I remember the first time I heard myself tell a colleague, "I'll go to the mat on this one." I hadn't planned to say it, and I was surprised to hear myself use a wrestling metaphor in a professional setting. As it turns out, that metaphor has taken on an important role in my leadership experience. It has helped me recognize moments when programs, colleagues, and students might be better served by decisive action than by continued discourse and consensus-building. It has also served as a signal that I need to engage in reflective thinking about my own values and motivations.
Reflecting on Moments of Decisiveness
I recall three go-to-the-mat moments during my first term as chairperson of our university's literacy department, which prepares undergraduates, graduates, and professional educators to be reflective teachers. On each of these occasions, I felt compelled to take decisive action despite unresolved disagreement among my colleagues.
The first came when some faculty members insisted that our middle grades language arts teacher candidates be placed only in language arts classrooms for their junior field experience. I, along with other faculty members, believed that those candidates would also benefit from completing their literacy field work in content-area classrooms (such as science or social studies). That was the moment I first heard myself say, "I'll go to the mat on this one."
Surprised by my own impulsive statement, I took some time to unpack my thoughts and emotions. I realized that I was recalling my early-career work with middle grades teachers of science, social studies, and other content areas who said things like, "It's not my job to teach reading," or, "I don't have time to teach my content and reading." These statements violated my core value that we teach students, not content. Revisiting those memories enabled me to understand why I had reacted so strongly and shifted my role so quickly from conversation facilitator to decision maker. I was then able to articulate my position more professionally: "Because students can't learn content if they fail to comprehend assigned readings, universities must begin to prepare both language arts and content-area teachers differently. We will place our candidates outside language arts classrooms so they learn to support reading and writing in the content areas."
My second go-to-the-mat moment as chairperson came later, when the debate at a departmental meeting centered on enrollment caps for various departmental courses. Because the luxury of small classes cannot be enjoyed in every course, department chairs must make difficult choices. When I raised the issue, some faculty members insisted that I maintain low enrollments in seminar courses taken by our upper-level teaching candidates. After the meeting, however, one faculty member stopped by my office to advocate for similarly low enrollments in courses for first-year students whose high school experiences had left them underprepared for college.
When I heard myself impulsively responding, "You're right; I'll go to the mat on this one," I recognized that, once again, a core value was at stake. Remembering my early-career work with high school students who were not experiencing academic success, I understood my motivation and was able to reframe my position more professionally: "No students need or deserve our support more than those who have been underserved and ill-prepared for university study. If we can't have low enrollment in both seminar and support classes, I will prioritize the support classes."
Most recently, I was pleased to recognize a go-to-the-mat moment without even having to verbalize the metaphor. One of my earliest goals as department chairperson had been to enrich our curriculum for teacher candidates who are minoring in reading by building a new course that would better prepare these candidates to meet the needs of students in highly diverse populations. I had set aside that goal when faculty members argued that candidates might decide against completing the reading minor program if we increased the number of required credits. Now, approaching the end of my first term as chairperson, I wanted to try again because I realized that the need to prepare culturally responsive teachers remained one of my core values.
I scheduled a series of conversations, hoping to guide the group to consensus on adding the course. On the morning of the first session, however, I recognized that go-to-the-mat passion within me, and I realized I had neither the patience nor the inclination to work for consensus. I made it clear that the decision had been made: "The revised model I'm proposing has been a professional goal of mine for several years now. Students have been asking to learn more about culturally relevant pedagogy, and recent sociopolitical developments make this course more important than ever. I hope you'll support this initiative despite the risks."
Recognizing Colleagues' Go-to-the-Mat Moments
Understanding the moments when I'm ready to go to the mat has enabled me to recognize, applaud, and support such moments in my colleagues. Our college dean demonstrated one such moment when he needed to decide whether to allocate additional funds for immediate support of at-risk first-year students or to remain within budget by delaying the support by one semester. We had a conversation in which I advocated for immediate academic support and he maintained the need for delay. We agreed to continue the conversation the following day. In an early-morning e-mail, I deferred to his position, but he responded to say he had changed his mind: "I've wrestled with the problem [interesting word choice on his part!], and I decided the students should not be harmed by any policy decisions. I promised myself I would always put students' best interest first when I became a dean."
Similarly, a department member whom I mentor experienced what impressed me as a go-to-the-mat moment. As our assessment coordinator, she led the department through many months of extended conversation about the idea of replacing our graduate-level comprehensive examination with a performance portfolio. All department members expressed dissatisfaction with the existing exam and openness to doing something more meaningful and powerful. Yet some faculty members continued to raise concerns about the proposed changes.
In a private meeting, the coordinator said she wanted to halt conversation and call for a vote that would provide a clear mandate for the committee's next steps. She asked me, as department chairperson, to support that decision, saying, "My primary intention is to protect the integrity, commitment, and energy of the committee members working on this endeavor—and in doing so, advance an effort we strongly believe will benefit our program, our candidates, and ourselves."
Exploring Motivation and Values
What compels leaders to take decisive action without gaining consensus from the group? Why are we sometimes willing to forego the benefits that consensus-building might afford? Hoerr (2010) suggests two possible reasons: (1) Even effective leaders grow weary of conflict, and (2) sometimes a consensus-based decision feels more like a compromise to be tolerated than an exciting outcome to be supported. Without denying the benefits of consensus, he warns, "If we're waiting for everyone to get on the ship of school change, we'll never leave the dock." A need to get things moving may be part of what drove me to the mat regarding revisions to our reading minor program. It clearly drove my colleague to the mat when calling for a vote on the revisions to our comprehensive examination.
Often, though, educational leaders report that their decisions are driven not by a need for action and progress, but by concern for students' best interests. Stefkovich and Begley (2007) offer a model that identifies three elements leaders use to consider students' best interests: rights, responsibility, and respect. These three elements were in play in each of the go-to-the-mat moments I've described. For instance, my colleagues and I recognized the rights of underprepared students when we afforded them the benefits of small class size and adequate funding without delay. We met our responsibility as teacher educators when we prepared middle-grades teacher candidates to support reading comprehension for their future students in the content areas. We respected and celebrated the diversity of learners when we instituted a course to prepare teacher candidates to be culturally sensitive and responsive.
Sustaining Action and Dialogue
When leaders understand the underlying values and motivations that spur decisive action, go-to-the-mat moments can catalyze important work. That is not to imply, however, that such moments should be allowed to preclude rich dialogue. Leaders also need to develop the self-knowledge, leadership capacity, and sensitivity to engage stakeholders in sustained dialogue about the future of that important work (Begley, 2006). It's entirely possible that such dialogue will bring colleagues to consensus about the initiative that was first spurred by a leader's decisive action.
In fact, that's what happened in several of the scenarios discussed here. Department faculty members now share anecdotes and their own core beliefs about the benefits of conducting teacher candidates' literacy field work in content-area classrooms. Members of our assessment committee—with a clear mandate in hand—now engage in dialogue about how to develop the assessment portfolio that will replace the comprehensive examination. Many department members are participating in spirited conversations about how to develop the new reading minor course—even volunteering to attend a retreat during semester break!
Whether education leaders "go to the mat" or rely on some other personally meaningful metaphor, they will find such thinking helpful. When leaders reflect on the underlying values and motivations that drive them to decisive action, they're better equipped to go forth knowledgeably and to articulate their rationale clearly. And having gone confidently to the mat, leaders might find their colleagues willing to join them in the important work that ensues.
READERS' STORIES
One of the best lessons I learned from one mentor was to not let people get to you. I watched her listen to parent complaints quietly, allowing them to "get it all out." Then she would calmly point out the facts of the situation and explain the decision that was being made, based on them. No matter how emotional the people would become, she always remained calm and cool. I was young and relatively inexperienced in my leadership role, so I too often allowed my emotions to come to the surface in similar situations. I am very thankful to have learned a better way with her guidance and support.
—Christopher Allen, high school principal, The American School of Kinshasa, Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo
