Mindful Management

Mindful Management

By Suzanne Marrs

Principal, Consolidated Elementary, Vigo County School Corporation

&

Ryan Donlan

Assistant Professor, Dept. of Ed. Leadership, Indiana State University

As often as we shop locally or even dine out with our families, it is not unusual for us to experience minor frustrations, here and there. Typical examples would include how many people are usually in line, how slow the line can move, and even the number of folks who are complaining to the cashier or requesting to speak to a manager.

As we observe these situations, a common denominator seems as to exist, which steers the situation into one that works out for the better, or one that works out for the worse.  That common denominator: Mindful Management. 

In this week’s Ed. Leadershop, we would like to make an argument on behalf of mindful management and how now, more-than-ever, it is necessary to effectively lead in part, through management, rather than dismissing its comparative importance with other leadership responsibilities as part of a bygone era.

Consider this: How effective are leaders whose managerial skills have them moving in haste from person to person or situation to situation too quickly, never really addressing things mindfully before scattering off to the next item meriting attention. We see vicariously through others’ tribulations that without mindful management, most notions of quality leadership suffer.

In K-12 schools, mindful management has in recent years lost its curb appeal, as leaders have focused more intently on “instructional leadership.” In some case, this race for legislatively prescribed luster has indirectly or directly resulted in leaders’ failing to stop and listen to what others around them are saying.  With pedagogical hyper-vigilance, they sometimes fail to accomplish much of anything.

What is so important about management?   

First, done well … it allows one to be mindful … mindful of the internal needs of an organization – of people, situations, and contexts.  Our best managers have almost an omniscient, inward focus.  More particularly, mindful management allows us to listen. It involves a keen, intuitive perspective and an ability to truly “be there” for others. Through mindful management, we focus on wants and needs with a sense of understanding that often gets lost as others, not so mindful, rush through their days.

Consider Loy (2011) who stated, “In the facilities management environment, we as leaders find ourselves juggling numerous problems and projects on a daily basis. Multi-tasking is second nature to us, but in order to actively listen, we need to be able to set that all aside when someone comes to us” (p. 31).  Mindful management allows us better to listen to what others around us are saying, and apply inward perspective while helping guide and encourage others around us from where we are to a better place (Buckingham & Coffman, 1999).

Mindful management brings with it a certain degree of seriousness, as we are responsible for others’ lives.  This involves, at times, quick action, yet mindful managers know that sometimes in order to move fast, we need to downshift at times and move more slowly. This allows deft selection of the “next steps” as we address both complexity and ambiguity, or even when we feel our world is closing in and that we have a million deadlines to make or problems to solve in little time. Going slow, in order to go fast, involves four strategies that we will conclude with today -- the need to Stop, See, Assess, and Resolve.

Stop.

See.

Assess.

Resolve.

While these steps in problem solving might seem rather obvious, they are often forgone when urgencies come in layers.  As our restaurant or grocery store experiences often bring to our mind, we sometimes wish we could take a brief stroll with yet another harried manager and encourage him or her to take just a few seconds – brief moments of deep thinking – before moving forward with resolution. 

We might want to say:

Stop - Look around and see what needs to be done. Take a chance to breathe, and outline all the tasks, questions, and problems to solve before moving forward.  It is important to remember that without a clear vision, one can quickly get bogged down, while running around and accomplishing nothing.

See - Try to look at the situation from varying contexts, as where one stands on an issue depends on life circumstance. It is a mindful manager’s obligation to have a certain degree of organizational acuity allowing for many perspectives of data gathering, before attempting to make meaning of that data.  Ensure that all voices are considered, in the concerns that present themselves.

Assess - It is critical to validate what is urgent and what is important. Think about the needs versus the wants, and guide your decision-making on priority. By distinguishing what is urgent from what is truly important, then we will move forward prudently, efficiently, and also with an approach that prevents future concerns from arising.

Resolve - This is the take-the-bull-by-the-horns moment, where mindful managers make the most appropriate and responsible decision.  They then implement! In doing so, they must have a clear vision and purpose that is factual and honest -- moving through each item of importance, checking-things-off as they go.  While times of struggle will exist, we would hope that by requesting and receiving honest and appropriate feedback, we will still be moving forward.

Is the need for mindful management in schools really that much different from that of grocery stores or fast food establishments? We don’t believe so, as we ask ourselves, “Don’t we all have a never-ending supply of agitated customers and unresolved issues, each of which is most important to its owner?” and “Aren’t all of us being pressured to lead the company’s future, while resistance is asking us to manage the company’s present?”

Focusing on what is important now, through the mindful management of stopping, seeing, assessing, and resolving, will help model for the grocery store, restaurant, and K-12 school managers, how a positive perspective and a people focus will ensure better outcomes for all, when competing interests present themselves simultaneously. 

References

Buckingham, M. & Coffman, C. (1999). First, break all the rules: What the world’s greatest managers do differently. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster.

Loy, D. (2011). Hear Me, Hear Me, Are we listening to our employees? Facilities Manager, 27(1), 28-31.

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Suzanne Marrs is beginning her doctoral studies at Indiana State University and was asked to contribute to the ISU Ed. Leadershop because of her practical approaches to improving education as a K-12 leader.  Ryan Donlan is working with her in program planning and doctoral research design.  We’re quite fortunate to have Suzanne Marrs aboard our Leadershop Team, as she truly keeps us relevant. Please feel free to contact both contributors at smm5@vigoschools.org or at ryan.donlan@indstate.edu.

Golf Scrambles and "Game" in Education

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Golf Scrambles and “Game” in Education

By Dr. Steve Gruenert

Department Chairperson and Associate Professor

&

Dr. Ryan Donlan

Assistant Professor

Department of Educational Leadership

Bayh College of Education

Indiana State University

While riding in a car last week, we had the following conversation as we thought of leadership development and school improvement:

In golf there is a type of competition, “a scramble,” where four people are on a team. Each will hit his/her golf ball, then all four will go to the best ball and hit from there. Teams will usually have a best-to-worst player continuum; the best player (typically called the “A” player) will be the one who shoots the lowest score when playing alone. The “B” player will be the second best player, and so on. Everyone knows who everybody is.  There’s no hiding the rank ordering. This type of competition is quite a social affair yet very destructive to one’s individual game. The ability to “swing away” at most shots removes all inhibitions that may be related to out-of-bounds or water hazards. After all, the winner of most individual competitions is usually the person who makes the least amount of mistakes. In scrambles, the winners are usually those who make the most great shots.

What makes scrambles interesting, at times, is the strategy employed and who owns the strategy. The designation of the leader of each team typically defaults to the best player, as if that person were also the best thinker. When the team is faced with a decision, such as which ball to use, the attention usually shifts to the “A” player, who will pick the one from which he/she believes he/she can most benefit – not necessarily the one from which all four players could benefit. Rather myopic.

Some teams are composed of four good players, with none of them outwardly holding the role as the best player. In these teams we find four individuals who each have an ability to perform a particular aspect of golf very well. One may be able to hit the ball a long distance; one may be able to putt very well, and one may be very good at short-approach shots (getting the ball on the green close to the hole from inside 100 yards). Rarely do we find one chosen for a team because he/she has superior abilities of course management, restated, the ability to make the best decisions given certain situations. Sometimes caddies will perform these tasks when working with professional golfers. They are charged with “coaching” the golfers with respect to providing yardages, line of the putt, controlling emotions, or simply providing head nods as a way to invoke confidence.

As we drove on, we wondered aloud how a scramble might benefit from a player who was not very good at all but had superior skills in course management?

This person would know the limitations of each player on the team and how their particular skills were manifesting that day. He/she would be able to articulate some reasoning behind decisions and perhaps coach players to help them better understand their roles.  He/she could even help them visualize their performance. This person would truly be leading (or at minimum coaching) those around him/her, yet would not necessarily be a good player. Yet, this is rarely the case, as in golf, one’s abilities as a player seem to equate from everyone’s perception to one’s designation as “leader.”

Skills in leadership do not factor into that designation.   Does this make sense?

Let’s apply the notion of a golf scramble to school leadership. How might the scramble concept be similar or different from what is typically deployed in schools in the game of education? 

First, let’s consider the notion of playing from everyone’s “best ball.”  Do we do this?  Let’s examine.

It would seem for the most part that in Professional Learning Communities, the notion of sharing best practice would be much akin to playing a scramble.  After all, we borrow from each other’s best shots, don’t we?  Let us dissect this a bit further.

If leadership or school improvement were a scramble, each initiative would have everyone “swinging away,” as opposed to playing conservatively. Even more interestingly, we would not keep a secret as to who was best or lie to each other in faculty lounges, saying that we are all good.  Everyone would know different, and most all would accept a rank ordering. We’d have our A educators, our B educators, and those who simply could not “bring game.”  It would be obvious, and all would accept it.

As we drove, we wondered how many in schools are honest with each other.  Or … do most folks play-pretend that gamelessness is not in the room?

To take the metaphor further -- In a school scramble, someone’s “best shot” (improvement strategy) would be selected, each step of the way, from which to proceed to the next -- those best shots coming sometimes from the A player, sometimes from the B, and sometimes from others’ lucky attempts.  Yet along the way, most decisions about how to “do school” would be made still by the A player (such as which tools to use to address the challenges).  Do we in education always use someone’s best strategy, from which to build our next move?  In schools, do we defer to those who are ranked “the best” in making our own decisions as to how we play the game, or do we do things the way that are comfortable for us?

We began to wonder about the strength of the scramble metaphor.

We then talked through an example more tangible: math achievement for our struggling students.  In tackling math achievement through a scramble approach, math teachers would be lined-up and rank ordered according to ability.  The best teacher would make the decisions on the tools necessary to take the first swing at something.  Let’s say that it is raising achievement in the lowest quartile of students in 1st grade.  Four teachers are involved.  Students would then be divided to provide similarly situated groups. Teachers would each take their own swing at the problem for a fixed period of time, after which the team would convene to examine the results.  Yet at that point, could they really then move forward from the best position?

Here’s where the scramble, as a pure metaphor in education, broke down. 

A scramble would have each teacher adopting the performance results from someone’s best crack at a strategy, as everyone moves to the best ball’s position in a golf scramble. They would then move on from there, taking their individual swings for another fixed period of time, thereafter reconvening.  Then they would adopt best performance again before moving forward.

Yet, in education, we can’t really “drop our ball from the optimal spot.”  Moving forward from someone’s best position would be impossible, of course, unless one could adopt the scores and performance levels of higher performing students from the group whose teacher/golfer took the best swing at teaching them.  Like in a golf scramble, one would need to pretend that the lower scores (worse shots) didn’t happen and drop a ball in the best position to shoot next. 

Children don’t accord us this luxury.  We can’t pretend that the reality of the “next best” or “worst” approach, or even the contextual variables that affect the reality of the situation, didn’t happen.  In schools, we can’t magically move skillsets, starting fresh at a higher level.

So in education, even in the best professional learning communities, we really don’t scramble.

Yet maybe if we consider what we typically DON’T do in a scramble (but maybe we should), we’ll get closer in how educators can “bring game.”  We said earlier to each other:

Rarely do we find one being chosen to be on the team because he/she has superior abilities of course management, restated, the ability to make the best decisions given certain situations. Sometimes caddies will perform this task when working with professional golfers. They are charged with “coaching” the player, with respect to providing yardages, the line of a putt, controlling emotions, or simply providing a head nod as a way to invoke confidence.

In this sense of dividing responsibilities among those in schools, everyone typically has a skill that can contribute something. Even the worst teacher typically has something of value to add to the conversation.

Thus, in bringing “game” to education, playing smart while capitalizing on each other’s strengths is what really helps a school’s performance.  In such, the principal seems the logical choice as the “coach” of the team (if superintendents have hired wisely), yet the principal’s selection as coach does not imply that he/she is necessarily recognized as the best teacher, or even a great teacher. 

The principal should, however, be a good caddy.

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Dr. Steve Gruenert and Dr. Ryan Donlan enjoy learning from deep conversation, especially when midway through, they can detect fallacies in their own thinking and discover new avenues to ponder, those that make more sense.  Will you consider joining them? One way to do so is to visit them on campus and have lunch.  Another is to offer your own thoughts by contributing to the Leadershop.  Please consider helping these guys stay relevant through your feedback. They can be reached at steve.gruenert@indstate.edu or at ryan.donlan@indstate.edu.

Best Intentions and Blind Spots - Unpacking the Achievement Gap

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Best Intentions and Blind Spots - Unpacking the Achievement Gap

As we head into summer (vacations for many of us), have we thought about what we will read to help us better address student achievement?  Well, we certainly have at Indiana State University, with a book study (same name as this week's title) of the perspectives of two notable, national voices on POVERTY – Dr. Ruby Payne and Dr. Jawanza Kunjufu. 

Please “take 5” this week, and check out Dr. Joshua Powers' article below, formerly run on the ISU Ed. Leadershop in May of 2012. If this piques your interest, consider “unpacking the achievement gap” with book studies and deep conversations of your own. 

Summer’s a great time to do it! 

Best to you all, and thanks for making us relevant. 

-- ISU Ed. Leadershop Faculty and Friends

 

Payne v. Kunjufu:

Poverty and the College Attendance Pipeline

Dr. Joshua Powers

Associate Vice President for Student Success

Professor of Educational Leadership

Indiana State University

I recently attended a screening of the new documentary, First Generation. It is a film about four high school students—an inner city African-American athlete, a small town White waitress, a Samoan dancer, and a daughter of migrant field workers—and their experiences navigating the possibilities of college attendance and breaking the cycle of poverty that grips each of their lives.

Over the course of their junior and senior years, we see these four high-achieving students in archetypical daily struggles, yet most powerfully and fresh, we see the crushing mismatch between college expectations and potential with the barriers to attaining their dreams.  Some examples include:

Little sense for the diversity of institutional types in this country or how to differentiate one from another other than on proximity;

Seeing athletics as the only real opportunity for scholarships since that is what they know from big-time college sports on television;

Clear admissibility to an elite public institution but not applying because they could not pay the $100 application fee;

No sense that there is a college sticker price versus a price they would actually pay at even an “expensive” private institution and that as children of poverty, they had strong potential for attendance for free;

Being wholly dependent on the school guidance counselor for help and the realistic capability or even interest that the counselor has in the intense support of the needs of the student;

A parent(s) that can’t bear the thought of their child “going away” to school or that does not see why college is important; and

Choosing the local community college over a more distant four-year institution with the expectation of ultimately attaining a bachelor’s degree despite the reality that most with this expectation do not.

As I reflect on the power of this documentary, and the daunting challenge we have as a nation to provide a larger proportion of our citizenry with a postsecondary education, I find myself recalling a debate I saw a few years back between Ruby Payne and Jawanza Kunjufu and their competing perspectives on how to think about and respond to children and youth in poverty.  Payne provides a window into what she calls generational poverty and the patterns of behavior that she says pass down through generations that often lock a person in a cycle of poverty.  She also describes social class language differences that America’s teachers from largely middle-class backgrounds find enriching for “understanding” their poor students. 

Hmm, sounds a lot like blaming the victim and a means of helping teachers know “them” better, but does it serve to reinforce assumptions? 

Kunjufu, by contrast, puts forth an argument that America’s largely White, middle-class, and female teachers are ill-prepared to work with the African American students that make up a considerable percentage of poor students in schools and thus develop low expectations for them, perhaps reinforced through low performance sourced in a mismatch between teaching and learning styles. 

Hmm, sounds plausible, but how do we best prepare or mentor teachers to be more effective in the diverse classroom? 

Whatever is going on, insidious forces are at work, that in my view play out in many ways, including in their effect on college attendance patterns [i.e. rich kids disproportionally attending four-year institutions and poor kids community colleges], those that seem to reinforce a class society. 

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Our Liminal State

Our Liminal State

By Dr. Ryan Donlan

Assistant Professor

Department of Educational Leadership

Bayh College of Education

Indiana State University

In the field of anthropology, a liminal point is a developmental transition, a period of time after leaving one status and before entering another (Bennett deMarrais & LeCompte, 1999).  We can think of this as a time in which we’re not quite what we used to be, but not quite what we will become.  A few examples are noted:

Initiates in fraternal orders exist in liminal states.  So do brides on the day of their wedding before the actual ceremony; they are, in a sense, neither married nor single.  Student teachers are no longer students in the traditional sense, but not quite teachers either.  Their in-between state is a state of liminality. (Bennett deMarrais & LeCompte, 1999, p. 104).

When I think of liminal states, my thoughts turn conceptual, as I ask myself, “While in a liminal state, are we sandwiched relationally, in a fixed position after something and before something else, or are we traveling developmentally from something in the past, through the present, and toward our future?”  Reminds me of discussions I once had regarding the construct of “time,” with one of my favorite former professors of philosophy, Dr. L. Nathan Oaklander at the University of Michigan-Flint.

One thing is fairly clear to me: In a liminal state, the ground upon which we operate is unsettled.  I also would pose that it takes a bit of effort on our part to go from liminality toward whatever the next phase will be in our lives.

All that said – We are in a liminal state in education right now. 

In our current state, WE are situated after something and before something else and are traveling developmentally from the past, through the present, toward our future.  Our ground is unsettled. Regaining solid footing will take a certain degree of volition and responsibility for smart navigation. 

What is particularly interesting is that in moving through and eventually past our liminality, we have the autonomy to regress if we wish. We can just as easily move back from whence we came, even more easily than forward (contrasting it with the adolescence example, above). 

Maybe “education” has its own particular flavor of liminality. It is certainly “on us,” which way we go.

What is our liminal state?  In our profession, it is not a position midway between a focus on local demands and those of the state, nation, or world.  We have been in the latter since 1957’s Sputnik launch.  It is not a position between an era of accountability and one formerly without.  We’re currently up to our necks in it.  Our liminal state does not have us sandwiched between a manufacturing model with an agrarian calendar, and something that makes more sense.  In most cases, we’re still Horace Mann’s poster child.

I truly believe that our liminal state has to do with our centeredness as a profession.  The question pertaining would be, “Are we teaching-centered or learning-centered in our schools?” 

Where’s our bulls-eye? 

Ours is a state of liminality somewhere between a focus on what we serve up, and its result.  The following indicators are just a few examples that place us betwixt and between …

Those that show we are no longer focused so much on teaching:

Our understanding of a need to differentiate instruction for children;

The chipping away of job security for the incompetent;

Student learning, as a focal point of teacher and administrative evaluation;

Vertical and horizontal alignment of curriculum;

Hybrid models of instruction and school redesign;

Choice and competition – charters and vouchers.

            Those that show we’re not quite totally focused on learning:

The fact that differentiation is still limited to pedagogy;

A Euro-centric focus on test content and for that matter … teaching to the test;

Blaming “circumstance” (family, poverty, etc.) for lackluster achievement;

And most of all -- Treating learners in a way we would not want to be treated, ourselves.  Consider the following  …

“Nowhere else is such a large group of noncriminals forced to remain in an institution for so long, a fact that makes children’s attitudes about their participation diverge markedly from that of adults” (Bennett deMarrais & LeCompte, 1999, p. 128).

… and …

“One need only watch the behavior of adult teachers in faculty meetings to question whether adults can be as quiet, sit as still, and listen as well as children are expected to do” (Bennett deMarrias & LeCompte, 1999, p. 246).

Regarding our liminality, the question then becomes, “When are we going to own our own potency and make a decision either to move backward nearer to teaching, or forward nearer to learning?” 

And … do we have the potency to move at all?

References

Bennett deMarrias, K. & LeCompte, M. D. (1999). The way schools work: A sociological analysis of education (3^rd ed.).  New York, NY: Addison Wesley Longman, Inc.

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The Memorial Day Weekend had Dr. Donlan reading books in a remote part of Michigan.  Liminality came to him as he was re-reading a text for a summer course.  As you enjoy your summer reading, please consider offering constructs of your own that can be shared in the Ed. Leadershop, as we would be most grateful for your contribution.  As always, you can contact Ryan Donlan at (812) 237-8624 or at ryan.donlan@indstate.edu.  Thank you for your leadership and for your readership!

Addressing AAE

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Addressing AAE

By Dr. Ryan Donlan

Assistant Professor

Department of Educational Leadership

Bayh College of Education

Indiana State University

Recently, my family and I chose a restaurant’s small, outdoor patio for a weekend dinner.  Shortly after seating, three boys from an adjacent table began running around, as boys will do before being reined in by their parents.  One was about eight years old … another nine or ten … and the third, pre-school it appeared. 

No “rein” occurred that evening.

As my children looked on with interest at the tag-playing and hoopla (with probably a desire to join in until they caught my eye), the boys’ parents, two couples who appeared to be in their mid-to-late 30’s, simply sat nearby, a blind eye to the antics and enjoying each other’s company – quality adult time.

At numerous points, the preschooler stood aside our table, crowing for all he was worth, while the others darted around some large cement pillars, crayons in hands, arms swinging. This activity continued non-stop, from the point of our ordering to the arrival of our pizza.

My wife, Wendy, then said, “Oh my goodness; they’re writing on the cement.” 

One of the boys, the others aside, was using the crayons provided by restaurant staff to draw on the large, cement pillar on the outdoor patio.  Parents continued to enjoy themselves.

I’ll spare you my response, as that’s not important, but let’s just say it was “old school.”

The couples eventually left with their children, neither informing the wait staff of the crayon use nor making any attempt at redress. 

My son told me later than one of the boys often misbehaves at school.

It’s no wonder. 

He has been taught he can behave unbridled, irrespective of how it affects others or their property, as long as his parents are left to do what they wish at a distance. 

My heart went out to him.

I believe what my children and I witnessed last Friday was an affliction I call AAE, “Abject Adult Entitlement,” a growing phenom bringing indirect challenges to our schools and especially to our leadership. 

AAE allows parents to commiserate with other adults around kitchen tables on any given school night, while their children stay up late, run hither and yon around the neighborhood, and learn things from older children that they should be learning from their parents.   [Because … it’s all about “them” (the parents).]

In schools, AAE is not limited to the parents of our students.  AAE blames assistant principals when children are disciplined … yet blames them again, when children are not. [Note: Those “inside” can exhibit AAE, as it can be all about "them," as well.]   AAE results in two- or three-way finger pointing if children fail assignments.  AAE makes a delicate circumstance for anyone expressing in staff lounges, “If children are not learning, it is my fault.” 

As leaders, how are we handling AAE?  I hope not through denial.

Our work in addressing AAE demands first that we recognize what it is … how it has afflicted our society … and why.  Leaders must ask ourselves, “What do we look for in symptoms?”  “What conditions make AAE communicable?”   “Can we inoculate?” 

This is a difficult subject for me, as I must distance my strong personal feelings regarding AAE from my position as an educational leader (requiring more temperance).  In doing so, I am beginning to develop an perspective on how we can do just that … “inoculate.”

I strongly believe that the first booster leaders must give to themselves is a healthy dose of unconditional, positive regard and the ability to forgive others in advance for what they have become.  We must be all right with this, and with ourselves for doing so.

Follow-up treatment involves our efforts as leaders in creating, nurturing, and maintaining positive, sustained relationships that can withstand a treatment regimen of critical conversations, authentic boundary setting, and through such, over time … trust. 

It’s a comprehensive prescription that will address AAE when it must be addressed, while creating school wellness. 

Probably the most important thing to remember in AAE is never to express our concern directly about an adult’s AAE in front of an audience (especially his/her children).  Going in through what I call “the front door” is errant enough, let alone, doing such in front of others in a way that can cause embarrassment. 

A “side-door” approach takes a bit more time, focuses on relationships, and uses story, where we share vignettes that contain elements of AAE in other settings with the person we are trying to treat, working to plant a non-confrontational seed from which later thoughts can grow.

In considering the demands of our school leadership roles and their importance in saving lives – We must humbly consider that we are only as good as the partnerships we create between school, home, and community. Recognizing this, we must ensure that our teaching of students will not be undone each evening by those, who themselves, were left many years ago running amok in restaurants, staying out way-too-late, and defacing others’ property while their own parents paid more attention to AAE than they did, to parenting.

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Dr. Ryan Donlan is continuing his investigation into how American school wellness can be nurtured and preserved.  Will you help him in this venture by sharing your thoughts, observations, and perspectives, contacting him at (812) 237-8624 or at ryan.donlan@indstate.edu.  Thanks, so much, for leading!