Let’s acknowledge that this isn’t the start of school we expected or wanted for Fall 2021. Last spring, with optimism and anticipation, we at One Schoolhouse began focusing on the horizon using “Next Normal” language in our webinars, professional development courses, and blog posts. Instead, here academic leaders are, back in Covid-driven logistical considerations and conversations. How can leaders best navigate making academic decisions while tensions and emotions are running high and it’s increasingly clear that “post-pandemic” is still a futuristic phrase?

The start of school always has a certain duality to it as academic leaders rapidly switch attention between short-term trouble-shooting and progress towards long-term strategic goals. This year, leaders are solving typical (and some atypical) problems at a rapid-fire pace that Brad, our Head of School, likes to call Whack-A-Mole. At the same time, leaders are working to make sure that this school year starts with essential curricular adaptations (necessitated by two disrupted school years) in place. 

One strategy for addressing the question of “what’s next?” is to rely on a framework. One of my favorites is the Eisenhower Square, immortalized by Stephen R. Covey, and since shared in countless other publications. There are many models and variations of this around. A quick search will reveal countless versions, some designed with educators in mind. (You can even buy a planner set up to mimic the matrix!) The basics are a four-quadrant matrix with two axis, Important/Not Important, and Urgent/Not Urgent:

Well, I guess it’s too late in some parts of North America, but in many others the time of teacher and student “orientation” is nearly upon us—when schools everywhere set aside a day or more to gather groups together to prepare for a year of collaboration and productivity. 

​At just about the time I got into this business, the good thinking of social psychologists began to penetrate the world of independent schools, and so “team building” and “group process” exercises became a regular part of these orientational get-togethers. Students and teachers alike experienced softball games, ropes courses, and the dreaded trust fall, all in the name of group solidarity and a little pre-school-year entertainment.

Time and a deluge of corporate-inspired  newer, cooler exercises have upgraded activity menus, at least in terms of novelty and perhaps even efficacy. Maybe a few days in the woods has gotten old, but how about a trapeze or slack wire? How about having an improv group come to coach the tenth-grade advising team?

So here we are, and I know that many readers would look forward to diving into any and all of these and being there to help students process “Yes, and” or “One Word at a Time.” For many people, such activities are probably happy reminders of fun times at camp, in college, or around the family game table.

Stepping now into my role as a curmudgeon, I am going to offer another perspective and a caution. I won’t dwell on my own upbringing in a family where games were not played and tents or horseshoes never pitched, nor on having been the fat, uncoordinated kid at camp and everywhere else, though some of you may relate. 

You have colleagues and students for whom stepping into the game circle is like climbing out of the trenches into machine-gun fire. In some households there may not have been the resources, the family time, or the cultural practice of fun and games. Some people find certain kinds of games culturally or spiritually anathema. Asking these folks to do things that are unfamiliar for reasons of upbringing, culture, or limited resources can cause pain and even shame.

Then there are those whose self-consciousness for reasons that you would and could never guess makes participation in certain kinds of activities a source of extreme discomfort. Or people dealing with trauma that you (and possibly they) neither know or understand. Some are just physically or socially insecure.

The educator in you wants to respond, “But, hey, that’s the point! To help people develop the confidence to jump in and participate, to take personal risks as part of a growth process and to gain trust in the group.” True. Many people, most people, seem to enjoy these group activities. But some do not, and they either participate, perhaps ineptly, or choose to step away—feeling watched and judged—at a significant cost to their self-esteem. 

Many years ago I was part of an eighth-grade trip to a wilderness education center. One afternoon the onsite ropes course instructor decided a shy, overweight kid should climb a knotted rope. The instructor started with all his positive reinforcement tools and language, but the kid wasn’t buying it. The instructor ramped up the cajoling, ranging between upbeat and positive and stern and dismissive of the student’s “defeatist” attitude.

I had once been that kid myself, sure, but what I also knew in this case was that this child’s life was ruled by an anxious, overbearing parent. I watched the kid stand there, shamefaced, looking at the ground and surreptitiously wiping away tears. 

Then the kid looked straight at the instructor and said, “No! I’m not gonna do it!” The language may have strayed into the more colorful, but the message was what mattered. 

I took the instructor by the arm and pulled him aside. I had realized something: this might have been the first time this child had ever spoken had ever put their foot down and said NO! to an adult. I gave the short version of my thought to the instructor, who got it. Later he told me he’d never thought of refusal as an act of courage.

Well, don’t we spend a lot of time and energy exhorting kids to say no to peer pressure, to bad decisions—that sometimes refusing is BRAVE?

If we’re promoting and facilitating fun-for-most group activities, we must find ways of letting people who really don’t want to participate opt out without their demurral having to be an act of courage. 

Educators know that shame and embarrassment kill learning. We need to provide pathways for the truly uncomfortable to choose nonparticipation without making them feel stigmatized or humiliated.

At One Schoolhouse we’re fans of providing pathways to learning based on students’ interests and proclivities; we even do this in our professional development courses. How about offering choices when we’re charging into the woods or doing improv or whatever else we’ve planned to help our communities develop cohesion? Why not?

TO BE CLEAR: If an activity or exercise, particularly for faculty, bears on the strategic work and mission of the school or on preparing folks to work more effectively with students, opt-out should not be an option—but even then, are there multiple paths to the same goals that would play to all participants’ desires to learn and improve?

An end note: As an adult I spent many, many summers working happily in camps, and the many board-game boxes in my house are about worn out. I hiked high peaks before the knees went, but I never could and never will climb a rope. And, yes, I opt out of things when I’m comfortable; I learned to live with my shame sixty years ago. But other people shouldn’t have to.

When students are handed their schedules for the year, they feel like they’re holding a verdict in their hands.  The perceived stakes mean that a schedule has to be built to withstand not only all the logistical demands we throw at it--classroom availability, crossover teachers, early dismissals--but also the emotional weight of each student’s hopes and plans for the year. When those competing sets of priorities collide, academic leaders brace for impact. 
 
Because of the emotions that are wrapped up in student schedules, it’s especially important for schools to solve these problems quickly and effectively. Our partnerships provide the flexibility and range of courses individual students need without compromising a school’s purpose-built schedule. The key to that flexibility is asynchronous learning. 
 
In the early days of crisis distance learning, asynchronous coursework unfairly earned a bad reputation for being unengaging and impersonal. The key to understanding that reputation is the context of “crisis”:  anything that’s built quickly and under stress isn’t going to meet the standard of intentional and expert design--which is exactly what students and families expect from independent schools. 
 
That’s why expert and intentional design is the hallmark of One Schoolhouse’s student courses. We begin by building a faculty comprised of experienced independent school teachers who are experts in their fields. (92% of them hold advanced degrees!) We’ve learned that great classroom teachers need additional competencies and skills to become extraordinary online instructors, so we train our teachers in building online connections with students, effective online communication, and technological acumen. 
 
Asynchronous work allows students to have a personalized experience that aligns to their learning preferences. One student can watch a video to learn a new concept, while another reads a selection from a textbook. And asynchronous assignments don’t have to be self-paced or solitary. Shared weekly due dates ensure that although students complete assignments at the time that works for them, they’re mastering the same content that their classmates are learning. As a result, students have regular opportunities for collaboration and conversation, like writing skits to practice vocabulary and grammar in language courses, or collecting data for a social psychology experiment.
 
When schools use online asynchronous courses strategically, they’re not limited by classroom space, staffing, or singleton sections. It becomes possible for a student to take two courses that meet at the same time, and financially sustainable for a school to offer an advanced math course for just three students.  When academic leaders can start the year by finding positive solutions to scheduling problems, they’re starting off with a win.

One Schoolhouse can help solve your scheduling or staffing problems this year. Call us at  202.618.3637 or email info@oneschoolhouse.org

July is the beach-and-boardwalk time of the summer for Academic Leaders -- a chance to plan, reflect, and take a break. But, hiding in that boardwalk, past the fried food and ice cream counters, deep in the arcade, lies an old game that portends what’s about to hit Academic Leaders when August hits: Whack-a-Mole. You remember the game: a mole appears and you hit it in the head with a hammer… then two moles pop up… then they come at you quicker and quicker until there is no way any human can hit all the moles as they appear.  That’s August in independent schools. The good news: you can handle it.

Why am I certain that you can handle this year’s Whack-a-Mole season? Because you just went through pandemics that sharpened your skills at fast-problem solving. Way back in March 2020, we offered some tips for schools to make fast-paced decisions during the COVID-19 pandemic. Those guidelines apply this month as well.

Be calm and pause. Take a second (or a minute or an hour) to pause before you make a decision to center the decision making on the mission and values of the school, and on the interests of students. And, for goodness sake, do not make a decision when tensions or emotions are running high. 

Be straightforward and clear. The beginning of the school-year brings anxiety and uncertainty across your campus: Who is my teacher? Will I make the soccer team? Is my classroom ready? In times of uncertainty and heightened anxiety, people want straightforward answers. (Personally, I try to channel my inner Brene Brown: Clear is Kind). Clarity includes a shared understanding of who is responsible for making a given type of decision. Consider sitting down with the team of Academic Leaders at your school soon to make your internal team has clarity, and then consider publishing a quick handout to students and families so that they are getting to the person who can be most helpful in handling their problem or challenge.

Create simple solutions.  When you have to make decisions quickly, you do not have the time to create complex solutions and you very often are working with incomplete information. You may even consider acknowledging that the solution you are creating in August would be different than if the problem appeared in June or November.  If you try to create complex solutions, you’ll likely create more problems for yourself. 

​We’re seeing some pretty extraordinary shifts in staffing this summer. News stories about “The Great Resignation” are popping up across the media, and schools are finding out about faculty departures far later than they usually do. With the hiring timeline disrupted, it’s time to re-examine if traditional onboarding practices still serve schools well.

In our pulse survey of Academic Leaders two weeks ago, 94% of respondents told us they were planning to hold meetings for new teachers. Traditionally, that means they’ll gather new teachers on campus with a handful of administrators, typically in one of the last days before opening meetings begin. If you’ve got teachers who were hired in April, they’ve likely worked through their curriculum, syllabi, and resources. By the time meetings open, they’re ready to go.

On the other hand, if you’re working with a teacher you just hired at the end of July, you have to pick your priorities--do you want that new teacher in five days of meetings when they’ve just seen the Chemistry textbook you use for the first time? Although the problem may be especially acute this year, it’s not going away:  heads across the country tell us that despite their best efforts, their hiring seasons are both longer and less predictable. 

To respond to the changing workforce and emerging patterns in employee behaviors, Academic Leaders need to build an on-boarding system that maximizes flexibility and aligns with the school’s priorities. The good news? You already have a system that can do this:  your LMS. At One Schoolhouse, we’ve never had the luxury of bringing our teachers together. Instead, we’ve developed a highly intentional course in our LMS to introduce teachers to our practices and pedagogy, which we support with regular face-to-face meetings with our instructional designers and Director of Studies. 

At the base of our approach to learning online is the conviction that schools are communities. We don’t think online learning should entirely replace what happens in a classroom, and we believe that offering some courses online allows schools to laser-focus their attention on the experiences that define the institution. 

That’s what we believe about onboarding online, too. The time you bring your new faculty together as a group should focus on what’s essential to do in person, like relationship-building, mentorship, and pedagogy. Your LMS can be used to pass along content, like dismissal routines and duty rosters--the kinds of information that can be slow and tedious to review in person, and will be relevant to review later in the school year.

Moving onboarding processes online isn’t a fast process. If you’re looking to make this shift, you’ll want to go through this year’s new faculty orientation with an eye toward what you’ll change for Fall 2022. This summer, however, there are a few small things you can do (and you might already do them!) that can make a difference to the Fall 2021 cohort:

• Start communicating as a group. If your new faculty is already in your LMS, create a discussion board so they can introduce themselves and have an opportunity to ask questions. (I always wanted to know where the hardware store was before I arrived in town!) If you don’t have a system that permits this, a group email thread can do much of the same work.
  
• Create an online onboarding library. If you’re still handing out binders and folders, take the digital documents and post them on your LMS or in a shared folder that you make accessible to new faculty.

To your new faculty members, your opening meetings are a microcosm of what they can expect in the year to come. Spending the time together on what’s truly meaningful is an important way to convey your schools’ mission, vision, and values.