So I’ve been away from the blogosphere for some time now, and the longer I was away, the harder it was for me to get the drive to develop a post. I love my blog, and how it’s helped me to analyze, dissect, and fill out my thinking on practice, leadership, and education. And now with my summer stretching out in front of me, I planned to luxuriate in a stack of books I have been wanting to read.
In the fall I skimmed “Instructional Rounds in Education”, and it was first on my list to re-read intentionally. I had my pen, highlighter and post-its ready to make notes (my husband scratching his head on how I could categorize this as reading for pleasure), my couch cushions just right behind my back, and a large iced tea at my side.
One small 3-word sentence was the first to stop me in my tracks: “Language is culture”. I couldn’t continue reading as my mind had gone to an altogether different place. I began thinking of all the ways in which we demonstrate the culture in a school building by our words, phrases, body language and tone of voice – not just the ones we use, but what we tolerate, and thereby implicitly accept and condone. I’ve heard teachers in my building mutter “idiot” as they walked away from a student; I’ve had a teacher describe students as “retarded” as she’s describing their attempts at writing out a conflict that had arisen at recess. One uses a harsh tone in every interaction with students and staff. There are teachers who speak about children – children – in the most contemptuous ways. So what does that say about a school culture? Lots. Where does that leave me as a school administrator?
I also have heard teachers express real love and empathy for students in our building. They’ve spoken excitedly about how the students are learning, about using a SmartBoard in their classroom for the first time, or about their first foray into blogging. They regularly talk about and with students in genuinely caring ways. Thankfully, this type of language is more common than the previous examples, but it is the negative that undermines our school culture and corrodes it from within.
Another point that resonated with me was the concept of separating the person (i.e., the teacher) from the practice. I often come across this with teacher who seem the most resistant to change of practice. They feel that how they teach reflects who they are as a teacher, therefore as a person, and if there is an expectation that teaching practices should change then essentially they are being asked to change as a person. No wonder they’re resistant.
Instructional practice does not equal the person. Yes, as people in the profession of teaching we are driven and influenced by our values, commitments and beliefs, but our practice is merely a vehicle to getting to a result. But we are practitioners of teaching, which means we hold a set of skills – skills that can be molded, that can evolve and that can change. These skills are external to us. If we cannot distinguish between a person’s skill set and them as a person, what does that mean? As as administrator, you should expect that I can make that distinction. If I couldn’t there would be a lot of people I disliked simply because their skill set was archaic, ineffective or contrary to best known practices, and vice-versa – teachers with strong skill sets that I wouldn’t necessarily like as people.
Embedded within this person vs. practice is the notion of “teaching styles”. I’ve often heard teachers refer to their styles, or mention that their colleague just has a different teaching style when in a parent meeting. This trivializes the idea that as teachers we have a set of practices, and undermines the need for schools and districts to develop shared practices and shared understandings when it comes to teaching and learning. Yes, we all want the same outcome (i.e., student learning and success) but to accept that we are all getting there in our own unique way does nothing to catalyze improvement in classrooms, schools or boards. The authors use a funny analogy of a pilot announcing as the plane is landing that while his colleagues may land a plane one way, his style is to not use the flaps. No big deal right? Acceptable? No.
Our school board, the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board, has adopted the principles and format described in this book. For me, it has changed the way I intend to approach classroom visits, teacher performance appraisals, conversations with colleagues, staff and parents, and how I plan to embed learning into our staff meetings. As our board continues its District Review practices, I’m confident that these principles will be visible and explicit in the process. An exciting time for me to be an administrator!