Mediapolis had a revolving door at the elementary principal position. It was a big job serving over 600 kids in two buildings ten miles apart. There were lots of duties that came along with the job. The principal had told me all year long he was going to leave and he did. I wasn’t surprised and he was openly hostile towards the superintendent. He had very rigid ideas about how things should be done and he undermined the administration in not so subtle ways.
In my May 7, 1990 journal entry I reflect on my decision to leave teaching and become an administrator. I wrote that I really missed teaching but believed I had done the right thing. I also wrote that I had applied for a Director of Instruction position in Mt. Pleasant and I knew the elementary principal position at Mediapolis was going to be open. The superintendent had told me I could have that position if I wanted it.
I was interested in the job but was unsure about it because I had just completed the first year of the Curriculum Coordinator position and had a lot of things I thought needed to be done. The superintendent came to me again and said he just wanted to give me the job and not have to go through advertising and interviews.
It is always difficult in a situation like this. Do I hold out for the Mt. Pleasant job, take the elementary principal position, or just stay where I am?
On May 10th I wrote: “I’m really troubled about a decision have to make. I have to decide by Monday if I want to take the elementary principal position in Mediapolis. At this time I just don’t know what to do…sometimes I think I would be crazy not to take it. A lot of administrators would like to be principal of a 600 student building (it was really two buildings). That is larger than any in Mt. Pleasant. Deep in my heart I don’t want to leave Mt. Pleasant. I don’t know why or what is holding me there. I’ve always secretly wondered if I ever would. If I take the principal position I definitely would have to move to the area in a year or so. Maybe that would be best…”
The more I thought about the principal job the more interested I was. On May 15th I told the superintendent I would accept the position and he said he would make the recommendation to the board. They thought the position should be opened and then I could apply for it like everyone else. He was mad and I little disappointed. Actually, I was offended! The board had, in a vote of 2-3, said to avoid public criticism it would be best to open the job up and then they told the superintendent to encourage me to apply.
About the same time the principal was telling staff and the public he had been forced out. I knew that wasn’t true and besides when I first came into the district that principal had told me he planned to leave in a year. Nevertheless, criticism was widespread.
The board routinely went against the superintendent’s recommendations and I could see hostility building. I wasn’t comfortable with some of the things they did and their ethics.
I didn’t even get an interview for the Mt. Pleasant position. I probably shouldn’t even have applied but in the back of my mind I had hoped I could return to Mt. Pleasant.
Ultimately, I didn’t apply for the Mediapolis principal position (not this year anyway). I decided it was best to stick where I was at least one more year. I wanted to finish up my dissertation and thought it would be easier in that position than as a principal.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
90s04 Storytelling Takes Off
Stepping away from the classroom meant I stepped away from relationships and contact with kids. I have always been energized by the contact. I knew one way to continue it, in a reduced way, was to continue the storytelling in classrooms.
Wanting to do that and doing that are two different things. Teachers are protective of their classrooms and their instructional time and don’t want just anyone coming in. Somehow I had to build some credibility with them without forcing myself on them.
I don’t know for sure where I told my first story, in WACO or Mediapolis classrooms? I brief reference in my journal makes me think it might have been “Taily-po” in Linda Wilkerson’s classroom some time that fall. My storytelling slowly spread at WACO first and then at Mediapolis. I had a rule of never asking if I could tell stories in a classroom and always waiting for an invitation. That may have slowed me down but I wanted to make sure the teachers wanted me in their classrooms.
In the fall of 1990 I started keeping a log of each time I told stories in a classroom and what stories I used. By the end of September I had told stories in eleven different classrooms. Unfortunately, I didn’t always put the date in the log but by November 7, I had added an additional 26 for a total of 37 times. My reputation was growing! By Christmas break I was up to 62 storytelling sessions in classrooms. I was finding it difficult to keep up with all of the sessions let alone write them all down.
By the end of the school year I had told stories 123 times in classrooms. There are only 180 school days in a school year so I was obviously busy! I had been forced to start telling people no because I had so much other work to do. One good side effect was that I got to know the teachers and students and that paid off in the future. I’ll get to that later.
The pace tapered off considerably the second year partly because I was running out of stories and I was so busy with my job. Storytelling outside the district, in other schools and at other events picked up however. The word was out and I had to turn down many requests because I just didn’t have time.
I should have kept logging where, when and what stories I told but didn’t. It is a disadvantage when you are invited back to a place for the third or fourth time and you can’t remember the stories you told when you were there before. The kids didn’t usually seem to care if I told the same story more than once but I still tried not to do it.
The storytelling continues to this day and hopefully continues well into retirement. There is a magic to it and I love to see the story unfold in the eyes of the listeners. I worked at crafting the story to allow that magic to happen. I will write more about it another time.
Wanting to do that and doing that are two different things. Teachers are protective of their classrooms and their instructional time and don’t want just anyone coming in. Somehow I had to build some credibility with them without forcing myself on them.
I don’t know for sure where I told my first story, in WACO or Mediapolis classrooms? I brief reference in my journal makes me think it might have been “Taily-po” in Linda Wilkerson’s classroom some time that fall. My storytelling slowly spread at WACO first and then at Mediapolis. I had a rule of never asking if I could tell stories in a classroom and always waiting for an invitation. That may have slowed me down but I wanted to make sure the teachers wanted me in their classrooms.
In the fall of 1990 I started keeping a log of each time I told stories in a classroom and what stories I used. By the end of September I had told stories in eleven different classrooms. Unfortunately, I didn’t always put the date in the log but by November 7, I had added an additional 26 for a total of 37 times. My reputation was growing! By Christmas break I was up to 62 storytelling sessions in classrooms. I was finding it difficult to keep up with all of the sessions let alone write them all down.
By the end of the school year I had told stories 123 times in classrooms. There are only 180 school days in a school year so I was obviously busy! I had been forced to start telling people no because I had so much other work to do. One good side effect was that I got to know the teachers and students and that paid off in the future. I’ll get to that later.
The pace tapered off considerably the second year partly because I was running out of stories and I was so busy with my job. Storytelling outside the district, in other schools and at other events picked up however. The word was out and I had to turn down many requests because I just didn’t have time.
I should have kept logging where, when and what stories I told but didn’t. It is a disadvantage when you are invited back to a place for the third or fourth time and you can’t remember the stories you told when you were there before. The kids didn’t usually seem to care if I told the same story more than once but I still tried not to do it.
The storytelling continues to this day and hopefully continues well into retirement. There is a magic to it and I love to see the story unfold in the eyes of the listeners. I worked at crafting the story to allow that magic to happen. I will write more about it another time.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
90s03 German Lutherans
My parents went to church regularly most of their lives. As I have said before, Mom is from a Quaker background and Dad was from a Mennonite family. About the only thing that could keep Dad from church was a trip out to Merrimac arrowhead hunting.
As I have also said before, those trips were like a guided tour of that area of the county. One Sunday morning as we drove, well, I should say “wandered “up towards Walnut Creek to some of Dad’s choice spots we went a slightly different way. That route took us by the German Lutheran Church. It was an ancient structure along the road. Dad had talked many times about the Lutherans and how some of them were related to us.
He talked, too, about how many of the immigrants never learned English. The debate today about immigrents learning English has really been going on for generations. He remembered some of the old timers and could still tell stories about many of them.
I have been in that church at least twice in my life. Once when I was a young kid and then again, years later when Dad wanted to stop and go in. It was an old pioneer wooden structure that looked to be right out of an old photo album. The old structures have a sound of their own, as if all of the songs, all of the lives, all of the stories are still reverberating there.
So, on that Sunday morning, when we had skipped church, there just happened to be a service going on in that church. We didn’t go in. We were dressed in our hunting attire and it was hardly appropriate for church.
It was a warm and sunny April morning so the car windows were down. Dad, never one to drive fast, was driving slower than ever as if we were sneaking up on someone. As we got near the church we could clearly hear the singing in the old church. Dad stopped the car in the middle of the road.
“I love to tell the story”
The sound reverberated off the floor and walls of the old church and out the open windows. We just sat there in the middle of the road listening. I was a little nervous and looked back behind us to make sure someone wasn’t coming up on us. Dad just looked over at the church and listened.
“‘twill be my theme in glory,”
At the heart of any religion are the stories they tell and my father grew up knowing the power of stories. He delighted in hearing, as well as telling, the stories of the community and it’s people.
“to tell the old, old story”
Dad wasn’t someone who talked about his faith a lot. Both of my parents were that way. You knew about their faith by their actions and the stories they told. They were stories of honesty, hard work and the goodness of others. To this day I am amazed at my parent’s ability to not only not judge others but to expect the best of everyone.
“of Jesus and his love.”
After the song was over we drove off towards our destination and he started telling a story about an old German Lutheran woman who had been kind to him.
As I have also said before, those trips were like a guided tour of that area of the county. One Sunday morning as we drove, well, I should say “wandered “up towards Walnut Creek to some of Dad’s choice spots we went a slightly different way. That route took us by the German Lutheran Church. It was an ancient structure along the road. Dad had talked many times about the Lutherans and how some of them were related to us.
He talked, too, about how many of the immigrants never learned English. The debate today about immigrents learning English has really been going on for generations. He remembered some of the old timers and could still tell stories about many of them.
I have been in that church at least twice in my life. Once when I was a young kid and then again, years later when Dad wanted to stop and go in. It was an old pioneer wooden structure that looked to be right out of an old photo album. The old structures have a sound of their own, as if all of the songs, all of the lives, all of the stories are still reverberating there.
So, on that Sunday morning, when we had skipped church, there just happened to be a service going on in that church. We didn’t go in. We were dressed in our hunting attire and it was hardly appropriate for church.
It was a warm and sunny April morning so the car windows were down. Dad, never one to drive fast, was driving slower than ever as if we were sneaking up on someone. As we got near the church we could clearly hear the singing in the old church. Dad stopped the car in the middle of the road.
“I love to tell the story”
The sound reverberated off the floor and walls of the old church and out the open windows. We just sat there in the middle of the road listening. I was a little nervous and looked back behind us to make sure someone wasn’t coming up on us. Dad just looked over at the church and listened.
“‘twill be my theme in glory,”
At the heart of any religion are the stories they tell and my father grew up knowing the power of stories. He delighted in hearing, as well as telling, the stories of the community and it’s people.
“to tell the old, old story”
Dad wasn’t someone who talked about his faith a lot. Both of my parents were that way. You knew about their faith by their actions and the stories they told. They were stories of honesty, hard work and the goodness of others. To this day I am amazed at my parent’s ability to not only not judge others but to expect the best of everyone.
“of Jesus and his love.”
After the song was over we drove off towards our destination and he started telling a story about an old German Lutheran woman who had been kind to him.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
90s02 Whole Language
Whole language has always been a controversial topic in education. It is a simple philosophical way of thinking about teaching. Some believe that whole language means you don’t teach skills. Nothing could be further from the truth. You teach all of the skills you would in a traditional approach. They are just taught in the context of the whole text. So many published programs were so skill centered that kids never got around to reading a whole text. It was kind of like taking golf lessons but never getting to play golf. People who would do that soon lose interest in the game. That is what was happening with reading.
Teachers were so misinformed about the concept of whole language and the criticism that it never taught any skills, that many rejected the whole language idea without even understanding it. The truth was that it was strongly, and still is, supported by research. Book publishers didn’t like it because kids were reading library books and schools weren’t buying their expensive programs. They went to great lengths to discredit it and many teachers were unwittingly drawn into their deceit.
I started doing inservices and presentations about what I had done in my classroom. Teachers seemed very intrigued. Many were disenchanted with the basal program they were using and begged me to teach a class on the topic.
After I heard that over and over I decided to do just that. I wrote a course proposal that was approved by the AEA and a couple of the cooperating colleges. I think I taught it once on my own and then taught it with Jean Holtgrewe at the elementary building in Crawfordsville. We were overwhelmed at the response. Over twenty-five people signed up. Most of the teachers were from the Mediapolis or WACO districts.
We spent the whole class talking about the whole language philosophy, demonstrating lessons they could do in their classrooms and talking about improving instruction in general.
One of the most enjoyable parts was that each participant shared a favorite book and a possible activity class members might use or adapt to suit the needs of their students. Each of the weekly classes began with two or three of them sharing their story and activity. I loved to hear about the books and the creative ideas the teachers had about how to utilize them in instruction.
That course met on Monday evenings from late January through May. I am convinced that I learned more than those taking the class. Something about teaching generates enthusiasm and inquiry in me. It’s like charging a battery. Teaching energized me!
At some point in the class I decided to use the Helen Keller story about how she finally made the connection between the hand sign for water and the actual water. It’s that ah ha moment that education is all about. It is not always that dramatic but it is at the heart of what we do.
You are nothing if not a story. It’s up to you how good that story is.
Teachers were so misinformed about the concept of whole language and the criticism that it never taught any skills, that many rejected the whole language idea without even understanding it. The truth was that it was strongly, and still is, supported by research. Book publishers didn’t like it because kids were reading library books and schools weren’t buying their expensive programs. They went to great lengths to discredit it and many teachers were unwittingly drawn into their deceit.
I started doing inservices and presentations about what I had done in my classroom. Teachers seemed very intrigued. Many were disenchanted with the basal program they were using and begged me to teach a class on the topic.
After I heard that over and over I decided to do just that. I wrote a course proposal that was approved by the AEA and a couple of the cooperating colleges. I think I taught it once on my own and then taught it with Jean Holtgrewe at the elementary building in Crawfordsville. We were overwhelmed at the response. Over twenty-five people signed up. Most of the teachers were from the Mediapolis or WACO districts.
We spent the whole class talking about the whole language philosophy, demonstrating lessons they could do in their classrooms and talking about improving instruction in general.
One of the most enjoyable parts was that each participant shared a favorite book and a possible activity class members might use or adapt to suit the needs of their students. Each of the weekly classes began with two or three of them sharing their story and activity. I loved to hear about the books and the creative ideas the teachers had about how to utilize them in instruction.
That course met on Monday evenings from late January through May. I am convinced that I learned more than those taking the class. Something about teaching generates enthusiasm and inquiry in me. It’s like charging a battery. Teaching energized me!
At some point in the class I decided to use the Helen Keller story about how she finally made the connection between the hand sign for water and the actual water. It’s that ah ha moment that education is all about. It is not always that dramatic but it is at the heart of what we do.
You are nothing if not a story. It’s up to you how good that story is.
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