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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Bildung
- Sprache: Englisch
How leadership with love can make lasting changes, even in the toughest situations Lead Fearlessly, Love Hard offers real, actionable advice for those seeking to change the education system from within. While countless books, articles, and speeches decry the challenges disadvantaged students in low-performing schools face, no one has offered a clear path forward through these challenges--until now. Author Linda Cliatt-Wayman, principal of Strawberry Mansion High School in Philadelphia, grew up in the same North Philadelphia neighborhood where she now leads and fought every single day for the chance to become a part of the solution. Today, she is a turnaround principal and popular TED Talk speaker who helps children living in poverty achieve more than they ever thought possible. In Lead Fearlessly, Love Hard, she provides hope, optimism, and a call to action to help all students reach their true potential. Steadfast leadership and clear principles can overcome almost anything, and this book shows you how to focus your passion, apply your skills, and lead your students down the path to a better future. * Discover and develop the leader within * Take responsibility and move forward every day * Give each student the critical interaction they crave * Be a force for real, positive change in neighborhood schools Highlighting the intersection of strong visionary and strategic thinking with on-the-ground, day-to-day implementation, this narrative-driven guide tells the stories of real students and educators to show how clear principles and strong guidance can turn around schools--and the students they serve.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Introduction
1 Envision
Thinking About Your Leadership
2 Discover
Thinking About Your Leadership
3 Select
Thinking About Your Leadership
4 Adapt
Thinking About Your Leadership
5 Synthesize
Thinking About Your Leadership
6 Rollout
Thinking About Your Leadership
7 Unveil
Thinking About Your Leadership
8 Implement
Thinking About Your Leadership
9 Amplify
Thinking About Your Leadership
10 Prepare
Thinking About Your Leadership
11 Audacity
Thinking About Your Leadership
12 Seek
Thinking About Your Leadership
13 Listen
Thinking About Your Leadership
14 Customized
Thinking About Your Leadership
15 Strength
Thinking About Your Leadership
16 Relentless
Thinking About Your Leadership
17 Steadfast
Thinking About Your Leadership
18 Realize
Thinking About Your Leadership
19 Confidence
Thinking About Your Leadership
20 Influence
Thinking About Your Leadership
21 Possible
Thinking About Your Leadership
22 Opportunity
Thinking About Your Leadership
23 Value
Thinking About Your Leadership
24 Courage
Thinking About Your Leadership
25 Purpose
Index
End User License Agreement
Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
Begin Reading
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Lead Fearlessly, Love Hard
FINDING YOUR PURPOSE AND PUTTING IT TO WORK
Linda Cliatt-Wayman
Copyright © 2017 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved.
Published by Jossey‐Bass
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Is Available
Hardback ISBN: 9781119288534
ePDF ISBN: 9781119288831
epub ISBN: 9781119288817
Cover design: Wiley
Cover image: © Ready Set Productions
In memory of Mona Cliatt, my mom
Thank you for providing Andrea, Denise, and me with the foundational tools to LEAD:
Faith, Love, and Education
Acknowledgments
I want to take this moment to thank my publisher, Jossey‐Bass, for providing me with the forum to tell my leadership story. A very special thank you to my editor—Kate Bradford, copyeditor—Kathleen Miller, and production editor—Haritha Dharmarajan, who had the task of getting this book ready for publication. Their patience and insight were extraordinary. Thank you to the organizers of the Pennsylvania Conference for Women and TED.com for giving me the first platform to tell my leadership story.
To all of my leadership team members over the years—thank you for your dedication and intense focus on the success of every child under your care. Success happened because of all of you: Michelle Garcon‐McCoy, Vanessa Green King, Annetta Jackson, Syida Johnson, Evan Kramp, Kenesta Mack, Jameka McGraw‐Byrd, Melissa Schafer, Jacqueline Palone, Anna Shurak, Susan Skraitz, Jennifer Speirs‐Robinson, Mike Spangenberg, Sonia Szymanski, Orick Smith, and Terri Wiley.
Thank you to my school police officer, Kevin Dancy, and to Philadelphia police officer William Eib, for keeping my students and staff safe each day, and for providing an exemplary model of commitment to the welfare of children for law enforcement officials everywhere.
To my wonderful family, my husband, Dana, my two precious daughters, Paige and Sasha, and my two sisters, Andrea and Denise—thank you for your unconditional love and patience during this project. To all of my friends, without your listening ear this could never have been accomplished. To my best friend, Winona Hurst‐Waldon—thank you for your love, friendship, and unwavering support for over 30 years.
To Principals past and present—thank you for your selfless service to your students and this nation. Because of your sacrifice, children get to live their dream. How special is that?
And last, but certainly most important, I would like to thank God and his son Jesus for the source of my strength and the purpose for my life.
Sincerely,
Principal Wayman
Introduction
“You go!” The voice in my head was so loud, bold, and so unusually clear that I stopped in the middle of the hallway and responded to the voice with a grammatically incorrect question: “Me go?”
“You go!” the voice repeated. As I walked slowly to my office, calm but confused, I kept repeating the words I heard from the voice, “You go, you go, you go!” With every step it became clearer to me that the reason why I could not find a candidate for principal was because I was the candidate. I was the leader I was waiting and searching for.
“Persistently dangerous” was the label placed on the school I was chosen to lead. As of March 2015, the Pennsylvania Department of Education lists a school as persistently dangerous on its website “if it exceeds a certain number of dangerous incidents in the most recent school year and in one additional year of the two years prior to the most recent school year.” A dangerous incident has been defined as either “a weapons possession incident resulting in arrest (guns, knives, or other weapons) or a violent incident resulting in arrest (homicide, kidnapping, robbery, sexual offenses, and assaults).”*
Strawberry Mansion High School persistently dangerous! Was it really?
From 2010–2012, I was Assistant Superintendent for High Schools in Philadelphia, the leader of 52 principals and 61,000 children. I joined a central office team that was already well underway in finding ways to cut costs in the school district budget. Their attention was fixated on the schools that were underutilized. A company was hired to collect data on each existing school building. They were charged with recording the building capacity of each school and comparing it to the number of students who were actually attending the school, as part of a project called the “Facility Master Plan.”
After the company revealed their findings to the superintendent it was decided that one high school would close, another would relocate, and the two would merge into a third school, forming a three‐way high school merger. There was one major problem with this plan—the decision was decided solely on building usage and financial gain, not the facts of each school involved in the merger.
The three schools that were set to merge were located in North Philadelphia, one of the most violent sections of Philadelphia. This area was known for its rival gangs, high drug use, high crime rate, and a poverty level that is among the highest in the nation. Sure, the school selected to house the three‐way merger had wonderful features. It was huge. It had five floors, newly renovated science labs, a brand‐new culinary facility, and a beautiful, new library. The construction of the building was ideal for a state‐of‐the‐art school, but there was one more very important fact about Strawberry Mansion High School: it had been on the nation's Persistently Dangerous Schools list for five consecutive years.
It was my job as Assistant Superintendent for High Schools to research, locate, and hire the principal for the first three‐way high school merger in the history of Philadelphia Public Schools. The area where the school resided was well known for its violence, so finding a principal was not going to be easy. After a national search for principals there were zero applicants for the job. As time passed, I made the painful decision that I would have to move another school leader out of an existing school to lead Strawberry Mansion High School. After careful review of all 52 principals, one candidate emerged. I called her in for a meeting to let her know that I had to move her out of her school and send her to Strawberry Mansion. She glared at me with grave concern and lifted up her shirt to display a small device on her hip—a heart monitor. “Mrs. Wayman,” she said, “if I have to do it I will, but it may kill me.” Without hesitation, my search for a principal resumed.
I started to believe that I would never find a principal to lead Strawberry Mansion High School. Then, I heard the voice say, “You go!” I walked back to my office and prepared to leave the central office for good. There was just one thing I had to do first. I had to inform the principals that I was departing. I gathered the principals for our last meeting of the year. I told them that I was honored to work with them and for them, but that I was leaving the post of assistant superintendent to return to the ranks as principal. The rumor had already circulated. I was just making it official. Then I announced that I would be the new Principal of Strawberry Mansion High School to oversee the merger of the three high schools in our division. I told them that the students in those three schools were my responsibility.
I was raised in North Philadelphia, blocks away from Strawberry Mansion High School, in poverty with my mom and two sisters. My mom always told us that education would be our only way out. She would often tell us “education can change your life.” She was right. It changed my life. I experienced firsthand the transformational power of education and desperately wanted all of the 61,000 high school students in the School District of Philadelphia to experience that same power. My story from poverty to endless possibilities has helped form the purpose for my work, why I do what I do. It is my life purpose to pull as many children out of poverty as I can, even if the school they will attend is labeled “persistently dangerous.”
Why do you do what you do? Why do you lead? What is the purpose in your leadership? These are some of the questions I want to address in this book.
I am also writing this book because there is so much focus on highlighting and decrying the myriad challenges facing educators today who choose to educate adolescents who live in poverty, yet there is very little information that focuses on how to succeed in spite of those daunting challenges. What has to be remembered is that there are literally millions of children whose lives depend on schools with all types of discouraging labels, so we have a moral imperative to succeed for them today, even in the midst of an incredibly imperfect system. So much of the heated debate about education is about improving systems from without. This book is intended to guide and inspire those who choose to lead from within. Rather than offering policy prescriptions or systematic reform strategies, leadership is the focus. I seek to inspire optimism and provide an example of what is possible when leaders take the lead on solving problems in any organization, no matter how daunting the task.
This book is not only for school leaders. It is intended for the public sector, nonprofits, and private businesses in need of turnaround leadership. I begin each chapter with a single word. Read it to yourself and then say it aloud with confidence. There is power in each of these words. Each word should remind you of an action, behavior, or mindset needed to lead a turnaround effort in any organization.
Then come along with me as I tackle real situations in my quest to keep my students and staff safe, and to educate them. Join me on my leadership journey, and learn why I answered the call to lead this persistently dangerous school when no one else would do so. Finally, discover why leadership makes all the difference when a school or company is off course.
As we take this journey together, I have included a section just for you at the end of each story: the “Thinking About Your Leadership” section. I would like for you to pause and reflect on “YOU” as the leader, just as I did before concluding each chapter. This is the section where I wrote my story takeaways to help me focus my actions and behaviors as a leader. I have also included an “Examine Attentively” phrase that is a shorter version of my lesson takeaways for you to apply to your leadership mission. Read each word carefully and consider how you can use the word to guide your leadership. I also have included a “Questions for You” section. Sometimes reflection questions prompt more questions that could lead to answers in a particular situation. You may choose to read all three or just one reflection method. They are intended as a vehicle for us to take this leadership journey side by side, because, as you know, leadership can be lonely.
A final note: all of my stories are true, and some of my actions may not be typical. Leading a notorious persistently dangerous school called for unconventional tactics in order for my students, staff, and teachers to go home safely each night, and in order for my students to be educated. If you are faced with leading an organization in need of turnaround, make no apologies for your unconventional leadership, because I make no apologies for mine. As I always say, “If you are going to lead, you must LEAD.” Lead boldly to reach your goals, and watch what you discover about yourself in the process.
Note
*
“Pennsylvania Unsafe School Choice Option: Frequently Asked Questions,” last modified March 2015,
www.education.pa.gov/Documents/Teachers-Administrators/No%20Child%20Left%20Behind/Unsafe%20School%20Choice%20Option%20FAQs.pdf/
.
1Envision
“I will take the blue one,” I thought to myself. Prior to my start date, I was asked to select a chair for my new office. I decided on a beautiful, blue leather high back chair. At the time, I did not know why I selected the color blue. From what I could remember, every principal I ever had over my 20‐year career always had a black chair. I had never seen a principal with a blue chair; yet somehow, I was drawn to the blue one. The moment I laid eyes on it, I knew there was something special about that blue chair. It was a different shade of blue, not ocean blue or royal blue, but a dull blue that stood out in the catalog. When the chair arrived, it was what I expected. It was comfortable, it made me feel important, and it gave off a sense of peace.
When I arrived to work at Fitzsimons High School early the morning of November 1, 2003, I sat in that blue chair. I started to wonder about my journey to this place, in this seat, and in this position—a principal with a big fancy office, a beautiful, blue leather chair, and a private bathroom. How did I get here? It was always my dream to be a great teacher, but being a principal far surpassed my vision of myself growing up poor in the same neighborhood where this school resided. Ironically, my grandmother owned a home directly across the street from Fitzsimons, and my family church, Trinity African Methodist Episcopal was on the corner. My family had belonged to that church for approximately 135 years.
Fitzsimons High School had changed over the years. It was once a junior high school. Then it became a middle school, and in 2002, it began its transformation into a gender‐separate high school. It would have two separate schools in one building—one for young women, and one for young men. Each school would have its own principal. I was the principal for the young women at Fitzsimons.
I was feeling proud of myself when I was suddenly interrupted by girls screaming “Get her, get her!” followed by thumps, and then more thumps. I jumped up out of my chair and quickly opened my office door. I saw multiple girls and their families fighting each other. There were a lot of people fighting. Crazy fighting. . . . I could not believe it was girls, high school girls and women. It was like a gang fight, a street brawl, but it was inside of the school. Hair and blood were on the floor. It was a terrible sight. I quickly charged into the fight in an attempt to stop them from beating each other to death. In my effort to stop them from fighting, I grabbed the arm of one girl in the midst of her attempt to pound on another girl. She looked at me in a very hateful way and yelled, “Get the F‐‐‐ off of me!” I did not release her right away. I held onto her arm firmly. She said again, “Get the F‐‐‐ off of me.” This time, I released my grip, because I thought to myself she must have me confused with someone else. Then I remembered that today was my first day as a principal, my first day as a principal ever. After working as a classroom teacher for 20 years, I had left to join Fitzsimons as a new teacher coach in September 2003. Two months later, I was named principal. My boss, Mr. Clayton, told me privately when he assigned me to Fitzsimons to be a teacher coach that there would be plenty of opportunities for advancement. I guess he was right.
How could she know that I was the principal?
After releasing my grip, I waited for the police to assist me in getting the fight under control. Once everything had calmed down, I announced for all the classes to come to the auditorium immediately. Before anything else could occur, I had to let the students and staff know that I was the new principal. Over the public address system, I asked every teacher to escort his or her classes to the auditorium. “Are you sure you want to do that?” asked one of the teachers. I did not answer her. I just made my way to the auditorium. As I stood on the stage, I could not believe my eyes. It looked like a scene from the movie Lean on Me, but worse. Students were running down the aisles and jumping over seats. The teachers did not know where their students were in the auditorium. The students were loud, using an excessive amount of profanity, and yelling at the teachers for trying to make them have a seat. They simply refused to be redirected. At that split second, I understood what the teacher was implying when she asked, “Are you sure you want do that?” By the way they entered the auditorium, you could tell that they had not been to the auditorium in a long time for any kind of meaningful program. The teachers, most of them first‐year teachers, did not know what to do. They made no attempt to bring their students to order. They just stood, staring and waiting for the next huge fight to break out the way it had happened moments before near the main office. I froze, and stared out into the crowd from the stage. Holding the microphone, I murmured quietly, “What in the world did I get myself into?”
Instead of looking at the students, the teachers stared at me as if to say “She must be crazy for taking the job as principal.” I wondered if any of them thought I was some sort of savior. Many of them seemed to want to burst into tears.
I focused my attention back to the students and tried to regain order in the room. I kept saying, “Young ladies! Young ladies, please take your seats.” Using a demanding tone, I said, “Teachers, please stand near your children.” I kept repeating that over and over until my voice echoed loudly over theirs. Then, in a harsh, bold tone this time, with my patience wearing thin, I said, “Sit down and close your mouths, or you will leave this auditorium and spend a few days at home with your parents.” I did not know whether my tone or my threat got their attention. I signaled for the police to come into the room and remove anyone who would not sit down. Soon, the noise died down. There was still faint talking, but I could be heard over their voices. I said very loudly, boldly, and proudly to them all, “In case you do not know who I am, I am Mrs. Wayman, and I am your new principal.” The children started to laugh and were totally uninterested by my announcement. They looked at me as if to say “So what?” The title “Principal” meant nothing to them. Why?
The teachers, on the other hand, did not know what to think. They had started the first two months without a principal, and because I had been working as a new teacher coach in the building, I knew they were accustomed to doing whatever they wanted to do, when they wanted to do it. While they were all still digesting the news that I was the new principal, I proceeded to list my expectations for their behavior and what they would learn in school. Then, suddenly, a young girl stood up in the rear of the auditorium and shouted, “Miss, Miss!” I tried to ignore her because she was yelling completely out of turn. She was loud and out of her seat. Despite my desire to ignore her for speaking out of turn, she continued to yell, “Miss, Miss!” Finally, our eyes locked. We stared at each other and she said again, “Miss, Miss!” this time adding, “Why do you keep calling this a school? This is not a school.” I stood there speechless. I repeated her statement to myself over and over again. There it was, summed up in five words. This is not a school. That is what I was thinking when I walked up on the stage and looked into the audience. I could not figure out where I had seen this scene before. Then I remembered my own high school auditorium in 1976, in a school not too far from this one. That was when I first encountered the disparities in the educational system in Philadelphia for myself. We sat in the auditorium waiting to get our rosters and class assignments, and it was total chaos for a very long time. It was not what I was used to, coming from a school outside of the poverty‐stricken area that I called home.
I quickly processed what she had shouted. (This is not a school!) Then, I responded by saying, “I am calling it a school because it is a school.” She said, in a much softer, concerned voice, “No, it is not.” I asked the young woman, “Then what is it, if it is not a school?” “Just a place to hang out,” she replied. Everyone started screaming and laughing in loud agreement. For them, school was a place to hang out. I digested this with horror. I wondered if they ever took the time to look around the neighborhood when they walked to school. Did they understand that a good education could improve their quality of life? Why couldn't they see opportunity in their school? Why were they unable to see their school as a school?
After that exchange, I sent everyone back to class. I returned to my office and sat in my new, blue leadership chair, and started asking myself some questions. Why did the word “Principal” mean nothing to them? Why did they see school as a place to hang out? More importantly, why did they not see that education could change their lives? I had so many questions that needed answers. As I sat in my blue leadership chair praying that another fight did not break out, I could not forget the young girl's question, “Why do you keep calling this a school?” More importantly, I could not forget how she answered her own question, “This is not a school.”
I sat in that blue chair, and closed my eyes. There it was, the catalyst to all of the problems in the school: the reason for all of the violence; the reason for the school being given to an educational management company to manage for low academic performance; the reason why 70 percent of the teaching staff were a combination of first‐year teachers or first‐time teachers to the school; the reason why they could not find a principal, and solicited a new teacher coach to be principal in the middle of the school year. Fitzsimons was not a school.
The more I thought about it, the more outraged I became. I was mad at everybody: mad at the students for fighting; mad at their parents for helping them physically fight, but not fighting collectively for their children to be properly educated; mad at this place that had not been properly managed, so it had to be managed by outsiders; mad at the principals before me who allowed this place to get so out of control that the students now did not see it as a school. Then I remembered that I was the one who agreed to be the leader of this failing organization. I knew many of the facts before I consented to lead. I knew it was low‐ performing and dangerous, and I still chose to lead it. So, I realized that I had no one else to blame but myself for making it my responsibility to make this “place to hang out” into a school. The problem was now all mine. And I knew I had to save this organization because there was too much at stake. As a leader, I had to face the brutal fact that if I failed, hundreds of children would be uneducated and doomed to live in poverty. And if you had ever lived in poverty, as I had as a child, you would not want that life for anyone. So I made up my mind that I had to make that school a school.
A student created the vision for the school going forward on my first day as principal. It was my job as a leader to make that vision a reality.
Thinking About Your Leadership
Clear vision and owning the responsibility to achieve that vision is the job of a turnaround leader. Before going into battle, a turnaround leader must know what he or she envisions for the organization before forming a shared vision.
Examine Attentively:
Your vision for the organization you are leading.
Questions for You:
What is
your
vision for the organization?
Can you articulate it to others without hesitation?
2Discover
My vision was clear. I had to make the “place to hang out” into a school. To do that, I first needed to discover why exactly it wasn't a school. Let's remember what schools were intended to do: provide education and mental toughness so that children could live a long, happy life and contribute to the world around them in a very positive way. Schools were instituted to help poor children escape poverty. Public schools were formed by our forefathers to help level the playing field, so that we all could enjoy life and liberty, and pursue happiness.
For everyone else in that room, the student's comment meant nothing and they probably could not understand why I reacted so strongly to it. If you have ever been in a school that was not a school, then you would understand the pain of that comment. The statement cut though me like a knife. All the pain of attending an underperforming school in my neighborhood came rushing back. Why did I beg my mother to let me go there?
I knew the answer to my own question the moment I thought of it. I wanted to walk to school with my friends. I was tired of riding the bus to school for over an hour, only to wonder whether my sister and I would get home safely due to the racial tension in the northeast section (where I was being bussed as part of the district's desegregation program). That program had its challenges, but I soon discovered that what I had to endure from the educational system in my own neighborhood was far worse.
When the student said “This is not a school,” I thought about all of the students in my class who could not read with fluency or read at all. When the teacher asked for volunteers to read, the room would grow silent—because everyone knew there were no volunteers. He would have to call on someone, and the thought of that happening left everyone paralyzed. How is it possible to go to school for nine years and not be able to read? I remembered wondering about this when I was in high school. I could still see many of my teachers sitting there reading their newspapers when they were supposed to be teaching. I thought about all the excessive talking by the students in the classroom when there was a teacher trying to teach. I remembered the teachers getting so fed up by the disrespect and the noise that they would sit down and tell us, “Okay, you do not want to listen? Fine, you just remember: I got mine, you have to get yours.” That was the tagline every time they did not want to teach. “I got mine, you have to get yours.” This was their abbreviated way of saying, “I have my education; you have to get your education.” Get my education—from where, if not from the teacher? I thought about the large number of books copied from the duplicating machine because there were not enough copies to go around, just so we would have something to read. I thought about how difficult college was for me, and how close I came to failing because I did not learn all the content I was supposed to learn in high school that my roommate from another county in Pennsylvania had. I thought about my high school principal and wondered whether she knew that many of the teachers were not teaching. I never saw the principal in a classroom when I was in high school. Did she know that there were a few great teachers who tried to make a difference, but had a difficult time making up for lost years in our education?
I was the principal now. I wanted to know why these students, 36 years after my experience, felt that this was not a school.
So in the days that followed my first day as principal, I made it my business to find out. I was the leader with the vision, so I had to know fully what I was dealing with before I proceeded. I had to understand every area of this organization in order to make my vision a reality. I had to observe and make note of everything that needed fixing to make this school a school.
In my quest for understanding the source of the student's frustration, what I discovered was heartbreaking and unimaginable, even for me as a 20‐year veteran teacher. I thought I had seen it all, until I saw it through the lens of a principal. The leader. The person responsible. I discovered a room with mirrors (and no, that's not a metaphor). I could not imagine what a school would need with a room full of mirrors. When I asked a staff member, she said, “Oh, that is the room where the students go to braid their hair when they are good in class.” I was told that the previous principal knew about the room. The more I learned about the school, the more “Why do you keep calling this a school?” played over and over again in my mind.
I walked into a teacher's classroom to conduct an informal observation of her teaching practices. All of the desks were pushed to the back of the room and the students were jumping rope. When I asked her why they were jumping rope, she told me that it was a math lesson. I'm sure there are ways to use activities like jumping rope in math lessons, but I didn't think that was the case here. So I asked her to show me the lesson plan that called for jumping rope. She did not have such a plan. I flashed back to my college days once more as I put an immediate end to the rope jumping. I thought about being tutored around the clock when I was failing math, because I had never seen that content before. My roommate would say, “Linda, you should have learned this in high school.” I never saw any of it in high school. (Why do you keep calling this a school?)
When I questioned the teachers about their lesson plans, one of them said, “I was told nothing. I asked the principal specifically about lesson plans, and she just looked at me like that was a bizarre question.” The teachers' contract requires that teachers prepare weekly plans. I thought about my years in the classroom and I remember being asked to write lesson plans, but they were only reviewed when I was formally observed. I only remember receiving feedback on them a few times in 20 years. How would the principal know what and how the teachers were teaching if they never reviewed the teachers' lesson plans? Detailed lesson plans with clear goals in mind are the foundation for successful student learning. Lesson plans assure that time is used wisely, all standards are taught, student needs are met, and knowledge is acquired. Lesson plans are most effective when they are well thought out in writing, reviewed, implemented as written, revised if needed, include differentiation strategies, and include an assessment that is tied to the learning objective. At Fitzsimons, lesson planning did not happen. No planning equaled no progress! (Why do you keep calling this a school?)
It was approaching the time for report card conferences, and I noticed I had a stack of report cards that did not have grades on them. I called one teacher into my office to ask him why his grades were not on the report card. He responded in a very nasty tone that they weren't submitted because he did not have a computer in his classroom. I reminded him that there were several computer labs in the school, to which he responded, “When you put a computer in my room, I will give them grades.” (Why do you keep calling this a school?)
There were no individual rosters for the students, so they traveled in cohorts like elementary school children. They received English instruction for 110 minutes for only half the year, when most of the students could not read or write proficiently. An entire roster had to be built from scratch. So every student and teacher received a new roster mid‐year. It was the right thing to do. (Why do you keep calling this a school?)
There was no system for discipline in place. The students did what they wanted to do. The students did not respect the teachers, and many of the teachers did not respect the students. There were no activities going on in the school. It was just chaos at every turn.
Why do you keep calling this a school?
Now that I had discovered so many examples that caused confusion in the minds of the students, I had tangible reasons why, in their eyes, this was not a school. It was time to act.
Thinking About Your Leadership
Organizations that are failing need turnaround leaders. They lead the charge to take the organization in a positive direction. Discover all or most of the challenges before proceeding. It is best to conduct your own investigation. Act on any challenge that needs immediate attention. You are the leader. You have the vision. Before attacking the challenges, you must observe, make notes, think, and remember what is at stake.
Examine Attentively:
All the challenges in every area of your organization, then act.
Questions for You:
Knowing your present organization's challenges, can you visualize where you want the organization to be at the end of
your
term as leader?
Are you prepared to ask the hard questions about the organization and to hear the real answers?
3Select
Leading is very difficult. At the beginning of this transformation effort, I felt alone. But I knew it was my purpose, and I knew what was at stake; and those two understandings kept me focused. I was determined not to fail. I could not fail.
After discovering and documenting all of the challenges involved in making Fitzsimons a better school, I set out to correct each and every one of them. I separated my challenges into three categories: building relationships; teaching and learning; and school safety.
I worked as hard as I could to rectify the problems that stood in the way of reaching my goal, but I was keenly aware that I had to create a leadership team if real sustainable change was going to happen. It was impossible to do alone. I needed the support of my own team. Sure, there was a leadership team in place when I entered Fitzsimons, but it was not my team. So I started to build a team one selection at a time. I had to enter the new school year armed with what and whom I needed to succeed.
