Opinion: Why America’s Schools Need More Black Male Educators — Like Me

I am what some call an education unicorn in America’s public schools: a Black male educator.

When I was a principal, over 200 Black and Brown boys saw me walking the halls of their elementary school every day. For many of them, I was one of the few Black male leaders they saw daily in positions of authority. That representation mattered. 

Those daily hallway interactions reminded me why representation in education is truly transformational. Unfortunately, it is also rare. The number of Black male educators in this country remains alarmingly low, and principals making hiring decisions must work strategically to reverse that trend.

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Nationwide, just 1.3% of U.S. public school teachers in 2020-21 were Black males, compared with 6.5% three years before. Amid widespread concern about the national teacher shortage, it is critically important to pay attention not only to how many educators schools recruit, but to who America’s students see standing in the front of the classroom. 

Why does it matter? The dropout rates from high school for Black male students after an encounter with a single Black male educator decreases by 39%, and their college aspirations increase by 19%. Another study shows that the graduation rate among Black students increased by 33% when they had a Black teacher between third and fifth grade. Representation is not a feel-good talking point. It is a measurable intervention.

Black boys have historically had lower academic outcomes than other demographics and drop out at higher rates in middle and high school. The research is clear: Culturally relevant, responsive teaching practices can ensure that Black boys stay connected to their school community and receive instruction that affirms their identity. But those practices are only as powerful as the educators who bring them to life.

Teachers who share aspects of their students’ experiences can build trust quickly, recognize coded language or cultural nuances others might miss and challenge harmful stereotypes simply by standing in positions of authority. Their presence disrupts deficit narratives. Children in the nation’s schools deserve to see examples of leadership, intellect and excellence that reflect who they are.

My journey as an educator began at Morehouse College, where I mentored young children on Saturdays. I quickly fell  in love with working with students. Many of the Black boys I tutored lacked foundational literacy and math skills that would give them access to higher education and, eventually, careers of their choice. They didn’t lack potential; they lacked access and urgency. It was clear to me that they had been robbed of a civil right — the right to a quality education. For me, this was a cause worth fighting for.

When I had the opportunity during my junior and senior years to participate in a summer teaching fellowship through Uncommon Schools in New York City, I jumped at the chance. I arrived at Uncommon Schools Excellence Boys in summer 2011. I never imagined my five-year plan would include leading a school, but a mentor at Uncommon Schools saw something in me that I didn’t.

The work is challenging, but also rewarding. When students start the school year reading below grade level and are caught up within a matter of weeks, I know I’m having an impact. My legacy will not be a title, such as principal or superintendent — it will be seeing those children graduate from college and lead fulfilling lives. And I know I am not alone. Across our network, many Black male educators are quietly changing trajectories every single day.

At Uncommon Schools, 12% of teachers are Black males — far above the national average. That did not happen by accident. It required intentional recruitment and intentional retention.

On. Feb. 6, I co-led the third Uncommon Male Educator Summit in Brooklyn, where more than 140 Black male teachers, deans of instruction, operations directors, and superintendents came together for a professional development and community-building. This was not just a networking event. We shared classroom strategies, discussed how to maintain high expectations without being automatically cast as disciplinarians and built the kind of professional brotherhood that strengthens retention. When educators feel supported, they stay. When they stay, students benefit from continuity, mentorship and stability.

Nationwide, though, Black males make up only 1.3% of educators. That’s a stark number. But the solutions are clear. 

First, school leaders need to work harder to recruit prospective Black male teachers in colleges, especially Historically Black Colleges and Universities, which already produce half of the Black educators in the country. Many of my colleagues are HBCU graduates who felt called to teaching because they wanted to bring Black excellence into classrooms.

Second, principals must invest in retention. Professional development designed for Black male educators to share experiences and build community is essential. As one colleague said, “this journey requires brotherhood.” Isolation drives attrition. Community drives commitment.

Third, school leaders should avoid automatically assigning disciplinarian roles to Black male educators. While we can and do set strong boundaries, our value extends far beyond behavior management. Research shows that Black male educators serve as powerful mentors and academic role models. They must be allowed to be instructional leaders, curriculum designers and culture builders — not just enforcers.

This conversation is not about exclusion. It is about expanding who stands at the front of America’s classrooms so all children see possibility reflected back at them.

I think about the hundreds of boys who saw me in the hallway each morning. For some, that daily interaction planted a seed — that leadership, scholarship and authority could look like them. That is not symbolic. It is life-altering.

It’s in the classroom where dreams take flight, and students can’t become what they can’t see. Black male students deserve to see someone like them, who inspires and leads. Only then will educators succeed in ensuring that Black boys soar academically and become the leaders of tomorrow.