NEW ORLEANS — “It doesn’t matter what I brought to the table in terms of preparation. In the eyes of some, I’m just gonna be ill-equipped.”
That sentiment, expressed by Denver Public Schools Superintendent Alex Marrero, sums up the double standards he says education leaders of color face regularly.
“Double standards are so, so, so real, and you all need to accept that,” Marrero told a packed session this month at the annual conference of AASA, The School Superintendents Association.
“Hopefully during our time, that shifts. But once you realize that’s the reality, you’ll be well-equipped to navigate the turbulent waters that, again, were not designed for us to succeed as scholars, much less leading organizations like ours,” said Marrero, who has led DPS since 2021 and is the district’s third superintendent since 2018.
Just 200 — or roughly 40% — of the nation’s 500 largest school districts, the superintendencies are held by leaders of color, according to 2024 data from ILO Group’s Superintendent Research Project. Furthermore, only 72 — or 14% — of those school superintendents are women of color.
During two March 7 AASA conference sessions, Black and Latino leaders from eight districts nationwide shared their challenges and experiences, as well as insights on what helped them reach their position — and what keeps them going. Here are three takeaways.
Identity matters
Martha Salazar-Zamora, superintendent of Texas’ Tomball Independent School District, demonstrated how she sometimes changes her speech depending on who she’s speaking with.
“I learned that, at times, I am Martha Salazar-Zamora, and there are times where I’m Martha Salazar-Zamora,” she said, dropping her accent the second time she spoke her name. “If you understand that, you understand that. And if you don’t, you maybe never will.”
Known as code-switching, this is the practice of adjusting one’s language, mannerisms or appearance to fit a social context or environment for the comfort of others or to achieve a desired outcome. And it’s something leaders of color might navigate, particularly if they’re the first non-White person to hold a role.
“I knew when I had to be who I had to be. I knew why I had to be, whether it was an interview, whether it was whatever it might be, an introduction,” said Salazar-Zamora.
That doesn’t mean, however, that a superintendent’s identity has to be left at the door. Avis Williams, who resigned as superintendent of Louisiana’s NOLA Public Schools in November, shared the benefit that comes with embracing the idea of having students of color see someone who looks like them.
“When I go to schools, I love it when little girls are like, ‘My hair is like yours.’ Yes, baby, it is,” said Williams. “Some of them will google me, and it’s like, ‘She wore Afro puffs!’”
These can seem like small details, but seeing a leader who looks like them conveys to students, “Anything you see that I have done, you can do that and more,” said Williams. “We have to make sure that we can bring our whole selves into the role in order to really live out that truth.”
As a superintendent in Oregon’s Gresham-Barlow School District from 2017 to 2021 , Katrise Perera was the only Black woman district leader in the state, she said. “In my second year, we had another Black superintendent, a male.”
One specific memory from that superintendency still resonates for her. Once a week, she would read to elementary school classes, and children could sit where they wanted. Eventually, her communications team pointed out to her that in most photos, students of color were sitting close to her in the front.
“They were gathering around me. I still get chills to this day,” said Perera, now superintendent of Texas’ Lancaster Independent School District.
“When it comes to kids, you’re gonna get all of me,” she concluded.
Relationships — and allies — are key
Who you know and the relationships you build can make the difference in climbing professional ladders. LaTonya Goffney, superintendent of Texas’ Aldine Independent School District, told another AASA session how support from White and male allies helped her rise to district leadership.
“It’s about time for men to pave the way for women to be able to do this job,” Goffney said.
Among the nation’s 500 largest school districts, just 30% were led by women, and only 14% are women of color, according to data released by ILO last year.
Goffney attained her first superintendency in 2008 in rural Coldspring, Texas. A middle school principal at the time, Goffney was about nine years into her career as an educator.
Goffney said a mentor who was a White man visited her middle school and said, “You need to apply.” This was followed by a local church pastor, also a White man, stopping by her school and encouraging her to apply.
Though the board initially had someone else in mind, Goffney said that these relationships — as well as those she built during the interview process — helped her get across to the board that as someone who grew up in the community, she understood it and would be ready on day one.
“I had people who believed in me — and again, didn’t look like me,” said Goffney.
A similar story held true five years later, when Goffney moved to the superintendency of Texas’ Lufkin Independent School District. When you’re doing great work, people call, she said, and another mentor who was a White man encouraged her to pursue the top spot in a larger district.
Her initial interview for Lufkin, which the district’s search firm had labeled just a “courtesy interview,” led to a second round, and eventually her hiring as the district’s first Black superintendent — a distinction Goffney has held in all three districts she has led.
“It’s important to be connected and be exposed,” said Goffney.
Engaging the community makes a difference
Getting into a top leadership position is one thing, but engaging the community and having them understand where you’re coming from is crucial for longevity, said speakers in both sessions.
Mark Bedell oversaw Kansas City Public Schools for six years before becoming superintendent of Maryland’s Anne Arundel County Public Schools in 2022. When he started at Kansas City in 2016, the system was in its 16th year of being unaccredited, he said, and the average tenure of the 27 superintendents before him was 1.8 years.
People told him the situation was so bad that he would be “run out” of the district in two years or would leave on his own, he said. But Bedell ended up being the school system’s longest tenured superintendent in over 50 years. And his team — several of whom are also now superintendents elsewhere, he said — ultimately restored accreditation to the district for the first time in 20 years.
“When I interviewed and did my first press conference in Kansas City, I told folks, ‘My job is to come here and help give some hope to a community that was completely hopeless,’” said Bedell. The community, he recounted, faced such systemic issues as racism, lack of affordable housing and violence.
“The permanence of hopelessness was like nothing I’d ever seen,” said Bedell.
“And I said, ‘But we’re going to give these people hope, because not only am I going to live in the city, I’m going to enroll my kids into this school district.’”
This, he said, let the community understand that he was committed to moving the district forward for their children, as well.
There are four types of individuals that superintendents hear from in any community, said Denver’s Marrero. They include those who know how to navigate the system, those with connections that can help them get a direct meeting, those who are elected or in positions of privilege they can leverage, and those who are “loud or obnoxious” enough to be heard.
While it requires little effort to hear from these groups and they shouldn’t be ignored, Marrero said it’s also crucial to hear from everyone else. “That parent who says, ‘I’m always invisible.’ Or that one who’s afraid to speak up, because if you speak up — especially during these times — you may get shipped out.”
It’s important to gather the wants and needs of those often unheard voices and weigh them equally with the others. Incorporating all those voices in your strategic planning, said Marrero, is “the ultimate cheat code.”
“What I’ve been able to prove to my community is that, one, I’m not afraid of — as the saying goes — taking one on the chin, and I’m not afraid of making tough decisions,” said Marrero.
