Teacher Leadership: What is it?  This question keeps traveling around in my circle of colleagues.  There seems to be a debate as to how teacher leaders are identified, recruited and used in education.  We know that teacher leaders are the backbone of every school; they are the ones that make things happen.  They keep the day-to-day operations running smoothly, make modifications as needed and create the atmosphere of success at each school.  These teachers are seldom charged with these tasks yet they rise to the occasion and take on leadership roles.  I often wonder how this happens, what forces are necessary for a teacher to step out of their classroom and decide that it is up to them to lead?  This naturally makes me question why more teachers don’t decide to step out and lead? As teachers, have we been conditioned to believe that we can only be teacher leaders if someone else anoints us or do we recognize within ourselves the power to lead? 

I am spending this week with over 150 Teacher Leaders pursuing National Board Certification.  Many of them may have never viewed themselves as leaders until today.  Today marks the beginning of a long and evolving journey as teacher leaders.  Some of them may not know it yet, they might think that they are by just making the decision to become board certified but the truth is that for many teachers the certification process will be the catalyst they need to break out of the defined teacher roles and start viewing themselves as influential, credible and competent to lead.  I am very fortunate to have the opportunity to be part of this growth process for teachers.  I get to watch as they find their voices and discover what they are passionate about and help to create pathways for them to be successful.  I once believed that my purpose in this work was to support teachers in becoming better for students, I have since come to understand that my true purpose is to build teacher leaders. 

I still can’t clearly define Teacher Leadership in a way that we can all agree upon because I know that this area of education is constantly being transformed.  The term itself implies action and we, as teachers are very creative in choosing how we decide to lead; we are in fact quite masterful at leading from the middle and not needing to look above or below to get things accomplished.  Maybe it is time to start acting as a collective teacher voice and work towards a common purpose.  We are very influential as individuals, imagine what we might be able to accomplish together.  We might even decide on a common definition for Teacher Leadership.

 

Common Core Standards. Authentic assessment. Site-based decision making. Standardized tests. Community partnerships. Student suicide. Equity. Access. Transformational Education. Accountability. Technology. Funding formulas. Hybrid roles. Teacher Evaluation. National Board Certification. Knowledge of students. Data. Finland. Singapore. Lockdown drills. Bond elections. Reductions in force. Failing schools. Teacher leadership.

Today, at the AZK12 Teacher Leadership Institute in Tucson, current forces swirled through my mind when Dennis Shirley and Andy Hargreaves used the metaphor of a tornado to explain what it feels like to be a teacher in schools in the United States today, what they define as the “third way” of education (based on their writing in the book The Global Fourth Way.) In the “third way,” teachers work at the center of a vortex amid the pressures of limited government support, national accountability and reform efforts, pressure to create and nurture public engagement in education, and the need to work with colleagues to perfect practice. I had two immediate responses to the tornado image: a) Yes. Based on my limited understanding of tornadoes, the metaphor seems apt, and b) this is not a sustainable model for teacher leaders. Tornadoes are frightening, destructive, sudden and unpredictable. They may be fascinating, but even experienced tornado chasers can be killed by a miscalculation or misfortune.

I have just been hired for a new position in a new city, which will require me to get a new endorsement in reading. As I was packing our house and unlayering the papers, art supplies and dog treats from our back room desk, I came across an article that was given to me by a colleague last fall: “Learning to Love Volatility” by Nassim Nicholas Taleb, published in the Wall Street Journal. In it, he talks about his concept of “black swans,” unpredictable events of large magnitude that have huge consequences (such as 9/11 or Hurricane Sandy.) He argues that to deal with black swans, we need systems that are “antifragile,” that actually benefit from disorder. This concept appeals to me on a personal level, I suppose because I have so much disorder, and not just on my back room desk.

Taleb outlines four rules for creating an “antifragile” system:

1. Accept natural fluctuations in systems. Accept complex systems as organic rather than able to be “fixed.” Systems which are micromanaged will not develop self-healing properties. He gives the example of Greenspan trying to micromanage the economy, which made it more fragile. Better to ride the natural troughs.

2. Favor systems that benefit from their own mistakes. The example he gives is the airline industry. When a plane (tragically) crashes, the industry takes steps to make travel safer.

3. Smaller units of authority are actually more efficient. Taleb claims that large projects and institutions are not more efficient, despite popular wisdom, because they become less nimble and able to respond to problems.

4. Trial and error beats academic or theoretical knowledge. The potential cost of error should be small; the potential benefit of success should be large, like the tinkerers who have become some of our greatest innovators.

5. “Decision makers must have skin in the game.” Those making policy or funding decisions must not be distanced from the results of the policy. Taleb points out that the Romans used to require bridge builders to sleep under the bridges they built.

I agree with most of these points (though I might argue for the value of academic knowledge... but that’s another blog). Now, imagine if schools followed these rules? For teachers and students alike?

Although some educational systems follow these precepts, it is highly dependent on visionary leadership by administrators and teachers. I would argue that heading in the direction of many national school “reformy” agendas creates a micromanaged, falsely scientific environment for teaching and learning, governed by those who have little skin in the game. You want data? Teachers will give you data, if that’s what you want.

Taleb’s theory of creating “antifragile” systems that can handle the unavoidable black swans of life has much in common with Andy Hargreaves’ and Dennis Shirley’s Global Fourth Way of education. Although admittedly I have only read half of the first chapter, their six principles for achieving the Fourth Way have synergy with other writing about creativity, innovation, the future of the teaching profession and with what I have been observing in schools after 17 years:

1. Shared moral purpose and collectively-created (not politically imposed) goals. Those of you in Arizona schools know what hoops we jump through to get Prop 301 Performance Pay. Most school plans are designed by a small group of administrators and teachers in order to be successful so that teachers can get the pay. They are not designed with an eye to improving teaching and learning, but with an eye to data. If the work becomes meaningful, it is because of the individuals doing it, not because the policy created collective inspiration to do better.

2. Teaching and learning encompasses a broad range of learning for all kinds of learners. Although many teachers achieve this with their students, our system does not encourage it, especially at the secondary level.

3. Data informs inquiry and decision-making rather than “driving” instruction. Data does not contain self-evident lessons. It must be interpreted within a specific teaching context to be useful. This year when I looked at our district reading benchmark scores for my English students, they corroborated much of what I was seeing in terms of ability among my classes, but they also raised questions for further inquiry: Are 4th period really low readers? Or did they blow off the assessment because of their social tendencies? How can I engage them further in the academic material while building on their social interactions?

4. Testing is used to sample the system without distorting the way it operates. See my reflections on numbers 1 and 3.

5. Teachers develop curriculum; we are not a “delivery system” of other people’s curriculum. Amen. I spent a year working for Kaplan, and although their testing strategies are incredibly helpful, I didn’t feel that I was teaching in earnest. I was delivering the Kaplan program. But at least Kaplan was up front about that fact, and I appreciated that.

6. Leadership emphasizes and creates collective responsibility and not vertical accountability.

A major force in the vortex which sweeps away teachers and administrators is number 6. I see administrators who seem (from the outside) to want to get to the conversations about collective responsibility, but get stuck in the demands of vertical accountability (see my rant on data in this entry). The national conversation about education is certainly volatile, and it is certainly in disorder. If you want to dipstick the complexity and varying approaches to the diversity of issues facing educators, choose five people at random and ask them to define “school reform.” And here’s the rub, as always: Our students are Dorothy and Toto, trapped inside a spinning house.

Andy and Dennis today encouraged us to be dynamos in education, not just passive levers of change. According to Taleb, their ideas have the potential to create a complex and antifragile education system in this country, one that is steered by a shared moral imperative and clear national goals for education, but imagineered by communities of teachers and local leaders, those with skin in the game, those most able to respond to problems (i.e. take responsibility). A school full of students is, to steal a phrase from Taleb, more like a cat than a washing machine. They are organic and ever changing. It is impossible to fix them with an instruction manual.

Hopefully, when the tornado passes, as they always do, we have all been swept away to a land where administrators, teachers and students discover that we have hearts, brains and courage, and the means to return home to our center, unscathed.

 

  In Part One  I asked, What will teachers finally say when we are given a voice at the policy-making table?  Part Two profiled John Prosser, a teacher leader in Washington state, who facilitates the implementation of policy he helped negotiate.  The conclusion features Holly Franks Boffy, a teacher leader who serves on the Louisiana State Board of Education.



 

Finding an Identity

Holly Franks Boffy's path to state-wide leadership began by confronting that most elemental question: Who am I going to be? 

She found her answer by declaring first, who she was not going to be. 

Holly's son, Pierce, battles with Osteogenesis Imperfecta, commonly known as "Brittle Bone Disease" or simply, OI.  The name, according to the website, translates as "bone that is made imperfectly from the beginning of life."  The condition is characterized by fragile bones that break easily. People born with OI are impacted their entire lives. 

While caring for Pierce after an accident that left a large part of his body in a cast, Holly decided that while OI presented a life challenge, it would not define her identity.  She says that at the time she felt an urge - something inside her - telling her to run.  Interpreting the call literally, she began training for and finally competing in a 5k race.

But the urge to run wouldn't let go.  So Holly entered a different kind of race - the 2011 race for a seat on the Louisiana State Board of Elementary and Secondary Education (BESE). She ran against a twelve year incumbent who was a businessman by profession.  Her message was simple:

"Who do you want making education policy - a Louisiana State Teacher of the Year (2010) with ten years classroom experience and three degrees in education -- or the guy who sells insurance?"

On Saturday, November 10, 2011, the voters answered the question unequivocally by electing Holly with a 2 to 1 margin.

Walking the Talk

When we talked on the phone Holly first reflected on the weight of responsibility she assumes as a teacher on the state board of education, "When I was a teacher I went to sleep with a hundred students on my mind.  Now I go to sleep thinking about 700,000." She says she'll see a group of kids on a field trip and look them in the eye and think, "You don't know who I am, but I affect your life."

So what is it like to have such influence? What about when a hot topic in education brings out emotional demonstrations from the public?  Does she ever face sad young children with hand painted signs urging her to do something?  "Oh, those kids with signs!" she exclaims.  She sees her share and appreciates their sincerity and intent.

She cautions, though, that while passion may get your attention, emotion can also be a turn-off.  It's facts in tune with the big picture that persuade policy.  She keeps in mind that the most emotional citizens represent the end members of an issue, but that she also represents the people in the middle, those that don't often show up at public meetings.  And often the decisions the loudest groups want don't represent the best or fairest use of limited resources.

What Holly says she can never do is base her decisions on making people happy.  She remains focused on what policies the evidence suggests will most benefit children and raise the profession. 

How does she react when teachers disagree with each other about an issue? When, as she says, "You put thirty teachers in a room and you have thirty different opinions."  Holly considers that her first job in this case is to listen and coach people to understand their own thinking. She tries to find shared perspectives and to keep discourse solutions-oriented.

A specific goal of Holly's is to elevate our profession. She was surprised to learn her state's teaching standards define minimal proficiencies. But she wants to find a means to promote exemplars, to find and raise into view "clinics of success".

As an aside, I wondered if more experienced policy-makers were condescending to her, being "just" a teacher, but she said absolutely not. In fact, her colleagues on BESE recognized the special knowledge and credibility she has as a former classroom teacher and elected her Secretary-Treasurer of BESE.

Conclusion

Holly wishes more teachers would put themselves on the line and speak up and act and pursue positions of influence.  But in the end, the final piece of teacher leadership is not voice or message. Surprisingly, both Holly Franks Boffy and John Prosser emphasized that listening was what mattered.  They both spoke about the humbling responsibility that comes with making and implementing policies that impact large numbers of teachers and students.  They're in agreement that facts and fairness should carry the day.

But listening comes first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Related articles

How will we walk the talk? Part One

How Will We Walk the Talk? Part Two

I am not a natural storyteller. Often, when I tell my husband about something that has happened at school, he will nod expectantly and say, slightly impatiently, “And...?” to hurry me to the point because he knows it might take a while. I’m tangential.

And that is one reason I believe that writing is a good thing in my life. It allows me to rant, cry, pout, veer off into vectors, and spiral back to what is essential. Revision (i.e. chopping down ideas and putting them in an order that makes sense to someone) is a good thing. In my (wonderful) graduate program, I took a class called “Rewriting a Life” by the wise and lovely Tilly Warnock. The premise of the class was that the act of writing out our lives reshapes them, and makes meaning from our memories. One of our texts was You Must Revise Your Life by poet William Stafford, from which I stole the title of this entry. It helps my stories make more sense to my husband if I go through a bit of a selective process before I tell them.

I remember in my teacher ed classes way back in the early ‘90’s, we were advised to keep a reflective journal. It was a great suggestion. But it is quite a commitment to say you will write each day about your teaching. Hats off to those who manage it. I mean, really. Hats off. It is a courageous act, much like videotaping oneself, to keep a teaching diary. I think if I did that I would never re-read it. It’s too terrible to see who we were yesterday. But, for me, it is incredibly helpful to take stock of who I am today.

I have greatly enjoyed keeping both a personal blog (which often veers toward professional issues) and also contributing here. I think it is good policy for teachers to be writers, and here’s why:

A. Personal and professional development. Much like practicing any art form, writing will shape you and your identity.

B. Learning real writing processes. Writing helps us relate to the writing processes our students go through and become better teachers of writing (which most of us, ultimately, are at some point). (For more thoughts on this, see a speech I delivered about the National Board writing process.)

C. Entering the conversation. If you blog your reflections, and read other ed blogs, you will soon find other voices who enrich your professional life. Also, having readers is nice.

D. Creating a diverse chorus of teacher voices which will at some point take out the Death Star (however you define the Death Star). Many policy makers still have a dim idea of what life in the classroom is like. Ideologies drive much of the public conversation. Ideas can be argued, but it is hard to argue with your experiences. The stories of teachers and students are the reality of education today.

Take some time this summer to jot your thoughts. Join the conversation. Have a great summer!

 

 

 

"We did not put our ideas together. We put our purposes together."  Adam Kahane, Solving Tough Problems

John Prosser is there. A teacher leader involved in policy-making. He began as a middle school teacher in the Seattle Tacoma area, then went to law school, then back to the classroom. During a strike in 2011, he and his twin brother became leaders in their union by supporting the lines and eventually serving on the team that resolved the action. He is now a facilitator implementing the policy the strike resolved: how to fairly find the best match between displaced teachers and receiving schools. 

In Part One I asked how teacher leaders will walk the talk when we finally get a seat at the policy making table. John revealed in recent phone calls that policy-making requires an intense level of responsibility, a spirit of conciliation, an unyielding obligation to get the facts right, and an inner knowledge of what it will take to change your mind. 

When his committee began to negotiate teacher placement, those who had been adversaries in the strike had the eye-opening revelation that although the strike had served as a catalyst to get them together, they needed a new approach. They placed everything on the table and collaborated on setting a goal and finding a path. They were acutely aware that their decisions would impact every teacher and, by extension, every student in the district.

Solving Tough Problems, a memoir in which Adam Kahane writes about resolving problems from Apartheid to conflict in Guatemala, inspired the negotiations. John relates, "We said, 'After all, if they can solve Apartheid, we can solve teacher-placement.'" Listening to and understanding the needs of the other party opened their eyes; discussing the craziest ideas from each party opened their minds. Fidelity to the facts secured a resilient policy.

A self-described "intellectual mercenary," John is beholden to no point of view beyond that which the facts support. And sometimes that applies to his own views. A recent proposal that principals could use teacher evaluations in determining placement for displaced teachers seemed in direct conflict with the policy his team had crafted.  A divisive fight seemed inevitable and healing wounds could be reopened.

Yet, driving home one day, John realized that the negotiated agreement already included language that principals must consider teacher evaluations - if a teacher had a poor evaluation or probationary status, the principal couldn't displace them - thus avoiding a kabuki dance of the lemons. He wrote a memo that made it through the decision-making machinery and ameliorated the conflict before it began.

I do have a voice

It's easy to say "I don't have a voice," but John says there are ways to be heard - through social media, blogs, and the old-school means of calling and writing your congressional representatives. He also suggests looking for opportunities to sit down and talk with representatives or their staff - maybe at a rally or public event. In his experience policy-makers want to know what teachers think and keep track of our opinions.   

Yet John cautions that teachers need to do their own research and have a well-crafted message. Although politicians may listen, it's an informed, research-based, well-articulated position that they hear. 

Consider his experience after teachers at Garfield High in Washington state refused to administer a standardized test. Opinion leader and former Washington D. C. School Chancellor Michelle Rhee wrote an essay in the Seattle Times criticizing the boycott. John, acting in no official capacity, wrote a response on his personal blog that systematically deconstructed Ms. Rhee's arguments.

Imagine John's surprise when he received an email from none other than Diane Ravitch asking if he were real. She not only tweeted his post, but praised his essay in her own blog.  (John's a modest guy, but if you press him, he'll admit that she really did call his essay "brilliant.")

In summary, John says to inform yourself and act - make that phone call, write that blog - work on what most irks you, but work from knowledge and with an open-mind. Be prepared for frustration and hiccups in the process.  But be prepared, too, to find your power. 

What's next?

In the conclusion to How Will We Walk the Talk? you'll meet Holly Franks Boffy, a teacher leader who upon deciding that a personal life challenge would not become her identity, committed to train for and run in a 5K race. She ended up running all the way to a seat on the Louisiana State Board of Education.

 

 

 

The public perceives that during summer vacation teachers take vacation.  The teacher-leader community perceives that we work - planning for the new year, attending and presenting at conferences, and the like.

I think the public perception is closer to the truth.

From May 24 until July 29, my time off, I have sixty-five days that I own. I'm committed to ten days of compensated work (and I hope to find some more).  I'll likely sprinkle in another ten days or so of uncompensated time planning for next year and maintaining my lab.  So as it stands, I'm looking at forty-five free days this summer - more than six weeks.

When I hear teacher-leaders colleagues declare - usually in conferences or on Facebook - that we work in the summer it bothers me that the tone is universally negative and defensive.  The terms Teacher Martyr and Teach Whiner jump to mind. 

In a conference a presenter may speak in lofty terms, something like, "The public right now thinks we're all out enjoying ourselves on vacation, but here we are showing our dedication to our profession on this June afternoon."  Lots of heads will nod in agreement or shake in despair. 

On Facebook, there will be lots of cartoons. They usually feature a frazzled character telling us something like, "The next time someone tells you it must be nice to have summers off, tell them, "Oh really? If you think planning curriculum and going to in-services is vacation, than it's just great!" Those cartoons always get a lot of likes, and "Too true" comments.

But in between the conference, which lasted six hours in an air-conditioned room and included lunch, and logging into Facebook at night, I'll drive by the bridge they're building near my house.  The workers were on the job two hours before I left and will go on another hour after I get home.  Their air is conditioned by the Tucson sun.  They ate their lunch out of a metal box while sitting on a rock. 

My conference was likely inspiring and transformational.  I'm motivated and energized.  I'm a better teacher.  The construction workers are tired, sweaty, and sunburned.  I'd be embarassed to say I'd been at work. 

So where does the defensiveness of teachers come from? I have just as many people tell me that I deserve a break after nine months teaching.  When someone is more sarcastic, I embrace that challenge, "You have no idea how good it is to have two months all my own.  I'll spend some time planning and learning, and still have tons left for personal projects, reading, and travel. It's a great part of being a teacher."

If someone claims  I demean the profession by stating that summer vacation is a great part of teaching, I'd counter that it's no more demeaning than stating that because I'm professionally active for twenty out of sixty-five days, I'm really not on vacation.

So, having made war, let me try to make peace.  My twenty busy days this summer are less than average for me and less than many colleauges.  And some colleagues do seem to be professionally engaged all summer long. 

Most importantly, the work, oops, our summer professional activity moves the profession forward, and I don't trivialize it at all. 

And I'm happy to engage contrary opinions - preferably at poolside poolside this summer while enjoying an adult beverage after our conference breaks for the day.

 

 

“With a library you are free, not confined by temporary political climates. It is the most democratic of institutions because no one - but no one at all - can tell you what to read and when and how.”  Doris Lessing

When Margaret Thatcher passed away a few weeks back, just about every retrospective of her contributions included her strengthening of the “special relationship” between the United States and Britain. That got me thinking about the special relationships in a school system, those relationships that, while quantifiably hard to define, create a web of connections that build a true learning community. I hope that your school includes many of these.

Today, I honor the special relationship between our librarians and our English department.

To be fair, our librarians create special relationships throughout our school.  Throughout National Poetry Month, one of our librarians, Amy Rusk, sends out an e-mail each day that includes a timely poem.  Spontaneously, teachers and staff members from all disciplines and positions in the school send her poems in return, or appreciative responses to her choices.  Christie Friske-Daniels, our other librarian, teaches the library practice students important skills in managing the collection, regulating entry to the library, providing customer service, and problem-solving as well as a host of other skills, most of which transfer to the academic work they will do across the curriculum (not to mention boosting their resumes for after-school jobs). She gets to know these students and nurtures them.  

We are lucky to have two full-time librarians, even though our school is over 3000 students, and they have built our very special library into a vital organ of the school, and have rendered themselves indispensable.

However, I like to think that the English department has a very special relationship with our library. Here is an example: Last year, when Kore Press brought The Big Read to Tucson, Amy helped weave together collaborations with Kore representatives, Stories that Soar, and other local groups to create a showcase of student work and performances inspired by Emily Dickinson.  Most of the student work from Tucson High was completed in English classrooms during lessons that we developed and co-taught with Amy and submitted for the showcase.  Amy also worked with the student gallery specialist at our school to create a display honoring Emily Dickinson and even more student work inspired by her.  She partners with English teacher Kurt Garbe to head up the Poetry Out Loud effort at our school, resulting in two state champions out of the last six years. If it hadn’t been for our librarian, those community connections never would have synthesized within our school. Those showcases and displays inspired my students to read and write more poetry.  

Our librarians attend our English department PLC meetings and participate in our PLC.  Christie, an ex English teacher herself, has spent time creating proposals for vertical curriculum maps for research skills, helping our department to envision how the library could help us provide students instruction on the inquiry process and the evaluation and ethical use of sources.  She has worked with my classes (and others) multiple times teaching lessons that we developed together to meet students where they are and move them forward in their use of library resources to expand their understanding of research topics.  She even volunteers to score the worksheets they complete sometimes as they learn basic search strategies and library skills.  Christie also helps me create book lists based on units and research projects my students are working on, and prepare carts thoroughly loaded with the exact right resources for what I am teaching.

Our two librarians help to create a culture of voracious readers at our school. They generously stock the fiction, manga and comics sections and create policies that allow those resources to be widely utilized.  For manga, students can only take five at a time and can only have them for five days.  The students who read manga visit the library often, and use it well.  In addition, Amy heads up our school’s poetry club, who also creates the literary magazine.  Our librarians' curation of our collection, enthusiasm for good reads and welcoming smiles in the library make it a nurturing place for readers, and as an English teacher I greatly appreciate that.  

I could go on and on.  Each year, the library hosts the museum-style display developed by the Women and Writing senior class.  They make computers available to students as often as possible.  Amy teaches the Intellectual Freedom classes for parents and teachers. These classes qualify them to participate on committees to evaluate complaints against books which are on the shelves in libraries across the district.  In other words, she ensures that every book will get a fair consideration, and that the days of a few angry voices getting a book removed from the shelves will not happen.  This underscores most of our values as English teachers that students have as wide a range of reading made available to them as possible.

Who am I kidding?  The English department has no special claim to these remarkable human resources.  They host the science fair, provide support for research in the social studies courses as well as English, bring in community speakers such as Holocaust survivors and authors, arrange screenings of films such as a recent one we watched about the history and relevance of Wonder Woman as a superheroine, provide space and set-up for a plethora of meetings and trainings.... There is too much to list.   

The librarians at our school remind me what it means to have a vital library, one that becomes a beating heart of the school, a heart in counterpoint to the stadium, the cafeteria, the attendance office, the little theater.  Good librarians are irreplaceable, and yet so often they are replaced during budget cuts.  When they are replaced (or taken and not replaced), books disappear off the shelves, computers and furniture are not maintained, the collection and its use go into decline, a place of warmth and light on campus becomes a place of emptiness and sterility, poems go unwritten, and voices go unheard. Let’s do all we can to preserve funding for our school libraries, and to place them in the loving hands of highly qualified and passionate librarians.

 

Recently a friend of mine posted a link on Facebook to a political radio program in which the reporter was revealing the “danger” of Common Core.  Having implemented the Common Cores standards in my classroom this past year, I was intrigued by the comments below her video link.  Moms were asking how to monitor their children’s exposure to Common Core standards in the classroom.  I was curious, whatever do they mean?  My curriculum was explicitly aligned to Common Core standards, and I felt no moral qualms over my pedagogical decisions.  So I watched the link.  Here are the key quotes I listed from this radio program:

1. “Common Core is dumbing down America’s students.”
2. “Common Core encourages Communism.”
3. “Common Core’s New Math lessons are awful.”
4. “Elementary Literacy Curriculum is 70% Classics and 30% Manuals.” 
5. “Common Core is making our kids into slaves.”

Upon hearing this, I was definitely torn between 3 responses: throw up, laugh hysterically, or have a heart attack.  I replied to this post, providing my feedback as a seasoned teacher.  But what would I know?  The media must be the expert in education.

While visiting with friends at a dinner party a few weeks ago, the Sandy Hook school massacre was brought up.  People were passionately debating the issue of arming teachers in the classroom. They discussed how legislation  was introduced in about two dozen states, allowing school personnel to carry guns.  South Dakota has become the first state in the nation to ratify a law allowing school employees to carry guns on the job.  A few people asked my opinion about having a gun in my classroom.  I answered with, “As a first grade teacher who sits on the floor a lot, I would be concerned with accidentally shooting myself.”  That was debated with the idea of having the gun in a safe.  I answered back, "When would I have time to pull out a gun from a safe when someone is ready to shoot me?"  But what would I know?  The legislators must be the experts in education.

Arizona finally completed our week of statewide standardized assessments, otherwise known as the AIMS.  Teachers and administrators were nervous wrecks.  I helped administer the AIMS in several different classrooms this year, and there were 3 kinds of looks on the students’ faces: frustration, indifference, or excitement.  (Unfortunately I only saw one really excited student.)  Our school will receive its “grade” by the summer, and teachers will be contacted with a “grade,” based on the performance of their students on the AIMS.  The Department of Education and our school districts apply our students’ performance on standardized assessments to determine the teachers’ proficiency as educators.  This impacts our evaluations, which in turn affects our salaries.  Yet teachers have consistently communicated for over a decade the pitfalls of standardized assessments.  Teachers have provided administrators with alternative methods of assessment.  Have they been implemented??  Obviously the Department of Educations must be the expert in education.

What’s my point?  Is it to defend Common Core standards, propose school safety measures, or rebel against standardized assessment?  Not today.  I usually do.  But I am tired.  I’ve taught for 15 years in two different states.  I received my National Board Teaching Certification and attended countless professional development sessions, curriculum seminars, and teacher conferences.  I actively read the latest pedagogical articles and books to further myself as a lifelong teacher/ learner.  But am I viewed as an expert?  Unfortunately no.  The nation seems to want to appoint the media, legislators, and state administrators as the experts in education.  The next time you want to believe the “experts in education,” ask yourself, how often are they in the classroom? What makes them the experts?  Who is tuned in to the needs and wants of children?  Maybe it’s time to listen to the teachers.  We do have the answers.

You've seen the cartoons.  They're very popular on teachers' Facebook pages:

• A politician holding up a blank slate with the message, "This is the number of policy decisions teachers made when we gave them the chance."
• A teacher standing in front of a class of politicians, one of whom is asking, "How do I know a good teacher from a bad teacher?" 
• Two politicians at the water cooler, eyes downcast, with the caption,  "'I wish a teacher with no policy making experience would just come in and tell me how to govern,' said no elected official ever."

OK, not really. Each is the inverse of a real cartoon that actually does get passed around - like the one accompanying this post.  And each of the real cartoons expresses the frustration of teachers tasked to execute policies into which we had no say.  The cartoon above drips with irony suggesting that if teaching were so easy, even a politician could do it. 

But how good will teachers be at making policy?  Or, for that matter, even advising policy makers? 

Right now the message of the teacher leader movement, of which I consider myself a member, is that teachers deserve a voice, a place at the table. Heck, we deserve to set the table.  And the message is gaining ground.  Every teacher I know, upon hearing of the teacher leader movement, has been an instant and enthusiastic supporter, as has every parent. 

So I claim our time is coming.

The claim is not that we're near a tipping point in teacher-led education policy.  Nor is it that our efforts in claiming a voice should diminish.  Rather, the claim is that we should start preparing for the next step by paying attention to Andy Hargreaves and Dennis Shirley.

In Chapter 2 of their book The Global Fourth Way: The Quest for Education Excellence, they review how organizational experts like Charles Handy and Peter Senge use the Sigmoid curve as a model of the growth and collapse of a product.  Initially, there is slow and unsteady growth, but as the product catches on, acceptance increases at a rapid pace before leveling off and finally collapsing. 

The key to avoiding the collapse is that, "It is before, not after an organization has improved its existing product as much as it has been able, that it needs to be inventing new ones."

What's true for products may be true for teacher leadership.  Our voices are growing and we are forming networks and exploiting social media to great effect.  Our means of advocating for teacher led policy continue to improve, but is not at its peak. 

Yet, now is the time to invent new ideas - about the policies we long to help craft.  Because if teacher leaders, local and national, don't have concrete and actionable policy ideas in hand and ready to promote, our movement will fall off the cliff.

Think of hot button issues in education: Standardized testing, teacher evaluation, Common Core, compensation, charter schools, and so forth.   It won't do to say we just want to do what's right for kids, or want policies that support and don't punish struggling teachers.  We will have to name them to claim them.

And we have to be ready to argue among ourselves, compromise, and make decisions when all options are bad.  And we have to be ready to do it all in public. 

Some teachers are already there, informing policy makers and serving on policy making boards.  I'm going find out what those pathfinders have to say.

 

 

 

It’s no secret that we are and have been experiencing teacher shortages for some time in education.  Something that is new and that we might not be prepared for is the loss of our district administrators and principals.  Each person that leaves the field of education leaves for their own reasons, but nonetheless they leave a gap.  We grow accustomed to building relationships and seeking guidance from those that “lead” us.  It is becoming too frequent that we are left without the human resource of leadership.  The feeling of frustration and possibly abandonment that is felt by teachers is creating uncertainty in our profession.  Teachers constantly have to figure out new systems for communication and new norms for interactions each time that there is turnover at their school site or district. 

It is possible for this frustration to come to an end.  Teachers hold the key to changing the structures that have been in place in education for far too long.  The time has come for we as teachers to stop tiptoeing each time someone new is put in place to lead us.  Why can we not lead ourselves?  We successfully lead classrooms each day; we lead meetings, professional developments and community events.  We are already skilled leaders.  We often do not recognize these skills in ourselves because we are waiting for someone else to recognize them in us and to grant us the title of Teacher Leader.  I challenge this idea, we are teacher leaders.  As a teacher, each time that we step out of your classroom to support a colleague, mentor a new teacher, create a piece of work or possibly design a PD event, we have stepped into the role of Teacher Leader.

Too often the traditional or well-defined role of teacher leadership will take teachers down a cookie cutter path.  This might include department chair, instructional coach, assistant principal etc… All roles that have been established having clear expectation, criteria and that have been used by many.   I think of this as ‘you can lead as long as you are following’.  For many years this has been the only path for teachers to take that might have been interested in becoming leaders.  I think that the time has come to explore the idea of informal teacher leader roles; they have served as the backbone of every school, yet often go unrecognized or supported.

Informal teacher leaders aren’t selected; they emerge on their own.  These teachers are able to identify needs, seek partners to support needs and create pathways for both teacher and student success.  This happens organically and usually includes a call to action that mobilizes a larger group to focus on a challenge or need.  Colleagues respect these teacher leaders, have the skills to communicate well and have the disposition to make things happen.  Often these informal teacher leadership roles are what keep many teachers in the profession.  These teachers are the backbone of every school.

Maybe the next time we are in search of leadership, we may only need to look in the classroom next door.