Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Leaders show us where to stretch.

If you were to spend a month in my classroom, you’d likely catch my students rolling their eyes a few times, tired of the never-ending life lessons that I slip into conversations. You see, I’m an old fashioned school teacher, convinced that instruction stretches beyond the curriculum.

One of my favorite lessons is the importance of role models. “Kids,” I’ll say, “No matter how great you think you are, you can always find someone to look up to who has skills that you don’t have. Don’t resent those people — learn from them! Careful observation can make you a better person.”

To reinforce my message, I start each year telling students about my personal weaknesses — and the people who guide my growth. Driven to be a better school leader, I have made one such role model my previous principal, Matt Wight. "Spending time studying Mr. Wight has helped me to learn more about being influential," I tell my students.

So what makes Matt so remarkable?

For starters, he empowers teachers to make critical decisions about teaching and learning. In Matt’s schools, there are no decisions that teachers aren’t centrally involved in. In today’s accountability culture where a school leader’s reputation depends on producing results, leaders are greatly tempted make top-down decisions. Control becomes important because the risks of releasing control are great.

Empowering teachers, however, generates results for Matt that centralized decision-making could never produce. His teachers feel a sense of commitment and curiosity that teachers in many other schools don’t feel. His teachers are motivated to identify instructional approaches that work because he expects them to be problem solvers. Matt has unleashed an often-untapped resource in schools — the intellectual energies of his teaching staff.

More importantly, though, Matt demonstrates a sincere commitment to the well-being of others through meaningful interactions every day. His teachers know beyond a doubt that Matt cares for them, because he makes an effort to connect with everyone nearly every day, regardless of the demands of his position. Watching him share conversations with people of such diverse backgrounds and experiences is nothing short of amazing. Not only is he genuinely interested, he is genuinely comfortable and open. This sense of “service to staff” earns Matt his teachers’ undying loyalty.

What I’ve found so interesting in the years I’ve known Matt is that formal knowledge and skill are only a small part of his success. While he’s clearly competent and well-read — lending essential credibility to his efforts — the real levers that drive change in his schools are these personality traits. His teachers feel valued and respected. School is much more than work to them. Instead, it is a professional adventure shared with likeminded colleagues.

These reflections on Matt’s ability to lead have been eye-opening for me primarily because I’m a guy who isn’t naturally driven by developing relationships. My influence has always been centered in what I know, rather than who I am. Lesson learned, though. This year will be a year of relationship building for me.

After all, role models matter, right?

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Where Will They Go?

The past few weeks have likely been nothing short of a whirlwind for thousands of new teachers across our country beginning what has the potential to be an amazing career. They’ve headed into new schools carrying a sense of enthusiasm that will be tough for us oldtimers to match!

I always love watching new teachers, because despite having to work far harder than expected, they’re typically one big smile — proudly wearing school colors, carefully writing on boards, and often changing their desk arrangements time and again. They won’t sleep for days due to a wicked combination of emotions and excitement, but welcoming students for the first time makes everything worthwhile.

Yet despite all of this effort and energy, statistics show that more than 30% of these new teachers will be gone within three years, and 50% will be gone within five.

The numbers are shocking to some. It’s hard to imagine the same excited, energetic, new faces losing their smiles so quickly. But those of us who have survived in this field are not surprised. We understand how incredibly demanding this profession really is — and we’ve seen new teachers leave over and over again.

What should be shocking are the costs attached to such significant turnover. America’s schools spend $2.6 billion every year to address teacher attrition. But the costs are more than just economic.

Teaching is not a profession that most can master while in college, and knowledge of content is not enough to make one “highly qualified.” Accomplished teachers have a deep understanding of the ways that students learn content and the ability to present lessons using varied instructional approaches. Developing this craft knowledge takes significant time and experience.

Every year that teachers put under their belt is critical. Over time, they become more adept and efficient at addressing learning disabilities and tailoring instruction to meet the needs of increasingly diverse student populations.

Over time, they become more confident and comfortable with their own strengths and weaknesses. Over time, they move beyond the walls of their own classrooms and influence instruction across their schools and districts.

Over time.

The challenge in developing veteran, qualified teachers is that the clock starts ticking from day one. Each school day brings barriers that can seem insurmountable to that new teacher, and dissatisfaction can set in before expertise can develop. Often working in isolation, novice practitioners end up feeling frustrated and alone.

Then a more experienced peer takes the time to reach out, lending support and encouragement. Mentoring either formally or informally, they share what they’ve learned, learn as they share, and make teaching seem slightly more manageable. Retention really isn’t a complicated puzzle.

It just relies on our ability to show compassion to — and concern for — our newest colleagues.