by Simone (2012) is one of the most sustained explorations of how social justice oriented secondary school principals work, relentlessly, toward the elimination of deficit thinking in their schools and replace it with democratic education. For his conceptual framework, Simone primarily draws from three sources: (a) Valencia’s (1997b) work on the evolution and meaning of deficit thinking; (b) Shields, Bishop, & Mazawi’s (2005) discussion of how repositioning of the self is necessary to promote practices that foster an education that is equitable and challenges deficit thinking; (c) Starratt’s (1991) and Weiner’s (2003) work on transformative leadership. To ensure that the participating principals indeed rejected deficit thinking and worked toward democratic education, Simone used a purposeful sampling process.27 The two principals selected are a White female, Leigh Anderson, of Jackson Middle School; at the time of the study she had 12 years of experience in education. The second principal is a White male, Sam Ashford, of Brook Hills High School; he had 16 years of experience in education.28 Both schools are located in suburban areas of a large metropolitan area in the Midwest. Given that his investigation sought to examine how deficit thinking practices and policies marginalize students,29 Simone selected schools with diverse ethnic populations. For example, Brook Hills HS, with a total enrollment of 2,000 pupils, was distributed as follows: White (63%); Latino/Latina (18%); Black (10%); Asian American (7%); multiracial (3%). Of the total enrollment, there were 4% limited English proficiency students; 36% of the total students were low income. For data collection, Simone employed initial and follow-up interviews of the principals, an anonymous teacher survey, and observations. The teaching staff at the time of the study at Jackson MS was overwhelmingly White (98%) and female (about 70%), with 1% Black and 1% Latino/Latina; about 50% of the total teaching force had a master’s degree. At Brook Hills HS, the teaching staff was predominantly White (93%); 53% were female and 46% were male. The remainder of the teachers were 6% Latino/ Latina and 1% Black. Of the total teaching staff, 75% had obtained a master’s degree or above. Simone’s (2012) study was premised on the assumption that deficit thinking existed at the two schools. It was important to gauge the extent of such deficit thinking, as the goal of the investigation was to explore the principals’ role in eliminating deficit thinking. Simone conducted an anonymous teacher survey;30 one key item he asked was an open-ended question in regard to academic failure of the pupils, to wit: “Think of a child who is not succeeding in your class. Please

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list the reasons for this lack of success” (p. 89). At Jackson MS, responses numbered 45 (see p. 89, Table 4). Of the total 45, 43 (96%) could be characterized as being deficit thinking explanations. Of these 43, 32 (74%) were directed toward the students (e.g., student lacks effort/motivation; student lacks skills). Eleven (26%) of the 43 deficit thinking responses were oriented toward parents/home parents (e.g., lack of parental support; economic situation). The survey replies (N = 32) for the Brook Hills HS teachers were strikingly similar in the extent and types of deficit thinking (see p. 130, Table 8) compared to the Jackson MS teacher responses. Of the total 32 responses, 26 (81%) were deficit thinking in nature, mainly directed toward the students and the remainder toward the parents and home life. Zero of the replies suggested that the institutional structure and workings of the two schools were implicated in the students’ academic failure. In sum, the results of the two teacher surveys revealed that deficit thinking was entrenched at the schools and that Principal Anderson and Principal Ashford had a major challenge in eliminating deficit thinking at their respective schools. In his reporting of findings, Simone (2012) discusses six strategies the principals used to challenge and eliminate deficit thinking. Most of these strategies were uncovered in both the middle school and high school. 1. Dialogue. Deliberate dialogue was a highly significant, overarching finding of the investigation. Specifically, dialogue that was highly structured and purposeful loomed as a critical factor in the principals’ attempts to eliminate deficit thinking. Principal Anderson of Jackson MS used dialogue with all stakeholders, with the intent of addressing deficit thinking assumptions of students and families, validate any concerns, construct empathy, and monitor student progress. By contrast, Principal Ashford of Brook Hills HS employed dialogue primarily directed at the teaching staff and students. His goals involved the development of a culture of tolerance and the creation of space. 2. Parental Involvement. Although both principals referenced parents as part of their regular routine, Principal Anderson viewed parents as highly instrumental in the process of eliminating deficit thinking. Parents were involved in shared decision making, given opportunities to demonstrate they valued education, and were viewed as key, engaged stakeholders. 3. Professional Development. This emerged as a vital tool in the principals’ efforts to eliminate deficit thinking. Principal Anderson’s strategy used professional development as a springboard for dialogue. During these staff development forums, learning occurred in regard to the deficit thinking practices that led to the marginalization of students and how their academic achievement was negatively affected. By contrast, Principal Ashford utilized professional development to engender a peer-coaching culture that was designed to improve student achievement.

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4. Access. Both principals strongly believed that curriculum differentiation—the tracking of low-SES students of color into the least challenging courses— contributed to their marginalization via teachers having low expectations of their academic abilities. Ample research has shown that such deficit thinking negatively effects students’ motivation to do well in school (e.g., Valencia, 2015, chapter 7). As such, Principals Anderson and Ashford actively worked toward detracking in their schools by providing discounted students access to advanced placement courses, the gifted program, and eliminating the basic track. The detracking in both schools has shown dramatic results. For example, Principal Ashford of Brook Hills HS, reports that after 4 years of detracking the dropout rate declined from around 10% to less than 0.5%. 5. Personnel. Both principals actively used personnel decisions as a strategy to eradicate practices that were guided by deficit thinking. Principal Anderson’s utilization of personnel decisions was more reactive in nature. She did regular classroom walkthroughs and observed teacher−student interactions, with the aim of identifying and correcting any practices that led to the deprecation of students. By contrast, Principal Ashford employed personnel decisions that were more proactive in design. For the initial job interview, he spoke of the importance of hiring teachers who are empathetic of marginalized students and who showed they could personalize these students’ lived experiences. 6. Homework. Principal Anderson, in particular, realized that the lived realities of some of the marginalized students made it difficult for them to complete and submit homework assignments. In turn, some teachers interpreted this behavior via deficit thinking lens and concluded that the students did not have the ability to do their homework. By contrast, Principal Anderson interpreted that the students’ failure to submit homework was largely due to the demands of the home environment (e.g., having to take care of younger siblings; cook meals while parents were at work). As such, homework assignments became penalizing tools. Therefore, Principal Anderson encouraged teachers to use homework as a non-graded, formative assessment—not as a summative assessment for helping to determine a final grade. In sum, the study by Simone (2012) is an exemplary case study of the role secondary school principals can play in addressing the student relegated to the fringes of the school by eliminating deficit thinking among the teaching staff. Simone argues that it is critical for secondary school principals to work assiduously for a paradigm shift in their schools, within a framework of structured, dialogic goals that have as their intent the rejection of deficit thinking. The case study conducted by Flessa (2009) focused on four, urban, middle school principals who almost exclusively held deficit thinking views about their students, the families, and larger community. The author notes that much of

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previous scholarship concentrated on “bad-thinking” educators. In his investigation, however, Flessa asked whether such deficit thinking orientations were, in fact, aligned with the status quo attitudes about urban communities. This research was undertaken in the Springfield Unified School District (SUSD) in Northern California.31 The SUSD is a moderately sized district, enrolling 53,545 students. Of the 17 middle schools, Flessa only selected schools (n = 4) that had high enrollments of low-SES students color and were quite low performing.32 The four schools and their respective principals were: Cruz MS (Principal Caria Martin, an African American female); Franklin MS (Principal Clark Campbell, an African American male); Chavez MS (Principal Carolina Montoya, a Latina); Webster MS (Principal Carol Carter, a White female). Regarding methodology, Flessa collected three types of data: (a) basic demographic information (e.g., city; neighborhoods); (b) qualitative observational data of the principals’ actions and decisions; (c) interview data of principals and teachers. Of the set of questions Flessa (2009) asked the principals, the most general question guiding his thesis was: “What does it mean for your daily work that this is an urban school?” Flessa reports that a major theme emerged across the four principals’ responses: Urbanness is negative. Common responses were negative descriptions that urban life is characterized, for example, by poverty, drug addiction, violence, racial conflicts, lack of solid parenting skills, socially/ culturally incomplete children, incompatibility between the home and school culture, students who are poor achievers in their academic work, and uninvolved parents. In short, Flessa summarizes that “the principals’ descriptions of urbanness is rooted in the language of deficits” (p. 361). As such, he notes that the principals believe that a “fix the child” strategy is a remedy and thus the principal’s role is to “make the school the antidote to their upbringing and environment” (p. 349). Flessa concludes that the principals in the study are at a major disconnect with the students, parents, and community. What is sorely needed is an articulation and enactment of a vision of schooling as a common quest for both educators and families. The first step is to end the demonizing of these marginalized stakeholders. On the subject of school superintendents who strive for social justice, I consider the dissertation by Weems (2013) one of the most comprehensive and informative works produced to date. His study dissects the experiences of two school superintendents who are well known in their community and schools for their rejection of deficit thinking views and embracement of social justice principles and practices. The investigation was conducted in the Lakeside School District (LSD), situated in the working-class suburban community of Lakeside (in a sizable Midwestern city).33 Lakeside is composed of a majority White population. Over the last decade, the African American enrollment in the LSD constituted the fastest growing group. The LSD enrolls about 2,500 students, and has one high school, one middle school, and three elementary schools.

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To identify his two superintendents, Weems (2013) used purposeful sampling. He asked a number of informants (e.g., university professors; school principals; teachers) to name school superintendents who at some point in time advocated and worked for social justice in the schools. Among those nominated, he selected Paula (current superintendent of the LSD) and Marsha (former superintendent of the LSD). The study carried out by Weems is a comprehensive case study, involving in-depth interviews of each woman, one joint interview with them, a site visit to each school, and observations of the community. Based on the interviews with the two participants, Weems underscores that both Paula and Marsha’s lived experiences (i.e., when growing up as a teenager, Marsha tutored Black students; serving as teachers; working as superintendents) significantly allowed them many opportunities to encounter deficit thinking, class and racial discrimination, and resistance to change for equality. Such experiences dramatically helped in shaping their later work as social justice leaders. Weems (2013) notes that in the mid-1990s the African American enrollment in the LSD began to increase via a statewide ballot initiative, Schools of Choice. This law allowed students to transfer to other school districts. Over time, African American families in the inner city exercised their rights and transferred their children to suburban school districts, including the LSD. Unfortunately, these transfers were met by resistance by some White community members and some administrative and teaching staff of the LSD. In light of these racial hostilities, Marsha and Paula faced a number of countervailing pressures in their pursuit of social justice. Weems reports that the most prevalent theme that emanated from these pressures was deficit thinking (citing Valencia, 1997b, 2010; Valencia & Black, 2002). In short, many White members of the Lakeside suburb and the LSD teaching staff “thought of African American students as less than White students” (Weems, p. 81). These pervasively held and taken-for-granted deficit thinking views manifested in various ways (e.g., stereotyping of African American students as low achievers; belief that culture of poverty shaped alleged dysfunctional nature of African American families).34 Another example of a major theme that emerged and presented a countervailing pressure for Marsha and Paula was cultural disconnects between the teaching staff and the African American students (e.g., lack of knowledge of African American culture demonstrated by White teachers). Marsha explains that such cultural gulfs are guided by color blindness (i.e., denial that race and racial issues are significant in education and other spheres of life). Still yet another example of a countervailing pressure to Paula and Marsha’s efforts to promote social justice in the LSD was resistance to change, which took two forms: community resistance and staff resistance. Community resistance to change manifested, in part, in White flight. Driven by deficit thinking perceptions of African American students and their families, many White families transferred their children out of LSD to neighboring school districts.

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Regarding teacher resistance, Marsha informed researcher Weems that many teachers “didn’t want to have kids (i.e., African American) who were different than them” (p. 97). Marsha also mentioned that another expression of staff resistance occurred on Martin Luther King Day, an annual diversity training forum sponsored by the school district. Marsha recalled that teacher absenteeism increased as teachers called in sick. Weems (2013) notes that in the literature on social justice leadership, social justice oriented administrators have been found to vigorously resist oppressive and exploitative social relations. Marsha and Paula can be characterized as such. Weems found that seven themes describe the resistance of Marsha and Paula: (a) working toward supportive school cultures for teachers (e.g., providing resources); (b) offering training in intercultural communication; (c) allowing student voice;35 (d) utilizing networks of support (i.e., relying on a diverse group of individuals); (e) identifying and working with campus administrators (particularly school principals); (f ) being aware that the identity of social justice leaders evolve, often via conflicts; (g) being aware that the leadership practices of social justice administrators evolve over the period of their tenure, also often through conflicts. In the concluding chapter of his dissertation, Weems (2013) considers teacher resistance and social justice leadership. In doing so, he draws from Valencia’s deficit thinking model (Valencia, 1997b, 2010; Valencia & Black, 2002), Bourdieu’s concept of doxa (1992), and Mezirow’s transformational learning theory (Mezirow, 1991, 2000, 2012). Weems asserts that this triangulation of scholarship is useful in helping to interpret the results of his study in relation to the research questions posed and the implications for policy, practice, and further research. As Weems found, many teachers held deficit thinking views of low-SES students of color. In light of this resistance of teachers to look at situational and systemic factors (see Valencia, 2015) that could better explain school failure of marginalized students of color, Weems argues that it is at this juncture that social justice leaders must disrupt these deficit thinking perceptions held by teachers. In this discussion by Weems, he draws from Bourdieu’s (1977) writing of the concept of doxa, initially reviewed by Valencia (1997c, chapter 1) in the context of deficit thinking. In his summary of Bourdieu’s narrative, Weems notes that Bourdieu’s concept of doxa, orthodoxy, and heterodoxy are key notions in his theories of capital and symbolic power—frameworks to understand class domination. To Bourdieu, doxa is that part of class society in which the social world is undisputed. Yet, when the world of “opinion” is opened via argument and crisis situations, heterodoxy (unconventional opinions; dissent; nonconformity) comes into play as “the dominated classes have an interest in pushing back the limits of doxa, and exposing the arbitrariness of the taken for granted…”36 (p. 169). By contrast, Bourdieu argues, the powerful class has an interest in defending doxa, via orthodoxy.

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In order to assist social justice leaders in the disruption of doxa, Weems (2013) asserts that Mezirow’s transformational learning theory has considerable utility. Weems summarizes transformational learning, as conceptualized by Mezirow (1991, 2000), as consisting of four components. First, the learner undergoes a disorienting dilemma that serves as an impetus for transforming one’s perspective. Second, this cognitive dissonance challenges the learner to engage in selfreflection so he/she can try to understand the basis of the conflict between the new experience and what one thinks is true. Third, the learner then becomes immersed in reflective discourse as he/she seeks out consensual validation in discussions with others concerning their new beliefs. Fourth, the learner proceeds to act in ways that are consonant with his/her fresh perspectives and beliefs. As Weems notes, transformational learning theory does have some value as a tool in the interpretation of some of the data collected in his study. Marsha and Paula shared a number of stories that reflected they had engaged in transformational learning and how such transformations helped them to change their perspectives and practices in numerous ways, leading them to reject deficit thinking and work toward equitable schooling practices and outcomes for marginalized students. Such practices, for example, include providing teacher training in intercultural communication, utilizing support networks, and allowing student voice. In sum, this insightful investigation by Weems is likely to serve as an inspiration for others who take on the difficult challenge to lead for social justice.

Parents In the U.S. literature, much has been written about low-SES parents of color (mostly African American and Latino/Latina) in the context of deficit thinking (e.g., Lawson, 2003; Lightfoot, 2004; Moreno & Valencia, 2011; Valencia, 2010, chapter 5; Valencia, 2015, chapter 8; Valencia & Black, 2002). A myth that fails to die is that low-SES parents of color do not value education (see just cited references by Valencia and associates). This fallacy should not be discounted, as there is considerable empirical evidence that a positive relation exists between the degree of parents’ participation in their children’s education and their offsprings’ academic achievement (e.g., Barnard, 2004; Hong & Ho, 2005; Jeynes, 2011; Valencia, 2015, chapter 8). It is refreshing that some newer research has focused on the strengths of low-SES parents of color by using an assets-based approach (e.g., Barajas-López & Ishimaru, 2016; Rios-Aguílar & Kiyama, 2012). Also, there has been research in which researchers call for reconceptualizations of parental involvement: from parental involvement to family involvement (e.g., Knight, Norton, Bentley, & Dixon, 2004), and from parental involvement to parental engagement (e.g., Olivos, Ochoa, & Jiménez-Castellanos, 2011). Notwithstanding these positive advancements, deficit thinking apropos to low-SES parents of color persists. A good example of this pattern is discussed

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in an insightful essay by Lightfoot (2004). Her focus is on the term, “parental involvement.” She demonstrates how the language we use to describe parental involvement subtly molds and restricts our perception of reality. By comparing literature on parental involvement among highly educated upper-middle-SES parents and low-SES immigrant parents, Lightfoot finds that some scholars produce deficit thinking narratives by suggesting—via conjoined metaphors of “full/empty” or “having/lacking” —that the former group of parents are deemed superior and the latter group inferior. This binarization leads to perceptions that the higher-SES parents are seen as full vessels, overflowing with resources and whose involvement in their children’s education must be valued. By contrast, lower-SES parents are viewed as empty vessels, with few resources and thus these containers must be filled by teachers and administrators before these parents can offer anything of value to the schools or to their children. Lightfoot concludes that before educators can extricate themselves from this deficit, binary thinking they must examine their use of language and begin to see low-SES parents (especially of color) as full of knowledge and quite capable of helping their children succeed in school. In a similar fashion to the above essay by Lightfoot (2004), Lawson’s (2003) investigation focused on the meanings and functions of parental involvement by examining parental and teacher perceptions of the notion of parental involvement. Using semi structured interviews, Lawson undertook a 2-year ethnography of a school (60% African American; 40% White, of Appalachian descent 37) and the local community (94% African American; 70% below poverty line). The 12 participating teachers (African American; White; one multiethnic) taught third- through fifth-grade students. Not one of the teachers resided in the nearby neighborhood or community. The parents numbered 13 (all African American; low SES; 11 high school graduates). The author’s participants, by design, included “involved” parents (n = 6) and “uninvolved” parents (n = 7). Lawson reports that the parents’ narratives were framed around five primary themes. For example, parents felt that their involvement was shaped by a schoolcentric perspective, not a community-centric one. The parents viewed their involvement as one of a desperate struggle for their children’s success and should transcend the needs of the teachers and school. Another theme was about poor communication between teachers and parents. This barrier to better communication, the parents noted, was based in the teachers’ aloofness that they perceived themselves as “experts” and thus excluding/ignoring the parents’ opinions. Regarding teachers’ perceptions of parental involvement, teachers often said they believed parents should acquiesce to the needs of the school, as conceptualized by the teachers. Furthermore, teachers, without explicitly mentioning race and culture, did engage in deficit thinking directed towards the parents. The teachers noted that most of the children come to school not ready/able to learn, and the children’s unmet needs (e.g., good nutrition) were due to an

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inadequate home environment, and thus the parents are irresponsible. Teachers believed that such negative parenting customs are intergenerational and become normalized (cf. culture of poverty).38 In regard to uninvolved parents, teachers are unforgiving and pathologize them. Lawson (2003) concludes by noting that the participant parents, as a whole, are actively serving as change agents struggling for their children’s school success, but the “teachers’ deficit orientations toward parents contribute to a fairly systematic silencing of the strengths, struggles, and community-centric worldviews evident in the parents’ narratives” (p. 117). In light of the findings by Lawson and others (e.g., Dryfoos, 2002; Valencia, 2015, chapter 8), there is growing support for a community-centric over a school-centric approach to parental engagement. The communitycentric focus represents an anti-deficit thinking counternarrative in which schools are conceptualized as institutions that should serve the community and provide greater opportunities and services that the parents consider important. Parents are constituents of a collective and are allowed chances to lead and set agendas (Warren, Hong, Rubin, & Uy, 2009).39

Notes 1 Although the genetic pathology model in the U.S. hit full stride in the 1920s, its origin in “scientific” discourse can be traced back about a half century from then to English scholar, Sir Francis Galton (see Valencia, 1997a, pp. 42–43). In his 1870 book, Hereditary Genius: An Inquiry Into Its Laws and Consequences, Galton argued that humans’ natural abilities are inherited. Based on genealogical data from England, he concluded that men of eminence (e.g., statesmen, military commanders, scientists, and poets) were in such positions because of their “natural gifts,” which were genetically inherited via their parents and ancestors who also held positions of notability. Galton failed to consider, however, the rival explanation that in a highly stratified England, eminent people were in such fortunate positions because privilege, status, and wealth were socially inherited. Galton was not remiss at presenting his views on racial differences in intelligence, which he noted had a hereditary base. He contended that the ancient Greeks were the brightest, Anglo-Saxons were ranked intermediately, and the American Negro and the Australian Aboriginal people ranked at the bottom in intelligence. 2 U.S. Population (2018)—Worldometers. Retrieved November 20, 2018 from worldometers.info/world-population/us-population/. 3 Ancestry of U.S. population by rank-Infoplease. Retrieved November 20, 2018 from https://www.infoplease.com/us/race-population/ancestry-us-population-rank. 4 See Valencia (2010, p. 28, note 41) for how the U.S. Census Bureau determines who is Hispanic. 5 See Frey (2018) for a comprehensive discussion of the impact of the “diversity explosion” on the U.S. economy, politics, education, and culture. 6 In some states, students of color are already the majority K-12 enrollment. For example, in AY 2013-2014, students of color in California made up 75% of the total K-12 enrollment (see Valencia, 2015, p. 25, Table 1.13). 7 See Valencia (2015, pp. 25-26) for a reply to this query. 8 Portions of this chapter draw from, with revisions: Valencia, (1997a, p. 43); Valencia (1997c, p. 9); Valencia (2010, pp. 59-60, 126, 138); Valencia (2013, pp. 1-2, 5-7); Valencia (2015, pp. 174-175, 182, 235).

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9 The report analyzed four groupings of high schools (low poverty to high poverty) based on proportion of students eligible for free or reduced-price lunch. 10 For these data, Richwine (2009) draws from Lynn and Vanhanen (2006)—whom I critique based on their earlier work (Lynn & Vanhanen, 2002; see Valencia 2010, chapter 2, pp. 57–61). 11 Although at times he refers to other Latino/Latina groups, Mexican immigrants are his main focus. 12 For more on the alleged negative impact of Mexican immigration to the U.S. and immigration reform, see Rector and Richwine (2013). 13 For further discussion of such disparities, see Albert Shanker Institute (2015), Valencia (2010, p. 177, note 1), and Valencia (2015, p. 175). 14 For examples of investigations of teachers’ deficit thinking toward low-SES students of color, see: Hambacher and Thompson (2015); Pitzer (2015); Pollack (2012a); Walker (2011); Watson (2012); Williams (2008). 15 For discussion of these interventions (e.g., Horton & Pacifici, 2003; Marx, 2006; Sutterby, Rubin, & Abrego, 2007; Young, 2007), which I have previously presented, see Valencia (2010, pp. 126–130). 16 For the complete list of institutional locations the preservice teachers selected, see Hyland and Heuschkel (2010, p. 824, Table 1). 17 In another study, Pollock (2012b) includes teacher talk about parents of color. In the interest of space, I do not discuss her conclusions. 18 In addition, Tenenbaum and Ruck (2007) also examined differences by student ethnicity for teacher referrals (gifted program; special education; disciplinary action), teachers’ positive and neutral speech, and teachers’ negative speech. Due to space limitations I do not discuss these findings. 19 An example of a student participant moderating variable is grade level, and an example of a teacher moderating variable is status of the rater (e.g., classroom teacher; preservice teacher). 20 For a summary of the model developed by Solórzano and Delgado Bernal (2001), see Valencia (2015, pp. 290–292). 21 The parents in Heaton’s (2013) study often used consejos (intimate and empathetic advice-giving narratives) to support their children. 22 See, for example, McKenzie and Scheurich (2004, 2007); McKenzie, Skrla, and Scheurich (2006); Reyes (2005); Reyes and Wagstaff (2005); Shields (2006); Skrla, Erlandson, Reed, and Wilson (2001); Skrla, Scheurich, García, and Nolly (2004). 23 See Valencia (2010, pp. 138–141; 2015, pp. 299–307). 24 Kose (2009) also interviewed other school administrators, district trainers, and teachers. 25 See Kose (2009, pp. 634–635) for a discussion of how he identified the principals. 26 See Kose (2009, p. 639, Table 1) for a capsule presentation of the five principal roles and the social justice practices associated with each role. 27 For further details about the sampling procedure, see Simone (2012, chapter 3). 28 The names of the principals and their schools are pseudonyms. 29 Simone (2012), drawing from García and Guerra (2004), defines marginalized students as students of low-SES background, and/or students from families whose cultural and linguistic characteristics differ from their White peers and are treated differently because of such differences. 30 See Simone (2012, APPENDIX B). 31 The name of the school district, as well as the names of the schools and their principals are pseudonyms. 32 The percentages of combined students of color (African American; Latino/Latina; Asian/Asian American) enrolled in the four schools ranged from 92% to 97%. The percentages of students receiving free or reduced lunch price ranged from 50% to 72%. All

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four schools were ranked quite low on the Academic Performance Index (three schools were ranked at 1, the lowest decile; one school was ranked at 3). Regarding fully credentialed teachers in the four schools, the percentages ranged from 38% to 68%. See Flessa (2009, p. 344, Table 1) for detailed demographic data on the above variables. 33 The names of the school district and the community, as well as the two superintendents (whom I name later), are pseudonyms. 34 For a critique of culture of poverty as a deficit thinking narrative, see Valencia (2010, chapter 3). 35 For a discussion of the importance of student agency, voice, and empowerment, see Valencia (2015, chapter 9). 36 For examples of scholars who have engaged in heterodoxy vis-à-vis deficit thinking, see Valencia (1997b, 2010, and 2015). 37 Most of the White parents resided on the fringes of the local community and thus were not within walking distance to the school. As a result, these parents had difficulties getting involved in school activities, and were not included as participants by Lawson (2003). 38 See Valencia (2010, chapter 3; 2015, pp. 38–41). 39 For a discussion of the community-centric approach described by Warren et al. (2009), see Valencia (2015, p. 278).

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Carnevale, A. P., Rose, S. J., & Cheah, B. (2013). The college payoff: Education, occupations, lifetime earnings. Washington, DC: Georgetown University. Center on Education and the Workforce. Churchill, W. (2004). Kill the Indian, save the man: The genocidal impact of American Indian residential schools. San Francisco, CA: City Lights Publishers. Cochran-Smith, M. (2004). Walking the road: Race, diversity, and social justice in teacher education. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Darling-Hammond, L., French, J., & García-López, S. P. (Eds.). (2002). Learning to teach for social justice. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Dryfoos, J. (2002). Full-service community schools: Creating new institutions. Phi Delta Kappan, 83, 393–399. Flessa, J. (2009). Urban school principals, deficit frameworks, and implications for leadership. Journal of School Leadership, 19, 334–373. Frattura, E. M., & Capper, C. A. (2007). Leading for social justice:Transforming schools for all learners. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press. Frey, W. H. (2018). Diversity explosion: How new racial demographics are remaking America (Rev. ed.). Washington, DC: Brooking Press. Galton, F. (1870). Hereditary genius: An inquiry into its laws and consequences. New York, NY: D. Appleton and Co. García, S. B., & Guerra, P. L. (2004). Deconstructing deficit thinking. Education & Urban Society, 36, 150–168. Garza, E., Jr. (2008). Autoethnography of a first-time superintendent: Challenges to leadership for social justice. Journal of Latinos in Education, 7, 163–176. Greenberg, A. S. (2012). A wicked war: Polk, Clay, Lincoln, and the 1846 invasion of Mexico. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf. Hallinger, P., & Heck, R. H. (1996). Reassessing the principals’ role in school effectiveness: A review of empirical research, 1980-1995. Educational Administration Quarterly, 32, 5–44. Halvorsen, A., Lee, V. E., & Andrade, F. H. (2009). A mixed-method study of teachers’ attitudes about teaching in urban and low-income schools. Urban Education, 44, 181–224. Hambacher, E., & Thompson, W. C. (2015). Breaking the mold: Thinking beyond deficits. Journal of Educational Controversy, 9 (1). Retrieved March 31, 2015 from https://cedar. wwu.edu/jec/vol9/iss1/7/. Heaton, D. (2013). Resilience and resistance in academically successful Latino/a students. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Logan, Utah: Utah State University. Herrstein, R. J., & Murray, C. (1994). The bell curve: Intelligence and class structure in American life. New York, NY: Free Press. Hong, S., & Ho, L-Z. (2005). Direct and indirect longitudinal effects of parental involvement on student achievement: Second-order latent growth modeling across ethnic groups. Journal of Educational Psychology, 97, 32–42. Horton, J., & Pacifici, L. (2003). Expanding preservice teachers’ notions of literacy and diversity. In W.Trathen (Ed.), American reading forum online yearbook, volume XXIII: Reading at the crossroads (pp. 1–15). Retrieved June 15, 2007, from https://www.americanreadingforum. com/yearbook/html/Horton.htm. Humes, K. R., Jones, N. A., & Ramírez, R. R. (2011, March). Overview of race and Hispanic origin: 2010 (2010 Census Briefs, C2010B2—02). Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Commerce, Economics, and Statistics Administration, Bureau of the Census. Retrieved February 23, 2019 from www.census.gov/prod/cen2010/briefs/c2010br-02.pdf.

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Hyland, N. E., & Heuschkel, K. (2010). Fostering understanding of institutional oppression among U.S. preservice teachers. Teaching and Teacher Education, 26, 821–829. Ingersoll, R. R., & May, H. (2011). The minority teacher shortage: Fact or fable? Phi Delta Kappan, 93, 62–65. Retrieved February 19, 2014 from www.gse.upenn.edu/pdf/rmi/ Fact_or_Fable.pdf. Jeynes, W. H. (2011). Parental involvement and academic success. New York, NY: Routledge. Jung, M-K. (2011). Constituting the U.S. empire-state and white supremacy: The early years. In M-K. Jung, J. H. C. Vargas, & E. Bonilla-Silva (Eds.), State of white supremacy: Racism, governance, and the United States (pp. 1–23). Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Kausal, N., Magnuson, K., & Waldfogel, J. (2011). How is family income related to investments in children’s learning? In G. J. Duncan & R. J. Murnane (Eds.), Wither opportunity? Rising inequality, schools, and children’s life chances (pp. 187–205). New York, NY: Russell Sage Foundation. Klarman, M. J. (2004). From Jim Crow to civil rights:The Supreme Court and the struggle for racial equality. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Kluger, R. (2004). Simple justice: The history of brown v. Board of education and black America’s struggle for equality. New York, NY:Vintage Books. Knight, M. C., Norton, N. E. L., Bentley, C. C., & Dixon, I. R. (2004). The power of black and Latina/o counterstories: Urban families and college-going processes. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 35, 99–120. Kose, B. W. (2009). The principal’s role in professional development for social justice: An empirically-based transformative framework. Urban Education, 44, 628–663. Lawson, M. A. (2003). School-family relations in context: Parent and teacher perceptions of parent involvement. Urban Education, 38, 77–133. Lightfoot, D. (2004). “Some parents just don’t care”: Decoding the meanings of parental involvement in urban schools. Urban Education, 39, 91–107. Locke, S. (2005). Institutional social and cultural influences on the multicultural perspectives of preservice teachers. Multicultural Perspectives, 7, 20–28. Lynn, R., & Vanhanen, T. (2002). IQ and the wealth of nations. Westport, CT: Praeger. Lynn, R., & Vanhanen, T. (2006). IQ and global inequality. Augusta, GA: Washington Summit Publishers. Madley, B. (2017). An American genocide:The United States and the California Indian catastrophe, 1846–1873. New Haven, CT:Yale University Press. Marx, S. (2006). Revealing the invisible: Confronting passive racism in teacher education. New York, NY: Routledge. McKenzie, K. B., & Scheurich, J. J. (2004). Equity traps: A useful construct for preparing principals to lead schools that are successful with racially diverse students. Educational Administration Quarterly, 40, 601–632. McKenzie, K. B., & Scheurich, J. J. (2007). King Elementary: A new principal plans how to transform a diverse urban school. Journal of Cases in Educational Leadership, 10, 19–27. McKenzie, K. B., Skrla, L., & Scheurich, J. J. (2006). Preparing instructional leaders for social justice. Journal of School Leadership, 16, 158–170. Menchaca, M. (1997). Early racist discourses: The roots of deficit thinking. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 13–40). Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Mezirow, J. (1991). Transformative dimensions of adult learning. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

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Mezirow, J. (2000). Learning to think like an adult: Core concepts of transformation theory. In J. Mezirow (Ed.), Learning in transformation: Critical perspectives on a theory in progress (pp. 3–33). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Mezirow, J. (2012). Learning to think like an adult: Core concepts of transformation theory. In E.W. Taylor, P. Cranton, & Associates (Eds.), The handbook of transformative learning: Theory, research, and practice (pp. 73–95). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Moreno, R. P., & Valencia, R.R. (2011). Chicano families and schools: Challenges for strengthening family-school relationships. In R.R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 197–210). New York, NY: Routledge. Olivos, E. M., Ochoa, A. M., & Jiménez-Castellanos, O. (Eds.). (2011). Bicultural parent involvement: Advocacy and empowerment. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Pearl, A. (1997). Cultural and accumulated environmental deficit models. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 132–159). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Pitzer, H. (2015). Urban teachers engaging in critical talk: Navigating deficit discourse and neoliberal logics. Journal of Educational Controversy, 9(1). Retrieved March 31, 2015 from http://cedar.wwu.edu/jec/vol9/iss1/8. Pollack, T. M. (2012a). Unpacking everyday “teacher talk” about students and families of color: Implications for teacher and school leader development. Urban Education, 48, 863–894. Pollack,T. M. (2012b).The miseducation of a beginning teacher: One educator’s critical reflections on the functions and power of deficit narratives. Multicultural Perspectives, 14, 93–98. Rawls, J. (1971). A theory of justice. London, England: Oxford University Press. Rector, R., & Richwine, J. (2013). The fiscal costs of unlawful immigrants and amnesty to the U.S. taxpayer (Special Report No. 133). Washington, DC: The Domestic Policy Studies Department, The Heritage Foundation. Retrieved May 8, 2013 from http://thf_media. s3.amazonaws.com/2013/pdf/sr133.pdf. Reyes, A. (2005). Reculturing principals and leaders for cultural and linguistic diversity. In K. Téllez & H.C. Wayman (Eds.), Preparing quality educators for English language learners: Research, policy, and practice (pp. 145–165). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Reyes, P., & Wagstaff, L. (2005). How does leadership promote successful teaching and learning for diverse students? In W. A. Firestone & C. Riehl (Eds.), A new agenda for research in educational leadership (pp. 101–118). New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Richwine, J. (2009). IQ and immigration policy. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, Retrieved May 8, 2013 from http://www.dailymail.co.uk/ news/article-2323057/Conservative-wonk-wrote-Harvard-dissertation-claimingHispanics-low-IQ-forced-resign.html. Rios-Aguílar, C., & Kiyama, J. M. (2012). Funds of knowledge: An approach to studying Latina(o) students’ transition to college. Journal of Latinos and Education, 11, 2–16. Rose, D. (1989). Patterns of American culture. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Rubie-Davis, C., Hattie, J., & Hamilton, R. (2006). Expecting the best for students: Teacher expectations and academic outcomes. British Journal of Educational Psychology, 76, 429–444. Shields, C. M. (2006). Creating spaces for value-based conversations:The role of school leaders in the 21st century. International Studies in Educational Administration, 34, 62–81. Shields, C. M., Bishop, R., & Mazawi, A. E. (2005). Pathologizing practices: The impact of deficit thinking in education. New York, NY: Peter Lang.

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Shultz, E. L., Neyhart, T. K., & Reck, U. M. (1996). Swimming against the tide: A study of prospective teachers’ attitudes regarding cultural diversity and urban teaching. The Western Journal of Black Studies, 20, 1–8. Simone, J. A. (2012). Addressing the marginalized student: The secondary principal’s role in eliminating deficit thinking. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Urbana, IL: The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Sirin, S. R. (2005). Socioeconomic status and academic achievement: A meta-analytic review of research. Review of Educational Research, 82, 436–476. Skrla, L., Erlandson, D. A., Reed, E. M., & Wilson, A. P. (2001). The emerging principalship. Laumont, NY: Eye on Education. Skrla, L., & Scheurich, J. J. (2004). Displacing deficit thinking in school district leadership. In L. Skrla & J. J. Scheurich, (Eds.), Educational equity and accountability: Paradigms, policies, and politics (pp. 109–132). New York, NY: RoutledgeFalmer. Skrla, L., Scheurich, J. J., García, J., & Nolly, G. (2004). Equity audits: A practical leadership tool for developing equitable and excellent schools. Educational Administration Quarterly, 40, 133–161. Solórzano, D. G., & Delgado Bernal, D. (2001). Examining transformational resistance through a critical race and LatCrit theory framework: Chicana and Chicano students in an urban context. Urban Education, 36, 308–342. Stannard, D. E. (1992). American holocaust: The conquest of the New World. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Starratt, R. (1991). Building an ethical school: A theory for practice in educational leadership. Educational Administration Quarterly, 27, 155–202. Surland, R. (2010). Student voices: Self-efficacy and graduating high school. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Wichita, KS: Wichita State University. Sutterby, J. A., Rubin, R., & Abrego, M. (2007). Amistades: The development of relationships between preservice teachers and Latino families. The School Community Journal, 17, 77–94. Swartz, E. (2003).Teaching white preservice teachers: Pedagogy for change. Urban Education, 38, 255–278. Talbert-Johnson, C. (2006). Preparing highly qualified teacher candidates for urban schools: The importance of dispositions. Education and Urban Society, 39, 147–160. Tenenbaum, H. R., & Ruck, M. D. (2007). Are teachers’ expectations different for racial minority than for European American students? A meta-analysis. Journal of Educational Psychology, 99, 253–273. Terrill, M. M., & Mark, D. L. H. (2000). Preservice teachers’ expectations for schools with children of color and second-language learners. Journal of Teacher Education, 51, 149–155. The Wallace Foundation. (2013). The school principal as leader: Guiding schools to better teaching and learning. New York, NY: Author. Retrieved February 27, 2014, from https:// www.wallacefoundation.org/knowledge-center/Documents/The-School-Principal-asLeader-Guiding-Schools-to-Better-Teaching-and-Learning-2nd-Ed.pdf. Todorov, T. (1999). The conquest of America: The question of the other. Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press. Truebridge, S. (2014). Resilience begins with beliefs: Building on student strengths for success in school. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. U.S. Government Accounting Office. (2018). K-12 education: Public high schools with more students in poverty and smaller schools provide fewer academic offerings to prepare for college (GAO-19–8). Washington, DC: Author.

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Ullucci, K., & Battey, D. (2011). Exposing color blindness/grounding color consciousness: Challenges for teacher education. Urban Education, 46, 1195–1225. Valencia, R. R. (1997a). Genetic pathology model of deficit thinking. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 41–112). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997b). The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (1997c). Conceptualizing the notion of deficit thinking. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 1–12). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (2005). The Mexican American struggle for equal educational opportunity in Mendez v.Westminister: Helping to pave the way for Brown v. Board of Education. Teachers College Record, 107, 389–423. Valencia, R. R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York, NY: New York University Press. Valencia, R. R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (2011). Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R.R. (2013). Jason Richwine’s dissertation, IQ and Immigration Policy: Neohereditarianism, pseudoscience, and deficit thinking. Teachers College Record. Retrieved November 1, 2013 from http://tcrecord ID Number:17134. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Aburto, S. (1991). The uses and abuses of educational testing: Chicanos as a case in point. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Research and policy issues for the 1990s (pp. 203–251). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R., & Black, M. S. (2002). “Mexican Americans don’t value education!”—On the basis of the myth, mythmaking, and debunking. Journal of Latinos in Education, 1, 81–103. Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on racial and ethnic minority psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Walker, K. L. (2011). Deficit thinking and the effective teacher. Education and Urban Society, 43, 576–597. Warren, M. R., Hong, S., Rubin, C. L., & Uy, P. S. (2009). Beyond the bake sale: A community-based relational approach to parent engagement in schools. Teachers College Record, 111, 2209–2254. Waters, T., Marzano, R. J., & McNulty, B. (2003). Balanced leadership:What 30 years of research tells us about the effect of leadership on student achievement. Denver, CO: Mid-Continent Research for Education and Learning. Retrieved February 27, 2014, from www.ctc. ca.gov/educator-prep/ASC/5031RR_BalancedLeadership.pdf. Watson, D. (2012). Norming suburban: How teachers talk about race without using race words. Urban Education, 47, 983–1004. Weems, M. T. (2013). Voices from the field: Stories of social justice leaders. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, San Marcos, TX: Texas State University.

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Weiner, E. (2003). Secretary Paulo Freire and the democratization of power: Toward a theory of transformative leadership. Educational Philosophy and Theory, 35, 89–106. White, K. R. (1982).The relation between socioeconomic status and academic achievement. Psychological Bulletin, 91, 461–481. Williams, J. K. (2008). Unspoken realities: White, female teachers discuss race, students, and achievement in the context of teaching in a majority Black elementary school. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Corvallis, Oregon: Oregon State University. Yosso, T. (2000). A critical race and LatCrit approach to media literacy: Chicana/o resistance to visual microaggressions. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Los Angeles, CA: University of California. Young, P. A. (2007). Teaching outside the box: Fostering racial and ethnic discourses in urban teacher education. In R. P. Solomon & D. Sekayi (Eds.), Urban teacher education and teaching: Innovative practices for diversity and social justice (pp. 109–128). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.

3 CANADA

In this chapter, I cover educational thought and practice of deficit thinking in Canada. In doing so, the following topics are discussed: (a) conquest and colonization of Canada; (b) ethnic demographic profile; (c) TAG; (d) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization of Canada Canada’s history, significantly so, is the history of the conquest and colonization of the Indigenous peoples.1 Beginning in the 15th century, British and French forces began the conquest of Canada (Lacchin, 2015). These Europeans, chiefly fur traders and explorers, pursued lands, natural resources, and other sources of wealth (MacDonald & Steenbeck, 2015). Over time, the colonizers Othered the Indigenous peoples in Canada through a deficit thinking lens, characterizing them as dysfunctional and pathological and referring to them as being “barbarians” and “savages” (e.g., Leacock, 1914; MacDonald & Steenbeck, 2015; Romanic, 2000). This historical demonizing and pathologizing of the Indigenous peoples of Canada laid the foundation of contemporary deficit thinking apropos the Native peoples of Canada, and subsequently toward some immigrant ethnic groups (primarily of color). Kempf (2006) sought to document a historiography of colonization in Canada. In doing so, he conducted a content analysis of history textbooks used in Ontario schools from 1866 to 2006. The focus was on how Aboriginal peoples were portrayed. An earlier textbook he examined was The Dawn of Canadian History: A Chronicle of Aboriginal Canada and the Coming of the White Man by Stephen Leacock (1914), who writes that the Canadian Indians had not even developed from savagery to that “stage half way to civilization called barbarism” (p. 27).

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Leacock continues by noting that some members of this “unhappy race” became exhibitions at county fairs in England “before a grinning crowd” (p. 27).2 Kempf states: “It is striking that that this sort of cultural venom was ever packaged as history” (p. 139). A contemporary textbook Kempf examined was Canada: Face of a Nation (Bolotta, 2000). Although the textbook has some useful information (e.g., websites of Aboriginal organizations), Kempf notes that there are no germane analyses of the larger context of oppression against Aboriginal peoples. Furthermore, Bolotta covers this Aboriginal history as being autonomous. Exacerbating the struggle for equality in postcolonial Canada is organized racism in the larger society by White supremacists (e.g., see Baergen, 2000; Duchesne, 2017; Kinsella, 1994; Satzewich & Liodakis, 2013). White supremacist groups such as Aryan Nations, Stormfront, White Aryan Resistance, Blood and Honour, Church of the Creator, and the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) spew their venomous diatribe against marginalized groups. The victims include First Nations peoples, Blacks, visible minorities, immigrants, Jews, Muslims, lesbians, and gays (Satzewich & Liodakis). There is a long history of White supremacists in Canada. The KKK was established in Alberta during the 1929−1933 period. Members of this hate group pursued anti-Catholic and anti-foreign agendas (Baergen). Contemporarily, each providence in Canada has White supremacy groups venting hate and actively recruiting members, primarily prison inmates and high school students. Along with rallies held by neo-Nazis and cross-burnings that have occurred regularly in every region of Canada beginning in the 1990s, there have been assaults against visible minorities and gays (Kinsella). One of the most vocal White nationalists in current Canada is Ricardo Duchesne, a professor at the University of New Brunswick. In his recent book, Canada in Decay: Mass Immigration, Diversity, and the Ethnocide of Euro-Canadians (2017), Duchesne notes that in 1971 the Canadian population was 96% European in origin. The current percentage of Canada’s population with a European ethnic origin has declined to less than 80%. Duchesne is founder of and major contributor to the Council of European Canadians. On its website, the mission statement reads: The rise of special interest groups from other countries and regions, and growing attacks on European concepts of law, liberty, economics and identity, now require a response. The Council of European Canadians is a group of public-minded individuals who believe the European heritage and character of Canada should be maintained and enhanced.3

Ethnic Demographic Profile Canada, with 13 provinces and territories,4 ranks number 2 of the top 10 countries in the world in landmass (as calculated in square kilometers).5 Yet, its population of 37,216,195 people in 20166 is relatively sparse for such a large country.

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As such, it is not surprising that over time Canada has welcomed immigrants, via their work ability, to assist in the economic development of the nation (Satzewich & Liodakis, 2013). Canada has a very diverse population of ethnic groups, consisting of native born-Whites, Indigenous peoples (also referred to as Aboriginal), and immigrants of many different ethnic origins. Regarding the latter, few other nations in the world allow such large admissions to immigrants on a per capita basis compared to Canada (Satzewich & Liodakis, 2013). Based on 2016 Census data, Canada’s foreign-born population comprised 22% of the total population, 60% of who hail from Asia (particularly China).7 According to 2016 data, approximately 73% of Canadians are White (Anderson, 2018). The Canadian census also counts a category of people referred to as “visible minorities” (Samuel & Basavarajappa, 2006). In the Employment Equity Act (EEA) (1995) the term visible minorities is defined as: “Persons, other than Aboriginal peoples, who are non-Caucasian in race or non-White in colour.”8 Visible minorities are one of four groups who are protected by the EEA to support agendas that promote equal opportunity and dismantle barriers to employment (Wooley, 2013). In 2016, the visible minority population numbered 7,674,585 (22.3% of the total population).9 A number of ethnic groups were classified as visible minorities (e.g., South Asian; Black; Latin American; Arab; Japanese). Visible minorities do include both the foreign-born people (i.e., immigrants) and those born in Canada. Visible minorities do indeed experience a number of employment and race related issues (Samuel & Basavarajappa). Based on older data, visible minorities were less probable to be employed all-year in comparison to all other workers, suffered from higher percentages of unemployment, had less earnings, were more likely to live in poverty, and were overrepresented in jobs that paid lower wages. Also, nearly 25% of visible minority workers reported that they had faced racial harassment or discrimination at their places of work. The Canadian government also disaggregates its population regarding the Aboriginal peoples (also referred to as Indigenous). Based on 2011 census data, the Aboriginal population numbered 1,400,685 (Statistics Canada, 2011), which was 4.7% of the total Canadian population. When the Aboriginal population is disaggregated, the largest group is First Nations peoples (851,560). First Nations, as a term, gained widespread currency in the early 1980s. Advocates for the appellation asserted that First Nations peoples had earned special rights given that they were the first occupants of Canada, residing there centuries before the arrival of the Europeans (Satzewich & Liodakis, 2013).10 The second largest group of Aboriginal peoples are the Métis (451,795). The term, which means “half caste” in French, has its origins in the 16th and 17th centuries when French and English fur traders had sexual unions with the Indigenous women. Currently, Métis is broadly viewed as “mixed populations” (Satzewich & Liodakis). The third group of Aboriginals, and the smallest in size, are the Innuit (59,445).

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When the Innuit did arrive in Canada, they stayed almost exclusively in and near the northern areas of the Arctic, taking advantage of the rich marine and land animals resources (Ryan, 1999). In later times the Innuit were referred to as “Eskimos,” a pejorative term, by Europeans (Satzewich & Liodakis). The Aboriginal people of Canada, similarly to the American Indians in the United States, experience a rash of issues. With a focus on First Nations peoples, there are a number of health, social, and economic concerns (later, I comment on educational issues). First Nations peoples have shorter life spans, than their Canadian peers. This is likely related to, for example, higher rates of tuberculosis, hypertension, diabetes, and arthritis. Infant mortality rates are higher, shortages of housing on reserves exist, and First Nations peoples have lower incomes and higher rates of employment (Satzezwich & Liodakis, 2013).

TAG Given its colonized history, current race relations, and inequalities (e.g., income and health care comparisons between the Aboriginal peoples and Whites), it is not surprising that TAG exists in Canada. Well over a half-century ago, research on educational attainment differences in Canada began in earnest. A chief pioneer was John Porter who produced his now classic book, The Vertical Mosaic: An Analysis of Social Class and Power in Canada (1965). Satzewich and Liodakis (2013) succinctly capture the essence of the famous metaphor, the vertical mosaic: Porter’s [1965] metaphor about Canadian society [implies] that it comprises many ethnic groups (mosaic) but that there is an ethnic hierarchy with the British and French at the top and all other groups at the bottom of the social, economic, and political structures. (p. 288) Although ethnicity is still an important predictor of educational attainment and other achievement indices in Canadian research studies and elsewhere, post-Porter investigations have found SES indices are stronger predictors (e.g., Ali & Grabb, 1998; Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, chapter 3). Furthermore, Valencia and Suzuki (chapter 4), based on their synthesis of germane literature, found that the intellectual home environment (e.g., mother reading to child; mother giving positive reinforcement to child) transcend both ethnicity and SES as predictors of achievement and intelligence test scores. In sum, the above research findings are not meant to suggest that ethnicity, as a predictor of cognitive and achievement test scores, is unimportant to include in research investigations. The study of ethnicity and SES in research have merit. As a case in point, Valencia (2015), in his review of TAG between White students and students of color in the United States, focused on low-SES students of color. To be sure, TAG exists in Canada. The negative consequences of TAG are quite familiar—for example, very limited upper mobility and a reduced quality

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of life for the marginalized. This is very unfortunate, given that Canada academically performs quite favorably compared to the top countries in the world. Parkin (2015) in his report covers international academic achievement comparisons, as well as intragroup comparisons in Canada. In brief, here are several highlights from his report: 1. Canada ranks number 1 of 20 countries in the world in educational attainment, that is 52.6% of adults (age 25−64 years) having a tertiary degree (college or university) compared to 19 other Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development countries.11 Regarding reading performance for students, based on Canadian 15-year olds who took the Program for International Student Assessment (PISA), 5 countries performed better than Canada (Shanghai-China; Hong Kong-China; Singapore; Japan; Korea). No country other than these East-Asian countries or economies performed better than Canada. Sixty-five countries and economies took the PISA.12 2. TAG exists between Aboriginal peoples and non-Aboriginal peoples. Based on 2011 Census data13 Parkin (2015) reports that 29% of Aboriginals had not finished high school—compared to 12% of non-Aboriginals.14 Only 10% of Aboriginals had earned a university degree—in comparison to 27% of non-Aboriginals.15 In some cases, TAG has widened. For example, regarding university degree attainment for adults aged 25−54 years, TAG was 12 percentage points in 1996, favoring non-Aboriginals. About 15 years later in 2011, the TAG had increased to 17 percentage points.16 3. Some intragroup comparisons are available for Aboriginal peoples. For instance, with respect to earning a university degree, the rate for the Métis was 12%, and 5% for both First Nations peoples and the Innuit.17

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice As is the situation for Canada, as well as some other countries I cover, I am unable to undertake—due to space limitations—exhaustive reviews of the deficit thinking literature. Therefore, the corpus of publications I do discuss are meant to be representative of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice. Here, I cover: (a) students deemed at risk; (b) teacher candidates and teachers; (c) administrators (d) parents; (e) higher education.

Students Deemed at Risk Much of the Canadian writings on students at risk for school failure is consonant with the at-risk discourse seen elsewhere in the literature, asserting that the term is based on deficit thinking (e.g., McMahon, 2007; Swadener & Lubeck, 1995;

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Valencia, 2010, chapter 4, 2015, chapter 2; Wotherspoon & Schissel, 2001). Citing a 1998 study,18 Wotherspoon and Schissel note that 30%−40% of Canadian children are predicted to be at risk for not finishing high school. Risks for school failure are primarily concentrated among Aboriginal students, visible minorities, the poor, and English learners (ELs). Wotherspoon and Schissel comment that educators, who are involved in interventions for students believed to at risk for academic or behavioral problems, tend to adopt a medical or pathological approach in their work. Students identified at risk are deemed to have internal defects (e.g., limited cognitive skills; poor motivation to achieve). Thus, the child needs to be fixed. Such deficit thinking asserts that parental discord, a culture of poverty, and poor parenting are at fault. Debunkers of this blame-the-victim perspective assert that deficit thinkers fail to examine how societal and schooling inequalities thwart the learning process for marginalized students (e.g., McMahon, 2007; Valencia, 2015). McMahon (2007) comments that a considerable amount of research and proposed strategies exist that focus on students who are at risk for school failure. Yet, she maintains, only a paucity of researchers include student voice in their investigations. As such, McMahon (2007) was prompted to explore the experiences of several urban low-SES students of color (deemed at risk) who felt marginalized in high school. Nonetheless, she reports that the student participants had a high value for academic achievement, and on the basis of their resilience, were admitted to universities in Ontario, which believed in their potential.19 In her study, McMahon (2007) focuses on the students’ experiences in high school. She reports that students believed their teachers were uncaring, a dominant theme in the students’ accounts. The author notes that such teacher behaviors were instrumental in perpetuating the at-risk label. McMahon (2007) comments that via the social dynamics of the self-fulling prophecy, the students internalized their at-riskness. In sum, the author underscores the importance of marginalized students having caring teachers who believe in the students’ capabilities, hold high expectations, promote meaningful curriculum, and work for leadership that has as its goal an emancipatory and democratic education. In their comprehensive study of the at-risk notion, Portelli, Shields, and Vibert (2007) gathered a considerable amount of data based on school and classroom observations. The authors gathered over 1,000 survey responses and conducted over 200 interviews with educators and students. Six different schools in Ontario, British Columbia, and Nova Scotia participated—one elementary and secondary school in each of the provinces. The schools varied in representations of ethnicity, SES, student transiency, rural/urban, and language backgrounds. For example, the elementary school in Nova Scotia was small (220 students), located in a semi-rural area, and enrolled mostly low-SES White students. By contrast, the secondary school (urban) in Ontario had an enrollment of 900 students, mostly low-SES backgrounds, and with a majority enrollment of Black and South American-descent students.

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For their theoretical framework, Portelli et al. (2007) presented four different conceptions of at risk: deficit thinking, liberal, official educational, and critical. By now, the reader should be quite familiar with the deficit thinking perspective. For the others, I briefly explicate. The liberal position, the authors note, has two key tenets: “a belief in the primacy of human rights and the centrality of freedom of choice” (p. 10). The liberal discourse has a tendency to romanticize the child. The official educational discourse of the at-risk concept is preoccupied with drawing from a list of at-risk indicators (e.g., coming from a low-SES background; being retained a grade; having poor achievement). This checklist approach is a form of deficit thinking, Portelli et al. note (also see Valencia, 2010, chapter 4). Regarding their results, Portelli et al. (2007) comment that they found a range of findings, some of which were negative exemplars and some were quite commendable. With respect to the former, a number of examples of deficit thinking emerged. In one school, the students who were identified by teachers as being at risk were called “bad kids” and “troublemakers” (p. 46). Some teachers assumed that low-SES families of color did not value education, a myth seen in an ample amount of research (e.g., Valencia, 2015, chapter 8; Valencia & Black, 2002). In one school, there were some educators who demonstrated fear toward Black Caribbean male students and Latino students (i.e., male). Regarding positive findings of what works well for students identified at risk, Portelli et al. (2007) report that a number of themes (N = 13) surfaced. Examples are: 1. Leadership that is flexible, inclusive, and proactive. 2. A strong commitment to a social justice agenda. 3. Encouragement of wider community involvement 4. Inculcation of an “ethic of care.” 5. An arts-infused curriculum. 6. Open and inviting places for students. A final noteworthy point with respect to the Portelli et al. (2007) study is that the authors offer an alternative discourse to three of the four previously mentioned conceptions of the at-risk notion (i.e., deficit; liberal; official educational). The authors’ competing concept is “critical discourses.” Although these discourses were not widespread in the schools that participated in the investigation, they appeared to be the most effective approaches in providing an emancipatory schooling experience for students deemed at risk. Critical discourses (e.g., CRT; critical pedagogy) are clearly anti-deficit thinking. They adamantly challenge those constructions of at risk that rest on blaming students (particularly low-SES students of color), and their parents, for school failure. Rather, critical discourses make a profound exogenous shift and assert that risk arises from structural inequalities in the larger society (e.g., stratified work force; see Beeghley, 2007), as

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well as in the schools (e.g., curriculum differentiation as seen in high school tracking; see Oakes, 2005; Valencia, 2015, chapter 7).20 Portelli et al. comment that critical discourses offer new ways of thinking about the schooling experience (e.g., an inclusive curriculum; democratic education). Through the attainment of teacher empowerment and student voice, critical discourses offer a “pedagogy of hope” (p. 15) for both stakeholders. Kanu (2007) sought to explore whether the integration of Aboriginal cultural knowledge and perspectives would lead to positive academic outcomes for students—that is, concerning academic achievement, class attendance, and school retention. Her study’s theoretical framework is based on the continuity hypothesis (Gay, 2000; Huffman, 2002; Ledlow, 1992), which maintains that marginalized students and students placed at risk will have higher academic outcomes when the students’ cultural knowledge and views are assiduously integrated into the classroom curriculum. It is assumed that via this curricular integration, students will be more engaged in the teaching/learning process, have increased self-esteem, and a higher level of achievement motivation. The continuity hypothesis asserts that the converse, discontinuity or mismatch, between the culture of the students and the culture promulgated in the school is a factor contributing to school failure. The continuity hypothesis is not without its distractors (e.g., Anyon, 2005; McConaghy, 2000; Ogbu, 1982; Rothstein, 2004; Valencia, 2015, chapter 2). A common thread running through these critiques is that the continuity hypothesis is somewhat insular by ignoring the big picture.21 That is, the continuity hypothesis is circumscribed when considered in view of the many educational aspects that create schooling inequalities for low-SES students of color, such as school segregation, poor teacher quality, school financing inequities, and curriculum differentiation, as well as societal inequalities of the “other gaps”—income, housing, and health (Valencia, 2015). The continuity hypothesis is fairly silent in discussing these schooling and societal structural factors that clearly play roles in thwarting the school success of low-SES students of color. For her design, Kanu (2007) utilized two Grade 9 social studies classes in an inner-city public high school located in a western Ontario community. The school was selected because of its mixture of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal students (mostly Anglo and Euro-Canadian); nearly 33% of the total school enrollment of 1,100 students were of Aboriginal heritage. One of the social studies classes was designated the “enrichment” class as the curriculum was infused with the integration of content, interaction patterns, and instructional methods germane to Aboriginal culture.22 The other social studies class was deemed the “regular” class (i.e., no culturally responsive curriculum). In all, 31 Aboriginal students (Sioux; Ojibway; Métis; Cree; Dene) participated—15 in the enriched class and 16 in the regular class. Both social studies teachers (Anglo-Canadian) had similar qualifications (B.A., major in social studies focusing on geography and history) and teaching experience (more than 15 years).

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Concerning the results of the study, Kanu (2007) reports that on the social studies tests and exams, the students enrolled in the enriched class performed considerably better than their peers in the regular class (e.g., scores on the tests/ exams/assignments; class attendance; school retention). Kanu (2007) concludes that notwithstanding the positive results of the curricular integration, culturally responsive curriculum alone cannot assure overall school success for Aboriginal students. Therefore, she asserts, macrostructural factors (e.g., why low-SES students need to work) have to be considered in helping to explain chronic absenteeism and school attrition, particularly among poor Aboriginal students. In sum, the continuity hypothesis should not be viewed as a panacea for increasing school success for Aboriginal students. As Kanu (2007) notes: “A holistic and comprehensive approach that also takes into account larger social, economic, and political variables affecting schooling may provide a more meaningful and lasting intervention” (p. 21). Vibert, Portelli, Shields, and LaRocque (2002), in their study of students at risk, sought to explore the differences and similarities in three elementary schools in different Canadian provinces. The authors’ objective was to see how the schools approached community, voice, and curriculum regarding the potential to enact central principles of a critical pedagogy (e.g., democratic education; critical reflection; enhancement of students and community voice). School number 1, Marco Polo Elementary, an inner-city school, is characterized as having a low-SES enrollment.23 During the 2 years of data collection, the enrollment fluctuated between 190 and 240 students, and was representative of 26 ethnic groups, with First Nations students comprising 40% of the total enrollment. The school’s decor reflected the culture of the First Nations peoples (e.g., art work; totem pole). There was also strong encouragement for parental involvement, and special programs (e.g., afterschool care; a food and clothing bank). Notwithstanding that the school had a welcome, inviting environment, Vibert et al. (2002) comment that the staff held deficit thinking views of the children and their families. The staff believed that “most students came from bleak and dysfunctional homes” (p. 96). As such, an inviting and safe school climate, designed to enhance the students’ self-esteem, was deliberately provided. The authors also state that they observed a “deficit model of instruction” (p. 96), that had a focus on students’ needs and which overlooked the strengths the students and families brought with them. In sum, the school’s agenda was not designed to foster academic success, but rather to do things for students and their families and not with them. School number 2, Princess Grace Elementary, is located in an uppermiddle class community. The student enrollment, which was stable at about 310 students, is comprised of pupils from nearly all-White ethnic backgrounds. Parents demonstrated strong support for the schools and were actively involved,

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for example, from fundraising to volunteering activities. Teachers, as well as parents, held high expectations for the students, and there was an emphasis on academic work. Teachers and administrators focused on active learning, selfmotivation, and student choice. There was a prominent view that students should become independent learners. Vibert et al. (2002) raise a criticism that although Princess Grace had an engaging curriculum, questions arise about the absence of a critical pedagogy. For example, on a project dealing with Nova Scotia there was no mention of the history of exploitation that led to violence against the Indigenous fisheries. The authors conclude: “The curriculum of individual growth risks defaulting on its claim to educational change, amounting to conservatism by omission” (p. 102). School number 3, Emily Carr Elementary, is located in one of the poorest areas of the community. Many of the children and families of the school have experienced the accompanying ills of poverty. During the span of the study, the school’s enrollment averaged about 350 students.24 The school offers a number of special programs (e.g., “Family Night;” reading buddies; breakfast program). The parent-teacher relationship was quite strong, and Emily Carr Elementary had a deep commitment to view the students and the community as rich resources. The school curriculum can be characterized as being explicitly fostering a critical pedagogy. This pedagogy of hope infused the school with teachers and administrators regularly talking about democratic and transformative education. This critical pedagogy engaged students with ideas that the school belonged to them and their parents. A social justice curriculum was entrenched as there were daily questions and issues raised germane to the school and the community. Critical thinking was strongly encouraged about issues facing the larger society, and some of these were clearly directed to learning about anti-deficit thinking and learning how to debunk it (e.g., discussions of how and why some people believe those living in poverty are the makers of their own problems). In their conclusion, Vibert et al. (2002) underscore that their findings speak loudly to the interdependency of community, voice, and curriculum. Together, they had considerable sway in shaping ideologies, ethos, policies, and practices in the schools. The curriculum, which was a central component of the school, was quite telling in setting the school climate. The authors summarize the three conceptions of the curriculum as such: curriculum as fixed (Marco Polo Elementary), curriculum as experience (Princess Grace Elementary), and curriculum as critical practice (Emily Carr Elementary). In regards to the potential for critical education, Vibert et al. note that Marco Polo had no likely possibility because of entrenched deficit thinking. Princess Grace also had no potential due to its preoccupation of meeting the individual interests of students, which led to an absence of critical reflection. Emily Carr, given its ethos of caring, connectedness to life in the world, open discussions of serious, controversial, and

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sensitive issues, and strong leadership had “the characteristics of and the necessary ground for the possibilities of a democratic and critical education” (p. 113).

Teacher Candidates and Teachers The typical situation in multiethnic countries is that the public school teaching staff predominantly reflects the ethnic makeup of the majority population (e.g., for U.S. data, see “Teacher Education” section in chapter 2, present volume). This underrepresentation of teachers of color is also a reality in Canada. For example, Aboriginal teachers are few in numbers in the public schools (Cherubini, Hodson, Manley-Casimir, & Muir, 2010). The implications of this dramatic underrepresentation of Indigenous teachers are quite serious. First, many White teachers were not trained in their teacher education programs to address the uniqueness of Aboriginal epistemologies and linguistic traditions (Cherubini et al.). Furthermore, Ghosh (2002; cited in Cherubini et al.) comments that teaching styles in Canadian schools typically reflect linear-thinking, passive learning, and task-oriented units that are discrete in nature, rather than focusing on the whole. Hampton and Roy (2002; cited in Cherubini et al.) point out that cooperative and holistic teaching models, which are more compatible with Aboriginal epistemologies, are sparsely incorporated in the curriculum and eventually negatively affect the achievement of these students. A second inauspicious implication about having a disproportionate White teaching force in Canada, which is raised by Solomon, Portelli, Daniel, and Campbell (2005), has to do with how White teacher candidates construct and perceive Whiteness, race, and White privilege. To explore this discourse, the authors undertook a qualitative investigation in which 200 teacher candidates participated. They were enrolled in a 9-month post-B.A. teacher education program at two urban universities in Ontario. Of the total participants, 140 (70%) were mainly of European descent; 60 (30%) were students of color (African descent; Latino/Latina; Southeast-Asian; South-Asian; First Nations).25 One part of the design utilized by Solomon et al. called for the participants to read a popular and well known article by Peggy McIntosh (1990), “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.”26 The article focuses on the many ways in which White privilege is experienced and appears invisible to Whites. Macintosh lists 26 taken-for-granted privileges (e.g., having a residential choice; not having to over worry about one’s financial situation; not having the burden of serving as a representative of the “White race”). After reading the McIntosh article, the participants submitted a one-page response based on a quote they viewed as reflective of the reading as a whole, and to provide their understanding and reactions to that theme. Solomon et al. (2005), using a discourse analysis, examined the participants’ responses for ideas, beliefs, values, and world views (ideologies). The authors

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identified three principal response themes: (a) ideological incongruence; (b) liberalist notions of individualism and meritocracy; (c) negation of White capital. Ideological incongruence, a form of cognitive dissonance, refers to a dilemma when the participants’ ideological sets are incompatible. The authors give the example where “An individual may in theory support the ideals of employment equity, however they may be unwilling to see it implemented” (p. 153). The basis for this conflict, Solomon et al. comment, is likely couched in the notion of “reverse discrimination” where a White individual believes an undeserving and unqualified person of color is taking a job away from a White person. Liberalist notions of individualism and meritocracy, the second theme the authors’ discourse analysis identified, have to do with the belief that working hard is the key to social and economic upper mobility. As a White female participant wrote: “I believe all my accomplishments have come through hard work as opposed to being privileged” (p. 160). The problem with this belief is that it ignores the larger historical context of the social relationships in colonized countries that have shaped racial and class stratification (e.g., slavery; segregated, inferior schooling of low-SES students of color; discrimination in the work force; discrimination in the banking industry) (Valencia, 2015, chapter 3 and 4). As such, meritocracy is a myth (e.g., see McNamee & Miller, 2004). 27 In sum, Solomon et al. (2005) note that some of the participants’ responses underscore three prevalent attitudes about individualism and meritocracy—ignoring the effects of racism, emphasis on the individual, and the continuing deficit thinking perceptions in which families of color are pathologized. Regarding the third theme, negating White capital, this has to do with how the participants attempted to address the notion of Whiteness. Solomon et al. (2005) found that some of the participants tried to deny that White privilege and its accompanying capital and material benefits even existed. The authors note that there was a range of emotional replies to the McIntosh (1990) article— spanning form blatant anger and aggression toward McIntosh and people of color, in general, as well as a sense of guilt. Some of these responses clearly demonstrated a belief that people of color are the privileged ones, coming at the expense of Whites. Solomon et al. (2005) conclude that their study has important implications for teacher education in a racially diverse society. The preparation of future White teachers to educate diverse student groups and to address issues of racial discrimination should be primary goals in any teacher education program. To tackle these dual challenges, the authors offer a number of suggestions, such as the following: First, there needs to be intellectual space provided so teacher candidates can have opportunities to address their concerns and questions. Second, the teacher candidates need to be prepared for the wide range of emotions that they are likely to experience. Third, course work and practica should have concrete

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strategies that include anti-discriminatory measures. Finally, the course work and field work the teacher candidates take need to be designed so candidates can better understand their own racial identity formation. In response to the reality that Canadian teachers are unprepared to address Aboriginal epistemologies in their teaching, Cherubini et al. (2010) discuss their efforts at Brock University in Ontario which are intended to increase the number of Aboriginal teachers. This goal is based on the assumption that Aboriginal teachers and students are more likely to have a shared identity, and such ethnic compatibility will make teaching and learning a more positive cultural, affective, and cognitive experience for both teacher and student.28 The need to recruit Aboriginal teacher candidates is particularly pressing because the number of Aboriginal students in Ontario are increasing at unprecedented rates, due to high birth rates (Statistics Canada, 2003; cited in Cherubini et al.). The fact that non-Aboriginal teachers are poorly prepared to teach Aboriginal students should not be viewed as being their fault. The authors point out that few Ontario university teacher education programs require the completion of a course on Aboriginal education. Given that Aboriginal learners’ needs are not included in the curricular context for teacher candidates, such knowledge is not part of the future teachers’ teaching repertoire. Cherubini et al. (2010) comment that for over 10 years, Brock University has taken important steps in meeting the challenge of improving education for Aboriginal students. For example, the university has made an agreement with the Northern Nishnawbe Education Council to recruit and train 100 new Nishnawbe primary/junior high school teacher candidates and to upgrade another 100 existing teachers via the new Bachelor of Education program, which focuses on Aboriginal education. The program is offered via distance education. Upon graduation from the Ontario College of Teachers, the future teachers are qualified to teach both on and off the reserve. The authors conclude by stating that the critical nature of Aboriginal education demands that other Ontario universities press forward on the challenge by mandating Aboriginal education course for all teacher candidates, or at least offer elective courses. The study by Lewthwaite, Owen, Doiron, McMillan, and Renaud (2013) is of particular interest because it employs the centrality of experiential knowledge, one of the five tenets of CRT (see Introduction, present volume). The authors interviewed 52 First Nations community members residing in the Yukon Territory in Canada. The participants ranged in age from 15- to 82-years old and included recent school leavers, parents, grandparents, and teachers. The authors’ goal was for the participants to share their stories regarding teaching and learning, with the purpose of aiding the researchers in their development of a critical pedagogy teachers could use to improve teaching for Aboriginal students. Lewthwaite et al. report that based on their analysis of the participants’ stories, eight themes were identified.29 I only discuss

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one of the them—[teacher] beliefs about students and their communities—as it is directly aligned with the focus of the present volume—deficit thinking. A recent graduate commented: When I began to get lower grades it was like this was expected. I don’t remember anyone really challenging me [at school] to do better. I still wonder if they just expected I would eventually begin to not do good at school [because I was First Nations]. (p. 111) Also on the matter of regarding theme one, which reflects deficit thinking, the authors state that in several stories the participants believed that their teachers perceived them as “lesser” or “not capable as [non-native learners]” (p. 112).

Administrators Solomon (2002) sought to study the roles of Canadian school principals in addressing racism, as well as how they conceive and implement antiracism practices. He echoes the extant literature on school leadership that finds principals, given their administrative power, are in strong positions for influencing the curriculum in their respective schools. The author’s participants were 10 administrators (8 principals; 2 vice principals; 7 male and 3 female) who worked in elementary (n = 5) and secondary (n = 5) schools. To qualify for inclusion in the investigation, the participants had to have been working in schools in which the respective boards of education had developed multicultural education and antiracism education curriculum. The 10 schools were located in 5 urban centers (e.g., Manitoba; Nova Scotia; Ontario). The schools were quite diverse in ethnic enrollments (e.g., Caribbean and Asian; Black; Euro-Canadian; Aboriginal). Finally, the 10 administrators were White, and the teaching staffs they supervised were 93% White. For data collection, Solomon (2002) administered a questionnaire and a follow-up interview, which was transcribed. He reports that four themes emerged from the questionnaires and interviews: (a) acknowledgment of racism; (b) principals’ conceptualizations of antiracism; (c) antiracism practices within schools; (d) micropolitical obstacles to antiracism. I briefly summarize each theme. In regard to acknowledgement of racism, an elementary school principal commented: “I think that in every school, there’s racism because our kids are a reflection of society and society is very racist. So if society is racist, our kids are too” (p. 182). A secondary school principal noted that an assimilationist attitude was prevalent. “[A] white, Eurocentrist [belief exists]… So it’s this assimilationist group that has got this backlash going against antiracism. So we’ve got them here [in this school] too” (p. 182).

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With respect to the theme of principals’ conceptualizations of antiracism, Solomon (2002) reports that many participants said they use multiculturalism as a beginning point in their conceptualization of antiracism. Solomon notes that the various narratives demonstrated a circumscribed or truncated understanding of antiracism. The author points out that the participants expected antiracism pedagogy to be led by knowledge that corrected for biases, commissions, and omissions regarding Canadian history—rather than on interrogations that focused on the structural bases of racism. Solomon assumes that such a shallow view of the nature of antiracism likely stems from the participants not receiving a comprehensive exposure to antiracism theory and practice during their teacher candidate training. Concerning theme three, antiracism practices within schools, Solomon (2002) reports that participants described practices that fell into two categories: (a) specif ic form of student behavior training and the development of interactive skills; (b) inclusive curricula. The f irst practice focused on harmony, peace, conf lict avoidance, and cooperation. Solomon criticizes the student behavior approach because it does not closely investigate the source of racist attitudes. He comments: “Emphasis was placed on managing student behavior instead of interrogating and changing racist attitudes that gave rise to such behavior” (p. 187). The second approach, inclusive curricula, zeroed in on, for example, the contributions of people of color to science. 30 In regard to theme four, micropolitical obstacles to antiracism, Solomon (2002) reports that the participants believed that several interest groups— students, parents, and teachers—exerted significant influence on maintaining a school structure that was racially inequitable. Some teachers resisted antiracism workshops, fearing that the principal’s leadership in implementing a critical emancipatory antiracism initiative might give rise to conflict and tension. Furthermore, the views of some parents reflected deficit thinking. For example, in Manitoba, Aboriginal peoples were blamed for causing their own marginalization. In British Columbia, Asians were deemed scapegoats for the area’s economic instability. Solomon (2002) concludes by offering a number of suggestions for the principals that should prove useful in overcoming obstacles to antiracism leadership. I briefly mention several of them. 1. Principals need to develop the conceptual knowledge to mount comprehensive antiracism initiatives. 2. Principals need to get their teachers to understand that the foundation for an antiracism agenda lay in a moral and ethical imperative. 3. Principals need to construct affiliations and coalitions with other groups and agencies that are equity conscious.

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Parents The main title of the article by Guo (2011) is “Beyond Deficit Paradigms.” The study focuses on how immigrant parents, via informal learning, strive to support their children’s education. Gou (2011) states that the literature on immigrant parents vis-á-vis the schools is, for the most part, based on the deficit thinking model. For example, some teachers interpret immigrant parents’ lack of involvement in their children’s education through a deficit thinking lens, believing that they do not value education (e.g., Guo, 2006)—which is a myth (e.g., Valencia & Black, 2002). Also, some teachers view immigrant parents’ inability or limited ability to speak English as a major liability by exacerbating their problems communicating with the schools (e.g., Gibson, 2000; cited in Guo, 2006). As such, immigrant parents are blamed by teachers for their limited-English skills, rather than focusing on how schools can support and accommodate these parents’ needs for second language development (e.g., offer ESL classes). In regard to her interest how immigrant parents seek knowledge about parental involvement in order to support their children’s education, Guo (2011) focuses on informal learning. Citing Livingstone (1999), Guo (2011) states: “Informal learning refers to any activity involving the pursuit of understanding, knowledge, or skill outside the curricula of normal and non-formal educational institutions” (p. 44). Guo (2011) recruited 38 immigrant parents residing in Calgary, Alberta. The participants were from 15 different countries (e.g., China; Vietnam; Philippines; Pakistan; Algeria; Colombia). Languages spoken (N = 23) were quite diverse, and the participants were well educated (e.g., 25 had B.A. degrees; 12 had master’s degrees). Although the participants had prestigious occupations in their home countries (e.g., university instructor; teacher; engineer), in Canada most of them faced downward mobility (e.g., cashier; production worker; unemployed). For data collection, Guo (2011) administered to each participant a semistructured interview and several open-ended questions. Special care was taken in the interview to inquire how participants’ knowledge of education in Canada was obtained, constructed, and mobilized. The author applied an inductive analysis strategy to examine the interview data. Guo (2011) reports that the findings showed the participants acquired, constructed, and mobilized their knowledge about parental involvement in five ways via informal learning. (1) Learning school expectations by interacting with and observing other parents; (2) self-teaching curricula by using the Internet; (3) passing on first-language knowledge by informal learning; (4) instilling hybridity by informal teaching; and (5) advocacy and capacity building for immigrant students by using their parents’ knowledge. (p. 46)

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Due to space limitations, I briefly discuss two of the five aspects. In regards to theme one, many of the participants revealed that they were not aware that Canadian schools hold expectations of parents to become involved in their children’s schooling. Such parents, however, did become aware of these expectations by talking to other parents (e.g., who served as volunteers) or, for example, observing other parents in their involvement activities. With respect to theme two, some parents reported that they found it difficult to support their children because, for example, there was no class textbook. Thus, parents did not know what their children were learning. Exacerbating this problem was some parents revealed that when they sought to have communication with the teachers, they were turned away. Thus, some parents took advantage of the Internet for assistance. A case in point is one Chinese parent who stated: Last month, my daughter had to write a report about space. She had no idea what the nine planets are, especially in English. She told me what they did in class was to look at pictures. I Googled the curriculum in her grade and found out what they need to know about space in Grade 6. (p. 48) Guo (2011) concludes by noting that schools need to be more assertive in recognizing the full range of values, norms, and cultural knowledge immigrant parents have at their disposal. Also, educators must refrain from focusing on what immigrant parents putatively lack; rather, emphasis should be placed on identifying the strengths and potential of these parents and their children.

Higher Education In his study, Oloo (2005) sought to examine Aboriginal students’ views on what they believed best facilitated their collegiate “success.” The investigation took place at Simon Fraser University (SFU) at Burnaby, British Colombia. Oloo’s purpose in undertaking his study was to identify those experiences deemed successful by Aboriginal students so institutions of higher education could take them under consideration when developing programs that have the potential to promote success for future Aboriginal students. Oloo’s investigation was designed so student voice could be the focal point in the personal stories of success and can serve as powerful, first-hand accounts of students’ experiences. This investigation has considerable practical merit given the very serious underrepresentation of Aboriginal students in Canadian colleges and universities. The participants in Oloo’s (2005) study included 20 students who selfidentified as Aboriginal (about 2% of the SFU enrollment of approximately 20,000). Of the 20 participants, 5 (25%) were male and 15 (75%) were female; 4 (20%) attended high school on-reserve and 16 (80%) off-reserve. The average age of the participants was 24 years (21−34 range). Oloo also utilized 4 faculty

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members as participants (were 3 Aboriginal; was 1 White). The student participants provided the names of the faculty participants; they were selected because they had successful working relationships with the students. Finally, non-academic staff members from the First Nations Student Centre served as participants. For data collection, Oloo administered open-ended interviews. The student participants were asked to identify successful incidents (as well as barriers) in promoting their growth. Faculty participants were asked to discuss the ways they succeeded in the facilitation of student success. Staff participants were asked to describe any problems the students reported and to note any measures used to counter them. Oloo (2005) reports that four major themes emerged from the interviews: (a) student-instructor relationship; (b) ability to understand and be familiar with Aboriginal ways; (c) inclusion of Aboriginal content in the curriculum; (d) the use of teaching methods that recognize Aboriginal learning styles. I briefly discuss three of the themes. In regards to theme one, interviews revealed that when students have steady and significant contact with their professors, inside and outside the classroom, outcomes improve. One student participant wrote: “It helps when my teachers respect me for who I am. It is only after this that me and the professor will be able to have a meaningful working relationship” (p. 26). In respect to theme two, professors who demonstrated an understanding of their students and Aboriginal ways did indeed facilitate success among their students. Oloo (2005), however, did find some accounts of deficit thinking. One student recalled: “In my class presentation, I brought in a circle. The professor made sarcastic remarks, ‘Oh, are we going to hold hands?…’Are you done with the circle?’ I felt that my culture is not honored.” (p. 27). Another student commented: “Sometimes I feel like there is hidden racism from the way other students talk about us. They think that we Natives get everything from the government for free, and that we do not work hard. It is simply not right!” (p. 27). Still yet, another student frustratingly stated: “Folks just looking at us funny, as if we Natives don’t being here. At times, I wonder if I hate myself for being a Native. I’m just not sure, and this bothers me” (p. 28). On the subject of theme three, Oloo (2005) reports that the interview results indicated that curricular inclusion of Aboriginal content tended to facilitate success for students. One student commented: “When it comes to Native issues, that’s when I talk in class” (p. 30). Another student remarked: “Both Aboriginal students from on-reserve and off-reserve benefit from Native courses [offered at SFU]” (p. 30). Summarizing some of the germane literature he reviewed, Oloo states that people of all ages need to have multicultural curricular infusion to assist them in comprehending the basic principles of their own culture and others’ cultures. In conclusion, the study by Oloo (2005) makes a strong contribution to the literature. The interview results, particularly from the student participants, indicate that they are able to identify a number of ways that can help promote their

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success at the collegiate level. Notwithstanding the positive outcomes, Oloo also found incidences of deficit thinking that the students were forced to endure. Oloo also comments that many of the students expressed their desire for nonAboriginals at SFU to work toward a fuller and better understanding of the history of Aboriginal peoples. This would include the many struggles they faced, for example, racial prejudice and discrimination, and oppressive institutional policies and practices, such as the forced placement of Aboriginal children in residential schools. Such an approach of better understanding of Aboriginal history would lead to an improved, balanced appreciation of the many contributions of Aboriginal peoples to North America and the world.

Conclusion Here, I digress from my regular format and offer a chapter conclusion. I thought it would be fitting to share with the reader a study that truly captures the twin goals of the present volume: (a) the debunking of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice; (b) the identification of workable strategies that can be used to help promote school success for marginalized students. I have selected Manu Sharma’s (2009) master’s thesis to discuss. Her thesis, Inner City Students: Stamped, Labeled, and Shipped Out! Deficit Thinking and Democracy in an Age of Neoliberalism, is an extraordinary fine treatment of deficit thinking—one of the best I have read. Sharma, an Indian-Canadian, begins her study by recalling an incident involving deficit thinking when she was 10-years old. It was on a crisp fall day after school when I decided that I would try out for my elementary school’s basketball team. I came excited and ready to play my very best, until a sideline remark came from my gym teacher. Making no eye contact, having no intonation in her voice, barely noticing me, she briefly said; ‘Your people won’t allow you to be on a school team. Why don’t you go just go home and learn how to cook some samosas as that will be useful for you in the future and bring me some tomorrow.’ I could not believe what I had heard. I felt a surge of strong emotions come through me, yet simultaneously my mind was confused and I felt the world stop. I felt my heart tremble, my eyes water, and my hands lose grip of my favorite basketball. I came home and went straight to my room that I shared with my sister changed my clothes and went straight to bed by 4 pm. (pp. 1-2) Sharma continues by commenting that now, as an adult, she has a fuller understanding that her gym teacher’s remarks were based on ignorance of Indian culture, stereotyping, and racial discrimination. Sharma states, with keen insight: “The underlying problem was not my identity but it was her deficit thinking toward my identity” (p. 2).

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Sharma (2009) begins her analysis by providing a comprehensive overview of three different frameworks that produce, sustain, and frequently justify deficit thinking. She refers to these frameworks as: pseudoscientific, sociological, and socioeconomic. Some researchers, she notes, that have analyzed and critiqued the pseudoscientific framework are, for example: Shields, Bishop, and Mazawi (2005), Trent, Artiles, and Englert (1998), and Valencia (1997). Regarding the sociological framework, Sharma reviews the work of Anyon (1980) and Valenzuela (1999). With respect to the socioeconomic framework, Sharma discusses, for example, the works of Books (2004). Following her discussion of the three frameworks of deficit thinking, Sharma (2009) examines overlapping ethical issues that arise from the frameworks. Based on her teaching experiences in inner-city schools, Sharma discusses four ethical implications. These narratives deal with: (a) labeling; (b) drilling/rote learning; (c) standardized testing; (d) student disengagement. I cover the first two. Sharma notes that resultant of neoliberal influences, some educators believe that providing labels to students is necessary because the process helps to meet the needs of each student in an organized and effective fashion. Citing Portelli et al. (2007), she notes that labeling is prevalently applied to marginalized and oppressed low-SES students of color. Examples of such student labels are: “inner-city;” “at-risk:” “behavioral problem;” “special education.” Often, neoliberalism presents these labels in a binary fashion, for example, “at-risk” student in contrast to the “regular” or “average” student—typically referring to a student who is White, middle SES, and English speaking. Sharma concludes that these incorrect labels are frequently rooted in deficit thinking assumptions that are social and cultural constructions. Drilling/rote learning, the second ethical implication raised by Sharma (2009), is commonly seen in inner-city schools. Rote learning involves the teacher passing out worksheets to students, or the practice of reading out loud some text. Some inner-city school teachers, primarily inexperienced ones, report they are “burnt out” due to alleged behavioral problems of students. To confront this issue, some teachers resort to disseminating worksheets with the objective that such seat work will keep students busy and quiet while they work independently. Sharma comments, based on her teaching experiences, that she has noticed this rote learning can have the opposite effect from what teachers anticipate. She recalls an incident when she was a seventh-grade student teacher. Her master teacher passed out worksheets to the students, and after receiving them, within 5 minutes the pupils became quite loud. The master teacher’s motivation to use worksheets was seeped in deficit thinking. She would frequently tell Sharma: “These students have no real future lined up for them, and so teaching them was a waste of time” (p. 64). Sharma also recalled that her master teacher believed that because the pupils came from “broken homes” (meaning they had “unfit” parents; they lived in poverty) they had a very small chance to graduate from

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high school. Sharma also remembered the deficit thinking lounge talk when teachers commented that rote learning was essential given the students’ bleak future. That is, the students need rote learning because it would provide the prerequisite skills for a working-class, blue collar job. Sharma (2009) follows her discussion of ethical implications arising from the three deficit thinking frameworks by providing a short account of the historical and political origins of colonialism in regard to contemporary schooling practices. Citing Anyon (1980), Sharma states that some scholars perceive schooling from an economic perspective that has its roots in neoliberal/capitalistic thought and values. “School success” is measured by the government in several ways: (a) how successful a predetermined curriculum is delivered to students; (b) the outcomes of standardized testing; (c) how well students adapt and embrace “school culture.” Given these top-down measures of success, Sharma asserts that the possibility of a democratic education is quite limited. Regarding colonialism, Sharma (2009), drawing from Dei and Kempf (2006), discusses two facets: colonialism and microlevel effects. Concerning the first effects, Dei (2006) states: “Colonialism is not dead” (p. 2). He continues by noting that colonialism and re-colonializing projects get expressed in schools in a variety of ways. For example, manifestations are seen in the different ways curricular knowledge becomes produced, how some students’ identities get validated while some students’ identities do not, how power is produced in terms of dominant-subordinate relationships between Whites and people of color, and how language becomes normalized as to “common sense,” “respect,” and “success” and how such language eventually shapes the school culture. The second aspect, colonialism and microlevel effects, has do to with how students are directly impacted via daily classroom practices. Sharma writes that colonialism has a greed that is insatiable, imposing itself upon the subordinates. Elaborating on this, Kempf (2006) maintains: The error we must avoid in the telling of and teaching of history is thus not subjectivity, but the denial thereof. To claim that any perspective is complete and/or neutral is erroneous. To claim that history is told or taught without specific objectives (conscious or unconscious) is inaccurate. We must then acknowledge the purpose and perspective of our teaching and telling of history—we must identify the subjectivities at play in the narratives we convey, lest we will fall prey to the Eurocentric claim of objectivity and its corresponding mask of universality. (p. 131) In her concluding chapter, Sharma (2009) offers her vision of a democratic education.31 Here, she moves through and beyond the dominant deficit thinking paradigm in education and discusses how the problems created by deficit thinking practices and anti-democratic realities can be confronted. In her framework,

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Sharma covers the philosophical and practical stances of her vision for transformation. The philosophical aspect of her framework focuses on critical thinking and participatory democracy. Based on germane literature, Sharma conceptualizes critical thinking as requiring specific academic skills (e.g., reasoning; analyzing; problematizing). Also, and importantly, she underscores that critical thinking needs to be followed by critical actions and continuous critical inquiry. Once critical thinking is assiduously pursued, the educator should be at the point where they have developed a critical filter that can be used to expose and interrogate deficit thinking. Sharma continues by noting that a coalition of critical educators needs to build alliances in order to develop a democratic education. A major objective of these critical educators is to identify anti-colonial discourse to interrogate the assumptions of Eurocentric culture in the schools regarding concealed norms and values that perpetuate and maintain anti-democratic education (El-haj, 2006). With respect to the practical stance, the second prong of Sharma’s (2009) vision of democratic education, she focuses on agency and accountability. Sharma remarks that although critical thinking is important, we must go beyond the recognition, analysis, and discussion phase of addressing the deep colonial roots of deficit thinking practices in schools” (p. 122). What is needed, she maintains, is that educators—individually and collectively—have to develop voice so they can become active agents of change. Furthermore, the voice of students needs to be developed so they can become critical citizens; this is essential for the building of a critically democratic society. Sharma further comments on the importance of voice and agency. She quotes Dei (2006): Agency emerges from the power of knowing and knowledge, and it’s this that gives meaning to social and political action…. Through the power and politics of resistance, the colonized are able to understand their social reality and work to change their condition. (p. 15)

Notes 1 LaRocque, E. Colonization and racism…in Canada. Retrieved February 28, 2019 from https://plus.google.com/109544616953455485165/posts/Yh3Bu2Tzogs. 2 These several quotes from Leacock (1914) are presented in Kempf (2006, p. 139). 3 Council of European Canadians. Mission statement. Retrieved October 28, 2017 from www.eurocanadian.ca/. 4 Demographics of Canada: Wikipedia. Retrieved October 21, 2017 from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demographics_of_Canada. 5 Top 10 largest countries by area—Jagran Josh. Retrieved October 24, 2017 from www. jagranjosh.com/general-knowledge/top-10-largest-countries-by-area-1303712111-1. Russia ranks number 1 as the largest country; the United States of America ranks number 3. 6 Canada Population, 2019 (demographics, maps, graphs). Retrieved October 21, 2017 from worldpopulationreview.com/countries/canada-population/.

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7 Ibid. 8 Not all scholars accept the term visible minorities. For example, Wooley (2013) asserts that the appellation is racist in that it assumes Whites become the standard against which anyone else is viewed as visibly different. In this sense, the term visible minorities represents deficit thinking. Another criticism Wooley raises is that the target populations of the EEA should be more inclusive. She notes, for example, that Canadians who live in rural and remote areas have lower educational attainment levels than the average urban visible minority person whose parents are immigrants. Hence rural Canadians have lesser access to higher paying jobs due, in part, to low levels of education. 9 Quick take: Visible minorities in Canada–Catalyst. Retrieved April 20, 2019 from https://www.catalyst.org/research/people-of-colour-in-canada/. 10 First Nations peoples are also referred to as “status Indians,” meaning that they have been recognized as Indigenous by the government (Satzewich & Liodakis, 2013, p. 285). 11 Countries ranked 2, 3, 4, and 5, respectively, with their tertiary degree rates are Japan (46.6%), Israel (46.4%), United States (43.1%), and Korea (41.7%) (Parkin, 2015, p. 4, Table 1). 12 Ibid. at p. 6, Table 2. 13 Statistics Canada. (2011). 14 Ibid. at note 11, p. 18. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. at p. 19, chart 5. 17 Ibid. at p. 18. 18 Canadian Parks and Recreation Association (1998). 19 McMahon (2007) is part of her larger study (McMahon, 2004). 20 This perspective of structural inequality is sometimes referred to as the “systemic inequality model” (Valencia, 2015, chapter 2). 21 This discussion of criticism about the continuity hypothesis builds on, with revisions, Valencia (2015, p. 59). 22 The basis for the curricular integration is from Kanu (2002) who, via interviews with Ojibway, Métis, and Cree high school students, identified nine cultural aspects that appeared to positively impact the students’ learning (e.g., observational learning; storytelling; scaffolding; infusion of content germane to Aboriginals). 23 Vibert et al. (2002) do not indicate whether the school names are true or pseudonyms. 24 Vibert et al. (2002) do not provide the ethnic backgrounds of the students. 25 The authors note that the results for the students of color were analyzed in a later article. 26 McIntosh (1990) was a required reading for a Social Foundations of Education course in which all participants enrolled. Furthermore, the McIntosh article was read as one part of a larger project that included, for example, an introductory lecture, student-led seminars, and discussions of case studies involving race and oppression. 27 For a brief discussion of the myth of meritocracy, see Valencia (2015, pp. 242–244). 28 For a brief discussion on the notion of shared identity, see Valencia (2015, pp. 175–176). 29 Theme 1: Beliefs about students and their communities;Theme 2:What are the learning priorities?; Theme 3: What are the practices for causing learning?; Theme 4: What patterns of relationship contribute to learning?; Theme 5: In what ways does the classroom ecologically represent the community?; Theme 6: What can classroom organization say about how we learn and what is important in learning?; Theme 7: What are the communication patterns of the classroom?; Theme 8: What do I emphasize as the content to be learned? 30 Banks (2010) refers to this as the “contributions approach” to integrating multicultural curricular content. His criticism is that it fails to teach students the larger picture of the roles people of color have played in, for example, U.S. society. Furthermore, the contributions of people of color become trivialized.

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31 Sharma’s (2009) vision of a democratic education is insightful and provides a well thought out alternative to the dominance of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice. For another perspective on democratic education—one that is quite well known and more concrete—see Pearl and Knight (1999) and Pearl and Pryor (2005). Also, for a brief overview of Pearl and associates’ democratic education model, see Valencia (2015, pp. 299–307).

References Ali, J., & Grabb, E. (1998). Ethnic origin, class origin, and educational attainment in Canada: Further evidence on the vertical mosaic. Journal of Canadian Studies, 33, 3–21. Anderson, E. (2018, October 22). What percentage of Canadians are white? Quora. Retrieved April 20, 2019 from https://www.quora.com/What-percentage-of-peoplein-Canada-are-white. Anyon, J. (1980). Social class and the hidden curriculum of work. Journal of Education, 1, 67–92. Anyon, J. (2005). Radical possibilities: Public policy, urban education, and a new social movement. New York, NY: Routledge. Baergen, W. B. (2000). The Ku Klux Klan in central Alberta. Alberta, Canada: Central Alberta Historical Society. Banks, J. A. (2010). Approaches to multicultural curriculum reform. In J. A. Banks & C. A. M. Banks (Eds.), Multicultural education: Issues and perspectives (7th ed., pp. 233–256). New York, NY: Wiley. Beeghley, L. (2007). The structure of social stratification in the United States (5th ed.). Needham Heights, MA: Allyn & Bacon. Bolotta, A. (2000). Canada: Face of a nation. Toronto, Canada: Gage. Books, S. (2004). Poverty and schooling in the U.S.: Contexts and consequences. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Canadian Parks and Recreation Association. (1998). The national youth at-risk pilot project initiative background. Gloucester, ON: Author. Cherubini, L., Hodson, J., Manley-Casimir, M., & Muir, C. (2010). “Closing the gap” at the peril of widening the void: Implications of the Ontario Ministry of Education’s policy for aboriginal education. Canadian Journal of Education, 33, 329–355. Dei, G. J. S. (2006). Introduction: Mapping the terrain—towards a new politics of resistance. In G. J. S. Dei & A. Kempf (Eds.), Anti-colonialism and education: The politics of resistance (pp. 1–23). Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Dei, G. J. S., & Kempf, A. (Eds.). (2006). Anti-colonialism and education: The politics of resistance. Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Duchesne, R. (2017). Canada in decay: Mass immigration, diversity, and the ethocide of EuroCanadians. London, England: Black House Publishing Ltd. El-haj,T. (2006). Elusive justice:Wrestling with difference and educational equity in everyday practice. New York, NY: Routledge. Employment Equity Act. (1995). Statues of Canada, c. 44. Gay, G. (2000). Culturally responsive teaching: Theory, research and practice. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Ghosh, R. (2002). Redefining multicultural education (2nd ed.). Scarborough, Ontario, Canada: Nielson Thomson Learning.

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Gibson, M. A. (2000). Situational and structural rationales for the school performance of immigrant youth: Three cases. In H.Vermeulen & J. Perlmann (Eds.), Immigrants, schooling and social mobility: Does culture make a difference? (pp. 72–102). London, England: Macmillan Press Ltd. Guo,Y. (2006). “Why didn’t they show up?”: Rethinking ESL parent involvement in K-12 education. TESL Canada Journal, 24, 80–95. Guo,Y. (2011). Beyond deficit paradigms: Exploring informal learning of immigrant parents. Canadian Journal for the Study of Adult Education, 24, 41–59. Hampton, M., & Roy, J. (2002). Strategies for facilitating success of first Nations students. Canadian Journal of Higher Education, 32, 1–28. Huffman, T. (2002). Resistance theory and the transculturation hypothesis as an explanation of college attrition and persistence among culturally traditional American Indian students. Journal of American Indian Education, 40, 1–23. Kanu,Y. (2002). In their own voices: First Nations students identify some cultural mediators of their learning in the formal school system. Alberta Journal of Educational Research, 48, 98–121. Kanu, Y. (2007). Increasing school success among Aboriginal students: Culturally responsive curriculum or macrostructural variables affecting schooling? Diaspora, Indigenous, and Minority Education, 1, 21–41. Kempf, A. (2006). Anti-colonial historiography: Interrogating colonial education. In G. J. S. Dei & A. Kempf (Eds.), Anti-colonialism and education:The politics of resistance (pp. 129–158). Rotterdam, Netherlands: Sense Publishers. Kinsella,W. (1994). Web of hate: Inside Canada’s far right network.Toronto, Canada: HarperCollins. Lacchin, J. M. (2015). The “wretched of Canada”: Aboriginal peoples and neo-colonialism. Sociological Imagination:Western’s Undergraduate Sociology Student Journal, 4, 1–25. Leacock, S. (1914). The dawn of Canadian history: A chronicle of Aboriginal Canada and the coming of the white man. Toronto, Canada: Glasgow, Brook and Company. Ledlow, S. (1992). Is cultural discontinuity an adequate explanation for dropping out? Journal of American Indian Education, 31, 21–36. Lewthwaite, B., Owen, T., Doiron, A., McMillan, B., & Renaud, R. (2013). Our stories about teaching and learning: A pedagogy of consequence for Yukon first Nation settings. Interchange, 44, 105–128. DOI: 10.1007/s10780-013-9199-6. Livingstone, D.W. (1999). Exploring the icebergs of adult learning: Findings of the first Canadian survey of informal learning practices. The Canadian Journal for the Study of Adult Education, 13, 49–72. MacDonald, C., & Steenbeck, A. (2015). The impact of colonization and Western assimilation on health and wellbeing of Canadian aboriginal people. International Journal of Regional and Local History, 10, 32–46. McConaghy, C. (2000). Rethinking indigenous education: Culturalism, colonialism, and the politics of knowing. Flaxton, Queensland, Australia: Post Pressed. McIntosh, P. (1990). White privilege: Unpacking the invisible knapsack. Independent School, Winter, 49(2), 31–36. McMahon, B. J. (2004). Small steps and quiet circles: Student transformations through the enactment of resilience processes. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Toronto, Canada. McMahon, B. J. (2007, March). (Im)moral praxis: Configuring theory and practice of students at risk. International Electronic Journal for Leadership in Learning, 11. Retrieved October 13, 2014 from files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ987300.pdf.

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McNamee, S. J., & Miller, R. K., Jr. (2004). The meritocracy myth. Landam, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Oakes, J. (2005). Keeping track: How schools structure inequality (2nd ed.). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Ogbu, J. U. (1982). Cultural discontinuity and schooling. Anthropology and Education Quarterly, 13, 290–307. Oloo, J. A. (2005). Strategies for facilitating success of Aboriginal students: The case of Simon Fraser University. Unpublished master’s thesis, Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada. Parkin, A. (2015, June). International report card on public education: Key facts on Canadian achievement and equity. Retrieved October 14, 2017 from http://www.environicsinstitute.org. docs/default-documents/23.-international-report-card-on-public-education.key. Pearl, A., & Knight, T. (1999). The democratic classroom: Theory into practice. Understanding Education and Policy Series. Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press. Pearl, A., & Pryor, C. R. (Eds.). (2005). Democratic practices in education: Implications for teacher education. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Portelli, J. P., Shields, C. M., & Vibert, A. B. (2007). Toward an equitable education: Poverty, diversity, and students at risk. The National Report. University of Toronto, Canada: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education. Porter, J. (1965). The vertical mosaic: An analysis of social class and power in Canada. Toronto, Canada: University of Toronto Press. Romanic, A. (2000). Aboriginal population of Canada: Growth dynamics under conditions of encounter of civilization. The Canadian Journal of Native Studies, 20, 95–137. Rothstein, R. (2004). Class and schools: Using social, economic, and educational reform to close the black-white achievement gap. Washington, DC: Economic Policy Institute. Ryan, J. (1999).Towards a new age in Innu education: Innu resistance and community activism. In S. May (Ed.), Indigenous community-based education (pp. 109–123). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Ltd. Samuel, J., & Basavarajappa, K. (2006). The visible minority population in Canada: A review of numbers, growth and labor force issues. Canadian Studies in Population, 33, 241–269. Satzewich, V., & Liodakis, N. (2013). “Race” and ethnicity in Canada: A critical introduction (3rd ed.). Ontario, CA: Oxford University Press Canada. Sharma, M. (2009). Inner city students: Stamped, labeled and shipped out! Deficit thinking and democracy in an age of neoliberalism. Unpublished master’s thesis, University of Toronto (St. George Campus), Ontario, Canada. Shields, C. M., Bishop, R., & Mazawi, A. (2005). Pathologizing practices: The impact of deficit thinking on education. New York, NY: Peter Lang. Solomon, R. P. (2002). School leaders and antiracism: Overcoming pedagogical and political obstacles. Journal of School Leadership, 12, 174–197. Solomon, R. P., Portelli, J. P., Daniel, B. J., & Campbell, A. (2005). The discourse of denial: How white teacher candidates construct race, racism and white privilege. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8, 147–169. Statistics Canada. (2003). 2001 Census: Analysis series. Aboriginal peoples of Canada: A demographic profile (Catalogue no. 96F0030XIE2001007). Ottawa, ON: Minister of Industry. Accessed at: https://www12.statcan.gc.ca/access_acces/archive.action-eng.cfm?/english/ census01/products/analytic/companion/abor/pdf/96F0030XIE2001007.pdf Statistics Canada. (2011). National household survey profile. Ottowa, Canada: Government of Canada.

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Swadener, B. B., & Lubeck, S. (1995). The social construction of children and families “at risk”: An introduction. In B. B. Swadener & S. Lubeck (Eds.), Children and families “at promise”: Deconstructing the discourse of risk (pp. 1–14). Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Trent, S., Artiles, A., & Englert, C. (1998). From deficit thinking to social constructivism: A review of theory, research, and practices in special education. Review of Research in Education, 23, 277–306. Valencia, R. R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997). The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R., & Black, M. S. (2002). “Mexican Americans don’t value education!”—On the basis of the myth, mythmaking, and debunking. Journal of Latinos in Education, 1, 81–103. Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students. Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Valenzuela, A. A. (1999). Subtractive schooling: U.S.-Mexican youth and the politics of caring. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Vibert, A. B., Portelli, J. P., Shields, C. M., & LaRocque, L. (2002). Critical practice in elementary schools: Voice, community and a curriculum of life. Journal of Educational Exchange, 3, 93–116. Wolfson, N., & Manes, J. (Eds.). (1985). Language of inequality. Berlin, Germany: Mouton. Wooley, F. (2013, June 10). “Visible minority:” A misleading concept that ought to be retired. Special to the Globe and Mail. Retrieved October 20, 2017 from https://www. theglobeandmail.com/opinion/visible-minority-a-misleading-concept-that-ought-tobe-retired/article12445364/. Wotherspoon,T., & Schissel, B. (2001).The business of placing Canadian children and youth “at-risk.” Canadian Journal of Education, 26, 321–339.

4 LATIN AMERICA (BRAZIL; COSTA RICA; MEXICO; PERU)

Latin America, which is comprised of 21 countries,1 had an estimated population of 639 million in 2016.2 As a whole, Latin America is the region of the world where colonialism remained in force for the longest time. For over 300 years, from the time of the arrival of the Spanish conquistadores in 1492 to the initial wars of independence in 1810, the yolks of colonialism had created a rigid colonizer/colonized social relationship. The societal fusion of subjugated Indigenous populations, African slaves, and the dominant, powerful White minority group led to the establishment of oppression and inequalities (Stromquist, 2001). Currently, these grave problems of inequality remain in full force. For example, poverty in Latin America is endemic and intractable. Older data inform us that poverty during the decade of 1980 to 1990 rose from 46% to 60% in urban sectors and from 50% to 52% in rural areas. Furthermore, from the 1980s to 1997 the number of people living in poverty shot up from 136 million to 207 million people (Stromquist, 2001). Contemporary data reveal that as of 2016, about 186 million people (30.7%) were living in poverty in Latin America (Ammachichi, 2018).3 Another major expression of inequality in Latin America is the bifurcated educational system in which the wealthy reap the most benefits and the poor gain little. This is particularly true among the Indigenous population and the African-descent people (e.g., as seen in Brazil) (Stromquist). The focus of this chapter is on how deficit thinking affects the problems of access to and attainment of education for marginalized groups in Latin America. There is a limited amount of literature on deficit thinking in educational thought and practice in Latin America. Based on my literature search for germane publications I was only able to locate a handful of studies (i.e., investigations conducted in Brazil, Costa Rica, Mexico, and Peru).

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Brazil Brazil, the fifth largest country in inhabitants in the world and largest country in population in Latin America, had an estimated population of 210.8 million people in 2017.4 It is an ethnically diverse nation, as indicated by the following descending percentages of ethnic groups (based on 2010 Census data):5 (a) Brancos (White Brazilians of European descent), 47.3%; (b) Pardo (mixed European, Indigenous, and African ancestry), 43.3%; (c) Pretos (African-Brazillian), 7.6%; (d) Amarelos (Asian-Brazillian), 1.1%; (e) Indigena (Indigenous-Brazilian), 0.4%. Given its long history of colonial rule by the Portuguese, it is not surprising that equalities are currently commonplace. Regarding education, there exists a strong relation between equity and social class. For example, citing data from the mid-1990s, Stromquist (2001) notes that for school-age children in the top 25% of the income-per-capital distribution, 65% of the children completed 8 years of schooling by age 16 years. By contrast, for children in the bottom 25% of the income-per-capital distribution, only 14% completed 8 years of schooling by age 16 years.6

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice Based on the available literature, deficit thinking in Brazilian education manifests in several ways: (a) differential pedagogies; (b) teachers; (c) street mathematics.

Differential Pedagogies There is a body of literature that asserts schools, via different pedagogies (teaching methods and practices) and different curricula (high-status and low-status knowledge),7 educate students differently based on their class/ethnic background. This procedure of schooling differentiation is connected to macrolevel processes of social reproduction that schools use to help maintain a stratified work force (e.g., Bowles & Gintis, 1976; Collins, 2009; Willis, 1977). In the investigation by da Silva (1988), he sought to elucidate ways in which knowledge in several Brazilian schools is distributed and eventually contributes to cultural and social reproduction processes. For his study, da Silva (1988) selected three elementary schools located in Porto Alegre, a city of 1.1 million people in southern Brazil. Hill School, a private school, enrolled middle- and upper-middle class students.8 Outskirt School, a public school, had an enrollment of exclusively working-class students. Park school, also a public school, served an enrollment that was predominantly middle-SES students. The author selected two classrooms, a third- and fifthgrade setting at each school, for intensive observation. While his fieldwork was

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underway, da Silva interviewed each of the 6 teachers. They were asked about their perspectives on curriculum, views of the students’ backgrounds, their pedagogical approach to teaching, management of discipline, and student evaluation. Regarding his findings, da Silva (1988) reports patterns of classroom pedagogy across the three schools. He underscores that the students in each school underwent a different type of schooling. At Hill school, the private school, the students experienced a form of schooling that stressed knowing rather than just memorization of detached bits of information. The teachers provided plenty of opportunities for oral and other means of self-expression. Solitary seatwork focusing on exercises and drills was kept at a minimum, and experimentation and investigation were frequently used. Teachers supplemented teaching with learning activities, such as research projects and field trips. When misbehavior occurred, teachers often attempted to provide reasons for it so the students could return to proper behavior. At Outskirt School, which enrolled working-class students, da Silva (1988) reports that compared to Hill School, there was an entirely different pattern of pedagogy and control. The predominant form of schoolwork was the frequent use of solitary seatwork in which students engaged with, for example, worksheets and workbooks. Teachers provided little feedback to students’ work. When misbehavior occurred, teachers used verbal commands to stop the disruptions. The author also reports that deficit thinking saturated the educational discourse of the teachers. The teachers attributed the students’ poor academic achievement, low motivation, and misbehavior to alleged pathological characteristics of the students and their families (e.g., violence; broken families). Such deficit thinking views of the teachers, da Silva asserts, had a grave implication for the students. That is, these negative perceptions of teachers led to lower expectations for students and, in turn, affected how these expectations shaped the type of schooling the teachers believe the students should receive. This reasoning by teachers at Outskirt School helped to form a pedagogy of very narrow structure—a practice of predominant solitary, low-level seatwork and quite limited student-teacher interactions. Such a pedagogy led to very diminished student academic achievement. The principal and other members of the staff often mentioned that most of the students will likely drop out of school before finishing the eighth grade. In light of this alleged reality, one of the counselors remarked: “Why subject them [the students] to these vocational tests if we know they are going to sell vegetables or lay bricks? This is our social reality” (p. 66). At Park School, the public school serving middle-SES students, da Silva (1988) reports that the pedagogy was, in a number of ways, similar to the pedagogy at Outskirt School. Worksheets and textbooks predominated instruction at Park School. Such solitary work included practice drills and responding to actual questions. Oral interactions occurred between teacher and student, but they were limited in range. Teachers encouraged the students to complete their

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work in a timely fashion, and teachers promptly provided evaluation. In regard to control concerns, the Park School students, compared to the Outskirt School students, had more misconduct. To secure compliance, teachers used verbal control. The Park School teachers, unlike the Outskirt School teachers, had a very positive view of the students and their backgrounds. Park School teachers, however, lamented about the students’ conduct problems, as well as their lack of motivation. The teachers attributed these problems to the families—particularly the stress caused by parents who had separated from their spouses and the negligence of parents who were quite busy. The author notes that this pathological view of the parents by teachers was based on a psychological connotation. By contrast, the Outskirt School teachers’ alleged pathological perceptions of parents were grounded in a moral connotation. In his conclusion, da Silva (1988) states that the most noticeable distinction in the teachers’ pedagogy at the three schools he observed was the presence of a definitive pedagogy (purpose; coherence) endorsed at the private school and the absence of an explicit one at the two public schools. The teachers at these latter schools were guided by “an unstated consensual understanding about the objective and nature of schooling they were to provide” (p. 63). The author also underscores the fairly tight fit between the school and the economy. That is, given the reality that school knowledge is unequally distributed, highly educated students get the best jobs, while poorly educated students get the worst jobs. This correspondence principle is a major aspect in social reproduction theory. In regard to the students of working-class background at Outskirt School, da Silva notes that their occupational futures are bleak. He asserts that the unequal schooling these students receive is greatly affected by the deficit thinking perceptions and practices of their teachers. The author concludes: “My analysis of the thinking and practices of the teachers of the working-class children may have suggested that their views are imaginary and based on mere prejudice” (p. 69).

Teachers Among low-SES school children and youth in Brazil, there is an extremely high rate of being retained a grade (or more) and dropping out of school (Gama & de Jesús, 1998; Stromquist, 2001). These major concerns prompted Gama and de Jesús to conduct an investigation of public elementary school teachers’ explanations of what they think are the primary causes of such widespread school failure. The authors note that retention rates in first grade remain high (49%) and that for the 51% of students who are promoted, nearly half (44%) have already repeated Grade 1. With respect to dropping out, the authors report that students spend, on the average, 5 years in school prior to dropping out. For those struggling students who persist in school, they take about 11 years to complete 8 years of compulsory education.

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In their theoretical section, Gama and de Jesús (1998) discuss two substantive frameworks that have been advanced to explain school failure. First, there is the social reproduction model, which was explicated in da Silva (1988) (also, see structural inequality model discussed in chapter 1, current volume). Gama and de Jesús emphasize that a chief feature of this framework is that school failure of marginalized students is influenced by structural inequalities in the sociocultural relations and the economic system in the larger society. The second conceptual model the authors discuss has to do with “theories of cultural deprivation or deficit” (p. 3). The authors continue: “Though lacking the organized framework of a theory, the body of research in the psychology of poverty reveals a metatheoretical framework” (p. 3). The authors’ point that deficit models are based on a metatheoretical framework is, I assert, contestable in light of later scholarship.9 Gama and de Jesús remind us that the deficit model (i.e., deficit thinking) was developed in the United States. They also state that in light of the similar societal conditions of poverty in the United States and Brazil in past decades, deficit thinking became very popular in educational and psychology graduate programs in Brazil in the 1970s and 1980s, and subsequently influenced the climate and curriculum of training in teacher education programs. In their investigation, Gama and de Jesús (1998) conducted three studies. For the sake of brevity, I limit discussion to Study 1 and Study 3. Study 1 had a qualitative and quantitative design, and included 451 elementary public school teachers (Grades 1 to 4) working in six different counties. In the qualitative aspect of the study, the authors held a focused group discussion, in which participants were asked to share their explanations for school failure. The results revealed that the most frequent explanations were of a deficit thinking nature. For example, the participants commented that parents were not interested in the school work and achievement of their children; children lacked motivation; children lacked readiness to learn. Study 3 included 907 public school preschool teachers. They responded to an attribution questionnaire tapping the participants’ explanations of school failure. The results were quite similar to the findings of Study 1. For instance, participants stated that families lacked interest in their children’s education; students exhibited little effort in their school work. In sum, the authors conclude: “In all cases they [Study 3 participants] exempted themselves from any share of responsibility for school failure and blamed the children and their families” (p. 6)10 —a principle characteristic of deficit thinking (see chapter 1, present volume). In their summary, Gama and de Jesús (1998) conclude that attribution theory is a promising approach in understanding teachers’ deficit thinking perceptions (also, see my discussion of fundamental attribution error in chapter 1, present volume). The authors assert that teachers’ attributions of marginalized Brazilian students and their families are not “individual cognitions but are collectively shared” (p. 8). Deficit thinking cognitions, the authors argue, are social

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representations, or common sense constructions of what we see as reality that, in turn, become transformed into social representations. These representations appear to be constructed based on misinformation and stereotyping. Such constructions are influenced by deficit thinking scholars who conduct research, as well as seen in everyday teacher observations of and interactions with poor children and their parents.

Street Mathematics The focus of the publication by Frade, Acioly-Régnier, and Jun (2013) is on mathematics education research. The authors comment that in such research there has been an assumption that marginalized groups, particularly low-SES people (including children, youth, and adults) are intellectually less capable than their economically and socially advantaged peers. Citing Ernest (2007), Frade et al. state that the general myth of low-SES people being intellectually inferior carries over to learning mathematics, and this discrimination is likely more potent in mathematics compared to other school subjects of the curriculum. The scholarly objective of Frade et al. in their chapter is to offer some new sociocultural views of mathematics learning and to point out how these “perspectives go beyond the deficit model of learning” (p. 103). The authors note that such alternatives on mathematics learning, which clearly challenge the deficit thinking paradigm, began to surface in the late 1970s (e.g., Greenfield & Childs, 1977; Lave, 1977). Also influencing the emergence of the new perspectives that disputed deficit thinking were, for example, fresh conceptions of the construct of intelligence that viewed it as being culturally bound (e.g., Gardner, 1983; Sternberg, 1985). Frade et al. (2013) state that the mathematics used in everyday settings (i.e., outside of school) in Brazil cover the work practices of, for example, fishermen, tailors, carpenters, bookmakers, and street vendors. Next, I discuss an empirical study that is germane to the latter category, which involves young street vendors. These Brazilian children and youth utilize “street mathematics,” defined as “that mathematical activity that is learned and carried out outside school” (Nunes, Schliemann, and Carraher, 1993, p. 127). The study I review here is by Carraher, Carraher, and Schliemann (1985), who conducted their study in Recife, Brazil—a city of about 1.1 million people located in the northeastern coast of the country. A major aspect of the city economy is the informal workforce, which is not regulated by the government. This informal sector consists of workers with low educational attainment. The focus in this investigation is on young low-SES street vendors selling snack foods (e.g., coconuts; corn on the cob). In their business transactions, the street vendors use—without the benefit of a pencil and paper—addition, subtraction, and multiplication, and infrequently division. The mathematical transactions are derived

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from cultural experiences learned outside the school classroom. Street mathematics is conceptualized as “mathematics learning related to the ways cultural learners learn and use mathematics” (Frade et al., 2013, p. 106). In their study, Carraher et al. (1985) had five participants (4 boys and 1 girl), ranging in age from 9 to 15 years (mean age of 11.2 years). Their formal schooling ranged from Grade 1 to Grade 8. All participants were from very low-SES background. An important aspect of the design of the investigation was to get the participants to reveal how they computed their mathematical transactions. As such, the interviewers were also customers. The researchers asked the participants to respond to mathematical questions in three tests: (a) an informal test involving concrete, context-embedded problems about the snack item they were selling (e.g., I’d like to buy four coconuts. How much will they cost?); (b) a formal test involving context-free operations (e.g., what is 35 × 4?); (c) word problems. What follows is an example of the transaction scenario for an item from the informal test and the formal test:

Informal Test take three coconuts” (at the price of Cr$40.00 each).11” How much is that?” CHILD:  (Without gestures, calculates out loud) “40, 80, 120.” CUSTOMER:  “I’ll

Formal Test Child solves the item 40 × 3 and obtains 70. She then explains the procedure: “Lower the zero; 4 and 3 is 7” (p. 26). Carraher et al. report their findings for the three tests (percentage correct for each test): (a) informal test, 98.2%; (b) formal test, 73.7%; (c) word problems, 36.8%. The authors conclude: “The results seem to be in conflict with the implicit pedagogical assumption of mathematical educators according to which children ought to learn mathematical operations and only later to apply them to verbal and real-life problems” (p. 25). The above study by Carraher et al. (1985), and other germane investigations (e.g., Reed & Lave, 1979, Saxe, 1991), present results that low-SES Brazilian children and youth street vendors demonstrate considerable skills in mathematics. These research findings provide robust evidence against deficit thinking, underscoring that such children and youth, although doing quite poorly in school, can comprehend, apply, and solve mathematics problems in their daily business transactions in the streets. Frade et al. (2013) comment: These [research] findings [as a whole] strongly challenged the adequacy of deficit models in relation to mathematical learning: failure to learn

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mathematics in school cannot be attributed to deficits, given that the same children who failed in school tasks showed mathematical understanding in other contexts. The analysis of school failure needs to focus therefore on the school itself, its values, its assessment procedures, and, above all, the different practices developed in and out-of-school contexts. (p. 107) Notwithstanding that sociocultural perspectives on mathematics learning with respect to low-SES Brazilian children and youth have led to some very important advancements in the literature, Frade et al. (2013) lament that a discomforting reality remains: In spite of assiduous efforts by researchers to underscore the key role of culture in a person’s learning and cognitive development, “deficit thinking is still a cloud hanging over the educational context” (p. 129), especially in mathematics education and mathematics research in classrooms. The authors state that a major reason for this obstacle is the belief that the needs and lived experiences of students are much too diverse to be accommodated as discrete cultural realities in the field of ethnomathematics. In addition, traditional classrooms are guided by a mathematics curriculum which is fundamentally the same in all countries, meaning there are few opportunities for dynamic change.

Nicaraguans Living in Costa Rica The following text in this section deviates from the structure of the present volume in which I examine deficit thinking in educational thought and practice in individual countries. The literature I was able to locate on Costa Rica focuses, for the most part, on two national groups—Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans— residing together in the same country. In no way does this mean that the two groups of people live in harmony and reap the benefits of equality. On the contrary, Nicaraguans—who are largely undocumented immigrants—are continually demonized and marginalized by Costa Ricans. Even the short term for Nicaraguans, Nica, “signifies undesirable otherness” (Sandoval-García, 2004, p. xiii). Sandoval-García notes that the Nicaraguan “other” is associated with an extremely unstable and undemocratic government in their country of origin, having dark skin, and living in poverty. Solano-Campos (2015) points out that contemporary investigations of Nicaraguans in Costa Rica find that they endure “persisting deficit thinking” (p. 78), issues of inequality, exclusion, and strong obstacles to assimilate in the educational system. Costa Rica has a long history of Spanish colonization. In 1502, Christopher Columbus—in his fourth and last voyage to the New World—made landfall on the east coast of Costa Rica. At the time, four major Indigenous groups, several hundred thousand in numbers, inhabited the region. In a short time, these Natives were decimated by the deadly smallpox brought by the Spaniards. As was their common practice, the Spanish authorities imported slaves to work the land.12

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In 2013, Costa Rica had a population of 4.7 million people.13 The ethnic population composition is moderately homogenous, chiefly of European origin (primarily of Spanish). Together, Whites and mestizos (mixture of Whites and Indians) make up 94% of the population. The remaining groups are Black (3%), Chinese (1%), and Indian (1%).14 The colonization of Nicaragua was similar to Costa Rica. Columbus “discovered” the landmass in 1502, but it was not until 1524 when conquistador Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba conquered and colonized the country. Battles ensued with the Indigenous people who struggled to drive out the invaders. Ultimately, the Indigenous inhabitants were enslaved as cheap labor, and many died from infectious diseases, including a strain of the common cold, brought by the Spanish.15 By 2013, Nicaragua’s population numbered 5.8 million people.16 Mestizos comprise a strong majority (69%) of the populace (a mixture of 75% European, 13% Indigenous, and 13% African descent). The remaining groups are: White (17%), Black (9%), and Indigenous (5%).17 Nicaragua has the dubious distinction of being, after Haiti, the poorest country in Latin America. The ongoing severe economic crisis in Nicaragua, coupled with the country’s unstable political regimes, have been robust push factors in Nicaraguans immigrating to Costa Rica, which has one of the strongest economic systems in Latin America (Solano-Campos, 2015).18 Regarding the poverty line, about 80% of the population in Nicaragua live below it, and 44% are in extreme poverty. By contrast, in Costa Rica about 20% of people live under the poverty line (Sandoval-García, 2004).

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice In light of what we have covered thus far, the reader is likely aware that deficit thinking is entrenched in Costa Rica, and such deficit thinking is primarily directed at Nicaraguans living there. Research findings in studies about Costa Rica regarding the marginalization of undocumented immigrant Nicaraguan students living there reflect U.S. research findings that have identified deficit thinking, prejudice, and educational exclusion directed toward undocumented immigrant students, particularly Mexican-origin pupils (e.g., Crawford, 1991; Olsen, 2008; Suárez-Orozco & Suárez-Orozco, 2008; Valencia, 2008, chapter 6). Here, I discuss deficit thinking themes regarding: (a) teachers; (b) marginalization and academic achievement.

Teachers In her investigation, Regalla (2013) sought to study teacher expectations of lowSES Costa Rican elementary school students. Her objective was to investigate whether studies in the United States—which have found that teachers possess

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lower expectations for low-SES students compared to higher expectations for middle-SES students (e.g., Auwarter & Aruguete, 2008; Ready & Wright, 2011; Rist, 1970)—have external validity for similar research investigations in Costa Rica.19 A small rural town served as the research site. The study was conducted at two elementary schools with small enrollments of K-6 students being taught by 17 teachers, all who agreed to serve as participants. School one enrolled a mixture of middle-SES students and low-SES pupils. The majority of the lowSES students’ families are Nicaraguan immigrants who chose to move to Costa Rico with the intent of escaping severe poverty. In school two, the enrollment consisted of a large number of low-SES students and is situated in a sector of the town where many of the Costa Ricans are unemployed; also, Nicaraguan immigrants live in the area of school two. To tap the teachers’ expectations, Regalla (2013) administered an 8-item Likert-type scale that could be answered in either English or Spanish. To obtain richer information, participants were given the opportunity to elaborate, in a comment section, on their responses to the scale items. Furthermore, a number of teachers engaged in informal conversations about the survey topic and provided explanations to their item responses. Examples of the statements on the survey are: Item no. 1: “I believe that the students [those who live in poverty] will perform academically as well as their middle-class peers.” Item no. 5: “I believe that the students are motivated to do their best in class.” Item no. 8: “I believe that these students think that education is very important” (p. 23). Regalla (2013) reports that the participants’ expectations of the low-SES students were a combination of being favorable and unfavorable. Regarding examples of favorable expectations, 13 of 17 (77%) of the participants responded to item no. 3 that the low-SES students are capable of learning class material.20 For item 5, which asked whether low-SES students are motivated to do their best in class, 10 of 16 (63%) of the participants said they are. With respect to unfavorable expectations, 11 of 17 (65%) of the participants commented for item no. 1 that low-SES students will not perform academically as well as their middle-class peers. For item no. 8, which asked whether low-SES students think that education is important, only 6 of 17 (35%) of the participants believed they do so. In her discussion of the results, Regalla (2013) states that in regard to unfavorable expectations the participants commented that academic difficulties of the low-SES students are influenced by (a) lack of resources and (b) parental limitations. Based on participants’ written comments and interviews, they indicated that low-SES students will not perform academically as well as their middleclass peers because of lack of resources (e.g., parents cannot afford to purchase school supplies for their children) and parents lack of support. Regarding the latter, participants stated that parents, due to their need to work, have little time to help their children with school tasks. Also, because of their low educational attainment, parents have limited ability to assist their children with homework.

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Although these explanations provided by the participants tend to reflect the lived experiences of the children and their parents, as a whole the low expectations of the participants are guided by deficit thinking. That is, it appears that the participants have given up on the students. The implication of this is that the low expectations of the participants for the low-SES students may in turn set in motion the vicious cycle of the self-fulling prophecy.21 Regalla (2013) points out a major finding emerged that sheds light on understanding the unfavorable expectations of the participants—that is, the link between SES and immigrant status of the students and their parents. Some participants were aware that Nicaraguan undocumented immigrant students do not have equal status in school (as well as in Costa Rica, as a whole). Regalla, who was completing her volunteer teaching at the two schools, recalled when a group of Grade 2 students were observed in mutual teasing and used the term, “Nica,” to insult each other. This demonization was carried over to a number of the participants’ views. A fifth-grade teacher commented: The low-class immigrant families do not want to work. The children are not motivated to do well in school or get good jobs because their parents do not think that it is important. They do not learn work ethic at home and do not want to work at school. (p. 15) Regalla (2013) concludes by stating: “The teachers …clearly show that they hold a deficit perspective of the Nicaraguan students and families” (p. 20).22 The author advocates that teacher education and in-service programs must be assiduous in the preparation of educators, focusing on how their views of the educability of low-SES immigrant students can negatively affect their expectations and pedagogy.

Marginalization and Academic Achievement The study by Purcell-Gates (2008) is also concerned with Nicaraguans living in Costa Rica, focusing on marginalization, teaching, and academic achievement. Yet, this convergence is broader in scope in that the author examines how deficit thinking directed toward Nicaraguans is constructed in the local community and in schools.23 Purcell-Gates’ primary research question is: What does it mean to be ‘on the margins’ of society and how does that relate to the abiding fact that students who live in families and communities that are “on the margins” do less well in schools as compared to those who come from positions of power and status? (p. 1) Purcell-Gates (2008) conducted a case study of a public elementary school located close to the capital city, San José. She undertook a 6-month ethnography

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of literacy practices, observing for 150 hours in three classes (kindergarten, first, and second grades). The school, La Escuela Britanica, is located in an area that is inhabited by primarily middle-class Costa Rican families. Also, there are pockets of shantytowns, called precarios, in which low- to low-middle SES Nicaraguan immigrants reside. In order to get a sense of the typicality of the schooling in which she was a participant observer, the author visited three other schools located near the precarios. Also, she visited a private school. To gather data on how deficit thinking is constructed, Purcell-Gates drew from her school observations—and newspaper accounts covering the situation of Nicaraguans in general, and the education of Nicaraguan children, in particular. Also, she conducted many interviews (e.g., with teachers, immigrant schoolchildren, doctors, taxi drivers, community activists, and neighbors). Based on responses from her informants and other data, deficit thinking was found to be pervasive. Purcell-Gates (2008) states that a nationally (and locally) constructed voice of Nicaraguan children viewed them as culturally, cognitively, and linguistically deficient. Furthermore, there exists a predominant deficit thinking perspective that Nicaraguan parents are unavailable to assist their children with their school work and are not as concerned (in comparison to Costa Rican parents) with their children’s education. The author also points out that negative stereotyping of Nicaraguans exists, in which Costa Ricans believe that the former are “warlike, [have] low and inferior levels of education, deficient language, and overall filthy living conditions” (p. 6). Other stereotypes provided by the informants include: “They [Nicaraguans] are thieves, rapists, killers. Criminals. Offenders.” “They are indios, dark-skinned.” “They don’t speak Spanish. You can’t understand them” (p. 4). To gather data on the Nicaraguan and Costa Rican students’ academic achievement, Purcell-Gates (2008) drew from the scores of several routinely administered tests measuring early literacy knowledge. Table 4.1 presents the results and reveals that in kindergarten the Nicaraguan students outperformed TABLE 4.1  Early Literacy Knowledge: Costa Rican

vs. Nicaraguan Kindergarten and First Graders Grade a

Group Class Costa Rican Nicaraguan

Kindergarten (average score)b

First (average score)b

7.8 7.8 8.3

4.6 3.4 5.9

Source:  Adapted from Purcell-Gates (2008, p. 17). a  Scores are based on raw scores. b  Scores are stanines.

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the Costa Rican students—with average scores being 8.3 and 7.8, respectively. In first grade, the results are similar, where the Nicaraguan students did better than their Costa Rican peers—with average scores of 5.9 and 3.4, respectively.24 The author underscores that these comparative data on early literacy knowledge challenge the deficit thinking views that Nicaraguan students are deficient in linguistic abilities, at least in literacy development and learning. In this finding, Purcell-Gates concludes, Lends…credence to the hypothesis that the ‘problem’ of underachievement of children from marginalized communities lies not in the community marginalized but in the marginalizing community—in their socially constructed perceptions of deficit and difference and in the ways that those constructions impact the instruction provided these children. (p. 13)

Mexico Mexico, the second most populous country in Latin America, had a population of 118.5 million people in 2013. 25 As compared to other nations we have covered thus far (i.e., United States; Canada; Brazil; Nicaragua; Costa Rica), Mexico has a long and oppressive history of colonialism. By 1521, Spanish conquistador, Hernan Cortés, assisted by rebellious Indians, was successful in overthrowing the Aztec empire. During the early era of colonialism in Mexico, the Spanish structured the economic system, with the intent of converting Indian labor from agriculture to mining so that precious metals could be exported to Spain.26 Another defining period in the history of Mexico was the Mexican-American War of 1846–1848.27 A key actor in the war was U.S. president James Knox Polk, who fervently believed in Manifest Destiny, the ideology that it was God’s plan for Whites to dominate people of color and to expand westward by using any means necessary (Greenberg, 2012). Part of this bellicose expansionism was a plan to invade Mexico. Greenberg notes that Polk’s conception of justice was undoubtedly molded by his background as a slave master. Also, she writes that Polk’s attitude toward Mexico reeked of racism and imperialism: “Mexico, inferior in both race and power, must necessarily bend to the will of its neighbor” (p. 95). On February 2, 1848, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed and brought an end to the Mexican-American War and the annexation of 500,000 square miles of Mexican territory by the United States (the current five southwestern states [California; Arizona; Colorado; New Mexico; Texas] plus more). Mexicans who chose to stay in the United States became a conquered people, signaling the beginning of persistent racial prejudice and discrimination. In the ensuing decades, Mexican Americans faced early segregation in, or exclusion from, for example, movie theaters, public accommodations

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(e.g., swimming pools; restaurants), as well as discrimination in juries, the labor market, housing in White areas, and public schools. For many Mexican Americans, segregation spanned from the “cradle to the grave.” There was forced segregation in hospital maternity wards and separate cemeteries for Mexican Americans and Whites. 28 With respect to the ethnic makeup of Mexico, there is considerable variation. The majority group is 60% mestizo (mixture of Indigenous and European, mostly Spanish), followed by 30% Indigenous, 9% White, and 1% other (Wall, 2007). “The race mixture is so thorough that among Mexico’s meztizo majority, within the same nuclear family you can find full siblings, with the same mother and father, who are very dark, and very light-skinned” (Wall, p. 1).

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice The literature on deficit thinking in Mexico is quite sparse. I was only able to locate two publications—dealing with the theme of (a) funds of knowledge as counternarratives to deficit thinking; (b) gender inequality.

Funds of Knowledge as Counternarratives to Deficit Thinking Licona (2013), using an ethnographic-style approach, conducted a 2-year case study of immigrant families residing in colonias on each side of the Mexico/ U.S. border. The primary site was a colonia located on the border of Juarez, Mexico and El Paso, Texas. A colonia is a small, impoverished unincorporated town with very limited resources (e.g., limited access to water; limited or no utilities; dirt roads; lack of police services). Colonia residents, with tremendous skills and ingenuity, build their homes using discarded materials (e.g., wooden pallets; cardboard; metal sheets; tires). The families of Licona’s investigation are Mexican citizens who live in Mexico, or have crossed the U.S. border legally or arrived as undocumented immigrants for purposes of work. He refers to them as “Mexican.” For those who have crossed the border and live as legal residents or gained citizenship in the United States, he refers to them as “Mexican Americans.” Licona (2013) discusses how Mexican immigrant students are prime targets of deficit thinking by educators, for example, being stereotyped as the “lazy Mexican.” And what follows is this common deficit thinking assertion: Because of their typically low academic achievement, which is influenced by putative poor achievement motivation, this means that they do not value education. As a counternarrative to such deficit thinking, the author focuses on the strengths the students and their families bring to the educational process. Particularly, Licona zeroes in on the notion of funds of knowledge (hereafter

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referred to as FoK), a framework developed by Luis Moll and colleagues (e.g., González, Moll, & Amanti, 2005; Moll, Amanti, Neff, & González, 1992). The FoK notion has to do with experiential knowledge families use to construct and navigate their daily lives (e.g., using herbal medicine; building a water filtration system; carpentry; farming; ranching; roofing; cooking; auto mechanics). Advocates of FoK assert that teachers, acting as ethnographers, can use FoK as a powerful bridge that makes teaching and learning quite relevant for Mexican students living in colonias. The FoK activities Mexican families exhibit rest heavily on scientific knowledge (e.g., botany; chemistry; earth science; mathematics). As such, Licona asserts that FoK practices have considerable potential for regular classroom teachers in their instruction of science education and science literacy. This instruction can assist teachers in making science culturally relevant for students in that they can see the connections between their lived experiences and the science curriculum. As well, a FoK approach to pedagogy can help teachers interrogate and disrupt any deficit thinking views they may hold of Mexican students. In his case study, Licona (2013) relied on ethnographic observations, open-ended interviews, and gathering life histories. One example of a FoK activity he discusses is when a colonia family installed a waterless composting toilet. He points out that this can be used by teachers in their instruction by grounding this knowledge in soil and decomposition, microbiology, and carbon and water cycles. Another example of a FoK activity the author discusses involved the building of a community center. Licona notes that the men, who never matriculated past sixth grade, used Pythagorean theorem in the construction of 90 degree angles for the building’s corners. In his conclusion, the author states that teacher education programs have “a responsibility to teach undergraduate courses with the same qualities to support non-[science] majors and realize that the vicious cycle that relegates science literacy to only the few must be broken” (p. 870). Licona continues by noting that inquiry-based teaching and learning present a major challenge. Once the process is grasped, however, marginalized students “can be viewed with renewed optimism and valued along with high expectations, dealing a blow to the sometimes subtle, sometimes not-so-subtle oppressive practices fueled by deficit thinking” (p. 871).

Gender Inequality Pantoja Palacios (2012) sought to explore the factors associated with the secondary school level dropout rate of male and female Mexican adolescents. She conducted her study in the state of Guanajuato. The author notes that in 1990, 67.1% of Guanajuato’s adolescents (ages 13–15 years) attended school, and in 2000 the attendance rate slightly jumped to 70%. Yet, the state ranks relatively high in its

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dropout rate (rank of 10 in 2005). In every state in Mexico, secondary school males dropout at rates higher than females. Yet, in Guanajuato the dropout rate for females is one of the highest in Mexico. In 2002, the state rate was second place nationwide (Pantoja Palacios). The author’s study was guided by this major research question: To what degree is the dropout problem attributed to families, schools, students, and the social context? The data gathered were analyzed from various perspectives, namely: gender roles, gender destiny, stereotypes, sexism, discrimination, and gender violence. Her methodology included comprehensive interviews with teachers (3 male, 4 female), student dropouts (2 male, 3 female), panel interviews with school managers and supervisors, and with regular students (24 male, 24 female). All the participants were from 4 secondary schools, 2 in the city of León and 2 in the city of Irapuato. All schools were noted for having high dropout rates. Pantoja Palacios (2012) reports that the findings of her interviews show there are gender roles in future expectations. Regarding females, most of them expect their futures to be in the roles as wife and homemakers. In the case of males, they see their futures as being in the role as providers of their families’ needs. Also, the author finds that gender inequality gets expressed in the careers male and females hope to pursue. Males mentioned careers considered “masculine”—for example, medicine, professional soccer, business, and engineering. Females specified careers in nursing, psychology, and teaching. Related to the futures of the students, Pantoja Palacios mentions a notion to which she refers to as “gender destiny,” comprehended as the unavoidable situation linked to gender roles that men and women await. With respect to females, classmates said that they leave school early, for example, “When they fall in love,” “When they get pregnant,” and “Because they have to look after their brothers and sisters.” Also related to gender destiny are family expectations in regard to the importance of education for males and females. Regarding the latter, school principals stated that parents attribute hardly any value to education for their daughters, given that they will marry early and raise their offspring. In her conclusion, Pantoja Palacios (2012) states that schools must adopt an anti-deficit thinking perspective in dealing with gender inequality: It is necessary, in our view, that schools not limit themselves to placing responsibility for keeping students in schools on families and students. They need to move forward in forming a comprehensive vision of the problem of school dropout that incorporates socio-cultural factors such as those discussed in this paper, with the characteristics of school life, teaching-learning processes, and social interaction in the school environment. (p. 148)

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Peru Peru’s population numbered 30.5 million in 2013. 29 As are the other Latin American nations, Peru has an ethnically diverse population. Indigenous people constitute a plurality at 45% which amounts to about 13.7 million. In descending order, the remaining ethnic groups are mestizo (mixture of Indigenous and White, 37%), White (15%), and Black, Japanese, Chinese, and other (3%). The Indigenous people, also referred to as Native American, constitute two ethnic groups—the Quechuas and the Aymaras, which reside in the extreme part of the southern Andes. Mestizos, during the colonial period, formed the majority group. Currently, most of them live in urban areas. Whites, although comprising a fraction of the Peruvian population, are the dominant group in the diplomatic, commercial, and political spheres of the nation. Whites are a diverse ethnic sector, consisting of, for example, people of Spanish, German, and British backgrounds. Afro-Peruvians are descendants of those slaves who were brought to the Western hemisphere at the end of the slave trade. 30 Although Peru’s economy has been booming, largely due to its lucrative mining industry (e.g., gold; silver) and foreign investment, it is a nation sharply divided along racial lines regarding income. “The poor are the dark-skinned Indigenous, the rich, getting richer, are mostly White” (Arana, 2013, p. 4). Notwithstanding that the poverty rate in Lima in 2004 was 44.8%, and declined to 15.7% in 2011, the rural poverty rate is a stunning 54%. For Peru’s Indigenous children, 78% live in poverty, and a third of all children living in rural areas suffer from chronic malnutrition. In regards to children living in the Puno region, located in southern Peru, 70% develop anemia before they reach age 3 years. In the Madre de Dios region, where gold mining is prevalent, 75% of adults have registered three times the danger levels of mercury poisoning (Arana). With respect to academic achievement, Peruvian students, in general, do not fare well. Based on the Progamme for International Assessment (PISA), which measures the achievement of 15-year-old students enrolled in private and public schools, 54% of pupils in 2001–2002 failed to attain the most basic level in reading comprehension (Level 1). A mere 0.6% of students attained the highest level of achievement (Level 5). Overall, of the 41 countries who participated in PISA, Peru placed last (Balarin & Cueto, 2007). These test scores were in line with national assessment results obtained later in 2004, when only 15.1% of students in second grade and 9.8% of students in fifth grade reached expected levels in reading comprehension. Key factors shaping these test scores are (a) type school (students in private schools outperformed their peers in public schools) and (b) geographic area (urban school students outperformed rural school students) (Balarin & Cueto). Thus, it is suggestive that SES is a chief variable in possibly explaining the test results.

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Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice The literature on deficit thinking germane to Peruvian students and their families is quite sparse. I was able to locate only four publications (Balarin & Cueto, 2007; García, 2004; Hornberger & King, 1999; McCowan, 2011). Furthermore, the deficit thinking theme that the last three of the publications capture has a common focus—issues facing Quechua speakers. The first theme I discuss is concerned with parents (Balarin & Cueto).

Parents As we have discussed in chapters 2 (The United States of America) and 3 (Canada) of the present volume (also, see Valencia, 2015, chapter 8), when parents get involved in their children’s education the benefits are quite positive in that the children’s learning becomes more focused and their academic achievement typically increases. Researchers, teachers, and school administrators in Peru are well aware of the link between parental involvement and their offspring’s achievement. As such, Balarin and Cueto (2007) undertook a study to investigate the quality of parental involvement and student achievement in Peruvian public primary schools. An impetus for the authors to conduct this investigation was that in 2003 the Peruvian Congress approved the General Law of Education, which underscores the need for schools to be more proactive in promoting parental involvement in schooling. The initial sample of Balarin and Cueto (2007) included 75 students with varying levels of academic achievement; subsequently 16 students and their parents formed the participant group.31 The authors sought to include participants from a wide variety of geographical locations (e.g., highlands; coast; rural; urban). The locations were Ayacucho, Piura, Lima, and San Martín; 2 schools were chosen in each of the communities, and 2 students (one considered a high achiever, one a low achiever) were selected from the 8 schools. For background variables characterizing the 16 students, the authors collected data on: malnutrition status, sex, school grade, grade(s) repeated, achievement test score, and age. Data on parents’ educational attainment were also collected. For each of the 16 students and their parents, semi structured interviews were conducted, as well as with the students’ teachers and headteachers. One major goal of this investigation was to examine what do parents understand by parental participation, academic achievement, and children’s grade promotion. I opted to forgo discussion of these findings. I decided instead to focus on teachers’ perceptions of parents, as this is where deficit thinking of teachers distancing themselves from parents surfaced. One parent of a low achiever provides this example of a teacher separating oneself: The teacher never tells us anything she never gives us any information. Sometimes she only gives us math exercises. But sometimes the teacher

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is very mean, we don’t get a single example from her. Or when she does, we don’t know for which course an example is and we have to go to ask another teacher to explain it to us. (p. 14) Examples of deficit thinking directed toward parents were common: A teacher of a low-achieving student, in explaining the reason for the poor achievement is “because he doesn’t have a very solid home, because the father sometimes doesn’t have a job, and the mother has hardly any work…And so there’s not enough for his nourishment so that he can have better achievement in school” (p. 21). More teachers of low-achieving students commented: “His achievement is low, I think, because of his parents’ lack of concern” (p. 21). Another teacher remarked: “[His achievement is low] because [he] doesn’t have any affection from his parents” (p. 22). Still yet, another teacher notes: “This child is not doing well because of the lack of support from his parents” (p. 22). In their conclusion, Balarin and Cueto (2007) comment: “Teachers appear to put the blame of achievement problems on home-related factors” (p. 22). Although some of the teachers were well aware that the families of the lowachieving students had serious economic problems to overcome that affected their children’s schooling (e.g., having little money to buy school supplies), the teachers still held deficit thinking views of the families. Such perspectives, coupled with separating themselves from the parents, appeared to lead to teacher frustration and abandoning the students’ academic needs. The authors also note that the parents (primarily of low-achieving students) receive little and inadequate guidance from teachers as how to provide support for their children’s academic development.

Issues Facing Quechua Speakers Well before the arrival of Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro and his soldiers in Peru in 1532, the Incas had enacted Quechua as the official language of the Inca Empire. Eventually, colonial rule led Spanish to be the official language. Quechua, however, prevailed as the colonialists believed it would be beneficial for their rule, especially in that Quechua could serve a highly utilitarian role—the facilitation in the indoctrination of Christianity. Nonetheless, Quechua remained an inferior status to Spanish during the colonial era (García, 2004). In 1975, Peru became the first country in Latin America to make official an Indigenous language, equal to Spanish. Notwithstanding this historic moment, from the time of Peru’s independence in 1821 up to the present, Quechua has held subordinate status to Spanish. This dominance over Indigenous speakers is particularly seen in Peru’s schools and in the courts (García).

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In Peru, approximately 4 million people (13%) of the total population of 30.5 million speak Quechua fluently, and about 10 million (about one-third of all Peruvians) comprehend some of the language. On a broader scale, there are estimated to be 8 million Quechua speakers in other Latin American countries (e.g., Ecuador; Colombia; Chile), at one time dominated by the Inca Empire. Quechua, with all its varieties in different regions, has the distinction of being the Indigenous language most widely spoken in the Americas (Collyns, 2016).32 Although Quechua was recognized as an official language back in 1975, the language remains synonymous with social rejection, a precursor to discrimination. Many Indigenous parents intentionally do not teach their children Quechua, in fear of the offspring getting mocked or rejected. Furthermore, Quechua speakers are associated with being very poor. Based on a 2014 World Bank study, 60% of Quechua-speaking Peruvians do not have access to health services (Collyns). One issue facing Quechua-speaking Peruvians is the uneven and controversial achievements in bilingual education programs. García (2004), in a 17-month multi-site ethnography in the Andean highlands, focuses on the questionable implementation of bilingual education in Indigenous schools beginning in the 1990s.33 A major problem that García observed was that many parents of Quechua-speaking children rejected bilingual education, as structured, in their schools. The response by state officials was strong in tone and opinion: “Peruvian Indigenous parents did not know any better” (García, p. 359). This deficit thinking view, “and the paternalistic assumptions it makes about parents of children affected by the implementation of bilingual education, is at the heart of tensions between Indigenous rights activists [including state Indigenous professionals] … and many Indigenous parents” (p. 359). The basis of the Indigenous parents’ rejection of bilingual education, García (2004) notes, is that these parents want their children to learn Spanish as it will advance their democratic inclusion in Peru. Yet, the structure of the bilingual education programs are so designed that Indigenous students typically spend 2 years of learning in Quechua before being exposed to learning Spanish. García comments that given the reality Indigenous students attain only 4 to 5 years of schooling, waiting to learn Spanish is way too long. One mother, at a community meeting, summed up matters as such: “I don’t have time to be patient. And my children don’t have time to waste on education that teaches them nothing but what they already learn at home talking to us” (p. 359). García remarks that the mother was underscoring a complaint that bilingual education, as implemented, is a means to prevent Indigenous students from learning Spanish, and thus disallowing the parents to position themselves and their children—in their own way—within Peruvian society. Exacerbating the pedagogical issue about the inappropriate delivery of bilingual education, is that (a) most bilingual education programs in Peru are supported by international resources, instead of the government and (b) the Quechua language still has low status in Peru.

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García concludes by commenting that bilingual education for children who speak Quechua must be implemented in a way that is scientifically sound, there needs to be stronger support from the government, Indigenous rights must be protected, and appropriate levels of funding have to be allocated for bilingual education programs. A second issue pertinent to Quechua speakers in Peru has to do with an orthographic debate arising from the process of enacting an official orthography for Quechua. Hornberger and King (1999) examine the three versus five vowel debate that surfaced in the 1990s. The authors point out that the core of this linguistic debate is that Quechua has just three vowel phonemes.34 A group of Peruvian linguists assert that in light of the phonemic principle used in designing alphabets (when each sound that is idiosyncratic to the Indigenous speaker is expressed by one and just one letter), the alphabet of Quechua speakers needs three vowels. On the other hand, members of the Quechua Academy argue that given other phonemic principles, a five-vowel system for Quechua should be the case.35 Furthermore, Quechua Academy members assert that Quechua has employed a five-vowel written system since the colonial period. Peruvian linguists make the point that the argument for a five-vowel system is an imposition of Spanish linguistic conventions on Quechua. Hornberger and King (1999) note that to impose Spanish orthographic rules over Quechua makes the latter language subservient to the former, and “is just another form of colonialism” (p. 167). The linguists also comment that Quechua speakers who have written books in Quechua for bilingual education instruction have not had any trouble utilizing three vowels. In conclusion, Hornberger and King state that attempts for language authenticity as a representation of a people’s true voice and face is a worthwhile goal. Such language planning, however, runs the risks of harming a language if unilateral norms and immalleable forms are the status quo. The authors note that instead, experience informs us unification attempts “must be directed towards ratifying the norms and forms which emerge out of the confluence of multiple streams of use of the language; in that way, unification becomes the compliment to, rather than the adversary of authenticity” (p. 177).

Notes 1 A complete list of Latin American countries with their capitals–Buzzle. Retrieved December 10, 2017 from https://sciencestruck.com/complete-listof-latin-american-countries-with-their-capitals. 2 Latin America–Wikipedia. Retrieved December 10, 2017 from https://en.wikipedia. org/wiki/Latin_America. 3 The poverty rate is highest for women, young people, adolescents, and children—and people in rural areas (Ammachichi, 2018). 4 Population of Brazil 2017. Retrieved December 8, 2017 from populationof2017.com/ population-of-brazil-2017.html.

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5 Largest ethnic groups in Brazil–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved December 8, 2017 from www.worldatlas.com/articles/largest-ethnic-groups-in-brazil.html. 6 CEPAL. (1994). 7 High-status knowledge (e.g., mathematics covering statistics and probability) is a prerequisite for matriculation and success in college. Low-status knowledge (e.g., mathematics focusing on computational skills and arithmetical facts) exposes students to types of knowledge that helps prepare them for passage into the non-credentialed workforce (see Oakes, 1985). This note on high-status/low-status knowledge builds on, with revisions, Valencia (2015, p. 241). 8 The three schools’ names are pseudonyms. 9 This later scholarship asserts that although the deficit thinking model rests on pseudoscience and flawed methodology, its characteristics qualify it to be a theory (see Valencia, 1997, 2009, 2010, 2013). Furthermore, the deficit thinking theory aligns itself with the prominent attribution theory (see chapter 1, present volume). Gama and de Jesús (1998), however, should not be held at fault for their misconception of deficit thinking as a metatheory. The authors simply did not have access to the later theoretical discourse at the time of their writing. 10 Gama and de Jesús (1998) note that other studies of Brazilian school teachers’ explanations for school failure showed similar results (e.g., Mello, 1980; Pilati, 1994). 11 “Cr” refers to the cruzeiro, Brazilian currency from 1942 to 1993; the name was replaced in 1994 with the real. See: Brazilian cruzeiro–Wikipedia. Retrieved December 23, 2017 from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brazilian_cruzeiro. 12 Costa Rica–History and Culture–Geographies. Retrieved February 21, 2019 from www.geographia.com/costa-rica/history.htm. 13 Ibid., note 1. 14 Costa Rica–Encyclopedia of the Nations. Retrieved December 20, 2017 from www. nationsencyclopedia.com>Americas. 15 Nicaragua–History and culture–iExplore. Retrieved February 21, 2019 from https:// www.iexplore.com/articles/travel-guides/central-and-south-america/nicaragua/ history-and-culture 16 Ibid., note 1. 17 Nicaraguans–Wikipedia. Retrieved December 20, 2017 from https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Nicaraguans. 18 One aspect that makes it easier for Nicaraguans to immigrate to Costa Rica is that the Costa Rica border is directly south of Nicaragua. 19 Research studies in the United States have also found that teachers have lower expectations for Black students compared to White students (e.g., Baron, Tom, & Cooper, 1985; Dusek & Joseph, 1983; Tenenbaum & Ruck, 2007). 20 Regalla (2013) did not subject any of the comparisons to inferential statistics. 21 The self-fulfilling prophecy is a prediction or expectation at the outset that is false and rigid. The expectation triggers a sequence of events that cause the initial expectation to become true (Brophy & Good, 1974; Merton, 1948). For research on the self-fulfilling prophecy, see for example, Jussim (1986, 1989), and Jussim and Harber (2005). 22 This statement is likely true, but Regalla (2013) could have potentially strengthened her conclusion by subjecting her data to a 2 × 2 analysis (Nicaraguan students x Costa Rican students; strongly agree/agree × strongly disagree/disagree) and by using an inferential statistical test. 23 Purcell-Gates also has a published article (Purcell-Gates, 2014) that is very similar to Purcell-Gates (2008), which is a paper presentation. 24 Purcell-Gates (2008) did not subject any of the test score differences to inferential testing. 25 Ibid., note 1.

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26 History of Mexico–Nations online. Retrieved December 22, 2017 from www. nationsonline.org/oneworld/History/Mexico-history.htm. 27 The following discussion of the Mexican-American War builds on, with revisions, Valencia (2015, pp. 205–206). 28 For citations of these instances of racial prejudice and discrimination, see Valencia (2015, pp. 205–206). 29 Major ethnic groups of Peru. Retrieved December 21, 2017 from https://www. worldatlas.com/articles/major-ethnic-groups-of-peru.html. 30 Major ethnic groups of Peru–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved January 1, 2018 from https:// www.worldatlas.com/articles/major-ethnic-groups-of-peru.html. 31 This study was a part of a larger investigation by the authors (see Balarin & Cueto, 2007, p. 8). 32 Other Indigenous languages spoken in Latin America are Aymara (Peru and Bolivia) and Ashaninka and Awajun (Peruvian Amazon) (Collyns, 2016). 33 García (2004) notes that bilingual education in Peru is also referred to as “bilingual intercultural education.” 34 For linguistic details on the three-vowel system, see Hornberger and King (1999, p. 165). 35 Ibid., p. 165.

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Crawford, J. (1991). Bilingual education: History, politics, theory, and practice (2nd ed.). Los Angeles, CA: Bilingual Educational Series. da Silva, T. T. (1988). Distribution of school knowledge and social reproduction in a Brazilian urban setting. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 9, 55–79. Dusek, J. B., & Joseph, G. (1983). The bases of teacher expectancies: A meta-analysis. Journal of Educational Psychology, 75, 327–346. Ernest, P. (2007).Why social justice? Philosophy of Mathematics Education Journal, 21. Retrieved December 25, 2017 from http://people.exeter.ac.uk/PErnest/pome21/index.htm. Frade, C., Acioly-Régnier, N., & Jun, L. (2013). Beyond deficit models of learning mathematics: Socio-cultural directions for change and research. In M. A. Clements., A. J. Bishop, C. Keitel, J. Kilpatrick, & F. K. S. Leung (Eds.), Third international handbook of mathematics education (pp. 101–144). New York, NY: Springer. Gama, E. P., & de Jesús, D. M. (1998, April). Teachers’ causal explanations for achievement: Common sense or social representations? San Diego, CA: Paper presented at the meeting of the American Educational Research Association. García, M. E. (2004). Rethinking bilingual education in Peru: Intercultural politics, state policy and Indigenous rights. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 7, 348–367. DOI 10.1080/13670050408667819. Gardner, H. (1983). Multiple intelligences:The theory in practice. New York, NY: Basic Books. González, N., Moll, L. C., & Amanti, C. (Eds.). (2005). Funds of knowledge:Theorizing practices in households and classrooms. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Greenberg, A. S. (2012). A wicked war: Polk, Clay, Lincoln, and the 1846 U.S. invasion of Mexico. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf. Greenfield, P., & Childs, C. (1977).Weaving, color terms, and pattern representation: Cultural influences and cognitive development among the Zinacantecos of Southern Mexico. International Journal of Psychology, 11, 23–48. Hornberger, N. H., & King, K. A. (1999). Authenticity and unification in Quechua language planning. In S. May (Ed.), Indigenous community-based education (pp. 160–180). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Ltd. Jussim, L. (1986). Self-fulfilling prophecies: A theoretical and integrative review. Psychological Review, 93, 429–445. Jussim, L. (1989).Teacher expectations: Self-fulfilling prophecies, perceptual biases, and accuracy. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 57, 469–480. Jussim, L., & Harber, K. D. (2005). Teacher expectations and self-fulfilling prophecies: Knowns and unknowns, resolved and unresolved controversies. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 9, 131–155. Lave, J. (1977). Cognitive consequences of traditional apprenticeship training in Africa. Anthropology and Education Quarterly, 7, 177–180. Licona, M. M. (2013). Mexican and Mexican-American children’s funds of knowledge as interventions into deficit thinking: Opportunities for praxis in science education. Cultural Studies of Science Education, 8, 859–872. DOI 10.1007/s11422-013-9515-6. McCowan, T. (2011). Human rights, capabilities and the normative basis of “Education for All.” Theory and Research in Education, 9, 283–298. DOI 10.1177/1477875511419566. Mello, G. (1980). Magistério de 1° Grau: da competência técnica ao compromisso político. [Elementary school teaching: From technical competency to political commitment]. São Paulo, Brazil: Cortez. Merton, R. (1948). The self-fulfilling prophecy. Antioch Review, 8, 193–210.

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Moll, L. C., Amanti, L. C., Neff, D., & González, N. (1992). Funds of knowledge for teaching: Using a qualitative approach to connect homes and classrooms. Theory into Practice, 31, 132–141. Nunes, T., Schliemann, A. D., & Carraher, D. W. (1993). Street mathematics and school mathematics. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Oakes, J. (1985). Keeping track: How schools structure inequality. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Olsen, M. (2008). Made in America: Immigrant students in our public schools. New York, NY: The Free Press. Pantoja Palacios, J. (2012). Gender inequality and school dropout at the secondary level. Resources for Feminist Research, 34, 139–147. Pilati, O. (1994). Sistema Nacional de Avaliação da Educação Básica–SAEB [National system of basic education evaluation—SAEB]. Ensaio: Avaliação e Políticas Públicas em Educação. Rio de Janeiro, 2(1), October-December, 11–30. Purcell-Gates, V. (2008, March). Constructions of deficit: Families and children on the margins. New York, NY: Paper presented at the meeting of the American Educational Research Association. Purcell-Gates, V. (2014). Constructions of difference and deficit, a case study: Nicaraguan families and children on the margins in Costa Rica. Global Education Review, 1, 7–25. Ready, D., & Wright, D. (2011). Accuracy and inaccuracy in teachers’ perceptions of young children’s cognitive abilities: The role of child background and classroom comfort. American Educational Research Journal, 48, 335–360. Reed, H. J., & Lave, J. (1979). Arithmetic as a tool for investigating relations between culture and cognition. American Anthropologist, 6, 568–582. Regalla, M. (2013). Teacher expectations and students from low socioeconomic background: A perspective from Costa Rica. (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No. ED 540 254) Rist, R. C. (1970). Student social class and teacher expectations: The self-fulfilling prophecy in ghetto education. Harvard Educational Review, 40, 411–451. Sandoval-García, C. (2004). Threatening others: Nicaraguans and the formation of national identities in Costa Rica. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press. Saxe, G. B. (1991). Culture and cognitive development: Studies in mathematical understanding. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Solano-Campos, A. (2015). Children’s national identity in multicultural classrooms in Costa Rica and the United States. Research in Comparative & International Education, 10, 71–94. Sternberg, R. J. (1985). Beyond IQ: A triarchic theory of human intelligence. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Stromquist, N. P. (2001). What poverty does to girls’ education: The intersection of class, gender and policy in Latin America. Compare, 3, 39–56. Suárez-Orozco, C., & Suárez-Orozco, M. (2008). Learning in a new land: Immigrant students in American society. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Tenenbaum, H. R., & Ruck, M. D. (2007). Are teachers’ expectations different for racial minority than for European American students? A meta-analysis. Journal of Educational Psychology, 99, 253–273. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997). The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press.

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Valencia, R. R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York, NY: New York University Press. Valencia, R. R. (2009, June 25). A response to Ruby Payne’s claim that the deficit model has no scholarly utility. Teachers College Record. Retrieved December 27, 2017 from http:// www.tcrecord.org/Content.asp?ContentID=15691. Valencia, R. R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R.R. (2013). Jason Richwine’s dissertation, IQ and Immigration Policy: Neohereditarianism, pseudoscience, and deficit thinking. Teachers College Record. Retrieved November 1, 2013 from http://tcrecord.org ID Number: 17134. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Wall, A. (2007, July). Races of Mexico and the Mexican genome. Bandera News. Retrieved December 22, 2017 from www.banderasnews.com/0707/eded-racesofmexico.htm Willis, P. (1977). Learning to labor: How working-class kids get working-class jobs. New York, NY: Teachers College Press.

PART II

South Pacific

5 AUSTRALIA

Part II of this volume covers deficit thinking in educational thought and practice in three countries of the South Pacific region of the world— Australia, New Zealand, and Fiji. Fiji is addressed in chapter 6, alongside with New Zealand. I begin with Australia by discussing: (a) conquest and colonization; (b) ethnic demographic profile; (c) brief history of Australian education; (d) TAG; (e) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization of Australia Aboriginal people of Australia, having entered the landmass currently called Australia about 60,000 years ago, represent the most enduring and continuous culture of people on earth. Over time, and before the British invasion, there was immense diversity among the Aborigines, numbering over 600 languages and cultures (Raphael, Swan, & Martinek, 1998). In 1770, British explorer Captain James Cook claimed the continent of Australia for the British. Later, in 1788, the Colony of New South Wales at Sydney became the first White settlement established in Australia (Raphael et al.). From the beginning of the British conquest of Australia, deficit thinking directed toward the Indigenous people was clearly established. Such deficit thinking views were epitomized in the claiming of the land and the subsequent colonization. Australia was seen as Terra Nullius—that is, a Latin term meaning “a land of no people” (Raphael et al., p. 327). Also, according to international law the term means “land belonging to no one or no man’s land.”1 The implication of this Othering is striking in its marginalizing implication. The White settlers, from the onset of their colonization, denied the

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existence of the Aborigines as human beings and of their rights to the land they had occupied for thousands and thousands of years. Raphael et al. (1998) frame the Terra Nullius notion in terms of intergenerational aspects of trauma for Australian Aboriginal people. The first level of trauma was dispossession of their rights. The psychological impact of such dispossession goes beyond losing one’s land, but also destroyed the Aborigines’ communities. A second level of trauma Raphael et al. discuss is the colonizers’ view that Australian Aboriginals were considered to be “subhuman.” This deficit thinking perspective led to considerable racial discrimination, denigration, degradation, and exclusion. Furthermore, there was pervasive extermination of Australian Aboriginals by the British colonizers. It has been estimated that at the time of the first British settlements there were between 300,000 to 1 million Indigenous people living in Australia. Yet, during the Frontier Wars (1788–1934) an estimate is that 20,000 Indigenous people were killed, compared to 2,000 to 2,500 Europeans. Even more devastating on the Indigenous population was the fatal impact of diseases brought by the British (e.g., flu; measles; venereal diseases; tuberculosis; smallpox), loss of hunting grounds, and subsequent starvation.2 Raphael et al. (1998) also discuss another form of trauma experienced by the Indigenous people of Australia. The colonizers introduced policies in which Indigenous children were forcefully removed from their parents in order to assimilate and “civilize” them, and “to train them for the lower orders of white society” (p. 328). The children who were removed were trained for genderspecific jobs—girls (domestic work), boys (farm labor). Raphael et al. conclude by discussing the impact of these colonial stressors on future generations of Aborigines. Studies of Australian Aboriginals have found higher rates of shortened life spans, deaths from diseases, suicidal ideation and suicides, substance abuse, and mental health problems. Raphael et al. comment that it is a tremendous tribute to many Aboriginal people in being able to survive these assaults. Through their enduring strengths, they may have much to teach others of resilience and survival. It is their human right to have appropriate support and resources to overcome the effects of the present and the past, and to preserve an Aboriginal future for themselves and their children. (p. 337)

Ethnic Demographic Profile Australia is a country and continent (with a landmass of sixth largest in the world), and consists of six federated states (New South Wales; Queensland; South Australia; Tasmania; Victoria; Western Australia), three federal internal territories, and seven external federal territories. The states were originally separate British colonies. Upon Federation in 1901, the six colonies transformed to become the founding states of the newly established Commonwealth of Australia.3 Australia,

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which ranks number 52 in the world in population and ranks number 1 in population of all Oceania countries,4 had an estimated population of 24,598,900 people in 2017.5 Australia boasts of its cultural and ethnic diversity (more than 200 languages spoken). Regarding ethnic makeup, people of British origin constitute the strong majority (67.4%) of the total population. In descending order, the remaining ethnic groups are: Irish (8.7%), Italian (3.8%), German (3.7%), Chinese (3.6%), Aborigine (3.0%),6 Indian (1.7%), Greek (1.6%), Dutch (1.2%), and other (5.3%).7 In light of the pervasive and persistent oppression Aborigines endured during the colonial era, they still face a rash of race-and class-related problems in contemporary times. Armstrong (2004) comments that Aboriginal people, for over a decade, have received a battering on many fronts. In 1992, the Mabo judgment recognized Native Title rights. The Australian government, however, engaged in an unyielding assault on the few gains Aboriginal people had achieved. Armstrong reports, for example, Aborigines have experienced high rates of unemployment, reductions in income, declines in matriculation rates to higher education, high rates of incarceration, and increased gaps in life expectancy between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people. Regards to employment patterns, 31.2% of Indigenous men workers are concentrated in unskilled jobs with low pay—compared to only 9.9% of non-Indigenous men. With respect to incarceration rates, Aboriginal youth, who make up a very small fraction of the youth population, constitute 60% of young people in custody. Aboriginal female inmates constitute 80% of the total group of female prisoners. Armstrong notes that some governmental officials proffer a deficit thinking view to explain these horrid conditions. Namely, the problems Aboriginal people experience are their own makings (e.g., “anti-social behavior” and “welfare dependency,” p. 1).

Brief History of Australian Education In light of the colonial-generated intergenerational trauma suffered by Aboriginal people, it would be informative to explore how Aboriginal children and youth fared, over time, in the Australian educational system. For this brief history, I draw primarily from Campbell and Proctor (2014) and McConnochie (1982). In his historical perspectives of Aborigine and Australian education, McConnochie identifies three broad periods. Period 1 ranged from colonial settlement to around 1860. Rowley (1970) notes that in 1814 the British authorities viewed Aborigines as potential assets (e.g., laborers) who could well acquire useful roles as members of the lowest rungs of society. Rowley also comments that the colonial objective was to Christianize and civilize the “heathen” Aborigines. As early as 1838, German Lutheran missionaries set forth in Queensland and established a school and mission for Aboriginal people, with the goal to civilize the offspring and make them “proper” Christian subjects (Campbell & Proctor). Also, boys were trained to become agricultural workers and girls were prepared to serve as domestic servants. Around the mid-1880s, public schools began

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to educate Aboriginal children, but in very small numbers. In New South Wales, an 1882 census reported that of 1,500 Aboriginal children of school age, less than 200 (13.3%) were enrolled in school. Of these, 170 (85%) were educated in 13 segregated schools (Campbell & Proctor). The second period of Aboriginal education McConnochie (1982) identifies took place from the 1860s to the 1940s. This era signals the beginning of Aboriginal students placed in reserve schools, which were quite inferior as seen in unqualified and poorly paid teachers, inadequately equipped classrooms, and substandard buildings. Another development that did not bode well for Aborigines was the appearance of social Darwinism in the late 19th century. Valencia (1997) comments that the term “social Darwinism” stems from Charles Darwin’s account and principles of biological evolution in which such precepts could apply to problems in some human populations. English philosopher Herbert Spencer is given credit for coining the key phrase in social Darwinism—“survival of the fittest” (Degler, 1991). In the late 19th century, social Darwinism became an important evolutionary rationale to explain the alleged inevitability of poverty, attainment of wealth, racial differences in intelligence, and social stratification in general.8 This deficit thinking and racist discourse, which asserted that some ethnic groups were less fit in intelligence than Whites, carried considerable weight in the educational treatment of Aboriginal children and youth. Campbell and Proctor (2014) note: “A select committee of the South Australian parliament in 1860, for example, pronounced that halfcastes were more educable than full-blood Aborigines” (p. 67).9 The third period of Aboriginal education discussed by McConnochie (1982) took place from 1940 to the mid-1960s. It was a time of major proposed educational change: (a) a shift from a policy of segregation to assimilation; (b) a need to have trained teachers and improved school facilities. The implementation of policies of school assimilation (i.e., school integration), however, were impeded by continuing racial prejudice directed toward Aborigines by the general public, as well as by school teachers. Similarly to what transpired in the United States in the mid-1950s and early 1960s as a result of the 1954 landmark school desegregation ruling in Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka—in which there was fierce White resistance to school integration (Valencia, 2015, chapter 4)—there was also strong opposition to racially integrated education in Australia. Concerning the employment of trained teachers, this objective was not realized until 1956.

TAG It is not surprising that in light of the very inferior education Aboriginal students have historically experienced—coupled with the frequent deficit thinking views of their educability by White school officials, teachers, and

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politicians—a substantial achievement chasm has existed, over time, between these students and their White counterparts. In this section on Australia I briefly document TAG. Reports of TAG data in Australia go back nearly 8 decades. Citing a survey of New South Wales schools (reported by Beckenham, 1948), McConnochie (1982) notes that from 1942 to 1946, 75% of Aboriginal students were minimally 12 months retarded.10 In another report conducted in New South Wales (Duncan, 1959), McConnochie comments that in one school, Aboriginal students (Grades 4 to 6), who had a mean chronological age of 12 years and 1 month, had an average retardation of 4 years and 2 months in reading, for example. Based on a 1964 survey conducted in New South Wales, Phelan (1964) reports that only 1 in 514 (0.2%) Aboriginal students reached 5th grade (cited in McConnochie). Green (1982) reports that based on the 1971 Census, 25% of all Aboriginal students (15 years of age and over) had never attended school, 40% attended only primary school, and less than 2% had made it to the 10th grade. Green also discusses a 1979 survey conducted in Western Australia that reports of 1,161 public school Aboriginal children enrolled in G1, there were only 21 (1.8%) enrolled in G12. In regard to contemporary data on TAG in Australia, Ford (2013) provides a comprehensive analysis of cross-ethnic comparisons. She examines data from the National Australian Program in Literacy and Numeracy (NAPLAN), which was established in 2008. This testing program evaluates student performance in writing, reading, numeracy, and grammar. NAPLAN tests students in grades 3, 5, 7, and 9,11 but Ford confines her reporting to grades 3, 5, and 7—and for the subjects of reading, writing, and numeracy. NAPLAN reports Indigenous and non-Indigenous achievement scores (and TAG) for Australia, as a whole, the states, and the territories. She primarily focuses on the remote Northern Territory (has the largest percentage of Indigenous people) and New South Wales (has the largest number of Indigenous people).12 NAPLAN scores are provided based on three criteria: (a) Below National Minimum Standard (Below NMS); (b) National Minimum Standard (NMS); (c) Above National Minimum Standard (Above NMS). Ford’s (2013) presentation of findings is quite thorough. For the sake of brevity, I summarize a number of highlights: 1. In 2009, for G3 students, as a case point, there was a national gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous students of 19.7 percentage points in reading and 21.2 percentage points in numeracy. Regarding actual percentages, these gaps translate as follows: 75% of Indigenous G3 students achieved the NMS, while 94% of G3 non-Indigenous did.

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2. For G9 North Territory students, for example, the largest gaps, by far, existed. The gaps were 58.4 percentage points (reading), 58.2 points (writing), and 49.5 points (numeracy). 3. Ford reports a significant widening of TAG of about 10 percentage points between G3 and G5 students. This was seen across Australia, and for all states and territories. 4. The author also reports gaps for students scoring Below NMS. For G5 reading, as an example, these gaps were: 25.7 points (Australia), 16.0 points (New South Wales), and 58.8 points (Northern Territory). 5. Ford also presents a trend analysis of gaps over a period from 2001 to 2009.13 Over this 9-year period, the gap remained quite static—52 percentage points in 2001 and 50 points in 2009. Valencia (2015, p. 7, Figures 1.1 and 1.2) found a similar trend analysis pattern in the United States over 21 years (1992–2013) for Mexican American/Latino and Latina-White comparisons and for Black-White comparisons. Valencia’s analysis was based on G9 reading scores from the National Assessment of Educational Progress. In her analysis of TAG in Australia, Ford (2013) draws from CRT. As I unpacked the notion in the Introduction of the present volume, CRT asserts that race and racism are deeply imbedded in countries that are heavily stratified along lines of race and class. CRT is a valuable heuristic to examine how White hegemony is structured to oppress people of color while it protects White privilege. In Australia, Ford reminds us of how government sanctioned polices constituted institutional racism (e.g., forceful removal of Aboriginal children from their families; denial of equal educational opportunities for Aboriginal children and youth). Ford also frames her analysis by borrowing Gillborn’s (2008) notion of “locked-in inequality.” Gillborn, whose study is of education in England, comments: “Educational race inequality in England is a form of ‘locked-in inequality’ that is inevitable and permanent under certain circumstances” (p. 45; see chapter 7 present volume for further discussion). Ford, applying Gillborn’s notion to Australia, notes that locked-in inequality has its origins in a vastly inferior education for Aboriginal children in the past and the present struggles to provide a first-rate education for these children. Ford concludes by maintaining that Australian education needs massive systemic change. One transformation she suggests is “both-ways education.” She quotes Ober (2009) who defines the concept as such: Both-ways education is about drawing on and acknowledging skills, language, knowledge, concepts and understanding from both indigenous and Western knowledge systems. It’s about everything that makes up an indigenous person’s identity, and then finding a bridge from this knowledge to link into new Western academic knowledge. (p. 39)

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Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice Deficit thinking in Australian education is expressed in the following themes: (a) teachers; (b) teacher education; (c) language; (d) developmental assessment (language and intelligence).

Teachers Eckermann (1977), in an older study, provides rich insights how Aboriginal students were negatively perceived by teachers in Rural Town (pseudonym), Queensland. She comments that after prolonged discussions with primary and secondary Aboriginal students, she came to the conclusion that the students: (a) do not enjoy learning; (b) do not see the benefits of education for their future; (c) often fail to learn the basic skills of reading and writing. Based on interviews with the students, parents, and teachers, it is not surprising that the Aboriginal students expressed such alienation from the learning process and practices in the schools. Consider the comments in which students shared their perceptions of the teachers’ deficit thinking attitudes. One student remarked: “The teachers never take any trouble to explain things” (p. 36). Another student said: “I don’t like school ‘cause the teachers don’t like us dark kids, that might be only my idea, but I reckon they pick on the dark ones and make them feel small” (p. 36). Eckermann notes that, with the exception of two students she interviewed, the prevalent perception was: “The teacher doesn’t like them, and doesn’t ‘teach them’” (p. 36). Eckermann (1977) also reports that the students’ mothers were well aware that the teachers held deficit thinking views against their offspring. For example, one mother stated: “I reckon ‘X’ left school because that headmaster was down on dark kids…. He told [her daughter] that now she was fifteen she could leave [school] anytime as far as he was concerned” (p. 37). Another mother commented: “That teacher has a habit of pulling the kids’ hair, so my ‘X’ reckons she’s too frightened to move in his lesson” (p. 7). Still yet, another mother noted: “He [the headmaster] doesn’t like dark kids and when the white kids see the teachers picking on the dark ones, they reckon they can try it on too. That Mr—he’s the worst of the lot, always punching and pulling their hair” (p. 37). Eckermann recalls her interview with one of the younger high school teachers. He commented: “They [the Aboriginal students] are always ready to fight if they believe a white child has insulted them and are rowdy, withdrawn, cheeky, rebellious and undisciplined in the classroom” (p. 39). He furthermore told Eckkermann that it was school policy to discourage low-achieving Aboriginal students from continuing their schooling, once they reached 15 years of age. Eckermann (1977) concludes that the serious obstacles the Aboriginal students face in obtaining educational equality are not because of their alleged “disadvantage”

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or “deprivation” (p. 40). Rather, the problem is rooted, she maintains, in the nature of school itself—an institution which is designed for Australians (of English descent) of middle-class background. Furthermore, a major factor contributing to the school failure of the Aboriginal students rests in the deficit thinking mindset of the teachers in which they view the students as “slow learners” and “discipline problems.” With respect to improving education for Aboriginal students, Eckermann proposes: (a) differences must be valued as positive, not negative; (b) teacher education programs must provide training so that teachers know how to communicate, in the classroom, the importance of accepting cultural differences. The study by Lewthwaite et al. (2015) is an ambitious undertaking. The authors report the findings of the first part of a three-phase research projection in which the guiding question is: What do Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students and their parents state are the best practices of teachers that shape the students’ learning?14 Or, in short, what are the characteristics of effective teachers as deemed by the students and their parents? This study is especially valuable in that it draws, in part, from the tenet of CRT that underscores the centrality of experiential knowledge of people of color and the point that such knowledge is valid and indispensable for understanding racism via the lived experiences of marginalized groups. The authors note that their investigation is prompted by the reality of TAG in Australia, which, we have seen, is large and pervasive between Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. Lewthwaite et al. also state that an important impetus for the study is that the national discourse in Australia is dominated by discussion and research in teaching and teacher quality. The investigation was situated in the Diocese of Townsville Catholic Education schools in North Queensland. The participants included 37 G9-12 Aboriginal students in schools; the participants were asked questions via semistructured individual interviews. Also interviewed (in a group setting) were 16 G9-12 Aboriginal students from 4 schools. Finally, 27 Aboriginal parents and caregivers (some were Indigenous teachers) from 5 schools were subject to individual and group interviews. The results reported by Lewthwaite et al. (2015) are quite extensive. As such, I confine my discussion to highlights that focus on deficit thinking, as well as some points that parents and students voiced that speak to how teachers can be more effective. The authors first report findings for the parental interviews, and so will I. Based on these interviews the authors identified five themes—for example, parental theme one: “Understanding Our History with Education.” One parent commented: It is important to know and understand our history with education…It is an important history as it helps to understand how many parents and their children approach education today. For many, including my parents, it was not positive. School was not a welcoming place…. For every [Aboriginal] person there is that reservation—a mistrust with schools, and with teachers. (p. 139)

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This comment shows that the ramifications of the effects of colonial history, as voiced by the parents, have powerful resonance for them. As well, based on scholarship produced elsewhere, the importance of understanding the history of Indigenous peoples vis-à-vis their education has been noted (e.g., American Indian in the United States, First Nations in Canada, and Māori in New Zealand). Another theme that provides insights to the parents’ views about teacher effectiveness is parental theme four: “Wanting Teachers and Schools to Hold an Alternative Point of View of Indigenous Students and the Communities They Represent.” One parent, who thought it is important to know what the teachers think of her child, stated: Just to believe they are capable and not to ignore them. You really want [teachers] to give your child the best opportunity…Sometimes I think [teachers] have their mind made up right away…I think sometimes they say, just another [Aboriginal child] that will act up or have learning problems or be bad in the classroom. Just the way [the teacher] might think before they even have a chance. (p. 141) Another parent recalled that her parents had negative experiences with education. She said she picked up on that, and now she knows what it is like to not feel welcome in school. She continued: “When I was at school I never felt there was a teacher that was interested in me [as a learner]” (p. 142). Lewthwaite et al. (2015) summarize matters by noting that in most cases the parents—via their own experiences as students or second-hand accounts of what their children experienced—believed they were perceived as pathological or “lessor” or “not as capable” compared to learners who were non-Indigenous (p. 142). The authors continue by making this binary assertion: At the core of many schools’ belief systems is the assumption that the Western way and cultures are superior and Aboriginal life styles and culture are inferior, meaning that Aboriginal children allegedly bring deficits to the classroom. Lewthwaite et al. note that: “Such [deficit] thinking implies that not only are students’ background experience and knowledge of limited importance to promote learning, but so are their cultural foundations” (p. 142).15 On the matter of students’ views of what characterizes an effective teacher, a prominent theme (of seven) is student theme one: “Student Voices: Developing Positive Relationships are Crucial as a Foundation for Learning.” By contrast to parents’ primary focus on historical inequality, students emphasized their everyday experiences, in school and in the classroom. One student offered this commentary: “Every day she lets us know she is interested in us…In the class she’ll spend lots of time with you and not make a scene about it with the rest of the class. You feel welcome” (p. 144). Another student commented: “I think she is a good teacher because she gives you time. She’s not bossy…Everyone is

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important. No matter who you are. Then, this all shows in how we behave to each other, not just her” (p. 144). Lewthwaite et al. (2015) summarize the students’ responses by noting that the pupils heavily focused on their need to have positive classroom relationships where each student is viewed as important and is respected. The most frequently mentioned words the students used were “care,” “welcome,” and “relationship” (p. 144).

Teacher Education Mills and Keddie (2012) conducted a case study of one teacher’s perspectives of marginalized students. The participant, Elissa (pseudonym), was interviewed over a 3-year period while she was a student teacher and during the early stage of her teaching career. Initially, Mills and Keddie interviewed 24 secondary preservice teachers who were enrolled in an Australian metropolitan university. Of the 24, Elissa was selected as the sole participant in this longitudinal investigation. Elissa identified as middle-class, English-speaking, and AngloAustralian. She participated in five interviews over the course of the study. The authors sought to explore her views about: (a) what constitutes a “good” teacher; (b) the meaning of social justice, in theory and practice; (c) how social justice shaped her pedagogy. When she started her teaching career, Elissa obtained a job as a mathematics teacher in a secondary school that enrolled predominantly Lebanese Muslim students. Mills and Keddie (2012) comment that the results of the interviews over the 3-year span revealed that Elissa engaged in frequent deficit thinking directed toward cultural minority groups. Examples of such deficit thinking (p. 5, 8) are: • •

• •

How are they expected to learn English at the same level [compared to Australian English speakers?] It really annoys me. They [non-English-speaking students] are ‘too slow’ to understand Shakespeare [and] they should rather be supported to fill out forms and learn life skills. They [refugee students] don’t really care about education. They [Lebanese Muslim boys] can be rude and disrespectful….They speak [this way] to their parents at home and I guess that’s part of teaching them that this is not acceptable.

The authors, reflecting on Elissa’s deficit thinking views, notes that her perceptions of the students’ educability translates into lower expectations of them and providing non-challenging class work and home work for them. Another observation the authors note is a preoccupation of Elissa to “fix” the students’ putative deficits. Citing Chubbuck (2010); Mills and Keddie (2012) comment that this behavior of Elissa can be interpreted as a “savior” view of herself as an

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instructor. The authors state that this savior disposition was much more prevalent when Elissa was an incumbent teacher, in comparison when she was a preservice teacher. In sum, given her identity as a savior, Elissa perceived her role as an intervenor to instruct students in “more appropriate ways to live and behave in Australian society” (p. 7). In their conclusion, Mills and Keddie (2012) discuss how Elissa’s dangerous reductionism leads to a racialized binary, which juxtaposes “academic ability, normality, and civility [as the ideal] and inability, abnormality, and miscreant/ vulgar behavior [as pathology]” (p. 10). The authors also comment that Elissa’s deficit thinking discourses of blaming and pathologizing marginalized students detract from the examination of schooling/teaching practices and systemic inequalities in society that create barriers for school success for these students. On a final point, the authors state that in light of the lack of multicultural training in teacher training programs in Australia, such programs need complete redesign. This assertion is based on the fact that Elissa and her cohort peers passed a course on cultural diversity, but it appeared that it had little or no impact on interrupting Elissa’s deficit thinking. An excellent study that corroborates Mills and Keddie’s (2012) call for major reform in Australian teacher education programs is the study by HicklingHudson and McMeniman (1993). These latter authors assert that given the wide cultural diversity in Australia, it is imperative for preservice teachers to be exposed to multicultural training in order to be able to challenge racial discrimination in societal and educational contexts. To investigate the degree to which teacher educational institutions were meeting the goal of providing a multicultural curriculum for their students, Hickling-Hudson and McMeniman conducted a survey of 57 teacher education programs. The authors report that of the 34 programs that provided updated information, 7 (20.6%) have no specific subjects that focus on multiculturalism and 27 (79.4%) offer “specialist multicultural subject”—a misleading label. Of this total, 59 are elective courses and a relatively small number of students enroll in any of them; 34 of the courses are compulsory, and make only passing reference to multicultural issues. The authors state that these specialist subjects “appear, then, not to be valued highly enough to be included as core mandated aspects of teacher education throughout Australia….This suggests that many teacher education institutions have not moved beyond tokenism in education for cultural diversity” (p. 61). Based on their survey data, Hickling-Hudson and McMeniman (1993) provide a second analysis by conducting case studies of three teacher education programs. In this examination, which the authors refer to as “Teacher Education Case Studies: The Integrated Multicultural Approach Versus the Token Approach” (p. 62), they report findings from Programs A, B, and X. Program A offers a secondary education degree, consisting of seven specialist multicultural courses (three compulsory, four elective).16 Students taking these courses are

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exposed to, for example, (a) values clarification relating to, for instance, education in European and Aboriginal contexts; (b) resources for cross-cultural study; (c) the influence of White colonization on Aboriginal society and Aboriginal education.17 The authors comment that a major goal of Program A is the empowerment of Aboriginal people. With respect to Program B, its focus on multiculturalism is broader in scope and less geared to Aboriginal studies compared to Program A. Students need to enroll in eight compulsory courses that are of half-year duration. Hudson-Hicklick and McMeniman note that both Program A and B are atypical in that multicultural offerings permeate the total education degree. Regards to Program X, which the authors refer to as the “token” program and is the norm across teacher training programs in Australia, is located in a university area where Aborigines and Torres Straight Islanders constitute substantial numbers of the population. Also, the university has a fairly large enrollment of Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander students. The only specialist multicultural course (“Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander Culture”) is an elective. The authors conclude that teacher education programs must go beyond tokenism. Furthermore, they offer three suggestions for future study. First, the curriculum of teacher education programs should be further scrutinized, focusing on objectives and content. Second, there needs to be an examination of the percentage of Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander students in teacher education programs and how these programs are meeting their interests and needs. Third, there should be an assessment of the degree of encouragement and support provided to preservice teachers of color.

Language Dixon (2013), Sellwood and Angelo (2013), and Wigglesworth and Billington (2013)—in articles published in a special issue on linguistics in the Australian Review of Applied Linguistics—all note that in Australian government agencies a deficit thinking model has emerged vis-à-vis the language of Aboriginal students. In this perspective, Aboriginal languages are marginalized and seen as invisible in comparison to the norm—Standard Australian English (SAE). Sellwood and Angelo state that this invisibility discourse has roots in Cook’s declaration of Australia as being Terra Nullitis (a land of no people; see earlier discussion, present chapter). Wigglesworth and Billington point out that before colonization, Aborigines spoke over 250 distinct languages (with many multilingual speakers). Furthermore, the authors note that over the duration of 200 years an overwhelming number of Indigenous languages have suffered language death or have been lost. Today, there are approximately 20 traditional Indigenous languages children can learn as their mother tongue. In sum, this invisibility of Aboriginal languages has led to SAE-speaking children as the normative group “against which difference is problematised as deficit” (Dixon, p. 302). Sellwood

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and Angelo concur with this assertion, noting that the invisibility of non-SAE languages, spoken by numerous Australian Aboriginals, is resultant of a “monolingual mindset” and a “monoglot ideology” which views English monolingualism as the norm, or even the quintessential language. Another problem compounding the invisibility issue of Aboriginal languages has to do with how language of students is registered in Australia’s national academic achievement testing program, NAPLAN (this program is discussed earlier in the present chapter). Dixon and Angelo (2014) examined how 86 public and Catholic schools across Queensland handled language status data of students who took the NAPLAN. The authors report that the school system data were incomplete, illogical, and invisible regarding students’ home language and information as being English as an Additional Language/Dialect (EAL/D) learner.18 Also, the authors note that Aboriginal students deemed EAL/D cannot be disaggregated by school systems from their SAE peers. To sum, Dixon and Angelo comment that the multilingualism and EAL/D status of Aboriginal students were generally concealed. This invisibility narrative, the authors state, is “one of deficit [which brings] Indigenous students into this monolingual norm and filling them with what they are perceived to lack” (p. 229). The study by Alford (2014) reveals how deficit thinking manifests in actual classroom instruction. The author explores how four high school teachers of senior English view their EAL/D students for critical literacy. Two state high schools, Bacon and Riverdale (pseudonyms) in Queensland, served as the research sites. Beacon High, a suburban school, has an enrollment of low-SES students with large percentages of African students (e.g., Liberia) and Afghani refugee students. Riverdale High has an enrollment of students from a higherSES background and who hail from Asian and European countries (e.g., China and France, respectively). The four teachers (two at each school) were interviewed at each of four points across one school term. The questions focused on the teachers’ understanding of critical literacy and how they were implementing it with their EAL/D students. Drawing from Fairclough’s (2003) Critical Discourse Analysis, Alford (2014) reports that five discourses emerged from the analysis of the interviews. The author refers to the discourses as: (a) learner deficit in terms of “lack;” (b) learner deficit in terms of “needs” in relation to the demands of Australian senior high school; (c) learner difference as resources for learning; (d) learner difficulty with critical literacy; (e) general positive attributes, in particular, capacity for intellectual engagement with and through critical literacy. Examples of the deficit thinking discourse (a and b above; pp. 78–79), which were largely mentioned by the 2 teachers at Beacon High, are • •

“They’re from uneducated backgrounds.” “They need to understand and be given knowledge.”

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• •

• •

“Some don’t know how to behave in class.” “If they missed out on education,….they haven’t developed conceptual understandings in the way that students brought up in Australia have developed conceptual understandings.” “They don’t understand formal register for tertiary study [in college].” “They haven’t got the language to express critical literacy.”

Of the three other discourses reported by Alford (2014), which are deemed relatively positive and not problematic (c, d, and e), I confine my discussion to one—capacity for critical literacy, that is regarding EAL/D students’ cognitive capacity to utilize higher-order thinking when learning critical literacy. Examples of this discourse (p. 81) are: • •

“Well, hang on, they’re actually much better than that! [in reference to other teachers questioning the cognitive capacity of EAL/D students].” “I don’t think that it’s beyond them to learn how to write critically. I really think it’s achievable and accessible to them.”

Alford (2014) concludes by commenting that critical literacy can serve as a location for disrupting deficit thinking narratives: While a deficit view is present, counter-hegemonic discourses also exist in their talk. The combination of discourses challenges monolithic deficit views of English language learners, and opens up generative discursive territory to position English language learners in ways other than “problematic.” (p. 71) In their 2-year ethnographic investigation, Lowell and Devlin (1999), sought to examine classroom miscommunication between young Aboriginal students and their non-Aboriginal teachers in a bilingual school. The study was conducted in a remote Aboriginal community in Northeast Arnhem Land located in the Northern Territory. About 1,500 Aboriginal people, who referred to themselves as Yolngu, resided in the local community, as did approximately 50 non-Aboriginals, who the Yolngu referred to as Balanda. Thirty Yolngu students served as participants, and they were videotaped in the classroom for the duration of the study. The authors found that miscommunication between the students and the Balanda teachers was quite prevalent. Exacerbating these communication problems was that a large percentage of the children in the school had otitis media (an inner-ear infection) that typically results in a mild conductive hearing loss.19 The authors underscore that the teachers had difficulties in differentiating between cultural differences in communication and listening difficulties due to the students’ hearing loss.

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For instruction in the bilingual education program, Lowell and Devlin (1999) note that the Yolngu students’ mother tongue—Yolngu Matha, a family of languages spoken in the area—was used first for teaching, and English was introduced gradually and became the principle language of instruction by the last year of primary school. Give that the Balanda teachers were not fluent in Yolngu Matha, Yolngu teaching assistants were fairly active in classroom teaching (e.g., providing instruction; translating; code-switching). The authors found a number of miscommunication problems between the Yolngu students and the Balanda teachers. I limit my discussion to the major issue—which is concerned with listening and attention. Lowell and Devlin report that the students’ listening behavior was characterized by diminished visual attention to the speaker, reduced obligation for the student listener to reply quickly, or at all, and the students’ ability to process auditory information in more than one channel.20 These cultural differences in listening behavior the authors discuss were misinterpreted by the Balanda teachers —that is, in terms of confusion between difference and deficit. As such, this conclusion has the potential to lead to a deficit thinking perspective that young Yolngu learners are unable to think. The authors quote Yunupingu (1991, p. 102) on this issue of cognition, as well as the need to have a culturally relevant curriculum: Yolngu children have difficulty learning areas of Balanda knowledge, this is not because Yolngu cannot think, it is because the curriculum in the schools is not relevant for Yolngu children and often these curriculum documents are developed by Balanda teachers who are ethnocentric in their values. An appropriate curriculum for Yolngu is one that is located in the Aboriginal world which can enable children to cross over to the Balanda world. Lowell and Devlin (1999 conclude by offering a number of training suggestions for teachers working in Aboriginal schools, for example: 1. Develop an understanding of the characteristics of Aboriginal communication styles germane to specific locations in which non-Aboriginal teachers are working. 2. Learn how to distinguish between the difference of communication issues between Aboriginal students and their teachers, and one’s deficit thinking. 3. Be able to learn how to determine when an Aboriginal child has a hearing loss.

Developmental Assessment (Language and Intelligence) The doctoral dissertation by Gould (2009) is a comprehensive exploration between the interaction of deficit thinking and developmental assessment (language and intelligence) of young Aboriginal students in a rural Australian

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community. In light of the length of her dissertation (over 300 pages), I confine my discussion to highlights of her study. Gould’s 3-year longitudinal investigation examines how deficit thinking among teachers and personnel members of the local public elementary school pupils contributes to inappropriate assessments and inaccurate diagnoses of the language and intellectual abilities of Aboriginal students. These students’ home language is Aboriginal English (AE), which is closer to Creole, than it is to SAE.21 Nonetheless, all assessments were done in SAE, a violation of best-case practices when testing students whose first language is other than English (Valencia, 2008, chapter 3). A second violation of best-case practices was the administration of assessment instruments normed on majority group children and youth to culturally different children and youth, as this cultural loading can lead to cultural bias (Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, chapter 5). Gould skillfully shows how deficit thinking directed toward the Aboriginal students, their families, and community helped shape inappropriate assessments of the students, which led to overidentification of them as linguistically and intellectually impaired, and a disproportional placement of the students in special education classes. Gould (2009) conducted her study in the Aboriginal community of Bunya (pseudonym) located in a rural area in Queensland. The community was established in the 1900s by forced removals and evictions of Aborigines from their lands by the government. The author’s investigation spanned 3 years (2003–2005), and initially included 21 Aboriginal children attending the Bunya Public School (BPS); a small number of student participants were added as time passed. The children ranged in age from 3 to 6 years. The 3- and 4- year olds were enrolled in Kindy (kindergarten) and Preschool, and the 5- and 6-year olds were in the Year One classroom. SAE served as the language of instruction throughout. The instructional staff at BPS was split 50%-50% among White and Aboriginal teachers. An Aboriginal teaching aide worked in each classroom. For her data collection, Gould relied on unstructured interviews—with participant parents, Aboriginal community members, teachers, teacher aides, health center staff, non-Aboriginal speech pathologists, and assessment personnel. Data were also collected from questionnaires, examination of official documents, and participant observations. Also, given her training as a speech language pathologist, Gould conducted some speech and language assessments of the Aboriginal students. She visited Bunya 3 or times 4 a year, with visits lasting from 1 to 4 weeks. Each year, she spent about 7 or 8 weeks in Bunya. Before I discuss how deficit thinking by teachers contributed to the inappropriate assessment of the Aboriginal student’s linguistic and intellectual abilities, I digress for a moment and share the report of Johns (2006) who firmly frames the educational problems of Aboriginal students in a deficit thinking context. His focus is on Aboriginal students attending schools in remote communities in

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Australia. The Johns report, which was published about the same general time Gould (2009) was writing her dissertation, helps set the stage for understanding how Whites at BPS demonized the Aboriginal students, their families, and the Aboriginal community in Bunya. There are clear examples of the prevalence of deficit thinking seen in Johns (2006). He ignores the reality that structural inequalities in Australia negatively impact the education of Aboriginal students, yet he nonetheless comments: “Aboriginal children in remote communities have the lowest rates of success in school. The reasons for the lack of success are well known, and mainly lie outside of the schools and their programs” (p. 4). Regarding the “causes” that lie outside the schools, Johns points to, for example, “broken homes;” “lower expectations among Aboriginal students;” “absenteeism;” “crowding and disruption within households” (p. 10). He continues by noting another factor: “[There is] the absence of a work ethic among Aborigines who are welfare dependent” (p. 4). Johns further remarks: “Each of these causes locates the problem of failure outside of the school. None of these implies school resources per se as a cause of failure” (p. 10). On the curricular matter of multicultural education, Johns (2006) offers this strong opinion: Western education cannot and should not preserve Aboriginal culture. The moment a child walks into a classroom they change, so the idea of preserving of something that the child brings to the school is a forlorn hope. Moreover, the task of passing on culture properly rests with Aboriginal people. If they are unable to do so, the state has no business in taking its place. (p. 20) On the topic of the appropriate medium of instruction for Aboriginal students, Johns (2006) maintains: Many community schools have made the explicit decision that they do not want the school to teach anything other than English. Such a decision preserves a primary role for the community in teaching Aboriginal language and culture, and does not detract from the principle role of the school in teaching English literacy and numeracy. (p. 21) Regarding how deficit thinking helped shape the language assessment of the Aboriginal students at BPS, Gould (2009) comments that a number of White teachers and assessment personnel drew from a deficit thinking discourse to describe Bunya home language as “deficient” and “wrong” (p. 105). One teacher noted: “Their [the Aboriginal students’] speech is terrible. There are so many sounds they can’t say. The children just can’t seem to get their tongue around

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the sounds, they can’t say “th” or “h” (p. 107). Gould underscores that although Bunya AE syntactic constructions, sound patterns, word use, and morphology are linguistically different from ASE, non-Aboriginal staff viewed Bunya AE as deficient. As a case in point, the author notes that there are some words in SAE that regularly have medial and final clusters, but in Bunya AE child and adult speakers these constant clusters are absent. One teacher, however, “identified this naturally occurring language feature by [Bunya-speaking students] as a speech impairment other than a dialectical difference” (p. 111). In sum, Gould concludes that numerous Aboriginal students at BPS were misdiagnosed as having defective speech and language, when in reality it was not true. Thus, in terms of psychometric assessment terms, many students were deemed false positives. The second prong of Gould’s (2009) investigation has to do with how deficit thinking views of BPS teachers and assessment personnel contributed to the misappropriate assessment and diagnosis of Aboriginal students’ intellectual abilities, and erroneous placement of these students in Special Education Units (SEUs). The author found a considerable amount of intellectual assessment was carried out at BPS. Gould refers to this as “targeted IQ testing” (p. 210), meaning that teachers (who referred the students for testing) had preconceptions that some of the Aboriginal students were intellectually deficient. As such, these a priori beliefs about the students’ intellectual capabilities reinforced the teachers’ deficit thinking perceptions they had about the students, their families, and the Aboriginal community. In regard to the intelligence tests used in parts of Australia to see if a student is eligible for Intellectual Impairment placement, Gould (2009) notes that AE-speaking students are typically administered instruments based on SAE (a violation of best-case practices), which strongly increases the probability of resulting in a false positive diagnosis. At BPS the intelligence test administered was based on U.S. culture and normed on a sample of Standard American English-speakers, also a violation of best-case practices. This faulty assessment that occurred at BPS is not that unusual. From a cross-cultural, cross-national perspective, the reporting by Valencia (2008, chapter 3) has merit here for a short digression. He discusses the landmark special education legal case of Diana v. State Board of Education (1970), in which a group of 9 Mexican American Spanish-speaking elementary schoolchildren in California sued for inappropriate assessment, faulty diagnosis, and misplacement in a class for educable mental retardation (EMR). These students were initially tested in English with an intelligence test exclusively normed on a U.S. White, English-speaking sample. 22 An accredited school psychologist, who was a bilingual Mexican American, retested the students using a Spanish translation of the initial test and found that 7 (77.8%) of the 9 children had a Full Scale IQ higher than the IQ cut score (70) used for EMR placement. Plaintiffs’ attorneys eventually transformed Diana into a class action

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case, covering the whole state of California. Plaintiffs prevailed, and as a result, thousands of Mexican American and African American students in EMR classes were decertified and placed in regular classrooms. The impact of Diana, and similar cases (see Valencia, 2008, chapter 3), was immense in creating a national sea change in the United States in protecting the rights of children who were inappropriately diagnosed and placed in special education. Morse (2000) has identified Diana as one of “Ten Events That Shaped Special Education’s Century of Dramatic Change.” Gould (2009) reports that in regard to the Aboriginal students in her participant group, 27.6% (n = 8 one-year students) were diagnosed as having an Intellectual Impairment.23 This percentage is vastly higher than one would expect, as the rate of mental retardation is 2% to 3% in the general population of students. The 8 students diagnosed as having an Intellectual Impairment were placed in a SEU (three or four SEUs were operating at BPS). The author underscores that there was a lack of transparency in the diagnostic reports for those students deemed Intellectual Impaired. Neither the students’ home language nor their Aboriginal culture were noted on the assessment reports as possible competing explanations for the students’ low scores on the intelligence test. Furthermore, there was evidence that IQ scores were manipulated. The IQ cut score for a diagnosis of Intellectual Impairment is 70. Yet, 5 of the 8 students (62.5%) identified as having an intellectual disability had an IQ score of greater than 70, including some students with a score as high as 75. A major motivating factor for excessive intelligence testing and eventual SEU placement of students at BPS, Gould discovered, was the goal of seeking additional funds for the school, particularly to use for class size reduction. It was clear that some members of the Bunya community were aware of this motivation. Aunty Joyce (pseudonym), an Elder, remarked: I am extremely concerned about the way teachers seem to place so many under the special need label at the school. Is this done for the children’s benefit or just for the funding? Why are there so many special needs classes at this school? And why are there so many special needs children all of a sudden? Why are children labeled as students who are in need of special needs when I do not believe they are? (p. 213) Furthermore, it was clear to some Bunya community members that they were cognizant of the negative consequences of Aboriginal students being stigmatized resultant of their Intellectual Impairment diagnosis and their subsequent placement in a SEU. Uncle Fred (pseudonym), an Elder, maintained: They [the children] go to high school from being in special ed [at BPS] and then they won’t face their friends so they drop out of school. They’re

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being branded and isolated. There are effects on the parents to have II [Intellectually Impaired] kids, the parents have to fight for their kids. This creates confusion, shame and upset. (p. 282) Gould (2009) concludes her dissertation noting that the dominant and powerful deficit thinking by BPS teachers and assessment personnel directed toward the Aboriginal students, their families, and the Bunya community vastly contributes to the implementation of the misguided testing process that assesses the linguistic and intellectual abilities of the students. The repercussions of such inappropriate assessments have not only resulted in harm to the children, but also vis-á-vis the Bunya community as a whole via widespread deficit thinking. Finally, Gould rightfully comments on the nature of systemic culpability: “The failure of the department of education personnel to enforce their own recommendations regarding best practice in the assessment of Aboriginal students has been complicit in allowing these injustices to occur” (p. 288).

Notes 1 Mabo/Terra Nullius/Terra Nullius defined. Retrieved January 21, 2018 from www. mabonativetitle.com/tn_01.shtml. 2 Australia frontier wars–Wikipedia. Retrieved January 21, 2018 from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_frontier_wars. 3 States and territories of Australia–Wikipedia. Retrieved January 22, 2018 from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/States_and_territories_of_Australia. 4 Demography of Australia–Wikipedia. Retrieved January 22, 2018 from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demography_of_Australia. 5 Australian demographic statistics–Australian Bureau of Statistics. Retrieved January 20, 2018 from www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/[email protected]/mf/3101.0. 6 In most of the literature I located on Australia, Aborigine is used as a noun and Aboriginal is used as an adjective. 7 Ethnic background of Australians–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved January 19, 2018 from https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/ethnic-background-of-australians.html. 8 This text on social Darwinism builds on, with revisions,Valencia (1997, p. 97, note 3). 9 This allegation that half-castes are more educable (i.e., brighter) than full-blood Aborigines is derived from the mulatto hypothesis, which asserts that measured intelligence in people of color (e.g., Aborigines; African Americans) increases in proportion to the amount of White blood quantum they have. For a discussion of why the mulatto hypothesis is a myth, see Helms (2017). For a critique of the mulatto hypothesis with respect to African American, American Indians, and Mexican Americans, see Valencia (1997, pp. 50–52). 10 “Retarded” here refers to pedagogical retardation, which has to do with a student who is overage for a particular grade (see Valencia, 1997, p. 100, note 28). 11 In Australia, “year” is used for “grade.” For ease of communication, I use “grade” here. 12 Based on 2014 estimates, the Indigenous population in the Northern Territory comprised 29.7% of the total population and numbered 72,251 people. In New South Wales, the Indigenous population was 220,902 and comprised 2.9% of the total population. Source:What do we know about the indigenous population? Retrieved January 26, 2018 from www.healthinfonet.ecu.edu.au/health-facts/health-faqs/aboriginal-population.

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13 For her trend analysis, Ford (2013) used the results of the Multi-Level Assessment Program (precursor of NAPLAN) for years 2001 to 2007. 14 Two points are noteworthy here. First, in phases two and three of the project, Lewthwaite et al. (2015), based on phase one findings of the present investigation, plan to test the findings through teacher implementation. See Lewthwaite et al. (pp. 150–153) for their presentation of a framework for a cultural responsive pedagogy. Second, although Torres Straight Islander students and parents are part of the larger project, they did not participate in the Lewthwaite et al. study. 15 For further research on teachers’ deficit thinking views of Aboriginal students, see: Buxton (2017); Craven et al. (2016); Lloyd, Lewthwaite, Osborne, and Boon (2015). 16 Program A also offers a 3-year Bachelor of Teaching degree (primary and early childhood). Students take four core compulsory and three elective subjects, all with a multicultural focus. 17 For example, this is a course titled “Aboriginal Education: Historical Perspectives.” It covers, for instance, colonialism, Christian missions, and the influence of “scientific” theories of race. 18 Alford (2014) notes that EAL/D is an acronym used in Australia in reference to students whose mother tongue is other than SAE and are learning SAE as a second language or dialect. In the United States, the counterpart term is English language learner (ELL) or English Learner (EL). 19 Lowell and Devlin (1999), citing Boswell, Leach, Nienhuys, Kemp, and Matthews (1993), comment that the majority of Australian Aboriginal children have persistent otitis media. 20 Lowell and Devlin (1999) state that this finding has also been reported by, for example, Kearins (1985) and Webber (1978), cited in Lowell and Devlin (1999). 21 Wigglesworth and Billington (2013) note that Creole is a fully-fledged language that incorporates elements from the language of the colonizer and the Indigenous language. 22 This test is the Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children (Wechsler, 1949). 23 Gould (2009) discovered that many BPS teachers and assessment staff claimed that a major reason for the high identification rate of Intellectual Impairment was biological in nature. That is, many BPS staff maintained that the Aboriginal mothers drank alcohol heavily during pregnancy, which resulted in Foetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD) and can lead to intellectual disabilities in the offspring. Gould comments: “It remains unlikely that any Bunya children have presently been adequately assessed or diagnosed as presenting with FASD” (p. 194).

References Alford, J. H. (2014). “Well, hang on, they’re actually much better than that!”: Disrupting dominant discourses of deficit thinking about language learners in senior high school English. English Teaching: Practice and Critique, 13, 71–88. Retrieved February 10, 2018 from http://education.waikato.ac.nz/research/files/etpc/files/2014v13n3art4.pdf. Armstrong, M. (2004). Aborigines: Problems of race and class. Class and Struggle in Australia Seminar Series. Canberry, Australia. Retrieved January 18, 2018 from https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/bitstream/1885/42696/2/Aborigines.pdf. Beckenham, P. W. (1948). The education of the Australian Aborigine. Melbourne, Australia: Australian Council for Educational Research. Boswell, J., Leach, A., Nienhuys, T., Kemp, K., & Matthews, J. (1993). Persistent otitis media in a cohort of Aboriginal infants. What, how and why [abstract]. Australian Journal of Audiology, 15, (suppl, April), 36.

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Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, 347 U.S. 483 (1954), supp. op., 349 U.S. 294 (1955). Buxton, L. (2017). Ditching deficit thinking: Changing to a culture of high expectations. Issues in Educational Research, 27, 198–214. Retrieved February 1, 2018 from www.iier. org.au/iier27/buxton.html. Campbell, C., & Proctor, H. (2014). A history of Australian schooling. Sydney, Australia: Allen & Unwin. Chubbuck, S. (2010). Individual and structural orientations in socially just teaching: Conceptualization, implementation, and collaborative effort. Journal of Teacher Education, 61, 197–210. Craven, R. G., Ryan, R. M., Mooney, J., Vallerand, R. J., Dillon, A., Blacklock, F., & Magson, N. (2016). Towards a positive psychology of indigenous thriving and reciprocal research partnership model. Contemporary Educational Psychology, 47, 32–43. https://doi. org/10.1016/j.cedpsych.2016.04.003. Degler, C. N. (1991). In search of human nature:The decline and revival of Darwinism in American social thought. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Diana v. State Board of Education, Civil Action No. C-70-37 (N.D. Cal. filed, (January 7, 1970). Dixon, S. (2013). Educational failure or success: Aboriginal children’s non-standard English utterances. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics, 36, 302–315. Retrieved December 1, 2017 from DOI: 10.1075/aral.36.3.05dix.3. Dixon, S., & Angelo, D. (2014). Dodgy data, language invisibility and implications for social inclusion: A critical analysis of indigenous student language data in Queensland schools. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics, 37, 213–233. Retrieved February 15, 2018 from https://eric.ed.gov/?id=EJ1047229. Duncan, T. T. (1959). The education of children of Aboriginal descent. In Proceedings of Conference on N.S.W. Aboriginals. University of New England, Australia: Department of Adult Education. Eckermann, A. K. (1977). The teacher won’t teach me! The Aboriginal Child in School, 5, 35–41. Fairclough, N. (2013). Analyzing discourse and text: Textual analysis for social research. London, England: Routledge. Ford, M. (2013). Achievement gaps in Australia: What NAPLAN reveals about education inequality in Australia. Race Ethnicity and Education, 16, 80–102. DOI: 1080/13613324.2011.645570. Gillborn, D. (2008). Racism and education: Coincidence or conspiracy? London, England: Routledge. Gould, J. (2009). The interaction between developmental assessment, deficit thinking and home language in the education of Aboriginal children: A community case study, Unpublished doctoral dissertation. University of South Australia, Research Centre for Languages and Cultures. Green, N. (1982). The classroom teacher’s influence on the academic performance of Aboriginal children. In J. Sherwood (Ed.), Aboriginal education: Issues and innovations (pp. 107–126). North Perth, Australia: Creative Research. Helms, J. E. (2017). Counseling of Black women: Understanding the effects of multilevel invisibility. In M. Kopalka & M. Keitel (Eds.), Handbook of counseling women (2nd ed., pp. 219–233). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

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Hickling-Hudson, A., & McMeniman, M. (1993). Beyond tokenism: Multiculturalism and teacher education in Australia. In G.K. Verma (Ed.), Inequality and teacher education: An international perspective (pp. 58–69). London, England: Falmer Press. Johns, G. (2006). Aboriginal education: Remote schools and the real economy. Alice Springs, North Territory, Australia: The Menzies Research Centre. Retrieved February 15, 2018 from https://www.com.au/resources/rao/aboriginal-education-remoteschools-and-the-economy. Kearins, J. (1985). Cross cultural misunderstandings in education. In J. Pride (Ed.), Cross cultural encounters: Communication and miscommunication (pp. 65–80). Melbourne, Australia: River Seine. Lewthwaite, B. E., Osborne, B., Lloyd, N., Boon, H., Llewellyn, L., Webber, T., Wills, J. (2015). Seeking a pedagogy of difference: What Aboriginal students and their parents in North Queensland say about teaching and their learning. Australian Journal of Teacher Education (Online), 40(5), http://dx.doi.org/10.14221/ajte.2015v40n5.8. Lloyd, N. J., Lewthwaite, B. E., Osborne, B., & Boon, H. J. (2015). Effective teaching practices for Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander students: A review of the literature. Australian Journal of Teacher Education, 40. http://dx.doi.org/10.14221/ajte.2015v40n11.1. Lowell, A., & Devlin, B. (1999). Miscommunication between Aboriginal students and their non-Aboriginal teachers in a bilingual school. In S. May (Ed.), Indigenous community-based education (pp. 137–159). Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Ltd. McConnochie, K. R. (1982). Aborigines and Australian education: Historical perspectives. In J. Sherwood (Ed.), Aboriginal education: Issues and innovations (pp. 18–32). North Perth, Australia: Creative Research. Mills, C., & Keddie, A. (2012). “Fixing” student deficit in context of diversity: Another cautionary tale for preservice teacher education. International Journal of Pedagogies and Learning, 7(1). Retrieved January 22, 2018 from https://doi.org/10.5172/ijpl.2012.7.1.9. Morse, T. E. (2000). Ten events that shaped special education’s century of dramatic change. International Journal of Educational Reform, 9, 32–38. Ober, R. (2009). Both ways: Learning from yesterday, celebrating today, strengthening tomorrow. Australian Journal of Indigenous Education, 38, 34–39. Phelan, S. (1964). A survey of Aboriginal children in New South Wales secondary schools. N.S.W. Teachers’ Federation. Raphael, B., Swan, P., & Martinek, N. (1998). Intergenerational aspect of trauma for Australian Aboriginal people. In Y. Danieli (Ed.), International handbook of multigenerational legacies of trauma (pp. 327–338). New York, NY: Plenum Press. Rowley, C. D. (1970). The destruction of Aboriginal society. Canberra, Australia: A.N.U. Press. Sellwood, J., & Angelo, D. (2013). Everywhere and nowhere: Invisibility of Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islander contact languages in education and Indigenous language contexts. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics, 36, 250–266. Retrieved December 1, 2017. Valencia, R. R. (1997). Genetic pathology model of deficit thinking. In. R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy (pp. 41–112). London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York, NY: New York University Press. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge.

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Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Webber, D. (1978). Interpersonal behavior in relation to Aboriginal programs. Australian Journal of Social Issues, 13, 61–72. Wechsler, D. (1949). Manual for the Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children. New York, NY: Psychological Corporation. http://www.nia.gov.au/openpublish/index.php/aral/issue/ views/261. Wigglesworth, G., & Billington, R. (2013). Teaching creole-speaking children: Issues, concerns and resolutions for the classroom. Australian Review of Applied Linguistics, 36, 234–249. Retrieved December 1, 2017. Yunupingu, B. (1991). A plan for Ganna research. In B. Wei, D. Nayin, Y. Rom, N. Nginingawula, & Ngawurranugurumagi (Eds.), Aboriginal pedagogy: Aboriginal teachers speak out (pp. 98–106). Geelong, Australia: Deakin University Press.

6 NEW ZEALAND (FIJI)

In this chapter, I discuss educational thought and practice of deficit thinking in New Zealand—referred to as Aotearoa (“land of the long white cloud”) by the Indigenous people. New Zealand is an island country situated about 900 miles east of Australia. Two main landmasses form New Zealand, the North Island (Te Ika-a-Maui), and the South Island (Te Waipounamu), and about 600 smaller islands.1 In my discussion of New Zealand, I cover: (a) conquest and colonization of New Zealand; (b) early education in New Zealand; (c) ethnic demographic profile; (d) TAG; (e) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization of New Zealand It is estimated that between 1250 and 1300 AD, Polynesians arrived and settled in the islands, which were subsequently named New Zealand.2 A Dutch explorer and cartographer, Abel Tasman, was the first European to arrive in New Zealand—in 1642. He named the country “Nieuw Zeeland.”3 A span of 127 years would lapse before there was contact between the Indigenous Māori and other Europeans. In 1769, British explorer Captain James Cook arrived in Poverty Bay (the French arrived shortly after). Around 1810, Christian missionaries arrived in New Zealand to begin “God’s work” with the Māori.4 Notwithstanding that there were various missionary sects, most of these religious converters held deficit thinking views of the Māori people—for example, the Māori had “savage” beliefs, but such sentiments—it was maintained—could be overcome by the missionaries pursuing assimilationist policies and practices in a paternalistic manner. The missionaries were only somewhat successful in their conversion goals, as the Māori people actively resisted full assimilation (Bishop, 2005a).

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On February 6, 1840, a major event occurred in regards to ethnic relationships in New Zealand. Over 500 M āori leaders, representing members of their subtribes, and representatives of the British Crown signed the Treaty of Waitangi. The goal of the treaty, purportedly, was to establish a new nation in which the M āori people were assured full participation in the new society that would follow, sovereignty, and their right to control their cultural and physical resources. In exchange for signing the treaty, the British Crown was provided the right to settle and reside in New Zealand and the right to govern. Subsequent colonial governments, however, interpreted the treaty as a signal that the M āori people were granting a cessation of self-determination. As such, a colonial discourse of domination, including warfare against the Māori, followed the signing of the treaty (Bishop, 2005a). Other scholars have written in detail how colonization of the M āori by the dominant Pakeha group5 via deficit thinking and pathologization have created a massive, entrenched social structure in which the binary of Pakeha superiority and M āori inferiority controlled colonial discourse.6 The impact of this colonization has certainly had negative consequences on the Māori in contemporary times. As a case in point, Ajwani, Blakely, Robson, Tobias, and Bonne (2003, cited in Nairn, Pega, McCreanor, Rankine, & Barnes, 2006) report health disparities data from 1980 to 1999 in New Zealand. The authors note, for example, that rates of diabetes, cancers, suicides, and accidents were significantly higher for Māori people than for non-Māori people— frequently by margins larger than 100%. Also, Ajwani et al. report that the Pakeha had higher life expectancies compared to their Māori counterparts.

Early Education in New Zealand Bishop (2005a) provides a historical and contemporary analysis of four ways how the Pakeha cemented their hegemony in New Zealand via the pathologizing of the Māori students, their families, and culture through the system of formal schooling. In the interest of space, I limit my discussion to three of the methods. First, there was the two-tier educational system—a superior one for the Pakeha, an inferior one for the Māori. The justification for racially segregated schooling for the Māori students (which lasted from 1876 to 1969) was the belief that these children and youth lacked the intellectual abilities to be successful in an integrated school system.7 Native Schools for Māori students (mostly in rural areas) were established by the Education Act of 1867. The designers of the Native Schools, Bishop (2005a) comments, used the precept that Māori students “were not capable of abstract thinking or a full education and [it was better for them] to be trained for manual work” (p. 63). This allegation of limited educability and proposed intervention vis-à-vis Māori students is strikingly similar to what psychologist Louis Terman, father of the intelligence testing movement

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in the United States, stated in 1916 regarding Blacks, Mexican American, and American Indian children (see chapter 1, current volume).8 The limited curriculum provided to Māori students focused on manual dexterity, hygiene, and health. English was the medium of instruction, and for those Māori students who were caught speaking Māori language on school grounds, they were frequently punished by corporal means.9 Such language suppression had demonstrative consequences for the maintenance of the Māori language.10 In sum, Bishop (2005a) comments that the pathologizing of the Māori students in Native schools via deficit thinking had far-reaching repercussions, as Māori students experienced very low rates of matriculation to higher education and restricted opportunities for upward mobility in the economic sector. A second way in which deficit thinking pathologized Māori students via the early educational system had to do with their movement into mainstream schools. Bishop (2005a) points out that in the 1950s the Māori diaspora to the cities in New Zealand was one of the fastest urbanization movements in world history. Precipitated by land loss, the annihilation of young Māori men in WWII, and tribal breakdowns, Māori children and youth were now faced with the reality that they had to enroll in mainstream schools. Unfortunately for the Māori students, the schools were Pakeha centric where the covert values, language, and attitudes about education were the status quo and thus privileged the dominant Pakeha majority and thwarted the school success for Māori students. Schooling conflicts arose and escalated between values, for example, individual achievement (Pakeha orientation) and interdependence (Māori orientation). In light of the Pakeha monolingual, monocultural dominance of education, the Māori students found that their culture was not acceptable, belittled, and excluded. Bishop (2005a) discusses how this Pakeha preeminence of education led many Māori students to experience frustration, engage in questionable behavior, and develop a lack of motivation to achieve. In turn, these students did poorly in their academic achievement. In the context of the self-fullfiling prophecy, the teacher’s deficit thinking perceptions of the Māori students became reinforced.11 A third example Bishop (2005a) discusses in which the early schools pathologized Māori students was by the use of racist textbooks. He notes that prior to 1926, most of the New Zealand school textbooks were produced in England and fostered an ultra-Eurocentric viewpoint of the world. For example, in The World and Its People (1912), designed to be a tour of the British colonies, of the 408 pages in the book only one paragraph was devoted to the Māori. They were portrayed, Bishop (2005a) notes, as “happy-go-lucky, frivolous, and primitive” (p. 66). Also, in this same paragraph, the author wrote: “For a time, it was thought they would gradually die out, but during recent years the rate of disease has been checked, and at present time there is no danger of their disappearance” (p. 411; quote is in Bishop [2005a], p. 66). In another textbook, Our Nation’s Story (1926), which was published in New Zealand and used until the 1950s,

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there was the intentional marginalization of Māori people by excluding their voices from telling the story of Aotearoa. Also, of the 29 total chapters in the book, 3 were devoted to the Māori people. Still yet, an insult to the Māori was blatant in these chapters, as “the Moari” (sic) was misspelled. In a later textbook, The Cultures Collide (Woodcock, 1988), the author focused on the period of 1769 to 1840. Bishop (2005a) remarks that Woodstock advances a portrait of “savergy, and filthy living conditions” (p. 67) in describing the Māori. As well, Bishop (2005a) notes that the textbook continues the practice of the previous books by painting an image of Māori as “simple, barbaric people in need of civilization” (p. 67). Bishop (2005a) concludes, drawing from Osterhammel (1997), that these textbooks, notwithstanding counternarratives, represents “the continued construction of the ‘Other’… [and] is fundamental to the perpetuation of the colonialist discourse” (p. 68).

Ethnic Demographic Profile New Zealand consists of 16 regions (e.g., North Island: Auckland; Hawke’s Bay; South Island: Canterbury; Otago)12 and 53 districts (e.g., North Island: Taranaki; Wellington; South Island: Southland; West Coast).13 The various regions and districts have elected officials. New Zealand is a constitutional monarchy controlled by a parliamentary structure of government, consisting of three branches—the Parliament (legislature), the Executive branch (comprised by the Ministers of the Crown), and the Judiciary.14 The population size of New Zealand, based on the 2013 Census, is 4,382,598. The ethnic breakdown is as follows: European (74.0%); Māori (14.9%); Asian (11.8%); Pacific (7.4%, e.g., Tongan, Samoan); other (1.2%). These percentages total more than 100%, as some citizens (mostly Māori) identified with more than one ethnic group. English (96.1% speakers of the population) and te reo Māori (3.7% speakers of the population) are official languages.15

TAG TAG in New Zealand manifests in a number of indices. Māori students, in comparison to their Pakeha counterparts, have: (a) higher rates of poor academic achievement (e.g., reading); (b) higher rates of school suspensions; (c) overrepresentation rates in special education programs for students with behavioral issues; (d) lower rates of preschool enrollment; (e) overrepresentation rates in low-stream classes;16 (f ) overrepresentation rates in vocational curriculum classes; (g) higher rates of dropping out of secondary schools; (h) lower enrollment rates in tertiary (i.e., college or university) education (Bishop & Berryman, 2010, pp. 184–185, note 3).17 Nakhid (2003a) points out that there is very limited literature (including TAG data) on Pasifika (Pacific Islander) students in New Zealand schools.18 She reports that based on 2001 data on TAG, Pasifika students comprised 8% of the

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total high school population, but only 4.7% of them finished school with an A or B grade average—compared to 18.4% of the total high school group. Of students leaving school with no formal qualifications, 24.8% were Pasifika in comparison to 17% of the total high school sector. Furthermore, in regard to college matriculation rates, Pasifika students had disproportionately low rates of 4.2% of all enrolled students and a 1.9% representation in postgraduate school (Nakhid, 2003a). Later, I return to her study, in which she discusses the degree of deficit thinking views held by teachers of Pasifika students. In another, more recent study of TAG in New Zealand, Provost (2012) presents data showing the estimated percentages of students staying enrolled in school for each of seven consecutive years (2002–2008). In 2008, the percentage for Māori students (age 17.5 years) was 40.0%, compared to 62.3% for the total group (age 17.5 years; see p. 20, Figure 6). Provost also provides cross-ethnic achievement data based on mathematics (see p. 21, Figure 7) and reading (see p. 22, Figure 8) for 90,000 students in each test administration. For the mathematics achievement test results, the descending order of results showed the following: Asian, Pakeha, Māori, and Pasifika. Regarding the reading achievement test results, the descending order was: Asian, Pakeha, Pasifika, and Māori. Stated in another way, the results for both tests for the aggregate showed very similar distributions (normal curves), but the distributions for the Māori and Pasifika groups had positive skews—meaning that these students’ scores were primarily located in the lower range. Provost comments that in the late 1980s and 1990s, the dominant view proffered by the government to help explain the lower achievement of Māori students was deficit thinking. “Researchers have noted that this can lead to educators thinking that problems lie with the student, not the teacher or the system” (p. 15). The reduction of TAG in New Zealand must be treated as an imperative. The projection is that by 2041, the majority of students in New Zealand primary schools will consist of Māori and Pasifika students (Samu, 2006; cited in Atkinson, 2013). The educational implication here is alarmingly clear. If there is not a concomitant commitment to educational equality for Māori and Pasifika students along with their large increase in primary schools, then school success for these students does not bode well. Now is the time for informed action in New Zealand.

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice The deficit thinking literature germane to New Zealand informs us that this pathologizing thought and practice manifests in a variety of themes: (a) teachers; (b) curriculum differentiation; (c) language; (d) parental involvement; (e) higher education.

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Teachers The study by Rubie-Davis, Hattie, and Hamilton (2006) is an ambitious one in that the authors sought to examine teacher expectations of students’ achievement and then compare them to students’ actual achievement.19 The authors begin by discussing that teacher expectations can be characterized in two ways: (a) there are self-fulfilling prophecy effects in which achievement outcomes may be negative (Golen effects), resultant of low teacher expectations that stymie student achievement; (b) by contrast, there are self-fulfilling prophecy effects in which achievement outcomes can be positive (Galatea effects); they come about by teachers having high expectations that help promote student achievement. Another type of teacher expectation effect is known as the sustaining expectation effect. It occurs when teachers continue to interact with students in ways that are aligned with teachers’ beliefs that students have established patterns of achievement, and thus teachers interact with students accordingly. In this case, teachers fail to see any academic growth exhibited by students. Put more directly, a sustaining expectation effect “occurs when student performance is maintained at a certain level because teachers don’t recognize improvement” (Woolfolk, Winne, Perry, & Shapka, 2009, p. 460). Rubie-Davis et al. (2006) note that research on teacher expectation effects has examined a number of independent variables (e.g., sex; SES; attractiveness; language; age). In the present study, the authors explored the variable of student ethnicity. The participants included 21 primary schools in which 21 teachers taught Year 1 and/or 2 (n = 10 teachers) and Year 5 and/or 6 (n = 11 teachers). The number and percentage of the ethnicity of the 21 teachers varied, respectively, as follows: Pakeha (10, 47.6%); European British immigrants (4, 19.1%); Pasifika (3, 14.3%); Asian (southeast and the Indian subcontinent (2, 9.5%); M āori (2, 9.5%). Regarding student participants, there were 540 in total. The ethnic breakdown (number and percentage) is as follows: Pakeha (261, 48.3%); Pasifika (97, 18.1%);20 Asian (94, 17.4%); M āori (88, 16.3%). Of the 21 schools, 12 (57.1%) were deemed low SES and 9 (42.9%) were considered high SES. The Pakeha students were more often represented in the high-SES schools, and the Pasifika and M āori students were more frequently located in the low-SES schools. One month after the beginning of the study, the participant teachers completed the first of two surveys. They were asked to state what achievement levels they expected their students to attain in reading by year’s end. A second survey asked the teachers to provide judgments of their students’ actual reading achievement. These actual reading scores were collected at the beginning and the end of the school year. In both surveys, a 7-point Likert scale was used (e.g., 1 = very much above average; 4 = average; 7 = very much below average).

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The results showed that the teachers’ expectations for their students for end of year estimates (survey no. 1), compared to actual reading achievement at the beginning of the year, were higher for all ethnic groups—except for the Māori students. This same finding was present for survey no. 2 data. In sum, Rubie-Davis et al. (2006) conclude: The results have “shown that ethnicity may be a factor in teachers’ expectations independent of social class and student achievement. Teachers had expectations for Māori students’ achievement in reading that were below their expectations for other ethnic groups” (p. 439). The authors comment that one likely explanation for the findings may be that the teachers were adhering to deficit thinking views, and societal stereotypes of Māori people were a driving force (e.g., Māori parents do not value education and thus fail to socialize their children for academic competence; Māori students have low achievement motivation). On the subject of social psychological interpretations of the findings, Rubie-Davis et al. (2006) note that the Pakeha, Pasifika, and Asian students benefited from the positive effect (Galatea) of the self-fulfilling prophecy, and the M āori students were subject to the non-beneficial sustaining expectation effect. The authors conclude that the results of their investigation have clear implications for practicing teachers and students in teacher education programs. I concur. See my “Final Thoughts” section at the end of the present volume. In an older, but important study, St. George (1983) examined teacher expectations of academic achievement and classroom behavior of Pakeha and Polynesian students (Māori and Pasifika). The author notes that Māori students, in particular, have been of considerable interest by researchers who seek to investigate factors related to these students’ typically low academic performance. St. George comments that scholars have identified a number of deficit thinking views that have been advanced to explain this low achievement of Māori students (e.g., dysfunctional home environment; parental failure to value education; intellectual and linguistic deficits in children). She also points out that teachers’ low expectations and their likely connection to Māori students’ poor achievement have been a research concern—which is the focus of her study. The participating schools included 5 standard G3 classrooms (9-year-old students) located in 4 urban primary schools. The participating students totaled 90, including 67 Pakeha (74.4%), 20 M ā ori (22.2%), and 3 Pacific Island (3.3%). St. George (1983) referred to the M ā ori and Pacific Island students as Polynesian, as a group. All schools enrolled about 25% Polynesian students. Regarding the classrooms, they were non-streamed and each taught by a single teacher (one identifying as M ā ori). At the early part of the school year, each of the five teachers made a class ranking of his/her students based on a judgment of their general ability. In turn, St. George formed three

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groups for each of the 5 classes. The groups were: high expectations; middle expectations; low expectations. Each group had 3 boys and 3 girls. As such, there were 18 participant students in each of the 5 classrooms, totaling an N of 90. Regarding data collection, St. George (1983) administered three measures. First, for information on teacher-student interactions, she used a well-known observation system of dyadic interactions. Second, she administered two academic achievement instruments. One test, a nationally normed (New Zealand) instrument, which measured, for example, reading vocabulary and reading comprehension, was administered early in the school year. The other achievement measure, administered at the end of the school year, was a teacher’s evaluation of student achievement. Teachers, using a 5-point scale (e.g., excellent to unsatisfactory) rated his/her students in seven subject areas (e.g., written language; mathematics; social studies). Third, to measure teachers’ perceptions of each pupil’s attributes, a rating was done of 15 behaviors (e.g., perseverance; task concentration; parent attitudes; use of English; relations with classmates).21 The rating scale was from 1 (negative end) to 7 (positive end). St. George (1983) reports several key findings. First, regarding teacher expectations, 26 (38.8%) of the 67 Pakeha students fell in the high expectations group, while only 4 (17.4%) of the 23 Polynesian students did. Similar percentages, respectively, held for the middle expectations group. For the low expectations group, 17 (25.4%) of the 67 Pakeha students fell in this category while 13 (56.5%) of the 23 Polynesian students did. Second, regards to classroom interactions, the ethnicity of the students (Pakeha or Polynesian) had no effect on the patterns of dyadic teachers-pupil interactions. Third, with respect to teachers’ ratings of their pupils’ attributes, of the 15 attributes rated (e.g., perseverance; task concentration; independence; home environment), 9 (60.0%) were found to be statistically significant (range from p = .05 to p = .001) favoring the Pakeha students. This is, as St. George summarizes: “The Polynesian minority group students were perceived less favorably than the Pakeha majority on dimensions reflecting parent-home factors and academic work skills” (p. 48). In her discussion of the results, St. George (1983) points out that the teachers were relying on deficit thinking (via stereotypes), for example, in regard to the parents of the Polynesian students, as in many instances the teachers had not met the parents or made visits to their homes. From a sociocultural perspective, one can explain, in part, the teachers’ deficit thinking views of the Polynesian parents and their children by way of fundamental attribution error (see chapter 1, present volume). That is, the teachers were attributing the behavior of the parents and their children to “dispositional” factors (i.e., internal to a person) more so than to “situational” factors (external to a person). The fundamental attribution error arises when an individual person, in the process of looking

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for causality, highly underestimates situational factors (Ross & Nisbett, 1991). St. George concludes: The low achievement of minority group students should not be confused with a low ability to achieve, for this may only serve to divert energies away from developing more effective methods of instruction for these students…. Hopefully, teachers will be encouraged to draw upon and react to positive aspects of… [individual] differences in ways which will result in greater similarity in level of interests, efforts and positive self-regard in all children. In this way the cycle of maintaining the status quo of low minority achievement may begin to be broken. (pp. 57–58)

Curriculum Differentiation The research goal of Simon (1993) was to examine curriculum differentiation at Nikau High School (pseudonym), a large public secondary school located on the outskirts of Auckland, New Zealand. Specifically, the author sought to explore the nature and implications of “broadbanding” at Nikau High School (NHS), a curricular policy of sorting students into homogenous classes based on measured/perceived ability. Simon notes that broadbanding, similar to streaming in New Zealand and England (and tracking in the United States), is more acceptable to NHS staff because it lessens the chances students will be labeled— although this is a questionable assumption. The authors selected NHS as the participant school because it enrolled an ample number of Māori students,22 a group that is clearly affected by lower academic achievement, in comparison to their Paheka counterparts. In part, Simon’s theoretical framework involves the inequalities of streaming. That is, the prevalent practice of sorting students into different classes in New Zealand and elsewhere (e.g., the United States) has been found to not promote equal opportunities to learn for marginalized students (Oakes, 1985, 2005; Valencia, 2015, chapter 7). Oakes, a U.S. scholar, has undertaken comprehensive research on high school tracking and reports that students (typically middle-SES White) benefit the most from tracking and students of color (primarily of low-SES background) benefit the least. She has found that the former group of high school students is commonly placed into high-status knowledge classes (course subjects, for example calculus, that are prerequisites for matriculation to and success in college). The latter group of students is often sorted into low-status knowledge classes that emphasize skills and knowledge that lead to jobs in the non-credential economic sector. In sum, the curricular practice of streaming or tracking is not in the best educational interests of students placed in less demanding, low-level knowledge classes.23 The primary tool used to sort and classify students at NHS is the Test of Scholastic Abilities (TOSCA), a norm-referenced, group administered instrument.

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Simon (1993) points out that TOSCA has been the center of controversy and considerable debate since its publication in 1981 (e.g., Codd, 1985; Olssen, 1988— both cited in Simon). Notwithstanding contrary claims by the test’s developers, critics maintain that TOSCA is essentially identical in structure and purpose to earlier IQ tests used in New Zealand (e.g., Otis Test of Mental Ability). Codd (quoted in Simon), comments that “when compared with such [IQ] tests, there is not a single feature of the traditional IQ test that is not shared by TOSCA” (p. 40). A particularly troubling aspect of TOSCA, according to Simon, is that the test manual asserts that the instrument measures a pupil’s “capacity.” Simon notes that the developers, by referring to the concept of capacity, as well as to the test’s predictive power for measuring scholastic abilities and abstract thinking, are implying that TOSCA measures innate abilities. She continues: “Indeed, it [the manual] implies that such abilities are fixed and quantifiable” (p. 31). Valencia (1997a) underscores that these notions are throwbacks to the early part of the 20th century when psychologists and other scholars believed, erroneously, that intelligence was fixed at the point of embryonic conception in humans, and thus fixed throughout the life cycle. Based on the results of the TOSCA administration to the NHS students, the school counselor—in all-powerful role—placed students either in an “accelerate” class (Form 3) or a class for “slow learners” or “remedial” students (Form 4). Suffice it to say, in light of the assured cultural loading and possible cultural bias (see Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, pp. 113–117) on the TOSCA, it was not surprising that the M āori students, in comparison to their Pakeha peers, performed considerably lower on the test. As such, M āori students were underrepresented in Form 3 classes and overrepresented in Form 4 classes. In regard to the instruction provided in these very different classes, Simon (1993) states that the Form 3 students had exposure to a span of higher-order intellectual skills development and knowledge, including for example, application of theory to practice, and logical thinking. These students also had greater independence in their learning opportunities. Form 4 students, by sharp contrast, were exposed to a range of lower-order skills development and knowledge—mostly of a less demanding technical type. Also, Form 4 pupils were socialized to obey instructions in an accurate manner, and they experienced more social control. With respect to the career trajectories of the students, Simon comments: Form 3 students were being given access to the knowledge and skills that would not only gain them credentials but were also the intellectual qualities that are valued in leaders and decision-makers. The Form 4 students were given knowledge that would indeed be useful but not lead to credentials. The skills developed however would probably help them to become useful law-abiding citizens. (p. 39)

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In her conclusion, Simon (1993) notes that although teachers at NHS are the chief agents of unequal curriculum differentiation, they are caught up in streaming structures of schools and thus, as individuals, likely have little control over the injustices that eventuate from these class- and ethnic-based sorting, classifying, and instructional practices. Nonetheless, she argues: “By [teachers] recognizing and highlighting the political nature of these processes, however, they can work collectively for structural change within both their own schools and the education system at large” (p. 41).

Language In her study, Harris (2009) challenges the prevalent belief that M āori children are “deficient” learners when it comes to reading English. She comments: “Over the past 10 years, the reading deficit discourse relating to Māori children has begun to absorb a perceived deficiency with regard to the literacy-related language ability of phonological awareness” (p. 124). Harris (2007, 2009)24 underscores that much of the deficit thinking directed toward the alleged deficiencies of Māori children in learning English has deep historical roots. As we have discussed earlier, during the colonial era M āori children were enrolled in segregated Native schools on reserves and subjected to a curriculum exclusively taught in English, although the students’ mother tongue was the Māori language (te reo Māori). This oppressive practice was quite similar to what historically transpired in the U.S. Southwest in regard to Mexican American students. From about the early 1920s to the late 1960s, the overwhelmingly number of these students, whose first language was Spanish, endured an “English only” curriculum and thus faced a “sink” or “swim” learning outcome (Valencia, 2008, chapter 4). It was not surprising at all that most of the Mexican American students experienced school failure, as indicated by poor academic achievement (e.g., in reading) and high dropout rates (see, e.g., Valencia, 2002, chapter 1). Many Māori students endured the same fate (e.g., see Nakhid, 2003a; Lovegrove, 1966). Harris (2007, 2009) maintains that several misunderstandings or argumentative flaws by deficit thinkers help frame her counter-assertion that Māori children can be reconstructed as achieving learners of English. To wit: 1. Although it is widely accepted that phonological awareness is indispensable for learning to read English, many scholars are not aware that te reo M āori is a syllabic language—compared to English, which is alphabetic. Specifically, te reo M āori and English “have vastly different syllable structures. M āori is a syllable-timed syllabic language with a regular and transparent orthography, compared to the stress-timed and irregular alphabetic orthography of English, and they have different phonemic systems” (Harris, 2007, p. 64).

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2. A substantial number of Māori children grow up in bilingual and bicultural homes. International research has found that a student who is learning a second language (in our case, English) typically needs 5 to 7 years to reach cognitive academic language proficiency (Cummins, 1992; May & Hill, 2005; cited in Harris, 2009).25 Thus, bilingual children learning English as their second language, compared to their monolingual English-speaking peers, will need more time to become fluent in English. 3. The instruments used to assess phonological awareness have not been normed with New Zealand children. These tools have been developed in Britain, Australia, and the United States in which monolingual, monocultural, English-speaking children served as the dominant standardization group. As such, these instruments fail to take into account that Māori children grow up in bilingual, bicultural homes. Harris (2009) conducted her study in Christchurch, New Zealand; the site was a primary classroom mostly comprised of Māori students. At one point in time, the classroom enrollment, which fluctuated in size, hit a maximum of 18 students. Eventually, the participant sample stabilized at 11 students, 4.1 to 10.4 years of age. In her role as a participant-observer, she spent 3 days a week in the classroom for a year. Regarding her methodology, Harris (2009) conducted classroom observations (many were videorecorded and audiorecorded), had conversations with a number of individuals (e.g, teachers; students; parents), and conducted literacy-related assessments (particularly of phonological awareness) of the students in English and te reo Māori (Harris is a credentialed speech language therapist). Based on her administration of the Preschool and Primary Assessment of Phonological Awareness (PIPA), Harris (2009) reports that all of the participant students did “not complete all or a combination of the…phonological awareness subtests as per the test requirements” (p. 131). She continues by noting that such a failure conventionally means that the students are deficient in phonological awareness and thus there would be expectations “that none of the students would be reading English according to educational expectations” (p. 131). Nonetheless, Harris (2009) comments that based on some of the PIPA subtests the students did pass—coupled with their performance on the te reo Māori literacy tasks—one can contest the PIPA diagnosis that the students are deficient in phonological awareness, thus not good readers of English. Harris (2009) asserts that monolingual literacy assessment instruments, such as PIPA, inaccurately diagnose Māori students as deficit readers. She concludes by noting that the results of her research study show that the Māori students are not deficient in learning to read English, but merely different in that these students are learning two languages simultaneously (yet in different ways). “In assessment terms, the education system in New Zealand needs to recognise what diversity means for children’s learning and achievement in the classroom” (p. 139).

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Parents Commissioned by the Curriculum, Teaching and Learning Group of the New Zealand Ministry of Education, Gorinski and Fraser (2006) conducted a literature review of parental involvement, titled Effective Engagement of Pasifika Parents and Communities in Education.26 The authors’ methodology involved a combination of a traditional narrative discourse and a synthesis that was interpretive.27 Gorinski and Fraser produce a literature review that contains the following sections: (a) a threeprong thematic overview; (b) gaps in the literature; (c) barriers to Pasifika parent/ community engagement; (d) strategies that support home-school engagement. 1. Three-prong thematic overview. The first theme the authors identified in their literature review, which I confine by discussion to, is the monocultural paradigm. This is not surprising in that concerns of monoculturalism have been frequently noted elsewhere in this volume (e.g., colonization policies and practices; language suppression; curricular knowledge; assessment practices). The authors find that two specific cultural processes—acculturation and cultural mismatch—frame the monocultural paradigm regards to negatively affecting Pasifika parental involvement. Gorinski and Fraser (2006) comment that “the single overarching issue inherent in acculturation processes is that it locates the ‘problem’ of underachievement of ethnic minority students, including M āori and Pasifika, with the learners themselves” (p. 8). 2. Gaps in the literature. In their review of the literature on Pasifika parental involvement, Gorinski and Fraser (2006) identify two chief gaps in this corpus of research: (a) an absence of micropolitical perspectives; (b) minimal amount of literature refuting deficit thinking. Regarding the former gap, Gorinski and Fraser remark that schools in New Zealand tend to be very bureaucratized. It is expected then that schools are not willing to share their power with parents, and this is reflected in the extant literature on school involvement of Pasifika parents and other parents of color. Micropolitics have to do with power and how groups of people utilize it to influence dominant others so the less powerful can achieve their goals. Gorinski and Fraser point out that micropolitical perspectives in education have considerable potential for improving parental engagement in their children’s schooling. Rather than Pasifika parents being mere classroom volunteers or tokenistic assistants, school-home power relationships in a micropolitical context can enhance teacher/administrator connections with parents, the major goal being fostering of parental empowerment and improving Pasifika student academic achievement. In regard to the second gap—minimal amount of literature refuting deficit thinking—Gorinski and Fraser (2006) note that there is a considerable

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number of publications written from a deficit theorizing position in the context of education that is directed against parents and children of color, especially of low-SES background. The authors continue: A common thread identified amongst the international studies, is the linking of poor achievement of low income family/urban students, with a perceived lack of parental interest and involvement in schooling…This deficit theory paradigm creates a tendency in the literature, to vindicate schools of responsibility for these students’ lack of academic success, and places it instead on their parents’ lack of involvement in schooling. (p. 20). This above quote is indeed a major, valid conclusion found in the international literature on deficit thinking (the germane literature reviewed in the present volume corroborates this conclusion; also, see, e.g., Valencia, 2015, chapter 8; Valencia & Black, 2002; Moreno & Valencia, 2011). What is contestable, however, is the statement of Gorinski and Fraser (2006) that there is in the literature only a small amount of refutation of deficit thinking directed toward the association between putative lack of parental involvement in schooling and children’s poor achievement. By contrast, the rebuking of deficit thinking literature on parents’ of color alleged lack of involvement in their children’s schooling is internationally plentiful (e.g., relevant literature discussed in present volume; above citations by Valencia and associates). 3. Barriers to Pasifika parent/community involvement. In their review of germane literature, Gorinski and Fraser (2006) comment on nine barriers that impede the school involvement of Pasifika parents. In brief, some of these obstacles are: A. Cultural frameworks. An example of this occurs in the dominant school culture when teachers and administrators are unwilling to develop the attitudes and skills needed to foster parental involvement. B. Lack of confidence. Some research has found, for example, that low-SES parents of color, due to their own negative and unsuccessful school experiences, may have low self-esteem about their academic propensity. The anxiety that may develop from this sometimes produces further barriers to their school involvement. C. First language needs. Research shows that Pasifika parents hold high value for their children to develop their mother tongue. By contrast, Englishonly schools often do not embrace this value, and thus alienating parents, which can lead to less than optimal parental involvement. D. Limited economic resources. As a group, Pasifika and Māori parents, in comparison, to their Paheka counterparts, are from lower- SES backgrounds.

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Therefore, excessive employment demands for Pasifika and Māori parents frequently means they have less time to become involved in their children’s schooling. E. Communication barriers. This has been found to be a major obstacle. When ineffective communication arises between home and schools, a barrier can develop that leads to ineffective, alienating parent-school relationships. An example: Professional jargon communicated by teachers in their contacts with parents can leave parents baffled and disempowered. 4. Strategies that support home-school engagement. Gorinski and Fraser (2006) in their review of the literature report that a growing corpus of research is providing some solid suggestions to improve Pasifika parental involvement in their children’s schooling. I provide synopses of some of these strategies. A. Tutors. A number of research investigations underscore the major role of home-school collaboration designed to empower parents and better the academic achievement of their children. Parents serving as tutors have shown promise, as well as parents collaborating or co-learning with teachers. B. Literacy programs. This focuses on how parents can implement literacy strategies to support their children’s learning at home and in school. An example of a literacy program is one-on-one reading with your child. C. Reporting to parents. Gorinski and Fraser (2006) note that there is growing international interest in the monitoring and reporting of student achievement results to parents. Parents in these studies comment that they would particularly like to receive results about diagnostic information and remediation suggestions (if needed) and feedback in a written report. D. Communication and support. Some effective communication strategies for improving parent-school relationships include: providing bilingual community liaisons to assist in language and cultural bridge building between home and school, offering after school child care, and promoting career education programs (with parents present) for students. In their conclusion, Gorinski and Fraser (2006) comment that the literature review they undertook has highlighted a need for a major transformation in thinking and practice about promoting effective Pasifika parental involvement in their children’s schooling—that is, an assiduous move from a monocultural to a multicultural paradigm. This important point was underscored in a later study, which Gorinski and Fraser did not have the opportunity to review. Fletcher,

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Parkhill, Fa’afoi, Taleni, and O’Regan (2009) sought the opinions of Pasifika parents as to supports and barriers to Pasifika students’ reading and writing literacy and overall academic learning. Fletcher et al. (2009) conclude that their study’s findings “indicate that Pasifika students’ literacy learning (and overall academic learning for that matter) is likely to be enhanced when Pasifika values, languages and cultural knowledge are made an implicit part of teaching and learning practices throughout the school” (p. 32).28

Higher Education Reid (2006), in her comprehensive master’s thesis, examines how the University of Canterbury (UC) has responded to New Zealand’s Ministry of Education Tertiary Education Strategy (2002–2007) with respect to M āori students attending UC in 2004. The concerns vis-à-vis a number of M āori students at the college level are threefold: low matriculation rates from secondary education; poor retention at the tertiary level; relatively poor academic achievement while at college. The Ministry’s Tertiary Education Strategy (hereafter referred to as TES) contends that there are eight major barriers to M āori success at the tertiary level of education: (a) family and personal issues; (b) financial issues; (c) negative previous schooling experiences; (d) inadequate secondary school qualifications; (e) difficulty in transition to tertiary study; (f ) isolation; (g) unwelcoming tertiary environments; (h) inappropriate support systems (Reid, p. 2). For her theoretical framework, Reid (2006) draws from marginalization theory (e.g., Hall, 1999), which has to do with how dominant groups control the center of society through boundary maintenance. She asserts that the process of marginalization directed toward the Māori people is legitimized via neocolonial discourse (e.g., unequal power relations between the dominant Pakeha people and the isolated Māori; Eurocentrism in the larger society and in the schools). Reid also draws heavily from deficit thinking discourse (e.g., Valencia, 1997b). She notes that deficit thinking serves as the rationalizing element for marginalization. Based on testimonies from her participant UC Māori students plus her review of germane literature, Reid finds that the eight barriers put forward in the TES are based on deficit thinking (e.g., alleged defects in Māori behavior and culture). She continues: “The corollary of this deficit-based approach is that the impact of exogenous factors derived from state policies and practices remain exculpable, and as a result the fundamental underlying causes of barriers are not redressed” (p. 11). For her methodology, Reid (2006) used a snowballing sampling technique, which generated a sample size of 25 Māori students (self-identified). Māori students at UC comprised 5% of the total enrollment (N = about 500). All the participants were first-generation tertiary students, and the majority of them were

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taking courses offered by the School of Māori and Indigenous Studies; other participants were enrolled in traditional areas (e.g., English; history; psychology; sociology). Reid conducted a semi structured interview in which the participants were asked to comment on the eight barriers to Māori student tertiary success identified in the Ministry’s TES. Given that Reid was a Māori postgraduate student, she had an insider perspective as a researcher. Given that Reid’s (2006) findings are quite extensive (presented in three separate, but integrated, chapters), I will briefly focus on highlights germane to two of the TES barriers—(a) financial issues and (b) negative schooling experiences. The participants’ testimonies lend credence to the TES point that financial difficulties—which all participants experienced—present a major impediment to the academic achievement of Māori tertiary students. Yet, the basis of the forces explaining the obstacle is quite different. The TES position is endogenous in nature, while the participants’ explanation is exogenous in origin. One participant said: “I’m the one that has to catch the bloody Orbiter (bus) and they [Pakeha] go home in mum’s and dad’s cars” (p. 75). Reid’s discussion involves two financial issues: depth of Māori student indebtedness; transgenerational poverty. I confine my discussion to the former. Reid notes that Māori tertiary students in New Zealand—compared to their non-Māori peers—attain a higher disproportionately degree of state-sponsored debt. She comments that the Ministry has failed to provide safeguards for Māori students’ heavy indebtedness, and as such “exacerbates Māori vulnerability in the neoliberal education market” (p. 78). Commenting on human rights, she gives the example of Hawaii where, under the fiduciary obligation of Indigenous rights, Indigenous people can receive free tertiary education. Reid asserts that the provision of free tertiary education is very germane to the Māori people. She justifies this by referring to the Treaty of Waitangi (previously discussed in present chapter), the Bill of Rights, and the Human Rights Act—which have a primary focus on redressing contemporary socioeconomic disparities between the Māori and the Pakeha. Reid concludes that the TES barrier of financial issues is couched in the rationalization of deficit thinking—that is, blaming the students for their economic woes, rather than looking at how historical and contemporary policies and practices of marginalization (including transgenerational poverty) negatively affected the Māori’s plight. With respect to the second barrier I discuss—negative schooling experiences—this obstacle to Māori student school success should be all-too familiar to the reader. As we have discussed thus far in the present volume, students of color in many instances have endured a number of negative experiences (e.g., low teachers’ expectations of their educability) in primary and secondary schools that have thwarted their academic achievement. All of the participants in Reid’s (2006) study reported that they had adverse schooling experiences in their previous years of education, with the two most prevalent being (a) differential

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treatment and (b) deleterious labelling. Regarding differential treatment, one participant recalled when he was 14-years old: A certain politician got up and said that ‘all Māoris and Pacific Islanders should be taught in a separate class because they couldn’t keep up with mainstream New Zealanders’…and I had a teacher agree with [that] statement, so I bumped him in on his arse….We were doing social economics…and he decided that ‘yes all Māoris should be taught in separate classes because we were a bit slower on the uptake’ which I took exception to….I had a letter of apology sent by him but I had expected to be expelled because I had struck a teacher…another school [in the city] wouldn’t take me. (pp. 80–81) Concerning negative experience of labelling, participants reported they were referred to as “dumb” and “non-achievers.” One participant in her testimony stated: There was a teacher that said to me that ‘I’d never amount to anything.’ I saw that same teacher when I went up north….I remembered that harmful comment…[she made when] I was 10 or 11…well, it couldn’t have been [because of ] my school performance…it can only have been [because of ] my [skin] colour and maybe the clothes I wore, or that I couldn’t afford a nice white pair of socks. (p. 82) Reid (2006) notes that while the Ministry’s TES do acknowledge that adverse schooling experiences constitute a chief barrier to Māori student tertiary success, the Ministry does not hold a racist educational system culpable in creating this pernicious aspect of Māori schooling. In the final analysis, Reid (2006) provides a number of Māori student-initiated recommendations to consider for improving Māori student tertiary success (e.g., consistent with Indigenous rights, tertiary education for Māori students should be fully funded by state and college resources). She continues by stating that these recommendations are based on anti-deficit thinking. Furthermore, the TES, which is based on deficit thinking, needs to be fully reconfigured so as to be proactive in addressing ethnic disparities in academic achievement. One such avenue, Reid notes, is paying much more attention to marginalization of the Māori. “Māori parity in engagement with the tertiary education sector is contingent upon the state and its institutions redressing the cumulative effects of the colonial and neocolonail marginalization of Māori in Aotearoa/New Zealand” (p. 1).

Fiji In the beginning of chapter 5, Australia, I note that I will also cover here deficit thinking in Fiji, another major country in the South Pacific. The deficit thinking literature on Fiji is quite thin, and thus does not amount enough in volume

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to construct a separate chapter. Here, I provide a capsule version of deficit thinking in Fiji. Fiji consists of an archipelago, comprising 330 islands, in which about 110 are inhabited. The total landmass is approximately 18,274 square miles—somewhat smaller than the state of New Jersey, U.S.A. About 70% of the total population resides in the island of Viti Levu; nearly 50% of the population lives in urban areas.29 During colonization, Wesleyan missionaries, followers by Marist Catholic missionaries, established mission posts and schools throughout the archipelago. The goal of the missionaries was to convert the ways of the Indigenous people who were Othered as being “considered morally stunted and in need of guidance” (White, 2014, p. 159). This deficit thinking perspective of the Fijians would be a strong and oppressive force during the colonial period of Fiji (see: Thomas, 1990; White, 2001, 2003, 2014, and 2015). Fiji gained its independence in 1970.30 In 2017, the estimated population of Fiji was 920,938. Regarding the ethnic profile, iTaukei (mostly Melanesian with a Polynesian admixture) were the majority group (56.8%). Following were: Indian (37.5%), Rotuman (1.2%), and other—European and part European (4.5%).31 The substantial Indian presence in Fiji stems from the colonial period when the administration banned European planters from hiring Indigenous labor. As a result, from 1879 to 1916 indentured laborers from India were brought to Fiji to work on the sugar plantations (White, 2014). Historically and presently, Indians have had higher educational status and greater presence in the professional and commerce sectors (White, 2014, 2015). The first data on TAG in Fiji was reported in the early 1930s (White, 2003). Mann (1935) discusses the findings of a standardized test of English and arithmetic administered to the two largest ethnic groups, Fijian and Indian students, and one minor group, European students, attending colonial schools. The European pupils performed the highest, and the Indian students’ test results, second in rank, were superior compared to their Fijian peers. In an attempt to explain the interethnic group differences, Mann derided a “native ability” hypothesis, but rather proffered social and economic constraints endured by the Fijian students. He also pointed to the curriculum, which he said was “lacking reality” (p. 124) in regard to experiences, interests, and needs of the Indian and Fijian pupils, which contributed to TAG between the European students and the two other ethnic groups (discussed in White, 2003, p. 357). In Stephens (1944), the author reports that “The standard of education in Indian Committee schools is much higher than in Fijian schools” (p. vii, quoted in White, 2003, p. 358). Stephens underscores that the critical factor explaining the superiority of the Indian schools was the quality and degree of training the teachers received, which was called for by the Indian parents.

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By the late 1960s, the plight of Fijian education garnered considerable national attention. This was clearly expressed in the Fiji Education Commission (1969) report, which spoke to a deleterious pattern of educational disparity between Indian and Fijian students (White, 2003, 2014, 2015). The Fiji Education Committee (FEC) report covers stark statistics on TAG related to a number of achievement indices and patterns. For example, Fijian students had lower enrollment rates in school; lower academic achievement performance; higher dropout rates from secondary schools; lower performance scores on national achievement tests; lower rates of matriculation rates to tertiary education. For instance, the FEC report notes that although Indians and Fijians were nearly equal in size in the national population (45% and 47%, respectively), the Fijian rate in secondary education was half of the Indian enrollment (White, 2015). Based on site visits by observers, the report also comments that in rural Fijian schools there was a lack of computers and photocopiers. School libraries generally did not exist, and for those schools that had libraries the holdings were minuscule (White, 2015). The FEC report, in its attempt to explain TAG, did acknowledge that the educational plight of some Fijian families was related to unfavorable material conditions and economic constraints. The report, nonetheless, had a strong deficit thinking perspective. White (2015) remarks that the FEC report “implicated Fijian parenting and general ‘home conditions,’ as well as behavioral and value orientations, as mitigating cultural variables” (p. 161). By the early 1980s, such deficit thinking was still prevalent and continues today (to be discussed when reviewing the ethnography of White, 2014). In summary, the scourge of deficit thinking and this racialized discourse in explaining the school failure of many Fijian students holds exculpable the structural and economic factors in Fijian society in contributing to the educational inequalities endured by Fijian students. For an example of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice in Fiji, I selected the ethnographic study by White (2014). Her study falls within the theme of “Teachers.” White (2014) introduces matters by discussing how striking it is that deficit thinking discourse “translates so succinctly and seamlessly across the Southwestern Pacific Ocean from the mainland US” (p. 156). In Fiji, she notes, U.S.-based deficit thinking themes teem, for example, allegations of deficient parenting, lack of stimulation in the home for optimal cognitive development, language deficits, and poor socialization of offsprings. These expressions of deficit thinking, which have deep colonial roots, are largely directed to Fijians of urban and working-class backgrounds. White’s (2014) location for her study was in the urban community of Lovodua (pseudonym). The neighborhood in which she did her research was comprised chiefly of housing estates built by the Fiji Housing Authority in order to accommodate unskilled and semi-skilled Fijian laborers who, in 1963, migrated to urban centers. She describes the estates as having “rows of four-storey, balconied,

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dormitory-block concrete units awash in their worn pastel hues and flanked by yards of communal laundry lines and produce gardens” (p. 163). White (2014) spent 3 and ½ years in Fiji and 1 and ½ years in Lovodua, the subject of the present discussion. She collected data based on interviews with a number of participants (e.g., teachers; administrators), and as well she conducted numerous participant observations (mostly of classrooms). Her school site was Dua Secondary School (DSS, pseudonym), enrolling 700-plus students (81% Fijian and 13% Indian). White (2014), in discussing her findings, reports that deficit thinking was abound. “That DDS was a problem school with problem students originating from a problem community was a widely disseminated narrative both within and beyond the school” (p. 164). She comments that on her first day observing classes, during lunch or tea break, and in the staffroom, statements about students’ malfeasance and their poor academic achievement were spontaneously voiced. Several members of the staff referred to DSS students as “not very bright,” as having “poor backgrounds,” and coming from “broken homes” (p. 164)—imputing that cognitively deficient youth and dysfunctional Fijian homes led to inferior academic achievement. A non-Fijian administrator remarked that Fijians were socialized to live in communal settings, and thus they did not have the motivation to achieve, compared with “other races” who resided in “more nuclear families” (p. 164). White (2014) also reports that many teachers commented that the students’ uncompleted homework was due to their and their parents’ devaluation of education, a common deficit thinking theme seen in the global literature (e.g., U.S.—Cooper, 2003; Valencia & Black, 2002; South Africa—Felix, Dornbrack, & Scheckle, 2008). White (2014) reports that one teacher, who was going over homework review—and found that the entire class had not completed their homework—told the students: “This is the general attitude you people have…. Why do you bother even coming to school!? (p. 164). White (2014) also discusses the relatively common deficit thinking discourse of teachers’ expectations of the educability of students of color. One teacher noted that she lowered her expectations of the Fijian students because molding their character was a more realistic objective. The teacher commented that in the previous year she was all academically oriented.” “I used to have sleepless nights because they [Fijian students] were not performing well. So, like this year, I know I must not expect them to perform well. Instead, I must mold them to become good human beings” (p. 166). In her conclusion, White (2014) notes that although deficit thinking was exposed daily via low expectations and pathologization of Fijian students that negatively impinge on the quality of their schooling, some students expressed their voice and agency.32 For example, students used the DSS acronym to counter their oppression and to affirm their dignity by carving “dynamic, studious

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survivors” onto their wooden desks or scrawling them on the inside walls of the classroom. White (2014) succinctly captures this resistance by commenting: In a peer culture occupying the interstices of the school culture, DSS students found means to claim a modicum of dignity through various forms of resistance. The challenge remains in schools such as DSS in Fiji, the US and wherever else deficit thinking finds expression, to promote a lasting dignity by confronting and reversing the structural indignities of racial and class bias. (p. 169)

Notes 1 New Zealand-Wikipedia. Retrieved February 22, 2018 from https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/New_Zealand. 2 Ibid. 3 A brief history of New Zealand/New Zealand now. Retrieved February 22, 2018 from https://www.newzealandnow.govt.nz/living-in-nz/history-governemnt/a-brief-history. 4 A history of New Zealand: 1769-1914. Retrieved February 22, 2018 from https:// nzhistory.govt.nz/culture/history-of-new-zealand-1769-1914. 5 Pakeha is a Māori term for people of European ancestry. See Bishop (2005a, p. 159, note 4). The proper spelling of the term is Pakēhā, but the accents are typically omitted. 6 See, for example: Bishop (2005a, 2005b); Nairn, Pega, McCreanor, Rankine, & Barnes (2006); Smith (2012). 7 For a similar justification to segregate U.S. Black students in separate schools, see Valencia (2010, pp. 23–28). 8 For the full context of Terman’s (1916) quote, see Valencia (2010, pp. 14–15). 9 As to an international example of how Mexican American students in the United States were punished for speaking Spanish at school, see Valencia (2008, pp. 155–158). 10 Bishop (2005a), citing data from Benton (1979), notes that for Māori students enrolled in Native Schools in 1930, about 97% spoke Māori at home. By sharp contrast, in 1960, just 26% of children spoke Māori at home—a decline of 73%. 11 For more on the self-fulfilling prophecy, see chapter 4 (note 21) of present volume. 12 Regions of New Zealand-Wikipedia. Retrieved March 3, 2018 from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regions_of_New_Zealand. 13 Districts of New Zealand-Wikipedia. Retrieved March 3, 2018 from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Districts_of_New_Zealand. 14 How governments work: NZ government. Retrieved March 3, 2018 from https:// www.govt.nz/browse/engaging-with-government/government-in-new-zealand/. 15 Major ethnic groups in New Zealand | Stats NZ. Retrieved from https://www.stats. govt.nz/infographics/major-ethnic-groups-in-new-zealand. 16 “Streaming” is equivalent to tracking in the United States. 17 Data on TAG comparisons for Māori and Pakeha students go back decades. See: Ball, (1930); Calvert (1950); Lovegrove (1966); McKenzie (1927). 18 Pasifika is a collective term used in reference to people (or students) of the Pacific Islands (or born in New Zealand) who self-identify as having their ethnicity stem from there. Based on the 2013 Census, 7% of the total New Zealand population identified as Pasifika, and 17 other groups identified as “Pasifika peoples.” Of the Pasifika group, nearly half were Samoan. Other largest groups were Cook Islands Māori, Tongan, Niuean, Fijian, Tokelaun, and Tuvaluan. Source: Pasifika people in New Zealand. Retrieved March 22, 2018 from pasifika.tki.org.nz>LEAP>Pasifika in New Zealand.

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19 Other research on deficit thinking that has explored teacher-student relationship in terms of teachers’ perceptions of students and students’ perceptions of teachers include: Fletcher, Parkhill, Taleni, & Fa’afoi, (2006); Nakhid (2003a, 2003b); Spiller (2013). 20 Rubie-Davis et al. (2006) used the term Pacific Islander. Given that Pasifika appears to be more frequently used in New Zealand scholarship, I use the term here. 21 See St. George (1983, p. 52, Table 1) for complete list of the 15 pupil attributes. 22 Pasifika students were also included in the sample, but Simon’s (1993) primary focus was on how curriculum differentiation affected Māori students. 23 For further discussion, see chapter 4, Brazil, “Differential Pedagogies” of present volume; also, see Valencia (2015, chapter 7). 24 It appears that Harris (2009) is a condensed version of a part of Harris (2007)—her doctoral dissertation. 25 Cummins (2008) notes that he introduced the distinction between cognitive academic language proficiency (CALP) and basic interpersonal communicative skills (BICS) in Cummins (1979). CALP refers to a second language learner’s “ability to understand and express, in both oral and written modes, concepts and ideas that are relevant to success in school” (Cummins, 2008, p. 2). CALP typically takes the second language learner 5-7 years to reach English proficiency. BICS, which refers to conversational fluency (e.g., in English), generally takes the second language learner 2 years to reach peer-appropriate proficiency (Cummins, 2008). 26 Gorinski and Fraser (2006) note that because of the paucity of literature on Pasifika parental involvement, the literature on Māori parental involvement was also incorporated in their literature review. Furthermore, the authors include some germane international studies (e.g., U.S. research) in their review. 27 In the interest of space, I do not provide the references Gorinski and Fraser (2006) cite in their literature review. 28 For another study that offers this same point about the need for a multicultural paradigm, see Fletcher et al. (2006). 29 Fiji-The world factbook-Central Intelligence Agency. Retrieved April 15, 2018 from https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook.geos/fj.html. 30 Colony of Fiji-Wikipedia. Retrieved April 15, 2019 from https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Colony_of_Fiji. 31 Fiji demographics profile 2018- IndexMundi. Retrieved April 15, 2018 from https:// www.indexmundi.com/fiji/demographics_profile.html. In 2010, a law was passed that substitutes “Fijian” with “iTuakei,” when referring to the Indigenous settlers of Fiji. Source: Ibid. 32 Voice and agency are very important aspects in the process of marginalized students gaining empowerment (for a discussion, see Valencia, 2015, chapter 9).

References Ajwani, S., Blakely,T., Robson, B.,Tobias, M., & Bonne, M. (2003). Decades of disparity: Ethnic mortality trends in New Zealand 1980-1999. Wellington, New Zealand: Ministry of Health & University of Otago. Atkinson, M. (2013). Leaders’ perceptions of the practices and challenges that influence Pasifika achievement in New Zealand secondary schools, Unpublished master’s thesis. Unitec Institute of   Technology, Auckland, New Zealand. Ball, D. (1930). The education of the Māori. Unpublished master’s thesis, Victoria University College, Wellington, New Zealand. Benton, R. (1979). Who speaks Māori in New Zealand. Wellington, New Zealand: New Zealand Council for Educational Research.

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Bishop, R. (2005a). Pathologizing the lived experiences of the indigenous Māori people of Aotearoa/New Zealand. In C. M. Shields, R. Bishop, & A. E. Mazawi, Pathologizing practices:The impact of deficit thinking on education (pp. 55–84). New York, NY: Peter Lang. Bishop, R. (2005b). Freeing ourselves from neocolonial domination in research: A Kaupapa Māori approach to creating knowledge. In K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), The Sage handbook of qualitative research (pp. 109–138). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Bishop, R., & Berryman, M. (2010). Te Kotahitanga: Culturally responsive professional development for teachers. Teacher Development, 14, 173–187. Calvert, C. (1950). Reported in McClew’s (1958) A comparative study of the reading achievement of Māori and European children in an urban school. Unpublished master’s thesis, Auckland University College, New Zealand. Codd, J. (1985). The TOSCA controversy: Political and ethical issues. Delta, 36, 39–52. Cooper, C. W. (2003). The detrimental impact of teacher bias: Lessons learned from the standpoint of African American mothers. Teacher Education Quarterly, 30, 101–116. Cummins, J. (1979). Cognitive academic language proficiency, linguistic interdependence, the optimum age question and some other matters. Working Papers on Bilingualism, 19, 21–29. Cummins, J. (1992). Empowerment through literacy. In J.Tinajero & A. Ada (Eds.), The power of two languages: Literacy and Biliteracy for Spanish-speaking Students (pp. 1–17). New York, NY: McGraw-Hill. Cummins, J. (2008). BICS and CALP: Empirical and theoretical status of the distinction. In. B. Street & N. H. Hornberger (Eds.), Encyclopedia of language and education (pp. 71–83). New York, NY: Springer Science & Business Media LLC. Felix, N., Dornbrack, J., & Scheckle, E. (2008). Parents, homework and socio-economic class: Discourses of deficit and disadvantage in the “new” South Africa. English Teaching: Practice and Critique, 7, 99–112. Retrieved January 21, 2019 from http://education. waikato.ac.nz/research/files/etpc/2008v7n2art6.pdf. Fiji Education Commission. (1969). Education for modern Fiji: Report of the 1969 education commission. Suva, Fiji: Government Printer. Fletcher, J., Parkhill, F., Fa’afoi, A., Taleni, L. F., & O’Regan, B. (2009). Pasifika students: Teachers and parents voice their perceptions of what provides supports and barriers to Pasifika students’ achievement in literacy and learning. Teaching and Teacher Education, 25, 24–33. Fletcher, J., Parkhill, F., Taleni, L. F., & Fa’afoi, A. (2006). Pasifika students’ perceptions of barriers and support to reading and writing achievement in New Zealand schools. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies, 41, 163–182. Gorinski, R., & Fraser, C. (2006). Literature review on the effective engagement of Pasifika parents and communities in education (Report to the Ministry of Education). Tauranga, New Zealand: Pacific Coast Applied Research Centre, Bay of Plenty Polytechnic. Hall, J.M. (1999). Marginalization revisited: Critical, postmodern, and liberation perspectives. Advances in Nursing Science, 22, 88–102. Harris, F. (2007). (Re)-constructing Māori children as achieving learners. Unpublished doctoral dissertation. University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand. Harris, F. (2009). Can Māori children really be positioned as “deficient” learners for reading English? English teaching: Practice and critique, 8, 123–145. Retrieved February 17, 2018 from http://education.waikato.ac.nz/research/files/etpc/files/2009v8n3dial1.pdf Lovegrove, M. N. (1966). The scholastic achievement of European and Māori children. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies, 1, 16–39.

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Mann, C. W. (1935). Education in Fiji. Australia: Melbourne University Press. May, S., & Hill, R. (2005). Māori-medium education: Current issues and challenges. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 8, 365–376. McClew, A. (1958). A comparative study of the reading achievement of Māori and European children in an urban school. Unpublished master’s thesis, Auckland University College, New Zealand. McKenzie, N.R. (1927). Reported in Ball’s (1930) The education of the Māori. Unpublished master’s thesis.Victoria University College, Wellington, New Zealand. Moreno, R. P., & Valencia, R.R. (2011). Chicano families and schools: Challenges for strengthening family-school relationships. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 197–210). New York, NY: Routledge. Nairn, R., Pega, F., McCreanor, T., Rankine, J., & Barnes, A. (2006). Media, racism and public health psychology. Journal of Health Psychology, 11, 183–196. DOI 10.1177/1359105306061179. Nakhid, C. (2003a). “Intercultural” perspectives, academic achievement, and the identifying process of Pacific Islands students in New Zealand schools. Journal of Negro Education, 72, 297–317. Nakhid, C. (2003b). Comparing Pasifika students’ perceptions of their schooling with the perceptions of non-Pasifika teachers using the “mediated dialogue” as a research methodology. New Zealand Journal of Educational Studies, 38, 207–226. Oakes, J. (1985). Keeping track: How schools structure inequality. New Haven, CT:Yale University Press. Oakes, J. (2005). Keeping track: How schools structure inequality (2nd ed.). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Olssen, M. (Ed.). (1988). Mental testing in New Zealand: Critical and oppositional perspectives. Dunedin, Otago, New Zealand: University of Otago. Osterhammel, J. (1997). Colonialism: A theoretical overview (S.L., Frisch, Trans.). Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers. Our nation’s story. (1926). A course in British history specially written to meet the requirements of the new syllabus. Standard III (1926). Auckland, New Zealand: Whitcombe & Tombs. Provost, L. (2012). Education for Māori: Context for our proposed audit work until 2017. Wellington, New Zealand: Office of the Auditor-General. Reid, J. (2006). Barriers to Māori student success at the University of Canterbury. Unpublished master’s thesis, University at Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand. Ross, L., & Nisbett, R. E. (1991). The person and the situation: Perspectives of social psychology. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Rubie-Davis, C., Hattie, J., & Hamilton, R. (2006). Expecting the best for students: Teacher expectations and academic outcomes. British Journal of Educational Psychology, 76, 429–444. Samu, T. W. (2006). The “Pasifika umbrella” and quality teaching: Understanding and responding to the diverse realities within. Waikato Journal of Education, 12, 35–49. Simon, J. (1993). Streaming, broadbanding and pepper-potting: Managing Māori students in secondary schools. Critical Perspectives on Cultural and Policy Studies in Education, 12, 30–42. Smith, L. T. (2012). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples (2nd ed.). London, England: Zed Books. Spiller, L. T. (2013). Teachers’ misunderstandings that affect the learning of their Pasifika students. Unpublished master’s thesis, University of Wellington, New Zealand.

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St. George, A. (1983). Teacher expectations and perceptions of Polynesian and Pakeha pupils and the relationship to classroom behavior and school achievement. British Journal of Educational Psychology, 53, 48–59. Stephens, F. B. (1944). Report on education in the colony of Fiji (Legislative Council Paper No. 18). Suva, Fiji: Department of Education. Terman, L. M. (1916). The measurement of intelligence. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. Tertiary Education Strategy. (2002-2007). Office of the Associate Minister of Education (Tertiary Education), Ministry of Education, Wellington, New Zealand. The world and its people. (1912). The world with special references to Great Britain. London, England: Nelson & Sons. Thomas, N. (1990). Sanitation and seeing: The creation of state power in early colonial Fiji. Comparative Studies in Society and History, 32, 149–170. Valencia, R. R. (1997a). Genetic pathology model of deficit thinking. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 41–112). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997b). The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (2002). Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (2nd ed.). London, England: RoutledgeFalmer. Valencia, R. R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. The Critical America Series. New York, NY: New York University Press. Valencia, R.R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Black, M. S. (2002). “Mexican Americans don’t value education!”—On the basis of the myth, mythmaking, and debunking. Journal of Latinos in Education, 1, 81–103. Valencia R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Minority students and intelligence testing: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. White, C. M. (2001). Between academic theory and folk wisdom: Local discourse on differential educational attainment in Fiji. Comparative Educational Review, 45, 303–333. White, C. M. (2003). Historicizing educational disparity: Colonial policy and Fijian educational attainment. History of Education, 32, 345–365. White, C. M. (2014). Deficit thinking redux: Cultural deficit discourse and an urban community and school in Fiji. Social Identities, 20, 155–170. DOI 10.1080/13504630.2014.978750. White, C. M. (2015). Rurality, urbanity, indigeneity and schooling in Fiji. International Education, 44, 69–85. Woodcock, P. (1988). The cultures collide:The contact period of New Zealand history, 1769–1846. Auckland, New Zealand: Macmillan. Woolfolk, A., Winne, P. H., Perry, N. E., & Shapka, J. (2009). Educational psychology (4th ed.). Toronto, Canada: Pearson Canada.

PART III

Europe

7 ENGLAND

In the following literature review of deficit thinking in England, there is an ample corpus of publications allowing me to produce a separate chapter. For the other European countries, however, in which I have located studies concerned with deficit thinking in education, the volume of these respective bodies of research are too thin to warrant the writing of stand-alone chapters. As such, the literature discussions for the other European countries (Ireland; Belgium) are covered in chapter 8, “Other European Countries.” The current chapter contains the following parts: (a) ethnic demographic profile; (b) TAG; (c) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Ethnic Demographic Profile Based on the 2011 Census, the population of England numbered 53,012,456 people. In regard to ethnic diversity, Whites, by far, constituted the largest group (85.4%) of the total population. The percentages of the remaining ethnic groups were, in descending order: Asian (7.8%), Black (3.5%), British mixed (2.3%), and other (1%). With respect to language, 92% of the population (age 3 years or older) spoke English as their primary language.1 Xenophobia is pervasive in Britain, which I mention in the next chapter on “Other European Countries.”

TAG TAG is a major concern in England. One indicator of TAG that receives a lot of attention is the results of the General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) examinations, which are administered at the end of secondary school.2

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Laws (2013), former Minister of State of Schools, commented that in 2012 only one-third of “disadvantaged” pupils attained 5 good GCSEs, including mathematics and English, compared to two-third of other students.3 He continued by noting: “This is one of the widest achievement gaps in the world [italics added], and it is one of this Government’s key objectives to dramatically narrow that gap” (p. 1). A political correspondent states that a recent report in England joins the alarm by stating: It will take 50 years to close the attainment gap [on the GCSE results] between England’s most disadvantaged pupils and their wealthier peers at the current rate of progress…Schoolchildren who have been eligible for free school meals…were 24.3 months behind their wealthier classmates.4 The report by Gillborn and Mirza (2000) contains TAG data that goes back more than 3 decades (1988, and is longitudinal—1988–1997). The focus of the report is on academic achievement results for White students and the principal ethnic minority groups as defined in the recent Census: Black Caribbean, Black African, Black other, Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi. The six groups account for about 80% of Britain’s total ethnic minority population.5 The authors note that the data they report is derived from 118 local educational agencies (LEAs), representing “the most comprehensive database yet assembled of variations in minority attainment at the local level” (p. 8).6 Gillborn and Mirza (p. 13, Figure 2) show comparative baseline data (1988, first year of administration of the GCSE examination) for each ethnic group who had five or higher grade passes on the GCSE examination. In descending order, the results are: White (26%), Indian (23%), Pakistani (20%), Black (17%; aggregate for three Black groups), and Bangladeshi (13%)—clear evidence of TAG. The authors conclude: “This [TAG] suggests that pupils of different ethnic origins do not experience equal educational opportunities” (p. 12). Gillborn and Mirza (2000) also present longitudinal data for the ethnic groups from 1988 to 1997 (p. 14, Figure 3). Only White and Indian students had a yearto-year improvement on five or higher grade passes on the GCSE examination. For African Caribbean, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi students, the attainments fell back to a lesser level than the antecedent cohort, thus increasing TAG. The authors comment that these longitudinal data “suggest that not all ethnic groups shared equally in the overall improvements in attainment” (p. 14) on the GCSE examination. The authors note that a particularly disconcerting trend during this 10-year period was the increasing achievement chasm between White pupils and their Black and Pakistani peers. Another analysis of the GCSE examination results that Gillborn and Mirza present are 1998 data, including baseline and by four Key Stages (1, 2, and 3 and GCSE examination; p. 16, Figure 5).7 The authors report that Black students, at the beginning of their compulsory

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schooling, showed the higher attainment (20% above the LEA average) of all ethnic groups. At Key Stage 2, Blacks had attained below the average for their LEA. At the end of their schooling, Black pupils had attained a performance of 21% below the LEA average on the GCSE examination results. The authors state: “That any ethnic group could enter school 20 points in advance of the [LEA] average but leave 21 points behind opens up an important area for educational debate on ethnic minority attainment” (p. 16). Gillborn and Mirza share their explanation for the educational plight of Black students: “A good deal of qualitative research, for example, argues that Black pupils are often treated more harshly (in disciplinary terms) and viewed with lower teacher expectations on the basis of teachers’ assumptions about their motivation and ability” (p. 17).8 In a more recent study of TAG in England, Glevey (2007) sought to examine the low mathematics achievement of Black students of various ages (5 to 16 years).9 The author’s database is derived from a 2005 report that investigated the percentage of expected level of mathematics attainment10 for Black, White, Chinese, and Indian students11 at Key Stages 1 to 4. Scores were reported for each Key Stage (Glevey, p. 5, Table 7.1). The results of this analysis are presented in Table 7.1. The findings are incontrovertible. White, Asian, and Chinese students outperform their Black counterparts at each of the Key Stages. In regard to White and Black mathematics comparisons, TAG at Key Stage 1 is 7 percentage points, 13 points at Key Stage 2, 18 points at Key Stage 3, and 15 points at Key Stage 4 (five or more higher grade passes). Glevey, proffering an explanation for TAG, notes (citing Osborne, 2001) that stereotypes about the intellectual ability of Black students exist long before TAG manifests. Furthermore, Glevey comments: “The lack of high teacher expectations is a major factor in the underachievement of pupils of African heritage at school, resulting in less than adequate opportunities for them to engage with studying mathematics at a higher level” (p. 7). In his attempt to explain the persistent and pervasive presence of TAG in England schools, Gillborn (2008) draws on the writings of Roithmayr TABLE 7.1  Percentage of Students Attaining Expected Level

for Mathematics on Key Stages 1 to 4 Ethnicity Key Stage

White

Asian

Chinese

Black

1 2 3 4

85 73 72 51

86 67 66 53

78 88 90 75

78 60 54 36

Source: Data reported in Glevey (2007, p. 5, Table 7.1).

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(1998, 2000, 2003, and 2004), who explores the notion of “locked-in inequality.” Gillborn notes that Roithmayr conceptualizes such inequality as being locked in when those in power build their advantages via past conscious discrimination, and such inequality subsequently transforms to institutional discrimination to such a level that even removing all existing obstacles cannot create equality for all. In sum, Gillborn asserts, locked-in inequality can become so huge and so deeply entrenched that “it can feed on itself ” (p. 64). He further notes that the concept of locked-in inequality has particular relevance exploring the nagging inequality and TAG in education.

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice The following deficit thinking themes are discussed: (a) teachers; (b) curriculum differentiation; (c) standards-based school reform movement; (d) special education; (e) parents.

Teachers In England, as in other countries heavily stratified by race and class (e.g., Australia; United States), White teachers comprise an overwhelming percentage of the public school instructional force. Boyle and Charles (2011), citing government data (Department for Education, 2010), report that in the entirety of England’s school regions, over 97% of the teachers are White (London is an exception with 83% White teachers). These teachers instruct a multicultural student body—80% White and 20% culturally diverse students (Black; Mixed [e.g., White and Black African; White and Asian]; Pakistani; Indian; Chinese) (Department for Education). As an example of the dearth of teachers of color, Boyle and Charles note that in Liverpool, of a teaching workforce of 4,439 teachers just 22 (0.5%) of them are Black. In sum, England faces a major challenge and obligation to increase its teaching force with teachers of color—for reasons that follow. Crozier (2009) explored teachers’ expectations of second-generation Bangladeshi and Pakistani students enrolled in primary and secondary schools in the North East sector of England (the primary focus was on secondary students).12 This study was particularly important in that these two South Asian student groups are the lowest achieving groups in the United Kingdom (Department for Education and Skills, 2006; cited in Crozier). The participant sites for the study were in the towns of Shipton (having a small Bangladeshi community) and Ironoreton (with a small Pakistani heritage community).13 The rates of poverty in the Bangladeshi and Pakistani communities were higher than the UK average. The dominant religion of the two groups was Islam.

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In regard to methodology, the author used in-depth and group interviews for both groups—involving 157 families of youngsters ages 10- to 19-years old; as well, 69 teachers were interviewed. The participants had the opportunity to respond in English, Punjabi (Bangladeshi participants), and Sylheti (Pakistani participants). In addition to interviews, Crozier (2009) conducted observations and kept field notes. His substantive framework was based on previous research that found (a) teachers hold lower expectations of the educability of Bangladeshi and Pakistani students; (b) teachers hold stereotyped, homogenized, and fixed views of these two South Asian groups. The findings reported by Crozier (2009) are fairly aligned with the deficit thinking perspectives seen in the literature regarding Bangladeshi and Pakistani people (e.g., Crozier & Davies, 2007). The head of a school in Ironoreton, drawing from the low aspirations discourse, commented that the Asian parents in his school failed to be assertive. “[They] were not pushy in wanting their children to get on” (p. 292). He continued: “The attitude of the Pakistani parents was very mixed. They want their children to do well but they don’t set their aspirations very high” (p. 292). Crozier (2009) notes that the reticence of parents to engage with teachers was likely due to the parents’ respect for teachers, as well as parents’ self-consciousness of their limited English-skills. In sum, the author remarks that the views of teachers “were seemingly based on cultural fictions of notions of uneducated, non-English speaking immigrants” (p. 293). The author’s findings based on the interviews support the conclusion that all the parents expressed that they do indeed value education and wanted their child to do well in school. Regarding the responses of the students, the author reports that for the 300 participants (boys and girls) who were interviewed, they had a wide spectrum of career aspirations—ranging from computer experts, doctors, footballers, hair and beauty consultants, and teachers. Crozier (2009) offers a number of suggestions that teachers should consider as antiracist approaches in their work, for example: (a) attempt to understand the diversity that exist in schools and embrace it; (b) implement professional development that focuses on understanding and debunking stereotypes, elevating teacher expectations, and promoting stronger teacher-parent relationships; (c) improve career guidance for all students. Wright (2010) examined issues related to the Black diaspora to Britain, with a focus on Black youngsters of African Caribbean descent attending British secondary schools. She first mentions the reports and other literature that underscore the endemic disadvantage Black students experience in British schools (also see the TAG section in England discussed earlier in this chapter). Wright discusses the phenomenon (earlier discussed by Gillborn & Mirza, 2000) in which African Caribbean students begin school, demonstrating high achievement. Their academic achievement worsens, however, as they continue their schooling. A dire consequence of this poor achievement, Wright notes, is their limited

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mobility in the job market. For youngsters aged 16 to 24 years, 50% of Blacks are unemployed, compared to 20% of Whites. The author comments that within the general educational discourse, the poor academic achievement of Black children and youngsters is attributed to deficit thinking directed toward the student, alleged dysfunctional family practices, cultural differences, and the hegemony of White teachers that lead to the subordination of Black students. In her study, Wright (2010) conducted a 2-year ethnography of 5 secondary schools. The SES of the areas in which the schools were located ranged from high-SES, middle-SES, to working-class background. The percentages of Black and other ethnic minority students enrolled in the 5 schools ranged from 2% to 42%; 25% of the student participants were African Caribbean/mixed heritage. The author interviewed 62 second-and third-generation Black children (ages 13 to 15 years) and 52 teaching staff members. Some Black parents were also interviewed. Finally, Wright conducted several hours of observations inside and outside the classroom. Wright’s findings were fairly aligned with the available literature: Black students’ behavior was viewed through deficit thinking lens. For example, one teacher Othered Black girls in her class, claiming they posed a threat to classroom management. She commented: “If this group of [Black] girls were not in class, I feel I’d be able to do a much more effective teaching job with the others” (p. 311). One student asked: “Why do you always pick on us?” (p. 311). The teacher replied: “When I look up you’re always talking” (p. 311). Another Black girl remarked that some boys were playing with a pocket computer game, yet they were not reprimanded. At the end of all this exchange, another Black girl defiantly referred to the teacher as a “Damn facety” (p. 311).14 This girl and another were asked by the teacher to leave the room. They did so, slamming the door as they left. In regard to the boys, one Black student, in referring to teachers, said: “They think that what all black people do is be bad and steal things” (p. 314). Wright closes by noting: “The stereotyping within schools echoes that of the wider society consisting of negative labels of black people as aggressive, lazy and challenging…Educationally, black youth are viewed as underperformers, problematic and unteachable” (p. 316). The author also agrees with a recent survey of new teachers that these teachers say they are ill-prepared to engage with multicultural classrooms and students from ethnically diverse backgrounds.

Curriculum Differentiation Internationally, England has the reputation of being one of the leaders in using perceived/measured ability of students to separate them in secondary school level classes designed for what they can putatively learn (e.g., classes of the less able; average; more able). Hart, Dixon, Drummond, and McIntyre (2004)—authors of the book, Learning Without Limits—assert that such sorting by ability is driven

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by the deficit thinking view of “fixed ability” in “general intelligence” (p. 17) which has its origins in the hereditarianism of the early 20th century (also, see Valencia, 1997). Hart et al. state that: This view of ability has had, and continues to have, considerable currency in schools because it offers what has come to be thought of as the obvious explanation for the differences in young people’s learning, achievements and responses to classroom activities that confront teachers everyday of their professional lives… Explaining differences in terms of inherent ability is…unjust and untenable. (p. 17)15 A collaborating voice on the pervasiveness and negative effects of sorting of students by perceived/measured ability of students is Benn (2011a). She notes that such selection by fixed abilities is enjoying a “comeback, part of the retro traditionalism sweeping our education system” (p. 2). She also comments that recent data reveal 17% of United Kingdom primary-age students are now sorted by the age of 7 years. There is, in some schools, an extreme practice that has led to ability-based “‘schools within schools’…each with its own colour-coded uniforms” (p. 2).16 In the introduction of her study on English secondary school sorting in different classrooms, Araújo (2007) focuses on the “modernisation of the comprehensive principle” which was proposed by the New Labour in the late 1990s. This principle increasingly argues for the differentiation of students in classes based on their ability (Labour Party, 1997). In her investigation, the author sought to explore the New Labor’s initiative of raising standards and improving achievement in select schools (Fresh Start schools), mainly attended by low-SES, marginalized students. She selected a multiethnic, inner-city high school, Greenfield Comprehensive (GC, pseudonym). The schools enrolled 600 students, of which 50% were low-SES pupils, based on participation in the free school meal program. More than two-thirds of the students were from an ethnic minority background, and 15% were refugees in England—primarily originating from Somalia, Turkey, Kurdistan, and Albania. The high school’s enrollment was also multilingual (30 different languages spoken). Over 40% of these students were receiving instructional support for English as an Additional Language (EAL)— which was five times greater than the national average. Another point on GC is noteworthy. Araújo’s study lasted for 18 months; it focused on participant groups of 11- to 12-year olds and their teachers. Data collection methods included semistructured interviews, review of specific documents, and direct observations. The author focused on science lessons, as they were a portion of the curriculum in which sorting by ability was overtly done. Araújo (2007) reports that at GC the selection of students began and continued at a quick pace, with an emphasis on selecting, by ability, both “high-fliers”

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and “slower learners.” Regarding science classes at GC, students were distributed into seven different groups, based on the students’ perceived ability in science: “top” groups were A, D, and F; “middle” groups were B, E, and G; “bottom” group was C. The author notes that students from “socially disadvantaged” and ethnic minority backgrounds were overrepresented in the lower ability groups in science. More apparent, however, is Araújo’s discussion of the clear disproportionate percentage of EAL students allocated to the lower science instructional groups. In the lower groups, 10 of 14 students received EAL support, while only 1 of 12 such students in the higher groups received EAL support. The author concludes by noting that formal and informal criteria used by GC teachers, expressed via deficit thinking, “resulted in practices that disadvantaged pupils from certain ethnic backgrounds…were mainly disadvantaged by some teachers’ poor expectations and the use of EAL as an allocative criterion” (p. 255).

Standards-Based School Reform Movement In their essay, Boyle and Charles (2011) provide a critique of the “minimum competency paradigm” in England,17 a movement in which testing standards are used in a “one-size-fits-all” model to monitor accountability. This governmental preoccupation with standards and rigorous accountability was introduced in England in 1989 by the Conservative administration, and the movement has now swept the country’s public schools—as it has in other countries, for example, the United States (Valencia & Pearl, 2010). Boyle and Charles note that this centrally controlled system has a major goal of raising students’ test scores so England can compete globally (cf. Valencia, 2010, chapter 4). The authors discuss, however, that this accountability paradigm has led to racialized and classbased collateral damage. Such negative results have resulted in the reporting of outlier students that underperform, and when translated “into policy speak, soon become ‘deficits’ within the system….These deficits usually conform to a socio-economic-cultural paradigm—the economically disadvantaged populations of school” (p. 301). Particularly negatively impacted are Black Caribbean boys who, for some time, have been problematized as dangerous and strongly anti-school (e.g., Archer, 2008). Boyle and Charles (2011) note that the standards-based school reform movement in England has led to the “cult of the deficit model” (p. 303) as seen in pejorative descriptions such as a school “performing badly against government norms” (p. 303). A case in point is seen in a media story about a school with a 95% Bangladeshi enrollment that was underperforming (Times Education Supplement, 2008). Boyle and Charles comment that when readers see these accounts on a regular basis, the expectation of poor performance can become a reality. The authors conclude that in a relatively short time, England’s

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accountability system has become a principle gatekeeper for upward economic mobility for White students, who are already advantaged.

Special Education For some time now, the overrepresentation of ethnic minority students with special educational needs (SEN) in England, as well as the United Kingdom, has been a concern (e.g., Dyson, 2009; Dyson & Kozleski, 2008; Lindsay, Pather, & Strand, 2006).18 The United Kingdom is not alone in its close interest in this overrepresentation, as other European countries (e.g., Denmark; Germany; Sweden; see Berhanu & Dyson, 2012) and non-European countries (e.g., Australia, see Gould, 2009; U.S., see Valencia & Suzuki, 2001, chapter 7) also report the overrepresentation of ethnic minority students in special education. Based on data of 6.5 million students in the United Kingdom, Lindsay et al. report clear evidence of the overrepresentation of students of color with SEN.19 The authors controlled for gender, SES, and grade and found that students of color—compared to White British students—were overrepresented as having SEN. Here are some examples: 1. Mixed pupils (e.g., White and Black Caribbean) and Black Caribbean pupils are about 1½ times more likely to be identified as having Behavioral, Emotional, and Social Difficulties (BESD) compared to White British students. Lindsay et al., state that the available literature suggests that certain school factors (e.g., racist attitudes; differential treatment by teachers) are probable explanations for the overrepresentation of Black students. 2. Bangladeshi students, compared to their White British peers, are identified twice as likely with a hearing impairment and 2 to 2½ times more likely to be diagnosed with Profound and Multiple Learning Difficulties. 3. Irish Traveller and Gypsy/Roma students are overrepresented in SEN categories of Moderate and Severe Learning Difficulties and BESD. Lindsay et al. note that the literature suggests that bullying, negative teacher attitudes, racism, and not providing a culturally relevant curriculum probably explain the students’ overrepresentation. In regard to explanations of why ethnic minority students (Blacks; Irish Travellers) in England are overrepresented with having SEN, Dyson and Gallannaugh (2008) offer this anti-deficit thinking suggestion for such disproportionality: “[It] is not the misidentification of minority students as having disabilities but the misleading identification of them as having special educational needs as individuals when the difficulties they experience are systemic and structural in origin” (p. 37). In reaching this conclusion, the authors draw from the previously discussed report by Lindsay et al. (2006). Dyson and Gallannaugh

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underscore that after Lindsay et al., controlled for key factors (i.e., gender, SES, and grade), ethnicity emerged as a weak predictor (0.5% of the variance) of probability of SEN identification at the individual level. Rather, being a boy, coming from a low-SES background, and being older were stronger predictors of SEN identification for ethnic minority students. Dyson and Gallannaugh assert that these factors are triggers for teachers—who first come in contact with alleged “deviant” children—to view these students as “having special educational needs” (p. 43). Furthermore, low expectations of such students often lead to their poor academic achievement, thus reinforcing the teachers’ perceptions that these students have SEN. The authors conclude: “The implication is that although the identification of children as having special educational needs may result most immediately from the construction of difference at the school and teacher levels, that construction is itself a response to educational and social inequalities” (p. 43). The study by Gillies and Robinson (2012) provides some confirmation that marginalized students with SEN in England are targets of deficit thinking. The authors undertook a 3-year ethnography of 3 inner-city English secondary schools, focusing on students assigned to a Behaviour Support Unit (BSU), which is designed for misbehaving students. Students who exhibited ongoing low-level disruptive behavior and were deemed to be violent, were first noted by teachers, and were placed in the BSUs. The participants (N = 73; boys = 49, girls = 24; ages ranged from 12 to 15 years) formed a diverse group of ethnicities (e.g., Black; Turkish; South East Asian; White). Black African and Black Caribbean students were significantly overrepresented in the three BSUs. The participants were from very low-SES background, with some being homeless. School staff sometimes referred to the BSUs as the “zoo,” “sin bin,” or “punishment room” (p. 159). The curriculum of the BSU was guided by the principle that the students needed personal development. This belief was that students with behavioral problems had difficulties in controlling violent outbursts, aggression, and impulsivity. A factor precipitating such deviant behavior was due to “emotional malaise,” which, in turn, was caused by “poor parenting” (p. 161). To get to the root of these problems, the curriculum consisted of project work, mentoring, and anger management. Gillies and Robinson (2012) note that sessions were mostly chaotic and time was spent primarily on the students doing worksheets. Also, the teachers were seriously underqualified and underresourced. The authors state that in one school the staff told them that the BSU students were to remain in them for six weeks at a time. The reality was, however, that many students were placed in them for years. Gillies and Robinson (2012) discuss some lucid examples of how the philosophy and the practice of the BSUs were riddled with deficit thinking. Such pathologization was problematized in the context of what was occurring in the home of the student having SEN, with considerable blame being directed

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to the parents. Because of alleged “inadequate parental input” into the child’s development, students deemed as troublesome were viewed as lacking in high aspirations, self-esteem, and particularly—emotional self-regulation. Gillies and Robinson note that many of the teachers spoke of “damage” when referring to the students, positioning them as incurable and dangerous to themselves and others. These medicalized discourses of deviancy and dysfunction sometimes crossed over to diagnoses of mental illness and biological conditions (e.g., Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). Furthermore, mothers of the students were viewed in the context of lone motherhood as a risk factor, leading to Black boys as “overfeminised” (p. 164). As such, claims were made that these boys became defiant and resentful toward males in positions of authority. The authors report that teachers demonstrated contempt for the parents: “A lot of the families are completely dysfunctional….A lot of them [the mothers] are drunk or addicted to drugs” (p. 165). In defense of parents, those that tried to address their sons’ problems were invisible to teachers. In conclusion, Gillies and Robinson (2012) comment that the shift in England is to view behavioral problems in students as being fixable through a deficit thinking, remedial therapeutic model that locates alleged deviance in individuals and their mothers. Citing Mizra (2005), Gillies and Robinson underscore that English schools, rather than focusing on “hard” structural issues (e.g., poverty), zero in on “soft” issues that center on behavior, the home, and culture. Such approaches, the authors note, deny teachers and related staff the opportunities to critically reflect on the institutional racism imbedded in their everyday lived experiences.

Parents Crozier (2005) focused on the school experiences of primary and secondary school-age African Caribbean students20 and students of mixed heritage (i.e., African Caribbean and White) in England. What is somewhat novel about the design of this investigation is that the students’ educational experiences are captured through their parents’ recollections and perspectives. The author sets his study within a national context regarding concerns that Black students consistently are one of the lowest academically achieving groups in the country (e.g., see Dyson & Gallannaugh, 2008, Table 7.1, p. 39; Gillborn & Mirza, 2000). The investigation took place in a number of schools in the South West section of England. The participants included 25 parents (mothers = 21; fathers = 4); their SES ranged from professional occupations to unskilled and unemployed. The number of children the parents had was 55 total. Crozier (2005) used individual and group interviews (semi structured and unstructured). The author notes that the parents were particularly concerned with the negative schooling experiences of their boys. Thus, the author mainly focused on them.

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On the matter of findings, Crozier (2005) underscores that the parents painted an overwhelming negative picture of their children’s educational experiences. It was clear that these unfavorable perceptions were driven by deficit thinking—which was consonant with the extant literature. The author comments that explanations for the poor academic performance of Black students (in England and elsewhere, e.g., the United States; see Valencia, 2015) “has been located within a pathological discourse, blaming the children themselves as [being] inadequate or innately delinquent. Poor self-concept and low self-esteem as a result of cultural deficit [has been] one popular explanation” (p. 588). Parents in the present study described a pattern of poor academic performance in which their children were demotivated to learn by a system that rejected them. Crozier (2005) also reports that parents perceived a number of stereotypes directed toward their children (e.g., teachers believe the students represent a challenge to authority; students are aggressive, loud, and feisty). The author also discusses that the parents observed the teachers had low expectations of their offspring, which led to their low achievement, and in some cases, being excluded from school. Crozier (2005) closes by admonishing “that until institutional racism is taken seriously in schools then…educational policies to raise standards will have limited impact on the experience of the black child” (p. 596). Gillborn, Rollock, Vincent, and Ball (2012) undertook an atypical study, as Black Caribbean,21 middle-class parents served as participants. An impetus for the design was a growing color blindness attitude in England. There is a growing discourse in the country that inequalities based on class trump racial inequalities. Such perceptions have placed the alleged schooling plight of White working-class students to the center of educational concerns. As such, racial discrimination and the resultant inequalities vis-à-vis students of color and immigrant pupils have been relegated, in part, to a status of invisibility in the contemporary discourse. This misconception has been fueled by data on ethnic differences in academic performance. Gillborn et al., note that the percentage of White British students who receive “free school meals” (FSM), a rough proxy for SES of the family, have the lowest participation rate (10.2%) of seven surveyed ethnic groups (Bangladeshi students have the highest participation rate, 46.2%; thus they are the most disadvantaged in SES) (see Gillborn et al., Table 7.1, p. 124). The authors further report that White British students receiving FSM have the lowest percentage (21.8%) of achieving at least five higher grade passes on the GCSE examinations.22 Thus, the assertion goes: “White working-class boys in particular are the group at most risk of academic failure” (p. 125). Gillborn et al. note, however, that this argument is seriously flawed: “Deep and persistent patterns of overall race inequality have been erased from the policy agenda; the fact that most minoritized groups are out-performed by their White peers is entirely absent from debate” (p. 125).23 The participants in Gillborn et al. (2012) were 62 Black middle-class parents (80% mothers; 20% fathers) residing in London and outside (e.g., north

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of London). Regarding SES, parents were selected who had professional or management occupations. The authors used a semi structured interview schedule, focusing on two themes: (a) exploration of the parents’ own educational experiences (some parents were schooled in Britain between the 1960s and 1980s); (b) parents’ perceptions of their interactions with their children’s teachers. In regard to the parents’ recollections of their early educational experiences in British schools, Gillborn et al. (2012) report that a common thread running across the interviews was that their teachers held low expectations of them. Gabriel, 24 an educational consultant, described an event when he was a 13-year-old pupil. The racism was ferocious from the other [White] students in the school and some of the teachers…things like calling me names, like ‘gollywog’ and ‘jungle bunny’; putting the blackboard rubber across my brow, marking my face. All day, all day, comments from them. So it was a miserable place. (p. 127) Gabriel also spoke about how teachers made little attempt to hide their sentiments that Blacks were believed to be intellectually inferior to Whites. He recalls that after being denied membership in the school chess club, he subsequently beat a top player from a rival school. His reward from his teacher was a surprised response: “I didn’t think you people played chess” (p. 128). Another example of racism the parents endured was what Cynthia, a teacher, experienced. Once again, we see that low expectations were front and center. For me, secondary school was a positive experience socially, the problems came with the expectations of the teachers on me, they didn’t expect much…school was more of a social place than an academic, there was no expectation of me as a child from the teachers, it was just, ‘you’re here, let’s just take you through the system.’ (p. 129) With respect to focus two of the study, the parents’ perceptions of their interactions with their children’s teachers, the primary response was that teachers held low expectations of their children—an echo from the parents’ past. Malorie, an education manager for the local authority, recalled: The school was running a gifted and talented programme…they selected the young people who they saw as gifted and talented to be a part of the this programme and started to do things with them, extended their experiences and opportunities and as I say, [I] found out about it by default… So they chose these young people and do you know what? All of them were White [italics added]. (p. 131)

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In conclusion, Gillborn et al. (2012) comment that being a Black Caribbean middle-class family in Britain offers no protection from the deficit thinking of low expectations, which research has underscored is a persistent threat to the school success of Black students (e.g., Crozier, 2005; Gillborn, 2008). The qualitative data in the present study suggest that the heightened cultural and social status of the middle-class index that Black families carry provides little safeguard against the racial inequalities that run deeply in the schools of England. It is imperative that teachers’ low expectations of Black students be addressed at the level of teacher education programs in college, as well as in-service development for incumbent teachers.

Notes 1 Population of England (2017)—facts and information. Retrieved May 12, 2018 from https://countrydigest.org/population-of-england. 2 General Certificate of Secondary Education—Wikipedia. Retrieved May 12, 2018 from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Certificate_of_Secondary_Education. 3 Laws, D. (2013, March 5). Closing the achievement gap. Speech to the Association of School and College Leaders. Retrieved May 12, 2018 from https://www.gov.uk. government/speeches/closing-the-achievement.gap. 4 Cowburn, A. (2017, August 3). Schools need 50 years to close the attainment gap between disadvantaged pupils and their richer peers, finds study. Independent. Retrieved May 12, 2018 from https://www.independent.co.uk > News > UK > UK Politics. 5 Gillborn and Mirza (2000) point out that population data are reported by England and Wales (which are part of Britain, including Scotland). 6 Gillborn and Mirza (2000) note that the database was generated under the newly created Ethnic Minority Assessment Grant (Office for Standards in Education, 1999). 7 In England, compulsory schooling consists of four key stages: (a) Key Stage 1, ages 5 to 7 years; (b) Key Stage 2, ages 7 to 11 years; (c) Key Stage 3, 11 to 14 years; (d) Key Stage 4, 14 to 16 years. At Stage 4, students take the GCSE examinations (Glevey, 2007, p. 12, note 2). 8 See, for example, Bhatti (1999); Connolly (1998); Gillborn and Gipps (1996)—all cited in Gillborn and Mirza (2000, p. 17, note 50). 9 Glevey (2007), in his reference to Black pupils, includes pupils of African, African European, African Caribbean, African American, or African other descent. 10 Academic achievement in writing and reading are also reported. 11 Glevey (2007) also shows achievement results (but does not discuss them) for Irish, Travellers of Irish heritage, Gypsy Roma, mixed groups, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi students (see p. 5, Table.7.1). 12 The following study by Crozier (2009) also includes a theme of “parents,” but the primary focus is on “teachers.” 13 The names of the towns are pseudonyms. 14 “Damn facety” is a Jamaican patois word meaning “insolent,” “arrogant,” or “rude.” 15 The purpose of the Hart et al. (2004) study was to examine the views of nine classroom teachers (infant education; primary; secondary) who had rejected deficit thinking— i.e., notion of fixed ability. The researchers sought to investigate the participants’ teaching practices in order to identify the principle concepts and methods that characterize teaching unimpeded from determinist assumptions of students’ ability. 16 For an elaboration of her views on streaming in England, see Benn (2011b).

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17 See Valencia and Pearl (2010) for a critique of the standards-based school reform movement in the United States. 18 Dyson and Gallannaugh (2008) note that “England [unlike the U.S.] does not have a special educational system based on the identification of students as having disabilities of one or another type. Instead, the English system enables help to be provided to students on the basis of assessments of their individual ‘special educational needs’” (p. 36). 19 Given that White British students in the United Kingdom are, by far, the majority group in public schools, they also constitute the majority (in absolute numbers) for SEN (Lindsay et al., 2006). 20 Crozier (2005) uses the term Black Caribbean interchangeably with Black. 21 Gillborn et al. (2012) use the term Black Caribbean interchangeably with Black. 22 For information on the GCSE examinations, see note 2 in this chapter. 23 See Gillborn et al. (2012, p. 124, Table 7.1, column 3). 24 All names of parents are pseudonyms.

References Araújo, M. (2007). “Modernising the comprehensive principle”: Selection, setting and the institutionalisation of educational failure. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 28, 241–257. Archer, L. (2008). The impossibility of minority ethnic educational “success”? An examination of the discourses of teachers and pupils in British secondary schools. European Educational Research Journal, 7, 89–107. Benn, M. (2011a, August 8). Streaming primary school pupils labels them for life. The Guardian. Retrieved June 1, 2018 from https://www.theguardian.com/education/ 2011/aug/08/streaming-pupils-limits-aspirations. Benn, M. (2011b). School wars:The battle for Britain’s education. London, England:Verso. Berhanu, G., & Dyson, A. (2012). Special education in Europe, overrepresentation of minority students. In J. Banks (Ed), Encyclopedia of diversity in education. 2070–2073. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Bhatti, G. (1999). Asian children at home and at school: An ethnographic study. London, England: Routledge. Boyle, B., & Charles, M. (2011). Education in a multicultural environment: Equity issues in teaching and learning in the school system in England. International Studies in Sociology of Education, 21, 299–314. Connolly, P. (1998). Racism, gender identities and young children: Social relations in a multiethnic, inner-city primary school. London, England: Routledge. Crozier, G. (2005). “There’s a war against our children”: Black educational underachievement revisited. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 26, 585–598. Crozier, G. (2009). South Asian parents’ aspirations versus teachers’ expectations in the United Kingdom. Theory Into Practice, 48, 290–296. DOI 10.1080/00405804903192821. Crozier, G., & Davies, J. (2007). Hard to reach parents or hard to reach schools? A discussion of home-school relations, with particular reference to Bangladeshi and Pakistani parents. British Journal of Educational Research, 33, 295–313. Department for Education and Skills. (2006). Ethnicity and education: The evidence on minority ethnic pupils aged. (pp. 5–16). London, England: Author. Department for Education. (2010). Statistical first release. School workforce in England. London: Author.

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Dyson, A. (2009). Philosophy, politics and economics? The story of inclusive education in England. In D. Mitchell (Ed.), Contextualizing inclusive education: Evaluating old and new international perspective (pp. 63–88). London, England: Routledge. Dyson, A., & Gallannaugh, F. (2008). Disproportionality in special needs education in England. The Journal of Special Education, 42, 36–46. Dyson, A., & Kozleski, E. (2008). Disproportionality in special education: A transatlantic phenomenon. In L. Florian & M. J. McLoughlin (Eds.), Disability classifications in education: Issues and perspectives (pp. 170–190). Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press. Gillborn, D. (2008). Racism and education: Coincidence or conspiracy? London, England: Routledge. Gillborn, D., & Gipps, C. (1996). Recent research on the achievements of ethnic minority pupils (Report for the Office for the Standards in Education). London, England: HMSO. Gillborn, D., & Mirza, H. S. (2000). Educational inequality: Mapping race, class and gender—a synthesis of research evidence (Report HMI 232). London: Office for Standards in Education. Retrieved May 10, 2018 from dera.ioe.ac.uk/4428/. Gillborn, D., Rollock, N.,Vincent, C., & Ball, S. J. (2012). “You got a pass, so what more do you want?”: Race, class and gender interactions in the educational experiences of the Black middle class. Race Ethnicity and Education, 15, 121–139. Gillies, V., & Robinson, Y. (2012). “Including” while excluding: Race, class and behaviour support units. Race Ethnicity and Education, 15, 157–174. Glevey, K. E. (2007). Pupils of African heritage, mathematics education and social justice. Philosophy of Mathematics Education Journal, 20, 1–15. Gould, J. (2009). The interaction between developmental assessment, deficit thinking and home language in the education of Aboriginal children: A community case study. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of South Australia, Research Centre for Languages and Cultures. Hart, S., Dixon, A., Drummond, M. J., & McIntyre, D. (2004). Learning without limits. Maidenhead, Berkshire, England: Open University Press. Labour Party. (1997). New Labour because Britain deserves better. London, England: Author. Lindsay, G., Pather, S., & Strand, S. (2006). Special educational needs and ethnicity: Issues of overand under-representation (Research Report RR757). University of Warwick, Coventry, England: Centre for Educational Development, Appraisal and Research, Institute of Education. Retrieved August 1, 2018 from https://www.naldic.org.uk/Resources/ NALDIC/Research%20and%20information/Documents/RR757.pdf. Mizra, H. (2005). “The more things change, the more they stay the same”: Assessing black underachievement 35 years on. In B. Richardson (Ed.), Tell it like it is: How our schools fail black children (pp. 15–24). London, England: Bookmarks. Office for Standards in Education. (1999). Raising the attainment of minority ethnic pupils. London, England: Author. Osborne, J. W. (2001). Academic disidentification: Unraveling underachievement among Black boys. In R. Majors (Ed.), Educating our Black children: New directions and radical approaches (pp. 45–58). London, England: RoutledgeFalmer. Roithmayr, D. (1998). Deconstructing the distinction between merit and bias. California Law Review, 85, 1449–1507. Roithmayr, D. (2000). Barriers to entry: A market lock-in model of discrimination. Virginia Law Review, 86, 727–799. Roithmayr, D. (2004). Locked in segregation. Virginia Journal of Social Policy and the Law, 12, 197–259. Times Education Supplement. (2008, September 5). Wealth is exam spur, p. 12.

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Valencia, R. R. (1997). Genetic pathology model of deficit thinking. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 42–112). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Pearl, A. (2010). Conclusion: (A) The bankruptcy of the standardsbased school reform movement: (B) Toward the construction of meaningful school reform: Democratic education. In R.R.Valencia, Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 148–158). Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Wright, C. (2010). Othering difference: Framing identities and representation in black children’s schooling in the British context. Irish Educational Studies, 29, 305–320.

8 OTHER EUROPEAN COUNTRIES (IRELAND; BELGIUM)

The European Union (EU), established in 1993, consists of 28 countries1 and had an estimated total population of 512.6 million people in 2018,2 making it the third largest population in the world after China and India.3 In January 2017 it was estimated that in the EU there were 21.6 million people (4.2% of the total) with citizenship of a non-member country of the EU.4 For this chapter, I was able to identify some deficit thinking literature in education for a number of EU countries5 other than England (subject of chapter 7). Most of this literature is very limited in quantity. Yet, for two countries—Ireland and Belgium—there is enough research that allows me to have sustained discussions on deficit thinking. To review, the mindset of deficit thinking is characterized, in part, by (a) blaming the victim, (b) Othering and binarization, (c) stereotypes, (d) race-, class-, language- and gender-based animus and prejudice, (e) individual and systemic discrimination and oppression, and (f ) a failure of deficit thinkers to consider rival hypotheses for their allegations of why some group members (e.g., Black students) exhibit alleged deficits (e.g., in achievement motivation). In light of the pervasiveness of xenophobia (a groundless fear of strangers)6 in Europe (see, e.g., Lodhi, 2017; Taras, 2012; Tisdall, 2018), it is important to ask: Are deficit thinking and xenophobia related, and if so, how? First, xenophobia is shaped by social attitudes, thus it is learned and not derived from personality traits (Taras, 2012). Likewise, deficit thinking is molded by social attitudes individuals develop. An attitude consists of three components—cognition, affect, and behavior (Katz & Stotland, 1959; Zick, Küpper, & Hövermann, 2011).7 The cognitive component involves what a person knows about an object or a person. The affective dimension, the core aspect of an attitude, involves evaluation of the object or person—qualities that can be viewed

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along a continuum of binaries (e.g., goodness-badness). The behavioral component involves some response or action to protect the object or person (positive attitude) or injure the object or person (negative attitude) (Katz & Stotland). In sum, the frequent demonization of Others—a feature of both xenophobia and deficit thinking—is derived from negative social attitudes. A second way in which deficit thinking and xenophobia are related has to do with Taras’ (2012) assertion that xenophobia is a complex transformative process. In xenophobia there is prejudice—typically seen as some specific negative stereotypes directed at an out-group (e.g., the out-group is clannish and unwilling to assimilate). Then, this demonization leads to more general xenophobia (e.g., the out-group is culturally inferior), followed by discrimination (e.g., very restrictive immigration policy for people from another country). Deficit thinking can also be viewed as a transformative process. Here, there is specific prejudice and hostility toward an undesirable group (e.g., the out-group is blamed for their misfortune for being poor). Then, such pathologizing ensues to more specific expressions of deficit thinking (e.g., out-group families are dysfunctional in child rearing practices; engage in poor management of finances; parents do not foster principle of meritocracy). What follows is some form of intervention (e.g., placing a low-SES Mexican American student who is doing poorly in school in a low-ability reading group). In sum, xenophobia and deficit thinking are transformative processes in which animus leads to oppression. A third manner in which deficit thinking and xenophobia are connected has to do with the self-interest of the in-group. Taras (2012) comments that the fear of strange people “is not always self-induced: it has been regularly cited by those in authority to serve their interests… Political elites are skilled in the art of spreading fear among citizens, though not all resort to it” (p. 71). At times, deficit thinking operates along the same lines. CRT informs us that a case in point is the historical forced school segregation of Black and Mexican American students from their White peers in U.S. public schools. Local school boards, whose members were exclusively White, mandated school segregation based on their desire to maintain their own and their constituents’ power, self-interest, and privilege in the community (Valencia, 2008, chapter 1; Valencia, 2010, chapter 2). On the other hand, by allowing racially mixed schools, school boards would be acknowledging that people of color were equal.

Xenophobia in Europe The present crisis in refugee immigration has generated a wave of xenophobia across Europe, including a surge in ultranationalism and fascism. The ascent of right wing nationalism is a call for many Europeans to preserve their culture (Lodhi, 2017). On a broader scale, xenophobic individuals in Europe can harbor various fears about foreign people, ranging from dismay of: personal

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threat of strangers, cultural change, loss of identity, disloyalty of strangers, and of losing political control (Horn, 2015). Regarding some specific countries, Austria, Germany, Belgium, Sweden, and France have exhibited heightened expressions of xenophobia, and it has now been targeted to reach the populace.8 The resurgence of right wing politics has led to the establishment of extremist political groups, such as Marine Le Penn in France, UK Independent Party in Britain, and the Alternative party of Germany (Af D). In the case of the Af D, in light of their anti-immigration and anti-refugee political agendas, the party has gained substantial momentum and has proved victorious in elections in several states. The Af D garnered dozens of seats in the parliament and about 13% of the total national vote.9 With respect to the immigrants and refugees in Europe who are Muslim, xenophobia (referred to as Islamophobia) becomes magnified (see Taras, 2012). The impact of xenophobia by political leaders has caught the attention of the media. For example, on June 10, 2018, Italy’s new interior minister, Matteo Salvini, banned a ship of 629 refugees from 26 African countries from landing (people included 7 pregnant women, 11 young children, and 123 minors) (Pianigiani, Horowitz, & Minder, 2018). Matteo’s approval ratings skyrocketed (Tisdall, 2018). Another indication of the rising xenophobia and racism in Europe is a 2015 report by the European Commission on Racism and Intolerance, which notes that increased discrimination has been observed against Jews, Blacks, Irish Travellers, Roma, and LGBTI people.10 Of course, xenophobia is not confined to the boundaries of Europe. Khair (2016) reminds us that xenophobia, often in extreme expressions, exists elsewhere in the world. He writes: [Xenophobia takes] the shape of the sort of ethnic cleansing that one witnessed in former Yugoslavia, on the borders of this mythical ‘West,’ or that one sees during Hindu-Muslim riots in India, or Sinhalese-Tamil tensions in Sri Lanka, or ‘ethnic’ conflicts in Rwanda, or the mutual purging of Shias and Sunnis in Iraq and Syria. (p. 1) The United States prides itself on its rich ethnic diversity, yet it also raises a vehement voice in exhibiting xenophobia. Exhibit A is the animus Donald Trump directed toward Mexico and Mexicans in his June 16, 2015 announcement that he would be running for president of the United States. When Mexico sends its people [to the U.S.], they’re not sending their best… They’re sending people that have lots of problems, and they’re bringing those problems with [sic] us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people. (Lee, 2015, p. 1)

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In a follow-up interview on Fox News’ “Media Buzz,” on July 5, 2015 Trump continued his demonization of Mexicans. “What can be simpler or accurately stated? The Mexican Government is forcing their most unwanted people into the United States. They are, in many instances, criminals, drug dealers, rapists, etc.” (Lee, p. 1). Trump’s remarks are not only inflammatory, but they are false. Moon (2018) reviewed empirical studies from scholarly journals and research institutes and concluded: “Overwhelmingly, [these] studies prove that immigration does not lead to higher crime rates.”11 Notwithstanding this conclusion, President Trump continues his obsession with creating highly restrictive immigration policies, as exemplified by (a) his proposal to build a 722-mile wall between Mexico and the United States;12 (b) his desire for a “zero-tolerance” immigration policy that seeks to speed-up criminal prosecution of people apprehended for illegally entering the United States;13 (c) his attempted ban on allowing immigrants from Muslim countries to enter the United States (Tisdall, 2018). In sum, as I next discuss deficit thinking in education in select European countries, it will be important to identify how xenophobia helps shape pathologizing views toward marginalized students and their families.

Ireland Given that chapter 7 dealt with deficit thinking in England, it is fitting at this juncture to cover deficit thinking in Ireland, England’s neighbor to the west. England and Ireland share a past riddled with strife. After England invaded Ireland more than 800 years ago, Ireland has endured religious conflict, war, and sharp political divisions.14 Following the Irish War of Independence of 1919–1921 (also known as the Anglo-Irish War), Ireland finally broke away from England’s yoke. Subsequently, in 1922 both parliaments of England and Ireland ratified a treaty in which Ireland gained independence. The 26-county Irish Free State (later to be named Ireland) eventually claimed itself a republic in 1949. The 6-county Northern Ireland chose to remain in the United Kingdom.15 As of October 2018, Ireland’s population was estimated to be 4,815,178 people, ranking 125 in size in the world.16 Regarding the country’s ethnic composition (2016 estimation), the largest group by far is Irish (82.2%). In descending order, the other following groups are: other White (9.5%), Asian (2.1%), Black (1.4%), and Irish Travellers (0.7%); unspecified (2.6%), and other (1.5%).17 The Irish Travellers, also known pejoratively as “Tinkers,” 18 are an Indigenous ethnic group, officially acknowledged as having a presence in Ireland as far back as the 12th century (Kenny & Binchy, 2009). Although Irish Travellers are few in numbers in the total population count, they are an important group to consider in the present context in light of the severe animus directed toward them (e.g., see Garner, 2004; Kenny & Binchy, 2009; MacGréil, 1996; O’Connell, 2002).

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In the section that follows, I discuss this persistent and pervasive prejudice and discrimination directed toward the Irish Travellers culture and students. It is important to iterate that although Irish Travellers constitute a minuscule fraction of the total Irish population, they endure a substantial amount of Othering and oppression.

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice In this section, I cover deficit thinking as expressed in the following themes: (a) perceptions of Irish Traveller culture and students; (b) teachers; and (c) parents.

Perceptions of Irish Traveller Culture and Students Before I discuss antipathy directed toward Irish Traveller students, it is beneficial to comment on the marginalization of Irish Travellers, in general. Irish Travellers, a nomadic people, have traditionally provided entertainment, service, and goods to local rural Irish towns. Overtime, Irish Travellers were affected by 20th century modernization and some of them gradually migrated to urban centers to find work (e.g., landscaping; scrap collecting) (Kenny & Binchy, 2009). Belonging to a nomadic group is not without adverse consequences. Anti-nomadic racism has roots in antiquity and is considered as the oldest form of racism—noted even in the Book of Genesis (Clébert, 1963; cited in Kenny & Binchy, 2009). Nomadic people throughout the world endure marginalization and disrespect (Leder, 2009). Irish Travellers “are widely acknowledged as one of the most marginalized and disadvantaged groups in Irish society” (O’Connell, 2002, p. 49). With respect to Irish Traveller students, it was not until the 1960s that official provisions began for their education. Currently, all Irish Traveller children are enrolled in state primary schools. Many of these students matriculate to secondary schools, but major problems with TAG abound regarding attendance and completion (Kenny & Binchy, 2009). Only 13% of Irish Traveller students finish second-level education, compared to 92% of settled (i.e., non-nomadic) students. Of those Irish Traveller youth who drop out of secondary school, 55% do so by the time they have reached 15 years of age. Concerning matriculation to tertiary school, 1% of Irish Traveller students do so (English, 2016). Historically, in the 1960s and 1970s the deficit thinking paradigm informed Irish educational policy about the schooling of Irish Traveller children and youth (Kenny & Binchy, 2009). This was the era when deficit thinking scholarship hit an apogee in the United States (Pearl, 1997; Valencia & Solórzano, 1997) and subsequently helped shape educational policy and practice directed toward low-SES students of color, and other poor children and youth in various parts

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of the world (e.g., Brazil, see Gama & de Jesús, 1998, chapter 4, present volume; Fiji, see White, 2014, chapter 6, present volume; United States, see Pearl, 1997, chapter 1, present volume). In Ireland, over time culturally based resistance to the educational inclusion of Irish Traveller students remained high. Currently, at least three issues exist concerning negative perceptions and exclusion germane to Irish Traveller students. First, although the Irish educational system trumpets the need to accommodate the diverse identities of children, the subject of Irish Traveller students is mostly absent from discussions. Rather, these students are problematized in the context of pupils with special educational needs (SEN) (Kenny & Binchy, 2009). As discussed in chapter 7, Irish Traveller students in England are overrepresented in SEN categories of Moderate and Severe Learning Difficulties, and Behavioral, Emotional, and Social Difficulties. In general, Irish Traveller students, compared to their White British peers, are 2.7 times more probable to have SEN (Lindsay, Pather, & Strand, 2006). Similar overrepresentations are also seen in Irish schools. McVeigh and Joyce (2011) report that in Northern Ireland, 54% of Irish Traveller students have been identified as having SEN, compared to 20% of all students.19 A major problem with special education in Ireland is that teachers who instruct students with SEN prefer practices that are aligned with a medical model influenced by alleged deficits of students. O’Gorman and Drudy (2010) comment: “This perception could permit class teachers to feel absolved from responsibility of the progress of students whose education is legislatively part of their remit” (p. 165). In sum, Kenny and Binchy cite the discussion by McDonagh (2002)—who is an Irish Traveller with a disability—and maintain that Irish Traveller culture “could still be a euphemism for either special needs and disadvantage” (p. 125). A second issue pertinent to negative perceptions of Irish Traveller culture and students is what Kenny and Binchy (2009) call “interculturalism,” also known as “multiculturalism” or “multicultural education” in other counties (e.g., the United States; see Banks & Banks, 2016). The contemporary exclusion of Irish Traveller culture in Irish schools can be traced to 19th century Irish textbooks. At that time, antipathy in Irish society was directed toward Irish peasants as seen, for example, in newspapers and magazines. Coolahan (1993) notes that one journalist, as a case in point, described these people as “ignorant, indolent, scheming and totally irrational” (p. 56) and that their economic disadvantagement was caused by the now all-too-familiar deficit thinking notion of culture of poverty (Valencia, 2010, chapter 3).20 Regarding education, Coolahan comments, however, that Irish textbooks were vacuous of such stereotyping and disparagement. The emphasis, he continues, was on the omission of discussions of the realities and accomplishments of poor Irish people. What was underscored, nonetheless, was on colonial racialism in which the curriculum focused on the “the remediation of allegedly impoverished

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people other than the more truly racialist stereotype of races [being] inherently different” (p. 63). One can argue that acts of curricular omission are just as discriminatory as acts of curricular commission (e.g., stereotypes) (Valencia, 2011a; Vasquez Heilig, Brown, & Brown, 2012). Kenny and Binchy (2009) state that the Department of Education and Sciences (DES) in Ireland proclaims that interculturalism should not be conceived as a separate course or an add-on, but rather as an obligation to teach a knowledge of diversity in all subjects. Kenny and Binchy point out that the DES guidelines contain a comprehensive compendium of resource materials, but only a handful of items specifically address Irish Traveller culture. An issue related to the lack of appropriately addressing this culture in the curriculum has to do with what Liégeois (2008) calls the “nomadic mindset.” This notion, he asserts, is problematic because it provides little regarding tangible cultural aspects that can be implemented as curricular material. Kenny and Binchy remark that this mindset has a tendency to romanticize nomadic culture. The authors argue that what is necessary for inclusive interculturalism to take place is to rethink Irish Traveller culture, providing genuine and substantial examples of such diversity. Policymakers, teacher, and curricular experts need to be mindful that “in human societies normality is diverse and diversity is normal, and that normality includes mobile and nomadic lifestyles” (p. 126). In sum, the exclusion of Irish Traveller culture is such a pressing issue that the Irish Seanad (Senate) is considering legislation that will require schools to incorporate Irish Traveller culture and history into the mainstream curriculum (O’Halloran, 2018). A third issue concerning negative perceptions of Irish Traveller culture and students involves language. Kenny and Binchy (2009) note that early scholars of Irish Traveller language (e.g., Macalister, 1937; Sampson, 1891; both cited in Kenny & Binchy, 2009) considered it as “slang, jargon and argot” (p. 123), with all the deficit thinking overtones of anti-social behavior (e.g., criminality) that frequent these referents. Academic scholars have adopted the term Shelta as the name for the language of Irish Travellers, who refer to it as Cant (preferred name by them) or Gammon. Kenny and Binchy assert that in light of sociolinguistic grounds, “Cant is a language” (p. 123) with its own rules (e.g., of syntax and semantics). Some Irish Travellers are also bilingual, speaking Cant with fellow Irish Travellers and Hiberno-English (Irish dialect of English; see Tandl, 2013) with settled people. Furthermore, Cant is actively taught by Irish Traveller parents and other significant others to their children (Binchy, 1994; cited in Kenny & Binchy, 2009). Notwithstanding the richness of Cant and its importance in Irish Traveller culture, it is not taught in Irish schools (Tandl). Kenny and Binchy comment that “the languages [gap] of schools and [Irish] Travellers is wide” (p. 127).21 Given that language is a significant vehicle for the transmission of culture, the curricular exclusion of Cant does not bode well for the identity of

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Irish Traveller students. To summarize this section on animus directed toward Irish Traveller culture and students, the following words by Kenny and Binchy are most fitting: The tendency to see children from marginal groups through the lens of the deficit model persists (reflecting the location of marginality in system structure and policy identified above)….This results in children or their parents being blamed for individual learning problems, knowledge gaps or impoverished home or social backgrounds. (p.127)22

Teachers In Ireland, the 1980s were characterized by enormous emigration, which in turn, was succeeded by heightened immigration. Attitudes of the Irish majority population (primarily Roman Catholic, White, and settled) toward the recent immigrants ranged from a continuum of welcoming them to demonstrating unmitigated enmity and racism (Devine, 2005). The focus of Devine’s study was designed to explore the perceptions and experiences of school teachers regarding the student sector of the new arrivals. For her theoretical framework, Devine draws, in part, from Foucault’s work (Foucault, 1979, 1980) on “Othering.” Devine’s (2005) sample included 8 primary and post-primary schools. They were quite diverse in location (suburban; rural), SES of enrollment (n = 3 low SES; n = 5 mixed SES), enrollment range (250 to 700 students), and ethnicity of the student body (African, Asian, East European, other European, Irish Traveller, Middle Eastern, and Roma—totaling 355 students). The 2 largest groups were African (n = 123, 34.7%) and East European (n = 82, 23.1%).23 Regarding school staff participants, there were 45 individuals (primarily teachers—n = 28, 62.2%). All teachers were White and sedentary (i.e., non-nomadic) in lifestyle. For her method, Devine used semi structured interviews and an in-depth case study of two of the primary schools. In regard to her findings, Devine (2005) reports that the teachers’ perceptions of the immigrant families and their children were partly xenophobic, making distinctions between immigrants who could contribute to Irish society and those who allegedly had opportunistic intentions. One teacher commented: “I suppose for a skilled work force [we need migrants] but I think people who are coming in who want to live off our system, I don’t think any other country would tolerate it so why should we?” (p. 56). Generally, teachers frequently constructed immigrant students in deficit thinking terms, making binary distinctions between “them” and “us.” Sharp interethnic group distinctions were also noted, clearly demonstrating racism and classism. In reference to Eastern European immigrant students, teachers used descriptions, for example, of “bright,” “diligent,” “nice,” “interested,” “good at languages,” and “willingness

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to learn” (p. 62). By contrast, African students (e.g., from Angola, Congo, and Nigeria) were viewed as “boisterous,” “lively,” “demanding,” exuberant,” and having a “natural rhythm” in bodily movement (p. 62). Devine concludes that much of the deficit thinking constructions of the immigrant students could have prevented or lessened by the school having an in-service multicultural training programs for the teachers.

Parents The goal of the study by Hanafin and Lynch (2002) was to examine the views of home-school links as perceived by working-class parents in the Republic of Ireland. The authors contextualize their theoretical framework based on two strands of understanding parental involvement. One prong, referred to as “peripheral,” has to do with compensatory intervention for children and later intervention to minimize premature school leaving. This strand’s rationale “derives from a cultural deficit model of explaining school failure” (p. 35) that attempts to “fix” alleged deficient parents.24 The second strand, called “proximal,” pertains to middle-class parents who serve as, for example, Parent Teacher Association officers and representatives on parental councils of governance. The rationale for this strand stems from the belief that parental involvement has a positive effect on children’s academic achievement (e.g., Jeynes, 2011; Valencia, 2015, chapter 8). Hanafin and Lynch assert that explaining school failure via peripheral parental involvement is structurally misdirected because it focuses on the family and individuals, rather than on the school system itself. As such, it is important to explore closely the perceptions of working-class parents regarding home-school connections. Hanafin and Lynch (2002) conducted their investigation in a large urban location in the Republic of Ireland, characterized as having: parents whose subsistence was contingent on receiving welfare, high unemployment rates, low involvement rates in schools, and some students dropping out of school. Initially, 220 notes were sent home to parents inviting them to participate in the research project; 35 parents communicated an interest in being part of the study; 21 eventually participated. The authors do not mention the ethnicity off the participant parents, therefore I assume they were White Irish. Given the low response rate (9.6%) and the volunteer nature of the study, the investigation may be subject to sampling bias.25 The authors used an informal approach of group interviews, including three rounds of meetings for three different groups. The main questions participants were asked to consider were quite general: “What is education? What is education for?” (p. 39). The findings of the study demonstrate that parents defied the deficit thinking literature asserting that low-SES parents (and parents of color) do not value education (e.g., see Valencia, 2015, chapter 8; Valencia & Black, 2002). Yet, the

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participant parents, as a whole, reported they felt excluded from school matters that affected them and their children. More specifically, the participants communicated they were: (a) treated as tokens while serving on parents’ councils; (b) felt unwelcome during school visitations; (c) experienced intimation, nervousness, and anxiety in interactions with teachers; (d) endured indignation and frustration in regard to decision-making that affected them and their children, including, for example, matters about Holy Communion, textbook choices, and school uniforms. Hanafin and Lynch (2002) conclude that the failure of the parents to become engaged in their children’s schooling surely cannot be attributed to their lack of interest. Rather, it is incumbent upon the school to be proactive in constructing avenues and programs for genuine parental involvement, particularly in shared governance. Citing Valencia (1997) and Hallgarten (2000), Hanafin and Lynch note: “Meaningful participation by working-class parents at the individual school level can build citizenship experience and extend parental participation at local and national levels” (p. 47).

Belgium Belgium is located in Western Europe and shares borders with France, Germany, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands.26 In 1830, Belgium became independent from the Netherlands, and during WW I and II Germany occupied Belgium. Subsequently in the last 50 years, Belgium has enjoyed prosperity as a technologically advanced, modern nation and became a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the EU.27 Politically and linguistically, Belgium is divided into two regions: Dutch-speaking Flanders in the north and Frenchspeaking Wallonia in the south (Stevens, 2008). Due to mounting tensions between the two regions in recent years, both locations have been granted constitutional amendments giving them autonomy and formal recognition.28 Belgium, a highly urbanized country (98%), had an estimated population in 2017 of 11,491,346 people. Regarding ethnicity, Belgium is somewhat diverse: Belgian (75.0%), Italian (4.1%), Moroccan (3.7%), French (2.4%), Turkish (2%), Dutch (2%), and other (12.8%). Official languages are Dutch (60%), French (40%), and German (less than 1%). Roman Catholicism is the predominant religion (50%), with other religions (other Christian, Muslim, Jewish, and Buddist) forming the remaining.29 Currently, the two largest non-EU immigrant groups in Belgium are the Moroccan and the Turkish communities. Considered the “new” immigrants,30 Moroccan and Turkish newcomers began to arrive in the 1960s to work in low-ranking, low-paying jobs in the steel and mining industries (Mampaey & Zanoni, 2015). Before I cover the deficit thinking themes, it would be informative to comment briefly on TAG and segregation in Belgian public schools. Ample evidence demonstrates that Moroccan and Turkish students, even

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second-generation ones, academically achieve lower compared to their native Belgian peers. In regard to first-generation immigrants, Turkish students—although they lag behind their Belgian counterparts—fare better than Moroccan students in educational attainment. Turkish students have a higher percentage of primary education completion (52.8%) than Moroccan students (21.5%). Also, Turkish students have a considerably higher percentage of earning a diploma (85.9%) contrasted with the Moroccan group (44.3%) (Timmerman, Vanderwaeren, & Crul, 2003). Concerning secondgeneration Moroccan and Turkish students, in comparison to their Belgian peers, they have higher rates of grade retention, placement in vocational education, insufficient competency in the second language, and dropping out of school. Furthermore, these students are three times less probable of matriculating to higher education (Timmerman et al.). According to Agirdag and Van Houtte (2011), in comparison to other Western countries school segregation is extreme in Belgium. For example, the authors calculated that in multiethnic Belgian cities about 84% of native students (i.e., non-immigrant background) attend schools in which they comprise the numerical majority. Reports find that such segregation is one of the chief negative factors in shaping TAG in the Belgian educational system. 31 In the United States, this connection is also clearly present (Valencia, 2008, chapter 1; Valencia, 2011b; and Valencia, 2015, chapter 4). Intensifying the poorer academic achievement performance of ethnic minority students in Belgian schools is that a disproportionate number of teachers in highenrollment minority schools have less experience and higher turnover rates. 32 For an international comparison, U.S. public schools with high enrollments of low-SES students of color have teachers with, for example, less years of teaching experience, greater percentages of teaching in out-of-field subjects, and teaching with emergency credentials (Valencia, 2015, chapter 5). Another factor exacerbating the degree of school segregation in Belgium is that the parents have free choice in where their children can attend school. As such, by avoiding high-enrollment minority, low-SES schools—which native parents and students perceive as providing poor quality instruction—the segregation of native and immigrant background students intensifies (Agirdag & Van Houtte, 2011; Zanoni & Mampaey, 2013).

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice In this section, I discuss the following deficit thinking themes pertinent to Belgium: (a) students’ perceptions of school failure and success and teacher racism; (b) the role of Flemish staff members in perpetuating monocultural school practices; (c) language.

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Students’ Perceptions of School Failure and Success and Teacher Racism The investigation by Clycq, Nouwen, and Vandenbroucke (2014) is novel in that the authors asked immigrant secondary school students—as well as principals, teachers, and parents—in Flanders to provide possible reasons for why these pupils perform poorly and/or well in school. The authors hypothesized that in light of the hegemonic discourse of meritocracy in Flemish society,33 coupled with the high degree of social, ethnic, and economic stratification present, the participants (mostly teachers) would base their responses on a “deficit thinking perspective [that focused on] deficiencies originating outside the schools” (p. 796). The authors, citing Valencia (2010) and Valencia and Black (2002), in part, build a strong case for how deficit thinking helps to perpetuate social inequalities in Flemish schools. Clycq et al. (2014) conducted their study in ethnically diverse Antwerp and Ghent—second and third largest cities in Flanders, respectively—as well as in Genk. Regarding the student sample, the authors sought to survey the entire population of the second grade of the secondary education level (14- to 15-year olds) in the three cities. The final sample numbered 11,015 students— approximately 50% of the population. About 43% of the sample students had at least one grandparent who was foreign born. Moroccan and Turkish students were overrepresented in the vocational education track. The Flemish education system is highly stratified, with tracking beginning as early as age 12 years (Mampaey & Zanoni, 2015). Contingent on their academic performance in primary education, students are channeled into college preparatory (highest track), technical, or vocational education (lowest track). In a related study, Mampaey & Zanoni (2014) report that given the average lower academic achievement of ethnic minority students, they are often segregated in the vocational tracks, which negatively affects their educational development. Citing other research findings, Mampaey and Zanoni (2014) note that greater than 70% of ethnic minority students in Flemish schools are sorted into vocational tracks. In Clycq et al. (2014), all students were administered a battery of selfconstructed items (0/1 response) asking participants to provide explanations for their school failure (e.g., factor: lack of effort—item: I study too little; factor: lack of competence—item: I’m too stupid). Examples of the school success factor and items are: factor: individual merit—item: I can concentrate well; factor: positive study climate—item: my parents help me well. In addition to the student survey, the authors undertook an ethnographic fieldwork involving focus groups in which 114 pupils participated (Chinese; Moroccan; native Flemish; Polish; Turkish). Finally, the authors conducted a qualitative triangulation study involving (a) autobiographical interviewing/other interviewing,

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(b) focus group discussions, and (c) participant observations in which parents, teachers, and principals were asked to offer explanations why the students failed and/or succeeded in school. With respect to findings, Clycq et al. (2014) report that based on regression analyses for the student data, the hypotheses resting on “the theory of deficit thinking are largely supported” (p. 808). Students in the less prestigious tracks (who are overwhelmingly Moroccan and Turkish pupils) held negative perceptions about their family and home environment as factors, as well as themselves (having a lack of personal competencies) in explaining their school failure. In a way, this is lamentable in that these students actually internalized the deficit thinking directed by others toward their families and them. The problematization of the home environment was also a focal point in some teachers discourse. One, teaching in a Gent school, commented: At home, there is practically no education, leaving aside if they are even followed up [by their parents]….Honestly, I think they’re all, quote unquote, ‘poor souls’…there are some abuses, believe me. It all comes down to what I call language deficiencies. There is no education. The boys don’t even stand a chance, they aren’t educated, they are deserted. (p. 808) In conclusion, Clycq et al. (2014) note that it is common for those in power in Flemish education (White middle-class individuals), as a consequence of their position of dominance, to possess “the ability to claim what is right and what is valuable, and to discard that what is deviant, thereby pathologizing dominated social groups” (p. 798). Furthermore, the authors comment that the combination of the notions of meritocracy and deficit thinking means that “structural inequalities within the educational system and the broader society are ignored” (p. 798), a point underscored by Valencia (2015) in his analysis of the U.S. educational system. The investigation by Stevens (2008) is similar to that of Clycq et al. (2014) who primarily focused on immigrant and native Flemish students’ explanations for school failure and success. Stevens also concentrates on secondary school students’ perceptions—in this case, their sense of teacher racism. For his theoretical framework, the author draws from symbolic interactionism (SI) (see Blumer, 1998; Dennis & Martin, 2005; cited in Stevens). SI rests on three premises: (a) individuals respond toward things (e.g., another person; a situation) in light of the meanings such experiences have for them; (b) these meanings emerge out of social interactions; (c) once established, such meanings lead to an interpretative process involving change, dependent on the situation. Stevens, employing SI principles, explores how students define teacher racism. As well, he examines

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the nature of the underlying processes that shape the students’ actual perceptions of racism. Stevens (2008) conducted his ethnographic investigation in Riverside (pseudonym),34 a small ethnically diverse Flemish secondary school. Riverside, located in a highly urban area, has a large number of students who speak Turkish. The school offers, in part, vocational programs (e.g., electricity; mechanics). The investigation consists of two parts. First, the author focused on one specific group of students enrolled in 5VC, “Vocational Car Mechanics”—and their teacher (Mr. Gerrard), referred to as the deputy form tutor. The participant pupils numbered 18, and included 9 Turkish, 6 Flemish, and 3 Moroccan students. All students were among the lowest achieving at Riveride, and were older than their expected age of 17 years. Teachers considered these students in 5VC “very difficult to teach” and noted that “overt racial hostility” (p. 177) existed between the Turkish/Moroccan students and their Flemish counterparts. Although the focus was on 5VC students, Stevens conducted a second study in which he concentrated on 16 Flemish and 15 non-European students (mostly Turkish) and 11 teachers. Serving as a participant observer, Stevens employed seven semi structured interviews in which he indirectly explored the students’ experiences by asking questions and promoting discussions about characteristics of “good” and “bad” teachers (p. 177). Based on the students’ interview comments, the teachers are deemed to be racist in light of seven different behaviors (e.g., general disrespect for students; lower expectations of students; favoritism toward certain students). In short, such teacher practices created an in-group (Flemish)/out-group (immigrant) binary. Stevens (2008) reports he also identified five ways how students’ perceptions of teacher racism change based on teacher-students interactions in a specific context. Examples of these processes are: intentionality of racism; particular/universal expression of racism; students’ evaluations of teachers’ overall role performance. For findings about the above processes in which student’s perceptions undergo transformation, Stevens (2008) first comments on the intentionality of racism. He reports that some 5VC pupils stated Mr. Gerrard, their tutor, made racist jokes. The students noted that a racist joke is considered racist when the joke is intended or serious in meaning. For example, in one small group interview, three Moroccan boys recalled: PAKI:  I

don’t like it that he tells these jokes, like you know, about foreigners, but come on, these jokes are like you know…like with racist intentions. CHAMP:  Anyway, he is always joking to the Turkish pupils [laughs]! SHAKUR:  Moroccans are dangerous [laughs]! With respect to the process of particular/universal expression of racism, students remarked that Mr. Gerrard directed his racist comments to particular

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kinds of students. Mr. Gerrard admitted that he used racist insults as a response to Turkish pupils who continually communicated in Turkish in the classroom. For example, Cimi, who spoke to his classmate, Hagi, in Turkish angered their tutor, who said: “Cimi, I’ve got a job for you….they need monkeys in the zoo of Antwerp!” (p. 181). In sum, the substantive framework of SI has much to inform us about how teacher racism operates in deficit thinking nuances vis-à-vis marginalized students in the classroom. Stevens (2008) notes that his findings cast incertitude on the utility of defining a racist incident as any circumstance which is thought to be racist by the victim or some other person. He continues: Such definitions rely on interpretation of events, which is necessarily subjective, and can result in situations where similar incidents have attached different meanings. Instead it could be more accurate to talk about ‘claims of teacher racism’ and specific ‘forms of racism,’ related to specific definitions of racism. (p. 185)

Role of Flemish Staff Members in Perpetuating Monocultural School Practices Mampaey and Zanoni (2015) sought to investigate the role of Flemish secondary school staff members in reproducing monocultural school practices (MCSPs)—also referred to as monocultural education—in schools with substantial proportions of non-Western, ethnic minority students. The authors focused on macro-microlevel linkages. Specifically, Mampaey and Zanoni (2015) examined how two state-regulated macrolevel MCSPs (instruction solely in Dutch; teaching of a Western-centric curriculum) are influential in shaping microlevel schooling processes that reproduce MCSPs and institutional racism. Mampaey and Zanoni (2015) conducted their investigation in 4 ethnically diverse secondary schools (enrollments of immigrant ethnic minority students ranged from 19% to 55%). Participants included 24 staff members (n = 12 teachers of diverse instructional fields; n = 4 principals; n = 4 administrators; n = 4 pedagogues). “Pedagogues are professionals engaged with guidance of students, supportive staff so to speak” ( J. Mampaey, personal communication, November 11, 2018). All participants were of Flemish ethnicity, reflecting the absence of overall presence of ethnic minority personnel employed in the Flemish educational system. For data collection, the authors administered semistructured interviews, including open-ended questions covering, for example, educational curricula, policies about religion, and language practices. Following a content analysis of the data, the authors conducted a critical discourse analysis of the responses of the participants.

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In regard to findings, Mampaey and Zanoni (2015) report that the two stateregulated MCSPs reflected a “taken-for-granted character” (p. 8) in the participants’ responses. With respect to the macrolevel mandate of exclusive use of Dutch for instruction, one teacher noted:” [W]e are a public school…a Belgian, a Flemish public school and we teach in Dutch. The common language is Dutch and no other” (p. 8). As such, these practices are firmly aligned with the macrolevel monocultural model of education. The state mandate of using Dutchonly instruction is so entrenched in Flemish education that immigrants who are recent arrivals are taught in segregated classes that concentrate on students learning Dutch. This hegemonic practice is reminiscent of what many Spanishspeaking Mexican American youngsters had to endure in Southwestern U.S. public schools primarily during the 1920s to 1950s when English-only “sink or swim” instruction and the “No Spanish rule” were commonplace (Valencia, 2008, chapter 4). To sum, in Flemish society and schools the inability to speak Dutch continues to have a powerful negative connotation. Mampaey and Zanoni (2015) underscore that the representations of “ethnic minority students lacking key [linguistic proficiency] skills, along a ‘deficit model,’ [is at] the core of the Flemish monocultural model of education…Valencia, 1997)” (p. 10). The authors also report that the staff members’ situated meanings are different from the state-regulated MCSPs. The authors found five meanings of the nonregulated MCSPs. For example, they: (a) help the school to maintain control over students; (b) foster ethnic minority immigrant students to acculturate in Flemish society; (c) foster better school-home relationships, though unidirectional. In their conclusion, Mampaey and Zanoni (2015) assert that monocultural practices are troublesome because they reproduce institutional racism, which in turn, perpetuates unequal power arrangements between the dominant Flemish majority and the marginalized ethnic minority groups. Citing Valencia (1997), the authors comment: “Ethnic minority students are hereby “Othered” and MCSPs are justified as means to reduce their difference, understood as an (educational) deficit” (p.10).

Language In the above investigation by Mampaey and Zanoni (2015), the authors center on language exclusion as a force in the perpetuation of MCSPs. For the next deficit thinking theme, I also focus on language suppression in Flemish schools, as author Agirdag (2010) makes an even stronger case how Dutch monolingualism is imposed on Turkish secondary students from immigrant communities. The author’s primary purpose is to explore the opinions of bilingual Turkish students and monolingual native Flemish students about bilingualism in the context of a Flemish monolingual educational system.

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In the case of political pressure toward Dutch monolingualism in Belgium, Agirdag (2010) provides a capsule discussion of what has transpired in Europe and the United States. His periodization covers: (a) 1920–1960: early assimilation of non-dominant language speakers; (b) 1960–1990: differentialist turn (value of bilingualism); (c) 1990–present: return of assimilation (anti-bilingual ideology). The author’s historical account is remarkably similar to what scholars have written about politics and bilingualism, and bilingual education in the United States (e.g., Gándara & Hopkins, 2010, Valencia, 2015, chapter 6). For example, regarding Agirdag’s (2010) coverage of the differentialist turn (19601990), U.S. scholar Valencia (2015, p. 203) notes: More recent empirical studies and literature reviews report that bilinguals, compared to monolinguals, demonstrate advantages in various areas of cognition, including executive control, memory, metalinguistic awareness, creativity, visual-spatial skills, and intellectual performance (e.g., Bialystok, 2001, 2011; Gathercole et al., 2010; Marian & Shook, 2012). Given that language is a vehicle of culture, being bilingual also carries affective benefits. Contextualizing this in the areas of multicultural education, identity development, and student empowerment, Zirkel (2008) comments that studies consistently find that students of color (including those who are bilingual or are learning a second language) who have solid and positive identities as racial/ethnic beings tend to have higher levels of academic achievement, educational aspirations, academic self-assurance, and engagement in school work.35 Notwithstanding the cognitive and affective development benefits of bilingualism, Belgium continues to have two official languages for instruction in schools—Dutch in Flanders and French in Wallonia. As such, bilingual instruction is forbidden (Agirdag, 2010). Agirdag (2010) conducted his study in the Flanders province of Limburg, an area of ethnically diverse communities. From five secondary schools, he selected 19 bilingual Turkish and monolingual native Flemish students—all male.36 Most of the Turkish participants were from working-class background and were overrepresented in vocational tracks. The author administered semi structured, indepth interviews—a comprehensive approach that allowed the participants to speak at length in a relaxed setting. Although the interviewer was a DutchTurkish bilingual, the interviews were primarily held in Dutch—though the bilingual students were not restricted to speak Turkish. Regarding findings, Agirdag (2010) reports that in light of the strong emphasis on imposing the use of Dutch, the participants’ responses were in the hypothesized direction. None of the 19 students “spoke of any [educational] benefits of being bilingual. Instead…[both language groups] articulated the favourable aspects of competence in Dutch” (p. 313). Based on participants’

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replies, the author discuses three methods, in which the exclusive use of Dutch is enforced. First, teachers and staff members consistently extol the exclusive use of Dutch for the Turkish students’ school success and occupational future. Ersan, a Turkish student 37 commented: “Actually I do, I want to go to college if I can. My teacher said that I could handle it, but only if I improve my proficiency in Dutch, you know, I make lot of writing errors and things like that” (p. 314). A second way in which Dutch monolingualism is compelled in Flemish schools involves the use of punishment for speaking Turkish in schools. Arif, a Turkish pupil, revealed what occurred when the superintendent saw him speaking Turkish. “Sometimes she says nothing, but most of the time you get a warning. After these warnings, you have to stay behind in detention…Last year I had to stay behind in detention, this year, not yet” (p. 315). This type of draconian treatment for a student speaking his/her mother tongue in school has a striking international parallel. Decades past, as late as the mid-1960s, Mexican American students in an El Paso, Texas (U.S.) high school were given detention slips by teachers for speaking Spanish during school hours and were thus required to attend a detention class for an hour after school (Valencia, 2008, pp. 156–158). Agirdag (2010) discusses a third way in which Dutch monolingualism is imposed, a method involving the cultural repertoire of the school. Bilingual students’ home languages are excluded as seen, for example, in the assignment of books to read and access to media. With respect to the latter, the author relates a powerful case of censorship. Serkan, a Turkish student, commented that he prefers to read Hürriyet, a Turkish newspaper that covers European news. The student informed the interviewer that not only does the school multimedia centre lack the newspaper, “But it is also forbidden to check Turkish websites. I tried once. Each lunch break we go to the multimedia centre and a woman constantly supervises you so you can’t go on Turkish websites” (p. 315). Such pressure for Dutch monolingualism is quite ironic, Agirdag (2010) notes, given that “some bilingualism is highly valued” (p. 315). This binary speaks for itself: French and English are referred to as ‘white’ languages, while Turkish or Arabic are considered ‘black’ languages” (p. 318). To sum, Agirdag (2010) underscores that the insistence of having Dutch monolingualism in Flemish schools constitutes discriminatory, intentional policies and practices. In a related scholarly paper, Agirdag (2008) comments that contemporary problems of immigrant background students in Belgium are believed to be based on deficit thinking, in which the students’ language is deemed deficient and has little value in classroom instruction. He closes his 2010 article by stating that the Flemish educational system should embrace the Turkish language, including implementing Turkish-Dutch bilingual education and extolling the benefits of bilingualism.

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Notes 1 Members of the EU are: Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Croatia, Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Malta, the Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, and the United Kingdom. The EU was formed to foster economic integration and growth (hence, the Euro, the official currency of the majority of the EU member states), military security, political ties, and promotion of cooperation in matters of asylum and immigration. Retrieved October 3, 2018 from www.britannica. com/topic/European-Union. 2 European Union population, 1960–2018, data, chart, calendar. Retrieved October 3, 2018 from https://tradingeconomics.com/european-union. 3 Living in the EU. Retrieved October 3, 2018 https://europa.eu/european-union/ about-eu/figures/living_en. 4 Migration and migrant population statistics. Retrieved October 3, 2018 from https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php?title=Migration_and_ migrant_population_statistics. 5 These other countries are: Belgium; Germany; Finland; Ireland; Netherlands; Norway; Scotland; Spain; Sweden. All belong to the EU, except Norway. 6 Khair (2016) notes: “‘xenophobia’ comes from the Greek words ξένος (xeons), meaning ‘stranger’ or ‘foreigner,’ and φόβος (phobos), meaning ‘fear’” (p. 2). He defines xenophobia as “a groundless or unreasonable fear of foreigners or strangers or that which is strange” (p. 2). 7 Katz and Stotland (1959) define an attitude as: “an individual’s tendency or predisposition to evaluate an object or the symbol of that object in a certain way” (p. 428). 8 Rise of xenophobia in Europe caused by loss of identity–experts. Sputnik International. Retrieved September 1, 2018 from https://sputniknews.com/europe/ 201612161048628121-rise-xenophobia-cultural-identity/. 9 Dismay as hard-right AFD wins parliament seats in German election. The Japan Times. Retrieved October 13, 2018 from https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2017/09/25/ world/politics-diplomacy-world/german-election-result-spell-trouble-merkelmacron-deal-europe/#.XZNoRVUzbIU. 10 Intolerance and xenophobia on the rise in Europe. United Nations Regional Informational Centre. Retrieved September 1, 2018 from https://www.unric.org/en/ latest-un-buzz/30377-intolerance-and-xenophobia-on-the-rise-in-europe. 11 The scholarly journals Moon (2018) mentions are Criminology and Journal of Youth and Justice; the research institutes are the American Immigration Council and the Cato Institute. 12 Everything we know about Donald Trump’s proposed border wall. Fortune. Retrieved October 9, 2018 from https://fortune.com/2018/01/19/donald-trump-border-wall/. 13 Q & A: Trump administration’s “zero-tolerance” immigration policy. Human Rights Watch. Retrieved October 9, 2018 from https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/08/16/ qa-trump-administrations-zero-tolerance-immigration-policy. 14 The conquest of Ireland, 1169-72-The National Archives, Surrey, England. Retrieved October 23, 2018 from http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/utk/Ireland/conquest. htm. 15 History of Ireland: Wikipedia. Retrieved October 7, 2018 from https//en.wikipedia. org/wiki/History_of_Ireland. 16 Ireland population (2018). Worldometers. Retrieved October 7, 2018 from http://www. worldometers.info/world-population/ireland-population/. 17 Ireland ethnic groups-IndexMundi. Retrieved October 13, 2018 from https://www. indexmundi.com/ireland/ethnic_groups.html.

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18 Kenny and Binchy (2009) note that the dictionary term for “tinker” is “tinsmith” (one who works or fixes objects made of tin or tinplate), but onetime the word took on a pejorative connotation “reflected in terms of ‘dirty tinker’ or ‘tinkering’ denoting botched work” (p. 119). 19 See Berhanu and Dyson (2012) for a brief discussion of the overrepresentation of ethnic minority and language minority students in special education in a number of European countries—for example, Austria; Denmark; Iceland; Sweden; Switzerland. 20 Coolahan (1993) quotes a journalist who is cited in Lebow (1976). 21 The issue of lack of language support for language minority students (mostly immigrants) in Irish schools is also discussed by Bryan (2010) and Lyons (2010). Lyons undertook a comprehensive survey of English language support teachers who work in 70 post-primary schools. The author’s major findings are: First, the support teachers stated that mainstream subject teachers had deficit thinking views of migrant students (ethnicity of these students not described by Lyons). The mainstream teachers held low expectations of the students’ cognitive development because of their alleged deficits in English. Second, the language support teachers reported their “need for training” (p. 296) as a significant factor (also, see Bryan, for similar sentiments of Irish mainstream teachers). In her study of a secondary school in Ireland, Bryan (2010) reports two significant findings: (a) there was no funding or commitment to hire an appropriate number of qualified bilingual teachers; (b) the school practiced a “withdrawal” (i.e., pull-out) system to provide language support for ethnic minority students; thus, this led to segregation, marginalization, and stigmatization. 22 For this statement on deficit thinking, Kenny and Binchy (2009) draw from Henderson (2005) who focuses on migrant farmworkers’ children in Australia. Kenny and Binchy comment that Hendersen’s observations also apply to Irish Travellers. 23 See Devine (2005, pp. 54–55, Table I and II, respectively). 24 Blaming alleged incompetent parents for their children’s poor academic performance has been asserted in a number of international deficit thinking studies (e.g., Belgium: Clycq, Nouwen, & Vandenbroucke, 2014; Canada: Guo, 2006; England: Crozier, 2005; U.S.: Swanson, 1991; cited in Valencia, 2010, p. 113). 25 Sampling bias results in a distortion of results influenced by the way the sample was formed, contributing to a sample not representative of the initial population. Hanfin and Lynch (2002) note that the parents not selected “may feel even more alienated and excluded from their children’s schooling than do these [participating] parents” (p. 38). 26 Which countries border Beligum?-WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved November 1, 2018 from https://www.worldatlas.com/eu/be/where-is-belgium.html. 27 Belgian facts: A brief history about Belgium-Expatica Belgium. Retrieved November 1, 2018 from https://www.expatica.com/be/about/Belgium-facts-A-brief-history_106907.html. 28 Ibid. 29 Belgium demographics profile 2018-IndexMundi. Retrieved November 1, 2018 from https://www.indexmundi.com/belgium/demographics_profile.html. 30 This “new” immigrant sector is non-European and primarily Muslim. The “old” immigrant groups were exclusively European in origin and mostly Catholic (Timmerman, Vanderwaeren, & Crul, 2003). 31 Belgian schools: Bringing equal opportunities to immigrant children. European Commission. Retrieved October 25, 2018 from ec.europa.eu/research/infocentre/ article_en.cfm?artid=43376. 32 Ibid. 33 Some authors use the term “Flemish” when relating to Flanders, its language, or people (e.g., see Clycq et al., 2014; Timmerman et al., 2003; Zanoni & Mampaey, 2013). 34 In addition, all names of individuals are pseudonyms. 35 Reference to Zirkel (2008) builds on, with revisions,Valencia (2015, p. 203).

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36 The author, a male, selected only male participants to control for sex effects. Also, to establish rapport he selected only males. 37 All names are pseudonyms.

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https://www.irishexaminer.com/ireland/traveller-education-just-13-of-travellerchildren-complete-second-level-education-425272.html. Foucault, M. (1979). Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison. Harmondsworth, London: Penquin. Foucault, M. (1980). Michael Foucault: Power/knowledge. Hemel Hempstead, England: Harvester Wheatsheaf. Gama, E. P., & de Jesús, (1998, April). Teachers’ causal explanations for achievement: Common sense or social representations? Paper presented at the meeting of the American Educational Research Association, San Diego, CA. Gándara, P., & Hopkins, M. (Eds.). (2010). Forbidden language: English learners and restrictive language policies. New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Garner, S. (2004). Racism in the Irish experience. London, England: Pluto Press. Gathercole,V. C. M., Thomas, E. M., Jones, L., Gausch, N.V.,Young, N., & Huges, K. (2010). Cognitive effects of bilingualism: Digging deeper for the contributions of language dominance, linguistic knowledge, socio-economic status, and cognitive abilities. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 13, 617–664. Retrieved March 13, 2014 from http://eric/ed/gov/?id=EJ895097. Guo,Y. (2006). “Why didn’t they show up?:” Rethinking ESL parent involvement in K-12 education. TESL Canada Journal, 24, 80–95. Hallgarten, J. (2000). Parents exist, OK!? Issues and visions for parent-school relationship. London, England: Institute for Public Policy Research. Hanafin, J., & Lynch, A. (2002). Peripheral voices: Parental involvement, social class, and educational disadvantage. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 23, 35–49. Henderson, R. (2005). The social and discursive construction of iterant farmworkers’ children as literacy learners. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Faculty of Education, James Cook University of North Queensland, Townsville, Australia. Horn, H. (2015, October 16). Is Eastern Europe any more xenophobic than Western Europe? The Atlantic. Retrieved September 1, 2018 from https://www.theatlantic.com/ international/archive/2015/10/xenophobia-eastern-europe-refugees/410800/. Jeynes, W. H. (2011). Parental involvement and academic success. New York, NY: Routledge. Katz, D., & Stotland, E. (1959). A preliminary statement to a theory of attitude structure and change. In S. Koch (Ed.), Psychology: A study of science: Formulations of the person and the social context (Vol. 3, pp. 423–475). New York, NY: McGraw-Hill. Kenny, M., & Binchy, A. (2009). Irish Travellers, identity and the education system. In P. A. Danaher, M. Kenny, & J. R. Leder (Eds.), Traveller, nomadic and migrant education (pp. 119–131). New York, NY: Routledge. Khair, T. (2016). The new xenophobia. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Lebow, R. N. (1976). White Britain and Black Ireland: The influence of stereotypes on colonial policy. Philadelphia, PA: Institute for Study of Human Issues. Leder, J. R. (2009). Conclusion: Wither changing schools? In P. A. Danaher, M. Kenny, & J. R. Leder (Eds.), Traveller, nomadic and migrant education (pp. 214–220). New York, NY: Routledge. Lee, M. Y. H. (2015, July 8). Donald Trump’s false comments connecting Mexican immigrants and crime. Retrieved October 9, 2018 from https://www.washingtonpost.com/ news/fact-checker/wp/2015/07/08/donald-trumps-false-comments-connectingmexican-immigrants-and-crime/. Liégeois, J.-P. (2008). Roma in Europe. Strasborg, France: Council of Europe Publishing. Lindsay, G., Pather, S., & Strand, S. (2006). Special educational needs and ethnicity: Issues of overand under-representation (Research Report RR757). University of Warwick, Coventry,

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England: Centre for Educational Development, Appraisal and Research, Institute of Education. Retrieved August 1, 2018 from https://www.naldic.org.uk/Resources/ NALDIC/Research%20and%20Information/Documents/RR757.pdf. Lodhi, A. (2017, June 19).The rise of xenophobia in Europe. Retrieved October 1, 2018 from https://blog.politicsmeanspolitics.com/the-rise-of-xenophobia-in-europe-b7e42a86a1a3 Lyons, Z. (2010). Articulating a deficit perspective: A survey of the attitudes of post-primary English language support teachers and coordinators. Irish Educational Studies, 29, 289–303. Macalister, R. A. (1937). The secret languages of Ireland. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. MacGréil, M. (1996). Prejudice in Ireland revisited. Maynooth, Co., Ireland: The Survey & Research Unit, Department of Social Studies, St. Patrick College. Mampaey, J., & Zanoni, P. (2014). Managing legitimacy in the educational quasi-market: A study of ethnically diverse inclusive schools in Flanders. British Educational Research Journal, 40, 353–372. Mampaey, J., & Zanoni, P. (2015). Reproducing monocultural education: Ethnic majority staffs’ discursive constructions of monocultural school practices. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 37, 928–946. Retrieved October 15, 2018 from http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/ 01425692.2014.1001059. Marian, V., & Shook, A. (2012). The cognitive benefits of being bilingual. Cerebrum, 13, 1–7. Retrieved March 13, 2014, from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/ PMC3583091/. McDonagh, R. (2002). The web of self-identity: Racism, sexism and disablism. In R. Lentin & R. McVeigh (Eds.), Racism and anti-racism in Ireland (pp. 129–135). Belfast, UK: Beyond the Pale Publications. McVeigh, R., & Joyce, C. (2011). Taskforce on Traveller education—Report of the Taskforce to the Department of Education. Bangor, UK. Retrieved November 18, 2018 from https://www.eani.org.uk/sites/default/files/2018-10/Taskforce%20on%20 Traveller%20Education%20-%20Report%20of%20the%20taskforce%20to%20the%20 Department%20of%20Education.pdf. Moon, E. (2018, August 22). Research tells us that immigration does not lead to higher crime states. Pacific Standard. Retrieved October 14, 2018 from https://psmag.com/ social-justice/research-tells-us-that-immigration-does-not-lead-to-higher-crime-rates O’Connell, J. (2002). Travellers in Ireland: An examination of discrimination and racism. In R. Lentin & R. McVeigh (Eds.), Racism and anti-racism in Ireland (pp. 49–62). Belfast, UK: Beyond the Pale Publications. O’Gorman, E., & Drudy, S. (2010). Assessing the professional development needs of teachers working in the area of special education/inclusion in mainstream schools in Ireland. Journal of Research in Special Educational Needs, 10, 157–167. DOI 10.1111/j.1471-3802.2010.01161.x. O’Halloran, M. (2018, July 3). Bill to include Traveller culture in school curriculum. Irish Times. Retrieved October 16, 2018 from https://www.irishtimes.com/news/politics/ oireachtas/bill-to-include-traveller-culture-in-school-curriculum-before-seanad-1.3552981. Pearl, A. (1997). Cultural and accumulated environmental deficit models. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 132–159). Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Pianigiani, G., Horowitz, J., & Minder, R. (2018, June 11). Italy’s new populist government turns away ship with 600 migrants aboard. The New York Times. Retrieved October 11, 2018 from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/11/world/europe/italy-migrant-boat-aquarius.html.

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Sampson, J. (1891). Tinkers and their talk. Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society, 2, 204–221. Stevens, P. A. J. (2008). Exploring pupils’ perceptions of teacher racism in their context: A case study of Turkish and Belgian vocational educational pupils in a Belgian school. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 29, 175–187. Swanson, M. S. (1991). At-risk students in elementary schools: Effective schools for disadvantaged learners. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas. Tandl, K. (2013). Irish culture: The secret languages of Irish Travellers. Retrieved October 18, 2018 from https://sites.google.com/site/sukirishculture/student-papers/ traveller-languages. Taras, R. (2012). Xenophobia and Islamophobia in Europe. Edinburgh, UK: Edinburgh University Press. Timmerman, C., Vanderwaeren, E., & Crul, M. (2003). The second generation in Belgium. The International Migration Review, 37, 1065–1090. Tisdall, S. (2018, June 22). Rise of xenophobia is fanning immigration flames in EU and US. The Guardian. Retrieved October 1, 2018 from https://www.theguardian.com/ world/2018/jun/22/as-immigration-crisis-explodes-xenophobes-gain-ground-in-eu. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997). The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (2008). Chicano students and the courts: The Mexican American legal struggle for educational equality. Critical America Series. New York, NY: New York University Press. Valencia, R. R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2011a). The plight of Chicano students: An overview of schooling conditions and outcomes. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 3–41). New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2011b). Segregation, desegregation, and integration of Chicano students. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), Chicano school failure and success: Past, present, and future (3rd ed., pp. 42–75). New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Black, M. S. (2002). “Mexican Americans don’t value education!”—On the basis of the myth, mythmaking, and debunking. Journal of Latinos and Education, 1, 81–103. Valencia, R. R., & Solórzano, D. G. (1997). Contemporary deficit thinking. In R. R.Valencia (Ed.), The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice (pp. 160–210). The Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Vasquez Heilig, J., Brown, K. D., & Brown, A. L. (2012). The illusion of inclusion: Race theory textual analysis of race and standards. Harvard Educational Review, 82, 403–424. White, C. M. (2014). Deficit thinking redux: Cultural deficit discourses and an urban community and school in Fiji. Social Identities, 20, 155–170. DOI 10.1080/13504630.2014.978750. Zanoni, P., & Mampaey, J. (2013). Achieving ethnic minority students’ inclusion: A Flemish schools’ discursive practices countering the quasi-market to exclude. British Educational Research Journal, 39, 1–21. Zick, A., Küpper, B., & Hövermann, A. (2011). Intolerance, prejudice and discrimination: A European report. Berlin, Germany: Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftong. Zirkel, S. (2008). The influence of multicultural educational practices on student outcomes and intergroup relations. Teachers College Record, 110, 1147–1181.

PART IV

Asia

9 ASIA (INDIA; CHINA)

Of the world’s seven continents, Asia ranks number one in both population size and landmass. In 2016, the number of people was estimated at 4.4 billion, comprising approximately 60% of the world’s populace; 7 of 10 of the world’s most populated nations are in Asia. The continent is shared by 48 countries,1 and they vary in wealth, having some of the poorest countries on earth (e.g., Bangladesh; Cambodia) and some of the richest (e.g., Japan; Singapore); nearly half (45%) of people in Asia live below the poverty line (Mitchell & Desai, 2009). Asia, located nearly entirely north of the equator, encompasses around 30% of the world’s landmass; by country, Russia is the largest in land size, China second, and India third.2 Concerning educational attainment, 70% of illiterate people in the world reside in Asia, yet considerable variability exists. For example, Japan has nearly a universal literacy rate, while the rate in South Asia is 42% (Maclean, 2001; cited in Mitchell & Desai, 2009). The extremely high illiteracy rate in Asia is closely related to a reality that has captured the interests of advocacy groups, such as the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO)—the age-old problem of “out-of-school children.” According to data reported by UNESCO, in 2017 about 263 million youngsters worldwide were deemed to be out-of-school children (never enrolled in school; enrolled but later dropped out).3 In Asia, primarily in developing countries in South Asia, about 74% of 6- to 11-year olds are considered out-of-school children (Mitchell & Desai). Rates for several Asian countries, for example, are: Pakistan (26%), Yemen (22%), and India (19%).4 There are a number of explanations for why so many children are not in school. For example, there is no school in the children’s community. Another

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reason is that some young people do enroll in school, but because of poor facilities or no teachers, they eventually leave school.5 Still yet, a major factor in explaining the large number of out-of-school children is child labor (Silan, 2001). An estimate is that there are over 250 million children (below 18 years of age) worldwide who are economically active. Asia accounts for 61% (153 million) of these young workers. Of these, around 20% to 30% are employed full time. These Asian working children serve as, for example, farmworkers, workers in mines and quarries, construction site workers, household servants, and sadly so, sex service providers (Silan). In light of the high parentage of out-of-school children in Asia, this invisibility has likely led some scholars to neglect the investigation of marginalized children and youth in the various Asian educational systems. Hence, we see a dearth of studies concerned with deficit thinking in Asian education. I have, however, been able to find deficit thinking literature germane to India and China—enough to sustain the writing of this chapter.

India This brief section on deficit thinking in India is structured around the following: (a) conquest and colonization of India; (b) ethnic demographic profile; (c) TAG; (d) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization Prior to the British colonization of India in 1858, Britain’s possessions and interests there were administered by the British East Indian Company, a chartered commercial undertaking. At the time, the British Raj (“rule” in Hindi)—or officially known as the British Indian Empire—became the term to describe the location, rule, and era. Over the decades, India (referred to as the “Jewel in the Crown”) served as a vast source of wealth for the British. After years of struggle, India was granted independence in 1947.6 To gain insight to the British attitudes toward India and its people during part of the British Raj, Castle (1993) undertook a content analysis of British history school textbooks used from 1890 to 1914. The author reports the image that emerged was both ethnocentric, extolling the alleged cultural superiority of Britain, and racist, claiming that differences between the British and Indians rested on environmental and inherited biological forces. In a textbook written by York-Powell and Tout (1900; cited in Castle), Indians were compared to the Anglo-Saxon norm. The authors characterized the non-Aryan people as “flat nosed savages,” the Aryans as having a “primitive civilization,” and the Hindus as having a “mixture” of the two (p. 995). In general, Castle notes that the textbooks generated many binaries. She comments: “The ‘good’ Indian

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was light-skinned, athletic, brave in battle, fair and tolerant, in fact, remarkably English” (p. 28). Implied is the negative side of the binary: “Bad” Indians were, for example, dark-skinned, cowards, and unfair. In sum, Castle concludes that British textbooks used over the 25-year period she studied portrayed a picture of deficit thinking vis-à-vis India, describing the country as being in a state of anarchy and disorder, which provided a justification for Britain to impose imperialistic intervention and control. Subsequent to India’s independence in 1947, the country inherited the British educational system as seen in the hegemonic establishment of colonial education (Kumar, 2005).

Ethnic Demographic Profile India, with the second most populous country in Asia and the world, had an estimated population of 1.35 billion people in 2018, accounting for 17.4% of the earth’s populace.7 India, one of the oldest civilizations in the world, is indeed a diverse nation in ethnicity, language, and religion. The immense number of ethnic groups are divided into three major clusters: Indo-Aryan (72%), Dravidians (25%), and Mongoloid and other minority groups (3%).8 There are four chief language families: Indo-European, Dravidian, Austroasiatic, and Sino-Tibetian. Regarding religion, Hinduism is the strong majority (79.8%), followed by Muslim (14.2%), Christianity (2.3%), Sikh (1.7%), Buddhism (0.7%), Jains (0.4%), and others (0.7%).9 Overall, India is a poor country. Based on a report by the United Nations Population Fund (2006; cited in Kalyanpur, 2008), 29% of the Indian population resides in poverty, and 80% of Indians live on less than $2 daily. A contributing factor for such poverty is the age-old caste system which serves to stratify Indian society along economic and occupational lines.10 There are five caste groupings: (a) Brahmin; (b) Kshatriya; (c) Vaisa; (d) Sudra; (e) Dalit (Beteille, 1992, and Ramaswamy, 2005; cited in Kalyanpur). The first three castes are considered privileged (socially, in power, and wealth), and the bottom two are not. The Dalits, which the government refers to as the untouchables or scheduled caste, live in extreme poverty, are banned from intermarriage, not allowed to draw public water, and are segregated by residence (Kalyanpur). Due to increased education and industrialization, the lower castes’ economic mobility has improved, but barriers are not falling in any demonstrative ways (Esposito, 2012).

TAG Suffice it to say, TAG is ubiquitous in India. In light of the legacy of colonial education, India has a dual school system—one a private sector catering to the privilege that offers English-only instruction and access to high-status knowledge, and the other that is maintained by the state and provides instruction in

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the vernacular and access to low-status knowledge. This persistent binary of educational inequality has resulted in a vast chasm in academic achievement as seen, for example, in lower school enrollments, higher dropout rates, and poorer achievement among the marginalized, while the Indians of privileged backgrounds have consistently higher achievement outcomes (Ratham, 2015). Particularly short-changed in educational opportunity and outcome is the Muslim minority (Akhtar & Narula, 2010) and females (Kalyanpur, 2008). It is not unexpected that TAG exists when caste groups are compared. Desai and Kulkarni (2008, Table 9.2 in authors’ study) report a trend analysis (1983 to 1999-2000) for educational attainment for males aged 24- to 29-years old. For comparisons of upper-caste Hindu and Dalits (lowest caste), the 1999-2000 completion rates of secondary school, for example, was 28.3% for Hindus and 16.6% for Dalits. Regarding college graduation, 14.4% and 4.8% of Hindus and Dalits, respectively, completed tertiary education. These educational inequalities correspond to subsequent occupational outcomes. For example, percentages for professional job attainment were 15.4% and 6.0% for Hindus and Dalits, respectively. For the occupation of farm labor, the percentages were 17.3% and 42.4% for Hindus and Dalits, respectively (Desai & Kulkarni, Table 9.1 in authors’ study).

Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice For deficit thinking in India, I have identified the following themes, involving: (a) hereditarianism; (b) gender inequality; (c) teacher education.

Hereditarianism In a case study of two schools, Singh and Kumar (2010) discuss how teachers’ beliefs in “sanskara,” which refers to heredity-based educability, is related to children’s learning ability and academic achievement. Two primary schools, Badka Bandh and Majhauli, located in remote villages, served as the research sites.11 The authors note that 100% of the Badka Bandh students are from marginalized communities, and some of the pupils belong to the Dalit caste. In quotes that follow, the children are referred to as being part of the Musahar community. In this context, Musahar refers to the lower segment of the Dalit caste in India, who experience great suffering. The term Musahar originates from the referent, “rat eater,” as the Musahar have been said to eat rats in times of exigent hunger.12 Given the extreme marginalization of the children at Badka Bandh, my focus for the discussion here is on this school. The children’s parents are largely illiterate and primarily work in lower caste-based occupations (e.g., agriculture) (Singh & Kumar). The students attending Badka Bandh are, as a whole, poor achievers (Singh & Kumar, 2010). Most of the teachers hold a strong belief that sanskara, educability

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which is believed to be inherited, is the reason for the pupils’ school failure. The following quotes by teachers illustrate this unfortunate form of deficit thinking: • •

•

•

How can these children study, they do not have [good] “sanskara.” (p. 34) Children of Musahar community are not able to succeed in education because their parents are illiterate. Even when these parents want to give education to their children, they are not able to do so because of poverty. The “sansakra” of these parents is such that instead of sending their children to school, they send them to work. (p. 34) A child’s “sanskara” begins to be formed in the womb of his/her mother. After birth it is formed by parents’ “sanskara,” lifestyle and environment of his/her community and society. (p. 36) “Sanskara” is a hereditary disposition. (p. 36)

In sum, Singh and Kumar (2010) comment that sanskara is intergenerational in nature, passed on to children from parents. The authors also note that the belief in sanskara has an implied binary connotation. One teacher remarked: “Children receive ‘sanskara’ from their parents. If the parents’ ‘sanskara’ is good, the children’s ‘sanskara’ will also be good. For example, if parents are educated, their children will also get education” (p. 36). Teacher’s beliefs in sanskara, coupled with lack of governmental intervention, appear to lead to the indifference, insensitivity, and neglect toward the Badka Bandh students, as exemplified by the following observations of Singh and Kumar: (a) failure to fix broken water hand pumps, windows, and chairs at the school; (b) non-completion of the construction of a toilet; (c) ending of the mid-day meal; (d) having and accepting a teacher-student ratio of 1:40; (e) ending the school day early. Optimistically speaking, not all teachers in the local village believe in sanskara. Singh and Kumar (2010) note that a middle school teacher offered this insight: Parents’ “sanskara” is not responsible for the [school] failure of children from the Musahar community. It is found that children of parents without having the so-called “sanskara” have become great scholars and thinkers. Poverty and related compulsions have kept these children away from education. Today everyone from the Musahar community also is aware that their children need to get education. (p. 37)

Gender Inequality This deficit thinking theme on gender inequality is indirectly associated with education (to be shortly discussed). Our initial focus is related to the binary reality that in India, and Asia, as a whole, there is a strong familial bias to produce sons, and the devaluation of giving birth to daughters, who are considered deficits (Patel, 2003, 2010). These patrilineage, patriarchal attitudes are grounded in

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perceptions that having males provide greater opportunities for their economic mobility, while having females leads to lifelong discrimination for them—for example in education, the work force, and property rights (Patel, 2003). In light of the use of sex-selection techniques, India has one of the lowest women per 100 men ratios (93.5) in the world. In Europe and North America, for example, the ratio is 105; the world ratio is 98.5 (Patel, 2010, p. 77, Table 9.1). In order to halt the abuse of modern scientific methods designed for selective elimination of female foetuses, the Indian government passed the Pre-natal Diagnostic Techniques Act in 1994. Yet, some physicians in urban centers, catering to parents wanting to have only a son, have subverted the law (Patel, 2003). Subsequent to the practice of female infanticide (intentional killing of a newborn female child), sex-selection abortions and other techniques came into fashion in India. These new reproductive methods include: (a) contraceptions; (b) assisted reproduction; (c) genetic manipulation; (d) sex selection (i.e., aborting a foetus after an ultrasound test is done). At their clinics, some doctors assertively advertise: “Invest Rs 500 now, save Rs 50,000 later.”13 Translation: “If you get rid of your daughter now, you will not have to spend money on dowry” (Patel, 2010, p. 79). In India, there are ethicists who aver that the abortion of a female foetus might be conceived as “a lesser evil than birthing a girl child and making her live a life of discrimination” (Patel, 2010, p. 80). One significant collateral aspect of such bigotry is gender inequality in educational attainment. A number of studies report that females in India, compared to their male counterparts, have higher rates of being out-of-school (i.e., never being enrolled), not completing secondary school, and illiteracy (e.g., Akhtar & Narula, 2010; Darrah, 2017; Kalyanpur, 2008). Empirical examples of these gender-based disparities are: (a) 26% of girls have finished secondary school education, compared to 50% of boys; (b) 65% of girls are literate, in comparison to 82% of boys (Darrah). Patel (2003) summarizes matters by maintaining that the search for the “perfect baby” in India raises profound socio-legal and ethical queries. She notes that women’s advocacy groups are developing strong campaigns focusing on raising awareness among government and private physicians that sex selection foeticide is discriminatory. The challenge to change a societal mindset seeped in deficit thinking is arduous, but Patel (2003) argues: “Investing in daughters’ education, health and dignified life to make her self-dependent are far more humane and realistic ways than brutalising pregnant mother and her would be daughter” (p. 8).

Teacher Education The study by Ratham (2015) involves a case study of Nalina (pseudonym), an inservice English as a second language (ESL) teacher. The investigation emerges from a mentor-mentee relationship with Nalina that Ratham had initiated while the author was teaching a university in-service course (in Karnataka, India) for ESL teachers. The relationship continued while Nalina taught her own ESL classes in school. Ratham frames her study so it could have implications for

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improving teacher education. The author’s main focus is on an analysis of Nalina’s initial deficit thinking attitude toward EL students, to Nalina’s eventual transformation to a social justice teacher. Ratham (2015) contextualizes her investigation by providing background on India’s dual educational system in which the privileged have considerably more learning opportunities to succeed, while the marginalized (lower-SES groups) have few chances. Such persistent and pervasive inequality, she asserts, is deeply rooted in the British colonial system, which continued after independence and led to much deficit thinking. The resultant educational ethos was “a focus on remediation of supposed defects in the child and no interest in building on what the child already knows from his/her home culture” (p. 260). Her study is designed to challenge the dominant perspective of deficit thinking by extolling the value of counterdiscourses (e.g., CRT; funds of knowledge; multicultural, multilingual education). Ratham’s (2015) case study took place over a 2-year period, and utilized multiple methods of data collection, including, for example, student and teacher interviews, field notes, classroom observations, and teacher questionnaires. A chief aspect of data analysis was the exploration of Nalina’s transformation, particularly in her thinking about teaching and practice. The author reports that Nalina’s initial attitudes were deficit thinking in nature, especially regarding negative perceptions of the students’ mother tongue, Kannada,14 referring to it as being “bad” in grammar. Subsequent to observing Ratham’s lectures, and carefully listening to her pupils’ suggestions to how she could help them learn more proficiently, Nalina expressed attitudes centered on the mindset that the “language students brought to class [was] a resource and not a hindrance to learning” (p. 261). Ratham comments: “The ability to link her learning to teaching made Nalina see the importance of posing questions and getting students to think instead of telling them what they should think by giving her meaning” (p. 269). Ratham’s (2015) conclusion centers on how teacher education could be improved by the creation of a “third space” (Zeichner, 2010; cited in Ratham). The third space involves the triangulation of (a) the university expert, (b) the mentor teacher in school, and (c) the student teacher—all who collaborate closely in order for the student “to experience the dialectic movement between theory and practice” (p. 275). Student teachers who are able to work in the third space change from conventional teaching (transmission of knowledge; classroom management) to critical pedagogy that is immersed in cultural practices that are meaningful, valued, and diverse. The ultimate goal is for student teachers to become agents of social justice and educational equality.

China China has the distinction of being the oldest of the principle world civilizations. The vast amount of China’s history consists of a series of 13 dynasties, ranging from the Xia Dynasty (2205 to 1575 BC) to the Qing Dynasty (1644 to 1912). The Han

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Dynasty (206 BC to 220 AD), which lasted more than 400 years, had the greatest influence in China’s history. To a considerable extent, today’s Chinese culture was developed during the Han Dynasty.15 At the end of the Qing Dynasty, the Republican Era (1912 to 1949) was started. During WWII, China fought on the side of the Allies. In 1949, Mao Zedong instituted the People’s Republic of China (official name of China), and this seminal government greatly allied with the Soviet Union and used Soviet Communism as the model for its governance.16

Ethnic Demographic Profile In 2018, China had an estimated population of 1.42 billion people, making it the most populous country on Earth. India, the second most populous nation in the world, is projected to become the number one country in number of people in the next two decades.17 In regard to ethnicity, based on 2000 census the Han group in China was by far the largest, numbering 1.2 billion people (91.6% of the total population of China) (Tsung, 2009). Interestingly, about a decade later, a 2018 estimate also notes the Han people to comprise 91.6% of the total population.18 In all, there are 56 officially recognized ethnic groups in China—the majority nationality, the Han, and 55 other groups (about 8%) (Tsung, pp. 207–208, APPENDIX 1). These remaining ethnic groups, sometimes referred to as minority nationalities,19 primarily reside in five autonomous border regions in the hostile heartlands (Kwong & Xiao, 1989; Tsung, p. 10, Table 2.1). The Han people primarily inhabit the coastal regions and the fertile lowlands of the Yellow and Yangtze Rivers (Kwong & Xiao). In China, over time the distinction between the Han and the 55 minority nationalities has become binarized, where “the people either belonged to the superior center or the inferior periphery of the kingdom….[and] these designated minorities carry with them the stigma of backwardness and poverty” (Tsung, p. 2). Linguistic diversity also characterizes China. The dominant language is Mandarin Chinese—sometimes referred to as Standard Chinese, Standard Mandarin, and Modern Standard Mandarin. Mandarin Chinese is also called Putonghua, and is spoken by nearly 1 billion people of China’s total population.20 It has been estimated that China has 129 minority languages (Sun, Hu, & Huang, 2007; cited in Tsung, 2009). Speakers of these minority languages are grouped into five familial classifications (e.g., Altaic; Korean; Sino-Tibetian; see Tsung, p. 12, Table 2.2). We shall see shortly that some minority speakers (e.g., Uyghur, an Altaic language) face deficit thinking attitudes by Mandarin Chinese speakers.

TAG China has a reputation around the world for having an excellent educational system. In a recent study of students from 65 countries, Shanghai pupils performed number one in reading, mathematics, and science. By comparison, the United

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States scored at 36th place.21 Yet, in China a cavernous chasm exists in academic achievement—a gap in urban vs. rural differences. TAG along the urban/rural binary is longstanding. For example, based on 1982 data, minority nationalities (overwhelmingly rural people) had lower educational attainment—compared to national averages—for primary school, secondary ( junior and senior) school, and the university level (Kwong & Xiao, 1989, p. 240, Table V). In light of contemporary data, the urban vs. rural divide in educational achievement continues. Urban area students, on average, complete 10.3 years of education, compared to only 6 years for rural students. For students who go to high school, 67% of urban students do so, in comparison to 29.9% of rural students (Choi, 2012). There are at least two factors that contribute to the urban/rural achievement gap. First, in rural areas the educational system has inadequate funds and resources. One significant problem is the dearth of qualified teachers. In rural locales, just 20% of the teachers possess 4-year college degrees (Choi, 2012). Another problem faced by rural students is the financial status of their families. In China, 9 years of schooling (6 years of primary and 3 years of middle school) are required in all governmentrun schools. Three years of secondary education for students, however, become the financial responsibility of the parents. Given the limited income of rural parents and the poverty they endure, many parents find it prohibitive to cover the costs of secondary education for their children. Resultant of this monetary barrier, many rural students drop out in middle school and pursue a trade or some type of work.22

Manifestation of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice I was only able to identify one deficit thinking theme, “higher education,” pertinent to education in China. In light of what we have discussed so far, it is not surprising that this subject matter involves the urban/rural divide.

Higher Education Tsung and Clarke (2010) sought to explore the personal and professional identities of Uyghur individuals, members of a minority national group. The participants in this study are 13 academics employed at Xinjiang University, located in far northwest XUAR, China’s largest geographical region. The area contains 13 major ethnic nationalities, including 7.7 million Han Chinese and 8.8 million Uyghurs. Xinjiang University, located in the city of Urumqi, the capital of XUAR, enrolls 21,317 students, 50% who are minorities. Of the 13 Uyghur participants in this study, three were full professors, four associate professors, and six lecturers; six of the seven Chinese-educated participants stated they were more competent in Chinese than Uyghur. For the six Uyghur-educated participants, all claimed they had a better command of Uyghur than Chinese (Tsung & Clarke).

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The participants recalled that their early schooling experiences were not particularly positive because of hardships they endured. The primary problem was their lack of Chinese language skills, which led to severe linguistic difficulties. One participant noted that because he failed the Chinese language test, he was forced to repeat grades 1 and 2. He still recalls how some of his Chinese classmates laughed at him, even calling him “stupid” because he could write only half as many Chinese characters as they could. They also made fun of his mistakes when he tried to speak Chinese. He said he often missed lessons because of this. (Tsung & Clarke, 2010, p. 62) Another issue the participants raised was related to their scholarship. Tsung and Clarke (2010) report that some of the academics maintained they were disadvantaged due to a biased system for determining acceptable publications, which had a serious consequence for promotion in the tenure track. A number of the participants said few scholarly journals accepted manuscripts written in Uyghur. One participant, who specializes in Uyghur literature, wrote his manuscripts in Uyghur. “But when I applied for a promotion, these papers were not counted as publications. This shows that the Uyghur language is not important in academic research. This is not fair” (p. 65). Tsung and Clarke also discuss how the hegemony of the Chinese language had an impact on Uyghur university students. The authors discuss an older survey that reports greater than 80% of Uyghur university graduates were not able to acquire jobs because of poor skills in Chinese. Tsung and Clarke (2010) conclude that their study underscores the principle role of language as a major symbol of how ethnic identities are socially constructed via deficit thinking. Such attitudes serve as markers of perceived differences between sets of people, creating a distinct binary of “insider”/”outsider.” The authors assert that minority group learners, such as the Uyghur, should enjoy the same rights the powerful majority Chinese possesses in contemporary China.

Notes 1 Countries by continent—countries of Asia. Retrieved November 24, 2018 from https:// www.nationsonline.org/oneworld/asia.htm. 2 Ibid. 3 Out of school children–World Top 20 project. Retrieved December 1, 2018 from https://worldtop20.org/out-of-school-children. 4 Out of school children: Center for Education Innovations. Retrieved December 1, 2018 from https://educationinnovations.org/topics/out-school-children. 5 Ibid., note 3. 6 British Raj–New World Encyclopedia. Retrieved December 3, 2018 from www. newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/British_Raj. 7 India population (2018)–Worldometers. Retrieved December 3, 2018 from www. worldometers.info/world-population/india-population/. 8 Biggest ethnic groups in India–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved December 4, 2018 from https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/biggest-ethnic-groups-in-india.html.

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9 Demographics of India–IPFS. Retrieved December 4, 2018 from https://ipfs.io/ipfs/ QKDDP1mXWo6uco/wiki/Demographics_of_india.html. 10 8b. The caste system: HUM 101 Introduction to Humanities. Retrieved December 7, 2018 from https://courses.lumenlearning.com/worldcivilization1/chapter/8b-thecaste-system/. 11 The authors do not state whether the names of the two schools are real or pseudonyms. 12 The “rat eaters” of Bihar: India’s poorest people-World: The StarOnline. Retrieved December 21, 2018 from https://www.thestar.com/my/news/world/2017/12/07/ the-rat-eaters-of-bihar. 13 R stands for rupee, the basic monetary unit used in India and some other countries (e.g., Nepal; Pakistan). Retrieved December 24, 2018 from Rupee: Definition of rupee by Merriam-Webster. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/rupee. In December 2018, the exchange rate for U.S. dollar (USD) for the Indian rupee (INR) was 1 USD = 70.1 INR. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from Dollar (USD) to Indian rupee (INR) currency converter. https://www.currency-calc.com/USD_INR. 14 The Kannada language is a component of the Dravidian language. Kannada is the official language of the state of Karnataka, the location of Ratham’s (2015) study. For more on the Kannada language, see: Kannada language: Britannica.com. Retrieved December 1, 2018 from https://www.britannica.com/topic/Kannada-language. 15 China history and timeline overview–Ducksters. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from https://www.ducksters.com/geography/country/china_history_timeline.php. 16 Ibid. 17 China population 2018 (demographics, maps, graphs). Retrieved December 24, 2018 from worldpopulationreview.com/countries/china-population/. 18 China demographics profile 2018-IndexMundi. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from https://www.indexmundi.com/china/demographics_profile.html. 19 Tsung (2009) notes that the term “minority” is used in China to identify the various ethnic and sociolinguistic groups. 20 What languages are spoken in China?–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/what-languages-are-spoken-in-china.html. 21 China’s education gap–A surprising factor of rural poverty. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from https://projectpartner.org/poverty/chinas-education-gap-a-surprisingfactor-in-rural-poverty. 22 Ibid.

References Akhtar, N., & Narula, M. (2010). The role of Indian Madrasahs in providing access to mainstream education for Muslim minority students: A West Bengal experience. International Migration and Integration, 11, 91–107. DOI 10.1007/s12134-009-0120-1. Beteille, A. (1992). The backward classes in contemporary India. Delhi, India: Oxford University Press. Castle, K. (1993). The imperial Indian: India in British history textbooks for schools, 18901914. In J. A. Mangan (Ed.), The imperial curriculum: Racial images and education in the British colonial experience (pp. 23–39). London, England: Routledge. Choi, K. (2012, October 24). Educational inequality in China: World Outlook. Retrieved December 13, 2018 from https://sites/dartmouth.edu/worloutlook/2012/10/24/ education-inequality-in-china/. Darrah, P. (2017). Keeping girls in school: Contributing to gender equality in India through education. Retrieved December 20, 2018 from https://www.gviusa.com/blog/ keeping-girls-in-school-contributing-to-gender-equality-in-India-through-education.

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Desai, S., & Kulkarni,V. (2008). Changing educational inequalities in India in the context of affirmative action. Demography, 45, 245–270. Retrieved December 3, 2018 from https:// link.springer.com/article/10.1353/dem.0.0001. Esposito, A. (2012, October 10). Caste: Still relevant today? Georgetown University Berkley Center for Religion, Peace & World Affairs. JYAN Blog. Retrieved January 3, 2019 from https://berkleycenter.georgetown.edu/posts/caste-still-relevant-today. Kalyanpur, M. (2008). The paradox of majority underrepresentation in special education in India. The Journal of Special Education, 42, 55–64. Kumar, K. (2005). Political agenda of education: A study of colonialist and nationalist ideas (2nd ed.). New Delhi, India: Sage. Kwong, J., & Xiao, H. (1989). Educational equality among China’s minorities. Comparative Education, 25, 229–243. Maclean, R. (2001). Educational change in Asia: An overview. Journal of Educational Change, 2, 189–192. Mitchell, D., & Desai, I. (2009). Diverse socio-cultural contexts for inclusive education in Asia. In D. Mitchell (Ed.), Contextualizing inclusive education: Evaluating old and new international perspectives (pp. 166–201). London, England: Routledge. Patel, V. (2003, June 30). A cultural deficit. India Together. Retrieved December 15, 2018 from http://indiatogether.org/sexratio-women. Patel,V. (2010). Sex determination and sex pre-selection tests in India. Asian Bioethics Review, 2, 76–81. Retrieved December 15, 2018 from https://muse.jhu.edu/article/416378/pdf Ramaswamy, G. (2005). India stinking: Manual scavengers in Andhra Pradesh and their work. Pondicherry, India: Navayana. Ratham, T. (2015). Pedagogies of social justice: An Indian case. In L. Orland-Barak & C. J. Craig (Eds.), International teacher education: Promising pedagogies (part B) (Advances in research on teaching,Volume 22B) (pp. 255–282). Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing Limited. Silan, E. F. (2001). Child labor in Asia: A review. Focus, 25, September. Asia-Pacific Human Rights Information Center. Retrieved December 1, 2018 from https://www.hurights. or.jp/archives/focus/section2/2001/09/child-labor-in-asia-a-review.html. Singh, P. D., & Kumar, S. (2010). Social hierarchy and notion of educability: Experiences of teachers and children from marginalized and non-marginalized communities in Gaya, Bihar, India. Mukherjee, Nagar, New Delhi, India: Deshkal Publications. Retrieved December 24, 2018 from http://www.deshkalindia.com/img/reports/4.%20Report%20on%20 Social%20heirarchy%20and%20notion%20of%20educability.pdf. Sun, Hu., Hu, Z., & Huang, X. (Eds.). (2007). Zhongguo de Yuyan (The languages of China). Beijing, China: Shangwu Yinshuguan (The Commercial Press). Tsung, L. (2009). Minority languages, education and communities in China. Houndmills, Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Tsung, L., & Clarke, M. (2010). Dilemmas of identity, language and culture in higher education in China. Asia Pacific Journal of Education, 30, 57–69. United Nations Population Fund. (2006). Country profiles for population and reproductive health: Policy developments and indicators, 2005. Annapolis, MD: Prographics. York-Powell, F., & Tout, T. (1900). History of England. London, England: Longsman. Zeichner, K. (2010). Rethinking the connections between campus courses and field experiences in college- and university-based teacher education. Journal of Teacher Education, 61, 89–99. DOI 10.1177/0022487109347671.

PART V

Africa

10 AFRICA (SOUTH AFRICA; NIGERIA)

The period from 1880 to 1900, referred to as the “Scramble for Africa,” is characterized as an era of rapid colonization by a number of European countries—including, Britain, France, Portugal, Spain, and Ottoman (Turks). Important causes of the Scramble for Africa were: (a) end of the British slave trade; (b) frequent exploration voyages; (c) capitalism, prompted by searches for raw materials (e.g., rubber; timber); (d) the development of steam engines and iron-hulled boats; (e) military innovations (e.g., breech-loading rifles). In 1884-1885, the Berlin conference laid down the rules for dividing up the African continent (Boddy-Evans, 2018). On May 21, 2012, Motsoko Pheko, human rights activist, delivered the African Liberation Day anniversary speech at Soweto, a Black township in South Africa. In his address, Pheko (2012) comments that “the history of European colonisation has been not only land dispossession but [also] of destroying African knowledge” (p. 2). He notes, for example, prior to the conquest and colonization of Africa, the “Atlantic” Ocean was referred to, as late as 1626, the Ethiopian Sea, and the “Indian” Ocean was called the Azanian Sea, which is a referent to ancient Africa.1 Pheko underscores that “Africa has suffered the worst genocide and holocaust at the hands of the architects of slavery and colonialism. What is called ‘European Renaissance’ was the worst darkness for Africa’s people” (p. 3). He continues, stating that every year, for 400 years, the Gold Coast (Ghana today) lost 5,000 to 6,000 people to the slave trade. Furthermore, in a short period of 15 years, the population of the Congo plummeted from 20 million to 9 million people. Pheko concludes his address by commenting: “It was against this background of genocide in the name of ‘European civilisation’ that [enslaved] Africans in the Diaspora… realised that the solution to African people both at home and abroad was Pan-Africanism” (p. 4).

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In 2016, Africa, the world’s second largest landmass and the second most populous continent, had an estimated population of 1.2 billion people. 2 Africa is comprised of 58 countries. The top 10 in population, which constitute 65.2% of the total continental populous, are in descending order: (a) Nigeria; (b) Ethiopia; (c) Egypt; (d) Democratic Republic of the Congo (DR Congo); (e) Tanzania; (f ) South Africa; (g) Kenya; (h) Uganda; (i) Algeria; ( j) Sudan. 3 Regarding monetary status, Africa has the dubious distinction of being the poorest continent in the world based on gross domestic product (GDP) per capita.4 The average GDP per capita of Africa in 2016 was $1,089; of the 10 poorest countries in the world with a GDP per capita of less than $1,500, the majority are in Africa. For continental comparisons, North America in 2016 had the highest GDP per capita at $37,477; the world average in 2016 was $10,300.5 Educational attainment is another area that does not bode well for Africa. In our discussion of educational attainment in Asia (chapter 9), I introduced the demographic reality of out-of-school children. Of the world’s 20 nations having the largest percentages of out-of-school children, 16 (80%) are located in Africa. Somalia is ranked number 1 (71.5%).6 In many of the world’s developed countries, for a student to graduate from high school and college is hailed as major educational achievements. In third world countries, however, the completion of just primary school is considered a challenge and monumental accomplishment.7 As such, the primary school completion rate is a revealing indicator of the overall quality of a nations’ educational system. Once again, we see that Africa has a long way to go in providing a solid educational foundation for its young schoolchildren. Based on recent World Bank data, for the top 25 countries with the lowest primary school completion rates, there are 22 in Africa (88%). Of the top 10 countries, all are located in Africa, with South Sudan ranked number 1, having only 37.4% of its youngsters completing primary school. South Sudan, as is the case in other African nations, has a shortage of qualified teachers, a very limited amount of funds for education, and a severe lack of physical space for schooling.8 As is the case of Asia, the corpus of literature on deficit thinking in Africa is small in quantity. I have, however, been successful in identifying ample scholarship to sustain an informed discussion applicable to two countries—South Africa (ranked number 6 of 58 in population of African countries) and Nigeria (ranked number 1 of 58).9

South Africa What transpired in South Africa during the era of apartheid (1948 to 1994) is widely known. In light of what occurred throughout this racist and segregated regime, and its aftermath, it is not unforeseen that the country of South

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Africa has emerged as Exhibit A in Africa as illustrating deficit thinking in education. Underscoring this point about the dominance of deficit thinking in South African scholarship, in general, and particularly in education, is the essay by Moletsane (2012). The subtitle of her article, “Beyond Deficit Paradigms,” is telling. Moletsane focuses on rurality and rural communities, asserting that the preeminence of the deficit thinking paradigm has created seemingly unsurmountable barriers for genuine social change in rural education because many scholars have viewed Blacks as deficient, having problems that are self-induced, and in need of outside assistance to fix their problems. Moletsane (2012)—drawing from Adams, King, and Hook (2010)—makes the case that the deficit thinking paradigm regarding scholarship about rural and peri-rural locales in South Africa is rooted in the works of academic scholars from the “north” (especially North America and Europe) who rely on Western ontologies and epistemologies.10 These researchers—sans insider perspectives— concentrate on space, rather than the people, and ignore the heterogeneity of rural folks. This discourse has led to an urbanity vs. rurality (us vs. them) binary in which the former group of people are perceived as superior and the latter group as inferior. In the typical narrative, the school failure of Back students in South Africa is due to their putative defects and their dysfunctional families. Moletsane comments that these scholars from the north fail to examine how schools and teachers are implicated in thwarting the school success of Black students. She argues that scholarship on South Africa needs to undergo a repositioning from a deficit paradigm to a strength paradigm by “harnessing…the social, physical, educational and cultural resources and assets residing in both the home (and community) and the school in addressing the social and educational needs of learners in rural contexts” (p. 4). In the remaining discussion of deficit thinking in South Africa, I cover: (a) conquest and colonization of South Africa; (b) apartheid; (c) ethnic demographic profile; (d) TAG; (e) manifestations of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization of South Africa In 1652, the Dutch began the conquest and colonization of South Africa. Table Bay (present day Cape Town) served as an ideal halfway station for the Dutch East India Company on its voyage to the East (e.g., Indonesia) to cultivate, via slave labor, spices and crops that were unavailable in Europe.11 The original colonizers of South Africa were Afrikaners who were a diverse group of Western Europeans (e.g., Dutch; German; French; British).12 Their language was Afrikaans (also referred to as Cape Dutch). Today, English and Afrikaans are the only two Indo-European languages officially recognized in South Africa13 (more on official languages later). Subsequently, the Cape Colony became a fully

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developed slave society, in which slavery was an integral part of the economic, social, and legal institutions of South Africa.14 In regard to deficit thinking perceptions of Blacks in early South Africa, Lilly (1993) undertook a content analysis of British school geography textbooks and found that racism spewed into curricular content. Two South African groups—dubbed Hottentot and Boeschman (Bushman) by the Afrikaners— were prime targets of this racial antipathy. Cornwell (1850) pilloried them in his new textbook: “The Hottentot perhaps rank the lowest among men…The Bushman are the most degraded…[in] appearance and filthy habits, [and they] excite invincible disgust” (p. 246; quoted in Lilly, p. 46). Even 85 years later, in the 1930s, schoolchildren continued to read in their textbooks that the Hottentot and Bushmen were described as “ape-like,” “[having] little intelligence,” “incapable of civilization,” and “lowly savage” (Bunting & Collen, 1935, p. 134; quoted in Lilly, p. 46). In a concluding comment, Lilly notes that although the racist textbooks about South Africa are relics of the past, many children and youth who read them are still alive today. “Prejudices still held [today] could have been gained or reinforced from some of the sources quoted” (p. 53).

Apartheid Apartheid, which means “apartness” in Afrikaans, was institutionalized in 1948 after the Afrikaner National Party won a general election.15 Apartheid, a hegemonic governmental system, was structured to impose the segregation of Blacks and maintenance of White supremacy. This oppressive arrangement legislated and enforced several separate racial groupings, to wit: powerful and privileged Whites, second-class Blacks, Coloured (mixed origin, e.g., White and Black), and Indians. Racist mandates included, for example, forced relocations of Blacks to designated “townships” (reserves), which resulted in severe poverty and inequalities for the residents (Ndimande, 2016). Blacks living in townships were always required to carry “pass books” (e.g., containing a photo, fingerprints, and employment information), particularly for access to White areas.16 Another example of racism directed toward Blacks, Coloured, and Indians involved antimiscegenation laws that forbade marriage and sexual relationships across racial categories.17 In regard to schooling during the apartheid era, the Afrikaner government took over the education of Blacks in South Africa. An example was the Bantu Education Act of 1958, which denied Blacks the rights to enroll in higher education. As well, via the new law, the Minister of Bantu Education had complete control, for example, over the hiring of teachers and the development of class syllabi in Black schools. Education for Blacks was designed as a social reproduction mechanism of state ideology that had as its goal the creation of a societal

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binary fueled by deficit thinking of alleged White superiority and Black inferiority (Ndimande, 2016). Molteno (1984) captures this reality: Bantu, Coloured, and Indian Education were designed to control the direction of thought, to delimit the boundaries of knowledge, to restrict lines of communication, and to curtail contact across language barriers. They aimed to dwarf the minds of black children by conditioning them to servitude. Like the segregated and inferior schooling before it, the new system was intended to prepare black children for subordinate positions that awaited them in such a way that they were appropriately equipped with limited skills as well as ready to resign themselves to their exploitation. (p. 94) The segregated, inferior, and underfunded schooling endured by Black students during the apartheid period certainly took its toll on these children and youth, even shortly after the oppressive era. In 1998, about 307,000 pupils departed from school, not going any further than grade 4; around 440,000 Black students failed to go beyond grade 7 (Hartshorne, 1992; cited in Ndimande). The fight for independence by South Africans from the racist grip of apartheid was monumental. Kallaway (1993) notes that in the 1950s and 1960s the rise of African nationalism and Marxism, and the struggle for decolonization came to have significant influence on political activism. In part, this was expressed via writings. Such revisionist scholarship written by Black intellectual activists included, for example, Facing Mount Kenya: The Traditional Life of the Gikuyu (Kenyatta, 1953); I Speak of Freedom: A Statement of African Ideology (Nkrumah, 1961); Let My people Go (Luthuli, 1962); South Africa: The Peasant’s Revolt (Mbeki, 1964); No Easy Walk to Freedom (Mandela, 1965). After years of vigorous struggle, including, for example, massive demonstrations, acts of civil disobedience, bloodshed, and imprisonment of Black leaders, apartheid came to an end in 1994.18

Ethnic Demographic Profile As of 2018, the population of South Africa was 54,841,552 (estimate). Concerning ethnicity, Blacks comprise the strong majority at 80.2% of the total populace. In descending order, the remaining groups are: White (8.4%), Coloured (8.8%), and Indian/Asian (2.5%).19 On the subject of language, the 1996 constitution of the Republic of South Africa recognized two languages—the previous colonial languages of Afrikaans and English (which were official before 1996), plus nine other Indigenous languages as official. These latter languages fall into two “clusters,” Nguni (i.e., Zulu; Xhosa; SiSwati; IsiNdebele) and Sotho (i.e., Sepdi; Setswana; SeSotho). The other two official languages are Xitsonga and

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Tshivenda. The top five in percentage of home language speakers are: Zulu (23%); Xhosa (18%); Afrikaans (14%); Sepdi (9%); English (9%) (Probyn, 2009, p. 126, Table 1).

TAG The study by Howie and Scherman (2008) is particularly informative in that the authors provide academic achievement data for 1989 (during apartheid) and after the downfall of apartheid (1999 data). Although the two data sets did not use equivalent tests and age of students, the comparative statistics, nonetheless, reveal that TAG along racial lines is enduring in South Africa. For the 1989 data, the authors cite the study by Hofmeyer and Buckland (1992). The latter authors report achievement data (subject matter not specified) for White, Indian, Coloured, and Black students for Grade 12 pass rates, which were 96%, 93.6%, 72.7%, and 40.7%, respectively (Howie & Scherman, p. 119, Table 1). Hofmeyer and Buckland also report 1989 racial comparisons for teacher-pupil ratios, percentage of underqualified teachers, and per capita expenditures. On all three measures, Whites are the advantaged group and Blacks fare the worse. For example, in connection with White-Black comparisons for teacher-student ratios, the proportion was 17:1 for White classrooms and 38:1 for Black classrooms. With respect to underqualified teachers, the report shows 0% for White classrooms and 52% for Black classrooms (Howie & Scherman, p. 119, Table 1). On the subject of post-apartheid achievement data, Howie and Scherman (2008) report Grade 8 science achievement scores from the 1999 Third International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS). The South African sample included 194 schools, 8,147 students, and 190 science teachers. To analyze correlates of achievement, the authors developed a measure coined the “shortages of general resources,” which was used to gather data on “general aspects” of schools (e.g., heating; supplies budget) and “science specific resources” (e.g., laboratory equipment; computer software). An overall combined index of “shortages” was developed, and determined for each school. The resultant school ratings were: “most advantaged,” “advantaged,” “disadvantaged,” and “most disadvantaged” (Howie & Scherman, p. 120, Table 2). Given that the school segregation of lowSES students of color is pervasively associated with lower academic achievement (see, e.g., Valencia, 2015, chapter 4), and the finding that school segregation of Black students is still prominent in South Africa (e.g., Ndimande, 2016), one can conclude that the most advantaged/advantaged schools are associated with high-enrollment White schools, and disadvantaged/most disadvantaged schools are relative proxies for high-enrollment Black schools. The results of this study tend to support these connections.

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The TIMSS results reported by Howie and Scherman (2008) are quite comprehensive and detailed. As such, I only provide a synopsis of key findings: 1. The most advantaged schools had the highest mean science score, while the most disadvantaged schools had the lowest score (p. 121, Table 5). 2. Pupils taught by White teachers had the highest mean science score, and the pupils instructed by Black teachers had the lowest score. This pattern held across most advantaged, advantaged, and disadvantaged schools (p. 122, Table 6). 3. Students in inner-city (i.e., urban, predominantly White) schools scored the highest in mean science performance, while pupils in rural village/town schools (predominately Black students) performed the lowest. This pattern was constant across all four levels of advantagement (p. 122, Table 7). Howie and Scherman conclude: “Vast inequalities still exist within the education system [of South Africa] and these data confirm this” (p. 127). The authors continue by stating that an informed and cogent strategy is needed to address the “old inequalities” in South African education. TAG data are also available for higher education in South Africa. Notshulwana (2011) comments that after many years since the end of apartheid, Black students have increased in numerical growth in tertiary education. Notwithstanding this progress, Black students continue to be underrepresented compared to their relative proportion in the college age group. In 2007, higher education in South Africa enrolled 761,090 students. Of these, 62.6% were Black,20 and 23.7% were White; the Coloured and Indian enrollments were 6.5% and 6.9%, respectively (Notshulwana, p. 144, Table 1). Yet, when enrollment data are analyzed by the various groups’ relative presence for 20-to 24-year-old students in South Africa, sharp racial divisions are seen. In 2007, proportional college enrollments by race were 54% for Whites and 12% for Blacks; the Coloured and Indian proportions were 12% and 43%, respectively (Notshulwana, p. 145, Figure 1). These data show that White students were overrepresented and Blacks were underrepresented. Later, in the South African deficit thinking theme of “Higher Education,” I return to Notshulwana who asserts that deficit thinking is implicated in explaining the underrepresentation of Black students in tertiary education. Racial disparities in South African higher education academics (academics, tutors, and support staff ) are also present (Notshulwana, 2011). In 2007, Blacks, Coloured, and Indians comprised 91% of 48 million people living in South Africa. Notwithstanding this sizable population of people of color, the three groups made up only 33.7% of higher education academics. For Blacks alone, they constituted 80% of the South African population, but just 21.3% of the academic workforce.

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Manifestations of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice I have been able to identify a number of deficit thinking themes pertaining to South Africa. They are, to wit: (a) School Choice; (b) Language; (c) Higher Education; (d) Parents.

School choice Ndimande (2016) underscores that during the apartheid era, segregated schools in impoverished townships were grossly underfunded, underresourced, and underserved—resulting in limited equal educational opportunities for Black students. To a large degree, these manufactured inequalities in education and low standard of living (considerable poverty) linger in contemporary townships. In light of the reality that township schools remain entirely segregated and poorly funded ( Jansen & Amsterdam, 2006; Valley & Dalamba, 1999; cited in Ndimande), the South African government has initiated “pro-poor” funding policies to improve the schooling of Black students. One such measure is school choice. The intention of advancing a school choice option was to stimulate desegregation. A major obstacle, however, was that no White parents selected to transfer their children to Black township schools, believing them to be unappealing in resources (Valley & Dalamba). This racialized reaction is similar to what transpired during the heyday of school segregation in the United States in the late 1960s and 1970s when White parents preferred not to send their children to high-enrollment Black schools. As such, Black parents and their children carried a highly disproportionate burden of desegregation efforts (Schofield & Hausmann, 2004). A consequence of this school choice resistance by White South African parents has helped to maintain a highly segregated educational system. Pampallis (2003; cited in Ndimande) notes that about 28% of all schools in South Africa were desegregated; most Black schools, however, did not undergo desegregation. The policy of school choice, which is growing steadily across the world (e.g., Australia; Canada; Chile; England; United States)21 is, as Ndimande (2016) points out, a neoliberal policy designed to have consumer choice drive competition among schools. A significant problem with school choice is that access to the higher-achieving, better resourced school schools is dependent on wealth (Miron & Welner, 2012; cited in Ndimande).22 This issue of the relation between school choice and wealth is what Ndimande empirically probes in his study of South Africa. To gain the opinions of school choice among Black parents residing in townships, he interviewed 39 parents residing in Gauteng, the largest province in South Africa (N = 12.3 million people). The participants were mainly unemployed (49%) or worked in low-paying occupations (domestic and factory workers). Ndimande reports that most of the participants endorsed school

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choice so their children could receive a better education, but they were not able to send their children to the better schools because of financial constraints. Examples of the parents’ comments reported by Ndimande (2016) are: •

• •

•

Mama Nandi: I would like to send my children to formerly only-White schools, but I don’t have the money…[These] schools are very expensive. (p. 40)23 Mama Sindiswa: There is no transportation for children who live far from schools, especially in bad weather. (p. 40) Mama Thoko: I would like to send them there [White schools], but I am also wondering why can’t they [the government] bring better education here in the township, too. (p. 41) Baba (father) Dube: Yes, we wish we could send our children to formerly White-only schools too, but only if we can get jobs and the money. (p. 40)

The above comments by the parents are quite revealing. The words of Mama Thoko are particularly insightful, which place the onus of reform on the government. She asks: Why can’t those educational officials and politicians invest considerable resources to improve schooling in the townships? And, indirectly she is asking: Why should the Blacks in the townships carry the exclusive burden of school desegregation reform? Bada Dube’s comments, which are systemic in nature, are also well taken, as he gets to the core of the problem faced by township parents. Black parents are not able to avail themselves of school choice because many mothers and fathers residing in impoverished townships direly need good jobs and livable wages. This is an anti-deficit thinking position, as advocates of the deficit thinking paradigm eschew systemic analyses in explaining the economic problems endured by poor families and the school failure of students of color. These deficit thinkers, in explaining these issues, opt to take the parsimonious, endogenous route: Fix the child and the parents (Valencia, 2015). Nidante (2016) pointedly captures this matter: School choice as a policy does not help their children out of the inequalities and poverty that were inflicted upon them by the apartheid system. School choice is a problematic neoliberal policy that does not address the larger and deeper problems of poverty and social inequalities among the dispossessed groups. (p. 41)

Language Mckay and Chick (2001) examined the post-apartheid language-in-education policies initiated in 1996. These new programs had goals, for example (a) to use the students’ first language (L1) as the vehicle of teaching and learning;

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(b) to promote the learning of at least two, ideally three, languages. In short, the new language policies rested on the objective of advancing additive bilingualism and multiculturalism as the normative orientation. The authors’ investigation was conducted in six newly integrated primary and secondary schools in the Durban metropolitan area, located in the province of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. About 80% of the residents of the province speak Zulu as their L1, and approximately 16% have English as their L1. The methodology utilized by the authors included classroom observations, interviews with teachers and principals, inspection of textbooks and classroom materials, and reading of school documents. In contrast to the ambitious and laudatory goal of the new language policies in advancing positive classroom instruction, Mckay and Chick (2001) found that the schools were engaging in a subtractive language approach (i.e., not using L1 as a medium of instruction). The authors identified three deficit thinking-driven language methods. 1. English-only discourse. Mckay and Chick (2001) note that this practice is based on three assumptions. First, English language teaching and learning should begin as soon as possible. Second, the maintenance of LI is not essential. Third, submersion is the ideal way to learn English.24 The authors report that the teachers and administrators explicitly rejected using Zulu for instruction in the classroom and Black students who chose to seek Zulu were deemed language deficient or rebellious. 2. Decline-of-standards discourse. Teachers and administrators extolled the values of academic excellence and the inculcation of good moral values and behavior in students. These educators believed that high academic competence and prosocial behaviors were best to be accomplished through an English-centric curriculum. Using Zulu and teaching African literature were renounced as they would, it was argued, compromise the standards of excellence. 3. One-at-a-time discourse. An example of this instructional method is the triadic dialogue, which the authors observed was used with high frequency. This activity should be quite familiar to the reader. First, the teacher initiates instruction (here, in English). Second, the learner responds to the teacher (here, in English to the best of his/her ability). Third, the teacher evaluates the students’ response. McKay and Chick (2001) comment that the triadic dialogue is self-serving for the teacher and ignores the learning needs of the student. This deficit thinking discourse sustains “the myth that learning is essentially an individual rather than a social matter. This allows them to hold individuals responsible for their own success or failure rather than teachers, schools, education authorities and society as a whole” (p. 404).

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Mckay and Chick (2001) conclude by commenting that very little progress has occurred in Durban schools concerning the language-in-education policies initiated in post-apartheid education. Rather than schools promoting an additive bilingual/multicultural school curriculum, a near exclusive use of English instruction and the teaching of a literary Western canon have become the norm, a standard based on deficit thinking. The authors continue: Such discourses also provide them [Black Zulu-speaking students] with an identity in which their language and culture is seen as a deficit rather than as a resource that contributes to a truly multilingual/multicultural society envisioned by new language-in-education policies. (p. 408) A closely related study to the just reviewed Mckay and Chick (2001) investigation is by Probyn (2009), who examines the conflicts and tensions involving codeswitching between Xhosa (an Indigenous language) and English in classrooms in South African townships/rural schools. The authors contextualize matters by underscoring that English language policies in South Africa have a long history of being used as instruments of political duress and oppression during the colonial period (1854–1910) and the apartheid era (1948–1994). On the subject of classroom instruction, codeswitching (when a bilingual speaker alternates between his/her two languages) can be a worthy linguistic tool in the learning of English for pupils when teachers and students share a common L1, as codeswitching is a natural response when communication occurs between teacher and student. In South African schools, however, codeswitching has not been endorsed in teacher education programs. As such, when teacher candidates eventually become teachers they regard codeswitching as illicit—an indication of linguistic and pedagogic ineptitude, rather than serving as a legitimate and valuable communicative approach in instruction. Probyn (2009) asserts that the failure to utilize codeswitching in Black township/rural schools, combined with poor school funding and limited resources, contributes to the maintenance and widening of TAG. Placed in the context of the necessity for larger systemic transformations, she concludes: Thus there is a need to address the conflicts and tensions in classroom codeswitching and language policy through appropriate teacher training and school language policies that take into account contextual realities; and so develop bilingual classroom policies and practices that enable township and rural learners to gain access to both the knowledge and the linguistic resources necessary to break out of the poverty trap. Classroom codeswitching is not merely a matter of linguistic interest, but is also closely tied to issues of social justice for the majority of learners in South Africa. (p. 134)

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Higher Education Smit’s (2012) focus is on higher education in post-apartheid South Africa, a period in which the new government made a commitment to increasing racial diversity in tertiary education. Although the Black student participation rate has increased, the racial chasm in enrollment continues. Corroborating some over- and underrepresentation data I noted earlier (Notshulwana, 2011), Smit notes that White students (age 20- to 24-old age group), compared to their Black counterparts, are five times more likely to be enrolled in higher education. The author states that a significant hurdle for Black access to tertiary education is the inferior education they receive in primary and secondary school. Such poor pre-college preparation has led to the labelling of Black students who aspire to matriculate to college as being deemed “disadvantaged,” an umbrella term that connotes an array of putative shortcomings. With greater specificity, Smit (2012) asserts that the disadvantaged marker has led to a dominant form of deficit thinking in higher education. Citing, in part, the deficit thinking debunking of Biggs (1999) and Valencia (1997), Smit zeroes in on the terminology of deficit thinking that frames academic difficulties of Black students regarding what they lack for success in higher education. This discourse results in binarization: “Students are referred to… [as] not traditional, not prepared for higher education, not in a position of privilege or advantage” (p. 370). The positive leg of this binary implies that successful students are traditional, prepared for tertiary education, and privileged or advantaged. Smit notes that deficit thinking deflects attention to any critical interrogation of a number of basic difficulties why such negative narratives are problematic vis-à-vis Black students in South African higher education. For example, such deficit thinking strengthens stereotypes (e.g., lower expectations of students) in the minds of educators, policymakers, and in some cases, students themselves. Second, deficit thinking can trigger alienation in Black students. When they begin their collegiate experiences, they are likely to be reminded—in some subtle and not so subtle ways—that because of their poor preparation for higher education they need to “catch-up.” This message of alleged deficiency can reinforce their own perceived “Otherness.” Smit concludes by making a case that South African institutions of higher education need to consider their own readiness and resources to accommodate Black students and their assets. “The need for higher education to find a way to respond to the very real issues faced by diverse incoming students, without succumbing to deficit thinking, can hardly be overstated” (p. 378). Notshulwana (2011) corroborates Smit (2012), commenting that South African institutions of higher education have an “obsession with black students’ perceived deficits” (p. 142). A major point of his article is a call for a paradigm shift from putative deficits of Black students to their strengths. He proposes an agenda designed to increase the access, retention, and success of Black students

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in higher education. First, there needs to be a comprehensive outreach program that assertively identifies, recruits, and nurtures promising Black students attending secondary schools who aspire to go to college. Second, Black students, particularly females, should be encouraged to pursue graduate school, and be fully supported once admitted. Third, there needs to be a training and mentorship program aimed to develop a new generation of Black faculty, especially in the fields of technology, engineering, and science.

Parents Felix, Dornbrack, and Scheckle (2008) sought to investigate how parents managed the homework of their children who attended several diverse (by SES and race) primary schools in South Africa. One school was a former “model C,” labeled as such during apartheid when this type of school was exclusively White, had better qualified teachers, smaller classes, and ample supplies of books and equipment. In the present study, the authors refer to this school as school “A.” Another school, called “B,” is a Black township school. The third school, referred to as “C,” is a Coloured (Catholic) school. In my discussion, I limit comparisons to school A and B, as what transpires in them have closer bearing on deficit thinking discourse. It would be informative to provide further information on school A and B. Felix et al. (2008) describe school A as having: “Well-maintained buildings, big school grounds in quiet middle-class suburb. Fully equipped computer labs and offices. Learner-teacher ratio, 26:1” (p. 101). The authors do not mention the racial makeup of the school, but one can assume it is predominantly White, a carryover from the apartheid period in which White schools were highly advantaged in resources (such as the current school A). School B, the Black township school, is described, in sharp contrast, as follows: “Run-down area, with informal housing. No formal grass playing area. One computer and one photocopier in school. Learner-teacher ratio, 51:1” (p. 101). Concerning their methodology, Felix et al. conducted semi structured interviews with two Grade 4 English teachers per school and each principal. Also, focus groups were conducted with randomly selected Grade 4 students from the four classrooms. In their findings, Felix et al. (2008) report that teachers stated school A parents are viewed as active agents in the management of their children’s homework. For example, if the parent is not sure what the assignment is, the teacher will be contacted. Also, the principals mentioned that there was a network of parents who discussed homework issues. In light of the school A parents’ higher levels of attained schooling, teachers and principals expected more parental involvement in homework management. Also, it was noted that school A parents had a sense of entitlement, giving them the right to inquire, complain, and make suggestions about homework assignments. In regard to school B parents, common

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responses by teachers and principals were that the parents “can do absolutely nothing;” “can’t help;” “won’t understand” (p. 106). The authors note that these constructions of a deficit thinking discourse translate into a perception that the Black parents have “a lack of mental capacity” (p. 106). Furthermore, one teacher, who was referring to students not turning in their homework, said: “Black students do not do homework as it is not part of their culture of learning” (p. 107). The results of this study by Felix et al. (2008) raise some serious policy matters for the education of Black students attending South African township schools. In light of the importance of requiring homework for students’ academic development (e.g., Marzano & Pickering, 2007; Singh, Mbokodi, & Msila, 2004; cited in Felix et al.), Black students in the present investigation are getting shortchanged. As it was found, giving homework in school B was not a normalized practice. One school B teacher said she did not give homework “because there are too many kids in this class” (p. 109). This is not a legitimate excuse. Another school B teacher said parents do not have to regularly sign homework exercise books, but “only if there is problem must they sign” (p. 109). The authors note that these comments inform us how racialized and class-based teacher discourses thereby perpetuate inequality. Felix et al. conclude: “Teachers need to become aware of the discursive power of their everyday talk which works to reconstitute and reinscribe advantage and disadvantage” (p. 111).

Nigeria Nigeria, located in West Africa, shares borders with Chad, Niger, Cameroon, and Benin. The largest country in the continent, Nigeria has been called the “Giant of Africa,” due to its sizable population and distinct economic developments.25 Some of these accomplishments include growth in agricultural exports, increase in transportation infrastructure projects, and pronounced activity in excavation of solid minerals (Tukur, 2018). Furthermore, Nigeria is said to be quite fascinating in light of its diversity—over 500 ethnic groups comprise the country and over 500 languages are spoken.26 Notwithstanding having the moniker, Giant of Africa, Nigeria is beset with a major issue—the persistent, pervasive discrimination and dehumanization faced by females (Abdullahi, Adekeye, & Shehu, 2011; Omoregie & Ihensekhien, 2009). According to a 2012 report on gender concerns, data show that Nigeria ranks near the bottom on the Gender Equality Index—118 out of 134 countries (Aja-Okorie, 2013). This gender inequality has spilled over to education. “Nigerian girls drop out of school earlier than their male counterparts. Evidence further shows that more than two-thirds of 15-to 19-year-old girls in Northern Nigeria are unable to read a sentence….At every educational level women earn less than their male counterparts” (Aja-Okorie, p. 274).

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The remainder of this section on Nigeria is organized around: (a) conquest and colonization of Nigeria; (b) ethnic demographic profile; (c) TAG; (d) manifestation of deficit thinking in educational thought and practice.

Conquest and Colonization of Nigeria The colonial era in Nigeria commenced in the 15th century when the Portuguese paved the way for the slave trade in which Indigenous people were enslaved and later sold in other areas for weapons and spices. By the 18th century, the British supplanted the Portuguese in the business of slavery (Alme, 2016). Yet, in 1807 the British outlawed slavery and initiated forms of commerce deemed “legitimate.”27 Some of these new economic ventures included agriculture, and the exportation of crops, such as peanuts, cacao, and palm oil (Alme). Over time, the British gained control over Nigeria, but by indirect means and divide and conquer strategies in regard to local Indigenous groups. Furthermore, via missionaries the Indigenous people, mostly Muslim, were converted to Christianity. Following WWII, the British began to have difficulties maintaining their control and supremacy of Nigeria. Taking roots were the Pan African Movement and the Back struggle for liberation from European racism and domination. By 1960, such political activism succeeded and Nigeria gained its independence (Alme).

Ethnic Demographic Profile Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country, numbered 190.6 million people in 2018 (estimated).28 On the subject of ethnicity, although there are over 500 different groups only eight comprise the vast majority (88%) of the total population. In descending order, these ethnic groups with their respective shares of the Nigerian population are: (a) Hausa (25.1%); (b) Yoruba (21.0%); (c) Igbo (18.0%); (d) Ijaw (10.0%); (e) Kanuri (4.0%); (f ) Fulani (3.9%); (g) Ibibio (3.5%); (h) Tiv (2.5%).29

TAG The study by Omoregie & Ihensekhien (2009) has rich, comprehensive data on gender inequality in education in Nigeria. The report is particularly informative in that data are partially provided for 10 consecutive years and for the educational pipeline—from primary, secondary, to tertiary school levels. The latter level also contains data on male-female conferment percentages of master’s and Ph.D. degrees. A limitation of these data reported by Omoregie and Ihensekhien, and later reporting by Abdullahi et al. (2011), is that the authors do not report data disaggregated by race. Nonetheless, given that gender inequality is pervasive in Nigeria, one can assume that Black female primary, secondary, and tertiary level underrepresentation is reflected in the following data.

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For primary and secondary school enrollments, Omoregie and Ihensekhien (2009) present national data for a 10-year trend analysis (1996 to 2005). Concerning the primary school sector, each of the 10 years shows a consistent pattern: Male enrollment is higher that the female enrollment. For the 10-year total, the percentage enrollments are 56.3% male, 43.7% female (p. 4, Table 1). In regard to the secondary school level enrollments, the 10-year trend analysis shows the same pattern—greater male than female enrollment for each year. For the total over the decade studied, the enrollment secondary school percentages are 56.2% and 44.3% for males and females, respectively (p. 5, Table 2). In the matter of university enrollment by sex, Omoregie and Ihensekhien report data over three AYs for four randomly selected universities (e.g., University of Nigeria [eastern Nigeria]; University of Abuja [northern Nigeria]). For the last year, AY 2004–2005, in which data are presented for the four schools, males were enrolled at a share of 53.9% (n = 57,344) and females at 46.1% (n = 49,127) (p. 7, Table 5). In regard to postsecondary degrees awarded by sex, the authors provide data for a 5-year trend analysis (2001 to 2005). Concerning master’s degrees conferred for the 5-year total, males earned 72.8% (n = 44,337) and females 27.2% (n = 16,567) (p. 8, Table 6). For the awarding of doctoral degrees for the 5-year total, the proportions were 76.4% (n = 2,587) for males and 23.6% (n = 798) for females (p. 8, Table 7). Another revealing indicator of TAG and gender inequality across males and females is sex proportions in the university professorial ranks. In view of the very low percentage of PH.D’s awarded to females in Nigeria, it is not surprising that their presence as professors is extremely low compared to their male counterparts. Abdullahi et al. (2011) note that a simple headcount conducted in 1990 indicated that of 1,527 professors in Nigerian higher education, only a minuscule 27 (1.8%) were women professors. The authors report that data of a decade later (AY 2001–2002) show a dismal, continuing pattern of severe underrepresentation of female professors.30 Of 36 selected universities in Nigeria, there was a total 2,442 professors, with 93.1% (n = 2,274) of them being male and only 6.9% (n = 168) female (p. 245, Table 1).31 In 11 (30.6%) of the 36 universities, there were zero female professors.

Manifestation of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice In my search for deficit thinking publications pertinent to Nigeria, I have identified six scholarly writings, and they all focus on a single theme, gender inequality. Here, I discuss three related concerns. First, the persistent and pervasive findings of TAG have serious consequences for the quality of life for Nigerian girls and women. Second, I focus on one prominent deficit thinking explanation that has been advanced to understand the basis of gender inequality in Nigeria.

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Third, a number of scholars have proposed ways to reform the lopsided power relationships between males and females regarding education in Nigeria. I share these reform ideas. 1. Quality of life consequences. In general, Okemakinde (2014) underscores the distressing connection between the poor educational preparation of women and their resultant poverty. He points out this relation is far-reaching for women worldwide as they comprise two-thirds of all illiterate adults. Furthermore, the author notes that of the 1.3 billion people on earth who struggle in wretched poverty, approximately 70% are women. Nigerian women are certainly not immune from this association between limited education and negative life consequences. For example, Aja-Okorie (2013), citing the Gender in Nigeria Report (2012), presents data showing the link between mothers’ educational attainment and their likelihood of receiving antenatal care. The following indicates the positive association between educational attainment and probability of receiving antenatal care: no education (24.5%); primary education (59.5%); secondary education (79.5%); higher education (94.5%). Aja-Okorie, citing the same 2012 report, also mentions the positive relation between education attainment for Nigeria women and other quality of life variables along the lines of being employed, their earning capacity, and their contributions to household and national income. Another social realm in which Nigerian women are subject to discrimination, based in part on their limited educational attainment, is politics. Abdullahi et al. (2011) comment that women in Nigeria are seldom nominated for political appointments, few serve as honourable members of the State and National assemblies, and none is a governor of a state. In sum, the effects of gender inequality in Nigeria is, as Fatimayin (2012) describes, “like a chain reaction” (p. 9) having consequences for not only individuals, but also society. She notes that the Nigerian female high dropout rate from school “translates into illiterates and semi-literates forming a large percentage of unskilled manpower [and woman power], victims of child abuse and youth unemployment resulting into prostitution, thuggery, militancy and the uncontested imposition of ruling cabal among others” (p. 9). 2. Explanation for gender inequality. A number of scholars suggest that the most significant factor contributing to the prejudice and discrimination toward Nigerian girls and women has to do with (what we also saw so prominently in India) the familial and societal attitude to produce boys is highly valued over giving birth to girls (Abdullahi et al., 2011; Ezegbe & Akube, 2012; Fatimayin, 2012; Okemakinde, 2014; Omoregie & Ihensekhien, 2009). This patriarchal, patrilineal Nigerian tradition is grounded in the belief that the identities of familial generations are forged by male offsprings. In short, how the family tree is germinated, rooted, nurtured, and maintained is the

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responsibility of male children, and thus they are accorded special attention and privilege in their preparation of adult roles (Okemakinde). Such preferences for male offspring instill, over time, an ingrained binary of girls being subordinate, weak, and inferior, while boys are deemed to be dominant, strong, and superior. The alleged deficits of females is predicated on the conviction that their future roles are to bear children, do household chores (e.g., cooking; cleaning), and to raise their offspring. Males, on the other hand, are expected to gain employment and become family breadwinners (Abdullahi et al.; Omoregie & Ihensekhien). In extreme cases, preference for males is so strong that mothers is known to abort female fetuses, and in periods of food scarcity female infants may be intentionally starved in order to provide nourishment for baby boys (Abdullahi et al.). Suffice it to say, gender inequality is clearly implicated in helping to explain gender disparities in education. The most transparent evidence is indicated in the male-female differences in enrollment patterns in the primary, secondary, and tertiary school levels in the educational pipeline (earlier discussed in the Nigerian section on TAG). Furthermore, specific examples of gender inequality in education are illustrative. In some communities, girls are not even sent to school because it is believed that schooling will interfere with their future marriage, which is considered the principle duty of a female (Omoregie & Ihensekhien, 2009). Another educational consequence of the devaluation of females is seen in curriculum differentiation. Based on deficit thinking stereotypes, sexism has manifested in classrooms. Girls are expected to enroll in economics/management classes, while boys take agriculture science. It has also been observed that girls are socialized to be seen, not heard, which results in them not being elected as class monitors, or serving as class leaders, as are the boys (Fatimayin, 2012). In the matter of gender inequality in Nigerian education, it is no wonder that the empowerment of girls and women in the educational realm is viewed as a priority among a number scholars, a topic we now proceed to. 3. Proposals to reform education for females. Here, I provide a synthesis of suggestions that a number of scholars have presented that are deigned to improve education for Nigerian girls and women. A. Teacher training. In teacher education programs, the issue of gender inequality should be an essential component of the curriculum (Aja-Okorie, 2013). B. Awareness programs. Parents, caregivers, and the general public need to be sensitized by the government about the importance of education for girls and women (Fatimayin, 2012). C. Scholarships. All levels of government (local, state, and federal) should provide free financial assistance through scholarships or bursaries for female students (Omoregie & Ihensekhien, 2009).

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D. Dropout intervention. Programs are needed that are designed to encourage and provide opportunities for girls who have dropped out of school to complete their education (Aja-Okorie, 2013). Part of this intervention should be literacy programs for illiterate girls and women (Okemakinde, 2014). E. School curriculum. There should be assurances that girls and women have full access to computers, vocational classes, and extracurricular activities (e.g., athletics) (Aja-Okorie, 2013). F. Affirmative action quotas. All levels of the educational pipeline, from primary to tertiary school, need to implement a 50:50 male, female quota system in admissions (Omoregie & Ihensekhien, 2009). G. Legislation. Laws should be passed against: (a) early marriage of females; (b) prevention of females becoming street hawkers; (c) discrimination of women (Abdullahi et al., 2011; Omoregie & Ihensekhien, 2009). Omoregie and Ihensekhien (2009) leave us with this thought about the education of Nigerian girls and women: “Society will be richer in high-level manpower [and womanpower] the more women have access to education, because educating a female (a girl child) is educating the nation” (p. 10).

Notes 1 Pheko (2012) notes that Azania means “Blackman’s country or continent” (p. 1). Also, see Taylor (2014) for more discussion on Azania. 2 Africa population 2018 (demographics, maps, graphs). Retrieved January 2, 2019 from worldpopulationreview.com/continents/Africa-population/. 3 African countries by population (2018)–Worldometers. Retrieved January 2, 2019 from www.worldometers.info/population/countries-in-africa-by-population/. 4 The continents of the world per capita GDP–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved January 2, 2019 from https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/the-continents-of-the-world-by-gdpper-capita.html. 5 Ibid. 6 Out of school children: Center for Education Innovations. Retrieved December 1, 2018 from https://educationinnovations.org/topics/out-school-children. 7 Countries with the lowest primary graduate rates–WorldAtlas.com. https://www. worldatlas.com/articles/deprived-of-basic-education-the-smallest-primary-schoolgraduation-rates-in-the-world.html. 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid, note 3. 10 Moletsane (2012) discusses a number of barriers that tend to mute African voices in developing scholarship (e.g., preeminence of English in the academy; underrepresentation of African scholars on editorial boards of scholarly journals). 11 History of slavery and early colonization in South Africa. Retrieved January 10, 2019 from https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/history-slavery-and-early-colonisation-south-africa. 12 Afrikaner. Retrieved January 10, 2019 from https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/ Afrikaner. 13 Afrikaans language/Britinnica.com. Retrieved January 10, 2019 from https://www. britannica.com/topic/Afrikaans-language.

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14 Ibid., note 11. 15 South Africa society: Racism and apartheid. Retrieved January 10, 2019 from https:// www.jyu.fi/viesti/verkkotuotanto/kp/sa/soc_racism.shtml. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 A history of apartheid in South Africa: South African history online. Retrieved January 10, 2019 from https://www.sahistory.org.za/article/history-apartheidsouth-africa. Also, for a discussion of the anti-apartheid struggle, see, for example: Abel (1995); Klotz (1999). 19 South Africa demographic profile, 2018–Indexmundi. Retrieved January 11, 2019 from https://www.indexmundi.com/south_africa/demographics_profile.html. 20 This is a substantial increase from a Black student enrollment of 49% in 1995, a year after apartheid came to an end (Notshulwana, 2011). 21 See Ndimande (2016) for school choice citations germane to the various countries mentioned. 22 See Ndimande (2016) for a brief but informed discussion of the politics of school choice. 23 All names of parents are pseudonyms. 24 For an international comparison in the English-only discourse in the United States, see Gándara and Hopkins (2010) and Valencia (2015, chapter 6). 25 Largest ethnic groups in Nigeria–WorldAtlas.com. Retrieved January 15, 2019 from https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/largest-ethnic-groups-in-nigeria.html. 26 Ibid. 27 The colonial era (1882-1960)–Religious literacy project. Retrieved January 15, 2019 from https://rip.hds.harvard.edu/for-educators/country-profiles/Nigeria/colonial-era1882-1960. 28 Nigeria demographics profile 2018: IndexMundi. Retrieved January 15, 2019 from https://www.indexmundi.com/nigeria/demographics_profile.html. 29 Ibid., note 25. 30 Abdullahi et al. (2011) also report underrepresentation rates of female staff members in the 36 universities (p. 245, Table 1). 31 Total, subtotal, and percentages calculated by present author from data in Abdullahi et al. (2011, p. 245, Table 1).

References Abdullahi, A. A., Adekeye, S. D., & Shehu, R. A. (2011). Towards improving gender relations in Nigeria: Implications for sustainable development. Journal of Sustainable Development in Africa, 13, 239–253. Retrieved December 15, 2018 from https://pdfs.semanticscholar. org/409b/f50f154be3d4cd740832f3b9833a38964951.pdf. Abel, R. (1995). Politics by other means: Law in the struggle against apartheid, 1980–1994. New York, NY: Routledge. Adams, J., King, C., & Hook, D. (2010). Global research report: Africa. Leeds, England:Thomson Reuters. Aja-Okorie, U. (2013). Women education in Nigeria: Problems and implications for family role and stability. European Scientific Journal, 9, 272–282. DOI http://dx.doi. org/10.19044/esj.2013.v9n28p%25p. Alme, K. (2016). Colonial history of Nigeria: Slave trade, resource extraction, and the invention of a national territory. Retrieved January 21, 2019 from http://scalar.usc.edu/works/nigerdelta-black-gold-blues/12-colonial-subjugation-of-people-land-and-nature-slavetrade-resource-extraction-palm-oil-and-the-invention-of-a-national-territory-kaitlyn.

Africa (South Africa; Nigeria) 251

Biggs, J. (1999). Teaching for quality learning at university: What the student does. Buckingham, UK: Society for Research into Higher Education & Open University Press. Boddy-Evans, A. (2018, November). Why was Africa so rapidly colonized?–ThoughtCo. Retrieved January 5, 2019 from https://www.thoughtco.com>Humanities>History & Culture > African History. Bunting, W. L., & Collen, H. L. (1935). A geography of the British empire. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Cornwell, J. (1850). A school geography (7th ed.). London, England: Simplon, Marshall. Ezegbe, B. N., & Akubue, F. N. (2012). An appraisal of the status of Nigerian women: Educational implications and national development. American Journal of Sociological Research, 2, 27–31. DOI 10.5923/j.sociology.20120202.03. Fatimayin, F. (2012). Gender inequality in education: Implications for national development. Unpublished manuscript, Department of English Language Education. School of Education, National Open University of Nigeria, Lagos. Retrieved January 21, 2019 from https://www.academia. edu/3849566/Gender_Inequality_in_Education_Implications_for_National_Development Felix, N., Dornbrack, J., & Scheckle, E. (2008). Parents, homework and socio-economic class: Discourses of deficit and disadvantage in the “new” South Africa. English Teaching: Practice and Critique, 7, 99–112. Retrieved January 21, 2019 from http://education. waikato.ac.nz/research/files/etpc/2008v7n2art6.pdf. Gender in Nigeria Report. (2012). Improving the lives of women and girls in Nigeria: Issues, policies and actions. Abuja, Nigeria: British Council. Hartshorne, K. (1992). Crisis and challenges: Black education 1910-1990. Cape Town, South Africa: Oxford University Press. Hofmeyer, J., & Buckland, P. (1992). Education system change in South Africa. In R. McGregor & A. McGregor (Eds.), McGregor’s education alternatives (pp. 15–59). Kenwyn, England: Juta’s & Co. Howie, S., & Scherman, V. (2008). The achievement gap between science classrooms and historical inequalities. Studies in Educational Evaluation, 34, 118–130. DOI 10.1016/j. stueduc.2008.04.007. Jansen, J. D., & Amsterdam, C. (2006). The status of education finance in South Africa. Perspectives in Education, 24, 7–16. Kallaway, P. (1993). Historical discourses, racist mythology and education in twentiethcentury South Africa. In J. A. Mangan (Ed.), The imperial curriculum: Racial images and education in the British colonial experience (pp. 194–211). London, England: Routledge. Kenyatta, J. (1953). Facing Mount Kenya:The traditional life of the Gikuyu. Nairobi, Kenya: East African Educational Publishers. Klotz, A. J. (1999). Norms in international relations:The struggle against apartheid. Cornell Studies in Political Economy. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Lilly, T. (1993). The black African in Southern Africa: Images in British school geography books. In. J.A. Mangan (Ed.), The imperial curriculum: Racial images and education in the British colonial experience (pp. 40–53). London, England: Routledge. Luthuli, A. J. (1962). Let my people go. New York, NY: New American Library. Mandela, N. (1965). No easy walk to freedom. London, England: William Heinemann. Marzano, R., & Pickering, D. (2007). The case for and against homework. Educational Leadership, 64, 74–79. Mbeki, G. (1964). South Africa:The peasants’ revolt. Baltimore, US: Penguin Books. McKay, S., & Chick, K. (2001). Positioning learners in post-apartheid South African schools: A case study of selected multicultural Durban schools. Linguistics and Education, 12, 393–408.

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Miron, G., & Welner, K. G. (2012). Introduction. In G. Miron, K. G. Welner, P. Hinchey, & W. Mathis (Eds.), Exploring the school choice universe: Evidence and recommendations (pp. 1–16). Charlotte, North Carolina: Information Age. Moletsane, R. (2012). Repositioning educational research on rurality and rural education in South Africa: Beyond deficit paradigms. Perspectives in Education, 30, 1–8. Molteno, F. (1984). The historical foundations of the schooling of black South Africans. In P. Kallaway (Ed.), Apartheid and education: The education of black South Africans (pp. 45–107). Johannesburg, South Africa: Ravan Press. Ndimande, B. S. (2016). School choice and inequalities in post-apartheid South Africa. Global Education Review, 3, 33–49. Nkrumah, K. (1961). I speak of freedom: A statement of African ideology. New York, NY: Praeger. Notshulwana, V. (2011). Expanding opportunity through intentional equity: Transforming higher education in South Africa to benefit all. Africa Insight, 41, 142–159. Okemakinde, T. (2014). Women education: Implications for national development in Nigeria. European Journal of Globalization and Development Research, 9, 553–565. Omoregie, N., & Ihensekhien, O. A. (2009). Persistent gender inequality in Nigerian education. Journal of Education Policy, Fall, 1–7. Retrieved December 15, 2018 from http:// www.researchgate.net/publication/321126911. Pampallis, J. (2003). Education reform and school choice in South Africa. In D. Plank & G. Sykes (Eds.), Choosing choice: School choice in international perspectives (pp. 143–163). New York, NY: Teachers College Press. Pheko, M. (2012, May). Effects of colonialism on Africa’s past and present. Pambazuka News. Retrieved January 5, 2019 from https://www.pambazuka.org/global-south/ effects-colonialism-africas-past-and-present. Probyn, M. (2009). ‘Smuggling the vernacular into the classroom’: Conflicts and tension in classroom codeswitching in township/rural schools in South Africa. International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism, 12, 123–136. Schofield, J.W., & Hausmann, L. R. M. (2004).The conundrum of school desegregation: Positive student outcomes and waning support. University of Pittsburgh Law Review, 66, 83–111. Singh, P., Mbokodi, S., & Msila, V. (2004). Black parental involvement in education. South African Journal of Education, 24, 301–307. Smit, R. (2012).Towards a clearer understanding of student disadvantage in higher education: Problematising deficit thinking. Higher Education Research & Development, 31, 369–380. Tukur, S. (2018, May 26). What Buhari has achieved in three years–Presidency. Premium Times. Retrieved January 21, 2019 from https://www.premiumtimesng.com/new/ headline/269803-what-buhari-has-achieved-in-three-yearspresidency.html. Valencia, R. R. (Ed.). (1997). The evolution of deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Stanford Series on Education and Public Policy. London, England: Falmer Press. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valley, S., & Dalamba,Y. (1999). Racism, “racial integration” and desegregation in South African public secondary schools. Johannesburg, South Africa: South African Human Rights Commission.

FINAL THOUGHTS

In this closure of the present volume, my intent is not to summarize the massive terrain we have covered about deficit thinking in international thought and practice. Rather, I take the opportunity to share a few thoughts about reform that will help bring closure to this tome. These ruminations are, to wit: 1. Need to go beyond binaries. As I discussed in chapter 1, binarization involves the construction of either/or logic. In deficit thinking, such reasoning leads to a polarization or dichotomy, in which the powerful party constructs itself as being normal and the other entity is framed as being deficient, deviant, or pathological—that is, the Other. It is imperative that we end the focus on dichotomies. Rather, we need to pay close attention to the fertile middle of the continuum. It is important to understand that in the realm of human characteristics and group behaviors there are far more similarities than differences. Stated in the context of academic achievement and intellectual ability, the vast proportion of variability lies within racial/ethnic and SES groups, not between them (Valencia & Suzuki, 2001). As such, going beyond binaries in an assiduous fashion will make a strong headway in the debunking of deficit thinking. Singh (2011), who writes the Foreword for Beyond Binaries in Education Research (Midgley, Tyler, Danaher, & Mander, 2011), comments that in taking on this challenge, we need to be aware of the complicit roles “researchers as theorists and teachers as practitioners [play]… in [promoting] sociocultural marginalization” (p. xvii). Singh continues by noting that moving beyond binaries has “as an objective and a method of education research that takes as its aims the rejection of subservience to sociopolitical domination or unquestioning acquiescence to intellectual

254  Final Thoughts

authority, and creating new modes of education research and knowledge production” (p. xix). 2. Need for reformation in teacher education programs. This urgent and essential need is evident based on the earlier analysis I conducted on the frequency of deficit thinking themes that surface in the literature I reviewed for the present volume. Inspection of Table 2.2 of chapter 2 shows that of the total 49 identified deficit thinking themes across the 16 countries, the theme of “Teachers” appears as the most frequent (12 times, 24.5%). The finding that “Teachers” emerges as the most frequent deficit thinking theme can be interpreted as a call by scholars in many countries for the attitudinal transformations of teachers regarding their perceptions of and instructional practices for marginalized students. One logical place to begin this reform is in teacher education programs, because it is here, at ground zero in educational training, that deficit thinking among White preservice teachers first manifests, and more importantly, can be challenged by informed teacher educators (e.g., see the work of Marx, 2004a, 2004b, and 2006; reviewed by Valencia, 2010, chapter 5). The types of curricular changes one can implement to combat deficit thinking in teacher education programs are many. As a case in point, there is the need for preservice teachers to be exposed to a teaching module or course that covers teacher-student interactions. This unit would include lectures and discussions, for instance, on the nature and implications of teacher expectations, that is (a) Galatea effects (self-fulfilling prophecy effects in which achievement can be positive), (b) Golen effects (self-fulfilling prophecy effects in which achievement outcomes can be negative), and (c) sustaining expectation effects (take place when the performance of a student is maintained at a specific level because the teacher does not recognize student improvement) (Rubie-Davis, Hattie, & Hamilton, 2006; chapter 6, New Zealand). Another fruitful reform domain in teacher education programs is suggested by a number of studies I review for the present volume (e.g., Hyland & Heuschkel, 2010; Ullucci & Battey, 2011, chapter 2, U.S.A.). Researchers (mostly professors in teacher training programs) report on how the effects of White privilege and racism by preservice teachers, as manifested via deficit thinking, influence their attitudes and behaviors toward marginalized students. A thread that runs through these investigations is that researchers utilize the teacher education experience as a valuable forum to implement a social justice curriculum designed to identify, interrupt, and transform deficit thinking via critical thinking, self-reflection, the development of an asset-based perspective of marginalized students, and the establishment of multicultural frames of reference. 3. Need for schools to welcome marginalized parents, as well as for teachers to build strong connections with them, and the need for schools to allow

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opportunities for parental empowerment. In educational discourse there is a sine qua non that the more parents, including marginalized ones, get involved in their children’s schooling, the more successful their offspring will be— particularly in the improvement of academic achievement and the fostering of favorable attitudes toward learning. This essential point is supported by a copious body of quantitative and qualitative research evidence ( Jeynes, 2005, 2011; Valencia, 2015, chapter 8). Furthermore, this research informs us that all parents, across different ethnic and SES groups, have aspirations that their children will succeed in school. Notwithstanding the research findings that parental involvement is a positive force in promoting school success of their children, my synthesis of the literature I reviewed for the current book has set off a loud alarm of concern. Of the 49 deficit thinking themes germane to the 16 countries, “Parents” has emerged as the second most frequent at n = 7 (14.3%) (see chapter 2, Table 2.2, present volume). For example, Lawson (2003, chapter 2, U.S.A.) found that poor communication existed between elementary school teachers and African American parents. This barrier to better communicative exchanges, parents noted, was based in the teachers’ aloofness that they perceived themselves as “experts,” and thus this led to the excluding/ignoring of the parents’ opinions. Another illustration of deficit thinking directed toward marginalized parents is seen in the investigation by Balarin and Cueto (2007, chapter 4, Peru). The authors report that a number of public primary school teachers distance themselves from Peruvian parents. The teachers appeared to put the blame of poor student achievement on home-related factors (e.g., alleged dysfunctional families). Balarin and Cueto also note that the parents received little and inadequate guidance from teachers as how to provide support for their children’s academic development. A third case in point how marginalized parents are deemed deficient by teachers is further observed in the study by Felix, Dornbrack, and Scheckle (2008, chapter 10, South Africa). The authors found that teachers in a Black township primary school stated, for example, that parents “won’t understand” how to help with their children’s homework because the parents lacked the “mental capacity” (p. 106). One teacher, who was referring to students not turning in homework, said that: “Black students do not do homework as it is not part of their culture of learning” (p. 107). To be sure, schools—particularly their chief agents, teachers—need to be much more cognizant of the significant impact of the roles parental involvement play in fostering achievement motivation and academic success in their offsprings. By teachers making parents welcome in school and the classroom, working with parents as partners, and allowing opportunities for parental empowerment (e.g., partaking in decision making; being given leadership roles), the building of roadways to combat deficit thinking of teachers is possible. One such example is discussed

256  Final Thoughts

in Gorinski and Fraser (2006, chapter 6, New Zealand) who note that one effective way to improve relationships between Pasifika parents and schools is to offer bilingual community liaisons to assist in language and cultural bridge building between home and school. A similar instance is discussed in Agirdag and Van Houtte (2011). The authors describe the work and value of a “bridge person” who is employed in every elementary school (with 50% or more “socially disadvantaged” students) in the city of Ghent, Belgium. The bridge people, many who are from Turkish and Northern Africa backgrounds and are bilingual, also have experience as social workers. Some of their duties are: making home visits; translating documents; working closely with teachers. Agirdag and Van Houtte note that the bridge program has proven successful because: (a) the bridge person’s salary is paid by the city, thus the workers are independent from the school district; (b) there is an ethnic match between the bridge person and the family who is served; (c) there is a firm anti-deficit thinking mindset among the bridge people. To sum, parental involvement/engagement as a vehicle to reduce school failure of marginalized students is a force with which to be reckoned. But we must be realistic regarding the politics of public education. Public schools are far from being neutral institutions, and in many instances, they are not responsive to marginalized parents. By their use of particular linguistic structures, embedded capital, curriculum, governance, and assumptions of home environments, schools “invite” certain segments of the community and discourage others to participate. Notwithstanding this selectivity on the part of schools, given the importance of agency and empowerment of parental stakeholders, it is incumbent—through our capacities as scholars, teachers, counselors, principals, or makers of educational and social policy—to value and support all efforts that lead to parental empowerment and liberatory activism.

References Agirdag, O., & Van Houtte, M. (2011). A tale of two cities: Bridging families and schools. Educational Leadership, 68, 42–46. Balarin, M., & Cueto, S. (2007). The quality of parental participation and student achievement in Peruvian government schools (Working Paper No. 35). University of Oxford (UK), Department of International Development, ODID:Young Lives, and International Study of Childhood Poverty. Retrieved January 3, 2018 from www.ninosdelmilenio.org/wpcontent/uploads/2012/10/wp35.pdf. Felix, N., Dornbrack, J., & Scheckle, E. (2008). Parents, homework and socio-economic class: Discourses of deficit and disadvantage in the “new” South Africa. English Teaching: Practice and Critique, 7, 99–112. Retrieved January 21, 2019 from http://education. waikato.ac.nz/research/files/etpc/2008v7n2art6.pdf. Gorinski, R., & Fraser, C. (2006). Literature review on the effective engagement of Pasifika parents and communities in education (Report to the Ministry of Education). Tauranga, New Zealand: Pacific Coast Applied Research Centre, Bay of Plenty Polytechnic.

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Hyland, N. E., & Heuschkel, K. (2010). Fostering understanding of institutional oppression among U.S. pre-service teachers. Teaching and Teacher Education, 26, 821–829. Jeynes, W. H. (2005). A meta-analysis of the relation of parental to urban elementary school achievement. Urban Education, 40, 237–269. Jeynes, W. H. (2011). Parental involvement and academic success. New York, NY: Routledge. Lawson, M. A. (2003). School-family relations in context: Parent and teacher perceptions of parent involvement. Urban Education, 38, 77–133. Marx, S. (2004a). Exploring and challenging whiteness and white racism with white preservice teachers. In V. Lea & J. Helfand (Eds.), Identifying race and transforming whiteness in the classroom (pp. 132–152). New York, NY: Peter Lang. Marx, S. (2004b). Regarding whiteness: Exploring and intervening in the effects of white racism in teacher education. Equity & Excellence in Education, 37, 31–43. Marx, S. (2006). Revealing the invisible: Confronting passive racism in teacher education. New York, NY: Routledge. Midgley,W.,Tyler, M. A., Danaher, P. A., & Mander, A. (Eds.). (2011). Beyond binaries in education research. New York, NY: Routledge. Rubie-Davis, C., Hattie, J., & Hamilton, R. (2006). Expecting the best for students: Teacher expectations and academic outcomes. British Journal of Educational Psychology, 76, 429–444. Singh, M. (2011). Foreward: Renewing the critical function of education research. In W. Midgley, M. A. Tyler, P. A. Danaher, & A. Mander (Eds.), Beyond binaries in education research (pp. xvii–xix). New York, NY: Routledge. Ullucci, K., & Battey, D. (2011). Exposing color blindness/grounding color consciousness: Challenges for teacher education. Urban Education, 46, 1195–1225. Valencia, R. R. (2010). Dismantling contemporary deficit thinking: Educational thought and practice. Critical Educator Series. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R. (2015). Students of color and the achievement gap: Systemic challenges, systemic transformations. New York, NY: Routledge. Valencia, R. R., & Suzuki, L. A. (2001). Intelligence testing and minority students: Foundations, performance factors, and assessment issues. Series on Racial and Ethnic Minority Psychology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

INDEX

Note: Bold page numbers refer to tables. Abdullahi, A. A. 15, 244–249, 250n30–31 Abel, R. 145, 250n18 Aboriginal English (AE) xiv, 136, 138 Aboriginal peoples 2; Australia 121–123, 133; Canada 66–70, 80 Aboriginal students: Australia 125, 127–128, 139; Canada 71, 74, 78, 82–84; see also students Aboriginal teachers: Australia 136; Canada 76, 78; see also teachers Above National Minimum Standard (Above NMS) 125 academic achievement 1–4; Canada 70; Costa Rica 103–105; England 17; Peru 109; students 4; test performance 1 academic disengagement 3 academic socialization 11 access 51 achievement chasm 1; Latino/Latina students 38; Mexican American students 38 the achievement gap (TAG) 1–2; Australia 124–126; Belgium 199–200; Belgium students 2; Black students 38; Canada 2, 69–70; China 224–225; communication process model 3–5; comprehensiveness 6; cultural-ecological model (CEM) 3; deficit thinking model 8–20; England 173–176; Fiji 163; India 219–220;

Moroccan students 2; New Zealand 148–149; Nigeria 245–246; South Africa 236–237; systemic inequality model (SIM) 5–8; theoretical perspectives 2–20; Turkish students 2; United States 38–39; White students 38 achievement test performance, United States 38 Acioly-Régnier, N. 98–100 Acuña, R. F. 3 Adams, J. 233 Adekeye, S. D. 15, 244–249, 250n30–31 administrators: Canada 79–80; Fiji 165; United States 47–55 affirmative action quotas 249 Africa 231–249; educational attainment 232; GDP per capita xxiii, 232; illiterate men and women xxiii; Nigeria 244–249; overview 231–232; population 232; South Africa 232–244; unemployment 247 African American 37; Australia 139; enrollment in LSD 53; involuntary students 3; parents 255; school failure 1–2; United States 42 African Blacks 9 African Caribbean students 174, 177–178, 183 African Liberation Day 231 Afrikaans 233–234 Afrikaner National Party 234

Index  259

Afro-Peruvians 109 Agirdag, O. 200, 205–207, 256 Aja-Okorie, U. 244, 247–249 Ajwani, S. 146 Akhtar, N. 220, 222 Akubue, F. N. 247 Alaska Native 37 Alberta 67 Alford, J. H. 133–134, 141n18 Ali, J. 69 Allport, G. W. 21n24 Alme, K. 245 Alternative party of Germany (Af D) 192 Amanti, C. 107 Amanti, L. C. 107 American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World (Stannard) 36 American Indian: compared with White students 2; cranial capacity 9; involuntary students 3; school failure 2, 4–5; United States 2, 36–37, 68 Amerindian 37 Ammachichi, N. 93, 113n3 Amsterdam, C. 238 Anderson, E. 68 Anderson, L. 49–51 Andrade, F. H. xxv, 41, 46 Angelo, D. 132–133 Anglo-Irish War 193 Anglo Saxons 9 antiracism, Canada 80 Anyon, J. 6–7, 73, 85–86 apartheid, South Africa 234–235 Apple, M. 6, 8 Arana, M. 109 Araújo, M. 17, 179–180 Araujo, R. J. xxvn2 Archer, L. 180 Arctic 69 Aristotle 2 6 Armstrong, M. 123 arthritis 69 Artiles, A. 85 Aruguete, M. S. 102 Aryan Nations 67 Aryans 218 Ashford, S. 49–51 Asia 36, 217–226; child labor 218; China 223–226; educational attainment 217; illiteracy rate 217; India 218–223; out-of-school children 217–218; population 217; poverty line 217

Asian students 175 Atkinson, M. 149 Atlantic Ocean 231 at-risk model 9, 11, 18 attitudes: Black students 3; English learner (EL) students 42; preservice teachers 42; students of color 42 Au, K. H. 5, 20n7 Aud, S. 39 Auletta, K. 11, 21n20 Australia 121–140; Aboriginal people 9, 121–123; Aboriginal students 125, 127–128, 133, 139; Aboriginal teachers 136; the achievement gap (TAG) 124–126; African American 139; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 121–122; conquest of 121–122; deficit thinking 127–140; developmental assessment 135–140; educability 124–125; education 123–124; employment 123; ethnic demographic profile 122–123; income inequality xxii; Indigenous peoples 122; language 132–135; Mexican Americans 139; multiculturalism 131; non-Indigenous people 123; oppression 123; Othering 121; population 123; racism 126, 128; rich and poor xxii; teacher education 130–132; teachers 127–130; unemployment 123 Austroasiatic 219 autonomous students, United States 3 Auwarter, A. E. 102 awareness programs 248 Ayers, W. 48 Aymaras 109 Azanian Sea 231 Bachelor of Education program, Canada 78 Badka Bandh (school) 220–221 bad kids 72 Baergen, W. B. 67 Bagley, W. C. 20 Balanda 134 Balarin, M. 109–111, 115n31, 255 Ball, S. J. 184–186 Banfield, E. C. 11, 21n20 Bangladesh 217; illiterate men xxiii; illiterate women xxiii Bangladeshi students 174, 176 Banks, C. A. 195

260 Index

Banks, J. A. 88n30, 195 Bantu Education Act of 1958 16, 234 Barajas-López, F. 55 Baratz, J. C. 4 Baratz, S. S. 4 barbarians 66 barbarism 66 Barker, E. 6 Barnard, W. M. 55 Barnes, A. 146, 166n6 Basavarajappa, K. 68 basic interpersonal communicative skills (BICS) 167n25 Batell, M. F. 5 Battey, D. 42–43, 254 Beckenham, P. W. 125 Beeghley, L. 72 Behavioral, Emotional, and Social Difficulties (BESD) 181 behaviors: Black students 3; English learner (EL) students 42; human 13, 18, 41; reactionary 46; students of color 42 Behaviour Support Unit (BSU) 182 Belgium 199–207; the achievement gap (TAG) 2, 199–200; deficit thinking 200–207; ethnicity 199; immigrant 199; language 205–207; monocultural school practices 204–205; perceptions of school failure and success 201–204; population 199; teacher racism 201–204; see also England Below National Minimum Standard (Below NMS) 125–126 Benn, M. 179, 186n16 Bentley, C. C. 55 Bereiter, C. 19, 22n28 Berhanu, G. 181, 209n19 Bernard, B. 46 Berryman, M. 148 Beteille, A. 219 Beyond Deficit Paradigms (Guo) 81–82 Beyond Deficit Paradigms (Moletsane) 233 Bialystok, E. 206 Biggs, J. 242 bilingual education 112–113 bilingualism 205–206, 240; basic interpersonal communicative skills (BICS) 167n25; cognitive academic language proficiency (CALP) 167n25 Billington, R. 132, 141n21 Bill of Rights 161 binarization 15, 56, 253

Binchy, A. 193–197, 209n18, 209n22 Bishop, R. 49, 85, 145–148, 166 Black, M. S. 11, 53, 72, 81, 158, 165, 198, 201 Black African students 182 Black Caribbean students: Canada 72; England 181–182, 184, 186 Black high school, Washington, D.C. 3 Black students xx, xxiii; attitudes 3; behaviors 3; Canada 71; cranial capacity 9; educability of 13; England 2, 174–175, 177, 183–184; enrollment percentages 39; segregation of 37; South Africa 2, 233, 235, 242; TAG 38; United States 41; see also students Blakely, T. 146 blaming the victim 12–13, 71 Blank, M. 3–4 Blood and Honour 67 Blum, J. 16, 17 Blumer, H. 202 Boas, Franz 20 Boddy-Evans, A. 231 Bolotta, A. 67 Bond, H. M. 20 Bonne, M. 146 Book of Genesis 194 Books, S. 85 Boon, H. J. 141n15 Borowski, S. 13, 21n22 Boswell, J. 141n19 Bourdieu, P. xxii, 19, 22n30, 54 Bowles, S. 6–8, 94 Boyd, D. 42 Boyle, B. 42, 176, 180–181 Brancos 94 Brantlinger, E. 6 Brazil 94–100; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; deficit thinking 94–100; differential pedagogies 94–96; ethnic demographic profile 94; ethnic groups 94; Hill School 94–95; marginalized students 97; Outskirt School 94–96; Park School 94–96; population 94; poverty 97; school failure 96–97; street mathematics 98–100; teachers 96–98 Brazilians 94; income inequality xxii; rich and poor xxii British Columbia 71 British East Indian Company 218 British Indian Empire 218 British Raj 218

Index  261

Brock, B. L. 47 Brock University in Ontario 78 Brook Hills HS 49–51 Brophy, J. E. 46, 114n21 Brown, A. L. 196 Brown, B. 20 Brown, K. D. 196 Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka 124 Buckland, P. 236 Buddhism 219 Bunting, W. L. 234 Bunya Public School (BPS) 136, 137 Buxton, L. 141n15 California 36 Campbell, A. xxi, 76–77 Campbell, C. 52, 123–124 Campos, D. xxvn9 Canada 66–87; Aboriginal peoples 66–70, 80; Aboriginal students 71, 74, 78, 82–84; Aboriginal teachers 76, 78; academic achievement 70; the achievement gap (TAG) 2, 69–70; administrators 79–80; antiracism 80; Bachelor of Education program 78; Black Caribbean male students 72; Black students 71; blaming the victim 71; Canadian Indian 66; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 66–67; conquest of 66–67; curriculum differentiation 73; deficit thinking 70–84; educational attainment 70; Emily Carr Elementary 75; employment 69; English learner (EL) students 71; ethnic demographic profile 67–69; families of color 72; higher education 82–84; immigrants 68; Indigenous peoples 66, 68; Latino/ Latina 72; Marco Polo Elementary 74–75; marginalization 80; marginalized students 71, 73; multiculturalism 80; non-­Aboriginal peoples 70; parents 81–82; per capita 68; population 67–68; Princess Grace Elementary 74–75; principals’ role in addressing racism 79; racism 67, 83; at risk 70–76; school failure 70–71; school financing 73; school segregation 73; South American students 71; students 70–76; students of color 71, 73, 85; teacher candidates 76–79; teacher quality 73; teachers 76–79; teachers of color 76;

unemployment 68; visible minorities 68; White students 71; White supremacists 67; White teachers 76 Canada: Face of a Nation (Kempf ) 67 Canada in Decay: Mass Immigration, Diversity, and the Ethnocide of EuroCanadians (Duchesne) 67 Canadian Indians 66; Canada 66; United States 36–37 Cant 196–197 Cape Colony 233–234 Cape Dutch 233 capitalism 7, 36, 231 Capper, C. A. 48 Carnevale, A. P. 39 Carraher, D. W. 98–99 Carraher, T. N. 98–99 Carter, Carol 52 caste, India 219 castelike students see involuntary students Castle, K. 218–219 Cazden, C. B. 4 CEM see cultural-ecological model (CEM) centrality 2, 72, 78, 128; of experiential knowledge xxii; race/racism xxi challenges: critical race theory (CRT) xxi–xxii; deficit thinking 49; to dominant ideology xxi; Latino/Latina students 46; orthodoxy 19 Chang, R.S. xxvn4 Charles, M. 42, 176, 180–181 Chavez MS 52 Cheah, B. 39 Cherubini, L. 76, 78 Chick, K. 239–241 child labor 218 Childs, C. 98 China 223–226; the achievement gap (TAG) 224–225; deficit thinking 225–226; ethnic demographic profile 224; higher education 225–226; history 223–224; languages 224; population 37, 190, 224 Chinese students 175 Choi, K. 225 Christianity 111, 219 chronic malnutrition 109 Chubbuck, S. 130–131 Churchill, W. 37 Church of the Creator 67 Clarke, M. 225–226 class inequality analysis xxii–xxiii

262 Index

classism 44 Clébert, J. P. 194 Clycq, N. 201–202, 209n24, 209n33 Cochran-Smith, M. 44–45 Codd, J. 154 codeswitching 241 cognitive academic language proficiency (CALP) 167n25 cognitive dissonance 77 college graduation 1, 38 Collen, H. L. 234 Collins, J. 6–7, 20n7, 94 Collyns, D. 112, 115n32 colonia 106–107 colonialism/postcolonialism xxiv–xxv; Australia xxiv; Brazil xxiv; Canada xxiv; Costa Rica xxiv; Fiji xxiv; India xxiv; Latin America 93; Mexico xxiv; New Zealand xxiv; Nigeria xxiv; Peru xxiv; South Africa xxiv; United States xxiv colonization: Australia 121–122; of Canada 66–67; defined xxiv; Fiji 163; India 218–219; New Zealand 145–146; Nicaragua 101; Nigeria 245; South Africa 233–234; United States 35–37 color blindness 42–43, 184 Columbus, C. 35–36, 100–101 commitment 75; educational equality 149; racial diversity 242; to social justice xxi–xxii, 80 communication barriers 159 communication process model 3–5; England 3; evolution 4; framework 4–5; importance 5; United States 3 comprehensiveness 6 confidence, lack of 158 conformist resistance 46 conquest: Australia 121–122; Canada 66–67; India 218–219; New Zealand 145–146; Nigeria 245; South Africa 233–234; United States 35–37 The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other (Todorov) 36 continuity hypothesis 73 Cook, J. 121, 145 Coolahan, J. 20n20, 195 Coon, C. S. 21n12 Cooper, C. W. 165 Cope, Z. xxii Cornwell, J. xxiv, 234 Cortés, H. 105

Costa Rica 100–105; academic achievement 103–105; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; deficit thinking 101–105; history 100; immigrants 100; La Escuela Britanica 104; literacy knowledge 104; marginalization 103–105; Nicaraguans living in 100–105; population 101; teachers 101–103 Costa Ricans 100 Council of European Canadians 67 Craven, R. G. 141n15 Crawford, J. 101 Cremin, L. A. 6 Crenshaw, K. xxvn2 critical discourses 72 critical literacy 133 critical pedagogy 7–8, 72, 75, 79 critical race theory (CRT) xx–xxii; centrality of experiential knowledge xxii; challenges xxi; challenge to dominant ideology xxi; commitment to social justice xxi–xxii; experiential knowledge xxii; heterodoxy xxi; interdisciplinary perspective xxii critical thinking 75 criticism 3; Princess Grace Elementary 75; systemic inequality model (SIM) 8 Crozier, G. 176–177, 183–184, 186n12, 187n20, 209n24 CRT see critical race theory (CRT) Crul, M. 200, 209n30, 209n33 Cruz MS 52 Cuba 36 Cueto, S. 109–111, 115n31, 255 cultural differences 4 cultural-ecological model (CEM) 3 cultural exclusion xxiv, 7 cultural frameworks 158 cultural invasion xxiv culturally disadvantaged child 11 cultural reproduction 7, 94 culture of poverty model 10–11, 18 The Cultures Collide (Woodcock) 148 Cummins 156, 167n25 curricular interventions: Black children 19; marginalized students and 8; temporal changes 17 curriculum: implicit 6; school 249; social justice 75 curriculum differentiation xxiv, 5; Canada 73; England 178–180; New Zealand 153–155; see also curriculum

Index  263

Dalamba, Y. 238 Dalits 219, 220 Danaher, P. A. 21n25, 253 Daniel, B. J. xviii, xxi, 76–77 Darder, A. 7 Darling-Hammond, L. 48 Darrah, P. 222 Darwin, C. 124 da Silva, T. T. 19, 94–97 Davies, J. 177 The Dawn of Canadian History: A Chronicle of Aboriginal Canada and the Coming of the White Man (Leacock) 66–67 decline-of-standards discourse 240 decolonization xxv, 235; see also colonization deficit thinking 1–20; the achievement gap (TAG) 1–2; Australia 127–140; Belgium 200–207; Brazil 94–100; Canada 70–84; challenges 49; China 225–226; Costa Rica 101–105; defined 13; England 176–186; Fiji 165–166; funds of knowledge as counternarratives to 106–107; India xxiv, 220–223; Ireland 194–199; Mexico xxiv, 106–108; New Zealand 149–166; Nigeria xxiv, 244, 246–249; overview xx; Peru 110–113; school failure 1–2; South Africa 238–244; strategies used by principals 50–51; themes 34–35; threshold concept xi–xii; United States 12, 34–35, 39–57; xenophobia and 191 deficit thinking model 8–20; at-risk model 9, 11; binarization 15; blaming the victim 12–13; characteristics 12–20; culture of poverty model 10–11; educability 18–19; fundamental attribution error 13–14; genetic pathology model 9–10; heterodoxy 19–20; oppression 15–17; origin and history 9; Othering 14–15; pseudoscience 8; science 8; temporal changes 17–18; three variants 9–11 Degler, C. N. 124 Dei, G. J. S. xxv, 86–87 De Jesús, A. 7 de Jesús, D. M. xiii–xiv, 96–98, 114n9–10 Delgado, R. xx, xxvn2 Delgado Bernal, D. xxvn4, 7–8, 46, 58n20 Delpit, L. 4 demonization: of Mexicans 192; xenophobia 191

Dennis, A. 202 Department of Education and Sciences (DES) 196 Desai, I. 217 Desai, S. 220 detracking 51 Deutsch, M. 20 developmental assessment, Australia 135–140 Devine, D. 197–198, 209n23 Devlin, B. 134–135, 141n19–20 Deyhle, D. xxvn3 diabetes 69 dialogue 50 Diana v. State Board of Education 138–139 differential pedagogies, Brazil 94–96 diphtheria 35 discourse analysis 77 discrimination xxiv Divided World, Divided Classes (Cope) xxii Dixon, A. 178–179, 186n15 Dixon, I. R. 55 Dixon, S. 132–133 Doiron, A. 78–79 domestic violence xxiii dominant ideology xxi Dornbrack, J. 165, 243–244, 255 doxa 54–55 dramaturgy 43 Dravidians 219 drilling/rote learning 85–86 dropouts 1–2; Fiji 164; India 2, 220; intervention 249; Mexico 108; secondary school 2, 107–108, 164; United States 38 Drudy, S. 195 Drummond, M. J. 178–179, 186n15 Dryfoos, J. 57 Dua Secondary School (DSS), Fiji 165–166 Duchesne, R. 67 Dudley-Marling, C. 4, 20n6 Duncan, T. T. 125 Dutch East India Company 233 dyadic interactions 152 Dyson, A. 181–183, 187n18, 209n19 early education, New Zealand 146–148 Eckermann, A. K. 127–128 economically disadvantaged school-age children 2 economically favored children 2

264 Index

economic crisis, Nicaragua 101 economic growth xxiii economic reproduction 6 economy, Peru 109 educability 18–19; Australia 124–125; of Black elementary students 13; deficit thinking model 18–19; heredity-based 19; human behavior and 18; students of color 19, 41, 45–46 educable mental retardation (EMR) 138 education: Australia 123–124; Fiji 164; gender inequality and 221–222; Ireland 195; preservice teachers 42; race/racism in xxii; reform for females 248–249; segregation in xxi; students of color 36; United States 6 Education Act of 1867 146 educational attainment: Africa 232; Asia 217; Canada 70 educational inequality, India 220 Education for Blacks 234–235 Edwards, T. J. 11 Effective Engagement of Pasifika Parents and Communities in Education (Gorinski and Fraser) 157–159 El-haj, T. 87 emancipatory curriculum 8 Emily Carr Elementary, Canada 75 employment: Australia 123; Canada 69 Employment Equity Act (EEA) 68 empowerment 7, 20, 73, 132, 157, 206 Engelmann, S. 3 England 37, 173–186; academic achievement 17; the achievement gap (TAG) 173–176; Asian students 175; Bangladeshi students 174, 176; Black Caribbean students 181–182, 184, 186; Black students 2, 174–175, 177, 183–184; Chinese students 175; communication process model 3; curriculum differentiation 178–180; deficit thinking 176–186; ethnic demographic profile 173; Greenfield Comprehensive 179–180; Indian students 175; inequalities 176; marginalized students 17, 179; monetary backers 36; New Labour Party 17; Pakistani students 174, 176; parents 183–186; population 173; special education 181–183; standardsbased school reform movement 180–181; teachers 176–178; White students 175; White teachers 42

Englert, C. 85 English as an Additional Language (EAL) 179–180 English as an Additional Language/ Dialect (EAL/D) 133–134 English learner (EL) students 1; attitudes 42; behaviors 42; Canada 71 English-only discourse 240 English Pilgrims 36 Equality for Women = Prosperity for All: The Disastrous Global Crisis of Gender Inequality (López-Claros and Nakhyavani) xxiii–xxiv equal opportunity xxi Erickson, F. 4, 20n7 Ernest, P. 98 Eskimos 69 Esposito, A. 219 ethnic demographic profile: Australia 122–123; Brazil 94; Canada 67–69; China 224; England 173; India 219; Nigeria 245; South Africa 235–236; United States 37–38 ethnography 3 Europe 35, 190–207; Belgium 199–207; immigrants and refugees 192; Ireland 193–199; unemployment 198; xenophobia in 191–193; see also England European Commission on Racism and Intolerance 192 European Renaissance 231 European Union 190 expectations: preservice teachers 42; sustaining expectation effects 150; teachers 45, 101–102, 150–151, 175 experiential knowledge xxii extremism 13 Ezegbe, B. N. 247 Fa’afoi, A. 159–160, 167n19, 167n28 Facing Mount Kenya: The Traditional Life of the Gikuyu (Kenyatta) 235 Fairclough, N. 133 families of color, Canada 72 Farkas, G. 20n3 fascism 191 Fatimayin, F. 247–248 Felix, N. 165, 243–244, 255 female infanticide 222 Fiji 162–166; the achievement gap (TAG) 163; administrator 165; colonialism and

Index  265

postcolonialism xxiv; colonization 163; deficit thinking 165–166; dropouts 164; Dua Secondary School (DSS) 165–166; education 164; population 163; teachers 165 Fijian students 163–165 Fiji Education Commission (FEC) 164 Fiji Housing Authority 164 Fine, M. 21n18 first language needs 158 First Nations 67, 68, 74 Five Families: Mexican Case Studies in the Culture of Poverty (Lewis) 10 Flessa, J. 51–52, 58–59n32 Fletcher, J. 159–160, 167n19, 167n28 Florida 36 Foley, D. E. 10, 11, 18 Ford, M. 125–126, 141n13 Fordham, S. 3 formal test 99 Foucault, M. 197 Frade, C. 98–100 France 37 Franklin MS 52 Fraser, C. 157–159, 167n26–27, 256 Frattura, E. M. 48 Freire, P. xxiv French, J. 48 Fresh Start schools 179 Frey, W. H. xxiii, 37, 57n5 Frontier Wars 122 Frost, J. F. 11 Frymier, J. 11 fundamental attribution error 13–14 funds of knowledge as counternarratives to deficit thinking: Mexico 106–107 Galatea effects 150–151 Gallannaugh, F. 181–182, 187n18 Galton, F. 9, 57n1 Gama, E.P. xiii–xiv, 96–98, 114n9–10 Gammon 196 Gándara, P. 206, 250n24 Gans, H. J. 21n15 Gansneder, B. 11 gaps in the literature 157–158 García, M. E. 110–113, 115n33 García, R. xxvn4 García, S. B. 58n29 García-López, S. P. 48 Gardner, H. 98 Garner, S. 193

Garza, E., Jr. 47–48 Gathercole, V. C. M. 206 Gay, G. 73 GDP see gross domestic product (GDP) gender destiny 108 gender discrimination xxi Gender Equality Index 244 gender inequality: analysis xxiii–xxiv; education and 221–222; India 221–222; Mexico 107–108; Nigeria 244, 246–248 General Certificate of Secondary Education (GCSE) 173–175, 184 genetic pathology model 9–10, 18, 40–41 genocide 36 George, A. 151–153 Germany 37 Ghosh, R. 76 Giant of Africa see Nigeria Gibson, M. A. 81 Gillborn, D. 126, 174–177, 183–186, 186n5–6, 186n8, 187n21, 187n23 Gillies, V. 182–183 Gintis, H. 6–8, 94 Giroux, H. A. 7, 8 Glevey, K. E. 175, 186n7, 186n9, 186n11 Global Inequality (Milanovic) xxii–xxiii Gold Coast 231 Golen effects 150 González, N. 107 Good, T.L. 114n21 Goode, J. 10 Gorinski, R. 157–159, 167n26–27, 256 Gotanda, N. xxvn2 Gould, J. xiv, 15, 135–140, 141n23, 181 Gould, S. J. 9, 21n13 Grabb, E. 69 grade retention, United States 38 Graduate Record Examination (GRE) scores 38 Grady, M. L. 47 Gramsci, A. 7 Green, N. 125 Greenberg, A. S. 36, 105 Greenberg, S. B. 21n10 Greenfield, P. 98 Greenfield Comprehensive, England 179–180 gross domestic product (GDP) xxiii, 232

266 Index

Grossman, P. 42 Guerra, P. L. 58n29 Guo, Y. 81–82, 209n24 Hale, J. E. 5 Hall, J. M. 160 Hallgarten, J. 199 Hallinger, P. 47 Halvorsen, A. xxv, 41, 46 Hamilton, R. 46, 150–151, 167n20, 254 Hampton, M. 76 Hanafin, J. 198–199 Han Dynasty 223–224 Harary, F. 5 Harris, F. 155–156, 167n24 Hart, B. 4, 20n6 Hart, S. 178–179, 186n15 Hartshorne, K. 235 Hattie, J. 46, 150–151, 167n20, 254 Hausmann, L. R. M. 238 Hawaiian 37 Hawkes, G. R. 11 Heath, S. B. 20n7 Heaton, D. xxv, 46–47, 58n21 Heck, R. H. 47 hegemony 7 Hellmuth, J. 11 Helms, J. E. 140n9 Henderson, R. 21n25 hereditarianism 179; India 220–221; United States 17 Herrstein, R. J. 40 heterodoxy xxi, 19–20 Heuschkel, K. 43–44, 58n16, 254 Hibbert, P. xi Hickling-Hudson, A. 131–132 higher education: Canada 82–84; China 225–226; New Zealand 160–162; South Africa 242–243; see also education Hill, R. 156 Hill School, Brazil 94–95 Hinduism 219 Hindus 218, 220 Hispaniola 36 Ho, L-Z. 55 Hoare, Q. 7 Hodson, J. 76, 78 Hofmeyer, J. 236 home-school engagement strategies 159 homework 51 Hong, S. 55, 57, 59n39

Hook, D. 233 Hopkins, M. 206, 250n24 Horn, H. 192 Hornberger, N. H. 110, 113, 115n34 Horowitz, J. 192 Hövermann, A. 190 Howie, S. 236–237 Hu, Z. 224 Huang, X. 224 Hudley, C. 20n3 Huffman, T. 73 human behavior 13, 18, 41 human capital xxiii Human Rights Act 161 Humes, K. R. 37 Hunt, J. A. 48 Hürriyet (Turkish newspaper) 207 Hyland, N. E. 43–44, 58n16, 254 hypertension 69 ideological incongruence 77 Ihensekhien, O. A. 244–249 illiteracy rate, Asia 217 immigrants 1; Belgium 199; Canada 68, 81–82; Costa Rica 100; England 17; IQ 40; Nicaraguans 100, 102–103; parents 81–82; pupils xx; refugees in Europe and 192; United States 3, 40 implicit curriculum 6 Inca Empire 111 income chasms/inequality: Australians xxii; Brazilians xxii; Mexico xxiii; United States xxiii India 190, 218–223; the achievement gap (TAG) 219–220; Badka Bandh (school) 220–221; caste 219; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 218–219; conquest of 218–219; deficit thinking xxiv, 220–223; dropouts 2; educational inequality 220; ethnic demographic profile 219; female infanticide 222; gender inequality 221–222; hereditarianism 220–221; illiterate men xxiii; illiterate women xxiii; laborers 163; low-caste primary school students 19; lower-caste students 2; Majhauli (school) 220; population 37, 219; poverty 219; Pre-natal Diagnostic Techniques Act in 1994 222; school failure 221; teacher education 222–223; upper-caste students 2 Indian Ocean 231

Index  267

Indian students 175 Indigena 94 Indigenous Māori 145 Indigenous peoples 15; Australia 122; Canada 66, 68; Peru 109; United States 36; Western Hemisphere 36 Indigenous population 36 Indigenous students xx, 1, 10, 112, 125, 128, 133 Indo-Aryan 219 Indo-European 219 inequalities: England 176; Latin America 93 infant mortality rates 69 influenza 35 informal test 99 Ing, R. xxiv Ingersoll, R. R. 41–42 Inner City Students: Stamped, Labeled, and Shipped Out! Deficit Thinking and Democracy in an Age of Neoliberalism (Sharma) 84–87 Innuit 68–70 institutional leadership 47 intellectual inferiority 10 intellectual superiority 10 intelligence: language and 135–140; Mexicans 19; Negroes 19 interculturalism 195–196 interdisciplinary perspective xxii international academic achievement 70; see also academic achievement involuntary students 3 IQ: immigrants 40; tests in New Zealand 154 IQ and Immigration Policy (Richwine) 40 Ireland 37, 193–199; deficit thinking 194–199; education 195; Othering 197; parents 198–199; perceptions of Irish Traveller culture and students 194–197; school failure 198; teachers 197–198; see also England Irish Travellers 193–197 Irvine, J. J. 5 Irving, M. A. 20n3 Ishimaru, A. M. 55 Islamophobia 192 Italy 37 iTaukei 163 Jains 219 Jamestown 36 Jansen, J. D. 238

Japan, 217 70 Jensen, A. R. 19, 22n18 Jeynes, W. H. 55, 198, 255 Jiménez-Castellanos, O. 55 Johns, G. 136–137 Jones, N. A. 37 Joyce, C. 195 Jun, L. 98–100 Jung, M-K. 37 Kallaway, P. 235 Kalyanpur, M. 219–220, 222 Kanu, Y. 73–74, 88n22 Karns, M. S. xxvn9 Katz, D. 190–191 Katz, M. B. 11, 21n15 Kausal, N. 38 Kearins, J. 141n20 Keddie, A. 130–131 Kemp, K. 141n19 Kempf, A. 66–67, 86, 87n2 Kenny, M. 193–197, 209n18, 209n22 Kenyatta, J. 235 Khair, T. 192, 208n6 King, C. 233 King, K. A. 110, 113, 115n34 Kinsella, W. 67 Kiyama, J. M. 55 Klarman, M. J. 37 Klineberg, Otto 20 Klotz, A. J. 250n18 Kluger, R. 37 Knight, M. C. 55 Knight, T. 89n31 Kolchin, P. 3 Kose, B. W. xxi, 48, 58n24–26 Kozleski, E. 181 Ku Klux Klan (KKK) 67 Kulkarni, V. 220 Kumar, K. 219 Kumar, S. xv, 5, 19, 220–221, 244 Küpper, B. 190 Kwong, J. 224–225 Labov, W. 4 Lacchin, J. M. 66 Ladson-Billings, G. xx, 7 La Escuela Britanica, Costa Rica 104 Lakeside School District (LSD) 52–53 Land, R. xi

268 Index

languages: Australia 132–135; Belgium 205–207; China 224; intelligence and 135–140; New Zealand 155–156; oppression xxiv, 7; South Africa 233, 239–241; subtractive 240 Lankford, H. 42 LaRocque, L. 74–76, 88n23–24 Latin America 93–113; Brazil 94–100; colonialism 93; Costa Rica 100–105; inequalities 93; Mexico 105–108; oppression 93; Peru 109–113; population 93; poverty 93 Latino/Latina xx, xxiii; academic success 47; Canada 72; challenges 46; enrollment percentages 39; middle schools 46; population 37; school failure 2, 47; success xxv; United States 5, 37, 46–47 Lave, J. 98–99 LaViest, T. A. xxiii law of parsimony 12–13, 14 Laws, D. 174 Lawson, M. A. 55–57, 59n37, 255 Leach, A. 141n19 Leacock, S. xxiv, 66–67, 87n2 Learning Without Limits (Hart, Dixon, Drummond, and McIntyre) 178–179 Leder, J. R. 194 Ledlow, S. 73 Lee, M. Y. H. 192–193 Lee, V. E. xxv, 41, 46 legislation 249 Le Pen, Marine 192 Let My people Go (Luthuli) 235 Levin 12 Lewis, O. 10–11 Lewthwaite, B. E. 78–79, 128–130, 141n14–15 Licona, M. M. 106–107 Liégeois, J.-P. 196 Lightfoot, D. 15, 55–56 Likert-type scale 102 Lilly, T. 234 limited economic resources 158–159 Lindsay, G. 181–182, 187n19, 195 Lindsey, R. B. xxvn9 linguicism 44 Liodakis, N. 67–69, 88n10 literacy programs 159 literacy rate, Japan 217 literature review 157–159 Livingstone, D. W. 81 Lleras, C. 20n3

Lloyd, N. J. 141n15 Locke, S. 44 Lodhi, A. 190–191 Loeb, S. 42 Long, H. H. 20 López, G. R. xxvn3 López-Claros, A. xxiii–xxiv, xxvn7 Lourie, R. 20n5 Lovegrove, M. N. 155, 166n17 Lowell, A. 134–135, 141n19–20 lower-caste students, India 2 Lubeck, S. 12, 21n18, 70 Lucas, K. 4, 20n6 Luthuli, A. J. 235 Lynch, A. 198–199 Lynn, R. 10, 58n10 Macalister, R. A. 196 MacDonald, C. 66 MacGréil, M. 193 Maclean, R. 217 MacSwan, J. 20n4 Maczuga, S. 20n3 Madley, B. 36 Majhauli (school) 220 Malle, B. F. 21n23 Mampaey, J. 199–201, 204–205, 209n33 Mandarin Chinese 224 Mandela, N. 235 Mander, A. 253 Manifest Destiny 36, 105 Manitoba 80 Manley-Casimir, M. 76, 78 Mann, C. W. 163 Mann, H. 6 Māori students 2, 19, 146–156, 160–162 Marandi, S. M. 14 Marans, A. E. 20n5 Marco Polo Elementary, Canada 74–75 marginalization: Canada 80; Costa Rica 103–105 marginalized parents 254–255 marginalized students xxii, xxiv; achievement chasm 1; Brazil 97; Canada 71, 73; curricular interventions and 8; educability perceptions 8; education 36; England 17, 179; school failure 4–5, 11; schooling inequalities 5 Marian, V. 206 Mark, D. L. H. 42 Martin, C. 52 Martin, P. J. 202

Index  269

Martinek, N. 121 Martin Luther King Day 54 Marx, S. 8, 58n15, 254 Marxist 6 Marzano, R. 44, 47, 244 Mason, J. 20n7 matriculation to college, United States 38–39 Matthews, J. 141n19 Matute-Bianchi, M. E. 20n3 May, H. 41–42 May, S. 41, 156 Mazawi, A. 49, 85 Mbeki, G. 235 Mbokodi, S. 244 McConaghy, C. 73 McConnochie, K. R. 123–125 McCowan, T. 110 McCreanor, T. 146, 166n6 McDonagh, R. 195 McIntosh, P. 76–77, 88n26 McIntyre, D. 178–179 McKay, S. 239–241 McKenzie, K. B. 8, 58n22 McLaren, P. 8 McLear, Martha 20 McMahon, B. J. 70–71, 88n19 McMeniman, M. 131–132 McMillan, B. 78–79 McNamee, S. J. 77 McNulty, B. 47 McVeigh, R. 195 Menchaca, M. 9, 39 mercantile capitalism 36 meritocracy xxi, 43 Mestizos 101, 109 Métis 68, 70 Mexican Americans xxi; Australia 139; enrollment percentages 39; involuntary students 3; Mexico 105–106; New Zealand 155; school failure 1–2; United States 37 Mexican-American War of 1846–1848 105 Mexicans: demonization of 192; intelligence 19 Mexico 105–108; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; deficit thinking xxiv, 106–108; dropouts 108; funds of knowledge as counternarratives to deficit thinking 106–107; gender inequality 107–108; history 105; income

chasms xxiii; Mexican Americans 105–106; population 105; Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo 105–106; war with United States 36 Meyer, J. H. F. xi Mezirow, J. xxii, 54–55 Michaels, S. 20n7 microaggressions 47 Midgley, W. 253 Milanovic, B. xxii–xxiii Miller, R. K. 77 Mills, C. 130–131 Minder, R. 192 Minister of Education 16 minorities, United States 3 minority group students 152–153 Miron, G. 238 Mirza, H. S. 174–175 Mitchell, D. 217 mixed students 181 Mizra, H. 183 Moletsane, R. 233, 249n10 Moll, L. C. 107 Molteno, F. 235 Mongoloid 219 monocultural school practices (MCSP) 204–205 monogenism 9 monogenist 9 monolingual educational system 205 monolingualism 205–207 Montoya, C. 52 Moon, E. 193, 208n11 Moreno, R. P. 11, 55, 158 Moroccan students 2, 199–201 Morrow, R. A. 7–8 Morse, T. E. 139 mortality rates 69 Morton, S. G. 9 Moynihan, D. P. 11, 21n20 Msila, V. 244 Muir, C. 76, 78 multicultural education 195; see also education multiculturalism 195; Australia 131; Canada 80; South Africa 240 Murray, C. 40 Musahar 220–221 Muslim 219 Nagge, J. W. 13 Nairn, R. 146, 166n6

270 Index

Nakhid, C. 148–149, 155, 167n19 Nakhjavani, B. xxiii–xxiv, xxvn7 Narula, M. 220, 222 nascent racism 9; see also race/racism National Assessment of Educational Progress 126 National Australian Program in Literacy and Numeracy (NAPLAN) 125, 133 nationalism 191 National Minimum Standard (NMS) 125 A Nation at Risk: The Imperative for Educational Reform 11 native ability 163 Native American see Indigenous peoples Ndimande, B. S. xxii, 234–236, 238–239, 250n21–22 Neff, D. 107 Negroes, intelligence 19 neohereditarianism, United States 40–41 Netherlands 37 New Labour Party 17, 179 New South Wales 124–125 New World 35, 36, 100 New Zealand 145–162; the achievement gap (TAG) 148–149; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 145–146; conquest of 145–146; curriculum differentiation 153–155; deficit thinking 149–166; early education 146–148; Education Act of 1867 146; ethnic demographic profile 148; higher education 160–162; IQ tests in 154; language 155–156; Māori students 2, 19; Mexican Americans 155; Nikau High School (NHS) 153–155; oppression 155; parents 157–160; population 148; school failure 155; students of color 153; teachers 150–153 Neyhart, T. K. 42 Nicaragua: colonization 101; economic crisis 101; population 101 Nicaraguans, in Costa Rica 100–105 Nienhuys, T. 141n19 Nieuw Zeeland see New Zealand Nigeria 244–249; the achievement gap (TAG) 245–246; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 245; conquest of 245; deficit thinking xxiv, 244, 246–249; devaluation of women 15; ethnic demographic profile 245; gender inequality 244, 246–248; population 245

Nikau High School (NHS), New Zealand 153–155 Nisbett, R. E. 13, 153 Nkrumah, K. 235 No Easy Walk to Freedom (Mandela) 235 Noguera, P. A. xxiv, 7 nomadic students 1 non-Aboriginal peoples 2, 70 non-Indigenous people, Australia 123 nonverbal communication 4 North America: GDP per capita xxiii; gross domestic product (GDP) xxiii North Atlantic Treaty Organization 199 Northern Nishnawbe Education Council 78 Norway 37 Nosek, B. A. xvin1–2 Notshulwana, V. 237, 242–243, 250n20 Nouwen, M. A. W. 201–202, 209n24, 209n33 Nova Scotia 71, 75 Nowell-Smith, G. 17 Nunes, T. 98 Nyberg, D. 22n28 Oakes, J. 5, 73, 114n7, 153 Ober, R. 126 objectivity xxi Ochoa, A. M. 55 Ockham’s razor see law of parsimony O’Connell, J. 193–194 Ogbu, J. U. 3, 20n2, 73 O’Gorman, E. 195 O’Halloran, M. 196 Okemakinde, T. 247–249 Olivos, E. M. 55 Oloo, J. A. 82–84 Olsen, M 101 Olssen, M. 154 Omoregie, N. 244–249 one-at-a-time discourse 240 Ontario 71 Ontario College of Teachers 78 Operation Headstart 17 oppression 7–8; Australia 123; deficit thinking model 15–17; Latin America 93; New Zealand 155; racism and 43 O’Regan, B. 159–160, 167n19, 167n28 Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development countries 70 Orientalism (Said) 14 Ornstein, A. 7 Osborne, J. W. 175

Index  271

Osterhammel, J. 148 Othering 14–15; Australia 121; Ireland 197 Our Nations’ Story 147–148 out-of-school children 217–218, 232 Outskirt School, Brazil 94–96 Owen, T. 78–79 Pacific Islanders 37, 148 Padrón, Y. N. 18 Pakeha 146–148, 150–151 Pakistan: illiterate men xxiii; illiterate women xxiii Pakistani parents 177 Pakistani students 174, 176 Pampallis, J. 238 Pan-Africanism 231 Pantoja Palacios, J. 107–109 paradigm shift 51 Pardo 94 parental involvement 50, 55–56; barriers to Pasifika parent/community involvement 158–159; gaps in the literature 157–158; perceptions of teachers 56–57; Peru 110; support home-school engagement 159; three-prong thematic overview 157 parents: African American 255; of African American 55; binarization 56; Canada 81–82; of color 11, 55; England 183–186; Ireland 198–199; of Latino/ Latina 55; marginalized 254–255; New Zealand 157–160; Nicaraguan 104; Peru 110–111; reporting to 159; South Africa 243–244; United States 55–57 Parker, L. xxvn3 Parkhill, F. 159–160, 167n19, 167n28 Parkin, A. 70, 88n11 Park School, Brazil 94–96 Pasifika 148–151 Pasifika parent/community involvement 158–159; communication barriers 159; cultural frameworks 158; first language needs 158; lack of confidence 158; limited economic resources 158–159 pass books, South Africa 234 Patel, V. 221–222 Pather, S. 181–182, 187n19, 195 Payne, R. K. 10, 21n16 Pearl, A. xxiv, 5–6, 8, 11–12, 17, 20n5, 21n19, 34, 89n31, 187n17, 194–195 Pega, F. 146, 166n6 Peller, G. xxvn2

perceptions: of Irish Traveller culture and students in Ireland 194–197; of school failure and success in Belgium 201–204 Perry, N. E. 150 personnel decisions 51 perspective: asset-based xxv; interdisciplinary xxii; theoretical 2–20 Peru 109–113; academic achievement 109; deficit thinking 110–113; economy 109; Indigenous peoples 109; parental involvement 110; parents 110–111; population 109; poverty 109; Quechua 111–113; students 109–110 Pheko, M. 231, 249n1 Phelan, S. 125 Philips, S. U. 5 Pianigiani, G. 192 Pickering, D. 44, 244 Pizarro, F. 111 Poland 37 polarization 15 Polk, J. K. 105 Pollack, T. M. 45, 58n14 polygenist 9 Polynesian students 151–152 poor and rich see rich and poor poor teacher quality 5, 7, 73 population: Africa 232; Asia 217; Australia 123; Belgium 199; Brazil 94; Canada 67–68; China 37, 190, 224; Costa Rica 101; England 173; Fiji 163; India 37, 219; Latin America 93; Latino/Latina 37; Mexico 105; New Zealand 148; Nicaragua 101; Nigeria 245; Peru 109; South Africa 235; United States 37–38 Portelli, J. P. xxi, 71–77, 85, 88n23–24 Porter, J. 69 postcolonialism and colonialism xxiv–xxv poverty: Asia 217; Brazil 97; India 219; Latin America 93; Peru 109; United States 97 precarios 104 prejudice xxiv Pre-natal Diagnostic Techniques Act in 1994 222 Preschool and Primary Assessment of Phonological Awareness (PIPA) 156 preservice teachers 42; color blindness 43; pedagogical knowledge 44; training 44; see also teachers Pretos 94

272 Index

Princess Grace Elementary, Canada 74–75 principals 48; access 51; antiracism leadership 80; detracking 51; dialogue 50; homework 51; parental involvement 50; personnel decisions 51; professional development 50; role in addressing racism in Canada 79; secondary school 49, 51, 79; strategies used in deficit thinking 50–51 Probyn, M. 236, 241 Proctor, H. 123–124 professional development 48, 50 Program for International Student Assessment (PISA) 70, 109 Provost, L. 149 Pryor, C. R. 89n31 pseudoscience: deficit thinking model 16–17; defined 8 public education, United States 11 Puerto Rican students: involuntary students 3; school failure 2 Punjabi 177 Purcell-Gates, V. 103–105, 114n23–24 Putonghua see Mandarin Chinese Pythagorean theorem 107 Qing Dynasty 223–224 quality of life 247 Quechua Academy 113 Quechuas 109; speakers 111–113 Quinn, T. 48 race/racism 44; Australia 126, 128; Canada 67, 79, 83; centrality xxi; in education xxii; hegemony 7; intersectionality xxi; nascent 9; oppression and 43; South Africa 234 Ramaswamy, G. 219 Rankine, J. 146, 166n6 Raphael, B. 121–122 Ratham, T. 220, 222–223, 227n14 rationalization 9, 161 Rawls, J. 48 reactionary behavior 46 Ready, D. 102 Reck, U. M. 42 reductionism 13 Reed, H. J. 99 Regalla, M. 101–103, 114n20, 114n22 Reid, J. 19, 160–162 Renaud, R. 78–79 reporting to parents 159

reproduction: cultural 7, 94; economic 6; social 7, 94; systemic inequality model (SIM) 6 resilience theory 46 resilient resistance 46 resistance theory 46 rich and poor: Australians xxii; Brazilians xxii Richwine, J. 10, 40, 58n10, 58n12 Rios-Aguílar, C. 55 Rist, R. C. 102 Rivera, H. H. 18 Robinson, Y. 182–183 Robson, B. 146 Roithmayr, D. 175–176 Rollock, N. 184–186 Rolstad, K. 20n4 Romanic, A. 66 Rose, D. 36 Rose, S. J. 39 Ross, L. 13, 153 rote learning 85–86 Rothstein, R. 6–7, 73 Rowley, C. D. 123 Roy, J. 76 Rozycki, E. G. 5 Rubie-Davis, C. 46, 150–151, 167n20, 254 Rubin, C. L. 57, 59n39 Ruck, M. D. 45, 58n18 Rushton, J. P. 21n12 Ryan, J. 69 Ryan, W. 12–13, 21n21 Said, E. 14, 21n25 Salvini, M. 192 Sampson, J. 196 Samu, T. W. 149 Samuel, J. 68 Sánchez, G. I. 20 Sandoval-García, C. 100–101 sanskara 19, 220–221 Satzewich, V. 67–69, 88n10 savages 66 Saxe, G. B. 99 Scanlan, M. xxvn9 Scheckle, E. 165, 243–244, 255 Scherman, V. 236–237 Scheurich, J. J. 8, 47–48, 58n22 Schissel, B. 71 Schliemann, A. D. 98–99 Schofield, J. W. 238

Index  273

scholars: systemic inequality model (SIM) 6; United States 8, 15 scholarships 248 Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) performance 38 school choice, South Africa 238–239 school counselor 154 school curriculum 249 school failure 1–2; African American 1–2; American Indian students 2, 4–5; Belgium 201–204; Brazil 96–97; Canada 70–71; communication process model 3–5; cultural-ecological model (CEM) 3; deficit thinking model 8–20; India 221; Ireland 198; Latino/Latina students 2, 47; marginalized students 4–5; Mexican American students 1–2; New Zealand 155; Puerto Rican 2; South Africa 233; systemic inequality model (SIM) 5–8; theoretical perspectives 2–20 school financing xxiv, 73 school holding power see dropouts schooling differentiation 94 Schooling in Capitalist America: Education Reform and the Contradictions of Economic Life (Bowles and Gintis) 6 school reform 7, 180–181 school segregation xxiv, 5, 73 science, defined 8 scientific evidence 9 Scotland 37 Scramble for Africa 231 secondary school 45; dropouts 2, 107–108, 164; enrollments 246; India 2; principals 49, 51, 79 segregation: of Black students 37; in education xxi self-defeating resistance 46 Sellwood, J. 132–133 sexism 7, 44 Shabanirad, E. 14 Shapka, J. 150 Sharma, M. 84–87, 89n31 Shehu, R. A. 15, 244–249, 250n30–31 Shelta 196 Shields, C. M. 49, 58n22, 71–76, 85 Shook, A. 206 Shultz, E. L. 42 Sikh 219 Silan, E. F. 218 Simon, J. 153–155

Simone, J. A. 49–51, 58n27, 58n29–30 Simons, H. D. 3 Simonton, D. K. 13 Singh, M. 15, 253 Singh, P. D. xv, 5, 15, 19, 220–221, 244, 253 Sino-Tibetian 219 Sirin, S. R. 38 Skrla, L. 47–48, 58n22 Slavin, R. E. 11 smallpox 35, 100 Smit, R. 242 Smith, L. T. 166n6 social Darwinism 124 social justice: commitment to xxi–xxii; curriculum 75 social reproduction theory 6–7, 94 social stratification 7 social violence xxiii sociological scholarship 11 Solano-Campos, A. 100–101 Solomon, R. P. xxi, 76–77, 79–80 Solórzano, D. G. xxi, xxi–xxii, xxvn3–4, 7–8, 12, 46, 194 South Africa 232–244; the achievement gap (TAG) 236–237; apartheid 234–235; Bantu Education Act of 1958 234; Black students 2, 233, 235, 242; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 233–234; conquest of 233–234; deficit thinking 238–244; ethnic demographic profile 235–236; higher education 242–243; language 233, 239–241; multiculturalism 240; parents 243–244; pass books in 234; population 235; racism 234; school choice 238–239; school failure 233; townships in 234; White students 2, 242 South Africa: The Peasant’s Revolt (Mbeki) 235 South American students, Canada 71 southern Georgia 36 Spaniards 100 Spanish 111–113 Speak of Freedom: A Statement of African Ideology (Nkrumah) 235 special education, England 181–183 special educational needs (SEN) 1, 181–183, 195 Special Education Units (SEU) 138–139 special interest groups 67 Spencer, H. 124

274 Index

Spillane, S. xi–xii Springfield Unified School District (SUSD) 52 standards-based school reform movement, England 180–181 Stannard, D. E. 3, 35–36 Starratt, R. 49 Staszak, J.-F. 14–15 Statistics Canada 68, 78, 88n13 Steenbeck, A. 66 Stefancic, J. xx, xxvn2 Stephens, F. B. 163 Sternberg, R. J. 98 Stevens, P. A. J. 199, 202–204 St. George, A. 151–153, 167n21 Stocking, G. W., Jr. 9 Stormfront 67 Strand, S. 181–182 street mathematics: Brazil 98–100; defined 98; formal test 99; informal test 99 Stromquist, N. P. xiii, 93–94, 96 students: Asian 175; bad kids/ troublemakers 72; Bangladeshi 174, 176; Canada 70–76; Chinese 175; Fijian 163–165; Indigenous 1, 10; Irish Travellers and 194–197; Māori 2, 19, 146–156, 160–162; Moroccan 199–201; Pakistani 174, 176; perceptions 201–204; Peru 109–110; Turkish 199–200; White British 181; see also Black students; involuntary students; White students students of color xxiii; academic disengagement 3; attitudes 42; behaviors 42; Canada 71, 73, 85; educability 19, 41, 45–46; education 36; genetic pathology model 10; hegemony 7; New Zealand 153; public school enrollment 41; quotidian teacher discourse about 45; school success 47; systemic discrimination 3; United States 19, 37, 41, 69 Suárez-Orozco, C. 101 Suárez-Orozco, M. 101 subtractive language 240 Sun, Hu. 224 superintendents 48, 52 support home-school engagement 159 Surland, R. xxv, 46 sustaining expectation effects 150 Suzuki, L. A. xxiii, 10, 38, 41, 69, 136, 154, 181, 253

Swadener, B. B. 12, 70 Swan, P. 121 Swartz, E. 43 Sweden 37 sword and plague 36 Sylheti 177 system, defined 5–6 systemic discrimination, students of color 3 systemic inequality analysis xxiv systemic inequality model (SIM) 5–8; comprehensiveness 6; configuration 5–7; criticism 8; hegemony 7; reproduction 6; resistance 7; scholars 6; strengths 8; system 5–6; widespread reform 7 Table Bay 233 Talbert-Johnson, C. 44 Taleni, L. F. 159–160, 167n19, 167n28 Tandl, K. 196 Taras, R. 190–192 Tasman, A. 145 Tate, W. F. xx, 7 Taylor, A. 20n3 Taylor, E. xx teacher(s): Aboriginal schools 135; antiracist approaches 177; Australia 127–130; Brazil 96–98; Canada 76–79; candidates in Canada 76–79; of color in Canada 76; Costa Rica 101–103; educability perceptions 45; England 176–178; expectations 45, 101–102, 150–151, 175; Fiji 165; Ireland 197–198; New Zealand 150–153; perceptions of parental involvement 56–57; professional development 48; quality xxiv, 73; racism in Belgium 201–204; training 248; United States 45–47 teacher education 254; Australia 130–132; India 222–223; United States 41–45 teacher-student conflict 4 temporal changes: deficit thinking model 17–18 Tenenbaum, H. R. 45, 58n18 Terman, L. M. 18–19, 22n27, 146–147 Terra Nullius 121–122 Terrill, M. M. 42 Tertiary Education Strategy (TES) 160–162 Test of Scholastic Abilities (TOSCA) 153–154

Index  275

theoretical perspectives 2–20 A Theory of Justice (Rawls) 48 Third International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS) 236–237 Thoko, M. xxii Thomas, K. xxvn2 Thomas, N. 163 Thomas, W. B. 22n31 Thompson, C. H. 20 three-prong thematic overview 157 threshold concept xi–xii Timmerman, C. 200, 209n30, 209n33 Timucan people 36 Tinkers see Irish Travellers Tisdall, S. 190, 192–193 Tobias, M. 146 Todorov, T. 21n5, 36 Torres, C. A. 7–8 Torres Straight Islanders 132 Tout, T. xxiv, 218 townships, in South Africa 234 transformational learning theory 54 transformational resistance 46 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, Mexico 105–106 Treaty of Waitangi 146, 161 Trent, S. 85 Tropman, J. E. 21n15 troublemakers 72 Truebridge, S. 46 Trump, D. 192–193 Tsung, L. 224–226, 227n19 tuberculosis 69 Tukur, S. 244 Turkish students 2, 199–200 tutors 159 Tyler, M. A. 253 typhoid fever 35 UK Independent Party 192 Ullucci, K. 42–43, 254 ultranationalism 191 unemployment: Africa 247; Australia 123; Canada 68; Europe 198 unhappy race 67; see also race/racism United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) 217 United Nations Population Fund 219 United States 33–57; the achievement gap (TAG) 38–39; achievement test performance 38; administrators 47–55;

African American 42; American Indian 2, 36–37, 68; autonomous students 3; Black students 41; Canadian Indian 36–37; colonialism and postcolonialism xxiv; colonization of 35–37; communication process model 3; conquest of 35–37; deficit thinking 12, 34–35, 39–57; dropouts 38; education 6; ethnic demographic profile 37–38; genetic pathology model 10, 40–41; grade retention 38; Graduate Record Examination (GRE) scores 38; hereditarianism 17; heterodoxy 19–20; immigrant students 3; income chasms xxiii; Indigenous peoples 36; involuntary students 3; Latino/Latina students 5, 46–47; Mexican American students 37; Mexican-origin immigrants 40; minorities 3; neohereditarianism 40–41; overview 33–35; parents 55–57; polygenist belief 9; population 37; poverty 97; public education 11; scholars 8, 15; scientific evidence 9; students of color 19, 37, 41, 69; teacher education 41–45; teachers 45–47; war with Mexico 36; White students 69; White teachers 42; xenophobia in 192 University of California at Santa Barbara 18 upper-caste students, India 2 urbanness 52 U.S. Government Accounting Office 38–39 Uy, P. S. 57, 59n39 Uyghur 224–226 Valencia, R. R. x–xiii, xv, xx, xxi, xxii, xxiv, xvin1–2, xxvn1, xxvn3, 1–3, 5–12, 14, 17–18, 20–22, 33–35, 37–41, 46, 51, 53–55, 57–59, 69, 71–73, 77, 85, 88–89, 101, 110, 115, 124, 126, 136, 138–140, 153–155, 158, 160, 167, 179, 181, 184, 191, 194–196, 198–202, 205–207, 209, 236, 239, 242, 250n24, 253–255 Valentine, C. A. 29 Valenzuela, A. 85 Valley, S. 238 Vandenbroucke, A. 201–202, 209n24, 209n33 Vanderwaeren, E. 200, 209n30, 209n33 Vanhanen, T. 10, 58n10 Van Houtte, M. 200, 256

276 Index

Vasquez Heilig, J. 196 verbal communication 4 The Vertical Mosaic: An Analysis of Social Class and Power in Canada (Porter) 69 Vibert, A. B. 71–76, 88n23–24 Villenas, S. xxvn3 Vincent, C. 184–186 visible minorities, Canada 68, 71 Waldfogel, J. 38 Wall, A. 106 War of Poverty program 17 Warren, M. R. 57, 59n39 Washington, D.C., Black high school 3 Waters, T. 47 Waxman, H. C. 18 Webber, D. 141n20 Wechsler 141n22 Weems, M. T. xxii, 48, 52–55 Weiner, E. 49 Weis, L. 7 Welner, K. G. 238 Western Hemisphere, Indigenous peoples 36 White, C. M. 38, 163–166, 195 White Aryan Resistance 67 White British students 181, 184 Whiteness 43 White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack (McIntosh) 76 White schools xxii White students xxiii; achievement chasm 1; Canada 71; compared with American Indian students 2; cranial capacity 9; England 175; hegemony 7; South Africa 2, 242; TAG 38; United States 69 White supremacists, Canada 67 White teachers: Canada 76; England 42; United States 42; see also teacher(s)

Wigglesworth, G. 132, 141n21 Williams, F. 3 Williams, J. K. 13, 41, 58n14 Willis, P. 94 Winne, P. H. 150 Woodcock, P. 148 Wooley, F. 68, 88n8 Woolfolk, A. 150 The World and Its People 147 World Bank 112, 232 World Bank Groups 21 Wotherspoon, T. 71 Wright, A. L. xi Wright, C. 177–178 Wright, D. 102 Wyckoff, J. 42 xenophobia 173; deficit thinking and 191; demonization 191; in Europe 191–193; in United States 192 Xhosa 241 Xia Dynasty 223 Xiao, H. 224 Xinjiang University 225 Yolngu 134–135 Yolngu Matha 135 York-Powell, F. xxiv, 218 Yosso, T. xxi–xxii, xxvn3, 7, 46 youth of color 1, 17 Yukon Territory in Canada 78 Yunupingu, B. 135 Zanoni, P. 199–201, 204–205, 209n33 Zeichner, K. 223 zeitgeist 9–10, 17 Zick, A. 190 Zirkel, S. 206, 209n35