Fans, Spectators and Champions

Principal Kafele’s video left me nearly as energized as the late Rita Pierson’s, “Every Child Deserves a Champion” (always) does. Kafele’s “Fan” metaphor illustrates the ethos to which the best leaders subscribe. As an educator–a “Champion”–for our students–we must also be students’ “Fans,” so that they graduate and become the next Champions. The greatest leaders are great because instead of idling, they seized reins that needed seizing. The best leaders in education are not just seen but known, far and wide: known through not fear, but their presence. They are not just “present” in schools and classrooms they supervise; they are present at the science fairs, the bake sales, the PLC’s. Instead of “speculating” about what stakeholders “need,” great school leaders–as “Fans” who truly want your best and you at your best–are asking teachers, parents and students questions, constantly. Great leaders, as “Champions,” are forging personal relationships, connections and rapport long before releasing some status report to a “Board.”

My district’s new Superintendent gave me hope when she announced her plan to “Listen and Learn” during the first quarter of her tenure–spending months traveling across the district, visiting classrooms, offices and round tables–and then, inspired again when she published a candid report of her findings on the district’s website. My Superintendent’s homecoming was tactful, considering she came from out of state–and likely knew (by doing her homework) that my district is known for transparency issues among employees and the public. Given her “Listen/Learn” strategy and follow through so far, it seems my Superintendent may well be a “Fan,” and I really hope she is. My district needs one bad–especially a Fan who wears her shoes. I’m excited to see which avenue (s) she pursues. From what I hear, my Superintendent asks teachers for feedback on campus visits because she strives to learn intentionally by listening attentively. And because learning and teaching is the purpose of education and is what all “True Fans” do. Now that she’s published her “Listen and Learn” report, I’m hoping my Superintendent will nail down the “Logistics” to bring her vision to fruition. 

I like to think of myself as a “Fan” in others’ classrooms–but I haven’t visited anyone’s classroom in over a year. Should I hold a leadership position one day, I want above all else to never forget what it is to be an “educator.” I think some leaders permit themselves too much comfort in ignorance, and this is why some of their mandates fail to make (logistical) sense and address targets. Some slip into their “downtown” routines and visit schools less and less then,”never,” gradually losing all the pragmatics and schematics they knew as classroom teachers. I was lucky to know some exceptional “Fans” as a high school student–a superintendent who roamed hallways for fun and a principal who directed the school plays and taught Theater every fall–who proved that anyone working in a school, for a school, is an educator. The most pedestrian of those educators perceive their role as “Spectators,” with aim for wheeling hapless cogs to “passing” for passing’s sake. The best educators are “Fans” because they know “passing” is but an iceberg tip. 

 A mahogany desk does not preclude a superintendent from working with students or leading a teacher workshop. Amid a shortage of teachers, leaders whom I most respect–the ones I could follow to Earth’s end–are those who would show you how to walk the talk. To this, others might balk: I’m talking of the breed who lives to learn to do better. The gems who, in this process, inspire others.That’s my read on “True Fan” status. I’m waiting for the day a district coach asks to come in and teach my kids pilot lessons before revising district curriculum guides–let alone a honcho. The ideal leader of teachers would be a master teacher. A leader who would go into a classroom cold as a guest to teach me how it’s done: if the lessons fall flat, back to the drawing board. This leader wouldn’t dictate a directive or pen a proposal sans firsthand awareness of the implications, up and down the line, in doing so. This leader would not demand any teacher do in the classroom what the leader could not do thrice over. Shouldn’t leaders of teachers be masters of teaching? If teachers are leaders who govern the education of students, how are those charged with leading those teachers at times unequipped to teach anything, much less to lead teaching of teachers? Imagine the leader who never sat in a windowless room with a class of 30 children, remained sitting while insisting they too remain seated–for 8 hours–in that windowless room, while also imploring said 30 to “sit and listen,” and repeated this process 180 days? And they want to cut my pacing guide; they want me to justify the academic merits of films I showed Friday before winter break? To explain how I plan to convince a class of 28 teenagers that Ben Franklin’s axioms are as “fun” as Tik-Tok? To ascertain the idiosyncrasies and nuances inherent to the ways in which 25 individuals learned how to learn over their past 16 years, empirically, to know how “best” I might teach 20 different skills in 25 different ways for a test that’s four months away? Tell a junior he has to take his end-of-course-test right after his girlfriend breaks up with him?

If we are to teach to prepare students for life, why do we lie? Is a boss going to differentiate the break schedule to accommodate one over 50+ others? But a boss may make a concession if offered the proper rhetorical pitch–but those only made to take “tests” might not know how to sell it because down the line, some leader decided the debate unit was a waste of instructional time. Because it’s not “on the test” and they didn’t bother to visit AP Lang. class. But True Fans know that what kids need to know isn’t often measured on tests, and make sure they learn what matters regardless. When we forget that the goal of learning is to refine not only “skills” but to gain a sense of self by way of shared community, we lose the opportunity to teach the most important lesson: meaningful connection. When we forget that kids are kids and not adults, and forget that the adults who teach don’t need to be lectured by the ones who’ve never lectured, we all lose an education. Social transactions are king–but rather than showing students as much, some educators fail to show up. There’s your “spectators.” There’s no more room for “behind the scenes” roles in education today if we hope–dare–to change the game for good.