But the Policy Says ....

This narrative of a critical incident relates to events I experienced during my fifth year as an elementary school principal in a small town in Ontario, Canada during the early 80’s. The incident was significant enough to me at the time, but it is only in recent years that I realize how much it has shaped and influenced my thinking and professional work since then. Moreover, I realize now how these events were the trigger for what became my scholarly preoccupation with studying the influence of personal values on educational leadership practices. The irony is that my experiences that year were not particularly unique. I suspect many school principals of the era could recount similar tales.

The context of my narrative is as follows. I was a “teaching principal” in a JK-8 school located in a small town in rural central Ontario. The enrollment of my school was approximately 120 students and this was large enough to allow me to split my time equally between teaching and being the principal. There were five of us on staff and my office doubled as the staff room. As a result the teachers and I worked closely with each other, whether we wanted to or not. I suspect that an army tank crew would experience similar dynamics! I taught a split grade 7/8 class half-time in the morning and carried out school administrative duties in the afternoon. Officially I had a 50% teaching and 50% administration assignment. My close interactions with the teachers and relatively heavy teaching load had the effect of keeping me quite teacher-oriented as well as student-oriented. I also tended to be more collaborative in style than was the norm for my peers in those days. I’m not sure if this was because of my personal orientations or simply the outcome of the context of my professional work environment.

My school was located at the extreme edge of a geographically large school district, so my supervisor, an “area superintendent” for the large school district, did not visit my little rural school often, preferring to rely on telephone conversations. In any case, after four years at the school as a principal, things were running pretty smoothly. I had developed a reputation as a young but effective school administrator. In retrospect I can see that I was perceived as an “instructional leader.” While I didn’t realize it at the time, I was very focused on curricular programs and school district initiatives as a way to build consensus among staff. No wonder the superintendents considered me a good little soldier! Specific curricular innovations tended to be adopted as our school improvement projects and my notion of protecting the best interests of students was through well run curricular programs, conscientious teaching, and good resources.

This was the early 80’s so Special Education legislation was a big priority at the district office. We educators were experiencing a shocking increase in paperwork and documentation related to identifying and accommodating the needs of students with special needs. Parents were now required by law to be members of committees and students identified as having special needs had to have individual learning plans. This was the beginning of the big accountability push that is still with us today. I recall keeping track for two weeks of how my admin time was being used as part of a master’s degree project and was shocked to discover that a full 50% of my admin time was now directed to special education related activities. But I didn’t mind because I intuitively sensed that I could used these newly identified students with special needs as a lever to procure additional resources and support for my school, my teachers and my students. Being a principal of a small school in those days meant you needed a strong entrepreneurial streak and the instincts of a used car salesman. If there was a grant or free resource available from the district, I was all over it. I even used to beg sample copies of reading texts and math textbooks from my colleagues in other schools. One advantage of small grade groupings is that one could quickly accumulate enough books for a “class set” that way.

At some point in the Fall semester of that year the superintendents and school district announced and “implemented” (a new word for us in those days) their new policy for special education procedures in the district. I studied it carefully, mostly with the intent of mining it as a source of additional resources for the school, but also because I was in the habit of using new policies and curricular innovations as a professional focus for the staff. One component of the new policy indicated that funding was available for hiring classroom assistants in support of children identified with learning disabilities. This really grabbed my attention because we really needed some help with of special needs kids.

In compliance with the requirements of this new policy, we as a staff formed an “IPRC” (need identification) committee and carefully documented the needs of students, most of whom we were already accommodating informally. By late in the Fall term, and as a result of some formalized testing, it became apparent that a little boy in particular, a grade five student, had a significant learning disability and, according to the terms of the policy, was a prime candidate for having a teaching assistant assigned to support him in the classroom. There were forms to fill out and protocols to be followed in order to get this kind of support. We complied to the policy protocols with the greatest care. I consulted regularly with the superintendent and district coordinator of special education, and by about mid-November all was submitted. I even had the names and resumes for several potentially good hires to fill the new teaching aide position we were expecting and I informed the staff that I was confident we have our new staff member in place by start of term in January. I should also mention that quite a few schools in our district, especially those located in the city where the district office is located, had managed to have teaching aides assigned to them throughout the first semester.

January came and there was no new aide. I contacted my superintendent and asked if we had failed to provide something he needed and when we could expect to have our new classroom aide. He was slow replying and, when he did, informed us that he needed to visit the school and see this child himself before he could make a judgment about allocating more resources. It took a few weeks to get him to the school. When he did come, I made sure the boy’s Mom, who was a member of the IPRC committee of course, was there. Our part time special education teacher had all the paperwork and test scores and minutes of meetings ready for the superintendent to examine. The superintendent visited the school and classroom and then left without making any commitment, although I certainly asked.

As more weeks went by, I became pretty frustrated. The policy was clear. We had done the paperwork. And to my mind it was a no-brainer, the boy needed the help and the policy said we were entitled to the additional support. Why was the superintendent delaying a decision that was so obvious? Indeed, many other schools in the district had received additional support in the classroom for very similar cases. I became more insistent with my phone calls. Finally the superintendent informed me that there was no more money for teachers aides, that the budget had been completely expended for the year. I refused to accept that answer. The policy was clear and there was no mention of budgetary limits. Why should my school be denied support so readily provided to other schools? Indeed, all the rhetoric up to now had been about our sacred and legally bound duty as educators to meet the needs of every identified special needs child. I was incensed and more than a little suspicious that our little rural school was once again getting stiffed for resources to which we were entitled. The difference this time is that we were backed by the law and a policy that seemed pretty ironclad. I insisted that the needs of this little boy be met through the appointment of classroom aide. I made it clear that the school community would accept nothing less, hinting broadly of dissatisfied parents calling to protest.

The superintendent visited my school again soon after that conversation. We met in my office. He informed me there would be no new classroom assistant, once again stating that there was no money left for new hires. He then informed me that, beginning the following Monday, my assignment would be altered. I would teach the grade 7 / 8 class 60% of the day. I could carry out my principal’s duties during the time in the afternoon. This was something less than two hours per day. The French teacher who had been my half-time administrative relief in the afternoon, was to work as an aide in the grade five class during the afternoon in support of the little boy needing the extra help. He further added that because I was so deeply committed to the needs of this little boy that I would surely be agreeable to this arrangement.

I felt deeply betrayed, but really had no choice. I started teaching the grade 7 / 8 students history and geography in the afternoon, in addition to the language arts and math I taught in the morning. My relief teacher worked with the little boy as a support teacher for about 1.5 hours each day. I actually found that I enjoyed teaching history and I’m sure my grade 7 / 8 students were beneficiaries of this arrangement, but I was still very offended that I was being punished personally for the district’s failure to provide resources they had guaranteed and were by law required to provide. In what I now understand to be a naïve view of what “policy” means. I believed that if the policy that I dutifully honored and complied with in all respects called for providing support to my students, then that support would be provided. Otherwise, why have the policy?

By the end of that year I had completed my fifth years as a principal. I have always been one for five year cycles and my disenchantment with what I perceived as the superintendent’s unethical actions became the tipping point for a decision –it was time for a change. I began to make plans for leaving education to do something else. I considered law school –something I had seriously looked at as an undergrad in university. I also applied to medical schools at 33 years of age. Most medical schools would not consider me because of my age, but there was a medical school in St. Lucia that would take me. In the end it was one of my M.Ed. professors at OISE / University of Toronto who suggested I do a doctorate in education. I laughed at the suggestion when he first made it. Me? A doctorate? I don’t think so. But that is what I ended up doing. But, to this day nothing gets me fired up more than encountering situations where ethical postures like “best interests of students” get propped up as a veil to obscure primitive organizational agendas or for reasons of fiscal expediency.

Analysis:

Step 1: Interpretation of the Problem (ethic of critique)

I can see now that I had failed to properly understand the perspectives of key stakeholders in this situation. I naively thought the superintendent and the school district were focused by the same in-school, student-oriented agendas I had. I did not realize the extent to which broader organizational and political agendas might exist. I thought we were in accord on objectives and means, and that the policy accurately and literally conveyed the ends and means of meeting the needs of special education students. As a relatively new principal I was aware that some of the larger urban schools often seemed to get more than their due share of resources from the district, but I did not fully appreciate that many of the principals of those schools were every bit as good as me in chasing down those resources.

The conflict or tensions that developed over this situation spilled over a number of arenas of practice. My personal and professional belief systems both gave me the drive and energy to assertively pursue what I interpreted as the best interests of the school. I had also become accustomed to the good will and benevolence of senior district administrators, accorded to a relatively new principal who seemed to be going out of his way to champion their initiatives and policies. I was used to winning. Also, compared to the situation today, the parents were not strong players in this process. There were no strong advocacy groups. The teachers and I were the main advocates for the parents and student.

My personal and professional efforts to bring this matter to a head apparently created tensions for the superintendent and for the school district. I now understand how the new demands for accountability emanating from intensified social expectations for schools created a lot of pressure on the district. This was a relatively turbulent time for educators and school administrators. The demands associated with identifying and documenting the needs of students with special needs was rebalancing the allocation of professional time in schools, and straining the finances of the school district in ways that had not been encountered before, but certainly have become common since that time. The district special education policy was created in response to this pressure and promised to meet the needs of all students as the law demanded. I as a school principal made the mistake of interpreting that policy literally –resources were promised if particular conditions were met. I did not realize that this policy was as much a political response to pressure from the community as it was document to guide the professional actions of educators in the system.

Step 2: Towards a Humane Response (ethic of care)

Although I was typical of principals of that era in the sense that my instructional leadership was focused by programs, curriculum documents, and district initiatives, I was also very conscious that it was my professional duty to protect the best interests of my students. This seemed to come naturally to me as a principal with teaching responsibilities. In many respects that was my professional meta-value – the best interests of students. Plus, at a personal level, I have always had a competitive streak as well as an entrepreneurial bent. In my role as principal of this small rural school, I easily saw myself as its champion.

With the benefit of hindsight, I believe the superintendent was also well intentioned in terms of the needs of students, at least for the first part of the year. When the budgeted money was all expended and it became obvious that the distribution of resources across the district was uneven and that a whole lot more funds were needed, he was increasingly backed into a corner. And I was raising the stakes by insistently pointing out that he was required by law to provide the support I was requesting to the school according to the terms of a policy of which he was primary author.

I should add that there was no history of interpersonal conflict between us. To the contrary, he had always been supportive of me, and I of him until that time. I would say that we trusted each other. The circumstance that ultimately made this issue so pressing was the fact that there was a little boy whose educational needs hung in the balance. It started off as a professional matter, deteriorated to a fiscal matter that became stalemated, and ultimately was resolved by direct administrative action. The student’s needs were ultimately met, but that came out of my hide and, in my perception, to the detriment of the school culture, staff morale and overall effectiveness of the school’s operations.

Step 3: Ethical Action (ethic of justice)

In hindsight, the school district obviously became ensnared by the terms of a special education policy that it had developed for itself. Nobody anticipated the high number of students that would ultimately be identified as having special needs –something like 20% of the district enrollment. On the other hand, the superintendent allowed resources to be distributed unevenly across the district. Some schools, like mine, got nothing. Other schools, typically the larger urban ones, received large amounts of support. Not only were resources and benefits not maximized, the special needs of small rural schools were ignored.

While the student from my school ultimately had his needs met, at least partially, my rights to a reasonable amount of administrative relief time were compromised. In effect I was hoisted on my own petard. After spending most of the year championing this student’s needs, I was invited to provide the solution for meeting them myself. Everybody was in agreement on the “ends” of this policy –meeting the needs of students with special needs. But when the “means” got scarce and I kept pushing the matter, as a subordinate in the organization I became vulnerable to having responsibility for the whole problem downloaded on me. I felt personally betrayed in that my “good intentions” and conscientiousness were being punished, but organizationally I now realize that I had left my superintendent with no other recourse; if indeed there was no more funding available.

The Struggle between Power and Caring: Will/Can There be Balance?

The Struggle between Power and Caring:
Will/Can There Be a Balance? By: Samantha, Professor of Education

This is a story about power and caring. The players include the administration of the university, the colleges of Education and Professional and Continuing Education and the Educational Leadership Department; the Educational Leadership doctoral faculty and program facilitator; and, ultimately and most importantly, the doctoral students in Educational Leadership. The dilemma involves the impact of economics linked to poor financial decisions by the top administration and the economic downturn of United States society as they affect program, professional, and personal integrity and ethics. The concern arises from the ways in which the difficulties are dealt with, i.e., how processes are put into place to ameliorate the problems; and whom they benefit, whom they harm, and why. It is a deeply personal story addressing the tensions between personal and professional ethics. It also presents a question I never thought I would ask: Is it possible for an ethic of care to function as the basis of decision making and relationships in an organization driven by economic “success”? If so, what compromises need to be made, and will the organization make concessions to care in the light of possible economic loss or delayed economic gain? Finally, what is the cost to a caring individual, personally and professionally, to live by an ethic of care where community building and relationships are rhetoric rather than practice?

Background

The doctoral program in Educational Leadership began over a decade ago at a mid-size university with the mission of serving educators in the semi-rural and low SES urban areas in the region. Faculty with degrees from primarily research institutions were hired to develop and work in the program. Three years ago there were seven faculty members to serve approximately 80 students on the main campus, and one off-site campus. At the beginning of the summer 2008, students totaled almost 160, including two off-campus sites, with another starting in January 2009, increasing the number of students to 190; projected number of dissertations is 70, Spring 2009 and 100, Spring 2010. In June 2008, there were two full-time faculty, one two-thirds time, two three-quarter time, and the department chair expected to chair dissertations. Vacated faculty lines are not being filled.

Two years ago, the University commissioned the start of the College of Professional and Continuing Education (CPCE), which has become the base for all off-campus graduate courses and programs, as well as all non-degree courses and/or workshops. This college developed because of the need for increased revenue to offset University budgetary losses resulting from land purchases that have not yielded the income intended, and student housing construction problems. The intent, as well, for CPCE revenue is to limit increases in undergraduate tuition and fees, and to freeze tuition for graduate and doctoral courses (doctoral course tuition is the highest in the state). This narrative addresses CPCE only in terms of its connection to degree programs.

The provost arrived at the University two years ago, instigated CPCE, and brought the temporary dean of CPCE with him from his former university. The provost met with the Educational Leadership faculty to explain the benefits of working with CPCE with regard to offering the doctoral program in off-site locations, that is, the benefits in terms of profit sharing. After that meeting, we met with the College of Education (COE) dean and CPCE temporary dean to detail the working relationship. The primary concern for faculty centered on putting courses and, eventually, the whole program, totally online. Much discussion ensued, during which time the doctoral faculty questioned the pedagogical wisdom of totally online courses and, especially, putting the entire doctoral program online (the doctoral program was the particular target since it had shown much success and there was already the promise of off-campus delivery to central state K-12 administrators and intense interest in establishing a community college cohort central or north in the state). The doctoral faculty agreed to working with hybrid online courses, that is, 60% online and 40% face-to-face. The doctoral faculty were pressured—despite the administration’s denial of this—to sign a Memo of Understanding (MOU) with CPCE. Since that time, 1 ½ years ago, many demands have been made by the staff of CPCE regarding the delivery of courses (8 weeks instead of 16, all online as of fall 2010, adjuncts to chair dissertations and deliver online coursework). Finally, the mandate is that all graduate programs must be self-sufficient; however, despite requesting information for over a year, we have not received a breakdown of the costs of the programs (everything is included, salaries, phone, paper, advertising, graduate assistants, travel, etc.). When profit sharing is seen in that light, there are little, if any, monies for anything but the essentials.


The Problem

A doctoral colleague and I have been removed from the doctoral program and re-assigned to the MA in Higher Education and the MA in Educational Administration, respectively. That act was not anticipated by either of us, nor was the new department chair or the outgoing department chair aware of that impending action. We were each called separately to the dean’s office to receive the “news”. When asked why this was occurring, she told each of us that she was going to fix the dysfunctionality within the program and among the faculty, and this was her way of doing so. Each of us asked for specific data, but was denied any explanation other than generalities, e.g., other faculty came to her about our dysfunctionality, students came to her, etc., and that was disturbing the effectiveness of the program (despite students recruiting others to the program and the program’s doubling in the last three years).
Incidents that May Have Lead To this Action.

1 At the spring meeting of the University Assembled, the President of the University presented the 5-10 year strategic plan. During the Q & A session, I noted that no mention was made of graduate education and asked what the plans were for that. He was taken aback, then responded that graduate education was only a service and that monies would not be taken at the expense of undergraduate education to support graduate education. I responded that it is my understanding that university status is dependent upon graduate programs, specifically doctoral programs. He agreed and said that they needed to be self-sufficient. End of response.

A while later, he embedded what he called a “white paper,” into a report of the committee tasked with writing and posting the strategic plan on the University website. If you were not aware of this paper, you most likely would have missed it. However, a doctoral student employed in the University alerted my colleague to it, and she told the department faculty about the paper and where to find it. The document stated that graduate programs were only a service to people in the region, that the people who wanted graduate courses were not “like us” in that they only wanted credit or degrees and weren’t interested in substance, and other demeaning comments. My colleague mentioned the paper to a doctoral student who, with another student, got the word out to other doctoral students, some of whom wrote or emailed the President, protesting his comments. One student’s files were taken from our office by the dean of our college; I do not know what happened. One of my students did receive a response from the President, which she felt skirted the issues.

My colleague and I were called to the dean’s office and questioned about how students found out about the “white paper”; it could be retrieved by various “clicks” from the University home page. We basically were told to keep our students “under control” and if students had questions, to invite the President to our classes. My colleague did that. The doctoral students asked tough questions and made him aware of 1) the doubling in growth of the doctoral program in three years and 2) the doctoral faculty’s decrease to half of what it had been three years ago, information he was surprised to hear! He said that when he wrote the paper, he didn’t even think about the doctoral program. It is the only doctoral program on campus, is most successful, and he is virtually unaware of it.

2 There have been continuous difficulties with the doctoral program and CPCE. Although we signed the MOU in good faith that there would be further discussion of issues as we moved forward, there have been changes made to it, without consult with faculty, that are now expected of the doctoral program and faculty. We must agree that the program being offered online and through CPCE is exactly the same program we offer on campus. True, the courses are the same, but the faculty who are putting the courses online are two three-quarter time persons who have not taught doctoral courses prior to this, will teach the online course once if they choose to, and then turn them over to adjuncts. Furthermore, CPCE has now mandated that all but two courses, one research course and the proposal course, will be taught in 8 week-sessions.

The facilitator or the doctoral program met with CPCE staff and agreed to the demands, despite the remaining faculty members’ disagreement and requests to meet with the CPCE staff to explain why the courses should not be taught in 8 weeks (as well as why all the courses should not be taught 100% online, especially since the initial agreement was a hybrid of online and face-to-face). My colleague and I were out-spoken about how this delivery could not possibly be conceived as pedagogically sound. The facilitator reiterated the efficiency and financial “effectiveness” while we strongly suggested that the integrity of the program is at stake. Our “complaints” were taken directly to the dean and we are seen as dysfunctional members of the faculty.

3 In the spring semester we had a program review, for which we had no input regarding the program reviewer or the process. The facilitator chose the reviewer, a friend, had a graduate student compile data concerning the program (number of students matriculated, number of years to finish, dissertations completed and length to do so, etc., much of which was inaccurate), and gave us the dates the reviewer would be here and the dates the reviewer would “help” us re-structure the program based on her review. We were aghast. When we objected to the process, the facilitator reported directly to the dean; we were viewed as dysfunctional “team” members. When the program reviewer was unable to keep the date for the re-structuring session, the facilitator gave us another date. The entire doctoral faculty responded they could not attend because of other obligations; the facilitator had the dean email us strongly encouraging us to “cooperate”. (Another date was chosen because too many other people would have been affected had we all had to re-schedule our prior commitments.)

4 My colleague and I have objected to adjuncts teaching because they tend to be hired with little or no time to prepare prior to the beginning of the semester. Additionally, the adjuncts we’ve had have had little background in research; the students who have had them are complaining because they are lost when they begin to work on their dissertations. Additionally, to hire adjuncts to teach the proposal course, which is the dean’s intent for this semester, is not appropriate because we have a unique dissertation, one that is focused on the student’s study of her leadership through an action research project (in virtually all cases) that is the lens through which her leadership is assessed. That is, the dissertation is really two studies: the assessment of a change project to improve the goals of the organization and the assessment of leadership through the ways in which the student leads the change.

5 My colleague and I also have been outspoken in our concern regarding adjuncts chairing dissertations. There are excellent adjuncts, but they are not required to be here other than for the courses they teach and may leave the University at any time, thus, potentially putting students in a precarious position. They, often, do not have a strong foundation in research, particularly action research. The intent of CPCE is to staff the online courses with adjuncts. The totally online program, additionally, brings into question the “need for” a dissertation. The on-campus program will receive no new full-time faculty, may receive three-quarter time faculty, and is encouraged to find adjuncts for courses.

Where Are We Now?

Because so many doctoral courses are unstaffed due to my colleague’s and my removal from the program and because of the number of students we now have, the dean has allowed each of us to teach one course in the program. The department chair scheduled me for a course I usually teach in the fall; the facilitator, upset because she wanted to teach it (she usually teaches it in the spring), spoke with the dean and I am now scheduled to teach a different course (which is fine, but is a new prep). I also am scheduled to teach a course in the MA in Administration Program, a new prep for me. Furthermore, the course is not filled and there has been vigilant monitoring to assure courses have a minimum number of students before they are allowed to meet; the doctoral faculty are always threatened with having a course closed because at this time students have not registered (students routinely register at the last minute to delay tuition payment). There is little chance this section will be filled, but the department chair has been guaranteed that it will be taught and I will teach it. I received my course assignment for the fall with only 5 weeks before the start of the new semester. The doctoral program has at least three courses not covered, one of which, the proposal course, has 4 sections. The dean’s response is to “find good adjuncts”.

My colleague is teaching a research course (she has taught the research courses in the past) and one course in the MA in Higher Education, a position she has wanted (one course in the doctoral program and one in Higher Education), but had been denied the opportunity to teach in Higher Ed for several years. The dean’s “reasoning” in the past has been that because she was doctoral faculty on a twelve-month contract, she could not teach in a master’s program; master’s faculty, on ten-month contracts, however, could teach in the doctoral program.

Value Audit Analysis

Using Hodgkinson’s definition of a values audit, that is, taking stock of my own values through reflection on this narrative, I am aware of how important caring, professional ethics, and social justice are to me, despite or in spite of, the surrounding circumstances. In light of those ethics, this narrative addresses the ways in which this university’s administrators use power as a mechanism to control, rather than to balance power of position with an ethic of care to engender education that is in the best interests of all students, to be governed by professional ethics to seek to maintain program integrity even in times of financial turmoil, and to lead with behavior that is socially just.

The conflict of this story is twofold: the perception of the doctoral program at the University and the maintenance of the integrity of the quality of the doctoral program as it is used to generate increased revenue for the University through growth of off-campus sites. The conflict involves the dean of COE, my colleague and me. Other doctoral faculty, the doctoral facilitator, and other department members are in the midst of the turbulence. Indirectly, and ultimately, the current students, potential students, and graduates of the program have concern for how the outcomes of the situation will affect the value of their degree.

The Conflict

The obvious difficulty stems from the difference between the administration’s need to use the doctoral program to bring in revenue without apparent concern for maintaining program integrity and without consideration for how the immediate changes in the delivery affect current and potential students, as well as the effect it has for graduates of the program; and my colleague’s and my need to voice those concerns with the expectation that they would be addressed. The result was that our not being compliant, that is, questioning and not simply following the mandates, resulted in punitive actions that impact our teaching, as well as in my case, the integrity of another program, and may influence our research. Additionally, the removal from the doctoral program has concerned students because we were the only full-time faculty in the on-campus program, thus, providing stability and continuity for them.
Possible Actions

The deans have the mandate to bring in more revenue and will be evaluated in those terms. The CPCE dean was hired specifically to start a college with the primary aim of finding markets that would generate increased profit for the University. The deans of the academic colleges, some more than others (Engineering, Business), have as part of their performance evaluations the amount of money they bring in for the University. Consequently, I understand the pressure they are under regarding funding. However, in terms of the ethics of professional and caring, there is a gap between bringing in money and making sure that what is being done is in the best interests of all students, which would include doctoral students.

Dialogue would have been helpful to see what is needed and how the program could move forward, meet university needs, and maintain and improve its quality for students. That did not occur. Meetings held with the deans of COE and CPCE were controlled by them. They interpreted questions as our being non-cooperative and contentious. At the end of a meeting, we were pressured into agreeing with them, with one or the other saying that we had a choice; we did not have to comply. However, implied in that was non-agreement meant that we would receive no funding for our program. My colleague and I were ready to stand our ground because the colleges, especially CPCE, needs the doctoral program, as it has brought in more money by far in the past year than any other college’s program or courses. However, other doctoral faculty would not stand with us and were inclined to go along with what was proposed, even though there would be grumbling in our doctoral meetings.

Transparency related to decisions would be helpful. As is stands, we have been in the position of understanding one thing, then having that changed without our knowledge. For instance, we agreed to teach off-campus students using a hybrid model of online delivery. The next time we met with the deans, we were told that the program would be delivered totally online by fall 2010, even though we had an email from the COE dean stating we could teach the program using the hybrid model. When we evidenced surprise during the meeting, we were reprimanded by the dean of CPCE saying that we knew that the hybrid model was the delivery mechanism only until the whole program was online.

Maintenance of programmatic quality and reliance on appropriate and good pedagogy was never part of the conversation, although we asked the question. My colleague and I asked questions that addressed the wisdom of part-time faculty who had never taught in a doctoral program being required to put doctoral courses on line, of adjuncts who did no research teaching research courses, of adjuncts who had never participated in our dissertation process being responsible for teaching the course readying our students for their proposal writing (we have a unique dissertation), of teaching a doctoral course in eight weeks to students who work full time, of exporting our program to international sites without considerations for culture and monitoring who actually participates in the courses, of the ways in which field work would be done through online courses and who would supervise students, and, finally, how dissertations, both numbers of and chairs, would be handled. None of these were addressed. What did happen was the facilitator (this position is one of management, not decision-making; is to represent the others in meetings with the dean of COE or with staff from CPCE) reported (not requested b y the dean) to the dean whenever my colleague or I disagreed with what the dean wanted.

My colleague and I are not opposed to online courses, but believe we are rushing in without faculty expertise and without university infrastructure to support it. We have suggested that we use the hybrid model for 2-3 years, evaluate the delivery from student perspective and our perspective, then either go forward with total online courses, continue the hybrid, or determine another direction. Our concerns are simply interpreted as our being non-cooperative; other faculty members do not question in meetings with the deans.

Turbulence

There is a tremendous amount of turbulence that arises from and affects the program and
department faculty, the deans of COE and CPCE, the current students, graduates of the program, the presidents of community colleges who contracted with us to make a doctoral program available to community college leaders, and potential P-12 administrators who will begin the program in the fall. With the exception of the facilitator, the other program faculty are concerned about our not teaching in the program because of our expertise; the department faculty member have to deal with reassignment to courses in the doctoral program so that I can teach in the MA in Educational Administration program. Current students and the community college presidents are concerned with the integrity of the program and the methods by which the administration worked with us; they question what might they expect if another “controversy” occurs. The current students and graduates question the value of their degree if the program becomes totally online, even if that occurs only for off-campus sites, for the administration insists that the doctoral program is the same whether online or traditional delivery. Students beginning the P-12 cohort off-campus are confused, saying they were not aware that the program would be delivered totally online; many would not have signed up for it had they known. COE and CPCE deans view my colleague and me as dysfunctional.

Intrapersonal Conflict

My conflicts revolve primarily around an ethic of care: how does caring in this situation affect the students, the administration, and me? I believe in doing what is in the best interest of students. They want a degree for personal and professional reasons—knowledge, status, power---all of which have the potential if used appropriately, to work toward a more socially just and democratic society. Without caring, I do not believe that can be achieved. In this particular instance, my concern was for democratic education and social justice, neither of which were addressed or even alluded to. I tried to foster a democratic process through my questions that related to what is best for students and through requests to meet with CPCE staff members who continually seemed to be at odds with our thinking. Both tactics seemed only to exacerbate the situation by angering the deans and encouraging the doctoral facilitator to increase her covert support of the administrative proposals, perhaps because she was going up for promotion and needed the dean’s recommendation. Her continuous reporting my challenges and alternatives to the proposed actions of the administration served to annoy the dean who, then, saw my colleague and me as impeding the process and, thereby, as dysfunctional members of the program. Was our delivery too assertive—or aggressive? I honestly believed there was room for dialogue when the process began, but realized shortly after that the meetings with the deans were of two types neither of them favorable to dialogue. If we asked for a meeting, we needed to provide an agenda with reasons behind our concerns; the deans, then prepared responses for which there was, in reality, no room for debate or discussion. The other type of meeting consisted of being told by the deans we were to report for a meeting: no agenda, no discussion of time and date, and a presentation of what would be. At each of these meetings, we were asked if we agreed and told we could disagree. When I did, I learned quickly that there was no point as I wasn’t heard; the administrators simply reiterated their case and said we didn’t have to comply (implied threats of limited or no funding).

At one meeting, I tried to foster a compromise. We were stymied regarding how to handle dissertations is we admitted the number of students discussed and if we went to a totally online program for off-campus cohorts. At issue was signing the Memorandum of Understanding, which we were reluctant to do without the dissertation concerns resolved. My suggestion was to sign the MOU in good faith with the agreement we would re-visit the dissertation dilemma. The deans were pleased, and my colleagues, after some discussion regarding a guarantee to revisit this, signed the MOU. Needless to say, I have lived to regret that attempt at “compromise,” for changes have been made to the agreement without out input. The stock response is, “But you signed the MOU.” Since that signing, changes continue to occur, including totally online delivery, eight-week courses, adjunct delivery of online courses using templates developed by part-time staff, and the recurring comments about doing away with a dissertation. How could that be in the best interests of students? Was I too naïve, hoping to establish common ground—trust?—between the faculty and administration?

Through this whole experience, I’ve learned that speaking out, having voice, is punishable if what is said is not “in line” with administrative thinking. Do I become silent, or do I continue to question, challenge, and attempt to establish dialogue, and become susceptible to punitive measures? Will my punishments serve student needs, or will they actually take away from their best interests?

As much as I do not want to deal with the reality of budget, I understand that is a given. The administrators, from the president and provost to the deans, are under great pressure from the board of trustees to limit the debt encumbrances. Performance evaluations, therefore, in part, influence tenure at the University, depending on progress toward limiting debt and bringing in money through grants, increased enrollment, or innovative workshops or courses that draw people to campus. I can understand the priority those people put on revenue. However, I cannot believe that bringing in money has to be the driving force of the University. If the administrators saw the big picture, that is, education for students, how could they not think first of what students need and how we then move simultaneously to meet the needs and find ways to fund them? Administrators did not ask our students to suggest what they would be willing to do, give up, or consider in order to maintain quality in the program, as well as to increase the numbers of students in it. However, before that could happen, the issue of what is best for all students would need to be addressed, as the top administrators have decided that undergraduate education is the focus of the university and graduate education is only a service, as needed, to people in the region. My feeling is this is a social justice issue. The institution became a “university” because of the graduate programs, specifically because of the one and only doctoral program. The latter has gained a creditable reputation which the administrative body simply wants to use to increase revenue, but for which there is little support or recognition. This is not a balance of power and caring leadership.

Finally, I question caring in terms of caring for me. How much should I be willing to sacrifice on a personal and professional level for the best interests of students? Professionally, I’ve been put into a position of working with master’s level students going into K-12 administration. I have never been a K-12 administrator and chose not to get a PhD in that area. The people who must now teach in the doctoral program are former K-12 administrators with the practice and/or research to support their teaching. My focus is ethics, social policy, and theoretical perspectives of leadership. It is not the nuts and bolts of the principalship, New Jersey educational law, or school organization. I will have to devote much more time to class preparation, at the expense of research and personal time, in order to provide the best teaching for students because I’ve not taught the courses nor have I read the material. I will have to become involved in credentialing, which has not been part of my position to this point. Contact with doctoral students will be minimal, so there will be less opportunity for me to work with dissertation students whose work I know; which is a part of my work that I particularly enjoy.

As I write this section, caring for me, I feel physically disturbed. Is it legitimate for me to feel this way, or am I just whining? Perhaps this is why my research focuses on care of the self---what is it and is it “deserved”? What is meant by care for others as one cares for self? Is that an aspect of social justice we overlook?

Note: This narrative was authored by Samantha, Professor of Education, and posted by the blog administrator.

The Girl in the Pretty Pink Dress

The Girl in the Pretty Pink Dress
By: Marla Susman Israel, Ed.D. Assistant Professor Loyola University Chicago

The Setting:
Before I was a university professor in educational leadership, I was an early childhood center principal. The center I led, which was part of the public school system, contained approximately 350 children ages 3 – 5 years old. Over 80% of the children came from homes of poverty and 90 % of the children were of color. In contrast, the faculty was ethnically, racially and economically diverse. We prided ourselves on serving the whole child and the whole family. Registration was completed by proving residency in the community through a rental lease, electrical bill or social service agency agreement. The parents’ legal status in the country was never questioned. Parents were never asked to provide information about their own past. Our goals were threefold: 1) to provide the highest quality of early childhood learning experiences possible; 2) to ensure that all children who graduated from our program were ready to be successful upon entering kindergarten; and 3) to ensure that all children and their families were treated with respect and dignity, regardless of past or present circumstances.

After five years of being the school principal, I was a well-known entity in the community and with the local police force. Family members were issued a picture ID when their child entered the program and they knew that it had to be presented each time they entered the facility. Guests could only enter the building by providing a photo ID. Weapons and drugs were not tolerated - nor were gang colors or the flashing of signs. These rules were enforced fairly and were respected by all. The police had been called three times during my tenure to assist in the enforcement of these rules. The community’s police chief and I were on good terms. He believed in early intervention and family support as the most effective way to ensure a safe community for the future.

An important tradition at the early childhood center was the annual winter pageant. At the winter pageant, the children would perform songs and dances for their families. The “acts” were low key and everyone was a star. After the performance, we would all go into the multi-purpose room where the faculty and I would serve every person in attendance a home-cooked meal. We would then all break bread together and be grateful for this special occasion. Each year, the faculty and children would truly look forward to this experience. Parents and grandparents would attend. Children who had very little would arrive for this event in their holiday best. Families, who had very hard lives, for a few hours, could enjoy their children and the company of others in a safe and nurturing environment.

The Incident:
It was the Winter Pageant of 2003. As the principal, I was greeting the attendees, helping backstage, and acting as the master of ceremonies. I was on the stage, with a group of squirming four and five-year-olds behind me. I was about to introduce the children and their teacher. As I looked out onto the beaming faces in the audience, I saw at the back of the room the father of one of the children who was on the stage with me. She too saw her father. And with her perfect smile, in her pretty pink dress, she waved to her daddy who was standing there. Since she was standing on the stage in the front row, and was so incredibly sweet-looking, everyone else turned to smile at the person who was receiving such a warm welcome. As they turned, they saw her father. He was a reputed gang-member who was wanted by the police for questioning concerning a violent crime that had recently occurred in the community. But to the girl in the pretty pink dress, she was her daddy who had come to see her in the winter pageant – and she was ecstatic.

The winter pageant went on without incident. The girl in the pretty pink dress ate dinner with her grandparents and her father amongst the community. The grandparents carried their grandchild out the door and to their car, the father following along. I watched this father, this reputed gang-member and possible felon, kiss his little girl good-night, and put her into the car with her grandparents. The grandparents took the girl in the pretty pink dress home. The father drove away in his car. I noted the make of the car and license plate number. Once he left the parking lot, I then called the police.

The Values Audit:
As an educator who has worked extensively with minority populations and young children, I often begin my deliberations with voices unheard. Therefore, I will begin there as a starting point for my analysis. Research and common sense tell us that all individuals need to feel safe from harm. This desire for safety is most critical for young children whose lives are invariably controlled by adults. Likewise, minority populations in this country, a country that is currently fearful of “the other”, need to feel safe in order to be able to function at all. The conflict surrounding the girl in the pretty pink dress turned on the issue of how these unheard voices defined safety.

The families in the center knew that this was a place where their pasts were not questioned. Immigration status, prior police records and prior mistakes were not the point of entry into the center for these families. Admission into the center symbolized a fresh start for these parents and their young children. At the same time, the families also trusted that their young children would be safe from physical harm in the center. The father at the back of the room was a reputed gang-member and possibly involved in a violent crime. However, in this country, one is innocent until proven guilty. Yet, by protecting this foundational claim for this father, I was possibly jeopardizing the immediate physical safety of every individual in attendance that night at the winter pageant. But might I not put the participants in harms way if the police were called immediately and the father reacted violently to their presence?

But I knew that not calling the police while the father was in the center was surely going to damage my relationship with the police force - damage that could have grave repercussions for the future. However, I believed that if I called the police, real pain would occur to the girl in the pretty pink dress. Experience had shown me the destruction of worth that a child experiences when seeing his or her parent dragged away in handcuffs. The question was not whether or not to call the police, the question was at what point in time the call to the police would produce the least amount of harm.

As an administrator in 2003, as I applied the values stated within my professional code to this situation turbulence resulted. As I pondered my next steps, I believed that the following two values as stated within the American Association of School Administrators’ Statement of Ethics (1981) were in direct conflict with one another:
Makes the well-being of students the fundamental value of all decision-making and actions; and,
Supports the principle of due process and protects the civil and human rights of all individuals.

And now as a professor of educational leadership, as I retell this story to my university students and to this blog, I believe the following values from the UCEA Draft Code 2 (Feb. 2008) are in direct conflict with one another within this situation:
Model ethical behavior for others; and,
Value and respect the intrinsic worth of individuals both personally and within multiple communities.

In 2003, I had to decide what type of safety was most valued at that moment and for whom. I chose one child’s well-being over the possible physical harm that could have occurred that night to all the people within the center. I chose respect for one father over possible future harm to the community. I chose to protect the culture of respect and dignity for families trying to create a new life over the obligations I had to the police force that had come to the protection of these very same families in years past.

In a post 911 world, to choose to uphold our basic present values over safety from possible harm in the future is not a popular choice. However, it was the choice I made then. It is a choice that current school administrators must make each day as they create policy to keep their students safe – the individual versus the group, the present values versus a future fear. It is a choice that must be discussed continually as we try to make sense of today’s world.


This post was authored by Marla Israel, Ed.D., and posted by the blog administrator.

All Things to All People

Once my children were of school-age, I decided it was time to pick up the threads of my own teaching career and actively searched for a teaching job again. My context was Ontario, Canada having just moved there from another province. The time was the late nineteen seventies when the public school system in the area was in a declining position – too many young teachers and not enough retirees. No jobs were available and thus I turned to the private system to see what possibilities there might be. I eventually got a job in a private clinic and school that specialized in programming for children with learning disabilities. I became very interested in this area, pursued a specialist and a master’s degree in special education, taught there quite happily for a few years as a teacher and was then offered the position of becoming a teaching administrator and a partner in this enterprise. Finding myself as a partner in a private school was not something I had anticipated as a former public school teacher. But, I took up this new challenge with relish. However, now as an administrator I was involved in setting fees and I was quickly dismayed that our fee structure had to be quite significant just to make ends meet – pay our staff, pay the rent and purchase teaching resources as needed. It was the wealthy clients who could primarily afford our service as there was quite a low pupil-teacher ratio. There was also a small group of parents who made significant sacrifices to send their children – valuing education over their own needs quite obviously. There were no subsidies available to offer clients who could not afford the service. The centre was well respected with students making very good gains. I rationalized the fact we had to charge the dollars we did as despite our fees, I was not personally taking a salary that compared to what I would make in the public system. We were making different kinds of sacrifices as employees to serve kids well. Truth be told, we also had different levels of autonomy and creativity in our programming as well.

I did not feel we really competed with the public system. Rather, it seemed that the public system was having a hard time being all things to all people. The stories we heard from parents indicated that they were looking for a much more personalized education – one which gave their children with learning disabilities hope and self confidence. There were many private schools around us – some ivy league and some small private enterprises like ours. At that time, quality control by the Ministry of Education was limited and only those schools which offered credits were inspected.

By the late eighties, the job market had opened up in the public system and I was ready for a change – a change in opportunity, a change in salary, a change in which I could return to a setting where all kids could be served. I rejoined the public system as a diagnostic and resource teacher and soon began a fortunate career in this setting, moving from teacher to vice principal, principal and superintendent. I completed a doctorate in educational administration in 2004 – focussing my own research on the complexities of collaborative work in a large school system. Large systems have many contradictions to deal with – more resources and many more challenges including how to help people work together in effective ways.

The challenge for me as an individual is to reconcile that at times, in the large system that I am now a part of, we are not able to personalize the education for many children in the way I was able to in a small private system. I am a more fortunate employee as a public servant but now lack the autonomy or creativity I had as private school administrator. The question I continue to wrestle with is what kind of a learning environment best serves students. The one clear advantage I had as a teacher in a private learning clinic was to develop a strong bond with each of my students and to know them really well – their strengths, weaknesses and interests. I would not see more than five to ten students at a time. The students had individual learning plans which were reviewed often. On-going assessment did drive our instruction as adjustments were made on a daily basis. And, as parents were clear advocates for an excellent education …..they were, of course, paying privately after paying their taxes, there was a clear accountability factor for me, as well.

As I consider how my experience as a private school administrator intersects with my public school experience, I acknowledge that the conflict I feel is an intrapersonal one – one which makes me question what the value added piece within large systems as opposed to smaller ones. What do we gain in the way we congregate our weaker students and what do we lose. There is not a clear cut answer in a large public system as to how to personalize education for all children. Our classes are diverse as is the expertise of our teaching staff. I love the bustle of a large school and the spirit that arises when forty adults work with students and create a warm and inviting school community. However, success is not guaranteed for every child in many public schools. Children who have the label of learning disability are often perceived as less able and expectations may not be set as high as they should be. History has shown us that kids do fall between the cracks. Mediocrity can survive in many settings unless there is a clear moral imperative to improve the school culture and student achievement for all students including those with learning differences. Unions often imprint expectations about teacher working conditions that impact student learning conditions and large systems create structures that shape relationships. By contrast, I did find that in a small private setting with a closely knit staff, the relationship with parents and students became quite an intense and closely tracked affair. Results were anticipated and expected while different pressures are felt.

Perhaps the issue is that there is no “best” setting but a need to create settings around the needs of our students and the price of this kind of a setting varies. Ultimately, we need public systems to become “all things to all people” and to develop the kind of flexibility and creativity to serve students in optimal ways. Finally, it appears that on a personal level, rationalization can become a coping mechanism and a way of integrating conflicting value orientations.


This submission was authored by Beate Planche, Ed.D. and posted by the blog administrator.

Who Should Enter the Profession and for What Reasons?

My first year as a junior professor of educational leadership and policy studies at a Midwestern university provided me with an experience that serves as the basis for the title of this essay (“critical incident”). As part of a supervision of instruction class that I teach on a regular basis, I assign a group project where students are challenged to work together to develop a white paper. The white paper deals with advocating for a comprehensive, effective, and differentiated supervision and evaluation system to a specifically targeted audience. The goals of this assignment are manifold, but one important aspect is to get aspiring school leaders to think and work together in collaborative and constructive ways to develop a significant policy advocacy manuscript. This is no small task. In groups of four, and sometimes five, students wrestle with negotiating what to write, what form the paper should take, how to write in a dramatically different way than what they are accustomed to, and of course, figuring the division of labor. I’ve developed an assessment of this group work that is fairly sensitive; so this tool adds tension to the assignment. As you can see, this assignment is also a test of character. From my point of view, this is one of the most important, non-explicit learning goals in the course and presses students to behave as a leader would behave with other leaders.

One student, to remain entirely anonymous, had great difficulty with the assignment and ultimately with the group they worked with. My first indication that the assignment would stretch this person was their intense questioning about the assessment instrument I use to appraise group work for this assignment. Several weeks later I was contacted by another student who shared group membership with “the student.” I was then contacted by “the student.” Both requested an office meeting for the entire group in order to bring some clarification to what I was expecting from group members and the assignment itself. To my knowledge, at the time, both my explanation of the appraisal instrument and follow-up office meeting provided the necessary insight, clarity and guidance for the group to continue with their work.

It was not until the final week of the semester that I was contacted by the associate dean of my college. He told me that a student in my supervision of instruction class, “the student” (he shared their name with me), filed a terroristic threat report against another student in class to university police claiming that another student in the group said they were going to kill me (supposedly because of the challenging group assignment they were dealing with in my class). When I first heard this from the dean, I was in complete disbelief, but soon after the university police and a university detective interviewed me about the report that was filed by “the student” against another student they were supposedly working with to complete the white paper. I was interrogated. I explained to the university law enforcement that in no uncertain terms did I believe the report had merit. I knew the accused student – an advanced doctoral student with many years of professional public school experience and held in high regard throughout the department – and I felt terrible about what was about to happen to them. I was equally infuriated with “the student” who would do such a thing, knowing that for the next several weeks the accused would be dramatically inconvenienced at best and undergo accusation, investigations, scrutiny and emotional pain at worst.

Unfortunately the latter occurred. The accused student had to suffer through multiple police inquiries and several meetings even though I insisted she did nothing, or had any kind of motive, to deserve the accusation. College administration was immensely supportive throughout the entire process, but appeared to be more concerned about the damaged caused to the accused than addressing and confronting the accuser. This process occurred over an entire week.

These days, once a report of this kind is made on a university campus, there is follow through; and “the student” accuser knew that! Because of this fact, “the student” accuser conveniently left the country while the investigation was underway. It was the end of the semester anyhow.

We (college administration, department head, university law enforcement and I) made every effort to console and assure the accused student that they would not be affected, either programmatically or by the accusing student, beyond the terrible incident they had to live through. With the grace and courage so typical of the accused student, and with cheeks wet with tears, they openly accepted our consolation and assurances with one proviso – that we not mention or communicate in any way what had transpired to “the student” accuser – a false and lying manipulator. We accepted the condition. The accused did not want “the student” to have the satisfaction of realizing the terrible ordeal they had caused. This interesting insight was no doubt a result of the accused having to work with and deal with “the student” accuser in a small group. In later conversations with the accused doctoral student, I realized the incredible ordeal it was to work with “the student” in a way that would produce some kind of work product to be submitted for evaluation.

Can all this mess come from an aspiring school leader? What kind of a person was I trying to prepare for one of the most important jobs in the country? I continued to have interactions with “the student,” but I found myself having difficulty dealing with someone with the kind of moral character that was more suited for black market mafia. “The student” completed our program of study, took a master’s degree, acquired state certification to be a building-level principal, and who knows what harm they’re doing! To me, this issue is a problem on multiple fronts, but particularly a moral problem for school leader educators, the university divisions they are housed within, and the profession as a whole.

Audit

How can this story and the following analysis play a role in the moral pedagogy of our profession? Before proceeding to the audit I would like to share the following cogent analysis by a professional colleague working in my academic unit.

Professional membership in education (at all levels – if one is to be called an educator) should become normative in a way that membership in other occupations does not! Tomas Green (1987) reminds us that “the term ‘professional ethics’ is a redundancy.” If a person is incapable of performing according to the standards of the profession, then it makes no sense to say that s/he is a member of that profession; the profession, in effect, denies that person’s claim to membership. And this incapacity can be either a matter of skill and knowledge, or one of understanding and judgment. Either will serve to disqualify a claimant for legitimate professional membership. One lacking in the commitments proper to a profession is not a member of that profession.

Quote taken from Covaleskie, J. F., & Howley, A. “Education and the commons: Issues of “professionalization.” Educational Foundations, 8, 4, 59-73.

Citation taken from Green, T. F. (1987). The conscience of leadership. In L. T. Sheive & M. B. Schoenheit (Eds.), Leadership: Examining the elusive. (pp. 105-115). Reston, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.

1. The stakeholders in the story are obvious. College administration was immensely supportive throughout the entire process, but accepting the condition of the accused student relinquished any kind of student judiciary process, or other psychological support and/or disciplinary measure, that could have cut short the accusers path toward leading a public institution. Even if the accused student would have been open to investigating the incident further or filing counter charges of some kind, I wonder if the program, college or university would have been prepared to respond in some constructive manner to a student with, what I believe to be, severe character flaws. Additionally, I wonder why we allowed this student into the program in the first place! We need to do a better job interviewing people who want to learn the tools to be an education administrator, let alone try to discover an elusive leadership.

2. Interpersonal conflict with institutional ramifications.

3. There was commitment to doing harm, commitment to not responding to harm in order to cut it short and hopefully end it, commitment to help and care, commitment to get to the truth, commitment to self-examine the effectiveness of our program admission practices (at least on a personal level).

4. Although individual rights were violated – false accusation (for whatever motivation), rights were also upheld in assurances to protect from bodily harm. Some rights were abrogated, such as responding to your accuser.

5. All arenas of practice are relevant in this critical incident. For me, the real issue is the arena of the profession. People are people and they will err – morally err. That’s a fact. What does the profession do – the profession that prepares the profession – in order to get great people doing great work, knowing that sometimes good people do stupid, immoral, even terrible things out of character; or that “bad apples” need to be thrown out? You just can’t turn your head and wish you didn’t graduate the student.

6. I think benefit maximization was reached for most stakeholders. Maximizing benefit for the accusing student was not achieved – there needed to be a response, in my own opinion. “The student” needed to be confronted, helped and disciplined in some way. Yet I do believe honoring the accused student’s wishes takes precedence. Therefore, some parties benefit more than others. Remember, it was reasoned that the accusing student wanted satisfaction of knowing the pain and trouble they had caused, and subsequently, because of an agreement, did not become aware of any incident transpiring from their report to the police.

7. The values in conflict can be named. The values for the profession that prepares the profession can be named as well. If you’re under pressure, not trying to understand others’ points of view, sense a lack of confidence in your own abilities, fumble around at negotiating tasks, and force and manipulate others to get what you want, and then compensate by falsely accusing someone of something terrible, you really shouldn’t be leading a school!

8. The values in conflict can be named. The turbulent damage is situated immediately at the personal level. By accepting lots of academically qualified, warm, paying bodies into a preparation program, in other words, what’s good for the college/university, might not be good for the profession, ultimately! We need to do a better job interviewing people for admission to the program.

9. I am not satisfied with the ends and purposes of this story on a professional and institutional level – the means and solutions are flawed so the ends and purposes are not achieved. (Scrutinizing leader aspirants for both skill and character would improve means and solutions toward ends and purposes.) I am satisfied with the ends and purposes of this story on a self, personal and group level, for the most part. The means and solutions in response to the situation are appropriately matched to desired outcomes – especially for the accused student.

The Vermont Common Core of Learning: Process, Product, and Turbulence

The Vermont Common Core of Learning: Process, Product, and Turbulence
Steven Jay Gross,
Temple University
The Case:
This is an old event but one that still makes me wonder. In 1990 I became Chief of Curriculum and Instruction for the state of Vermont. As soon as I got to the post, the Commissioner called me into his office to describe a remarkable opportunity. I was asked to chair a new initiative called the Vermont Common Core of Learning. It was my job to identify the central ideas that all of the state’s 100, 0000 students needed to know and the skills that they needed to be able to perform.
I quickly saw the potential for trouble. For one thing our state’s culture of local control meant that ideas coming from above were automatically regarded with suspicion. Therefore, using the typical blue ribbon panel to draft the Common Core seemed a poor idea. Building on successful work already started at the University of Vermont, I supported the approach of training local people to facilitate focus forums around the state based on the model of the New England town meeting. Our central question was: ‘What do all learners need to know and be able to do in order to be successful in the 21st century?’
I was elated when the Commissioner and the state board went along with this approach. Using the focus forums, we gathered important directions for our state’s curriculum vision and reports from around the state were positive. I made it my business to lead many of these gatherings and it was powerful to see groups ranging from 30 to 120 community members work together in common purpose.
Then the trouble started. The first sign of a storm cloud came when we met with representatives of the state’s corporations. They had participated in the forums and seemed to appreciate the quality of our work. The researcher in me made the mistake of becoming exuberant over finding patterns among the growing number of focus forums. I naïvely told the group, “I can now almost predict what people will say are the four major categories of ideas they want all of our students to know.” I expected curiosity and a lively conversation. What I got was impatience. “If you can tell me what people will say, why are you still conducting these forums?” was the reply of one business executive. The Commissioner agreed. My protest that the process was critical to keeping the public engaged was barely tolerated and I left the meeting with butterflies. This episode was followed by other meetings where the Commissioner said such things as, “I am feeling trapped by this process.” Then came a newspaper editorial blasting forum results. We had run out of time. Before long, the work that my team and I believed in was considered passé by those in charge and the Department shifted its focus elsewhere.











The Values Audit:
Because I think a lot about turbulence, it may be easiest to start with Turbulence Theory as a way into this problem. First, I think that our focus forum approach was a good example of positive turbulence. By that I mean, we took a moribund issue such as statewide curriculum discussions and made it come alive by shaking up communities with a process that engaged many people who were rarely included in conversations of this type. We took a light turbulent condition (wherein few people debated the idea of statewide curriculum patterns) and raised the turbulence level to moderate. When the leaders of the Department lost patience with our work, the level shot up to severe, then extreme causing the focus forum process to end while other state-sponsored curriculum projects took its place.
Again, using Turbulence Theory, we can consider the underlying forces of stability, positionality, and cascading to go deeper. As Chief of Curriculum and Instruction for the state of Vermont, I had some authority and my support created enough stability for the innovation to launch and develop through the first several months. What I did not appreciate was how quickly stability could erode without the support of those above me. My position also colored my approach. I was deeply impressed with the level and quality of participation of community members in our forums. But the leaders of the Department had a different perspective that reflected their position. They needed to show what they considered to be results. Process to me was a kind of result. For them, it was only a route to something concrete. They seemed to feel if they did not accomplish their goals in short order, someone else could replace them who would. Finally, as one set of external power groups, in this case the business organizations, showed displeasure with our work, others joined in. The cascading of one negative opinion onto the next made it easier for the momentum against continuing the forums to gain speed. This made it easier for those at the top of the Department to lose the will to continue.
Using the Multiple Ethical Paradigms 1 I would say that I emphasized the ethics of critique, care, and the profession. I questioned the blue ribbon panel because I thought it was elitist. In that model, the public only gets to comment on the work of others, if that. The ethic of care kept me thinking of accessing all possible ideas for our curriculum and the ethic of the profession made the best interests of learners the central focus of all of our work.
I am grateful for the time that I had to pursue the Common Core focus forums. Groups including parents, community members, and young people were honored and engaged in the basic work of building Vermont’s curriculum. However, I also appreciate the fact that movements come along in their own season and that time runs out for each of them. Continuing the forums meant more than having a good idea and arguing for what was right for so many thousands of participants. Now I see the problem from other perspectives and the need to build coalitions to support this kind of innovation.

1. Space limits prevent me from a detailed discussion of the Multiple Ethical Paradigms. I would be happy to delve into that dimension should anyone in the project care to hear it

A Tie, Some Blue Cheese, and a Shiny New Plaque

Note: This is a test of the blog program

“A tie, some blue cheese, and a shiny new plaque”

It seemed like life moved in slow motion for a moment. In my mind I could hear a prolonged “NOOOOOOO” originating from my toes and stopping just shy of my vocal chords. Then it happened. A big chunk of blue cheese, right on my new tie.

“…the kind of young leadership that our organization needs,” the speaker proclaimed. Of course I did not have any clue what he was talking about. I neglected to listen to half of our band director’s awards speeches because his voice sounded like Ben Stein and my 9th grade attention span had run out about fifteen minutes ago. Besides, the end-of-the year banquet was my first and last chance to hang out with the upperclassmen and now I had salad dressing all over my first really nice tie.

“….someone that has led our group by example, by caring about what happens on and off the field,” he continued. Again, I had missed any indication that he was looking in my direction. I knew little about these annual awards but what I did know was that they were typically reserved for the brightest and the most dedicated members and I did not consider myself to be either. For the time being my tie remained my top priority as a looked for water or ice, or anything to cover it up with.

“Mark, would you like to come up and say a few words?” I heard him say. Then my date chimed in, “Yeah, go on up there, you deserve it!” And with that I hesitantly stepped toward the podium to accept my “Freshman of the Year” award.

Until middle school I had considered myself to be fairly intelligent. After several semesters in senior high my grades were little more than average. Music was perhaps the only thing that made sense to me but I certainly did not consider myself to be talented or anything close to a leader. With one award, however, everything seemed to change. Instead of wandering the hallways of Union-Endicott High School with complete anonymity, I was now considered one of the school’s most valued musicians and a budding leader. What was more? My friends, my family, the school administration and yes, even my greatest adversary was there to watch me (and my recently stained tie) accept my award.

I was heavily involved in our music department; a member of the jazz ensemble, marching band, concert band, saxophone quartet and jazz combo. Still until that evening it had always just seemed like something I did because I enjoyed it. I never considered it to be much of an academic study or a subject from which I could pursue a career. Over the next several years, however, musical accolades seemed to pour in, including being named the first sophomore drum major in school history—I may have been a clueless freshman at the time but even I knew that the school drum major was the musical equivalent of being the football team’s quarterback.

The truth was that I enjoyed the responsibility and loved being the student “face” of our department. When it came time to decide what career path I would choose in college I could not fathom a profession more rewarding than teaching music.

Five years later I became a high school band director. I have since asked my former director what factors played into his choosing me for that award. His response, although I do not remember it verbatim, was something to the effect of “You really did deserve the aware and above all the other candidates you just need a little faith in yourself.”

During my first year of teaching I created an annual award for the freshman that I view as most deserving of special recognition called the “Director’s Citation of Excellence.” Sure I consider talent and leadership, but it is mostly reserved for the quiet student who just needs a “little faith in their self.”

Impact on Self Esteem:

We can all relate to being the “new kid on the block,” the “freshman,” or the junior member of a faculty. Perhaps more than any other experiences that I recall from growing up that award gave me the self-confidence to realize that I was not just an insignificant member of a bigger organization. It reaffirmed that my actions, opinions, and talent were important and valued. Whatever sense of insecurity that was inside of me at the time seemed to fade almost instantly. I recommitted myself to leading the by example and learned to trust myself as a musician and student.

Resulting Motivational Influences:

My need for structure, acceptance, responsibility and success were all affirmed from this incident. It increased my self confidence and acknowledged that my work ethic was admired. As a result I have developed a greater self trust when presented with responsibility and charged with leadership. When given ambiguous goals I create a pathway to success and communicate my goals to those around me. When it seems as though my work is going unnoticed I am able to assure myself that the final reward will be a job well done and that is greater than temporary recognition. I am able to sustain focus for long periods of time and commit to long-term objectives. I tend to go above and beyond expectations to avoid letting others, or myself, down.

Preferred Values:

Hard work
Commitment
Self-Discipline
Multiple Intelligences
Quality
Wisdom
Loyalty
Credibility
Ownership
Success


Beliefs Formed:

As a result of that evening I belief that work ethic is as important, if not more so, than natural talent. I am not a “gifted musician” by any means, nor am I what some would consider to be a “natural born leader,” but I worked harder than most of my peers and that gave me a great advantage to obtain my goals. Although we live in a “squeaky wheels gets the oil” society I respect “quiet” leadership and tend to reward persistence as much as genuine achievement. Further, I recognize that my students, and people as a whole, can be intelligent and creative even if they do not always perform on traditional assessments and belief that success in one endeavor can be readily applied to a variety of challenges.

Behavior Enacted:

I have consciously set goals for myself and planned for success in both my own studies and the students in my classroom. I no longer fear leadership and decision making. Although it seems a cliché, I imagine myself as being successful and have learned to work backwards to formulate benchmarks for achieving my objectives. Similarly, I encourage students to organize their work in the same fashion. For those students who seem to be in need of a little “faith in them self,” I find methods of examining their strengths and applying their interests toward success in all functions in school. Perhaps most of all I make a concerted attempt to get to know all of the members of my class and not let the quiet leaders slip by unnoticed.

I still have the tie, sans blue cheese.

Mark P. Murphy
Educational Leadership
The Pennsylvania State University