Why Do School Leaders Need Teaching Experience?

Generals don’t have to start as privates. CEOs don’t start in the mailroom anymore. For that matter, Horace Mann himself never had any classroom teaching experience. Yet a new story from New Haven raises this question again: Why is it a bad idea to put people in charge of schools if they’ve never been teachers? This morning I’ll offer my three reasons. Are they enough? Or do teachers just feel an irrational desire to be flattered into thinking that their classroom experience matters?

broad yale

He’s betting $100 million that I’m wrong…

Here’s the background: Mega-rich ed donor Eli Broad just dished out a cool $100 million to Yale. Broad (apparently pronounced “Brode”) moved his center from LA to Yale’s business school. The goal is to offer an academic center that will offer, in the words of Yale’s leadership,

a tuition-free master’s degree program for emerging education leaders, advanced leadership training for top school system executives, and an extensive research endeavor aimed at assembling the premier collection of data on public education leadership.

Just in case you missed it, this program in school leadership is not part of Yale’s teacher-training program. In fact, Yale no longer offers teaching certification. No, this program will be part of Yale’s business school. The school leaders emerging from the Broad program will plan to take over districts and operate them more efficiently and productively, more like businesses.

Will it work? As Curmudgucrat Peter Greene pointed out in the pages of Forbes Magazine, Broad’s track record in education is not great. As Greene recounts,

Many of the most familiar names [of former Broad program grads] are familiar precisely because of their level of failure. Robert Bobb had a lackluster showing in Detroit. Jean-Claude Brizard received a 95% no-confidence vote from Rochester teachers, then went on to a disastrous term of office in Chicago. Oakland, CA, has seen a string of Broad superintendents, all with a short and unhappy tenure. Christopher Cerf created a steady drumbeat of controversy in New Jersey. Chris Barbic was put in charge of Tennessee’s Achievement School District, and resigned with all of his goals unfulfilled (and recommended another Broad grad as his replacement). John Deasy’s time at LA schools ended with a hugely expensive technology failure.

Yet in spite of this record, Yale seems eager to take the money and open a program for similar leaders. To be fair, Yale’s not alone. There seems to be no general objection to elevating school leaders who have no classroom-teaching experience. It’s not only Queen Betsy. Obama’s Ed Secretary Arne Duncan also had no real teaching experience.

So why do so many experienced teachers think that leaders should have a teaching background? Why do so many clamor for our next President to install a teacher in the top ed job?

Easy. It’s not that learning general business and management skills can’t be helpful to running a school district. But having classroom teaching experience gives people three big, necessary advantages when it comes to building- or district-level school management.

First, having teaching experience cures us of the misunderstandings that we all have from our time as students. Unlike most jobs, almost everyone thinks they understand school, because we all spend a lot of time in school as students. In order to be an effective school leader, however, we have to go through a difficult process of giving up our tendency to assume that our experiences are somehow typical or representative. In every case, they are not.

One of the first lessons of a lot of new teachers—the talented group of people I get to work with—is that most of their students are not like them. A lot of new teachers remember school fondly. They often excelled in their classes and enjoyed their time in class. That’s a big part of their reason for wanting to become teachers in the first place. It is only when they start teaching that they realize how unrepresentative their own experiences are. Working with groups of students teaches teachers that there is no single one-size-fits-all approach to learning and growth.

And that brings us to the second necessary lesson that teachers learn. Unlike business leaders, teachers do not plan to ignore parts of their “market” that are not “productive.” Unlike business leaders, teachers do not expect that some of their “customers” will not buy in. Unlike business leaders, teachers learn to help every single student that they work with; they don’t concentrate on the “likely buyers.”

Third, and maybe most important, teachers learn things about real schools that even smart, informed civilians never seem to understand. Let me give you one example that helped me understand this lesson. I get to teach different classes. I teach an undergraduate course that introduces juniors and seniors to basic issues in American education, such as charter schools, unions, and the role of religion, race, gender, and economics. I also work with people who are completing their student-teaching experiences. Both groups of students are intelligent and informed. In fact, they are very similar groups of students. The biggest distinguishing factor is that the student teachers have taught for a few weeks, while most of the undergrads have not yet.

Though these two groups of students are very similar, they have very different reactions to certain issues. In general, the undergrads are enamored of ideas such as using value-added measures to gauge teacher effectiveness. To them, it makes sense: If you want to know how good a teacher is, test their students at the beginning and end of the year. The difference = what the kids learned that year.VAM

Sounds good to smart, informed people. Yet ALL of the student teachers react with horror to the idea. Why? Because after even just little bit of experience as a classroom teacher, students learn that their students are living complicated lives. There is no simple way to slap a number on the changes that students will go through in one academic year. To assume that their teachers are the ones who are driving those changes—to teachers with even a little bit of experience—seems obviously kooky.

For all three of these reasons, it seems obvious to teacher-philes like me that school leaders should have experience as teachers, classroom aides, or paraprofessionals. They might learn important stuff at the Broad Center, but they will miss out on things they can only learn by working with students.

DeVos’ Trump Card

Why, oh why, would anyone think Secretary Betsy DeVos was qualified to serve as leader of the Department of Education?  We see a hint this week from pro-DeVos protesters in Maryland.  Secretary DeVos is tapping into the most powerful impulse in American schooling.  Schools have always promised first and foremost to do something more important than readin, writin, and rithmatic, and DeVos gets it.

First, the background: Secretary DeVos teamed up with friendly GOP Governor Larry Hogan to visit a Bethesda elementary school.  They planned to read some Dr. Seuss to compliant little kids.

Recent Trump politics, however, turned the visit into a forum about Trump’s immigration policies.  As Politico reports, Governor Hogan attracted anti-Trump ire by insisting he would veto a school sanctuary bill for undocumented students.  Protesters blasted DeVos and Hogan for targeting immigrants.

Trump’s team, though, shifted the discussion to America’s primal fear about schooling.  Why should undocumented immigrants be rooted out of American schools?  Spokesperson Sean Spicer focused on the rape of a fourteen-year-old girl at a Maryland high school.  Her alleged attackers were in the country illegally, Spicer explained.

Secretary DeVos didn’t miss a beat.  Before she ventured out to visit another school, DeVos offered a public statement.  She didn’t talk about Dr. Seuss or the Common Core.  She didn’t talk about school vouchers or charter schools.  Instead, she talked about rape:

As a mother of two daughters and grandmother of four young girls, my heart aches for the young woman and her family at the center of this terrible crime.  We all have a common responsibility to ensure every student has access to a safe and nurturing learning environment.

At least some of the Bethesda protesters thought DeVos hit the nail on the head.  While most of the signs protested against DeVos’s policies, at least two of the protesters agreed with her.  One sign read, “Protect Children in Our Schools.”  Another said, “Thanks Betsy.”

pro devos protesters

Safety First. Photo by Sonya Burke

For those Bethesda supporters and for DeVos fans across the nation, the most important job of schools is not teaching kids to read or to share.  Rather, the most important thing a school needs to do is keep children safe.

As I found in the research for my book about educational conservatism, no matter what the issue, conservatives were able to win when they built their arguments about children’s safety.  Because no one, of course, wants to put kids in danger.  So when anti-evolution protesters wanted to ban evolution, they compared evolution to poison.  When sex-ed protesters wanted to ban sex-ed, they compared sex-ed to rape.

Over and over again, protesters focused on safety.  And conservatives aren’t the only ones who win with this strategy.  These days, leftist college students and their faculty allies have scored terrific success in a seemingly quixotic campaign to ban controversial speakers from their campuses.  Pundits and professors have often been flabbergasted at the ways college administrators cave to such censorship.

Why is it so easy for protesters to ban ideas?  Because they appeal to administrators’ prime directive: Keeping students safe.  Listen to the odd apology given by Yale’s administration in the wake of the Christakis costume controversy.  Instead of talking about the politics of Halloween costumes, Dean Jonathan Halloway told student protesters,

Remember that Yale belongs to all of you, and you all deserve the right to enjoy the good of this place, without worry, without threats, and without intimidation.

First and foremost, no matter what the issue, safety wins.  As always, The Simpsons said it best.  In any discussion about schools or public policy, Helen Lovejoy could be counted on to wail, “Won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children?”  It didn’t have to be relevant.  It didn’t have to be helpful.  But Helen would always belt it out, because she knew she could never lose by harping on the safety of the children.

It’s funny because it’s true.  And Secretary DeVos knows it.  We can argue about vouchers and charters.  We can hem and haw about religion in public schools.  But no one—NO ONE—will ever win a political fight in these United States by saying that schools can be risky places for kids.

Fundamentalism and the Modern University

Are evangelical colleges modern? Or, with their insistence that knowledge has its roots in God’s Holy Word, are they somehow trapped in medieval ideas about knowledge and the purposes of higher education? The answer is more complicated than it might seem at first.

As the sophisticated and good-looking regular readers of ILYBYGTH (SAGLRROILYBYGTH) are sick of hearing, I’m hard at work on my book about evangelical higher ed. In the twentieth century, Protestant fundamentalists opened or transformed a network of colleges dedicated to protecting fundamentalist faith. If students are led astray at mainstream secular colleges, the thinking went, fundamentalists needed their own schools to teach each new generation of Christians how to be educated and evangelical.

As part of my reading list, I’m deep in Roger Geiger’s new book, The History of American Higher Education (Princeton University Press, 2015). I’m writing a full review for Teachers College Record and I’ll be sure to post links to that review when it comes out.

Are fundamentalists colleges modern? Or are they trapped in the 1600s?

Are fundamentalist colleges modern? Or are they trapped in the 1600s?

In the meantime, though, Professor Geiger’s survey of the first colleges raises some tricky questions for fundamentalist higher education. As with so many early American institutions, colleges such as Harvard and Yale represented the tail end of medieval traditions, just as they were changing into recognizably modern ways of thinking.

Conservative evangelicals like to point out that America’s leading colleges were often founded as religious schools. It’s true. Harvard and Yale were both intended, first and foremost, to defend orthodox Puritanism. Not only were they ferociously religious, but they envisioned their role in a radically non-modern way. Instead of serving as an institution that encouraged new thinking, Harvard and Yale in the 1600s and early 1700s both saw their role as passing along established truth. As Prof. Geiger puts it, in the early decades, “The corpus of knowledge transmitted at Harvard College was considered fixed, and inquiry after new knowledge was beyond imagining.”

Orthodoxy at these early schools was defended with a rigor that would make twentieth-century fundamentalists proud. Harvard’s first president, for example, was ousted for theological reasons. President Henry Dunster came to believe that infant baptism was not a scriptural practice. As a result, the General Court summarily got rid of him. In their words, no one could lead a college if they “manifested themselves unsound in the faith.”

Both Harvard and Yale made explicit their goals. In early years, Yale explained its primary religious mission:

Every student shall consider the main end of his study to wit to know God in Jesus Christ and answerably to lead a Godly sober life.

It was not much different at Harvard:

the main end of [a student’s] life and studies is, to know God and Jesus Christ which is eternal life, Joh. 17.3

In all these aspects, life at Harvard and Yale between the 1630s and 1720s seems remarkably similar to life at fundamentalist colleges in the early twentieth century. For schools such as Wheaton College, Bob Jones College, Bible Institute of Los Angeles, or Gordon College, these Puritan echoes resounded loudly. At all these fundamentalist schools, leaders insisted that the first goal was to help students understand themselves as Christians. The first intellectual challenge was to study seemingly distinct bodies of knowledge to see the hidden connections put in place by God.

In this way, then, it seems as if fundamentalist colleges—even those more liberal schools that eventually abandoned the “fundamentalist” label—hearken back to a pre-modern vision of higher education.

We have to be careful, though, before we assume too much. In other important ways, twentieth century dissenting religious colleges participated fully in the central intellectual tradition of modern higher education.

According to Professor Geiger, colonial higher education went through a revolutionary change in the 1720s-1740s. During that period, endowed professorships at Harvard gave some faculty members the independence to pursue new forms of knowledge. These professors began to incorporate the ideas of new thinkers such as Isaac Newton and John Locke.

The radical change came not only from the newness of the ideas, but from the notion that the college or university should be the place to explore such new ideas. As Professor Geiger puts it,

The significance and prestige of Newtonian science altered college teaching by introducing the experimental lecture employing apparatus, creating a demand for specialized professors and establishing the expectation that the curriculum should incorporate new knowledge.

A fundamental characteristic of the modern university emerged in the decades before the American Revolution. College, more than any other institution, came to be seen as the province of cutting-edge thinking. As Professor Geiger points out, even before Ben Franklin made his famous experiments with lightning, John Winthrop at Harvard used his endowed Hollis Chair funding to purchase equipment that would allow him to demonstrate the properties of electricity.

Just as the fundamentalist colleges of the twentieth century clung to the pre-modern notion that universities ought to pass along established truths, those same fundamentalist schools fully participated in the modern notion that universities ought to explore new truths.

An evangelical scientist, for example, such as Russell Mixter at Wheaton College in the 1950s, believed that no amount of human investigating could overturn the truths of Scripture. But Mixter (and others like him) also saw himself as an intellectual specialist, a scientist exploring the outer boundaries of biology to discover new things about God’s creation.

Are fundamentalist and evangelical colleges modern? In this sense, they certainly are. The faculty at twentieth- and twenty-first century conservative colleges are divided into academic disciplines. Each of them is expected to carry out research in his or her field. The definition of those fields may be different from the ones at secular institutions, but the fundamentally modern notion of research remains central.

At the same time, though, by envisioning themselves as the guardians of students’ faiths, fundamentalist colleges hearken back to the pre-modern roots of the Ivy League. As Professor Geiger argues about 17th century Puritan higher education, “the deeper purpose of the college course and the overriding preoccupation of the institutions were to demonstrate the truth of Christianity.”

Today’s evangelical colleges would agree.