Would I want to be a learner in my own classroom? AND What are some ways we can create a true learning community?
I would love to be a learner in my own classroom. The library is a welcoming place where learning is extended in ways that can not be achieved in the classroom. To create a true learning community, we must break the model that sees individual classrooms and grade levels as separate learning zones.
I have compared school to a shopping mall, where different storefronts operate and might know what other stores look like, but really don't share the magic of what makes successful ones work.
Creating true learning communities involve making vertical collaboration between grade levels a reality. Technology can be used to openly share and time needs to be made to accomplish this. How wonderful would it be for a sixth grade classroom to do a gallery walk of the seventh grade hallway and have students share what they are doing? Sixth graders could see how their learning now will manifest itself in the future.
In order to create true learning communities, we must break out of the mindset that looks at learning on a particular team or grade level. The librarian sees all students and is a ready facilitator.
It would involve doing away with the way we've always done things in American education.
Maybe it is time to start?
Thursday, June 6, 2019
The Innovator's Mindset - Chapter 11: Embracing an Open Culture
In your school, do you feel the importance of writing? Why or why not?
Writing should be a paramount activity in my school and not just something that is done in ELA classes. I have seen pockets of focus on writing, but the way curriculum is set up, most writing is done in ELA classes. Science has a structured curriculum with little room for deviation, and social studies classes do not engage enough in writing.
Students have not been immersed in writing before coming to middle school. Writers Workshop should be a critical component. Until writing is seen as immersive and constantly spread across disciplines, not much will change.
Writing should be a paramount activity in my school and not just something that is done in ELA classes. I have seen pockets of focus on writing, but the way curriculum is set up, most writing is done in ELA classes. Science has a structured curriculum with little room for deviation, and social studies classes do not engage enough in writing.
Students have not been immersed in writing before coming to middle school. Writers Workshop should be a critical component. Until writing is seen as immersive and constantly spread across disciplines, not much will change.
Thursday, May 30, 2019
The Innovator's Mindset: Chapter 10 - Less is More
How is your proficiency with Google Apps for Education, Blogs and Twitter? Where would you want to improve?
School is over, at least for 2018-19, and that means fewer work emails to sort through. One today caught my eye.
My new principal sent an email sharing for thoughts on our new school motto for August: Bulldog Strong. Those who responded said "I love it" or "sounds good." I scrolled through dozens of responses on the thread and thought how can we expand the conversation on this. I like the simplicity of the statement - less is more - but I see an opportunity for discussion platforms that go beyond a work email. This could be the start of a very necessary conversation over what that statement means to our school and community.
Email is the quick and ready tool for getting information out. It's not conversation-starting. It doesn't coalesce ideas. As a librarian and a tech advocate, I see an opportunity to bring in platforms to shape the conversation, not just deliver it.
I am preparing to take the GAFE Level 1 certification (my wife is gearing up for Level 2, which means I have to up my game and catch up with her), am breathing life back into my own blog, and use Twitter to expand my own professional learning communities. I describe Twitter as a cesspool of political vitriol, but it DOES have its merits as a way of positively spreading and sharing ideas. MY proficiency is solid.
My goal this year was to get more teachers involved with GAFE, blogging, and Twitter. The ones who implement those tools do so with kids in mind. Some amazing things happened. The inequity in access to the means of using those tools (Chromebooks) made expanding it difficult. It also involves creating mindsets when kids are young that hold technology as more than entertainment.
I plan to follow up with my principal and pitch the idea of a Google Form soliciting feedback on her motto idea. This would allow some data collection and coalescing into a package to examine. I could blog about it. The school Twitter handle could post the idea with #moedchat and #ffsd hashtags and expand the conversation beyond an email thread.
That would be transformative.
School is over, at least for 2018-19, and that means fewer work emails to sort through. One today caught my eye.
My new principal sent an email sharing for thoughts on our new school motto for August: Bulldog Strong. Those who responded said "I love it" or "sounds good." I scrolled through dozens of responses on the thread and thought how can we expand the conversation on this. I like the simplicity of the statement - less is more - but I see an opportunity for discussion platforms that go beyond a work email. This could be the start of a very necessary conversation over what that statement means to our school and community.
Email is the quick and ready tool for getting information out. It's not conversation-starting. It doesn't coalesce ideas. As a librarian and a tech advocate, I see an opportunity to bring in platforms to shape the conversation, not just deliver it.
I am preparing to take the GAFE Level 1 certification (my wife is gearing up for Level 2, which means I have to up my game and catch up with her), am breathing life back into my own blog, and use Twitter to expand my own professional learning communities. I describe Twitter as a cesspool of political vitriol, but it DOES have its merits as a way of positively spreading and sharing ideas. MY proficiency is solid.
My goal this year was to get more teachers involved with GAFE, blogging, and Twitter. The ones who implement those tools do so with kids in mind. Some amazing things happened. The inequity in access to the means of using those tools (Chromebooks) made expanding it difficult. It also involves creating mindsets when kids are young that hold technology as more than entertainment.
I plan to follow up with my principal and pitch the idea of a Google Form soliciting feedback on her motto idea. This would allow some data collection and coalescing into a package to examine. I could blog about it. The school Twitter handle could post the idea with #moedchat and #ffsd hashtags and expand the conversation beyond an email thread.
That would be transformative.
The Innovator's Mindset: Chapter 9 - Powerful Learning First, Technology Second
How do you model and explore new opportunities for learning in your own practice?
This summer marks thirty years since graduating high school. Several of my old teachers are STILL teaching at my high school. They model and explore powerful learning, even in their sixties. Current students still feel the magic the class of 1989 experienced, and that is a testament to their power as educators.
Technology is the accelerator but learners are the driver. For nearly a quarter century in education, I have heard that "computers in the classroom" and "1:1 initiatives" will help drive success and lead to equity. Having technology is one thing; having the right technology and knowing how to use it is another.
Alan Jones was my 10th grade Geometry teacher and, for at least one semester of senior year where I thought I could handle it, Trigonometry. Except for Algebra II, I was a C and D student in math. I just did not get it. I struggled in Mr. Jones' class, but I loved his goofiness, intellectual brilliance, and penchant for pissing off the wrong people. A trophy in his ongoing example of the latter was an old TRS-80 computer, the "Trash 80" as we children of the Apple IIe called it.
It was 1988, and during my abortive attempt at senior year math I noticed the old gray doorstop sitting on his back table. I hadn't seen one of those monsters since grade school. Why in the world did he have one in his room?
Mr. Jones was a slight, rail-thin man with a scraggly beard, wire glasses, and a monotone delivery. He looked like George McFly's beatnik cousin. He was an inveterate runner, and could be seen running all over town, even in the dodgiest of Vermont winters. Like all distance runners, Alan Jones was a glutton for punishment and quietly gloried in running his own route, even if it meant going into traffic. The Trash 80 was a humorous reminder of when he went against school district convention and was rebuked by administration, only to get the last laugh.
In the early 1980s, district administrators decided that the Tandy TRS-80 was the computer system that would populate classrooms. Mr. Jones, being the pesky gadfly and unafraid to call truth to power, wrote a letter to the school board stating that these computers were junk and would be obsolete within a year or two. He advocated that Apple would be a better choice, allowing for word processing and computer learning. He received an angry memo stating that he should stay out of commenting on district technology decisions.
Sure enough, Jones' words rang true and within a year the gray behemoths were mothballed and Apple IIs populated the computer labs and classrooms.
"Mr. Jones," I asked. "What's with the Trash 80?"
"Oh," he smiled, stroking his beard. "That's my reminder of administrative incompetence and not listening to teachers."
My district is not a "1:1" environment but we have moved to mobile carts of Chromebooks, which makes a lot more sense financially and practically. They are cheap to replace and fit perfectly with the online and app based platform instead of expensive software. The platform is adaptable, and while Chromebooks may take a beating from student use, their functionality will not be obsolete in a year's time.
In the library, I am constantly exploring how learners can drive their journey. I will pull kids in and ask them to try out new apps and extensions and give feedback. The focus is on them as learners and not an expensive piece of technology.
Mr. Jones succumbed to cancer several years after I graduated. I kept his obituary and put it in one of my journals. I can't say I grasped much of the math he taught, but I never forgot his belief that technology is the accelerator, not the driver.
This summer marks thirty years since graduating high school. Several of my old teachers are STILL teaching at my high school. They model and explore powerful learning, even in their sixties. Current students still feel the magic the class of 1989 experienced, and that is a testament to their power as educators.
Technology is the accelerator but learners are the driver. For nearly a quarter century in education, I have heard that "computers in the classroom" and "1:1 initiatives" will help drive success and lead to equity. Having technology is one thing; having the right technology and knowing how to use it is another.
Alan Jones was my 10th grade Geometry teacher and, for at least one semester of senior year where I thought I could handle it, Trigonometry. Except for Algebra II, I was a C and D student in math. I just did not get it. I struggled in Mr. Jones' class, but I loved his goofiness, intellectual brilliance, and penchant for pissing off the wrong people. A trophy in his ongoing example of the latter was an old TRS-80 computer, the "Trash 80" as we children of the Apple IIe called it.
It was 1988, and during my abortive attempt at senior year math I noticed the old gray doorstop sitting on his back table. I hadn't seen one of those monsters since grade school. Why in the world did he have one in his room?
Mr. Jones was a slight, rail-thin man with a scraggly beard, wire glasses, and a monotone delivery. He looked like George McFly's beatnik cousin. He was an inveterate runner, and could be seen running all over town, even in the dodgiest of Vermont winters. Like all distance runners, Alan Jones was a glutton for punishment and quietly gloried in running his own route, even if it meant going into traffic. The Trash 80 was a humorous reminder of when he went against school district convention and was rebuked by administration, only to get the last laugh.
In the early 1980s, district administrators decided that the Tandy TRS-80 was the computer system that would populate classrooms. Mr. Jones, being the pesky gadfly and unafraid to call truth to power, wrote a letter to the school board stating that these computers were junk and would be obsolete within a year or two. He advocated that Apple would be a better choice, allowing for word processing and computer learning. He received an angry memo stating that he should stay out of commenting on district technology decisions.
Sure enough, Jones' words rang true and within a year the gray behemoths were mothballed and Apple IIs populated the computer labs and classrooms.
"Mr. Jones," I asked. "What's with the Trash 80?"
"Oh," he smiled, stroking his beard. "That's my reminder of administrative incompetence and not listening to teachers."
My district is not a "1:1" environment but we have moved to mobile carts of Chromebooks, which makes a lot more sense financially and practically. They are cheap to replace and fit perfectly with the online and app based platform instead of expensive software. The platform is adaptable, and while Chromebooks may take a beating from student use, their functionality will not be obsolete in a year's time.
In the library, I am constantly exploring how learners can drive their journey. I will pull kids in and ask them to try out new apps and extensions and give feedback. The focus is on them as learners and not an expensive piece of technology.
Mr. Jones succumbed to cancer several years after I graduated. I kept his obituary and put it in one of my journals. I can't say I grasped much of the math he taught, but I never forgot his belief that technology is the accelerator, not the driver.
The Innovator's Mindset: Chapter 8 - Strengths Based Leadership
What are the current strengths of your organization and how do you continue to move forward?
Yesterday was the last day my school existed as a middle school. We are becoming a 3-5 building, and only myself, a principal, a music teacher, and the custodians will remain come August. The feeling is surreal. The rational part of me understands how the district needs to restructure and consolidate buildings to create a more financially sustainable and equitable experience for our children.
Most of my colleagues are remaining with the district and will be assets at their new schools. Others are leaving, off to new experiences in the annual rite of spring where stronger districts cannibalize the weaker ones in siphoning off talent. I'm not resentful of that. It's a market economy, and St. Louis has 26 different districts and plenty of turnover. It's reality.
Our current strengths revolve around human capital. We have some amazing educators who see teaching as a vocation. My district lacks financial resources, but we have incredible human resources. Moving forward entails empowering teachers and trusting us to follow our hearts, our instincts, and our passions. We have operated as neighborhood schools for decades, and for some of our kids, next year will involve going to schools outside their neighborhoods. They are losing their sense of immediate community.
We have staff who will recreate new communities, forge new identities, and build on the strengths of our past.
Yesterday was the last day my school existed as a middle school. We are becoming a 3-5 building, and only myself, a principal, a music teacher, and the custodians will remain come August. The feeling is surreal. The rational part of me understands how the district needs to restructure and consolidate buildings to create a more financially sustainable and equitable experience for our children.
Most of my colleagues are remaining with the district and will be assets at their new schools. Others are leaving, off to new experiences in the annual rite of spring where stronger districts cannibalize the weaker ones in siphoning off talent. I'm not resentful of that. It's a market economy, and St. Louis has 26 different districts and plenty of turnover. It's reality.
Our current strengths revolve around human capital. We have some amazing educators who see teaching as a vocation. My district lacks financial resources, but we have incredible human resources. Moving forward entails empowering teachers and trusting us to follow our hearts, our instincts, and our passions. We have operated as neighborhood schools for decades, and for some of our kids, next year will involve going to schools outside their neighborhoods. They are losing their sense of immediate community.
We have staff who will recreate new communities, forge new identities, and build on the strengths of our past.
Monday, May 27, 2019
The Innovator's Mindset, Chapter 6: Engage versus Empower
How do we create learning opportunities and experiences for students and staff that focus on empowerment, as opposed to engagement?
I had a wonderful conversation with a friend at church yesterday. Her daughter, Hazel, is nine years old and finishing up her third grade year. I told Kristin how I love seeing Hazel as an acolyte, a job I find my 48 year-old self doing quite a bit these days, a throwback to my time as a teenager.
Growing up in the '80s, my experience in the Episcopal Church was a regimented evolution of responsibility in assisting with the service. Sixth graders became torchbearers, moving on to flag-bearers, and finally becoming the crucifer, carrying the cross and assisting the priest (my dad) with duties at the altar.
My father retired in 2005, but he still supplies occasionally, and generations of acolytes characterize him as a patient teacher and empowering priest. His sermons tend to run about 12 minutes, always starting with a personal story, some self-deprecating humor, and a tie-in with the lessons for the day. He is not a hands-waving preacher. His audience is not captivated by an animated sense of engagement; they are empowered because he brings the Word of God to them and empowers them to act. One can call him "Reverend Sanders" or "Father Sanders," but even the youngest children know him simply as "Harv." Years before, he had his name removed from the church sign. The church is not Harv Sanders, not a building, but God's love empowering a congregation. It's a lesson that is not lost on me.
Kristin told me that Hazel is ready for summer after a somewhat dispiriting time in third grade. Hazel does not feel empowered. The kid has kept a journal since she was six, loves writing, and is captivated by reading and the written word. A recent assignment was to create a piece of writing and then revise it. Hazel felt her original writing was her best writing and simply copied the draft as a final edit.
She was marked down. She was deflated.
Hazel is not a compliant kid. She is a "good kid," don't get me wrong. She is not a kid who will do things a certain way because it pleases her parents or her teacher. Hazel wants to know the "why."
Her parents are masterful at teaching her the "why." She has not experienced that in the classroom.
I suggested that Kristin see if there is a male fourth grade teacher for Hazel. We both agreed that it would be a growth experience for Hazel to learn from a different-gendered teacher. My friend, Dan, is an elementary librarian and former fourth grade teacher, and it takes a special kind of guy to make a difference in the elementary setting, where male roles seem to be P.E. teachers and - less so now than when we were kids - principals.
I told Kristin that if Hazel were my student I would take her aside and answer her "whys." Why IS writing about revision? I would have offered the opportunity to edit with me and see what a fresh set of eyes would see. That is empowering.
I worked with a colleague who prided herself on a "well-managed" classroom. She has only taught first grade her entire career. She has no desire to do anything else, no impetus to teach at a different grade level, She loves the compliant children, the ones who fear and follow her without question. She requires kids use a hand signal to signify yes to a question. God forbid what would happen if a child uses verbal response. She has two boys and loves them dearly, but the boys in her classroom were to be broken and made compliant like the sweet, compliant girls she adores. Certain boys always had lunch detention and missed recess. Admonitions of "How DARE you" were commonly thrown at them. Shame was her game, and for many of these boys their tolerance level was hardened by their home experiences and they seemed to blow it off. Tragic. She would empower her own children but not those in her charge.
We had a few clashes, but for the most part I just steered clear of this toxic teacher.
One child was her model student, always being praised for her behavior. This child went to second grade behind in her reading and all were amazed considering how well-behaved she was. This child was compliant and engaged, but not empowered. She later moved to my wife's district and is entering 8th grade at my wife's middle school.
Isabelle (she now goes by Belle) is still sweet and well-behaved, but she has blossomed into an empowered adolescent. She loves the library, and visits Jodie every day. She is part of the empowered "Reader Girls" my wife has cultivated. (She has "Reader Boys" as well, but the Reader Girls are special. They remind her of our niece, Ella, who is the same age. Reader Girls steer clear of drama.)
How do we create a focus on empowerment and not just engagement? We build relationships with kids and inculcate the mindset that we learn to grow ourselves and not just to learn material. I began my career as a teacher of history but realized I am a teacher of children. A dear colleague has allowed me to push into her 8th grade US History class and work with students. Nearly two decades of life separate us, and our friendship shares a love of hockey, history, and the fact that either she is "an old soul" or I am just "young at heart." Perhaps it is both.
"Sanders," she told me. "You see history as a conversation to be had and not information to be retained."
I will never forget that. My dear friend empowers those kids in the same vein that I do.
I had a wonderful conversation with a friend at church yesterday. Her daughter, Hazel, is nine years old and finishing up her third grade year. I told Kristin how I love seeing Hazel as an acolyte, a job I find my 48 year-old self doing quite a bit these days, a throwback to my time as a teenager.
Growing up in the '80s, my experience in the Episcopal Church was a regimented evolution of responsibility in assisting with the service. Sixth graders became torchbearers, moving on to flag-bearers, and finally becoming the crucifer, carrying the cross and assisting the priest (my dad) with duties at the altar.
My father retired in 2005, but he still supplies occasionally, and generations of acolytes characterize him as a patient teacher and empowering priest. His sermons tend to run about 12 minutes, always starting with a personal story, some self-deprecating humor, and a tie-in with the lessons for the day. He is not a hands-waving preacher. His audience is not captivated by an animated sense of engagement; they are empowered because he brings the Word of God to them and empowers them to act. One can call him "Reverend Sanders" or "Father Sanders," but even the youngest children know him simply as "Harv." Years before, he had his name removed from the church sign. The church is not Harv Sanders, not a building, but God's love empowering a congregation. It's a lesson that is not lost on me.
Kristin told me that Hazel is ready for summer after a somewhat dispiriting time in third grade. Hazel does not feel empowered. The kid has kept a journal since she was six, loves writing, and is captivated by reading and the written word. A recent assignment was to create a piece of writing and then revise it. Hazel felt her original writing was her best writing and simply copied the draft as a final edit.
She was marked down. She was deflated.
Hazel is not a compliant kid. She is a "good kid," don't get me wrong. She is not a kid who will do things a certain way because it pleases her parents or her teacher. Hazel wants to know the "why."
Her parents are masterful at teaching her the "why." She has not experienced that in the classroom.
I suggested that Kristin see if there is a male fourth grade teacher for Hazel. We both agreed that it would be a growth experience for Hazel to learn from a different-gendered teacher. My friend, Dan, is an elementary librarian and former fourth grade teacher, and it takes a special kind of guy to make a difference in the elementary setting, where male roles seem to be P.E. teachers and - less so now than when we were kids - principals.
I told Kristin that if Hazel were my student I would take her aside and answer her "whys." Why IS writing about revision? I would have offered the opportunity to edit with me and see what a fresh set of eyes would see. That is empowering.
I worked with a colleague who prided herself on a "well-managed" classroom. She has only taught first grade her entire career. She has no desire to do anything else, no impetus to teach at a different grade level, She loves the compliant children, the ones who fear and follow her without question. She requires kids use a hand signal to signify yes to a question. God forbid what would happen if a child uses verbal response. She has two boys and loves them dearly, but the boys in her classroom were to be broken and made compliant like the sweet, compliant girls she adores. Certain boys always had lunch detention and missed recess. Admonitions of "How DARE you" were commonly thrown at them. Shame was her game, and for many of these boys their tolerance level was hardened by their home experiences and they seemed to blow it off. Tragic. She would empower her own children but not those in her charge.
We had a few clashes, but for the most part I just steered clear of this toxic teacher.
One child was her model student, always being praised for her behavior. This child went to second grade behind in her reading and all were amazed considering how well-behaved she was. This child was compliant and engaged, but not empowered. She later moved to my wife's district and is entering 8th grade at my wife's middle school.
Isabelle (she now goes by Belle) is still sweet and well-behaved, but she has blossomed into an empowered adolescent. She loves the library, and visits Jodie every day. She is part of the empowered "Reader Girls" my wife has cultivated. (She has "Reader Boys" as well, but the Reader Girls are special. They remind her of our niece, Ella, who is the same age. Reader Girls steer clear of drama.)
How do we create a focus on empowerment and not just engagement? We build relationships with kids and inculcate the mindset that we learn to grow ourselves and not just to learn material. I began my career as a teacher of history but realized I am a teacher of children. A dear colleague has allowed me to push into her 8th grade US History class and work with students. Nearly two decades of life separate us, and our friendship shares a love of hockey, history, and the fact that either she is "an old soul" or I am just "young at heart." Perhaps it is both.
"Sanders," she told me. "You see history as a conversation to be had and not information to be retained."
I will never forget that. My dear friend empowers those kids in the same vein that I do.
The Innovator's Mindset, Chapter 5: Learn, Lead, Innovate
"We manage things. We lead people. That is how we will empower them." - Stephen R. Covey
I have said for years that schools model a shopping mall where each storefront (classroom) is its own entity and there is little interaction between spaces. In a mall, the retail manager may regularly frequent the food court and the food court staff my recognize the manager buying their cheesesteak or coffee, but there is likely little observation of the other's business in what makes for success.
I have characterized my role as a librarian as a go-between, able to view the whole scene and facilitate interaction. More often than not, there is little sharing except within grade levels. Everyone sticks to their own small setting and barrels ahead. It's the way things have always been done. Why change?
What does it take to break that paradigm?
A visionary school leader is one who leads and empowers teachers, not manage them. Years ago, an assistant principal would park his car at the front entrance and record teachers who were as little as a minute or two late. I had a collection of these three-part forms reminding me that I was to report at 7:30 and was observed arriving at 7:32. The language on these forms was defeatist and insulting. This principal - and the whole administrative team as a whole - saw teachers as things to be managed. The state eventually disbanded the school board and took over the district. Visionary leaders don't micromanage and sweat small stuff. I was very blessed this year to be in a building were administrators would see my work with kids, offer praise, and ask me what they could do to help me grow and reach kids.
An empathetic school leader is willing to roll up sleeves and remember that they were once classroom teachers but are still teachers in a different setting. They know that children are imperfect little creatures, and not every kid is going to "play the game" when their teacher is being observed. They value time, and know there are moments where mental health moments are crucial.
Last September, I travelled to Atlanta to visit a friend I have known since we were four years old. Mike and I lived near each other. His mother raised me as much as my own mother. We played football together, and as offensive linemen we were part of that tight brotherhood. Linemen never get the glory. We don't record statistics. We support those players who DO get the stats, and without five guys working as a unit the whole team suffers. Mike was a state champion and All-American in high school, was recruited by Michigan, Florida State and other big schools, yet chose to attend the University of Missouri, a nod to his mom (Mizzou '63) and a chance for her to attend every one of his games.
His office bookshelf (he's a principal now) showcases four helmets (Jefferson City High, Mizzou, the Cleveland Browns, and the Atlanta Falcons...he had a "cup of coffee" in the NFL for a couple seasons but used his time to get his teaching certificate), books, and a collection of toys and figurines, particularly Star Wars and Jurassic Park.
It's a cool office, but he doesn't spend much time there. We walked the halls and he took time to clean off the tops of lockers (being 6'5" helps with that), follow up with kids on what THEY needed to share, and offering encouraging words to teachers. He prefers to be addressed as "coach" and not "doctor."
A young teacher asked me for insight into this hulking bear of a principal.
"That's simple," I replied. "He is a leader and not a manager. If there is a job to be done, he is the first man in and last one out. He's a coach above all."
Mike also models learning. One morning, he was up early making breakfast and I remembered how he taught the FACS (Family and Consumer Science) kids the art of making scrambled eggs. He and his wife, Ashley, have two boys - one a lineman at Coastal Carolina and the other a tight end being recruited - and the task of feeding them is a task unto itself. When I returned to St. Louis, I approached the FACS teacher and told her I wanted to push in with a lesson on the art and science of barbecue.
I had a presentation where I delved into the regional differences of barbecue cuisine, flavor profiles, cuts of meat, and other aspects. I also brought pulled pork and smoked brisket. The joy I received when a girl took a bite of that beautiful brisket and said "Mr. Sanders...THIS IS SO GOOD!" was a winner. She showed the smoke ring, the perfect bark, and recapped what I taught her. I knew that I had modeled learning that day.
These are just several examples of what an innovative school leader embodies. We all have the opportunities to lead if we see ourselves as leaders and not managers.
I have said for years that schools model a shopping mall where each storefront (classroom) is its own entity and there is little interaction between spaces. In a mall, the retail manager may regularly frequent the food court and the food court staff my recognize the manager buying their cheesesteak or coffee, but there is likely little observation of the other's business in what makes for success.
I have characterized my role as a librarian as a go-between, able to view the whole scene and facilitate interaction. More often than not, there is little sharing except within grade levels. Everyone sticks to their own small setting and barrels ahead. It's the way things have always been done. Why change?
What does it take to break that paradigm?
A visionary school leader is one who leads and empowers teachers, not manage them. Years ago, an assistant principal would park his car at the front entrance and record teachers who were as little as a minute or two late. I had a collection of these three-part forms reminding me that I was to report at 7:30 and was observed arriving at 7:32. The language on these forms was defeatist and insulting. This principal - and the whole administrative team as a whole - saw teachers as things to be managed. The state eventually disbanded the school board and took over the district. Visionary leaders don't micromanage and sweat small stuff. I was very blessed this year to be in a building were administrators would see my work with kids, offer praise, and ask me what they could do to help me grow and reach kids.
An empathetic school leader is willing to roll up sleeves and remember that they were once classroom teachers but are still teachers in a different setting. They know that children are imperfect little creatures, and not every kid is going to "play the game" when their teacher is being observed. They value time, and know there are moments where mental health moments are crucial.
Last September, I travelled to Atlanta to visit a friend I have known since we were four years old. Mike and I lived near each other. His mother raised me as much as my own mother. We played football together, and as offensive linemen we were part of that tight brotherhood. Linemen never get the glory. We don't record statistics. We support those players who DO get the stats, and without five guys working as a unit the whole team suffers. Mike was a state champion and All-American in high school, was recruited by Michigan, Florida State and other big schools, yet chose to attend the University of Missouri, a nod to his mom (Mizzou '63) and a chance for her to attend every one of his games.
His office bookshelf (he's a principal now) showcases four helmets (Jefferson City High, Mizzou, the Cleveland Browns, and the Atlanta Falcons...he had a "cup of coffee" in the NFL for a couple seasons but used his time to get his teaching certificate), books, and a collection of toys and figurines, particularly Star Wars and Jurassic Park.
It's a cool office, but he doesn't spend much time there. We walked the halls and he took time to clean off the tops of lockers (being 6'5" helps with that), follow up with kids on what THEY needed to share, and offering encouraging words to teachers. He prefers to be addressed as "coach" and not "doctor."
A young teacher asked me for insight into this hulking bear of a principal.
"That's simple," I replied. "He is a leader and not a manager. If there is a job to be done, he is the first man in and last one out. He's a coach above all."
Mike also models learning. One morning, he was up early making breakfast and I remembered how he taught the FACS (Family and Consumer Science) kids the art of making scrambled eggs. He and his wife, Ashley, have two boys - one a lineman at Coastal Carolina and the other a tight end being recruited - and the task of feeding them is a task unto itself. When I returned to St. Louis, I approached the FACS teacher and told her I wanted to push in with a lesson on the art and science of barbecue.
I had a presentation where I delved into the regional differences of barbecue cuisine, flavor profiles, cuts of meat, and other aspects. I also brought pulled pork and smoked brisket. The joy I received when a girl took a bite of that beautiful brisket and said "Mr. Sanders...THIS IS SO GOOD!" was a winner. She showed the smoke ring, the perfect bark, and recapped what I taught her. I knew that I had modeled learning that day.
These are just several examples of what an innovative school leader embodies. We all have the opportunities to lead if we see ourselves as leaders and not managers.
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