Eve L. EwingGhosts in the Schoolyard

As a Chicagoan who lived through the recent history Ewing recounts, I appreciated her ability to reframe the arguments about school closures. Those on the outside (white, middle class, North Side) saw the Mayor and CEO of CPS frame these decisions as an effort to use data to drive decisions to benefit students. Yet Ewing reframes this argument, more compellingly than most I’ve read, to reveal how the data, and the specific data selected, hides the historical context and other measures of success that would have led to different conclusions about whether these schools should be closed. When read with Kendi’s “How to Be Anti-Racist”, Ewing’s perspective enhances one’s understanding of the structural racism and history that white supremacy largely ignores when making data-driven decisions.

Ewing is a poet and a playwright and has a Harvard Ph.D. She writes like a dream. She tells the story of Rahm Emanuel's brutal decision to close 50 public schools in one day, all in the African-American community. She asks, why did parents, students, grandparents and teachers fight to keep their so-called "failing school" open? Answer: schools were a deeply ingrained part of families' lives. Killing them killed a sense of identity. To understand the terrible cost of "reform," read this book. No one benefits except real estate developers. Certainly not students.

I was drawn to this book after listening to an interview with the author on Chicago’s NPR affiliate. The subject matter is particularly poignant for me in that I am a product of the Bronzeville neighborhood and attended elementary (Mollison) and high school (Dunbar) in the community from 1972 through 1984. Similar to the stories shared by the residents interviewed for the book, all seven of my siblings attended the same elementary school as well as a few of my nieces and nephews before the family left the neighborhood. I am both witness to and survivor of the dueling realities Ewing sets forth in her deftly astute analysis of the historical conditions and political factors that led to the 2013 school closings.Ghost in the Schoolyard is both factual analysis and social commentary. It lays bare the effect that the school closings had and continues to have on the community and its people. Ewing demonstrates how a history of racial segregation and economic discrimination created the conditions that motivated a currently jailed (bribery and corruption) school superintendent and inept mayor (he was smart enough not to run for re-election) to recklessly disregard the views and feelings of their constituencies. I’m not only highly recommending this book but I’ve passed it on and given copies to others in hopes that knowing the historical background of this atrocity may prevent it from being repeated. This text should be required reading for administrators, politicians and community leaders who will inevitability have to grapple with future school closings; perhaps within these pages a new approach will be gleaned, a different set of metrics analyzed, a heightened sensitivity to the voices and lives of the people applied. But I’m skeptical. The systemic racism that created Bronzeville and led to the ghettoization of the neighborhood via its housing projects is alive, thriving and shaping Chicago’s south and west suburbs. Where did the displaced residents of the CHA projects land? How are the school systems managing the enrollment increases? Only time will tell; best read this treasure and get prepared.

This study offers a fascinating insight into the current state of social sciences research.Social sciences researchers can begin with their conclusion and work backwards from there, selecting data that support their thesis and ignoring data that detract. In addition, they don’t need to define the constructs they work with, nor do they need to worry about falsifiability or whether their theories can by universally applied.In Ewing’s case, the ‘lived experiences’ of her informants is sufficient evidence claims. One informant speaking at a public hearing, for example, likens an impending school closure to a slave auction, because both resulted in separating families. The testimony proves racism because that’s how the informant felt. Fortunately for Ewing, there was no need to undertake any comparison between the Bronzeville closings and those at other school districts across the country.Ewing’s definition of racism is amorphous to say the least. We learn that the racism responsible for the school closures is different from the Jim Crow variety of racism, but beyond that, we must be content with her analogies to wind up toys and merry-go-rounds. In fairness, she cites in her appendix CR theorist Dana-Ain Davis, who conceptualizes racism as the de facto cause of all social ills. According to Davis, any attempt to ascribe these problems to other factors falls into the category of ‘deflection’ which is itself a form of racism (One wonders what the point of conducting a study is if the conclusion is always preordained).Ordinarily, I’d give a book like this two stars. One because the prose is intelligible, and another because it offers some insight into a situation I knew nothing about. I had to add one star, however, as tribute to the author’s self-assuredness, and two more because the work may afford future historiographers crucial insight into our times.

This was an excellent book. The author details why the closing of schools in predominantly black neighborhoods in Chicago was not just racist but harmful. I lived on Chicago’s southside and witnessed the abject poverty and squalid conditions that many people lived in.The school closings were just another assault on the most marginalized in Chicago. Schools are an important part of a community.