A Larger Public Purpose?

It's the hot news story of the week, that quite a few of the reformers out to fix public education have themselves been educated in independent schools: "In Public School Efforts, a Common Background: Private Education."

At least the political--or is it ideological?--spectrum is covered. From Obama to the Bushes, from Bill Gates to Michelle Rhee (called in the Times piece "education's Sarah Palin"), independent school graduates have indeed been putting their stamp on school reform initiatives for a couple of decades. The article also duly notes a whiff of hypocrisy, as in Arne Duncan's and Bill Gates' enthusiasm for larger class sizes; their independent alma maters are proud to keep this number in the teens.

While it's nice to see that independent school graduates are making their mark on public education, I think there are some conspicuously missing participants from the national conversation about education: independent school educators. We may show up on all the panels and all the boards when the topic is selective college admissions, but independent school folks don't seem to have found our voices when the conversation turns to the best ways to improve what used to be called the "education of the masses." We're looking after our own, but we don't seem to have so much to say about other people's children.

I'm not suggesting that we need to be butting in with "best practice" ideas on issues that may be at far remove from our daily lives and work. I'm well aware that our relative selectivity, relative affluence, and relative freedom from regulation put us in a category that looks and is privileged. But maybe it's time for us to be listening more carefully and thinking far more deeply about what we might actually have to offer to a national, even global, dialogue.

We are still some distance from being able to offer--or have accepted--any advice or assistance; there is plenty that we could be doing better in our own worlds. With all of our apparent advantages, independent schools in general could sharpen our practices and our missions beyond being very good at getting our kids into the most desirable selective independent secondary schools and selective colleges.

And before we start interposing ourselves into conversations with public and charter schools, we have some real work to do in learning how to speak and listen to one another. We're working on this, I think, but it is not our habit to pay much attention to our peers; we're often too busy congratulating ourselves on our excellence and protecting our reputations. It will take some work before we have, among us, the communication skills and the street cred to sit at the table with the Duncans and Gateses and Rhees, no matter how long our histories or how august our heritages.

But among us are great educators, great leaders, and great souls. We do some things very, very well, and we are living proof that certain kinds of practice and school structures can be extremely effective. Our schools serve students with a range of capacities and learning issues, and the mission and value statements of many of our schools speak to civic engagement, social justice, and global awareness. In our loftiest expressions, we say we want to serve. We just need to figure out how to do this as expertly as we educate the kids on our own campuses.

What we do best is teach, teach in humane and personal and caring ways. I don't have a plan in mind, but wouldn't it be great if actual educators from our schools were to start finding a role for themselves in a conversation that, as the Times article seems to imply, is dominated by some of our alums who favor doctrinaire, even hard-edged "solutions" over the very kind of education--humane and personal and caring--that they themselves once enjoyed?

It's been a very long time

...but it's not that I haven't been thinking about schools and how they could be.

A couple of weeks ago I had occasion to present at a large and well-known boarding school, an experience that was delightful and fascinating and that made me ponder the role of "flavor of the day," as outside speakers often appear to be when they are dropped in as the main course for a faculty professional day. I've offered up my share of what I hope are rousing/inspirational/provocative pep talks, and I often wonder what the overall effect of these might be. As one who has been around schools for a while, I'm aware of the potential for disparities between what I hope for and what the reality might be.

I think about the school in the south where I was brought in to excite the faculty about a whole new professional development program and the professional evaluation system that was linked to it. The program sounded great, and I think that the faculty was cautiously excited. I was to address an early morning faculty meeting, with classes scheduled for a late start.

Alas, there was an early morning ice storm, and the school promptly canceled all classes for the day--but kept the faculty meeting. The rump of the faculty who managed to slip-slide their way to school that morning glared at me pretty much throughout my whole presentation, and I couldn't blame them; I'm not sure I was really worth risking life and limb for--or at least fenders. At least the kids were able to sleep in, safe at home. Never have I been more happy to board an airplane for home.

I've been on the menu for opening faculty meetings, when new ideas presented by a stranger out of context are either too little, too late or at best an unwelcome distraction. At one boarding school my faculty professional workshop on a weekday meant that that students (and their teachers) would have to have class on a Saturday.

These human inconveniences are part of the world we live in, but my experiences do make me think that school leaders really need to provide a thoughtful and clear context for any outside professional development presentations--they need to link the "flavor of the day" with ongoing initiatives and ongoing work, so that the presenter is offering an interesting gloss or perspective on conversations that have been going on already.

I suppose this is relatively obvious, but it has dawned on me that de-contextualized or ineffective professional development experiences are likely to have the effect of live-virus vaccinations on faculties or at least on teachers disinclined to find value in the whole enterprise of professional development: it builds immunity to new ideas. If such folks were rare in our world, this wouldn't be much of a problem, but I keep hearing that they are not as rare as I would like to think. In any event, what better way to build up resistance to professional development than to offer up seemingly random speakers, no matter how high-minded and earnest?

As I ease back into my consideration here of the best ways to improve schools, I guess I am making a plea for professional development--at least whole-faculty professional development programs--tied explicitly and logically to authentic, ongoing work within schools. Whether we are talking about invited speakers or anything else, the trick to making such work effective is to connect its element to important conversations and goals that are already a part of the professional culture and the professional aspirations of the school.