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      An annual ritual each year in school districts, one in which staff are told to mark their calendars, is the half-day workshop. Depending on the state, districts are permitted a certain number of these days, which, for purposes of funding will be counted as full attendance days. The professed purpose of these days is to provide teachers with time and expertise to further “strengthen teacher practice.” What follows is a brief description of the typical workshop parameters that run in direct opposition to strengthening teacher practice:

      Purposes

      The announced purpose of these workshops is to strengthen teacher practice. In reality, the purpose of these workshops falls into three managerial purposes: program implementation; compliance regulations; the technique of the day. Although district and building administrators convince themselves that all three purposes serve the strengthening of teacher practice, in reality, they are designed to achieve a managerial purpose. In the case of program implementation, teachers are handed thick binders and checklists documenting the distribution of materials, schedules of training, list of materials, and, most importantly, procedures for documenting components of program implementation.

      The same procedures are followed for complying with governmental mandates. The distinction between both purposes is the source of the request. The source of program implementation is a professional organization. The source of compliance regulations is the county or state.

      Lastly, the purpose that has the most promise to advance teaching practice—the technique of the day—is presented a format—lecture, PowerPoint, video—that is thick on theory, thin on practices—educating, modeling, coaching—that are fundamental to learning and practicing a new teaching methodology.

      Time

      The district will publish in their calendar workshops lasting three-and-one-half hours. In reality a workshop ritual in all districts, one which few administrators will broach, is the much anticipated and thoroughly planned out luncheon at one or more of the favorite dining establishments in the community. By the time all vehicles have returned from lunch, teachers have settled into a particular training venue, and luncheon conversations are trailing off, at best, the district has two hours left to strengthen teacher practice.

      Content

      Putting aside the managerial purposes—implementation and compliance—the educational purposes and practices of new pedagogies will typically require teachers to change deep cultural beliefs about teaching and learning. For example, recent state and national standards governing science and mathematics are designed to challenge students to think, reason, and make sense of core ideas in both disciplines. The techniques governing these standards are embedded in the instructional task’s students are invited to engage in the classroom.

      The tasks laid out in these standards run directly counter to classrooms where teachers in both disciplines ask students to memorize facts or repeat already demonstrates procedures. Few teaching cultures in the country favor or practice instructional regimes that ask students to engage in the kinds of thinking prescribed in state and professional standards. In fact, quite the opposite, most teaching cultures reduce the complexities of science and mathematics to procedural exercises that replicate procedures spelled out in textbooks or worksheets.

      Rarely, would you observe in an American classroom the kinds of teaching behaviors—pressing students to justify, explain, or make meaning—that provide students with opportunities to achieve the higher-level cognitive demands written into state and national content standards.

      Design

      The parameters of workshops days—purposes, content, time—dictate a format consisting of a lot of lecturing from administrators or consultants, a lot of listening by teachers, and little time for questioning or discussions. Even when questions are asked they center on the clarification of procedural matters—timelines, form completion, supervisory responsibilities.

      Mood

      While teachers certainly feel good about time off from the classroom and the time spent with colleagues at lunch, they do not feel good about the purposes, the content, the time, and the design of the workshop day. The results on the mandatory feedback sheets will give high marks for time with their colleagues and in the comments section of the form the content and format of the workshop is summed up with the most frequent phrase: “what a waste of time.”

      Administrators brush off the expected poor reviews of the workshop. They believe they have effectively implemented the tasks associated with putting on a workshop. Although they will not admit this in public, they also believe their faculties lack the professionalism necessary for appreciating the knowledge and skills presented on workshop days. Rarely will an administrator question the purposes, content, and design of a workshops that are commonly panned by their faculties.

      In future blogs I will describe in some detail what an effective staff development program would entail. Suffice it to say, that in the decades ahead, faculties will be flooded with outside forces—new technologies, demographic changes, occupational uncertainties—that will demand dramatic changes in how we do school in this nation. The key to adjusting to these forces are effective staff development programs.

      In the last three decades, school districts throughout the country, are littered with school reform initiatives that are announced from auditorium stages on opening day and silently disappear from classrooms when teachers and students return from Thanksgiving break. You could fill a library on books written on why most school reform initiatives fail to gain a foothold in classrooms. The themes in all of these books fall into three categories: too much theory; too little resources; and too little leadership.

      Certainly, in all failed reform initiatives, one could point to one or more of these themes present in main offices and classrooms. While each theme is a necessary contributor to a reform failure, it is not sufficient to explain the total collapse of well thought out and well researched changes to how schooling is conducted in this country. The missing theme, which is right in front of the eyes of school personnel and reform advocates, is the role school routines play is success or failure of a school reform initiative.

      For over a century, schools in this nation have been designed to achieve institutional goals: standardization, documentation, accountability. These institutional goals were established at the turn of the century by a group of administrative progressives who designed a system that could process large groups of foreign immigrants efficiently. The emphasis in this system was on processing, not educating.

      The institutional process reduces the educative function of schooling to a series of school routines and structures—classrooms, periods, subjects, grades, quizzes, tests, credits—that act as the foundation for what Tyack and Cuban have termed: “The Grammar of Schooling.” The entire process is designed for winnowing student populations rather than optimizing the individual abilities, talents, and interest of diverse student populations. Most, if not all, reform initiatives are founded on theories and pedagogical techniques that are in direct opposition to the goals and functions of institutional schooling. There is not a function of the grammar of schooling—time, space, assessment, grouping of students, organizational model, places where students learn, view of knowledge, student choice—that would serve as a welcome home for theories, routines, structures, that would advance the educational goals written into most school mission statements: critical thinking, divergent thinking, evidenced based reasoning, modeling, life-long learning, collaborative learning, meaningful learning experiences.

      School administrators confronted with the reality that the routines and structures that govern main offices will marginalize the goals and substance of the any mission driven initriative have three choices: allow the initiative to disappear at the Thanksgiving break; restructure their school routines to accommodate the substance of the initiative; or, what I will term, nibble around the edges. The safest choice for school administrators is looking the other way as the remnants of the change initiative silently disappear from classrooms.

      The dangerous choice is to attempt to restructure school routines to accommodate mission driven theories and pedagogical techniques. Despite the large amounts of literature disparaging the grammar of schooling, for the most part, school communities are comfortable with the grammar of schooling, just as it is. Yes, at times, there will be issues with how a routine is being performed, but, never would a parent call for the elimination of grades, or subjects, or classrooms, or periods, or tests, or teachers. Parents, and school community members, have all been socialized into the institutional goals and processes of schooling—what worked for them, will work for their children.

      The third choice, while the most difficult and complex to orchestrate, is the sole possibly for new theories and pedagogical regimes to enter and remain in classrooms. In my books on school reform, I have written extensively on strategies administrators can orchestrate to nibble around the edges of institutional norms. Listed below is an abbreviated version of each strategy:

Strategy #1:   Author a compelling narrative

• Uses the vocabularies of the change initiative
• Composed of three parts: the situation (what is wrong); the strategy (how will do this); and, capacity (can we do this)
• Tells a compelling story (how do we describe the situation we are in)

Strategy #2:   Design a comprehensive training regime

• Educate
• Model
• Practice
• Coach
• Author
• Standardize

Strategy #3:   Redesign “Cracks in the System”

• Locate institutional systems that are not working well or would draw little attention from the school community (e.g. personnel, curriculum development)
• Redesign failed systems to accommodate goals and practices of a change initiative

Strategy #4:   Develop a continuous learning environment

• Flood the organization with latest research on teaching and learning
• Develop decentralized communication structures—teams, study groups—where groups of administrators and teachers share and discuss information (not meetings)
• Promote, design, and resource experimental approaches to teaching and learning
• Redesign teacher workspaces/working day, in ways that faculty can share their work on a daily basis.

Strategy #5:   Protect faculty from external accountably mandates or silver bullet

                       solutions

• Attempts by external governmental agencies to regulate, disrupt, or colonize a school’s internal instructional worldview should be: modified or ignored

      Nibbling around the edges of institutional norms merges two models of schooling. The first model of schooling, what I term the why of schooling, is a marketplace of ideas where administrators and teachers come together to discuss, to interpret, to test, various theories, paradigms, models of learning. The second model of schooling, what I term the how of schooling, are organizational structures and instructional regimes that execute the products of those ideas that the marketplace as determined to be the most effective. The key to nibbling around the edges of institutional norms are school leaders who orchestrate pathways into the how of institutional schooling that will accommodate an agreed upon why of schooling.

      The chief tool is employing quality teachers in the interview. Yes, of course, before the interview, the personnel department employs various criteria—experience, academic background, recommendations—to select candidates that would warrant an interview. Along with the criteria developed to select candidates for interviews, districts do develop a set of interview questions that will bring some semblance of validity and reliability to the process. The questions posed to a teacher in main offices fall into three categories: philosophical, institutional, personal. Listed below are the questions that are typically asked in each category:

Philosophical: Questions that are rarely asked

1. How do children learn?

2. What knowledge is of most worth?

3. How should knowledge be organized?

4. How should we assess what students understand?

5. HOW SHOULD WE TEACH?

Personal: Break the ice questions

1. Why did you become a teacher?

2. Why do you want to work at this school?

3. What personality traits to teachers need to be successful?

4. Can you tell me about your favorite teachers when you were a student? What qualities did they have that you try to emulate on a daily basis?

Institutional: Questions that are typically asked

1. How do you approach discipline and what role does it play in learning?

2. What do you think of technology in the classroom and how have you integrated it in your classroom?

3. How have local state and local curriculum standards affected your lesson planning process?

4. How do you approach instances of bullying?

5. What is your process for creating a lesson plan?

6. What is your grading process like?

7. How do you feel about extra credit?

8. What extracurricular activities would you feel comfortable coaching or sponsoring?

      They typical length of an interview session in a main office is one hour. When you consider questions related to a particular need or problem in a district—bullying, low test scores, coaching vacancies, mandates—there is little or no time to delve deeply into a candidate’s instructional worldview—their philosophy of education.

      Most administrators would view the asking of philosophical questions as an enormous waste of time—the practicalities of managing a school and classrooms are far more important that an ivory tower musing over big questions with no definitive answers. The drawback to focusing on the particulars of implementation is ignoring how those particulars fit together, if at all. Philosophy is a foundational tool for organizing the particulars of implementation into a coherent system for analyzing concepts, definitions, arguments, problems, and questions of value.

      Once one understands a candidate’s philosophy of teaching and learning, the particulars of implementation should be self-evident. This does mean that no implementation questions should be asked. In fact, to confirm a candidate’s instructional worldview, a few well-chosen implementation questions should be posed to see if there are any discrepancies between a candidate’s why and how.

      Of course, the assumption I am making, are main offices that have authored a district or schoolwide instructional worldview. Typically, school mission statements should serve this function. However, as I have pointed out in my most recent book few school districts live up to their district’s mission statement (Living Up to Your School Mission Statement: Reforming Schools from the Inside Out). Without attention to an agreed upon school mission, main offices become consumed with the managerial functions of schooling, which, in turn, reduce all aspects of schooling—the interview being one—to the particulars of implementation.

      All school districts spend considerable time and money on the authoring of a school mission statement. The content of these statements list what I term educational universals—goals and values that community members and school staff believe in, and, are committed to implement in their districts. The most cited goals and values written into these universal statements are: critical thinking, diversity, excellence, personalization, accountability, compassion, challenging, justice, leadership, kindness, growth, inclusion.

      There is no question about the value or intent of these educational universals. There is a question about why most of these goals and values are rarely carried out in main offices and classrooms. I have written an entire book describing in detail why schools are unable to live up to their published educational universals. (https://www.amazon.com/Living-Your-School-Mission-Statement/dp/147586292X). The brief version of the problem of unrealized universal values, is the embedded difficulty of aligning an abstract universal with specific behaviors in a main office or classroom.

      The source of the problem lies with the failure on the part of school leaders to take time to develop a consensus around the definition of a published universal value. Take for example one of the most commonly cited value in a school mission statement: “excellence.” Main offices, classrooms, and all school publications are crowded with the vocabularies of excellence: rigor, greatness, mastery, superiority, achievement, peak performance, high standards, being number one, perfect score, valedictorian.

      There are, however, two distinct vocabularies and narratives for defining excellence. One set of vocabularies and narratives, the set that school personnel and the school community believe they value is excellence defined as the optimization of talent. This definition of excellent values and works to optimize the individual talents, abilities, and interests of students in their schools. Along with the vocabularies and narratives of personalization is recognizing there are degrees of mastery of knowledge and skills—we all begin as novices, and depending upon our talents and interest, progress through stages of mastery—competent performer, expert, and public performance. Depending upon the individual talent and interest of a student, they may be satisfied with different levels of mastery or decide that the activity they are pursuing is not worth the time or effort.

      The other distinct vocabulary and narrative of excellence that governs schooling in this nation is defined as maximization of talent. This definition of excellence believes talent is a zero-sum game: a few gifted students will rise to the top of the schooling pyramid; most students will sink to the middle or bottom of the schooling pyramid. Translated into organizational and instructional specifics, this definition of excellence values grading, standardized curriculum, standardized testing, ranking, classrooms, seat-time, credits.

      Rarely, if ever, do school leaders articulate the disconnect between universal educational values and specific practices. The governing assumption being, that the specifics of schooling are aligned with an universal value. In this case, the school community assumes their schools are optimizing the talent of their son or daughter, when, in reality the school organization is structured to assign their son or daughter to a position on the school achievement pyramid.

Most organizations, including schools, are structured around the specifics of implementation—time, money, space, personnel, rules and regulations, standardization—and not, the universals values written into mission statements—autonomy, creativity, doubt, diversity. In the public and private sector, those leaders that stand out from their colleagues articulate and then resolve the gaps between the specifics of their organization and the universal values listed in their mission statements.

How would a leader of content knowledge solve the problem of high Hispanic dropout rates in a high school?

The typical response of most school administrators to an achievement problem in their school is to adopt a program. The program will usually include several one-day workshops led by a well-known guru in the field. The staff would receive notice of their involvement in the program at an opening day workshop. The announcement of the new program would be accompanied by a brief power-point presentation of what the program entails and the schedule for the in-service workshops.  Because the agenda for the opening day workshop is jammed with managerial matters, there is little time to explain to the staff the rationale for the program or the theories, ideas, and practices that govern the program. One year later when achievement gains have failed to materialize school administrators will blame teachers for failing to “buy into” the new program. Administrators who approach instructional change in the mode of “shoot first and then aim” do not have much time for recriminations because it is a new year and time for a new program.

            A leader of content knowledge, however, would approach an instructional problem quite differently. There would be no grand announcement of a program or a schedule to launch the faculty into action, but rather a series of mini-presentations that would begin with factual representations of the problem and then, as the year progressed, the communication of an agenda in the form of an instructional story that is told over and over again in faculty meetings, in school board meetings, in meetings with district personnel, and most importantly in the daily hallway and classroom conversations with teachers, students, and support personnel. The instructional story would always be composed of the facts of the problem, the emotional toll the problem is taking on students, parents, and teachers, and possible solutions for the problem. The instructional story would always be delivered orally so audiences feel the seriousness, passion, and purposefulness of the leader of content knowledge. The power of the instructional story does not lie in the emotional force of the story alone, however, but ultimately in the substance of the story—a philosophy of education—that weaves theories, ideas, and the practice of curriculum and instruction into the everyday routines and varied understandings of the school community she leads. In the case of high Hispanic dropout rates, the story might look something like this:

For the last five years one-third of the Hispanic students who begin in our school will not walk across the stage four years later. All of us sitting in this auditorium have experienced the pain of students and parents who have been drawn into the life changing decision to quit high school —it is like a death without a funeral. Many of you have stopped me in the hallway, dropped into my office, or cornered me in the parking lot to tell me a story of one your best Hispanic students who decided to dropout of school. Let me interject that I truly appreciate all the efforts this faculty is making to support students whose native language and immigrant status has made it difficult for our new arrivals to do well in school.

 Of particular concern to me is the high number of Hispanic students who come to us from good high schools in Mexico and still fail to graduate. In talking with students, parents, and colleagues in districts with similar populations it appears that highly educated Hispanic students drop out of school because of their frustration in basic skills classes where they feel stuck because of their inability to speak English. If I placed myself in a similar position I can see where I would become bored in courses where I was not challenged and where I felt I was going nowhere. The research on the problem of high dropout rates among Hispanic students is all over the place. Some researchers feel that the solution lies in the community; some feel that the solution lies with better ESL/bilingual programs; some feel that more attention needs to be paid to employing more Hispanic teachers. As you know, over the last five years we have implemented a number of changes in our school to address each of these approaches to the problem with limited success.

Recently, there have been several writers who focused on the problem of how to increase the retention rate of academically talented Hispanic students. Again, the solutions offered by researchers are all over the map, but a common theme that emerges from effective programs for second language learners is the inclusion of classes, especially advanced classes, that are conducted in the native language. Some of you have expressed to me concerns about not emphasizing the importance of learning English. I agree with this concern. I feel this concern should be an important part of the conversations we will be having this year about how best to address the instructional needs of Hispanic students who are academically prepared to do well in advanced classes in mathematics and science.

            The construction of this instructional story by the leader of content knowledge would begin a year or more before any public pronouncements were uttered about the problem. That year would become a period of private study of the problem. The leader of content knowledge would seek out experts in the field who have studied and written about the problem of high Hispanic dropout rates. Based on these conversations, the leader of content knowledge would select monographs and research articles that represent a continuum of theories, ideas, and practices in the field. She would then allocate time to read about the problem, talk about the problem with experts in the field, and finally to begin to run her thoughts by staff members most affected by the problem.

            The goal of this personal journey for the leader of content knowledge is to allocate the necessary time to become immersed in the theories, ideas, and practices associated with the problem and, then, to seek out as many opportunities as possible to translate the theories, ideas, and practices from the professional literature into the everyday vocabulary, metaphors, analogies, and personal histories of the teachers they work with. The eventual success of the instructional story will depend on how well the leader of content knowledge has woven the theories and ideas from the professional literature into the everyday realities of classroom practice and, most importantly, how well the story stands up to “competing counterstories” (Gardner, 1995) of staff members. In the case of Spanish speaking content classes (science, social studies, mathematics) the instructional story would have to withstand the very powerful counterstory of the absolute duty of schools to teach recently arrived immigrants English as quickly as possible and to accomplish this moral and pedagogical function in classes where the recently arrived immigrant is totally immersed in English speaking classes.

            What makes the personal and public journeys of the leader of content knowledge so vital to the process of solving an instructional problem is the personal understandings that come with the private study of the problem and with these understandings the development of necessary knowledge to define the problem for the staff, to explain an instructional framework that would address the problem, and to relate the components of the instructional framework to the everyday realities of classroom teaching. In the case of high Hispanic dropout rates, the leader of content knowledge has defined the problem—-the dropping out of high achieving Hispanic students who do not have access to higher level math and science classes; she has proposed a solution for the problem—the creation of advanced classes in mathematics and science that are taught in Spanish; she has identified indicators of success—the graduation rates of high achieving Hispanic students. The knowledge base developed during the personal and private journeys serve also as a solid foundation for confronting the “little” problems and competing counterstories (Gardner, 1995) that will emerge during the implementation of upper level content classes taught in Spanish.

            The final guarantee, however, of the fulfillment of the goals and strategies of an instructional story is the day-to-day discussions and decisions that surface, situation-by-situation, as teachers work to develop curricular and instructional strategies for teaching advanced content classes in Spanish. The personal and private journey would reveal in which situations the leader of content knowledge should become involved. In the case of teaching advanced content classes in a second language, the challenge that will confront teachers in the program is finding materials in the second language—textbooks, lab activities, assessment instruments, technology applications—and personnel that possess a facility with the second language to teach the class and translate the materials. The ideal strategy for this instructional problem is the employment of Spanish speaking teachers who are certified in mathematics and science. Knowing this, the leader of content knowledge would become very much involved in the recruitment and employment of prospective teachers —which would include contacting department chairpersons of science and mathematics at universities with significant Hispanic populations; mentoring promising Hispanic students in these departments; and developing school and district incentives that would attract these candidates to their school.

            The other situation that the leader of content knowledge must become a part of is the lesson planning process. What this means operationally is the development of a team format that will allow teachers in the program to collaborate on lessons and a process for requesting the materials and intellectual resources they will need to create lessons, materials, and assessments in Spanish. While teachers are becoming acclimated to their new assignments the leader of content knowledge would have found ways to subtly become an accepted member of the planning team. Their role on the team is part manager of resources and logistics, part cheerleader, and part keeper of the faith in the philosophical assumptions guiding the change initiative. In every situation where teachers come together to change what they do in classrooms, the leader of content knowledge plays the all important role of establishing an intellectual climate where teachers feel free to create the details of classroom instruction and at the same time maintaining the boundaries for the faithful adherence to the theories, ideas, and practices that have been woven together to form a school’s response to the instructional challenge of the day.

The Choice for Educational Administrators

            A recent report (HSSE, 2005) on student satisfaction with their school experience gives voice to John Goodlad’s (1984) observation over twenty years ago that schools are places where students have become emotionally deadened by the routines of schooling and intellectually morbid by an institutional curriculum that prizes completion of work rather than understanding and reflection. Faced with these contemporary realities of schooling in America and the direction where the school reform literature is pointing, school administrators have three choices: they can retreat to their office; they can dance around the classroom (administrators-as-managers); or they can enter the classroom as leaders of content knowledge. Administrators who choose to enter the classroom will truly begin a difficult private and public journey into teaching and learning —but it will be a journey that has the only real opportunity to fully develop the creativity, intelligence, and the competence of our next generation of children.