Today is the second post in a series highlighting the worst directives school leaders have given to teachers, and there probably hasn鈥檛 been a shortage of them.
鈥楧efy Directives That Obscure the Realities of Systemic Racism鈥�
Vernita Mayfield is the president of Leadervation Learning LLC, where she consults with organizations on fostering cultural competency, inclusion, and belonging:
The last quarter of my master鈥檚 program registration began joyfully, but the day was destined to end otherwise.
Sitting in my principal鈥檚 office, he and I chatted jovially about our summer vacations before I broached the true purpose of my visit. The singular class I needed to complete my program conflicted with the weekly staff meeting after school. His demeanor suddenly shifted. 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry but I can鈥檛 allow you to miss any staff meetings,鈥� he snapped after hearing my dilemma. He averted eye contact.
I was stunned and stepped back into his direct vision. 鈥淚t鈥檚 only for a quarter,鈥� I contested.
Ignoring my apparent disbelief, he responded with cool, robotic indifference. 鈥淵ou can graduate next year,鈥� he directed. 鈥淚t can wait. Besides, it鈥檚 in your contract,鈥� he reminded me before motioning toward the door, signaling his refusal to discuss the matter any further.
Somehow, I stumbled from the main office to my classroom and fell into the chair at my desk. An internal tsunami of panic, anger, and frustration swirled inside me as I replayed his words in my head. In the eight years I had been teaching, I had never been offered a professional development opportunity鈥攗nlike my white colleagues. Yet, he deemed his weekly perfunctory review of the staff newsletter more important than actual education.
I critiqued his bizarre response. What prompted his seemingly sudden defensive stance? What shifted in the conversation that created a threat? I came to believe my request introduced an undesired disruption to the social order.
In directing me to postpone my academic ambitions, he had taken an all too familiar stance: the weaponization of school policy to impede Black progress. This was not novel behavior. Educational institutions have historically created barriers for Black educators through patriarchal practices that reproduce oppressive systems (Drame, et al, 2022). Anti-Black sentiment undergirds the hyperscrutiny of Black educators (Okello, 2022) where intellectualism is despised; accomplishments are devalued.
Though Black teacher recruitment is often met with enthusiasm, Black teacher retention is enacted with indifference, if at all. In far too many organizations, Black teaching staff are wholly embraced until they challenge long-standing, unexamined norms; elevate voices that were intended to be controlled; assert their professional independence; flaunt their authentic, cultural, and ethnic identities; or exceed expectations (Brown, 2019). Then the teachers are perceived as a problem to be controlled, if not a predominant threat. Black teacher retention often comes with the unspoken conditions of silence, blind compliance, assimilation, submission, and/or professional subjugation (Kohli, 2018).
Given the critical role that Black teachers assume in building cultural bridges to learning, these patterns can serve a larger, more insidious role of preserving systems of white supremacy.
Although this incident occurred many years ago, my principal鈥檚 directive to postpone progress is not unlike directives echoed today by those both privileged and poorly informed.
People that are threatened by the disruption of social order. People who are endeavoring to mute discussion on the contributions and genius of citizens of color. People who choose to ignore the circumstances, contexts, laws, and actions that created conditions of oppression. People who are intent on mislabeling credible research theory. People who are willfully ignorant of school policies and procedures that perpetuate oppression. People who are socialized to dismiss anti-Black sentiment.
People who despise Black intellectualism, ignore Black achievement, and devalue Black accomplishments. People who revise history rather than recount it with accuracy. People who direct educators to postpone learning that furthers racial understanding and progress. People who imply through their policy decisions that equity work is no longer relevant. People who advise you that racial-equity work can wait. You can wait. Just . . . wait.
I did not obey the directive of my principal. I took the class (and was supported by my classmates and the instructor) and applied for graduation at the end of the quarter鈥攏ever regretting that decision. Directives driven by ignorance of the racial history in this country or the ways in which racial bias has shaped the lives and experiences of teachers of color is every reason to challenge them, to fight them. And yes, to defy them. Directives have long been utilized as manipulative tools to control social behavior and preserve the status quo.
If there ever were a time in our educational history where we needed educators to critically examine directives that serve to impede or dismiss equity work in schools, the time is now. We need educators to challenge directives that mute the voices of the oppressed.
We need educators to fight directives that ignore or dismiss our complex history. And yes, we may need educators to defy directives that seek to obscure the realities of systemic racism and its persistent presence in educational institutions. Should you choose to take this brave stance, you will not regret it. Equity work cannot wait. And neither should your staff or students.
鈥楯ust Look at the Table of Contents!鈥�
Marcy Webb is a Spanish teacher at Watkinson School in Hartford, Conn., where she began her 20th year in September. Webb has been a Spanish teacher in independent schools for 30 years:
The worst directive?
I was very young鈥�22 to be exact鈥攁nd had just received my undergraduate degree two months prior. It was the first teaching job of my education career: Spanish teacher at an independent boarding and day school in Connecticut. When I say, 鈥渋ndependent,鈥� I am referring to schools that are members of NAIS, the National Association of Independent 69传媒. I was a residential teacher, which means I lived on campus, and co-supervised a girls鈥� dorm. Additionally, I coached two out of three seasons, was an adviser, and taught four classes. The aforementioned was a heavy load for the most seasoned teacher, let alone a young, new teacher.
On my first official day on the job in late August of that particular school year, I met the woman who was the language department chair. She was not in a good mood but mustered a modicum of cordiality. She gave me my textbooks. When I asked her how to create a lesson plan, she barked, 鈥淛ust look at the table of contents!鈥�
I was stunned. Even in my limited professional knowledge and understanding, I knew that lesson planning involved more than what the department chair imparted. Despite the fact that this exchange took place in 1987, it still singes my soul when I think about it. The feeling is worse than heartburn.
Why was it a bad directive? In a word, it was unprofessional behavior on the part of the department chair. What should have been said instead? If that particular moment was not convenient, then the department chair should have suggested a different day and/or time to meet.
However, extenuating circumstances aside, she had a job to do, which was to instruct, guide, support, and encourage. Instead of feeling that the department chair cared about me and my personal and professional well-being, I learned鈥攊n that singular moment鈥擨 was on my own. Trust in her, on that first day, had been broken and was not to be regained during the entirety of my two-year tenure.
Experiences鈥攂oth positive and negative鈥攈ave long-lasting impact. Those in educational leadership need to remember this when they engage with teachers; their words and actions can potentially influence the direction and tenor of a teaching career.
鈥楾he Worst Directive I Ever Issued to Teachers鈥�
PJ Caposey is the superintendent of schools for Oregon CUSD 220 and a former Illinois State Superintendent of the Year and a runner-up for the National Superintendent of the Year through the American Association of School Administrators:
I am going to attack this from a bit of a different angle. I am going to share the worst directive I ever issued to teachers. As they say, hindsight is 20/20, and I wish I had a do-over on this one.
To begin, the actual directive is not the problem as you will see in this story. Via this directive, however, I realized the massive mistake I was making in nearly everything I was communicating to faculty and staff as a building leader.
The directive: Write the objective(s) of learning on the board each day.
The accountability mechanism: Quick walk-throughs on the day of each staff meeting and reporting out (not of individuals) but of overall data on how many people had the objective(s) of the day posted.
Initially, the data were underwhelming. But persistence was paying off, and for one March staff meeting, I was able to report that 34 of 35 classrooms had the objective on the board. Progress was being made.
After the meeting, I approached the one person who did not have the objective on the board. He was a legend in our district (and our town) and actually one of my biggest supporters on staff. I pulled him aside and asked him to post his objective on the board and that I would help him identify the objective in each lesson if he needed help. He assured me he did not need help and he would start to post the objective on the board.
In early April, I did the stress test to see if objectives were on the board in our classrooms before our staff meeting. Just like that, the skies parted, and angels began to sing because we were 35 for 35. Every single classroom had the objective posted鈥攊ncluding the one holdout from the month prior.
This seems like a success story, right? Wrong.
That same objective written in early April was on the board for the REMAINDER of the year.
The ah-ha moment: I learned through this process that teachers were willing to be compliant. Most are well-intentioned and nice people who do not want to arbitrarily battle their bosses on little things. I also learned that compliance does not indicate understanding or any change of practice.
I wanted objectives on the board because I fundamentally believe that students have a right to know what they are expected to learn. I also believe they have a right to know how they are going to demonstrate mastery and why that objective is relevant and important to them.
I believe all of that would change the way we communicate, teach, and ultimately reach our students.
What I did, however, was demand (direct) a simple behavior without teaching WHY that behavior was important and how it could fundamentally shift our practice.
The bottom line: Directives, unless directly related to physical or emotional well-being of others, are largely useless. Demanding behavior without providing context and teaching the 鈥渨hy鈥� behind it very rarely leads to significant change.
Any manager can direct behavior. Leaders inspire change and impact value and belief systems by teaching the why.
Thanks to Vernita, Marcy, and PJ for contributing their thoughts!
Today鈥檚 post answered this question:
What has been the worst rule or directive you have ever experienced as a teacher, why was it such a bad rule or directive, and what should have been said, instead?
In Part One, Bobson Wong, Larisa Bukalov, Douglas Fisher, Nancy Frey, and Alexander F. Tang shared their experiences.
Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it鈥檚 selected or if you鈥檇 prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.
You can also contact me on Twitter at .
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