BETWEEN ENTRENCHED INEQUITIES AND DREAMS FOR BETTER: A RESEARCH-PRACTICE PARTNERSHIP ORIGIN STORY
Every research-practice partnership (RPP) has an origin story. Some start in response to a call from a school district facing an entrenched data challenge. Another might launch when a nonprofit contacts a local university, seeking support to tackle an education-related issue. Other RPPs are born in the hallowed halls of academia, in response to a funding opportunity or aligned with a pre-established research agenda. Each origin story is couched between a specific history and a desired future. As the Justice Scholars Institute (JSI) celebrates 10 years of serving communities in Pittsburgh and launches our NNERPP membership, the moment is apt to reflect on the history we respond to, engage with, and build upon. We represent an example of an RPP that did not start out to conduct research but evolved into its current form –which, importantly, includes an intentional prioritization of teacher collaboration as an equitable approach to the work– in response to a long history of educational inequity in our context.
History is of great consequence in our present lived realities. JSI’s history is inseparable from racial inequities that foreclose opportunity and limit students’ future pathways. John Diamond reflects on how institutional histories of racialized oppression color the existence of any RPP, and need to be named and explored. In our city, the effects of racial oppression run deep, as Pittsburgh has been called one of the cities with the most inequities for Black residents. Even with that backdrop of entrenched inequities, the history of this RPP is also linked to the dreams of ancestors who envisioned a better future for Black Pittsburgh and strongly believed in education's potential to create pathways to that future.
Research-practice partnerships now represent an established approach to addressing inequities, but such engagements existed long before we had this terminology (see Vetter et al., 2022). From my undergraduate research experiences through my doctoral training, I witnessed many Black faculty intentionally engage their research in Black spaces, out of a commitment to ensuring that our communities benefit from the knowledge, resources, and networks available in higher education. In direct contrast to the institutional history of harm that universities have sometimes inflicted on Black communities, Black scholars have often formed partnerships designed to uplift and meaningfully engage people with specified needs. Vakil et al. explore this reality in a writing on politicized trust, which facilitates scholars of color’s engagement with communities of color. In the 1970s, Dr. Barbara Sizemore—a scholar, leader, and activist—was a community-engaged scholar who fought for equity and produced scholarship grounded in her leadership and practice. This work in Pittsburgh stands on her shoulders; therefore, I must start this reflection with herstory.
HERSTORY: BARBARA SIZEMORE
Barbara Sizemore is one of many underappreciated scholars who were embedded in community-based approaches similar to the equitable RPP approaches we now laud. Before she entered academia, she was a formidable leader, guiding school- and community-based initiatives in Chicago. In 1969, she played what we would now call a “broker” role as director of the Woodland Experimental Schools Project, a research-practice project between the University of Chicago, Chicago Public Schools, and the Woodlawn community. In that role, she fought for community control and was exposed to the university's social capital. This was all a prelude to how she would engage as a professor years later.
After leaving Chicago, Dr. Sizemore became the first Black woman to lead a major school district when she was hired as superintendent of DC Public Schools in 1973. By many accounts, her leadership was highly polarizing. She was accustomed to controversy and did not back down in the face of opposition. At her core, Barbara Sizemore was extraordinarily principled, with strong convictions that sometimes upset people. However, she garnered more favor with community members than with those in power, regardless of the leaders’ race. After her DC stint, she moved to Pittsburgh, where she eventually became a professor and interim chair of the Department of Black Community, Research and Education at the University of Pittsburgh. In a faculty position, her community engagement grew through her connections at a university, where she maintained a research agenda on high achievement among Black students and the types of schools that support it. Her keen focus on Black achievement was at odds with narratives of Black inferiority that were pervasive in much of the scholarship in education.
As reflected in her memoir, Walking in Circles: The Black Struggle for School Reform, Dr. Sizemore held an unwavering conviction about the ability of Black children to succeed, and she built a reputation as a fierce advocate for Black communities. She came to Pittsburgh unafraid to fight for what she believed was possible and situated herself not just as an academic but as a community advocate. She continued deep and meaningful community engagement, serving as a founding member of the Advocates for African American Students in the Pittsburgh Public Schools. This group filed a complaint against the Pittsburgh Public Schools in 1992 over the systematic denial of opportunity for Black students, in violation of the Pennsylvania Human Relations Act. Despite multiple conciliation agreements, the complaint is still ongoing over three decades later. And unfortunately, Pittsburgh schools still show persistent inequities for students. This is due to numerous factors, most notably the systemic challenges detailed in Dr. Sizemore’s book. It is in this context of still unequal schooling experiences and inequitable opportunities for Black students that the Justice Scholars Institute’s story begins.
STARTING JSI AS AN ADVOCATE, NOT A RESEARCHER
The seeds of this RPP were planted in the Spring of 2016, when I was working at the University of Pittsburgh as part of an initiative to support the Homewood neighborhood. John Wallace, the faculty member with whom I worked, was one of many Black, community-engaged scholars who shaped my scholarly predisposition, which converges with my own enduring care for Black communities and a desire to see better opportunities for us. Though I was trained as a researcher and fresh off earning my Ph.D., I entered Westinghouse Academy not as a researcher but as an education advocate seeking opportunities to support enhanced teaching and learning. Aligned with Tuck’s notion of “suspending damage,” I was more interested in what the people in the school wanted for themselves. Though the school had a reputation borne out of a long history of disinvestment from the community, I was not there to document that damage. I was interested in how I could leverage the university's resources to bring the aspirations of young people in this space to fruition.
As a community partner, I spent time in hallways and the library, at community events, and was occasionally invited to engage students in classrooms. As a former high school teacher in Detroit, I was very comfortable in that space and enjoyed the opportunity to connect with students. Sometimes I was able to move to a facilitator role, helping me gauge students’ experiences and what they wanted from their education but were not receiving. The most memorable day was when I was invited to hang out with a group of students who had already passed the state exams and were essentially quarantined in a back room while the rest of the student body took the tests. My conversation with those students was eye-opening. Though I entered with an idea about what a dual enrollment opportunity could do for these students, the conversation made it clear that students: (1) felt like they were not being challenged and really desired advanced learning opportunities, and (2) were irritated with the fact that a school in a neighboring community, in the same district, had a plethora of advanced course offerings that these students felt would never be offered to them.
At that time, Westinghouse had no dual-enrollment opportunities. Arguably, the school had very few opportunities to provide students with learning experiences that would adequately prepare them to succeed in postsecondary education. It was no wonder that very few students who entered that school would earn any postsecondary credentials. The data I looked at showed that only 6% of 9th graders would graduate with a 2- or 4-year degree within 6 years of high school graduation. It was clear to me that a majority of students in the building were intelligent and capable, and could enter professions that require postsecondary education. Professions they desired to pursue. As I walked through the school's lively halls, decorated with Black heroes from times past, I felt as if something had been stolen from this generation of students, and no one had warned them of an uncertain fate, dealt to them by virtue of their race and zip code.
But the students in that back room were very aware. That other school, which the students consistently referred to, sees the majority of its graduates earn a postsecondary credential. Unsurprisingly, this school, which serves an adjacent predominantly white, higher-income neighborhood, offers a wide range of advanced course options – and the disparity has now been documented. However, at that time, the Westinghouse students’ keen awareness of what happened at the other school was surprising, given how far apart their worlds seemed to me, as a newcomer to the city. Yet, their incitement by the inequities was not surprising. From a developmental standpoint, adolescence is a period of heightened awareness of injustice, unfairness, and inequity. The young people were pissed and unapologetic about how they felt. Forgotten and overlooked. They were Black youth in an economically marginalized neighborhood, very much aware of their educational marginalization within the context of an urban, racially diverse but segregated school district. They were looking for justice. However, the students did not all see themselves as scholars, through no fault of their own. The messages they received from the systemic structures of their school district told them they weren’t worthy of the learning opportunities that could lead them on a college pathway.
These realities led to the creation of the Justice Scholars Institute (JSI), an intentional effort to support schools serving Black students in Pittsburgh and to help students successfully transition into postsecondary education opportunities through the provision of advanced course experiences. When JSI began during the fall of the following school year, I worked very closely with a qualified high school teacher to implement a Pitt College in High School (CHS) course, which we titled, Introduction to Social Justice. The course represented the very first School of Social Work CHS course offered in our state. Mirroring the content of the university’s undergraduate introductory social work course, this flagship JSI course was designed to train young people to advocate for marginalized populations. Our first class had 13 students with room in their schedules because they had passed state tests and did not require any remediation courses. Most of these were the same kids I sat with in that back room the previous school year. A year after we completed that first class, I had moved to a home two blocks from the school. I was actively engaged in the school community and the broader neighborhood, while working in a community-facing position at the university. At this point, with the active support of Pitt’s College in High School office, the program began to expand as I worked closely with a small group of teachers to design a college-preparation experience anchored in dual-enrollment classes and tailored to the school’s and community's specific needs.
TEACHERS AS CENTRAL COLLABORATORS IN OUR RPP
Aligned with a co-designed, co-delivered, and co-validated partnership approach, I intentionally invited the teachers and counselors to think and plan with me, as we crafted the program policies and practices in those initial years. In years 2 and 3, we met almost weekly as we planned experiences that would best position students to take full advantage of the CHS courses and to leverage the partnership with the university to advance postsecondary possibilities. My experience as a teacher convinced me of the role of teachers in shaping students' learning experiences, and I knew that any program had to center the adults who work most closely with students. However, working directly with teachers was also a practical choice. Principal leadership changed five times during the program's first four years. Some individuals within the school district did not provide support for our efforts and even discouraged Pitt from partnering with the school. I was asked to consider working with a different school serving a different student population. Ultimately, no one from the district stopped us, but it was clear that any co-designed program would prioritize the input of those on the ground who worked closely with students and cared about their futures. Systemic injustices, historic and enduring, set the context for the inequitable educational experiences that students endured. Maybe a novel approach, centering students’ educational potentialities and led by those who witnessed it most proximally, could be a way to push back against the inequities.
In JSI’s efforts to redress the harm, I’ve played the role of a boundary spanner, navigating the school district office, calls with principals, teacher meetings, university policies, and research. One of our earlier program efforts focused on expanding our course offerings to include the science and math courses necessary to support students’ potential pathways into the health profession. This significant local industry sorely lacks Black, homegrown professionals. We attempted to onboard a CHS biology course as our initial STEM-connected advanced course offering at the school. We coordinated efforts to bring together the university instructor of record, our CHS counterparts, the principal, our partner teachers, and the potential biology teacher. Unfortunately, in that meeting, we heard a very clear message from the prospective teacher: these kids cannot succeed in that course. Messages about the incapability of Black learners are pervasive and often delivered matter-of-factly, as if they were common sense. In other words, deficit belief often passes as neutral truths. Like Dr. Sizemore, I firmly believe that Black children can succeed as learners if given the right conditions. This teacher did not hold that belief, which disqualified her from working with our partnership. That experience led us to define the types of teachers who would be effective co-conspirators in this unique and strategic dual-enrollment partnership. It also led to the development of a community of practice that would eventually identify and support like-minded teachers at other schools similar to Westinghouse.
EXTENDING OUR WORK TO A TEACHER-FOCUSED RESEARCH-PRACTICE PARTNERSHIP
Our research focus coalesced after a colleague and I competed in an internal funding competition that included a research pitch. By that time, I had moved into a faculty position at the university, and was grateful for the opportunity to pursue a co-designed research agenda that could impact my own neighborhood and other similarly situated communities in Pittsburgh. Ultimately, we were awarded a large grant from the University of Pittsburgh Office of the Chancellor to scale our work. We began exploring the role of teachers in supporting Black students’ postsecondary pathways and worked with our teachers to envision a sustainable teacher partnership model. Fortuitously, around the same time, the school district reached out with a request that we bring the program to additional schools. In those conversations with the district leaders, we were very clear about the schools where we would operate – the historically underserved schools in communities of color. In 2021, after expanding to serve three schools, we officially launched our JSI Teacher Collective. In this space, we are exploring a problem of practice related to inequitable postsecondary pathways for Black students in Pittsburgh. Teachers have conducted interviews with students and engaged in systems analysis to understand the roles of the district, schools, classrooms, and students’ lived realities in contributing to inequities in students’ postsecondary pathways. We also designed an internal teacher observation tool. Our community of practice has included retired educators, retired university faculty, community members, college students, and university staff. But it has always centered and prioritized our CHS teachers, who we believe play a powerful role in students’ pathways and are central to our partnership model.
Now sitting at the ten-year milestone, we have grown from humble beginnings with 13 students in one class, serving one school, to a formidable force against the district-wide inequities. In our 10th year, we enrolled 151 students from three schools in 16 distinct Pitt College in High School courses. Our Teacher Collective included fourteen teachers, with courses ranging from African American literature to introduction to leadership theories to statistics. Oh, and we also had the Pitt CHS biology courses in two different schools. The build has not been without difficulty and controversy. But it has been worth it for the students who have benefited from our efforts over the past 10 years. I refer to our group of teachers as the engine behind this effort. In a purpose-driven, equity-focused building process, the right people will show up to lend their best efforts to a cause worth supporting – the livelihood of our students. Students who would not otherwise have been able to take a credit-bearing course in their high school. Students who deserve a shot at a desired, professional career, just like the ones all of us want for our own children. Since we began, over 500 students have accumulated thousands of credits through JSI, at no cost to their families. This is an equitable approach that allows access for communities that have lacked such opportunities in the past.
IN CONCLUSION
This is the JSI origin story, and we are fortunate to follow in the footsteps of Dr. Barbara Sizemore. Like her and many other community-engaged, Black scholars, I did not step foot in a school to develop an equity-focused research-practice partnership. I showed up to serve my community, hoping to help students see their own aspirations come to pass, and I have been fortunate to have the university's resources and backing in my efforts. Though this effort has always been about the students’ desires, the University of Pittsburgh has benefitted as well. We have started to see a steady stream of students gain admission to our Pitt campus – something that was not the case prior to our efforts. Despite present headwinds and distinct challenges that seem to arise at every step of the way, all of us, as advocates, thinkers, and change agents, should remain committed to the most marginalized young people and to their communities. They matter, and their lives are worth our most thoughtful and persistent efforts towards the better that we all imagine.
Esohe Osai is Assistant Professor and Director of the Justice Scholars Institute at the University of Pittsburgh.
Suggested citation: Osai, E. (2026). Between Entrenched Inequities and Dreams for Better: A Research-Practice Partnership Origin Story. NNERPP Extra 8(4), pages 15-23. https://doi.org/10.25613/J0E3-CV19
