by Aziah Siid
To young, K-12 hip-hop fans, and hip-to-it educators, the word is self-explanatory. To their parents, and tradition-minded teachers, the definition usually needs justification.
But Dr. Chris Emdin, an educator and researcher, says his “ratchedemic” concept — fusing rap culture and street smarts with traditional academic lessons to help Black students achieve — is nothing radical. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.
Emdin, director of the Schupf Family IdeaLab at Skidmore College and an education professor and researcher at Columbia University Teachers College, simply found a way to connect with underachieving Black students in poorly-funded schools by meeting them where they are — absorbing pop culture and music — and using it to help them achieve.
In short, it’s about helping kids learn by encouraging them to be their authentic, unapologetically Black selves, then teaching to, and respecting, that identity. It’s teachers using rap battles to memorize a literature lesson, or tying the latest fashion trend to an assignment in art class.
“Ratchedemics initially was a concept that was not just (teaching kids) something in a book” or using old-school methods that emphasized conformity to culturally-white standards, Emdin tells Word in Black. Rather, he says, it’s “a way of knowing, and being, and an approach to teaching and an approach to learning” that reaches young people where they are.
Not long after the start of the new school year, Word In Black caught up with Emdin to talk about the book “Ratchetdemic” and how the ideas behind it have evolved. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Word In Black: You introduced “Ratchetdemic” to the world back in 2021. How has your message changed? Have people grasped the concept?
Chris Emdin: I’ve gotten a ton of notes from people who read the book and said, “You know, Dr. Emdin has opened up my way of looking at the world. As a consequence of reading this work or hearing you speak, I no longer feel as though I have to hide my Blackness or my modes of expression that I’m going to enter into spaces authentically and I’m going to showcase that there is some inherent genius in expressions of my Blackness.”
WIB: What does that look like?
CE: Creating lesson plans that reflect ratchet expressions of self, for example, concurrently with math or science content. I feel like I’ve gotten a lot of teachers to welcome that. I’ve got a lot of young people who welcome that. I’ve got a lot of principals and school leaders saying “I’m going to show up and be myself.” But to have that approach become a part of the structure of schooling or a structure of lesson planning or a function of curriculum has taken a little bit longer than I would have wanted or hoped.
WIB: The idea of ratchetdemic is clearly rooted in Black culture and the Black experience in America. How is it being received among white educators?
CE: White educators either have one or two responses. The first is, this is like a revelation that they never ever saw before: “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I never considered that. I have some work to do!” [Or], very quickly, people start recognizing that what has given them currency historically is no longer going to be the benchmark.
They get really uncomfortable when I’m saying, “Oh, by the way, that black boy in your class who writes rhymes doesn’t want to sit down for 40 minutes straight? He’s actually a genius, and because you’re so boring — that’s why they keep walking around. I’m saying your approach is actually fundamentally flawed. So folks get really upset because you’re challenging the very thing that made them feel academically successful.
WIB: Has there been much blowback?
CE: I wrote this book trying to help white educators to do better and I’ve gotten all this pushback from white educators literally calling me racist because of the subtitle of the book, “For white folks teaching in the hood.” I got a bunch of white educators together and I said, “I shouldn’t be the one telling white educators what to do if they work in urban spaces, so you gotta speak your own truth.”
In the book, I got 24 white educators to talk about whiteness, to talk about racism, to talk about inequity from their perspective as white educators. In this mix, I’m the only Black dude. We all shared the title of the book, [but] I’m the only person who got my social media shadowbanned and accused of promoting the term as hateful and something content.
WIB: Do you have any examples you can think of off the top of your head where you saw a student or teacher successfully engage with “Rachetdemics?”
CE: I’ve done this work for long enough now where I’m seeing these young people graduating and going into college with a different sense of self.
I always tell people that ratchetdemics is the cure to imposter syndrome. When people have imposter syndrome they just don’t feel like they belong or they feel like they’re inadequate. When you have a ratchtedemic energy, you’re like, no, I’m actually dope as I am and look how academic and intellectual I am and how expressive I am.
WIB: What are some misconceptions about it that you’ve had to dispel over the years?
CE: So I come to this welcoming critique that is about elevating my consciousness, but much of the stuff I hear is so stupid. Sometimes it’s just lies: ‘Oh how can he tell us how to teach? He’s never been in the classroom.’ I taught for 20 years. I taught high school physics and chemistry. I was a school assistant principal and I am still in school.
I’ve heard folks say that this is just part of all that DEI stuff and there’s no substance behind it. We have evidence of substance because it’s translated into curriculum and practice in schools every day. I think anybody who’s doing work to shift the system is going to get critique from people who are comfortable within the system.
WIB: What is the future of rachetdemics? Where would you like to take it, and where does it go from here?
CE: I’ve come to understand that I was put on this planet to be an educator. I dream all the time about there being a school where ratchetdemic is in the school’s mission and vision, so that every Black child who walks across the threshold of the door into that building begins every single day with an affirmation of their Blackness, an affirmation of their expressiveness, the knowledge that their melanin, by virtue of it existing in their skin, gives them the capacity to be both intelligent and performative at the same damn time. I don’t see that being a thing only in one space. I see that thing being a national model.
