Word spread quickly through a seminar on school improvement: a public official was criticizing the international studies curriculums of one of the organizations many of us worked with, generating substantial media attention. I listened with interest to the discussions stimulated by the news: expressions of sympathy for the staff, disbelief by one of the authors, speculation about strategies for responding to the criticism, and on the side, a few quiet musings about whether some of the allegations might be true. For the first time, I began to give serious attention to the influence on education of individual critics and special interest groups.
As a former teacher and principal, I had worked with advocates for gifted students, special education students, computer education, career education, and so forth. But the news that came to us at the seminar felt different. The interest groups I had worked with had exerted pressure, but this felt like conflict.
Not long after that, conflict moved even closer to home. Local community members in a district I had recently left criticized the family life and global education components of a staff development program, the latter of which I had helped to develop. I was quietly relieved not to have to face the controversy directly, but I spent time with my colleagues considering how to manage deep differences while remaining committed to both the common good and the right for individuals to be heard in a democratic forum. Little did I know then how these discussions would become a routine part of my life over the next several years.
In the abstract, I found it easy to be clear about how to respond to pressures from special interest groups, whether they be those labeled the “Religious Right” today or the radical peace groups of the far left in the '60s and '70s. I believe that a school system that serves as the foundation for a democratic nation has a commitment to serve all its citizens—including those whose ideas differ from mainstream society. It has a responsibility to build its curriculum and programs through open, democratic processes that allow for competing ideas to be respectfully heard and tested. Yet, most of us are ill-prepared to put such ideals into practice.
At present, I direct an organization committed to developing curriculum materials that present complex and controversial issues in an evenhanded way. My colleagues and I are not facing the pressures of daily student and parent contact nor the breadth of responsibilities handled by school districts, yet we struggle to achieve our ideal. Our backgrounds, our belief systems about the world and about education, the causes we care about, and the availability of resource people, information, materials, and time all interfere with our ability to fully realize our goal. I have no illusions about how much is required of schools to implement democratic ideals and to manage the competing ideas about education put forth by strong, vocal interest groups and individuals in their communities.
Questions We Ask Ourselves
So what do we as educators do when faced with the responsibility and, increasingly the demand, that our communities be heard as we formulate our curriculums and practices? None of us has all the answers as we try to reach across wide chasms of belief and “worldview,” but some basic questions may set us on the course of reasonable, responsible action.
Can I see my own back? We each hold a set of assumptions about the world that influences our decisions and actions. Many of our values are so deeply embedded that we are not consciously aware of them. Although I work in a supportive environment, the struggle to “see our own backs” was not easy during this past year as a Japanese America wrote about U.S.-Japan relations, a Cuban immigrant wrote about migration from Latin America, and a German wrote about nationalism in Europe. Creating a situation in which others do tell us what we cannot see requires trust, sensitivity, and skill.
Often hidden from us is our own placement on the political spectrum. Most people I know think of themselves as “moderate”—perhaps a little “right” or a little “left”—but our perception of the “middle” is most often determined by where we ourselves sit. A few years ago, I observed several educators at an institute vehemently criticize the “conservative” views of an economist whom I considered to be fairly moderate. A day earlier, they had enthusiastically praised a geographer, whose presentation I saw as clearly liberal, and they never noticed his political leanings. It is hard to say who is left, right, and middle here, but it is easy to agree with someone with whom our own beliefs coincide.
How do I respond to conflict? Each of us responds differently to conflict. Some rise to challenges with energy and excitement. Some become defensive. Others withdraw or manipulate the environment to avoid confrontation. A sad irony growing out of some of the most difficult recent confrontations in education is that those at the “eye of the storm” are often isolated as their colleagues withdraw and distance themselves. Conflict, even from a distance, is scary to many of us—especially when our job is to maintain public confidence and order in our schools. Understanding one's response to conflict may help separate personal inclinations from appropriate and responsible actions as a professional educator.
Do we clearly understand our institutional and individual roles and the parameters of our organization? In order to function effectively in daily business and during times of conflict, we must know the core values embodied by our organizations. What are the “givens,” the rules that cannot be changed? We all operate in a world of real limits.
As an individual, am I a defender of our institutional policy or a custodian of public trust and participation? Am I an advocate for a particular position, or am I seeking common ground? Is it my role to communicate the institution's ideas to others or to facilitate communication and the consideration of many ideas, including my own? Or is it all of these and others, at different times and in different situations?
Are we democratic? Am I genuinely committed to democratic decision making? Are procedures for community involvement truly open? Is there a place for legitimate dissent? Democracy is a noisy process that includes the raised voices of highly charged debate in which ideas and interests compete. Sheldon Wolin, a political philosopher, reminds us that: Democracy involves listening to a lot of discordant voices and disparate interests and conflicting points of view.... Democracy really comes down to people trying to cooperate, to make common decisions in contexts where there's great diversity and strong conflict.......the problem is not to come to the most rationally justifiable decision.... It's a problem of trying to come to a decision in which there are conflicting legitimate claims.
Unless we intend to declare war on segments of our communities and play power politics to protect our domain, we must ensure that our decision-making processes are open and that they protect the rights of both the most vocal and the most silent in our communities. We must find ways to discuss important issues that encourage a dialogue instead of a diatribe. A public hearing where people advocate their positions only encourages further entrenchment—a contest of numbers, oratory, and forcefulness. In contrast, a forum in which diverse interests come together to seek common solutions may encourage modification of ideas and consensus.
Decision making through forums is different from deciding on a plan for school change and “selling” the idea to the community or the district. It requires that we genuinely consider ideas that may dramatically alter our plans.
Have we developed and do we follow clear policies and procedures, especially those for dealing with concerns about the curriculum? As important as the open forum is in democratic education, a time comes when we must make decisions, specify programs, and set policies. Even if some conflicts remain unresolved, we must make a commitment and act. If decision making has engaged the stakeholders respectfully and effectively, decisions will carry the support, or at least the understanding, of the community. Some individuals or groups who have taken extreme positions may still be unwilling or unable to support the decision. I do believe, however, that combining democratic processes with conflict management techniques such as consensus building can minimize dissent by avoiding the creation of “winners” and “losers.”
When carefully crafted policies, procedures, and curriculums are in place, an administrator then has a procedure to explore concerns and a policy to fall back on when making a decision. A clear rationale for curriculum choices that is articulated in district publications, understood by district employees, and consistent in district communications provides an important base when dealing with challenges to the curriculum.
Do we have skilled facilitators who understand conflict management? If we are committed to democratic processes and the open discussion of issues, then those who can help people hear one another, build consensus, and synthesize ideas should have a major role in our communities and educational institutions. Conflict management procedures may be used to successfully address school disputes and may offer helpful ideas as we seek common ground in our communities. Organizations such as the National Institute for Dispute Resolution have much to offer educators dealing with community conflicts and special interest groups.
Do we know, specifically, who our critics are? Do we know what the issue is? When criticism arises, we often react emotionally, either misjudging the scale or the nature of the problem—at times underestimating or even greatly exaggerating the issue. We need to determine whether the issue is an individual's concern, a generalized problem, or an organized political movement attempting to influence education in the community.
When dealing with conflict, I have trouble with terms like liberal, conservative, Religious Right, and Radical Left. Who is that really? Is it an organization, or is it my sister-in-law, or my colleague's evangelical associates, or the best man at our wedding? I know people all across the political spectrum who are dogmatists and crusaders—whose mission and zeal shut out all opportunity for dialogue and the establishment of common ground.
Labels make our lives simpler; we know who we are, and we can easily distinguish ourselves from those who are different from us. Psychologists and sociologists explain the benefits of affiliation and even describe the “psychological benefits” of war as people are united around a common cause. But labels belie the complexity of the human character and the groups with which we associate them. They serve as barriers to communication as decisions are built around a world that pits “us” against “them.”
We Need All Perspectives
To move our programs forward without challenge may be easier than to deal with conflict, but the issues we confront today are so complex and difficult that we can ill afford to overlook any potential solution or to exclude any interested community members. Challenges to our beliefs and assumptions require us to think clearly and openly about what we believe to be most important. As arguments that have been voiced quietly behind closed doors enter the public debate, community members actively consider what is important in education. Is this not evidence of a healthy democracy in action?
Daily headlines remind us of the terrible price we humans continue to pay because of our inability to manage our conflicts of belief and worldview. Differences don't disappear because they are suppressed. Deeply held beliefs and values have incredible durability. What distinguishes the forum of competing interests in a democracy from anarchy and chaos is the commitment from participants to seek the common good.
The world watches with interest, hope, and caution as the Israelis and Palestinians work out the practical implementation of the ideal of peaceful co-existence. They, as we, may not achieve that ideal. I, however, rest easier knowing that they are talking, listening, and struggling together with difficult issues across vast differences. As we interact with special interest groups in our communities, let us remember that historic handshake on the White House lawn, and the faith, courage, and trust it required.
