DEI in Action: Making Sure Every Student Can Participate
Recently I took part in the Lakers for Love candidate forum, where we were asked what diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) mean to us and what role they should play in supporting all PLSAS students.
These terms are about as loaded as a baked potato, but I appreciated the question. Divisive as they may be right now, it's still important to identify what is actually happening when we use them. A small campaign blog probably won't change many minds, but explaining my perspective and how it shapes my decisions is part of the job.
For me, DEI equals access. All of us want to be part of our communities, whether that's a city, neighborhood, school, church, workplace, or sporting event. Sometimes the people draw us in, and sometimes it's the space itself. Either way, what makes these places special is the chance to connect with others and share experiences.
Unfortunately, the same things that make these places wonderful can also make them unwelcoming. That happens for many reasons, but I want to focus on one: access. Access shows up in schools in plenty of ways, but one example is especially easy to understand, and it exists right here in our district.
The tricky thing about access is that we often think we can see whether someone has it. If someone is present, they must have access. How else would they be there?
Until recently, that was the standard for the playgrounds at our elementary schools. Were all the kids near the playground? If so, everyone had equal access.
Then the students started asking questions. Why couldn't some of their classmates play with them? Until then, nobody had asked, "Can every kid who's here actually use this equipment?" The adults had to give the only honest answer: when the playground was built, those children's needs weren't considered. Nobody had thought about accessibility.
And because they're kids, they did the thing that is so wonderful and so frustrating at the same time.
They asked why.
Why weren't their friends’ needs included when the playground was designed?
That's diversity, equity, and inclusion in action. It's a simple reframe that shifts the entire conversation in a new and fascinating direction.
It's also exactly what our strategic plan asks for. Academic Excellence means students receive challenging, rigorous, and relevant instruction for — ready for this? — their unique learning needs.
Every Buddy’s Playground isn’t the only example that I can cite either. I see this same approach play out with my own kids.
My twin boys could not be more different, both in how they look and in how they learn. As I've shared before, one of my sons has been diagnosed with autism, ADHD, and anxiety disorder and qualifies for special education services through our district.
But those diagnoses are only a small part of who he is. He is smart, capable, creative, and has so many strengths to share. Like all of us, he learns best when the environment and supports around him match what he needs.
Sometimes that means extra support with focus, organization, or navigating the school day. Those supports don't change who he is or lower expectations for him. They give him the tools to fully participate, learn alongside his peers, and show what he can do.
My other son knew the names and order of the planets at age two. He loves learning and retains information like you wouldn't believe. His kindergarten teacher quickly realized she needed to find ways to challenge him. After kindergarten sight words and reading, he came home with first grade material. Once he showed he'd mastered counting and simple math, he moved on to multiplication and division.
DEI isn't something that just happens, and it isn't a basis for curriculum. It's the intentional questions and choices our teachers and staff make throughout the day. It's giving every student the chance to contribute and collaborate with their peers in a way that helps them succeed.
And the great thing about DEI? You don't have to give anything up to get it. The Every Buddy's Playground initiative didn't say "that slide has gotta go" or "so long, monkey bars!"
It's not prioritizing one kid over another or taking resources from one group to give to another. It's looking at something and asking: how do we make sure everyone can not only participate, but participate to the best of their ability?
Do we really want anything else?