Eduleadership
Justin Baeder on principal performance & productivity
Justin Baeder on principal performance & productivity
Nov 29th
Is education a science, and if so, what kind of science? What implications does this have for instructional leadership?
We typically think of physics as the ideal science – it is consistent, universal, and predictable. An experiment conducted in France can be replicated in Mexico or the United States, and the same results can be expected. If teaching is a science, why isn’t there a similar level of predictability?
This question has enormous implications for both instructional leaders and for policymakers. In the October 2009 issue of Educational Researcher (AERA), Pamela A. Moss, D. C. Phillips, Frederick D. Erickson, Robert E. Floden, Patti A. Lather, and Barbara L. Schneider take up the question of quality in education research in their article “Learning From Our Differences: A Dialogue Across Perspectives on Quality in Education Research” (38: 501-517).
Erickson explains why educational research is constantly (and unfruitfully) compared with natural science research:
The reason social science has suffered from physics envy is the assumption that the social world is basically like the natural world. What makes physics and chemistry work is an assumption of the uniformity of nature—a unit of force, or of heat, or a chemical element is the same in Britain as it is in France or on the face of the moon or in the most far-flung galaxy.
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In the 19th century, as the social sciences were developing (looking over their shoulders at the mathematical physics of Galileo and Newton), there was a serious argument over whether social sciences should model themselves after the natural sciences or try for something else.
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Adherents of what became the meaning-oriented approaches to social inquiry, the hermeneutical approaches described by Moss (2005b), took a position that meaning differences made such a difference between one social setting and another that there was in effect a nonuniformity of nature in social life (as I called it in my 1986 article on qualitative research on teaching; see Erickson, 1986). The notion was that it is local meaning that is causal in social life, and local meaning varies fundamentally (albeit sometimes subtly) from one setting to another. One of the consequences of this notion is deep distrust of the possibility of any generalization at all in social research…
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Close descriptive study of a setting, based on extended participant observation and interviewing, doesn’t try to generalize directly from that setting to others…what happens in Miss Smith’s first grade is fundamentally different as a local ecology (subtly different, despite surface appearances of similarity) from what happens in Miss Jones’s room across the hall in the same school building. (Parents know this—that’s why they fight to get their kids into Miss Smith’s room, away from Miss Jones.) Nor is what happens in Miss Smith’s room quite the same as what happens in Miss Robinson’s room in the next school district. It follows that policy evidence for “scaling up”—trying to get everybody to adopt “best practices”—no matter how well produced technically—just doesn’t tell us what we need to know as educators. Best practices, as specific behaviors, don’t travel intact across the hall in one school building, let alone across the country. (p. 508, emphasis added)
Erickson’s extended argument implies what we, as instructional leaders, have long known: good teaching can’t be measured simply by checklists of “best practices.” Some of our best teachers don’t use the best practice du jour, and some of our most compliant adopters of new best practices are unable to pull everything together to create powerful and coherent learning experiences for students.
This suggests that instructional leadership is going to remain a labor-intensive, and inherently local, endeavor. If we want to improve the quality of teaching and learning in every classroom, we will need to be in every classroom. We will need to know the research, but the research will not save us. It may give us direction and help us understand what is taking place in our classrooms, but it does not (and cannot) provide a recipe for high-quality instruction.
In order to understand what is happening in a classroom and whether it’s good for kids, we need to adopt what Elmore (in Instructional Rounds) calls a descriptive-analytical-predictive approach. Briefly, we must ask three questions:
After asking these questions, we can consider what next steps will improve the teaching and learning taking place in the classroom.
How do you see social science research influencing your work as an instructional leader?
Jun 30th
Linked below are the documents from my presentation at the WASA/AWSP 2009 Summer Conference in Spokane, WA. Use the contact form if you have any questions or would like more information. Thanks to everyone who participated.
May 15th
Schmoker says in Results Now that the single greatest obstacle to major improvement in our schools is what he calls “the buffer.”
The buffer is, simply put, the unspoken norm in the education profession that no one will question what teachers teach, or how well they teach it. The buffer is ostensibly a matter of professionalism and trust, since teachers should, in theory, be trusted to teach well.
Ironically, Schmoker says, this is highly unprofessional – tens of thousands of educators working each day with virtually no oversight, guidance, or monitoring to ensure that students are receiving high-quality instruction.
Reflecting on my experience as a teacher, I can say that no one knew or seemed to care what I taught. Annual evaluations were taken seriously, but did not occur often enough to lead to major improvements in my teaching. And even these formal observations were not seen in the context of ongoing instructional growth, but as a required opportunity to say some nice things about my teaching and make one or two suggestions for improvement.
Some of my teaching was downright bad, such as the days when I would spend a few minutes before school reviewing the lesson and pull out last year’s materials. The scary thing, which I realized during my third or so year, was that no one noticed anything unusual on those days. I was not happy teaching poorly, and tried to hold myself to higher standards, but the message was clear: I could be virtually as lazy and careless as I wanted, and no one would say anything about it. My colleagues would even commiserate with me when I came in less than prepared. Professional autonomy led to unprofessional behavior.
I have little doubt that Schmoker is right in saying this is the reality in most classrooms and schools. Because of this dire situation, there is also a powerful opportunity for improvement. Leaders must know the curriculum, and ensure that it’s being taught. They must know the strengths and weaknesses of their staff, and take appropriate steps to address weaknesses and celebrate strengths.
Schmoker will offer more specific advice on how to achieve this leverage in later chapters, but the message of chapter 1 is unequivocal: we cannot remain agnostic or laissez-faire about the quality of teaching any longer.
May 15th
From the Introduction to Mike Schmoker’s Results Now:
…historic improvement isn’t about “reform” but something much simpler: a tough, honest self-examination of the prevailing culture and practices of public schools, and a dramatic turn toward a singular and straightforward focus on instruction. p. 2
…most – though not all – instruction is mediocre or worse…educators in overwhelming majorities have agreed that there is indeed a yawning gap between the most well-known, incontestably essential practices and the reality of most classrooms. p. 2
The changes that will have the most impact on student learning require only reasonable efforts and adjustment, not more time. As Collins writes, greatness can be achieved “without increasing the number of hours we work.”
Perhaps our chief obstacle is the prevailing perception that because most educators work hard and with dedication, we are within reason doing most of what’s necessary for good schools. This is simply not the case. The system itself has prevented even the most talented and industrious among us from seeing this pronounced gap between poor and effective practices. p. 4
Be prepared: Section 1 contains a frank criticism of typical schooling. The purpose here is not to discourage but to point to how existing funds of time, talent, and money are being misdirected. That is, they are being diverted from our greatest opportunity for better schools: a simple, unswerving focus on those actions and arrangements that ensure effective, ever-improving instruction. p. 5
…the key components of effective schools are “not a mystery,” even though they are exceedingly rare. Teachers themselves agree that these practices are widely known, that they can and should be carried out by people in any school and with current levels of funding – and that these practices can demonstrate how additional funding and higher teacher salaries could leverage even greater improvements. p. 5-6
The school [that made tremendous achievement gains] set goals and identified areas of weakness. The staff made arrangements for teachers to work regularly in teams to share, prepare, assess, and then adjust their teaching on the basis of formative assessment results – a virtual definition of a true professional learning community. Along with these steps, school leaders employed the talents of their best teachers – their in-house experts – to coach their colleagues toward better practices. p. 6
Schmoker makes the case, as the above quotes illustrate, that school leaders can bring about dramatic improvements in a short period of time by making certain high-leverage changes in instructional leadership. He wastes no time in pointing out opportunities for serious improvement, and marshals convincing statistics and vignettes to make the case that change is not only possible, but an ethical mandate.
The first opportunity to improving our schools: eliminating “the buffer.” Schmoker tackles the buffer in chapter 1.
May 6th
In this Phi Delta Kappan article, Barry C. Jentz and Jerome T. Murphy of Harvard explain how a new educational leader can “hit the ground learning” rather than “hit the ground running,” in order to become established as a leader and avoid making hasty decisions.
Starting Confused: How Leaders Start When They Don’t Know Where to Start