The Curb-Cut Effect

The Blue Highways of SAU-16

Dan Provost 

Just before Thanksgiving 2020 I was wrapping up a Module with my honors sophomore English class where we explored the tension between “home” and “the road” using William Least Heat Moon’s memoir Blue Highways. Least Heat Moon derives his title from the old gas station road maps, where the major interstate highways are designated in red, and the winding “backroads” are designated in blue. The author was determined to see the country through its backroads, the “blue highways,” and see what he could glean from stopping and chatting with the people whose lives the busy interstates had passed by.


We were about to start our next book, extending our home/road theme with The Book of Unknown Americans, a fictional account that tracks the lives of a Latinx community in a Delaware housing project. I thought it would be cool if I could deliver the books to my students, to go on the road like William Least Heat Moon--so I got their permission, looked up their addresses, and mapped the “blue highways” of SAU-16. My first grader Cooper wanted to come, so I started my 6th period honors English zoom call on my phone, handed it to Coop in the back of the car, and we were off.

I grew up in this community, went to Kensington Elementary School, delivered pizza for Mama Lena’s (not the current Mama Lena’s, the old one, near Herb and Rob’s--not the current Herb and Rob’s, the old Herb and Rob’s, where the Hannaford's parking lot is). So anyway, I can get around pretty efficiently--but even given that, it took me over 3 hours to get to all 23 homes. 

I didn’t keep them on the call the whole time.

One of the reasons it took so long is because every kid came out to meet me. We chatted for a minute or two about class. We lamented that this was the first time meeting face to face, and talked about how we missed school. Many of their parents wanted to talk too, mostly moms, but a few dads. They were all working from home, or making a home was their work. But they were all there, and they all said something nice, asked a question or two about their kid’s progress. Some wanted to talk about the book I was handing over. Several parents had read it with their book clubs. I started worrying about getting back in time for dinner.

I had just a few books left when Coop said something from the back: This house has two houses. He was talking about the pool house. 

Among the homes of my students there was only one with a pool house, but there were several others with 3-car garages, and many had full third stories with doghouse dormer windows, expansive lawns and landscape lighting. These are the neighborhoods that welcome those who live there with a feeling that you have arrived; they have names engraved in granite and flagstone. And they are full, with very few exceptions, of massive houses. 

I started to think how different my afternoon that day would have been if I was delivering books to academic students instead of honors students.

I know how different my screen looks on a zoom call--and those cameras that are off reflect back anxiety not just about being on camera themselves, but in some cases, I imagine, their homes being on camera as well.

I started to wonder about how you end up in an honors class--I mean really end up there: The alignment of hard work, natural ability, good organizational skills and intellectual curiosity with supportive home environments. Moms in book clubs.

I also sat for a moment with the discomfort of my own bias--why it occurred to me to take this road trip only with my honors class.    

I wonder what the median income is for our “honors” families vs our “academic” families. That data may not be available, but you can go on Zillow and get a pretty good idea... 

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DEIJ work is about being willing to sit with the discomfort of the questions raised by an honest examination of access and equity in our own backyard. The community in which I grew up. The community in which my wife and I are raising our family. 

I do not believe the socio-economic diversity of our community is reflected in our homogeneously grouped levels. I might be wrong, but I’m interested in exploring the extent to which that may be true. 

As a school community our participation in this work is an opportunity for personal growth as much as professional growth. We ask our students to challenge the status quo, to examine complex problems and seek nuanced solutions. I see DEIJ as an opportunity to extend that same challenge to ourselves and to our school community.