I recently read in this newspaper about a student-teacher dispute at Basin’s 1895-founded elementary school, which led to firings and may have helped precipitate the school board decision to shut down. I can’t comment on that, having no knowledge of the specifics.
But as a retired educator of 30-plus years I am deeply familiar with school conflicts — and how to resolve them. I know firsthand that pretty much every student, parent, and teacher, at one point or another in their school journey, faces a moment of tension, disagreement, or unhappiness that tests the relationships on which education depends.
The best solution is often simple communication. But there’s a great deal more to it than that.
Many years ago, my daughter came home from school insisting her math teacher was “an idiot.” A so-called gifted student, my daughter could be quite judgemental. My policy, with any school trouble, was to ask my children whether they could handle the situation or needed me to step in. In this case I made the decision for her and called him.
I found him to be sincere, brilliant, gentle, and willing to try anything, including allowing her to work independently. After my call, he designed a personal curriculum for my daughter. In the end, nobody was necessarily at fault, the two sides had simply had differing expectations and needed a conversation to reach alignment.
When an observer denounces a bad teacher or bad kid they’re most likely seeing signs of struggle. Yet, echoing my daughter’s criticism of her teacher, I’ve heard parents talk of their kid’s “horrible teacher.” Maybe the teacher is actually substandard, maybe not. But dismissal should not be the objective – that’s not our decision. As with my daughter’s situation, could a phone call help clear the air? Rather than judge, the wise move is to support both teacher and student.
Speaking of misjudgements, as a parent I thought it was my job to prevent my children from making mistakes that could have dire consequences. But when my daughter’s mentor criticized my interference, I realized, after getting over my fury, that she was absolutely right.
Mistakes offer valuable learning potential, as the late, great educator Diana Laufenberg argues in her 2010 TED talk, which has tallied nearly 2.5 million views. Students come to school to “get information,” Laufenberg explained, when they should be coming to learn and experience new things. Failure is a critical part of the learning process, so any reasonable education should welcome student errors.
This offers the opportunity to examine mistakes and find the root cause – that’s where the real learning occurs, because it’s personal. When students, particularly young children, experience failure in an environment of trust, they develop a fearlessness that helps deliver new insights and often carries on through their academics and their life.
Teachers should get ahead of potential problems by explaining to students and their parents, even before the school year begins, what’s expected in their classroom in terms of behavior, disputes, coursework and more. This drawing of lines tends to improve parent, teacher, and student behavior, helping everybody feel secure from Day One. Most importantly, it builds trust.
Disputes, on the other hand, can undermine trust. “Low trust is the greatest cost in life and in organizations, including families,” prominent educator and author Stephen Covey writes in his bestselling The Speed of Trust. A lack of trust slows “every decision, every communication, and every relationship.” It leads to personal agendas, defensive communications, and conflict.
But we can increase trust, even in the workplace or at school. And the best way to do so is by following a few simple steps. First, teachers should do their best to avoid confrontation. In my first year of teaching I had a challenging 8th grade student who persistently interrupted lessons with some bit of nonsense or another.
Rather than toss him out of class I would carry on with my teaching and quietly hand him a six-question form to fill out. The queries included “What was I doing?” “What was I supposed to be doing?” and “How did this affect my teacher and my classmates?” For whatever reason, rather than messing about, the student honestly filled out the form, which I filed away.
One day his father called the school to angrily demand a meeting with the principal to discuss his boy’s “difficult” history teacher. When the principal reached out to me for details, I turned over my folder of forms, which were then presented to the
father, who was stunned to learn of his son’s persistent misbehavior. The much-anticipated confrontation between teacher and student, or teacher and parent, never happened. In the end, the boy did well in school that year and went on to perform admirably for years in the US Navy.
This is how I learned that hurdles like student behavioral troubles are best dealt with in private. No children or parents should have to face public shaming or judgement. “Argue with me!” I used to urge my history students. “Just make sure you fight fairly and respectfully: say what you mean, mean what you say, and don’t say it mean.”
They tended to respond favorably to my invitation. The alternative is ignoring the problem and hoping it goes away, or simply withdrawing. These approaches rarely solve anything. Rather, they tend to isolate, build resentment, and increase tensions. Without any communication, there’s no opportunity for explanations or apologies – no release for the building pressure.
Where do we begin when a conversation needs to take place and emotions are sky-high? In the bestselling book “Crucial Conversations,” the four authors argue that when entering high-stakes dialogues, it’s best to “start with heart.” By this, they mean we should first identify our own underlying motives, then make them clear to others. This is the surest route to finding shared objectives all parties can work toward.
When we start with heart, we’re more willing to bring students into the discussion, to empower youth to express themselves and get more involved in their educational success. In fact, I’ve found that one of the best tools to spur greater student involvement in everything – from social issues to discipline to which lessons and what’s on the test – is to ask questions. Constantly. And don’t ask rhetorically or in a way that suggests there’s a right answer.
Ask real questions you’d like to know their thoughts on and give them time to respond. It’s an effective way to generate more emotion and engagement from them, helping drive solutions, and a fantastic way to build trust.
A recent dispute at Whitehall High School underscored the crucial importance of trust when it comes to education. Apparently, school administrators barred the drama club from putting on their play, “I Don’t Want to Talk About It,” because it touches on suicide. Prompted by their frustrated drama club children, many parents were unhappy about the move, which some viewed as censorship that silenced student voices.
“As parents, we entrust our children’s education to schools with the expectation that they will be supported, challenged, and encouraged to grow both academically and personally,” one student parent wrote in the Whitehall Ledger in February. “Unfortunately, recent Whitehall Middle/High School events have made it clear that this trust has been broken.”
The author went on to detail conversations with teachers and administrators that ended in roadblocks and even straight-up falsehoods. “Sometimes,” she concluded, “the best option is to take education into our own hands.” That is a sad state of affairs, and largely the result of a single, unavoidable conflict that was allowed to fester.
Did Basin Elementary face similar issues? I can’t say for sure. But when a 130-year-old school faces possible permanent closure, there has most likely been a communication breakdown. Might the community and school board have given up too soon? Again, I don’t know, but deeper commitment and a willingness to test alternate strategies could have helped.
Fortunately for the good people of Basin, improved communication at board meetings, a rebuilding of trust and a commitment to resolution seem to have helped reduce tensions, leading to real progress for the cherished local school, as detailed in last week’s Monitor.
Better late than never.
Helena-based Karen Porteous is a retired educator who taught in Montana schools for 25 years, including multiple computer science courses.
