Join us, Bill and Diane, to consider the possibilities of professional conversations in real time in schools with a story from Diane Zimmerman’s years as a principal. We dedicate this story to teachers and staffs everywhere who are brave enough to confront truths. We invite others to commit to do the same. Here is Diane’s story, which is fractal of this book in that the narrative contains so much more than first meets the eye. Indeed, you may want to reread this section after you have read the book.
In this suburban school district, teachers have been complaining about chronic bullying; the counselor suggested that the staff explore what teachers observe in the moment of bullying. More specifically, she wanted them to identify what they could control—what behavioral triggers they noted and how they responded. The topic of bullying had cycled on and off staff meeting agendas, with no real action taken, so Diane decided to set aside an hour for the staff to explore this bullying problem in more depth and organized the time around the counselor’s unanswered query.
As the teachers talked, not surprisingly they exhibited a large repertoire of responses. Some teachers had finely tuned observation systems and intervened at the first instance of “mean” behavior. Others stayed out of student interactions until they could ignore them no longer. As the teachers talked, it became evident that the teachers who intervened early and had a repertoire of interventions were the most effective at reducing bullying behaviors.
One teacher, clearly an outlier, had the most layered set of responses, all designed to encourage the students to self-monitor. First, she constantly monitored voice tone, and if she heard sarcasm or put-downs, she’d stop what she was doing and look toward the offending students. If this was not enough, she prompted the students with a simple inquiry, “What is going on here?” This signaled that the teacher was watching and often stopped the behavior. If that didn’t work, the next step was to move closer and remind the students, “Remember, treat others as you wish to be treated. Please focus on (the task).” Or finally, the teacher would call attention to the students at the center of the altercation with a more specific inquiry: “Briana and Jackson, do I need to talk with you?” What was unstated but clear to the students was an embedded command: Stop the behavior, or we’ll be in conversation about it.
Diane reflects, “I was amazed that some teachers could dip into consciousness to find such nuanced responses, which may have been unconscious until they became spoken. What was most amazing to observe was how teachers who had limited repertoire engaged in inquiry to learn more about successful moves.” Collectively, teachers decided that they could do much more to stop bullying in the school. They decided to follow up at the next staff meeting with a reflection-on-action conversation to check in to hear how teachers were changing practices. And the principal now had some new ways to expand conversations with teachers who made excessive referrals to the office.
The big aha moment for many was that by looking for antecedent behaviors and intervening early, they could change the culture of the entire school. Furthermore, it became clear that when conversations raise consciousness about a gap in knowledge, the professionals continue to puzzle and observe behaviors and make changes long after the initial conversation.
This is just one small example that demonstrates if we just listen, we can learn so much more from our teachers. We owe it to our profession to open the doors to create a culture of open access in which we build knowledge, coherence, and legacies, which are then passed on to a new generation of teachers.