Black History Today: Brad Brown, trusted mentor and guidepost
/Black History Today, created by Marcus Harden in celebration of Black History Month, pays tribute to the living legacy of Black history in our community and beyond and recognizes the people shaping the future.
Presented in collaboration with the South Seattle Emerald.
Photo courtesy of PSESD
“An offering from a sage and a king is more than silver and gold. It is a seed of hope, a bud of faith … now let he who has watered, be watered.”
By Marcus Harden
There’s no such thing as a self-made person. Nobody who survives or thrives through the human experience ever truly goes it alone. There are hands and hearts, seen and unseen, that help shift the course of everyone's lives.
Every now and then, we are fortunate enough to be able to stop and pinpoint the moments — and more importantly, the people — that have had a profound impact on us during this wild and crazy thing called life.
Brad Brown, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is one of the biggest influences in my life. I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t be reading Black History Today, today, if it wasn’t for his stewardship, guidance and care in my early professional years.
Brad is Southern-bred with West Coast Flavor. Brad’s work ethic and dedication come proudly from his parents, who instilled in him a deep-rooted humility and sense of service to others. If you want to see him light up, ask about his parents or children, and you’ll bask in their joy and wisdom.
Brad currently serves as the executive director of learning, teaching and leadership development for the Puget Sound ESD in the Metro Seattle Area. It’s no surprise that his role is to oversee constant teaching and learning, as any moment around Brad is a lesson in life and the multiple ways of learning.
A lifelong educational servant, Brad has been a teacher, a college & career coordinator, a principal and an assistant principal, and he has served in numerous district-level positions throughout Washington State, leaving an undeniable footprint no matter where he goes. An avid storyteller (in a great way), Brad has a quotable or usable parable for almost any moment that he is able to articulate to make change.
I first encountered Brad as a young educator, fresh out of college, thinking I knew it all. I walked into what ended up being an impromptu interview in which Brad asked me to support him giving wise counsel to a young man. After we concluded the conversation, he informed me that I was hired and that he’d support me in my growth (I thought I was done growing, ‘cause I was a 22-year-old with a bachelor’s!).
For the next four years, Brad would guide me professionally and, whether he knew it then or not, personally as well. He was the first person to teach me about salary negotiations and really knowing your worth. He taught me how to show up in spaces in education where I was still yet uncomfortable (mainly adults at that time), and most importantly, he allowed me to show up in the spaces I was most passionate about.
He would champion me when I was right and offer valuable correction when I was wrong. One moment has transformed and stuck with me the most, though, and that came when Brad made the hard decision to leave.
Madrona K-8, where we were honored to serve, was more than a school — it was an experience. Through all we’d worked hard with the community to build, the school and the people in it had become family. It was 7 a.m. days and 7 p.m. nights, a dinner tab at the restaurant around the corner and a sense of accomplishment with people you loved and respected.
So, selfishly, I was upset that Brad, my mentor (I couldn’t tell him that then), was leaving. And 26-year-old me couldn’t understand why. I knew he endured a nearly-90-minute commute both ways, but still, we were doing so well.
To this day, I quote a conversation we had, and it’s become one of the north stars that guides my work. Brad and I stood upstairs over the gym, where we couldn’t talk too loudly for fear of echoing in the halls.
“Steel (his nickname for me), I can’t stay here and raise Barack* and Beyonce* while only seeing my own children in the morning when they’re asleep and in the evening when they’re asleep,” Brad said. “That’s not fair to them, that’s not fair to Shay (Brad’s incomparable wife) and that’s not fair to these kids, who I love, too.”
It’s the first time I’d seen him cry (he’ll probably kill me for this), but the profound respect I had for him, living his values and code and long before it was a buzzword, modeling to me what balance meant, is a lesson I’ve taken with me and shared many times since. I felt a weird privilege, like he was handing the keys over to me in his stead, and for the next few years, I (along with just an incredible team — shout-out to everyone at MK8!) did the best we could with the foundation he had laid.
We’ve remained friends over the years, and as we’ve both grown, I’ve respected his journey. We may not always agree on methods, but we always agree on the pursuit of equitable outcomes and greater life-outcomes for communities we care deeply about.
Drake said you have to work until your idols become your rivals, but in my case, I’ve been lucky. One of my idols has become a valued and respected friend. In many spaces in his presence, I still feel like the young 22-year-old who knew everything and nothing at the same time. I have no doubt that there are many more like me who could say the same, who feel a similar connection to Brad as a trusted mentor and guidepost. Brad Brown embodies what it means to be a leader, what it means to be an advocate, and what it means to be an agent of change. He is, undeniably, Black History Today!
Original artwork created by Devin Chicras for the South Seattle Emerald.
