A Tale of Two Camps

Two Sides, Same Story

So, here's another interesting conversation I see played out, but not talked about, in our schools. It's really more a life issue than a school issue:  the two camps.  There are the people who are content and settled in where they are (and don't plan on moving), and then there are those constantly needing change and newness.  The clashes between the two can sometimes be epic. I have experienced the critique of the former over my position in the latter.  I have also worked hard not to judge "them" for what I perceive as fear and lack of ambition.  So now that I've given my position away, let me say that I really can see both sides. The stakers and the scouters are the two names I have come to call them.  Here's what I see:

The STAKERS put their stake in the ground somewhere and call it home.  They establish longevity, loyalty, deep connection to an environment and long-term relationships.  They find what works for them and have no plans on leaving. If it ain't broke, after all, why fix it? Some of them are the "make a lesson plan and teach it 20 years" type, while others are more responsive to the students they see before them and enjoy reinvention. To an extent.  But don't try to push them too far out of what is comfortable, or you'd better believe the wrath is coming for you! I have observed stakers to be the ones with the most predictable responses to anything that is new or proposed.  You will hear from the stakers how many times in the past sometime similar has been tried or failed, and when they feel unsure, they use their proven longevity to check you. They genuinely believe that people who change things up every 5 years, or who take PD that is not required, could only be doing it to pad a résumé.  It does not occur to them that this change and adventure are in their wiring.  For them, change is not growth--it's just unnecessary movement.

The SCOUTERS are not satisfied with the status quo.  They are restless and unfulfilled if they can't continually find new things to learn, new people and ideas to experience, and/or new ways of doing what they've always done. They are the ones who are accused of breaking the bell curve in class, or making other people look bad as "overachievers." These people genuinely don't enjoy doing the same thing the same way for very long.  They start to feel dead inside if they can't innovate.   Any conversation with them will inevitably end with, "What if...?" Forget rehearsing  what has been done in the past.  They consider it a dead horse unless it's been proven tried and true.  These people will keep the peace in a room of stakers and silently abide commitments to tradition, but quietly they will go their way and do what makes sense to them as a way to do it better.  They genuinely believe the only way to respect oneself is to stay on the path of constant pursuit.  That path is a moving sidewalk.

Here's the rub: In my opinion, there will always be disagreements in the world as long as there are stakers and scouters.  But when scouters follow that gene in their DNA that longs for change and progress, stakers usually feel threatened and will strike.  That's what I've seen before, and I'm seeing it again as my administrator preps to make moves towards a new opportunity.  Some other colleagues are considering moves, as well, and the stakers definitely have something to say about it.  A little birdie's telling people that colleagues who leave are sabotaging the work of those who stay.  As a self-identified scouter, this baffles me.  I want to ask on those other folks' behalf, "How does me leaving or staying mean that I want you to fail? Is my life really about you?" But I stay silent, celebrate my admin's blessing and pray really hard we get someone good to replace her.  Far be it for me to try to hold her here forever to keep me comfortable...

If you think about it, this debate is as old as time.  Those of us seasoned in urban education or college access work see it with our students.  Generational poverty can grip a family and community, and a youngster can get a great opportunity outside of the neighborhood. Yet many of those young people are socially conditioned to see leaving as disloyalty.  Who do you think you are? they know they'll be asked. How dare they believe their lives can be more than what they've seen? And so, many settle into status quo to prove they're real.  But I'm willing to bet that at least half of those who do, die inside...why? They are scouters! Scouters without the freedom to be.  If I could say one thing to each camp, I'd tell them simply this: Scouters, be free to explore all that is possible.  You're fine just the way you are! Stakers, we need some people who hold to traditions.  But please, let no one tell you that change in others will ruin you.  There's room for us all!

Friends, I had not intended on so long a post. But I had to speak on this today, and it bears saying again:  everyone is not wired the same.  It's unfair to think we are, and we have to do better in education when it comes to giving each other room to thrive. That is all.  Until soon,

We Sow and Don’t Know

SOW WHAT?

I have always been intrigued by the things that agrarian life used to teach us, that we now have lost.  I’m fascinated by the natural intelligence that comes from life on a farm, and the kind of innate wisdom in naturalists.  One part of that world is the wisdom that emerges from living with the earth.  Planting principles teach us all about how life flows, and many of the proverbs that have guided people for thousands of years come from that world.

Such is the case with “sowing and reaping”—this idea that what we put into the ground is what grows up for us. It’s more than a cute idea.  It is a universal law, like gravity.  It applies not just to planting, though, but to every area of our lives.

I feel like as adults, and as teachers, we know this innately.  It’s why we talk to our kids about the law of kindness, and how powerful it is to be a good friend, to show empathy and to help when we can.  It’s why we tell them, in today’s parlance, to ignore their “haters,” because the hater’s day is coming.  But I think we don’t believe that the law of sowing and reaping applies to us in our own professional dealings as educators, and this seeming disconnect FASCINATES me.  Let me explain.

TEACHERS, WE CAN BE THE WORST...

Have you ever been in a staff meeting or professional development gathering where information is being shared and someone is in front of the group talking---but a million sidebars are happening, too? People may be taking care to whisper, or may be so bold as to talk in loud tones above the speaker.  I have been in meetings like this for years, in utter disbelief at the brazenness of adults who know better.  How do I know they know better? These very same adults would have their students’ HIDES if they did the very same thing to them!   Usually the teachers with THE strongest “respect me” ethic are the worst offenders in this way! Why is that?   If you ask me, those teachers are literally setting the stage for their students to treat them in exactly the same way.  So even though I do address it in my own ways when I’m the presenter—and I discourage people from talking to ME over the speaker through subtle redirections if I’m in the audience--I’m thoroughly convinced that their day really is coming.  Not just a day of reaping this kind of behavior in their own domains, but a day of realization, where they wake up to their ways and change them.

Just yesterday, I observed another category of ironic boldness where sowing is happening unawares.  The office had announced that we would be having indoor recess.  We all heard it, as clear as anything.  Yet about 10 minutes later, I saw one grade level of teachers taking their students outside.  They’d decided for some reason to be exempt from the directive.  I stood amazed.  (This happens to also be a set of teachers who experienced a great deal of chaos in their rooms this year due to behavior and had challenges establishing community.) 

GETTING CURIOUS

Of course, the curious social scientist in me is now trying to find a way to ask the teachers about this in a way that can give insight into their thinking.  I think I want to our talk to go like this:

What do you believe your most defiant students believe about following the rules and falling in line with classroom expectations—even when they don’t want to?

When their teacher does the opposite of what the administration has asked the whole school to do, what message do you think they’ll take away from that?

Does that message support or detract from the mindset you want those students to live out in your room and beyond?

It’s not that I see myself as the compliance police. Truly, I don’t.   It’s just that I think we have to hold ourselves to at least the same standard we give our kids.  Otherwise, we are clanging cymbals, empty noise in their search for trustworthy and admirable adults.  Someone would say I’m completely going overboard.  But it really is the little things that set the stage for what we get from people.  So, I just thought it was worth saying out loud:  sowing and reaping is still in full effect, whether we acknowledge it or not.  It is what it is.  Might as well plant some good seeds…

Yours in the struggle,

Disrupting the Power Dynamic

Friends, this place I live in, the intersection between parent, teacher and visionary, is sometimes a wild ride.  Here, I work through conversations from each vantage point and then have to make peace among the three.  But it's an incredible space of introspection, and I want to share today what I've discovered there, this year.  But first, my main conclusion: We don't need more meetings where parents and teachers sit as strangers across tables from each other to discuss data.  We don't even need more meetings with food as bait, where staff members serve hungry parents food and wait for them to eat it.  What we really need are scheduled times for families and staffs to sit, break bread together and learn each other's stories--which translates into learning each other's humanity.

BACKSTORY:

My school has stumbled on a game-changer that I never saw coming.  It is so deceptively simple that I can't believe it took THIS long.  Last summer, I had an impactful conversation with our school's parent consultant that shifted my thinking.  She'd said that the parents at our school did not see us, the staff members, as people.  We were representatives of the school, the establishment--not mothers, uncles and even sons and daughters ourselves.  No, we only lived to speak for the school and to stand in stead of all things wrong they'd experienced in schools.  I was shocked to hear this.  After all, we as educators are keenly aware of our own stories--how school encouraged or discouraged us from feeling smart, how this or that teacher inspired us to step into their shoes...but to realize that our parents could see none of this was a jolt for me.


There are lots of steps in between (which I can blog about another time), but after an interesting set of revelations this year, I landed at the realization  about our school.  Our super-low parent involvement in the testing process was a problem that we probably should tackle creatively instead of continuing to repeat the approaches from the past.  Testing in our state has changed several times and this most recent iteration, computerized and quite complicated, befuddles our families.  But my feeling is that most really don't feel empowered to connect to the process at all--unless forced to when their child is retained.  (We are a state with a Third Grade Reading Guarantee.) Yes, we may have scheduled informative sessions to school them on testing requirements in the past, but few have plugged in.  I decided that we should try to get their interest through a series of parent meetings this year.  Talk straight, inspire them, help them see who we are and why we care.  I talked to our parent consultant and assistant principal and convinced them to join the vision.  Together, we created a 6-session series of parent talks involving mindset shifts, practical helps and yes, food.  This week we completed session 5 of 6, and here are some of my realizations so far:

1. Parents want to feel seen and heard in school.

This is true any any space--but in urban environments, parents being seen and not heard is such a common expectation that we probably don't know that we hold it.  If the same families we lament being un-involved showed up in droves, we probably wouldn't know what to do with ourselves.

2. Staff members are probably secretly fearful of seeing family members as equals, even if we don't know it.

We closely identities as saviors and all-knowing rescuers, which we fear might be ruined if we found ways to connect with parents beyond our norm.

3. Any school that could get parents in the door--or even show up where they can be found--just to build relationships around their shared work--could probably change the world. Or at least theirs.

Getting many parents to plug into school is hard...but what if we could build a culture where families find help and partnership in their child's success and that support becomes (for lack of a better term) addictive?  Maybe we haven't truly made it worth their while yet.

In our sessions, we have seen staff and teachers sit and enjoy meals together and discuss everything from their children's assessment experiences to traumatic losses and their effect on their children, to sharing strategies for teaching their kids in and out of school.

4.  The simple shift of position changes everything.
In my building, we believe the age-old wisdom that to get our population of parents in school, we have to feed them.  While this seems largely true, I think our posture in the process could change.  Typically we assign ourselves to man the food service, doling out lasagna or building sandwiches.  Yet we remain in the giving position, with the families as recipients.  What an amazing thing has happened, however, when staff members have been sitting on a horizontal plane with families breaking bread!  We present relevant learning information at our meetings, but before it's all done, we eat with the families.  We all get to be human, together.  I dare anyone doubting the power of this to try it! It's building such a different kind of tone that we're looking into continuing the meetings throughout the year!  Love what's happening here...To be continued about where we go from here.  All I know is, we've gotten something started...

The Coolest Clock Ever

Friends, can I just tell you I have found THE world's coolest clock? I was in my colleague's classroom the other day and as the clock struck the hour, I heard a little bird song.  My eyes darted around the room looking for the source. What?!--A bird song clock??  Yes, she shared, this clock chimed every hour on the hour with the genuine song of a different bird.  I was awestruck! Made a mental note.

Later that night, I looked up "bird song clock" and to my surprise, a very popular retailer had them.  I ordered one online, and ours came today!! I am planning to write numbers on the outside of the dial, and as my very musical children and I learn about the different birds, we will be quietly reinforcing another skill:  familiarity with the positions of the clock numbers.  I predict that this clock will put my 3- and 5-year-old on a natural fast track to understanding analog time-telling.  What a brilliant concept, really, this idea of attaching information to the hour spots! I wish I'd had something like that to anchor my learning when learning to tell time!

I'll plan to check back in to report how my kids respond to the clock. But just wanted to share...in case anyone is interested... :-)

Yours in the adventure,