Coaching for Equity

Conversations That Change Practice

Elena Aguilar

• Publisher: Jossey-Bass
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781119592341
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Pedagogía
• Subtopic: Educación inclusiva

Your Guide to Creating Equitable Schools

If we hope to interrupt educational inequities and create schools in which every child thrives, we must open our hearts to purposeful conversation and hone our skills to make those conversations effective. With characteristic honesty and wisdom, Elena Aguilar inspires us to commit to transforming our classrooms, lays bare the hidden obstacles to equity, and helps us see how to overcome these obstacles, one conversation at a time.

Coaching for Equity is packed with the resources necessary to implement Transformational Coaching in any organization. In addition to an updated coaching framework and corresponding rubrics, a comprehensive set of coaching tools puts success in every coach's hands. Extensive personal narratives demonstrate what coaching for equity looks like and help us see how we can make every conversation count towards building a more just and equitable world.

Coaching for Equity covers critical topics in the larger conversation about racial equity, and helps readers develop the knowledge, dispositions and skills to be able to:

• Talk productively about race,
• Build trust to support vulnerability,
• Unpack mental models and change someone's mind,
• Observe classrooms and collect data to support equitable outcomes,
• Inspire others and deepen commitment,
• Evaluate and celebrate growth.

Perfect for teachers, teacher leaders, coaches and administrators, Coaching for Equity offers extensive strategies for talking about race, power, and systems of oppression. In framing the rationale for transformational conversations, Coaching for Equity gives us the context we need to enter into this work. In laying out the strategies, tools and models for critical conversations, it gives us the way forward.

Comprehensive, concrete, and deeply human, Coaching for Equity is the guide for those who choose to accept responsibility for interrupting inequities in schools. It is for all educators who know there is a better way.

CHAPTER 1
Transformational Coaching: A Model for Change

The difficult I'll do right now. The impossible will take a little while.

—BILLIE HOLIDAY

When you fly over it, the Golden Gate Bridge appears to be an impossible feat of engineering suspended over the Pacific Ocean. If you take a boat beneath it, you'll see the extensive sets of cables, the planks of the deck, the guard rails, the steel joints—the many components that make up the system. You'll also appreciate the strength of the pillars that emerge from the ocean to support the structure. You'll gain a deeper appreciation for the complexity of the bridge. Without a structure, a bridge cannot span a chasm.

This chapter provides an overview of the model of Transformational Coaching and of how to coach for equity within this model. If you learn better by looking first at the parts, by reading an example, and then coming back to the whole, as it's explained here, consider reading Chapters 2, 3, and 4 first.

Structures to Span Chasms

My transition from teaching into my first coaching role was abrupt. Six months in, I begged my principal for a change in assignment. “I can't do this,” I wailed after leading a series of professional development (PD) sessions in which I'd felt constant pushback.

My primary thought for the first several years that I coached was, What am I supposed to be doing? When I asked my administrators for direction, I was told to “support teachers.” How?, I wondered. Toward what end? Teachers would ask, “What is it you do?” When I pushed back on making photocopies or putting up a bulletin board for a teacher, I'd hear, “But you're a coach.” I'd want to say, A coach isn't an assistant. And then I'd think, But what IS a coach!? I didn't have an answer. There was no shared definition of coaching or of the work of a coach, and there was no agreement on the purpose of my role, or how I was expected to show up, or what I was working toward.

My school held a vague commitment to educational equity—but what that meant for coaching and PD was undefined. This meant that when I sat down for a coaching session with teachers, I didn't feel empowered to direct the conversation toward issues of equity. It meant that when teachers blamed students for their academic struggles, I felt that all I could respond with was my opinion—which made our conversation feel like a debate. I felt isolated, confused, and disempowered. And I was ineffective.

In my second year as a coach, the old house I rented had plumbing problems. Strange noises came from the pipes. The water pressure dropped dramatically. Then no water came from the faucet. I called a plumber—20 minutes later, he'd figured out the problem, and within a few hours, it was fixed. I watched in awe as the plumber worked. “How did you know what was wrong?” I asked in amazement. He described a simple, straightforward diagnostic process to identify the problem, and then a sequence to repair the problems. To me, the situation had seemed overwhelmingly complex and possibly insurmountable. But the plumber had a process. What was the equivalent, I thought, for me as a coach? How could I go into a teacher's classroom with a sequence to guide what to do? Teachers are not pipes, of course, and classrooms aren't usually old houses—a technical fix won't work in schools. But I knew that had the plumber randomly looked at pipes in my house, it would have taken a very long time to solve the problem.

For the last 10 years, as I've consulted on coaching programs, the primary obstacle I see to effective coaching is a lack of structures. I've seen organizations that have resources, will, and PD for coaches—but almost no organization I've worked with has in place an explicit, articulated coaching model. A coaching model lays out the mechanisms along which we'll get somewhere—it outlines a process; it lowers risk; it provides common language; and it assures that although we are suspended above a beautiful and frightening thing like the ocean, we will go somewhere together. Without structure, we cannot span a chasm.

Imagine now that we are standing on one side of a chasm where the ways of doing school are currently practiced. This is the side where Jabari, the student I described in the Introduction, attends school. It's the side where black and brown kids are suspended for rolling their eyes, where security guards patrol the halls, where teachers say, “These kids can't …” On this side, Jabari will rarely see his experiences reflected in the curriculum, many teachers will have low expectations of him, and it's unlikely that he'll have access to advanced math and science classes, or after-school programs, or project-based learning. On this side, school is an instrument of oppression. It serves to reproduce the status quo, which grants access and privilege to some groups (white, middle- and upper-class, English-speaking) while other groups are further marginalized.

Perhaps your own children attend schools on this side. Some children from dominant cultures are more or less served on this side—meaning, they have decent experiences in school and graduate ready for college or career. But be honest: The quality of education on this side of the chasm has much to be desired. There's still too much bullying, kids and adults are far too stressed, and lectures, textbooks, and testing consume much of everyone's time. We can try to reform bits and pieces or grit our teeth and make the best of it, or we can look across the chasm where a different reality can exist.

On the other side of this chasm, schools can be places of healing and liberation. They can be a microcosm for a more just and equitable society, a place where adults and children learn to be together in healthy community, a place where we learn about ourselves and others. On that side, Jabari is in classes where he engages in critical thinking about complex ideas, where he has access to means of creative expression, and where he collaborates to generate novel approaches to addressing the social, economic, political, and environmental challenges that our planet faces. On that side, Jabari encounters kindness and understanding from the adults he meets; it is a place where he, and every child, thrives. It is a place he loves to be in, where his full humanity is embraced.

There are two reasons why these schools don't exist in very many places: They are hard to imagine—or we are afraid to imagine them—and even when we do hold this vision, we don't know how to get there. I believe in the power of our imagination. It might need to be loosened up, it might need to be deconditioned from a lifetime of habitual thinking so that it can be freed of the toxins of systems of oppression, and it might need to tone its weak muscles. But I know we've got imagination—and I know that in the company of others, with commitment, it can grow. We humans are brilliantly creative, imaginative creatures.

I believe that you want to cross this chasm between where we are now and a place characterized by kindness, justice, freedom, and learning. I believe you want this for yourself, for the young people you love, and for the students you serve. Look across this divide and you will see a bridge. This bridge is Transformational Coaching. This is a model for change—a model that can be used by teachers, coaches, principals, and superintendents, and by any team or organizational leader. Transformation will only happen if we learn. It will not happen by law or mandate. Coaching is a structure that supports learning. Transformational Coaching can take us from where we are now to where we want to be.

Let me be your guide right now to show you the key features of this bridge. First, you'll see multiple lanes on the deck of the bridge—these will take us from our current reality to our ideal reality. One lane is all about emotional resilience. When you walk or drive along that lane, you coach for emotional resilience. In another lane, you coach teams—creating healthy and productive groups of people. And in another lane, you coach for equity. You interrupt the practices, beliefs, and systems that are inequitable. Another lane focuses on leaders, and when you're in that lane, you coach toward leadership development. There's also a lane for traditional coaching of instructional practices—designing lessons or assessments, for example.

We'll travel in each of these lanes as we create a new reality—sometimes spending more time in one lane than another, sometimes crossing back and forth within one conversation. Maybe while analyzing student work and discussing how to support English Language Learners, the teacher you're coaching will express emotional exhaustion and you'll shift into coaching for resilience. Or perhaps as you coach for equity, it becomes apparent that decisions made in the grade-level team make it difficult to implement equitable practices—perhaps curriculum or scheduling decisions—and then you shift to developing leadership skills and to coaching teams.

Along the edge of the bridge, you'll see guardrails. One of them represents the ...