Using snapshots of the history of Black people as a corrective and curative measure for one month is tantamount to applying a bandage to treat a virulent and stubborn disease.
Except for providing a minimal degree of comfort for Black Americans, what lasting meaning does it have for the rest of America?
There is a better idea whose acceptance is long past due.
In addition to trying to make up for omissions of the experiences and contributions of Black Americans in history books, we should focus on correcting the many disparities caused and perpetuated by institutionalized and systemic racism in education. That would be far more valuable and have long-lasting impact.
Institutionalized racism is prevalent and entrenched — even taken for granted — in schools from kindergarten through college.
At the primary and secondary levels, it is evident in many ways: how resources are allocated; how students are assigned to learning tracks and teachers; and how curricula continue to reflect a scarcity — or near absence — of Black authors, inventors, scientists and other contributors to American history.
That is, until Black History Month rolls around and a few highlights are selected.
No doubt during this month, Brown v. Board of Education — the U.S. Supreme Court decision intended to end segregated schools and provide Black children and other minorities equal access to quality education — is heralded.
In 1954, Black Americans believed they had secured that opportunity. In 2026, more than 70 years later, much remains unchanged.
Schools remain deeply segregated. Too many Black students and other minorities are not graduating — and too many who do leave without a quality education.
The looming question: At what point will America stop the charade and seriously address the institutionalized racism that continues to shape public education?
We see the consequences year after year, decade after decade, generation after generation.
Inferior educational quality limits earning potential. When buying power is hampered, it breeds hopelessness, despair and often resignation to a diminished quality of life. Too often, it also contributes to cycles of crime.
These cycles persist across generations.
They exist plainly within view. We see the impact of an educational system failing children when we drive through neighborhoods and observe lost faces and wandering souls on street corners, in alleyways and near storefronts.
Yes, parents, neighbors, churches and community organizations play a role in keeping children engaged. But fundamentally, what happens once a child is inside the classroom?
It is well known that school systems with reputations for poor educational outcomes contribute to urban flight. Families leave cities for suburbs.
New residents often choose where to live based on school quality.
Some businesses relocate or expand to neighboring suburbs to attract employees — decisions shaped in part by perceptions of struggling school systems.
The economic consequences extend further.
Poor educational systems continue to weigh down urban centers across America.
Why isn’t quality education for Black students and other minorities — who disproportionately live in urban areas — higher on the list of national priorities more than 70 years later?
Is it because entrenched racism, stereotypes and biases continue to obstruct policies that would improve lives and communities?
Black History Month can function only as a temporary acknowledgment of past achievements.
Addressing educational disparities to bring about meaningful change is what remains necessary — beyond Black History Month.
Missouri Independent columnist Janice Ellis has been an executive in both government and the private sector.