When the Blueprint Refuses to Change, We Draw Our Own

by Dr. Samara Susan Ryce

I am a Black woman.

An educator.

A mother of three.

A mentor.

An immigrant.

A dreamer.

An American citizen.

A believer in the brilliance of ALL children and the power of teachers to light the path.

And I am angry.

The Department of Education’s decision to cancel the grant that funded the teacher residency program I am a part of was not just a line item slashed in a budget—it was a deliberate gutting of dreams. Of equity. Of the quiet revolution we were building in classrooms and communities across Georgia. A revolution to give ALL children what they needed to succeed. A revolution to shift how people saw those kids at the margins. A revolution to build relationships and center love in all that we do. 

This work mattered. We were preparing teachers to be more than classroom managers. We were preparing them to be freedom fighters, dream defenders, co-conspirators for joy. And now, with the stroke of a pen—or more accurately, with the swipe of a vote—that work has been stopped. Frozen. Defunded.

Let me be clear: I am angry at everyone who voted for Trump.

Angry at everyone who justified it because of their religion.Because what kind of God are you following if your faith leads you to abandon the most vulnerable?

This feels like violence.Not metaphorically—literally. Because when you strip schools and educators of resources, you rob our children of a future. When you silence researchers and dismantle programs designed to build better teachers, you ensure that cycles of oppression stay intact.

And as a mother, this is not theoretical. My oldest son is navigating college to become a mental health professional. My middle child is in high school, holding tight to his love of music and his dream of becoming a musician and composer. My daughter, in middle school, is still learning to embrace her curiosity and her neurodiversity. I am afraid. Not just for them, but for every child whose potential might now be left untapped because someone in power decided education wasn’t worth the investment.

But history reminds me that none of this is new.

This country was never meant for me to read, let alone earn a Bachelor’s, a Master’s, and a Doctorate.

And yet, here I am.

So, what is the remedy when the blueprint refuses to change?

We stop begging to be seen and start building for ourselves.

Not always in the light of day—because the spotlight doesn’t always belong to us—but in the quiet sanctuaries we’ve always known:

• In the fellowship halls of our churches

• In the late-night group chats and early morning coffee meetups

• In book clubs in our living rooms

• In the safe embrace of our sororities

• At the feet of our elders who have seen this before and still kept going

  
  

We do what we’ve always done: We build. We teach. We nurture. We resist.

Because freedom is worth more than a paycheck.Because proximity to whiteness is not safety. Because liberation will never be found in a watered-down version of Christianity that asks us to forgive injustice while silently upholding it.

This work—our work—is sacred. And though they’ve tried to silence us, they’ve only reminded us of our power.

We are not done. We are just getting started.