It is a fact of life that some businesses experience a mass exodus of customers. Sometimes that’s due to poor products or service. Other times it’s due to forces that are beyond their control. Some of them limp along for a few years; most simply go out of business. But what about when that “business” is a public school system?
For more than a century, the Indianapolis Public School (IPS) system was predominantly white. At its peak, IPS boasted well over 100,000 students. However, “white flight,” combined with judicial action, led to substantial demographic changes — and substantially lower enrollment. In 1971 federal judge S. Hugh Dillin found that IPS had engaged in decades-long de jure racial segregation. Two years later, one-way busing began — meaning that Black IPS students were sent to surrounding townships. Crucially, white students were not bused into IPS; they remained in the townships unless their families moved into the district.
This practice was formally halted in 1998. Today, with roughly 30,000 students, IPS is substantially smaller than it once was. Depending on what sources you believe, it’s no longer the state’s largest district. (That distinction might belong to Fort Wayne Community Schools.)
Having been reared on the city’s east side, I attended IPS schools until I entered sixth grade. At that point, I was bused to nearly all-white Perry Township on the city’s south side. The ride was 50 minutes on a good day. During winter it could easily take more than an hour — not counting the extended wait for the bus to arrive.
Though there were some very tough days, I don’t necessarily regret this experience. I have deep, lifelong friendships with people of all races. Still, it’s impossible to say whether my Black classmates and I (or the thousands of other kids who were bused) would have been better off academically, socially and emotionally had we stayed in IPS.
There is no doubt that IPS students have suffered in many ways over the decades, but that was predictable given the social and economic upheaval that has taken place. And, to be sure, IPS has had many missteps over the years. Some of its superintendents have been grossly ineffective. Some have had a bloated administrative staff. But it’s far from the only school system about which such complaints could be made. The difference is that most IPS students are Black. This means that its mistakes are magnified, its successes are minimized, and its legitimate struggles are dismissed.
IPS Superintendent Dr. Aleesia Johnson recently proposed an $823.6 million plan called “Rebuilding Stronger.” The board of commissioners approved the first of two parts of the plan; they are likely to approve the second part in short order.
Rebuilding Stronger, which includes closing some schools, does not please everybody; no plan would. Frankly, there are components that I would change. But I think that it’s important to give Dr. Johnson — and the plan — a chance. If voters approve the plan next May, those who own a median-priced home in the district would have about a $6 increase in property taxes.
In the spirit of disclosure, Dr. Johnson is a colleague and friend of mine. I wish nothing more than to see her succeed. She is a conscientious and dedicated public servant. Of course, most people believe that they could do her job better than she does. I am not one of them.
Sadly, volitional amnesia causes many of us to ignore that racial discrimination in employment, lending and housing is the key antecedent for the situation in which IPS finds itself. Indianapolis has a long and sordid history of (1) relegating Blacks to jobs that pay lower wages than whites, (2) banks refusing to give mortgages to the relatively few Blacks who could afford to live in more upscale neighborhoods, and (3) restrictive covenants that kept Blacks out of white neighborhoods. And when redlining and restrictive covenants weren’t enough, whites often resorted to domestic terrorism. Even “sundown towns” are still a thing here. In short, IPS’ reality (and that of most of our city’s Black residents) isn’t accidental; it’s intentional.
The word “rebuilding” often has a negative connotation. Either something has been damaged and needs to be built back up, or something is subpar and needs to be demolished and started from scratch. Either way, the effort to rebuild is a recognition that things are not the way they should be. The question is whether we are willing to locate and deploy the right building blocks. Whether those are in place remains to be seen.
Larry Smith is a community leader. The views expressed are his own. Contact him at larry@leaf-llc.com.
