Today I joined a panel in a graduate course on collaboration in education.
I am reviewing my notes, and before I discard them, I thought I might share my reflections here.
I have been “cultivating humility” for several years -- since humility was not encouraged as a value (and at times actively discouraged!) in my formative years as an assertive, privileged White male -- so it would not occur to me that my words would have particular value.
However, the conversation that arose from the rich assembly of #unicorns, in the words of one panelist, centered my mind on several concrete points that were not often explicitly identified in my teaching practice.
One of the phrases I repeat to myself is “make the implicit, explicit” to remind me that there is power in naming today what I could only internally comprehend yesterday. Having this type of open discourse represents a form of growth, which can be essential in increasing our impact as organizational change agents, which is my essential purpose in education.
Many of these teachers were interested in or pursuing certification (it seems) for ABA -- I didn’t know the acronym either, so you too should Google it -- and generally were focused on special education, autism, etc.
Some examples of the implicit, made explicit:
Call beyond the primary contact
It never previously occurred to me as a teacher (7 years) and team leader (2 years) that when teachers call family contacts at the beginning of the year to make positive introductions -- an essential act for strong teachers -- they should not just call the primary contact, but where possible call the other contacts (fathers, especially). As a father of two, who often receives school updates third hand through my ex-wife, I would deeply appreciate direct contact from school officials, teachers, etc., as opposed to them simply communicating with my ex-wife who lives in the region, and is an “easy” contact. Perhaps there are events I could attend, if notified in advance, despite my distance of 300+/- miles. Perhaps my absence forms an impression of neglect or inattentiveness?
These are implicit things that I’ve reacted to in an emotional way (having to receive information second hand) but not consciously considered in a broader context of school collaboration -- so I encouraged teachers to contact grandparents, fathers, and anyone listed. Perhaps set up a system whereby you make X calls each week, and rotate through with updates.
If you only approach administrators and certain influential actors when there’s a problem, that will make it harder to achieve a successful, collaborative outcome. Principals lament that when they see most people, it means there’s a problem.
The key for me was to establish a habit of “passing through” the office. Literally, there were two routes leading out to the teacher parking lot (in my 7 years of public ISD experience), one that was more direct and allowed a teacher to duck under a window and slip out unnoticed by administrators, often at 3:55 (for a 4:00 dismissal). The other route could theoretically wind through the office. While I rarely left early, it did seem easier when exhausted at the end of the day to take the shorter, anonymous, more popular route.
However, I often pushed myself to walk through the office, and if a door was open, to pop in and say Hi, and if there was an implicit or explicit invitation, “Sit down ...” to just talk for a minute ...
To the Principal, our Office Manager, our Attendance Clerk, our Counselor, etc.
These interactions put the “butterfly” in social butterfly, in the sense that you’re willing to flit between different sources of “nectar” or information.
Building these relationships means developing habits that are helpful, even if the gains from these relationships don’t accrue reliably, but feel like bits of luck.
Because I was often the one person stopping by without a request or a problem, there was a sigh of relief and a positive association. Additionally, occasionally I would have an opportunity (just by presence) to weigh in on issues before they were decided, as opposed to objecting reactively to “bad decisions.”
In one example, an assistant principal who was in charge of purchasing, had to “spend lots of grant money today!” on a particular visit. Instead of going home, I pulled open a few History catalogs (I was the social studies dept. head) and supported my department, as well as other departments where I could weigh in.
The resources that were ordered were put into use in classrooms, as opposed to filling up closets due to impulsive and disconnected ordering. We can blame the bureaucratic process for the flaws in the system, but you can also show up and step up where possible.
I should note that these are not meant to be "universal strategies” stripped of context, including my position of privilege, as established above. For various reasons, these patterns, habits, and “opportunities” may accrue for me in disproportion as compared to others.
Additionally, this communication came with a risk of disassociation with my peers, who viewed me as being “too close” to the administration. Yet teachers often encouraged me to speak to these administrators when frustrations caused normal channels of communication to break down. In time, I encouraged teachers to develop their own voice. I tried to balance (a) using my position to advocate for others, without (b) keeping their voices from being heard. There are not definitive rules, so much as a back and forth internal discourse.
Social workers are amazing
My public ISD (to my knowledge) did not employ social workers. Yet in hiring a social worker for my charter district, I learned a lot about the role. Specifically, despite potential (mis)perceptions that this person is (only) an outreach specialist for parents and community services, they are in fact often highly specialized clinical practitioners, whose evidenced based interventions and treatment can meet or exceed the capacity of counselors (LMSW, LCSW compared to LPC). However, social workers by contrast are also trained to engage parents in their community contexts, including home visits.
This is not meant to detract from counselors, who alongside teachers often perform common acts of heroism within challenging bureaucracies, but simply to elevate the status of the social worker as a profession.
This topic came from a panelist as social worker. But it was sad that prior to my charter experience, I had never (to my knowledge) thought of a social worker being a resource to schools. It was not a practical tool in my toolbox.
This despite the National Association for School Social Workers defining an ideal ratio of social workers to students being 1:250. In the case of a certain central Texas ISD, a ratio as high as 1:10,000 (literally, across a 12-14 school feeder pattern) is not unheard of. And the 1:250 ratio assumes a school does not have a disproportionate amount of need, as “low SES” (Socioeconomic Status) schools often possess. When I think of this it brings upon me a sense of tragedy. As a teacher I knew implicitly, and joked explicitly, that we wore many hats, including counselor, and in effect social worker, but did not consider that we could employ such persons as a point of common practice.
There are efforts underway to incorporate social workers into the common staffing patterns of schools. In the same way that every person may benefit from therapy in some context -- having someone who guides us through the process of unpacking emotions in a healthy way -- so too would every school benefit from the presence of a social worker, who can often increase efficiency of collaboration by bringing with them valuable knowledge of a variety of community organizations as potential assets which can be leveraged in service to supporting students’ educational achievement.
Going through the motions versus authentic processes
A lot of the panelists discussed collaboration in the form of a student’s ARD, IEP, or 504 process. Thinking through my involvement in these proceedings, and others, including Traditional ISD “campus improvement processes” (I’m biased in my charter experience as I’ve personally managed our CIP to an extent) I’ve found it’s often the case that “leaders” of these proceedings are simply going through the motions.
They are ensuring they check boxes, obtain signatures, and turn in forms in a way that does not subject them to exposure from a legal perspective. In short, this is CYA at its worst (Google if need be).
At these moments, looking at a parent who may be lost in a sea of jargon, or a student who nods in agreement but may not understand why they are there or what they are expected to do, represents a sense of guilt in seeing their very human struggle to be subjected to a bureaucratic processed stripped of its humanity.
A member of the class asked what specific steps we can take to avoid this outcome.
Here are some ideas I listed:
Maintain a positive mindset
Prepare effectively - do your “homework”
Prepare effectively - connect with key influencers
Connect in a “human” way within the meeting ...
To explain, when a teacher is called into an ARD, in my experience, it can often occur suddenly, or without a lot of thoughtful consideration. However, several adults as professionals with complementary capacities gathered together to consider how best to support students who face a different playing field -- that is a powerful force -- and teachers, or whomever is in that position, should lead by example by framing these and other meetings not as distractions, but opportunities to have an impact in the life of a student.
To capitalize on this opportunity, prepare effectively. Take time to consider the student, bring data to the meeting. If you have anxiety about how the student, parent, or an administrator might act/react, then proactively connect with these “key influencers” to work through a discourse ahead of time. That way, you’re prepared and not surprised by what they say in the meeting.
And lastly, within the meeting, take time to step back, check the pulse. Most of the time, we know when a process has become about the letter of the law, and not the spirit of educational practice. If that is happening, look parent and student in the eye, show compassion, and when you have a chance to speak, ensure that they are acknowledged, that their voice is heard, that you “check for understanding” to validate true depth, awareness, participation, and investment in the process.
Collaboration as Resistance
Generally, collaboration among teachers takes the form of resistance to a bureaucracy that seems to neglect their voice in the pursuit of misinformed policy. Enough said? Hardly.
We all need to better care for ourselves, to sustain our persistent efforts.
Specifically, I am aware that my quiet, reflective, space of solitude in the evening is a privileged space. My students may face much more hectic spaces in which urban density is reflected at the micro level with family density, more bodies with human emotions compacted into a small space. Yet if I leverage my privilege, which I determine I need to sustain myself, to better engage in the struggle for social justice that I seek in education, then I have take a limitation and flipped it toward an advantage.
So what? Buy a Tempurpedic mattress, spoil yourself with a pedicure, spend an evening binge-watching Netflix; whatever it takes to achieve balance and reset the stresses and pressures to “make it happen” so that you keep the spring in your step. In this way, you may naturally seek alliances and collaboration and capacity building, as opposed to falling prey to a short-sighted sense that we must place the burdens of the world on our shoulders.
Together, we can do more.
Michael Barnes is a doctoral student in Educational Policy and Planning (EPP) in the Department of Educational Administration (EDA) at UT. His research focus is on the intersection of equity and excellence, including an emphasis on culturally responsive pedagogy and “startup skills,” respectively.
