Kathy knew there would be resistance. As a new principal, she had her work cut out for her. In a school that had a very high population of students identified with disabilities, teachers seemed to routinely accept and actually expect that students with disabilities could not and would be able to perform at the same level as their regular education peers. Data supported this perception. Only 20% of students with disabilities were performing at or above grade level in math and only 29% were performing at or above grade level in reading.
In this large, suburban middle school, the special education department made up almost a fourth of the teaching population. Many of these teachers had been a part of the school longer than Kathy had been in education. She just wasnât sure how she could convince these teachers that students with disabilities could meet higher expectations. While the community and the district office knew this school was failing its students, Kathy was cautioned by many not to ârock the boatâ too much, as the previous principal lasted only one year.
When Kathy met with the special education department for the first time, she shared with them her vision for educating students with disabilities. She expected the classroom environments to stimulate academic inquiry with a focus on grade level content. Kathy clarified her expectations that students with disabilities be educated alongside their regular education peers in co-teaching classes, instead of routinely being separated from their grade level peers. Initially, teachers and paraprofessionals smiled, nodded in passive agreement and shared their willingness to work to improve student achievement. One teacher seemed to sum it up best:
âSure, weâll try putting more special education students in co-teach classes. We all want those students to be successful. But, youâll see that it wonât work. Theyâll disrupt the other students, regular education teachers wonât be able to handle our students and weâll be back to separate resource classes before second semester starts. But, sure, if thatâs what you want, weâll try it.â
Kathy worked with the special education department chair, special education teachers and regular education teachers to begin scheduling students with disabilities into co-teaching classes. As more students with disabilities were included in co-teach environments, where highly effective content teachers partnered with highly effective special education teachers, the studentsâ attitudes and efforts improved, and teachers followed suit.
Department and team meetings often became heated as teachers challenged themselves and each other. As one regular education math teacher put it:
âSpecial education teachers need to trust us. Weâre the content teachers. We know what students need to know. You canât keep undermining every decision we make in a classroom. You canât keep giving every special education student 10 chances to get it right. We canât compromise content knowledge to make kids feel good.â
The special education teacherâs response was just as intense:
âDo you really expect a student with a documented learning deficit to be able to learn material the same way your students learn it? Our students need more time, more repetition. Weâre just trying to help them. You have to let special education teachers help in the class and not just be a teacherâs assistant.â
Conversations like these continued back and forth on a daily, and sometimes hourly, basis. Teachers were fighting for what they believed was best for their students. Kathy wanted teachers to see that students are not either theirs or ours. All teachers should be responsible for all students.
After the first year, achievement results were almost negligible. Immediately, teachers (both regular and special education) placed blame on the new co-teach classes and therefore on Kathy. Teachers argued that students with disabilities needed to be pulled out to small separate classes in order to be successful. They argued that many students with disabilities were unable to reach grade level standards and should not be expected to perform on grade level with their regular education peers. They claimed that Kathy was expecting too much of a group of students that everyone knew could not meet the same expectations regular education students met.
Yet a core group of teachers, with the support of Kathy, supported co-teaching as the best way to reach all students, including those with disabilities. These teachers insisted that change takes time, that teaching partners needed time to learn how to plan and instruct together effectively and that one year was not enough time to accurately assess if co-teaching was effective in educating students with disabilities. Kathy insisted that the school stay the course for another school year. She would offer professional development to help teachers successfully implement this model of teaching.
In year two, Kathy and this group of teachers continued to push for more co-teach classes, while another group of teachers organized to push against this initiative. As Kathy visited classes on a regular basis, she noticed a difference in collegiality between the two teachers in co-teaching classrooms. These teachers seemed to be holding each other accountable for quality instruction, assessment and differentiation. They were learning how to work together to both meet studentsâ needs and hold them accountable for high expectations. Kathy found that when she met with teachers to share effective practices, as well as failures and frustration, the dialogue was professional. Teachers were no longer blaming one another. While the conversation was still a little uncomfortable, the discussions were becoming more rich and meaningful.
As Kathy and many teachers were celebrating the successes of serving students with disabilities, they also acknowledged the professional growth of teachers. The culture of the school began to change. Status quo was no longer acceptable. While more teachers believed in and helped implement this new model, there was still a core group of special education teachers who were pushing back. They truly believed that students with disabilities were being served inappropriately. The school, as much as it had grown, was becoming divided.
At the end of the second year, student achievement had drastically improved, and not just for students with disabilities. Both students with disabilities and regular education students were achieving at higher levels in math and reading. Kathy and her teachers were celebrating this success when the superintendent of schools called. In a district with 30 schools, the superintendent does not typically call a principal just to tell her that she is doing a good job.
âKathy,â the superintendent began, âI am reviewing the district transfer list and getting ready to send it out to other schools. Do you realize that 17 teachers want to leave your school? What is going on over there? Remember, I told you to take things slowly. Are you listening to teachersâ concerns? And, most of the teachers requesting transfers are special education teachers. Are you aware that there is a shortage of special education teachers in this district? I am concerned about morale over there.â
Kathy pointed to the 80 teachers who did not want to leave and who supported the changes that were being implemented. She again explained the new co-teach model, which she had shared with him when she was first hired, and the incredible growth in student achievement scores, evidence that clearly demonstrated the new method of instruction contributed to improved academic achievement for all students. She explained that academic achievement was improving, students were being educated in inclusive environments and parents were thrilled with the increased performance and overall climate of the school. How was Kathy going to convince the superintendent that meaningful change takes time? Should she work to convince the unhappy teachers that these changes were making a difference, or should she let them move on? Would the superintendent support her decision? Kathy had a lot of thinking to do.
Nahum works in a rural county in South Carolina. As in many other rural counties across America, the textile industry once thrived, two-parent households prevailed and people that lived in poverty were on the âotherâ side of the tracks. Nahum, who is now a school principal in the town in which he was born and raised, sometimes feels helpless as he travels the worn roads to work and looks at the dilapidated neighborhoods that used to be pristine. âHow can I ever make a difference?â was a pervasive thought.
Nahum taught for only a few years before getting his first assistant principal job. He loved that job, and had many typical assistant principal experiences. He felt very confident with handling discipline issues, dealing with angry parents, managing instructional supplies, disseminating textbooks and the sundry other mundane tasks that comprise the assistant principalâs role. However, Nahum was not as confident with the title of âinstructional leaderâ. In the early days of Nahumâs administrative career, the emphasis of school administration was on the effective management of buildings, money and people. Mind you, there was no common core, little emphasis on teacher or principal accountability or any mention of metacognition. It wasnât a priority for Nahumâs principal; therefore, it did not emerge as a priority for Nahum.
After five years as an assistant principal, Nahum was named principal of Mountain Creek Primary School. It was a small school with a small staff. The children were well-behaved, but from very impoverished situations. Textile jobs had vanished, and there were high unemployment rates, many single parent households and some non-English-speaking families. While Nahum had watched, and almost predicted, the loss of jobs and the decline of his version of the âAmerican Family,â he could not have predicted the number of Hispanic families that moved to his county. The high number of Hispanic families minimally impacted Nahumâs school, as many families moved to the northern end of the county, which was riddled with peach farms. There were many farms (fruit, vegetable, chicken and pig) âup thereâ and the families gravitated north because work was plentiful. The children of these migrant workers attended Plum Elementary School, where Nahumâs friend, Melissa, was principal. Melissa spoke fluent Spanish and had been a principal for several years longer than Nahum, so he thought she was doing a pretty good job. At least it appeared that way, based on conversations they had at the principalâs meetings. Nahum would sometimes consult Melissa on situations that arose because she was experienced and offered him good advice. Nahum often thought, âI donât know how Melissa does it up there with all of those children who donât even speak English. Those poor teachers.â
Nahum had been at Mountain Creek Primary School for five years. The children went home for the summer, the teachers were sunning at the beach and Nahum was busy in his office planning for the upcoming yearâschedules, classes, the faculty handbook, the tasks he did every summer. One afternoon, the phone rang. It was the superintendentâs secretary (usually not a welcome call), and she told Nahum that the superintendent would like to meet with him. Gulp! Nahum gathered his keys and thoughts, and headed out the door. He didnât really know the nature of the meeting, but rumors had been swirling of the upcoming moves in the district. But surely Nahum wasnât moving. He was in a good place, things were going well and he was comfortable.
Nahum was seated, and the superintendent told him that he was being moved to Plum Elementary School. âBut Melissa, my friend, is the principal there,â he thought. He quickly asked the superintendent, âAnd where will Melissa be? Am I going to be her assistant principal?â The superintendent told Nahum that Melissa would be the new assistant principal at Water Tower Elementary School and HE would be the new principal at Plum Elementary. Nahum was totally taken abackâin shock. His friend was demoted and HE had to take over her school. How could that happen? How would it happen?
There was a short turnaround time, and Nahum found himself at Plum Elementary. Not only was he leading a new school, but he was leading a transformation school. He didnât even know what that was! The superintendent later told Nahum that Plum Elementary was one of the lowest performing schools in the state; hence, it was identified as a transformation school by the state. It would be supported with additional money and personnel from the state department. The state was following a model developed by the US Department of Education, and the first component of the model was to replace the school principal. Thatâs what Nahumâs district did, and Nahum was now at the helm.
At the beginning of the school year, the district leadership team met with the school staff to explain the urgency of the current situation, and emphasized that, if things did not improve, they all might have to reapply for their jobs at the end of the school year. Not quite the welcome back meeting that anyone was expecting.
The district waved the flag of support and initially sent in central office personnel every day to observe instruction. Every day, someone was in the building doing brief walk-throughs, perhaps offering feedback to the administrator (depending on the observer). They started strong, but eventually dwindled to periodic visits. What Nahum did have (after being by himself for two months) was a brand new assistant principal, Sue. Sue was young and dynamic and a former academic coach. She had a broad knowledge of curriculum and a level of âwith-it-nessâ that rivaled anyone Nahum had ever met in education. They made a dynamic team, and the superintendent felt they could âright this ship.â
It didnât take Nahum very long to identify some critical areas of need: low morale, low expectations of students, textbook-driven planning, no sense of urgency, no differentiated instructionâmany things that all needed to be addressed right now. But he couldnât possibly take on all of those things at once. He needed to prioritize. Nahum spent the bulk of his time on building relationships and changing the culture in the building. He consistently looked for what was working, and praised those things. He celebrated every small success. He recognized his teachers for their efforts and their willingness to try ⌠and fail. Nahum was convinced that in order to improve the academic functioning in the school, he had to improve the climate.
In February of that school year, the district team summoned Nahum to the district office for a mid-year pulse check on Plum Elementary School. Nahum was anxious to share the baby steps heâd seen and the plan he and Sue had developed for his teachers. However, Nahum quickly felt the meeting taking a turn in an unexpected direction. The team felt that Nahumâs hand was not firm enough and progress (improved test scores) would not be quick enough if he didnât move faster. The district team wanted more. Nahum felt his stomach lurch, his heart hurt and his brain swirl. How was he going to do this? Was he going to do this? He knew his school was making progress, but it wasnât quick enough for the district team.
He was asked by one person, then another, then another, âHow many teachers do you have on action plans?â Nahumâs response: âNone.â That wasnât his leadership style. He wasnât ready for that, nor did he feel that action plans were warranted ⌠yet. But the implied message at the meeting and the directive in the formal letter that followed the meeting made one thing perfectly clear: Nahum needed to put people on action plans. Not a âteacherâ, but âteachers.â
These were the people heâd been observing for a marking period to identify strengths and note areas for improvement, the ones he celebrated small successes with to wipe away their defeatist attitude, the ones he had to build capacity in because the line of applicants waiting to come to Plum Elementary was non-existent. What should Nahum do? Where does he begin?