Simply amazing. “Capital T True”
The belief in school improvement as possibility is fueled by research about “effective schools” including those known colloquially as 90/90/90 schools. These are a group of schools studied by Douglas Reeves and colleagues (of the Leadership and Learning Center) because they seem to have unusual success (90 percent+ meet high academic standards) with their students– unusual because 90+ percent receive free/reduced lunch, and are ethnic/racial minorities.
90/90/90 success stories and strategies are appealing because they remind us that race/poverty do not always correlate perfectly with academic performance and give educators agency and responsibility for helping to ameliorate the academic achievement gap.
But they are problematic for many reasons, some of which are nicely addressed here: 90/90/90 Schools Revisited (Edweek)
One of the problems with “90/90/90 schools” is that they can make improvement seem complex and mysterious, requiring coaching and consultation for sustainable success.
What happens in 90/90/90 schools is not mysterious. In many cases, “school improvement” can be boiled down to making improvements in the these three things:
- The level and nature of academic language use among students and within classrooms, particularly in writing and speaking.
- The level and nature of talk about student performance and progress among adults, including looking and at discussing student work and performance expectations; and
- The tone of the conversation through which these things are communicated (striking the right balance between fun, professional and respectful).
If and when these three things are difficult, complex or impossible to cultivate or accomplish, there are probably big barriers in the way. Some of these barriers- like leadership and teacher turnover, conflicting curricular programs and materials and fluctuating resources–may not be within the school community’s control. Examining and removing each one (and doing this regularly, as they reoccur) is critical for sustainable improvement. Remember that just because 90 percent proficient happened in some places does not mean the conditions are right for it to happen in all places.
There’s a book from the 1940s called “The Little House” by Virginia Lee. It’s a good metaphor for the problem with our zeitgeist thinking about school improvement
A quick synopsis: The book opens with a little pink house sitting on a grassy green meadow covered with flowers- it is well cared for and happy. But each turn of the page brings change for the little house, spread over many seasons and decades: an asphalt road, passers-by, more houses. At first the house doesn’t mind too much, but as the countryside gives way to a bustling urban center, smog belching industry, and subways, the house begins to worry, thinking “oh here I am, surrounded by progress,” and—eventually when the house is squished between skyscrapers—falls into ruin and despair. One day, when it seems like all hope is lost, a descendent of the man who built the little house comes to claim ownership. She prefers the country to the city and so has the house lifted from its footings and returned to a wide open hillside, where it gets a fresh coat of paint and finds happiness once more.
Just as this children’s book gives this little house a personality, a will and a perception, so it is with how we view schools. We anthropomorphize them, often seeing them as afraid of progress, unable to keep pace with modernity. In our language and taken-for-granted beliefs we treat schools as actors that should be aware of and responsive to changes in the environment.
Perhaps it is stating the obvious to say that schools cannot think, talk or act, but policy missed the obvious. Federal school improvement policy works on the assumption that a school building attached to a legal name is the problem that needs changing. It assumes that whatever is happening inside the school is somehow becoming built into the school itself.
But inside schools there are many different people, all of whom are acting on policies, materials and conversations that were created and started outside the school. In many school communities these things change all the time. And these days, people working on the inside of schools do not have much say about the policies or materials that cross their doorstep. When the policies, people, materials and conversations aren’t working to produce gains in student achievement, we say the building needs to be closed.
The Little House is saved when it is picked up and moved back to the country. This kind of physical change won’t save or improve schools. Real change is not a matter of pretending to make a fresh start by opening or closing a building, or giving it a different name. Nor can we avoid the demands of change by harking back to a bygone era. Real change is a problem of dealing with the institutional regularities of school. Like the little pink house’s studs, joints and frames, the structural and institutional regularities of school remain both untouched by and unresponsive to the demands of progress. Low wages for teachers, time schedules, gross funding disparities between states, disagreement about the value and purpose of schooling, Carnegie Units, grades– these things have remained mostly untouched for more than 100 years. This is as true now as it was when Seymour Sarason wrote The Culture of the School and the Problem of Change in 1971.
Reform/improvement will happen when we look at and change the actual things that matter for teaching and learning. It would help if we stopped writing/thinking/talking about schools as if they were people.
This is an example of improving a school’s leadership in a way that improves the level of respectful and caring conversations occurring within the school. More awesome twin principals, please! (It’s not apparent how these principals’ positions are funded, though it seems to be a job sharing arrangement). Like most “school” turnaround stories this one is exceptional for one reason or another, but it it offers a glimpse at how innovative ways of being and acting can foster happiness in schools!
A lot of hopes rest on the possibility of school improvement. I see it as mythology.
In my dissertation, The Myth of School Improvement: More than a decade of reform in one school and what it suggests about the American school improvement project, I share one part of a “reforming” school’s story (1992-2008) as it was built as a model of reform, deconstructed in the name of reform and labeled a school in need of improvement in 2011. The school’s story challenges taken-for-granted assumptions about just what we mean when we say “school improvement” including why school improvement is more mythology than reality:
(1) school improvement is an institutional rather than organizational problem, for which we have not yet reached consensus with respect to a solution. The existence of standards and standardized tests to match them does not reflect field or societal level agreement about the best content and pedagogical methods, or the importance and value of choice. Casting improvement as an organizational problem is especially ironic within the current era of accountability when much autonomy for school or classroom-level decisions about the technical core has been lifted from school-level decision-makers and moved to state-level policymakers, reformers outside or between the system and foundations.
(2) high levels of instability in the context of schools–especially teacher and principal turnover and fluctuating student demographics–are fundamentally incompatible with school effectiveness and school improvement; these levels of instability appear to be increasing in many school communities.
I do not mean to suggest that improvement is not possible. Rather, in using the word school as a shorthand for many different things, it is easy to lose track of what we are actually improving and when we are improving it– and in so doing we lose track of learning and the resources it takes to produce it. Moreover, it becomes easier to shift blame/responsibility from stakeholder to stakeholder, thereby perpetuating diffuse accountability for problems that have clear and specific roots in multiple facets of society, including but not limited to the ravages of poverty, the home environment, the classroom teacher, the availability of time, the quality of the materials and the histor(ies) of reform.