Big Dream, Little Dream

 

The act of “dreaming” is a fascinating pursuit.  Depending upon one’s state of mind, a “dream” can take on many different forms.  For some, it results in a dramatic expansion of horizons and ideas.  For others, it becomes an expression couched in frustration.

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I spoke with a colleague and asked her to dream with me!  Tell me, I asked her, about your dream Inclusion Program.  She replied, I need more Inclusion Specialists in my program.  I need more support.  I turned to another colleague, in hopes of finding someone who wanted to “dream big.”  My dream program has more academic coaches, he said.  I approached a third colleague, who has more experience in the roll.  I dream of teachers who are flexible and willing to accommodate students with special needs, she said.  I recognized a theme surfacing through these conversations – my colleagues were expressing overwhelm and a desire for more support.

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My own dream Inclusion Program is not actually a “program” at all.  I dream of a school where personalization and effective differentiation is palpable and present in every classroom, for every learner.  Like my colleagues, I dream of a school that is well staffed to meet the needs of every student, where perhaps, “Special Education” teachers co-teach with “General Education” teachers, but the curriculum is neither “special” nor “general,” but rich and meaningful and personalized for all.  I dream of a school where people who have specialized knowledge about the neurology and physiology of learning differences collaborate with colleagues to co-design rich learning experiences.  Every adult at my dream school is devoted to the pursuit of discovering how to challenge and support every learner.

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The more I pondered my dreams and the dreams of my colleagues, the more clarity began to surface. I spoke with a trusted mentor who pointed out some important context about the link between overwhelm and years of experience.  We discussed how, in some cases, overwhelm is linked to personality.  I have colleagues who are overwhelmed due to being new teachers, due to being “type a” personalities, and perhaps above all, due to the fact that our work is hard!  But I myself experienced arriving at a place where the work felt manageable, and I see others who appear to feel the same.  A certain degree of overwhelm is important – it means we are taking on work that is challenging and valuable.

I decided that in order to begin pursuing both my dreams and the dreams of my colleagues, our starting point is to explore the structures of our current programs.  How many Inclusion Specialists?  How many coaches?  How are these “resources” utilized, and how are they integrated within the classrooms and the school?  What is the culture around “general education” and “special education” and how are those lines blurred or not blurred?  Unpacking these structures would allow me to authentically address and honor my colleagues’ feelings of overwhelm, but would also create momentum in the direction of my own dream of a school where meaningful, personalized learning is accessible to all.

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I went back to one of my colleagues and asked him to tell me more about his dream of having more academic coaches.  He talked about the Inclusion Program at a neighboring HTH school, a program with fewer coaches than his own.  I suggested that we go to visit that program together.  I shared with him about the notion of the “bright spot” from the book “Switch” by Chip Heath and Dan Heath, who recommend asking the question, “What’s working, and how can we do more of it?” (p 45).  My colleague and I agreed to visit the school and just explore, acting as observers who are keenly tuned-in to everything, without trying to impose any pre-conceived notions upon the experience.  I encouraged my colleague to avoid comparing what we saw to his own program (particularly things like the number of students with IEPs) but simply to observe and absorb.  We spent about an hour exploring, walking through classrooms and hallways, and talking to students and teachers.  At the end of our time we spoke with the Intern Inclusion Specialist and the lead Inclusion Specialist at the school.  The next day, my colleague and I debriefed the experience together, and what surfaced in our conversation was exciting, positive, and energizing.

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Our Debrief Conversation

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1.  Our “Objective” Observations of the Program
-Before and after school tutoring is not open to all.  We observed and heard messages about “Special Ed” funds being for “Special Ed” students.
-Academic coaches are there “primarily” for students with IEPs (a message we heard from the Intern Inclusion Specialist and from a classroom teacher). 
-Both the Intern Inclusion Specialist and lead Inclusion Specialist said they were planning to change their structure to have one academic coach per team (the same “model” as my colleague’s), because they simply “need more coaches, more people on the ground.”
-When asked, “what do you do if a student is failing?” a teacher said, “I stay after school to work with them.”  When asked this same question at my colleague’s program, the teacher said, “I send them to X Block tutoring and after school tutoring.”

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2. Overview of our Analysis and Wonderings
- In our effort to create a full inclusion culture at my colleague’s school, (tutoring is open to all, academic coaches are there to support all), have we created a culture where classroom teachers feel they can “send” a struggling student to someone else?
-  The feeling of needing more coaches is a common sentiment at my colleague’s school and the other school.

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3. Re-Connecting to our Dreams
-Ideal school culture:  Academic Coaches and Inclusion Specialists support all, not some.  There are seamlessly blurred lines between “Special Ed” and “General Ed.”  Classroom teachers assume responsibility and onus for the success of all.
-Having “people on the ground” is important to make the above culture work well.

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At the conclusion of our conversation, we talked about the current structure at my colleague’s school, and he had what I think is a fascinating idea: why not hire interns (who cost the school about as much as an academic coach) who can manage small caseloads, and co-teach with teaching teams?  This structure would require excellent supervision and support, but is incredibly exciting and feels like forward momentum in the direction of both of our dreams!  We decided to investigate this possibility with the Director of the Teacher Credentialing Program, the School’s Director, and other colleagues as our next step.

 

Expanding This Work

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On March 1st, we had our second “whole group” (all HTH Inclusion Specialist) meeting.  At our previous meeting, we decided to have 3-4 whole group meetings each year, along with monthly “regional” meetings to foster our own professional growth through collaboration and sharing of practices.  On March 1st, I shared about my visit with my colleague to another school, and shared how, by examining and “unpacking” a bright spot, an even brighter idea was born.  I proposed that between now and our next Regional meeting (approximately a one month period) every Inclusion Specialist choose a program to visit that they are curious to see in action.  Then, at the Regional Meeting, each Regional Facilitator will lead a de-brief conversation (perhaps a School Visit Protocol) to support people in identifying one small step they can take to implement something that they saw and liked during their visit.

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I feel really, really jazzed about this work.  There is something energizing about grounding a conversation in “bright spots” instead of “challenges” or “areas for growth.”  My visit and debrief with my colleague was positive.  He started in a place of frustration and overwhelm, but our conversation ended in excitement with clear, specific next steps identified.  He came back to my office later that afternoon and told me about his plans to meet with the Director at his site, and I felt a sense of hope and excitement about his engagement with the work and his commitment to its pursuit.  I felt excitement about my own role as a leader who is there to support, push, and guide him.  I have often hesitated this year as a leader – I’ve felt wary of “imposing” or being perceived as forceful.  I am beginning to feel more comfortable and more accepting of myself in this role.  I see now that it’s not about me – that I’ve been asked to take responsibility for supporting our programs, and its this sense of responsibility helps to remove “me” from the equation.  I think it’s possible to support, to guide and to push in a way that feels inclusive and shared, and this is the leadership style I strive to embody.

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The most important element of the next step (to visit another site and debrief with colleagues) is that everyone will latch-on to something different.  The colleague I spoke with is exploring structures more closely aligned to a “co-teaching” model, but that is just one way of approaching “full inclusion.”  My hope is that after their observations, every Inclusion Specialist is able to identify a concrete next step that will strengthen their program and lead them closer to their dreams.  I wondered about just how structured these visits should be.  I see a benefit to having a highly structured visit, yet when my colleague and I visited we were purposefully unstructured, and it led to a novel and exciting idea.  For this reason, I want the visits to be guided by very general questions (such as, “what strikes you?” and “what surprises you?”).  It is important to me that there is no blanket approach to structures within our programs, and that people feel they have the freedom and the support to explore and implement structures that are responsive to the needs of their setting and their unique styles and strengths.  Most importantly, we will need to continually re-examine our structures in the spirit of constantly improving, refining, changing, and cultivating our work.