“I have six months under my belt as a new administrator,” reports Justine C. Salvo. “And I'm happy to say that I survived the initial induction, that I'm alive and well to tell about it.”An assistant principal of an intermediate school, an elementary school principal, a junior high school language arts teacher, and a high school summer school teacher of science talk about surviving day one on the job—and the days that follow. They talk about the initial shellshock of landing in seemingly impossible situations—“heartwarming, frustrating, mind-boggling, bizarre!” They reflect on how they managed to steer their way through, and how they were able “to find due north.”—The Editors
Assistant Principal Justine C. Salvo
I was recently hired as an assistant principal of an intermediate school that houses grades 6–8. A new wing was being added that would serve 350 5th graders and would function as a school-within-a-school. I was appointed the administrator responsible for the 5th grade school.
Construction of the new wing was almost complete. We were down to the wire because school was scheduled to open in a few days. I was confident in my Plan A: that construction would be completed on time and school would open on the scheduled date.
In my new position, I decided to apply the basic lessons of administration: Be confident, stay positive, plan for the unexpected, and never let them see you sweat. But soon I was forced to apply another lesson as well: Let go of what you can't control or you'll dispense energy you can't afford to lose. Two days before school was scheduled to start, the student desks were on back order, final inspections for the building were incomplete, furniture for the main office was not delivered, the security system was not installed, and our phones and computers didn't work.
Teachers wanted to get into their classrooms so they could prepare. So what if the floor tiles weren't laid down and everyone entering the construction site needed to wear a hard hat? The parents wanted to know when the school would be ready; they feared the construction would take at least another six months. Some parents insisted on touring the building with their children even though the building had not been inspected. Of course, they promised not to tell anyone if I allowed them to walk inside.
Others wanted to know why the contractors were behind schedule, and they turned to the administration for answers. The administration turned to the construction company. The construction company turned to nature and blamed the delay on icy winter weather. I was the person everyone approached with questions that had no answers—at least none they wanted to hear.
I had to deal with other challenges as well. With the first rainfall came the discovery that the new roof leaked. Our intercom system worked, but not in the classrooms. We had air conditioning and heat, but periodically the temperature soared above 90 degrees in the restrooms. The gymnasium and lunchroom would not be operational for another month. The custodial staff was unavailable to complete cleaning and repair projects because custodians were taking vacation days or calling in sick. Our school nurse was on an indefinite leave of absence.
Despite all this, I tried to remain positive. I might not be able to control events, I told myself, but I could certainly control how I responded.
During this time, the principal of the building, our two assistant superintendents, and the chief school administrator of our district gave me autonomy and encouragement. Having their backing gave me confidence to pursue my goals and apply my views about shared leadership and learning, which helped me gain the respect of teachers, parents, and the entire administrative team.
My story does have a happy ending. The student desks were delivered, the tile floor was completed, and we passed final inspection. On the anticipated start date, excited 5th graders entered a brand-new, state-of-the-art building, greeted by a caring and dedicated staff. Because I listened to parental concerns, invited parents to tour the building and visit classrooms, and adapted procedures to meet their needs, the parents came to realize that their children were in a safe, secure, and nurturing environment.
Managing building operations and solving maintenance problems will always be part of an administrator's responsibilities and can consume a large portion of the workday. But the most important lessons I've learned thus far are taking time to reflect on your vision and focusing on student learning. If the roof leaks again or the intercom system develops a mind of its own, I can smile because I know that eventually these problems will be distant memories. The possibilities of the future give me the strength to continue on my journey as an education leader.
Principal Lolethia Kibble
I'm not sure whether it was our underfunded school system or just the times—it was 1984, the era of “sink or swim”—but there was no induction process when I became an elementary school principal. I had no administrative experience, and preservice programs had not yet recognized the importance of giving prospective principals opportunities to translate theory into practice. Undaunted and armed with a few theories and a freshly highlighted copy of A Nation at Risk, I entered the fray.
Initially, every decision I made seemed correct. By the first day of classes, I was confident that I could move the school forward. Then, without warning, a cloud began to form in my office. It grew larger and more ominous every day. I was moving as fast as I could, but I couldn't keep up. I came in early, worked hard, and left late. There were just too many tasks to juggle at one time. At the end of each day, more and more of them lay unfinished at my feet. No one noticed and no one cared. I began to feel unappreciated and apprehensive. I feared that those who entered my office would notice the gathering storm.
Going from the classroom to the office was a culture shock. I was in a foreign country, and I did not know the language or the customs. There were policies I had not read, forms I could not find, and issues I had not imagined. There was no fellow traveler next door or down the hall with whom I could commiserate. I was no longer a part of “us.” I was “them.”
One day, after I laid down the law to a group of students waiting in front of a string of school buses, the crossing guard cheered me on as I marched triumphantly back to the building. I smiled bleakly, but I felt like a fraud. I reached my office and closed the door just as the storm broke. “What am I doing here?” I shouted to myself. “I'm no principal!” I cringed as I recalled every moment of perceived incompetence. Quitting was my first impulse. Yet I knew I had to make it through the school year. But how?
First, I pulled out old textbooks and handouts that I had carelessly tossed aside. But I didn't need more theories—I couldn't even apply the ones I had. Then I visualized what other principals I knew would do in a given situation. Eventually I got up the nerve to call a more experienced colleague to share my plight and ask if I could spend the day with him.
Without a formal agreement, my colleague became my mentor. During the first 20 minutes of my visit, he just listened. Then he assured me that I would be fine, recounted his own tale of woe, and explained what he had learned about administration. Finally, he walked me through my most pressing issues. With all of the interruptions, we spent less than two hours actually talking. There were phone calls and visits from a fund-raiser, a parent, several teachers, and an irate custodian. There were several trips out of the office: upstairs, downstairs, and out to the playground. The principal remained calm, knowledgeable, and supportive as he worked through each issue. He involved me in everything. He gave me background information. He asked for my opinion. He found humor in calamity. He made things happen. He was the principal I wanted to be.
I was almost excited about going to work the next day. I felt confident and empowered. I had learned that my problems were not unique but indigenous to the position. I couldn't lead the school I wished I had; I needed to lead the school I had.
I still had more tasks than I could handle in a day. I prioritized, did what I could, and let the other tasks wait. I learned that most plans were tentative and that everyone came with assets and liabilities. I developed systems to manage the routine tasks, freeing me to deal with the exceptions and real crises. This also gave me time to focus on instructional leadership and improving student achievement.
What helped carry me through those early days has become a mantra for me personally and professionally: Every new venture requires a guide for the journey. With the help of a mentor, I made it through the year and decided to give it another try. In time I began to thrive on the fast-paced, unpredictable life of a school administrator.
Language Arts Teacher Mary Anthony Furay
I'm so angry at my students. So many of them are out of control. The conduct referrals aren't helping. My body is angry, my mind is angry, and my soul is angry. What can I do? I've tried everything.
I wrote this journal entry on January 9, 2004, after a particularly trying Friday. I was in my first year teaching 6th through 8th grade language arts at a Catholic elementary school, and I was mad at the world. I was bewildered at my students for not seeming to care about me when I cared so passionately about them. I was irritated by the countless “helpful” people who, when I tried to share what I was going through, immediately and sympathetically replied that they would never teach junior high and that I must be a saint. I needed counsel. I wanted to know how to handle Charles, or Thomas, or all of the kids in general, how to care less so I wouldn't get hurt, how to get past a horrible day, how to handle colleagues on the staff when they said or did something unsupportive, how to not raise my voice to the students, how to not beat myself up when I made a mistake.
My father, a 40-year teaching veteran, offered me a good piece of advice. Teachers, he said, help about 30 to 40 percent of their problem students on a good day. Success and failure are both part of the equation, and it would be foolish to focus on only half of the results. We talked about the makeup of my class—there were more than twice as many boys as girls—and about how previous teachers had found this particular class challenging.
“If other teachers with a lot more experience found them hard to handle, you're going to have a hard time, too,” he said. It was a relief to admit to myself that some of these difficulties would continue year after year, despite my best efforts. It humbled my arrogance.
Teachers, especially new ones, love to acquire those novelty coffee mugs, the ones that say “Teachers change the world!” or “Teachers brighten the day!” or “Teachers grow a garden of hope!” But how many mugs would sell if they said “Teachers change the world ... a little bit. Mostly the world stays about the same because not everything can be neatly resolved in one year. So stop beating yourself up. Be realistic. Do what you can.” A comment like this, as true as it is, just doesn't fit on a mug.
To effectively teach this difficult class, I realized that I would need to deal more decisively with the troublemakers. I started handing out what I called 6th Grade Justice. I thought of it as my own television program, along the lines of Judge Judy. A few of the parents started calling, and one of them even scolded me for punishing her son too often. I sought out two veteran teachers on staff and asked for their advice. They encouraged me to continue. They told me that good teachers are consistent with discipline, that when a student misbehaves, he or she should consistently experience the consequences.
I relied on these two veteran teachers almost nonstop that first year. In fact, I still go to them often, realizing I still have a lot to learn.
I think of a new teacher as an apprentice in glass blowing. At some point, having observed for years, the young person will know the measurements, ingredients, and circumstances needed to create a beautiful work of art. When apprentices begin their work in the field, however, they are not yet skilled craftspeople, because they're still fresh and inexperienced, and they're going to make a thousand mistakes. But don't let them beat themselves up about it. Pair them with people who have mastered the craft. This doesn't mean that apprentices aren't creating their own works of art. For the time being, however, what they're producing has some cracks and imperfections. All they need are the time and the guidance to get it right.
I was blessed my first year by the many master craftspeople who helped me: my parents, my principal, and two wise colleagues who had taught for years. I am not always a great teacher, but through my support system I have more than 85 years of combined teaching experience to draw on. Every apprentice could use such support.
Science Teacher Edward A. Sierra
When asked for feedback about the earth science course that I taught last summer, one of my students wrote, “You were passionate about being a great teacher, so I wanted to be a great student.” I did display plenty of passion, but half of my students did not achieve the minimum proficiency score of 65 percent on the New York State Earth Science Regents Exam.
Over the years, I have been a substitute teacher in various Long Island, New York, school districts. Taking vacation time from my regular job as a project engineer afforded me the opportunity to teach one section of a summer school earth science class to 25 teenagers ranging from 15 to 17 years old.
My goal was clear. I wanted my students to pass the Regents Exam. For three months prior to the class, I rigorously reviewed subject-matter content. I read through the entire review book and answered all the questions. I purchased and reviewed 200 overhead transparencies to facilitate classroom discussion. I reviewed old Regents Exams, gathered quizzes for each topic, and made copies for everyone. When the summer session began, I was confident that I could speak fluently about the subject matter. I was prepared to deliver a lecture-based, teacher-led course.
At the beginning of the course, I showed the scene from the movie Dead Poets Society in which the teacher inspires his students to live full lives. He tells them, “Carpe Diem! Seize the day! Make your lives extraordinary!” I also mentioned a friend whom I had lost in a commercial airplane crash who loved that movie. The words “Carpe Diem” are on his grave marker. One of the students asked, “What's this movie have to do with the class?” Another chimed in, “It's about not being a loser!”
It was a start, but a few weeks into the course, it was clear that my lecture-based strategy was not working. I asked a student to videotape a class session. After watching the tape for 20 minutes, I was bored. I could now relate to the student who said, “You're not going to talk the whole class, are you? You're killing me.”
It was time for a different teaching strategy. I picked three students who would go to the front of the class and lead a group effort on a quiz; everybody would get the same score. The students were engaged, on task, and using logical reasoning to come up with answers. But success was short-lived. After a few days, the few motivated students were carrying the class and not everybody was learning.
- You always review exactly what's going to be on the quiz beforehand.
- When teaching lessons, you provide interesting analogies and extra facts to emphasize your points. You also give every student a fair and equal chance.
- You're a good teacher. Earth science is just a little boring.
- You take it slow and easy and you explain everything.
- You don't motivate us enough.
- You should talk less. We should have more group work.
- You should make the class more exciting.
I'll get another shot this summer at getting all my students to demonstrate proficiency on the Regents Exam. But to make that happen, I need to make some changes. The quizzes I gave did not reflect the flavor of the Regents; I learned that I must spend more time preparing by looking at past exams. But more important, I'll reduce the amount of time I spend reviewing subject matter before the start of class and focus on learning teaching strategies to make the class more interesting, exciting, and fun. I also intend to tackle the problem of student motivation. In The Classroom of Choice: Giving Students What They Need and Getting What You Want (ASCD, 2004), Jonathan C. Erwin points out that “all students are motivated, but they may not be motivated to learn and behave in the ways that teachers and schools prefer.” I'm eager to read this book and find ways to tap into students' intrinsic motivation.
