I smelled smoke. With no hesitation, I pulled the nearest fire alarm. The fact that the windchill factor was 15 degrees below zero barely crossed my mind as 450 kids, directed by baffled teachers, streamed into the freezing winter cold.
The decision to yank that alarm was easy—emergencies demand action, and it was I who smelled the smoke. I did not need to ask advice, create a committee, or ask for consensus. But this occasion was an exception to the rule; these days, principals make very few decisions as lone rangers. Teachers have become decision makers too, and principals would be wise to involve them in every way possible in resolving the issues they face daily.
Support for granting teachers this power has been a long time coming. After all, hasn't it always been the responsibility of principals to make decisions? Haven't teachers been primarily responsible for cooperating and acting as “good team players”? We principals—sometimes in not-so-subtle ways—have tended to reward the good soldiers who support us and punish those who resist our ideas. And many teachers have felt comfortable in this role—after all, if a decision didn't work, they didn't have to worry because it wasn't their idea in the first place!
But now we're starting to operate according to the principle of subsidiarity—the idea that decisions are best made as close as possible to the point of implementation. Of course, to make such a concept work, we must ensure that it connects to the reality of the schoolhouse—which means that having systems in place is essential.
To share the decision-making process in this way, some schools create multiple committees of teachers who meet to wrestle with school issues. For example, at Valley High Elementary, any faculty concerns about communication generally go to the communication committee. This group ensures that teachers who attend conferences summarize their learning for colleagues; grapples with such concerns as creating a new parent conference system; and plans celebrations to mark such milestones as improvements in test scores.
The school's crisis team, which includes teachers, custodians, secretaries, the school nurse, and the principal, convenes monthly to simulate and respond to crisis situations. This group was tested recently when it learned a gunman was loose in the neighborhood. Team members locked down the building and met immediately, making quick decisions and promptly initiating a system of communication with both parents and teachers. The group's practice sessions had paid off.
Other committees include the safety committee, which meets with parents, crossing guards, bus drivers, and paraprofessionals and keeps an eye on school security and student safety; the budget committee, which approves staff development costs and monitors all expenditures; the parent advisory board, which reviews the progress of the school, offers advice, and on occasion challenges school leaders with difficult questions; and the staff development team, which recommends conferences and seminars that align with school improvement goals. All of these committees are valuable and necessary.
Some pitfalls do exist. Trusting teachers is tough—tougher than merely mouthing the “empowerment” cliché. It can be downright scary for principals to share power: It demands faith in teachers, an understanding of our own limitations, and a realization that in large part, our sense of “control” is mere fantasy. Taking responsibility for the consequences of our decisions is not easy—we all fear making mistakes—but for school leaders it can be even more difficult to give up that responsibility to others.
We need to keep in mind that it's OK not to be perfect. In my long career as principal of an elementary school, I learned to have confidence in teachers, and I strove to support their decisions. As principals, we must encourage risk taking and ensure we have a safety net for those times when committees don't make the best decisions. And these not-so-good decisions—in addition to the best ones—are, at least, learning experiences. When we work according to this philosophy, the idea of the “learning organization” becomes more than education jargon: It means we work together to plan, carry out, and assess the success of our decisions. And as a result, the next round of conversations and planning may be more enlightened.
Different decisions require different kinds of input and action. Some require individual action: The anguish I felt when dismissing a teacher was mine alone. And many cases demand immediate action. As a principal, I made individual, spontaneous decisions on discipline, parent, and personnel issues—and, of course, fire alarms. We need not call for consensus on indoor recess when it is pouring rain.
Other times, I needed a bit of advice. Hiring staff, although ultimately my decision, occurred only after teachers had interviewed, discussed, and recommended candidates. I often asked my secretary to listen to ideas and give me feedback. My PTA president edited my newsletters to save me from “edubabble.” Our special education teacher acted as the informal staff ombudsman. When something was amiss, she came into my office, looked me straight in the eye, and gave me honest feedback.
Like democracy, such a system of decision making is not always efficient. Learning which decisions are “mine,” which are “ours,” and which are “theirs” is a process of trial and error. But by gathering the collective wisdom of staff members, this system ends up being more effective. After all, we entrust teachers each and every day with our kids—our most cherished responsibilities. We must also trust teachers to make the organizational decisions that affect their own lives and the lives of students.
