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Shuttered Schools in the Black Metropolis: Race, History, and Discourse on Chicago’s South Side The Harvard community has made this article openly available. Please share how this access benefits you. Your story matters Citation Ewing, Eve L. 2016. Shuttered Schools in the Black Metropolis: Race, History, and Discourse on Chicago’s South Side. Doctoral dissertation, Harvard Graduate School of Education. Citable link http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:27112696 Terms of Use This article was downloaded from Harvard University’s DASH repository, and is made available under the terms and conditions applicable to Other Posted Material, as set forth at http:// nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:dash.current.terms-of- use#LAA Shuttered Schools in the Black Metropolis: Race, History, and Discourse on Chicago’s South Side Eve L. Ewing Dr. Sara Lawrence Lightfoot Dr. Roberto G. Gonzales Dr. William Julius Wilson A Thesis Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Education of Harvard University in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Education 2016 © 2016 Eve L. Ewing All Rights Reserved ii Contents Acknowledgments iii Introduction 1 Chapter 1: A Street in Bronzeville 6 Chapter 2: “I’m Begging You to Keep My Family Together” 51 Chapter 3: “Whose School? Our School! The Fight for Dyett 101 and an Embargoed Democracy Chapter 4: Something Left to Love: 150 Toward a Theory of Institutional Mourning Conclusion 192 References 195 Methodological Appendix 207 Notes 214 iii Acknowledgements This work would not have been possible without the emotional support, wise counsel, careful attention, and tireless encouragement of innumerable individuals. I extend my thanks first to my committee. My advisor and dedicated committee chair, Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot, who continually awes me as a model of masterful storytelling, attentive questioning, independent creativity, good humor and joy. From her, I have drawn lessons that I think will take years to understand, and I am ready and willing to put in the time. Roberto Gonzales has been a source of constant cheer, a generous problem-solver, a mentor with a “let’s go for it!” spirit that has gotten me through much uncertainty. William Julius Wilson has always challenged me to read more, write more, think harder, be clearer, and do so with boldness and bravery. Each of these three, in their way, has left their mark on this manuscript, and on me—not only in the scholarly lineage of the sources I cite or the theories I draw from, but in their way of being, which in all three cases is fierce, brilliant, and sometimes irreverent. For that, and for them, I am grateful. I have been blessed with a family that has always believed in me and supported me however they could. Thank you to my mother, Sylvia Ewing, and my father, Dean Ewing, for loving me unconditionally and constantly fretting that I work too hard (they are wrong), for taking my interests seriously and taking me to the library so often. My mother was especially supportive during the process of writing this dissertation; she didn’t know much about the details except that it was important to me, which made it important to her, and she was often a source of comfort when I was discouraged and a source of discipline when I was off-task. Thank you to my brother, Matthew, to John and iv Zara, to Mumsi and Grandad (who I think has read more of my writing over the years than any living person other than myself, and done so with undue care), to Sylvester, to Grandma and Grandpa, Jean-Luc, to all of my aunts and uncles, to Arlin (who asks a thousand questions and all of them are good), to Dylan (who I hope can forgive me for all the times I couldn’t play and had to work), to all of my cousins, and most especially to Leila, who can’t read this yet, but inspires so much of what I do. Thank you, with love, to my partner, Damon Jones, who endured a lot of office crashing, late nights, curious musings, frustrated tears, and even one or two requests for Stata assistance. He bribed me with a book of Jacob Lawrence paintings to get me to finish my first chapter, and that is only one of many reasons why he is the best. When I left Chicago for Boston, I was afraid that I would be alone. Instead, I have incredible friends here who have made this work feel like a team effort. They are funny, caring, smart, and know when to jump in with a helpful word, an idea, a joke, or a meal. Thank you Abena Mackall (example of all that is brilliant and discerning), Adrienne Keene (who made the way by walking so that others could have an easier path), Alyssa Liles-Amponsah (who is always next to me, laughing, even if we are a thousand miles apart), Amanda Torres (my fellow exiled Chicagoan, my fellow warrior poet, my sister), Amy Cheung (runner, fellow portraitist, and a woman wise enough to know what matters), Celia Gomez (confidante, an analyst as sharp in life as in research), Chris Buttimer (drum major for righteousness), Clint Smith (my comrade in joy), Daphne Penn (thoughtful, observant, and honest), Deepa Vasudevan (honest, caring, and bearer of silver linings), Erica Litke (who always knows what to do), Janine de Novais (whom I could thank for many, many, things, but most notably, she brought me to her house and v cooked me a steak when I was desperately sunk into my work with little hope of retrieval), Jonathan Wall (who told me that yes, I could finish this thing, and promptly ordered me Indian food), Laurence Ralph (my steadfast friend since day one, whom I trust infinitely), Lizzie Adelman (one of the most loving people I will ever meet), Lizzy Cooper Davis (who I think knows everything about life, especially that we can’t know everything), Maleka Donaldson-Gramling (who shines in word and deed), Matthew Shaw (the brave, the strong, the indefatigable), Meredyth Grange (beloved friend, hair savior, transcription fairy), Shauna Leung (sage, teacher, and president of the SRWC), Stephany Cuevas (who always knows how to make me smile and is generally a champion). Thank you to the writers in my life who advised me and consoled me without fail, who took turns telling me to push forward and to give myself a break: Fatimah Asghar, Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, Jayson Smith, Jermaine Spradley, Josie Duffy, Kiese Laymon, Kristiana Colón, Natalie Moore, Nate Marshall, Ross Gay, Vann Newkirk, and the Seven Scribes brigade. Wendy Angus, the faculty assistant to Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot, Roberto Gonzales, and other faculty with whom I have worked at HGSE, has been a caring, generous, and enthusiastic supporter who has done much to keep me on the straight and narrow during my time as a graduate student. Nothing is certain in this world except for death, taxes, and Wendy Angus. Thank you to all the people of Bronzeville, especially Anna Jones, Erana Jackson Taylor, Irene Robinson, Jawanza Malone, all of the Dyett hunger strikers, and all those in Chicago and beyond who supported them. Thank you to the colleagues who gave me feedback and listened to nascent ideas, vi encouraged me, mentored me, and provide models of how to unite love, justice, and rigor: Alan Mather, Bridget Terry Long, Carla Shedd, Elise LaRose, Hubert Morgan, Jasson Perez, John B. Diamond, John Willett, Jonathan Rosa, Michael Dumas, Rick Weissbourd, and Steve Seidel. Special thanks to Bill Ayers and Dave Stovall for always embodying the beautiful struggle. Thank you to all the members of the Association of Black Sociologists and of the REMI working group. Thank you to my students at Harvard and Wellesley for your spirited hard work and your patience with me. Thank you to Sarah Hainds and everyone at the Chicago Teachers Union, especially the research team. Thank you to Bradford Hunt, who provided generous assistance with Chapter 1. And although I have thanked them already, I have to say thank you again to Abena Mackall, Jermaine Spradley, Laurence Ralph, and Michael Dumas for reading drafts of Chapters 1 and 2. Thank you to Anne Heminger and Damon Jones for helping me obtain elusive population data. Thank you to everyone at Pershing West Middle School, especially Cheryl Watkins, who saw me in line at the Chicago Public Schools job fair and for some reason felt instinctively that I could be a good teacher. Thank you to all of my students, who are still my babies even as they are grown up and tall and have babies of their own. There are hundreds of people who played a huge role in the completion of this work. These individuals cheered me on, asked me great questions, shared my writings, gave me a sounding board for ideas and reflections on the nature of the writing process, supported me when I felt discouraged or frustrated, wished me luck as I approached challenges, laughed at my bad jokes, sent me links and recommended readings, and celebrated my success. When I completed a draft of my dissertation, many of them told vii me that they exhaled heavily, or called out in joy, or teared up upon hearing the news— because they were proud and felt invested in my work, and were with me as I was striving to complete it. These people—the majority of whom I will never meet in person—are members of an ad hoc community on the much adored and maligned social media platform Twitter. They have been “followers,” friends, strangers, comrades, and everything in between.