Ghosts in the Schoolyard: Racism and School Closings on Chicago's South Side

“That's when I first started seeing ghosts. Not exciting ghosts— no literal apparitions, no translucent beings floating down the hallway. It was just a nagging presence, a thought as fleeting as it was sudden. There were so many other children here. I would see them in the auditorium–running where they weren't supposed to run, cracking jokes, resisting teachers trying to get them to hush, pulling each other aside to share a bag of chips or a whispered secret. I'd never known them, but that didn't change their having been there.” “For many black Chicagoans the ghosts are present in everyday life…stewards of lives marked by mourning: mourning those lost to the many forms of violence this country has invented to kill us. We mourn those killed by police; we mourn those killed directly or indirectly by the violence of hunger and desperation or the violence of poverty and poor health; we mourn those taken from us and imprisoned. And…we mourn those institutions, like our schools, that have helped shape our sense of who we are…A school closure can thus be a devastating event that leaves an indelible emotional aftermath," a constant reminder of the loss of life, like a tombstone. “In a way, ghost stories serve as an important counter story; a ghost story says something you thought was gone is still happening here; a ghost story says those who are dead will not be forgotten. Something, someone, is still here. We are still here, despite all attempts to eradicate us. This defies the dominant narrative of the city's powerful, who would prefer to position the destruction of black institutions as a necessary step toward beautification or marketability.” “A school is more than a school. A school is the site of a history and a pillar of black pride and a racist city. A school is a safe place to be. A school is a place where you find family. A school is a home. So when they come for your schools, they're coming for you. And after you're gone, they'd prefer you be forgotten. Mourning, then, is how we refute that erasure. It's a way to insist that we matter. It's a way to remember.”

Very close-to-home, as a teacher on the south side of Chicago

I’d like to preface this by saying I admire Eve L. Ewing so much. Her career is what I dreamt of when I was in college majoring in Sociology. This book is a scorching assessment of the failed Chicago Public School system under Mayor Daley’s administration. It is egregious that he closed down so many schools on the South and West side during his tenure. The part about the Dyett school hunger strike devastated me. It angers me that we live in the supposed greatest country of our time and yet we deprive children of a proper education because of the societal circumstances they were born into. There are no simple solutions to solve the economic disparity, racism, and overall inequality that Black and brown students in the CPS system face but at least this book gives context on how we got here.

A page turner. Easy to read and you won’t want to put it down.