There is a distinct difference between having a belief and having a value. Values, in my opinion, are Platonic Forms from which a more concrete idea that we believe in might take root in a practical world. A value has a deep and meaningful impact behind the scenes, while a belief is something we may act on based on this. As an educator and as a school leader, I have a value of integrity. I believe that in so doing I have to hold myself accountable to the same honesty, transparency, and trust I expect from my students and the members of my teams. I believe that I have to lead by example and hold myself accountable to critiques. Contrary to what you might think, it is remarkably uncomplicated to do this. It is, however, uncomfortable and humbling when you’ve made a mistake.
Once, in the course of managing some rambunctious behavior among some students, I was interrogating a student about their role in a minor mishap. The student had a fabulous and fluent excuse: “It wasn’t me, it was them.” When pressed with some follow-up questions, the clarity of that language was shattered to an “um ah em ah um.” I had the kid dead to rights, and I echoed the stumbling, sending them packing to the office to find their consequences as soon as someone was available to render sentencing.
I forgot about the moment and went about my day. Middle school mishaps are ubiquitous, and I rarely let such workaday interactions as a student trying to absolve themselves get so serious as to let them turn the course of my day. As I was making hallway rounds about an hour later, one of the students involved told me that the child I was speaking to prior was very upset. I asked why; the consequence couldn’t have been so dire. I found out that the child had a stutter. Unintentionally, I had mocked them for something that they had worked for many years in elementary school to overcome. Suddenly, I realized it was not a grasping for a fiction that I had witnessed; it was duress expressing itself in a real stutter. I checked it out. The stutter was historical and well under control, but it was real.
Now, I had gone from bringing consequences to being a bully. I checked the schedule and saw that it was recess, found the student, pulled them aside, and said, “I owe you an apology.” I took account for myself, put myself at the mercy of the student’s forgiveness, and left with a handshake and an understanding. Had I found out about a student unintentionally bullying, I’d have brokered a mediated discussion where an understanding was found and left forgiveness to the bullied without an expectation—only an opportunity. I held myself to that standard.
But I wasn’t done yet. As a trusted adult and a school leader, I have a more discerning person over to whom I’d have to deliver a mea culpa. I had to call home, and I had to do so immediately. I caught Mom at work on her cell phone. I started with, “Everything is okay, nobody is in danger or trouble,” though I very well may have been. Parents always want to know upfront that there is no physical harm when you cold call. I told the story, soup to nuts, just as I laid it out above. I told her that I felt awful and that I didn’t go into education to make kids feel bad about themselves; quite the contrary. In my position, I should be more cautious in how I proceed to call kids out, even given my friendly and playful interactions in general.
Her response was, “Things happen,” only she didn’t say “things.” She thanked me for all the effort that I went through to make things right and to hold myself accountable. I told her integrity is something I value, and I felt I had tarnished mine. To my great relief, she said she felt it was the opposite…people are fallible. She had been speaking with the student at home about the idea that nobody is perfect and that from time to time we all mess up. How we take accountability, she added, is what matters. We had a productive conversation about another topic that needed addressing that we might not have otherwise had to, and I was able to provide support in a way that wasn’t yet on my radar. She told me that she was going to continue the conversation with her child and use me as an example of what to do when you make a mistake. She assured me that this was far more valuable than having done it right in the first place, from her perspective. While I was still embarrassed, we left on a strong note, more partners than strangers.
Other adults might have believed that their value of personal integrity put them above apologizing to a student, or that to preserve the appearance of that integrity, it would be best to hope the story never came back to them from a parent having resolved the situation directly with the child. Another person might have felt that integrity was owning up to the parent but not discussing it with the child at all. Beliefs drive actions and can be changed. In situations where those beliefs from the value of integrity played out, I know for certain that there would have been more to learn and far less partnership in the end. I value my values deeply and think about what they look like in practice. The simple solution was the approach I took; it was harder, required humility and self-reflection, and required dedication to my value over my reputation, but it was not complicated. Sometimes the right thing is the hard thing, and the hard thing is simple. Sometimes it isn’t. But it always involves real accountability to know if we really value that value or if it just looks nice on a poster.
Mike Schmoker suggests that values are visible in what you require teachers to teach. He has a very concrete approach to them. Values, Schmoker argues, create equity and increase achievement. He argues that in our curriculum, students have to have guaranteed access to the same essential knowledge and literacy demands across classrooms, for example. If the demands aren’t universal, the value is a pleasant fiction. As much as I love curriculum, I would dig deeper. Schools are the places where, for most of the year, students spend most of the month, most of the week, and most of the day. They have to be places that mean something more than the three R’s. They have to be places where they can see the respectful and respectable. Schools are the microcosm we train kids in so that they can embrace everything we need them to be and actualize out there in the harsh real world. If we do it right, maybe that real world won’t be so harsh.
Marzano and Waters discuss non-negotiable commitments that can’t be waived. Our values transcend inspiration to obligation. They argue that our obligation is to “the right work.” Again, this is framed on curriculum, but before the curriculum can happen, people have to be trustworthy, the conversations need to be real, and we have to embody the expectations that not only create an environment of learning but a future of civility, and dare I say, humanity. We can have “defined autonomy” around ensuring that the multiplication tables are well known and weighing ourselves on the scales of our own expectations.
Richard DuFour outlines the idea that our values are collective promises. When we value something, we are promising to act on it, for it, or in it. When we value excellence in learning, that means we demand excellence in teaching, in preparation, in knowledge, in assessment, in remediation, and in enrichment. When we value safety, that means that we take every precaution, explore every conceivable danger, weigh every action, and look at every shadow with critical lenses to see what could go wrong. From a position of leadership, values of character come from living the value to its fullest. When we as leaders or as teachers embrace the value, we can collaborate on it, make it communal, and make its impact felt.
It is easy to get caught up in the laminated poster version of these values, or for their true meaning to become lost in a belief that limits their potential and loses their Platonic Form. As leaders, we have to be humble and faithful servants to the values we want our schools and communities to embody. We should do so deliberately, actively, thoughtfully, with humility, humanity, and personal forgiveness and accountability when we fall short. My mantra is “always be committed to new mistakes,” learn from the ones you’ve made and do your best to make up for them. After all, “things happen”…only it’s not always “things.”