The Questions we Didn’t Ask

If an equity meeting feels easy, we are not doing it right. If it feels comfortable for everyone in the room, we are not doing it right.

Before joining the equity team in the elementary school where I work, I believed equity work would be about slowing down and examining decisions that may seem neutral on the surface but carry real consequences for students and families. I expected it to require us to notice who is centered, who is assumed, and who is quietly left out.

At my very first equity meeting as a teacher, the group discussed matching t-shirts for every student to wear on the same day. Each shirt would cost about ten dollars. Much of the conversation focused on logistics. How to communicate with families. How to collect money. How to make it happen smoothly.

I remember sitting there stunned.

I had come open and hopeful. I even had a short list of ideas tucked into my notebook, in case there was space to contribute. I was ready to talk about equity in ways that go deeper. About representation. About belonging. About discipline patterns that deserve our attention. But that is not what happened.

Asking families to purchase clothing in order for their child to fully participate in a school community moment is the opposite of equity. Even when the intention is unity or school pride, the impact can be exclusion, pressure, or quiet harm. Some families cannot afford it. Some may not feel comfortable saying no. Some students will be visibly marked as different through no fault of their own.

That conversation was the moment I realized how much work there is still to do. Not because of bad intentions, but because equity work requires clarity and shared purpose. Without that, even well-meaning groups can miss opportunities to ask deeper questions.

It made me wonder whether we truly have an equity group yet, or whether we are still building toward one. Whether we have the shared understanding and tools needed to examine decisions through an equity lens, rather than moving quickly to logistics and implementation. That realization stayed with me.

Good intentions matter, but they are not enough. I believe an equity meeting should be a space that returns again and again to hard questions. Who does this decision benefit most? Who might it exclude, burden, or silence? What assumptions are we making about families’ time, money, language, or access? Whose comfort are we prioritizing? Who is not in the room when this decision is made? What will this feel like for the student with the least power in our system?

If we are not asking these questions, we are not doing equity work, even if the outcome feels positive to many of us. Equity is not about calling people out or assigning blame. Most educators are trying. Most decisions are made with care. But equity requires us to keep going. It asks us to push past what feels reasonable or familiar and ask whether our choices truly align with our values. It asks us to see beyond ourselves.

I believe equity meetings should be thoughtful, sometimes uncomfortable, and deeply reflective. Not because we are doing something wrong, but because we are taking the responsibility seriously. If it feels easy, we have not gone far enough. If it feels comfortable for everyone, someone is likely being missed. This is the work, and we can do better together.