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ОглавлениеCHAPTER l
Clinical Supervision
Improving Classroom Instruction
Like many things in my life, my first opportunity to study best practices for improving student learning—my work with Jerry Bellon on clinical supervision—was accidental. In my mind, the journey began at Brainerd High School in Chattanooga, Tennessee, in 1968, with my first teaching position. But perhaps it began even earlier, when I was an undergraduate.
I have generally paid attention to suggestions and advice from others, especially people I know well and admire. However, in college, there was one piece of advice I chose not to accept. I chose to major in history and become a teacher, despite many friends pointing out that teaching positions in history were few and far between, and if I didn’t become a teacher, what employment could I count on with a degree in history?
Regardless of the odds, I stuck with it. I enjoyed my history classes, and without exception, I enjoyed my history professors at the University of Chattanooga. In the 1960s, the University of Chattanooga was still a small private liberal arts university, only later becoming part of the University of Tennessee system. I thrived in such a place. The classes were small, I got to know my professors, and they likewise knew me. I decided to stick with history, believing that somehow I would be able to get a teaching position following graduation.
A huge break came when I was assigned to Brainerd High School for my student teaching experience. In the late 1960s, Brainerd was considered by many to be the top public high school in the Chattanooga public school system, both academically and athletically. The school had only been open a few years (my wife, Star, was in the first graduating class) and was located in an upper-middle-class section of the city.
I can’t remember anything remarkable about the experience, except that it gave the principal and others the opportunity to know me, both personally and as a teacher. However, the prospects of attaining a teaching position there were very bleak. The history staff had been at the school since it had opened, and since none were near retirement, no openings were likely in the foreseeable future.
And then, a stroke of luck! One of the history teachers at Brainerd accepted a position at a nearby community college, and I was offered his position. At the time, I didn’t realize there was a storm brewing at Brainerd and in the larger Chattanooga community—a storm that would set my life on a new, and profoundly different, path.
Although over a decade had passed since the Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954) decision, by and large Chattanooga’s public schools remained segregated. Of Brainerd’s approximately twelve hundred students, just over a hundred were African American. Through the lens of the white population of the school—both students and adults—race relations seemed to be very positive, especially since some of the star athletes were black students.
As the number of African American students increased, however, so did their confidence and willingness to air their grievances. In retrospect, it’s astonishing that most white students and adults were surprised when black students expressed displeasure regarding the school’s nickname (the Rebels), fight song (“Dixie”), and logo (the Confederate flag).
In 1969, conflict erupted when word spread that the principal had met with a group of black students and was considering changing the offending symbols. Brainerd’s white students walked out of the school and gathered on the front lawn and in the parking lot. After some time, the principal met with them and assured them that no real consideration was being given to changing the name, the fight song, or the flag. Word of this news also spread, and as the white students walked back into their classes, the black students walked out!
Over the next few days, tensions intensified and ultimately stretched beyond the school. People with no connection to the school rode through predominately black neighborhoods of Chattanooga flying Confederate flags from their cars. Shots were fired into the air. Groups such as the John Birch Society joined in the fray by contending students had every right to not only support the school symbols but to proudly display them on their clothing, even though doing so was obviously provocative. The situation worsened to the point that some small but serious riots broke out, and the school was closed as district leaders struggled to find a solution.
At the time of these events, I was serving as dean of students and trying to de-escalate the conflict. Obviously, if the symbols remained, the black students were going to continue to protest, and the potential for more serious rioting was real—along with the likelihood that the rioting could spread throughout the city. As we struggled to find a solution, someone at the district office suggested the Educational Opportunity Planning Center at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville as a possible resource.
As school districts all over Tennessee were grappling with how to successfully desegregate, the University of Tennessee had received a federal grant to create the Educational Opportunity Planning Center to assist districts as they struggled with both practical and cultural issues associated with school desegregation. Dr. Fred Venditti served as director of the center and agreed to offer the center’s assistance with the problems in Chattanooga. Ultimately, the Confederate symbols and fight song were changed, and although the climate remained tense, eventually things returned to order.
I have been blessed by the people who have helped and encouraged me along my life’s journey, and certainly Fred Venditti was one of those people. Fred changed my life trajectory without really realizing the full effect of what he was doing. We got to know each other during his days of meeting with faculty and student groups at Brainerd, and eventually, Fred asked if I had ever considered pursuing a doctoral degree.
With Fred’s encouragement, as well as a rather sizable bank loan, I applied for and was accepted into the doctoral program at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville. Fred’s efforts to ease racial tensions at Brainerd High School had little impact on the school’s culture, but his encouragement and support had a huge impact on me, and I have been forever grateful. Although Fred and I were friends until his death, I did not ask him to chair my doctoral committee. Instead, I turned to Jerry Bellon, the new chair of the Department of Curriculum and Instruction. Little did I realize the positive impact this decision would have on my life, both professionally and personally.
Jerry Bellon and Clinical Supervision
To say that I was unprepared for doctoral study is an understatement. I was confident academically, but I really did not have a clue about the processes and procedures for advanced graduate study at a major university. When Star and I arrived in Knoxville in March for the beginning of the spring quarter of classes, I assumed I should enroll in classes and get underway, which is exactly what I did.
I registered for three or four doctoral-level courses that first quarter. I simply selected courses I thought would be interesting and helpful. Since my background was history, I enrolled in a doctoral history course taught by a visiting professor from Yale University. Given my recent experiences with race relations at Brainerd High School, I was interested in his course in African American history. Only five or six students were enrolled, and in the first class meeting, I was taken aback when the professor assigned six books to read and noted that in each class meeting, we would discuss one of those books. And this was only one class in which I was enrolled! But I quickly adjusted and was able to hold my own in the class discussions and writing assignments.
My most immediate problem was that although I had been accepted into the university’s graduate school, I had not been accepted into a particular program of study. When my friends and fellow students would ask, “What program are you in?” I would respond, “I’m in the doctoral program.” To which they would say, “No, I mean what program of study are you in—administration, curriculum and instruction, or what?” I began to realize I had a big decision to make.
It was logical that I enroll in the administration and supervision program, since Fred Venditti was a prominent faculty member in the department and had been so encouraging to me. Plus, I was on leave from the Chattanooga public school system, where I had most recently served as dean of students. Returning to Chattanooga as a principal after I completed my degree would be a practical course of action.
On the other hand, deep down, I recognized I did not find the nuts and bolts of administration interesting, at least intellectually. This is odd considering that I later served as an administrator for most of my career in higher education. But I never applied for or actively pursued any of the administrative positions I subsequently held, and quite honestly, the administrative duties of my positions were never of deep interest to me. I did, however, value the fact that I was in a position of leadership, and with leadership opportunities came opportunities to make a positive difference.
The curriculum and instruction program was broader and more flexible than the program in administration, so my friends encouraged me to make an appointment to meet with the department chair, Jerry Bellon. Most of us, when we reflect on our life, can point to a few moments that radically shifted its trajectory. Such was my meeting with Jerry. Literally, my life and the lives of everyone in my family were changed forever.
Jerry explained that, yes, I would need to apply for admittance to the curriculum and instruction doctoral program. I would also need a faculty doctoral committee to guide my study, and asking someone to chair my committee was an extremely important decision. When he asked whom I thought I would like to chair my doctoral committee, I had no idea how to respond. I had taken a philosophy class from a professor who seemed to be encouraging, open-minded, and flexible, so I mentioned him as a possibility. Jerry responded by asking me to take a few days to think about it.
Throughout the years when Jerry and I would get together and reminisce about those early days together, we would laugh about how long it took me to figure out what Jerry was trying his best to convey: perhaps Jerry himself would be an excellent person to chair my doctoral studies! Jerry had to keep asking, “So, Bob, have you given any more thought about the chair of your committee?” And invariably, after I would mention a name, Jerry would tell me to give it some thought and then come back and see him. It was perhaps our fourth meeting during which the light bulb finally clicked on and I said, “I was wondering if you would be willing to chair my doctoral committee.” Not only did Jerry agree to chair my committee, but we also began to talk about a graduate assistantship. I have often thought about what my life experiences would have been had Jerry simply agreed to another chairperson for my studies.
To say that Jerry had presence doesn’t do him justice. He was a strong person, both intellectually and physically. When Jerry was in a room, he became the center of the conversation. People gravitated to the power of his personality. Balancing this commanding personality was a good heart. Jerry was adamantly opposed to discrimination of any kind. He was demanding and fair. He had high expectations but was always willing to help. His professional career was on an upward flight, and he was willing to take me—and others—along with him.
Jerry had first become interested in improving classroom instruction while he was a doctoral student at Berkeley and later in his work as a faculty member at Stanislaus State, in California. With his friend and colleague Dick Jones, he began to sharpen his thinking around a concept and practices that at the time were referred to as clinical supervision. Importantly, Jerry also had developed a reputation as an effective consultant to schools and districts that were interested in improving classroom instruction and, ultimately, student learning through the clinical supervision process.
While working on my degree, I focused on the clinical supervision process in addition to the typical course of study, and Jerry began to include me in his consulting work, primarily in the western suburbs of Chicago and in districts on Long Island. Throughout my years in Knoxville, and later at Middle Tennessee State University, I continued to do consulting work with Jerry. Additionally, Jerry, Dick Jones, Jim Huffman, and I authored Classroom Supervision and Instructional Improvement (Bellon, Eaker, Huffman, & Jones, 1976). Almost immediately, I began to understand the added benefit of connecting consulting and publishing. Consulting was the perfect vehicle for connecting research and practice. While my publishing efforts were important, especially in the world of higher education, the practical upshot was increasingly being asked to speak at conferences or consult with schools and districts. I learned that publishing and consulting were inextricably linked. More importantly, these formative years gave me confidence and insights into working with schools and districts of all sizes and laid the groundwork for my own consulting work that was to follow.
A Brief History of Classroom Supervision
To fully understand the emergence of a clinical approach to supervision in the 1960s, I find it helpful to place it in a historical context. The supervision of classroom instruction in U.S. public schools has continually evolved and continues to do so with an emphasis on student testing, teacher evaluation, and enhanced accountability. In 1976, in Classroom Supervision and Instructional Improvement, we wrote, “A look at the historical development of supervision indicates that supervision has sometimes been detrimental, sometimes helpful, sometimes useless, but usually maligned” (Bellon et al., 1976, p. 3). This observation still rings true.
Supervision of schools and classrooms in colonial America is often described as the period of administrative inspection, which was predominant until roughly 1900. During the early years of schooling in America, there was little concern for improving teachers. Supervisory practices were heavily top-down, and the remedy for poor instruction or classroom management was simply to replace the teacher—a cure currently regaining popularity.
During the first part of the 20th century, influenced by the work of Frederick Taylor and his promotion of scientific management as a means for improving organizational effectiveness and efficiency, supervision practices shifted to focus on research and measurement. The role of the supervisor during this period was to discover the best instructional and classroom management methods and procedures and then ensure that teachers utilized these approaches, often by making unannounced classroom observations.
Clearly, this kind of supervision was not a cooperative endeavor. That began to change in the 1930s, when human relations became emphasized. The human relations approach suggested that supervisors and teachers work together to help teachers realize their potential for improving instruction. The new democratic supervision diminished the authority of supervisors and their perceived threat to teachers. This wane was further influenced by the rapid expansion of schools after World War II, which overwhelmed administrators with administrative and maintenance issues and consequently left less time for instructional improvement.
The increased emphasis on management issues and proclivity to democratic thought led to a virtual absence of serious efforts to actively improve the classroom instruction of individual teachers. This hands-off approach has been referred to as a period of laissez-faire supervision (Bellon et al., 1976).
During the 1950s, new strategies such as microteaching, interaction analysis, and the use of performance objectives and goal setting were introduced and showed much promise as ways to help individual teachers improve their classroom performance. These initiatives set the stage for the Harvard-Newton Project at Harvard University, led by Morris Cogan (1973).
The Emergence of a Clinical Approach to Improving Classroom Instruction
The instructional improvement framework that Cogan and his associates developed is referred to as a clinical approach because of its emphasis on direct, objective, trained observation of classroom behaviors. In a clinical supervision approach, the supervisor (the observer) eschews personal bias and does not deal in generalities; rather, the observer focuses on specific behaviors of both students and teachers that occur during the lesson. The foundation of the clinical supervision process (which was refined by Jerry Bellon) is grounded in the following four basic assumptions that drive the entire process.
Assumption One
Teaching is a set of identifiable patterns of behavior. This assumption is based on the belief that together supervisors and teachers can identify specific, observable, recurring actions and techniques that form the core of a given teacher’s classroom instruction.
Assumption Two
When selected patterns of teaching behavior are changed, improvement of instruction can be achieved. Teaching is a set of complex, interconnected, and recurring verbal and physical actions. The underlying assumption is that improvement is more likely to occur when specific patterns of teaching are isolated for observation and study.
Assumption Three
The supervisor-teacher relationship must be built on mutual trust if change is to take place. Teaching is highly personal, and because it is so personal, meaningful change is more likely to take place in a climate of support and mutual trust. Building mutual support is the result of behavioral interactions, over time, between the supervisor and the teacher, rather than the supervisor merely verbalizing the need for trust. Trust is the result of people behaving in ways that are trustworthy. Primarily, this involves a consistency between what supervisors and teachers say and what they do.
Assumption Four
The improvement of instruction is the primary goal of supervision. The clinical supervision process is designed for the purpose of assisting teachers in the improvement of their instructional practices, not for the purpose of evaluating teachers. Any use of the clinical approach for evaluation is clearly secondary to the primary goal of improving classroom instruction.
The Clinical Supervision Process
The clinical supervision process described in Classroom Supervision and Instructional Improvement (Bellon et al., 1976) is built around four distinct but interconnected phases (figure 1.1, page 24). The process is also prescriptive in that within each phase are specific interactive steps that must be completed by the supervisor (observer) and the teacher.
Phase 1: Pre-Observation Conference
It is important for both the supervisor (or anyone who is conducting the observation) and the teacher to understand the context of the lesson that is to be observed and the role of the supervisor in the process. It is also important to recognize that this conference is an interactive dialogue between the supervisor and the teacher rather than a one-way conversation that is dominated by the supervisor. The role of the supervisor is to guide the conversation, ensuring that each of the following steps is performed.
1. Discuss the class setting: Teaching is contextual. Rarely is a lesson taught in isolation. This general introductory step provides an opportunity for the teacher to share with the supervisor how this lesson fits into a larger unit, including what has previously occurred and what is expected to follow. The teacher can also share any unique aspects of the lesson, the class, or specific students. Last, the supervisor and the teacher agree on the date and time that the observation will take place.
Source: Bellon et al., 1976.
FIGURE 1.1: Schematic representation of the supervisory process.
2. Clarify the objectives: What are the students expected to learn as a result of the lesson? During this conversation, the supervisor may need to help the teacher sharpen the objectives by making sure they are ultimately stated in learner outcomes—either content or process objectives.
3. Discuss learner characteristics and evaluation: This discussion extends the earlier conversation about the context of the lesson by focusing specifically on the readiness of the learners, as well as how the teacher will evaluate whether the students have attained the lesson objectives. In short, this discussion sharpens both the supervisor’s and the teacher’s understanding of the teacher’s pre- and post-assessment processes.
4. Identify strategies and materials to be used: In this step, the teacher shares with the supervisor the teaching strategies that he or she will use during the lesson, in essence describing what will occur throughout the lesson, as well as any materials or technology that will be used.
5. Establish the supervisory role: Once the supervisor has a clear understanding of both the teacher’s objectives and what will be occurring during the lesson, the supervisor and the teacher should agree on a focus of the observation that will be the most helpful to the teacher.
During my years of consulting, writing, and presenting on the clinical supervision process, one of the most frequently asked questions has been, “Are you getting an accurate view of a teacher’s classroom if the teacher knows ahead of time he or she is going to be observed? Wouldn’t it be more helpful for the observation to be unannounced?” I always thought this question revealed a certain underlying philosophy and assumption about the purpose of supervision, which I would challenge by asking, “Do you want to observe teachers at their very best or to catch them at their worst?”
If a formal observation is unannounced, the teacher has a ready-made excuse if things do not go well. The teacher can point out it was “just one of those days,” or say, “This is not the way my classes typically go.” On the other hand, if the teacher knows ahead of time he or she will be observed, there is little reason not to expect the teacher’s best performance. I must also note that very few administrators think it would be a good idea for school board members to drop in unannounced for the purpose of conducting a formal observation of their own work!
Certainly, principals and assistant principals need to be aware of what is occurring throughout the school and particularly in classrooms. But there is a difference between conducting a formal observation and simply dropping in on a classroom for a few minutes, or talking with students about their experiences, or meeting with a grade-level or content team. The Bellon approach to the clinical observation process emphasizes that trust is established by agreeing on a time for the observation and creating the conditions for seeing teachers at their best.
Phase 2: Classroom Observation
During the classroom observation phase, the supervisor observes and records the behavior of the teacher and students. The supervisor does not attempt to make general observational notes but rather focuses on the specific aspect of the lesson that was designated as being the most important during the pre-observation conference. Importantly, the supervisor only records what is occurring during the lessons, not his or her feelings or opinions about the observation. The description should be as objective as possible.
The supervisor may choose to focus on what the teacher or the students are saying or on what they are doing. In many observations, the supervisor will choose to focus on a combination of both verbal and physical behaviors as activities within the lesson change.
The supervisor’s notes might take the form of a script of what the teacher says or what students are saying. For example, if the teacher’s objective is for the students to gain a clear understanding of a particular concept, the supervisor might choose to record, as verbatim as possible, what the teacher says as he or she explains the concept. Alternatively, the supervisor and teacher might have agreed to record students’ questions after the concept is explained.
In some cases, the supervisor might record the physical movements of the teacher. Such diagrams can be particularly insightful in laboratory classes or physical education classes. Perhaps the focus might be diagramming where students are during an activity.
Regardless of the focus of the observation, the supervisor must observe two parameters. One, he or she must become skilled at recording classroom behaviors, and two, value judgments must not be part of the record.
Phase 3: Post-Observation Conference
The post-observation conference should be conducted as soon as possible after the lesson. During the classroom observation phase, the primary skill required of the supervisor is accurate recording of what the teachers or students are saying and doing, or a combination of both. In the post-observation conference, the primary skill required of the supervisor is interpersonal. An element of trust is essential if the post-observation conference and, by extension, the clinical process are to be productive. This trust must have been developed over time, before the clinical process even began. It cannot be built on the spot during the post-observation conference.
In this conference, the supervisor and the teacher sit side by side and examine the data the supervisor recorded (typically on a long legal pad). With the data in front of them, the supervisor and the teacher proceed through five distinct steps.
1. Reconstruct what took place: The supervisor reviews the data with the teacher regarding what took place during the lesson. The teacher might ask questions, or the supervisor might ask for the teacher’s view of what the data indicate. The important point is that the supervisor and teacher agree that the data portray an accurate representation of what occurred during the lesson.
2. Identify patterns of behavior from the recorded data: Patterns are defined as recurring behavior. A pattern may be verbal or physical. A pattern may be a teacher pattern or a student pattern. Often a pattern is a combination of behaviors. The point is, in this part of the post-observation conference, the supervisor is leading the teacher in the identification of actions that recurred during the lesson.
Ideally, the teacher will identify the most obvious patterns first. However, the supervisor may also point out a pattern that the teacher has failed to identify. This is a joint dialogue in which two professionals are doing their best to identify recurring patterns of behavior during the lesson.
3. Restate the content and process objectives for the lesson from the pre-observation conference: At this point, the supervisor quickly restates the objectives the teacher had for the lesson. The supervisor is setting the stage for a discussion of each pattern that occurred in relation to the teacher’s objectives, rather than to any preconceived notion the supervisor has about good teaching.
4. Compare the patterns that have been identified with the stated objectives: Together, the supervisor and the teacher assess the effects of each identified pattern on the teacher’s objectives for the lesson. The patterns either supported the attainment of or were detrimental to the lesson objectives. In many cases, it will be determined that some had no effect. It is important to emphasize that this discussion is a joint discussion. Ideally, the teacher will readily state his or her view regarding pattern effectiveness, but often the supervisor needs to take a more active role, pointing out effects that perhaps the teacher has not seen. Likely, there will be a good deal of anxiety during the first observations, but after being participants in the clinical process a few times, teachers become much more comfortable and trusting, active partners—providing, of course, the supervisor performs the role well.
5. Use the analysis for future teaching: Once the supervisor and the teacher have agreed on patterns that supported the attainment of the teacher’s objectives, the continued use of those patterns should be recommended and supported. There should also be agreement regarding detrimental patterns that need to be changed or modified.
For example, the supervisor might ask, “If you taught this or a similar lesson again, what would you do differently?” Such questions hopefully will cause the teacher to reflect not only on teaching behavior but also on how it might be improved. And, of course, the supervisor might offer suggestions on how to improve patterns.
At its core, the post-observation conference creates a mirror in which the teacher, along with the supervisor, reflects on the effectiveness of each pattern of teacher behavior in light of the stated objectives for the lesson and serves the purpose of enhancing purposeful reflection regarding teaching effectiveness, not only with individual teachers, but over time also with the entire teaching staff.
Phase 4: Evaluation of Teaching
In the early 1970s, we discouraged linking teacher evaluation and the clinical supervision process. Occasionally, a district administrator would ask, “Why not use the notes from the clinical classroom observation as a major aspect of the evaluation of teachers?” Our response was that we believed it was very difficult to develop and maintain a high level of trust between the supervisor and teachers if evaluation became part of the process.
The latter part of the 1970s witnessed an increased focus on accountability and evaluation across the United States. Increasingly, districts were including classroom observations as part of their teacher evaluation programs. Districts consulting with Jerry Bellon and his associates (including me) asked how they could connect what they were doing within the clinical supervision process with their emerging teacher evaluation programs. So we began to assist them and offered the following suggestions:
a. The observational data should only be used in the part of the evaluation process that deals with classroom instruction.
b. The evaluation program should be based on the assumption that the major purpose of evaluation is to gather information for decision making that will improve the instructional program.
c. All aspects of the evaluation program should be philosophically and procedurally in harmony with the clinical supervision approach.
d. Agreement should be reached about which important behaviors will be evaluated.
e. Evaluation forms should be congruent with gathering objective data that can be used for decision making. Rating sheets that are heavily laden with value statements that require subjective judgments should be avoided.
f. And, given the fact that each school district is different, each district should engage in an inclusive process to develop its own unique evaluation program. (Bellon, Eaker, Huffman, & Jones, 1976, pp. 24–25)
I find it amazing that the clinical supervision process that I experienced in the late 1960s is so prominent in the 21st century. While not referred to as clinical supervision, classroom observation has become a feature of virtually every state evaluation system. Palimpsest indeed!
A Summing Up
Clearly, the decade of the 1970s was a seminal period in my life. In retrospect, this was the time that I seriously and purposefully began to delve into issues related to both instructional improvement and, toward the end of the decade, school improvement.
The consulting work with Jerry Bellon gave me the confidence to work in schools and school districts of all shapes and sizes. I increased my understanding not only of instructional improvement but also of the importance of appreciating each school and school district’s unique history and culture. I also acquired valuable experience handling the political issues that often accompany any attempts at change.
I was fortunate to work in all types of schools. Most were upper-middle-class suburban schools, but because I worked in so many different schools in a wide variety of districts, I was able to gain insights into rural schools, inner-city schools, wealthy schools, and poor schools, as well as schools of all sizes.
This period was also important in that I made new and enduring friendships, both personal and professional. My relationship with Jerry evolved from being his graduate assistant to being close friends with both him and his family. Also during this period, my friendship with Rick DuFour grew and deepened. We realized we viewed the world through the same lens, including things beyond educational issues. We found humor in many of the same things. Not all who knew Rick had the opportunity to witness his sharp sense of humor. Boy, did they miss out! He was one of the wittiest people I ever met. Simply put, for four decades, we had great fun together.
Working in schools also gave me the opportunity to make new friends, especially in the districts of suburban Chicago and Long Island, such as Hinsdale, Illinois, and West Islip, New York. I often traveled with Jim Huffman, who also was a graduate assistant of Jerry’s and after receiving his doctorate joined me on the faculty at Middle Tennessee State University. In the evenings, we would have dinner with friends, such as Roger Miller from Hinsdale and, of course, Rick.
My experiences in these schools sharpened my belief in the critically important role leadership plays in regard to district, school, team, and classroom effectiveness, particularly the quality of superintendent and principal leadership. I realized quickly that the defining difference between success or lack thereof was leadership. Programs, regardless of how well they may be conceived or supported by research, will have limited impact in districts and schools in the absence of strong leadership. It is ironic that teacher empowerment, ownership, and improvement depend on strong top-down leadership.
I also gained a greater appreciation of the role that attitudes play in instructional improvement. In many ways, attitudes are the lubrication that makes things work—or not. In Kid by Kid, Skill by Skill (Eaker & Keating, 2015), Janel Keating and I write of the difference between have-to educators and get-to educators. I was amazed at the differences between schools and within schools regarding this basic attitude. Some educators seemed to have an attitude of “I have to come to work and do these things I am told to do,” while others expressed excitement or gratitude that “I get to work with my colleagues and these kids.” What a difference!
A get-to teacher attitude is exemplified by Eleanor Roosevelt. After her husband, Franklin Roosevelt, was elected governor of New York in the election of 1928, Mrs. Roosevelt refused to give up the job that meant the most to her. She was teaching American history and 19th century literature three days a week at the Todhunter School for girls in Manhattan. She remarked, “I teach because I love it. I cannot give it up” (Ward & Burns, 2014, pp. 268–269).
Another example: For years one of my dearest friends was Richard Marius. Although Richard passed away in 1999, I often think of him and his impact on me—and countless others. For almost two decades, Richard was director of expository writing at Harvard University. Beyond directing expository writing, Richard frequently taught a course in the Harvard Graduate School of Arts and Sciences on William Faulkner’s novels, from Soldiers’ Pay to Go Down, Moses. Although the university catalog course description noted enrollment was limited to fifteen students, in the fall of 1996 his final grade sheet listed grades for seventy-one students (Anderson, 2006)!
Richard did not feel he had to teach those additional students. Instead, he felt grateful that he got to share his knowledge of and enthusiasm for Faulkner’s life and novels with students. Later in my career, as a university dean, I witnessed get-to attitudes like Richard’s time and again. Unfortunately, I also occasionally encountered faculty members who would not allow any additional students in their courses beyond the published class size limits, regardless of the circumstances.
What a difference attitude makes! What would lead us to believe that students will have a better attitude than their teachers or that teachers’ attitudes will be more positive and enthusiastic than the attitude of their principal? Doesn’t the attitude of the superintendent have an effect on an entire school district—especially on principals, teachers, and support staff? The answer: absolutely!
During this period of utilizing the clinical supervision process as a vehicle for improving instruction, both Jim Huffman and I (and, I am sure, others) began to realize the process had some severe limitations. While the process offered educators helpful skills at observing and recording classroom interactions, along with a framework for partnering with teachers to reflect on their instructional effectiveness, the process did not place a heavy emphasis on providing teachers specific research-based approaches for improving their classroom effectiveness.
We saw that at the end of post-observation conferences, teachers would often agree that some changes in their classroom instruction would enhance their effectiveness and asked for recommendations on what to change, but the supervisors had only limited knowledge of research-based effective instructional practices. Interestingly, in many cases, the teachers were much more knowledgeable regarding effective teaching strategies than those conducting the observation!
Fortunately, the latter part of the 1970s witnessed an increased interest within both the U.S. Department of Education and the research community in pursuing research around teaching effectiveness. And fortunately for me, like so many times in my life, I serendipitously met a person who would make a significant impact on my professional career and greatly enhance my knowledge of and thinking about instructional improvement—a meeting I’ll describe in the next chapter. But it’s safe to say that without my prior decades of experience with classroom observation through the clinical supervision process and the friendship and mentorship of Jerry Bellon, this new research wouldn’t have had nearly the impact on me that it ultimately did.
