The makings of a good school

“My kids go to a good school.”

What parents don’t want to be able to say this about the bricks and mortar location where they entrust their offspring for seven hours a day, 180 days a year, again and again?

And for that matter, every teacher worth his or her salt wants to be able to say with some conviction, “Yeah, I work in a good school.” This word “good,” when used in the context of quality, holds so much meaning. It brings us to the question, “What is a Good School?”

I have been in this game in various capacities since the early 1970s. I’ve had the good fortune to have taught in institutions for developmentally disabled people, in a juvenile court learning environment and most recently in the traditional public school. I’ve seen a lot, heard a lot and have lived to tell about it. But the observations that follow are not exclusively my own. Nor do I claim to have any expertise in this field. Everyone who’s ever worked in a school or been to a school (and that pretty much covers most of us) has his or her own idea of what makes a good school.

So, in no particular order, here is what I have come to believe.

A Good School has clear and positive leadership.In any organization, having a truly great leader is a rare treat. Education is no exception. In our world, it’s the principal and her assistants who set the tone and direction for any school year. Almost without exception, most principals were once toiling in the classroom, and for one reason or another, they’ve earned their papers and credentials and moved into the front office. The good ones share a few common traits. First and foremost, they are fair and honest with their staff. Nothing ruins a building’s climate like a boss who can’t be trusted. Administrators also need to remember where they came from, especially when expecting the teachers to take on one more “new and innovative program that is taking the country by storm.”

They absolutely positively must be visible at all school events. The guy who hides behind his secretary is the guy who has lost his school.

I’ve had bosses for whom I’d run through the gym divider and others for whom I wouldn’t cross the parking lot. Believe me—it’s a lot easier on those days when you just don’t feel like rolling out of the sack to make the push if you work for the likes of the former.

There are the unofficial leaders in a good school as well. We see him in the coach who makes about 37 cents per hour but will stay behind to help the kid who just can’t get that jump shot down. We find her in the art teacher who leads the school in a fundraising drive to provide water to villages in in war-torn Africa.

A Good School must have these leaders, formal and informal. They, together, produce the positive culture of an organization whose sole reason for existence is to build new generations.

A Good School must be safe.
In our world, we cannot place too high a value on the physical and emotional well-being of our kids. Sure, all schools must have policies and procedures for safety measures. And more and more of them are keeping their doors locked. But the Good School employees practice being safe and keep that in mind day to day.

As a teacher, I know I appreciate somebody looking out for me.

A corollary of this safety issue goes hand in hand with the previous discussion of administrators. “You can’t let the inmates run the asylum” is a commonly heard dictum, and never is it more true than in a school. We are entrusted with all manner of individuals and given the law of averages, not all of them are sugar and spice. A Good School deals fairly and consistently with those who choose not to play the game by the rules. There are few things worse for a teacher’s morale than no one “having your back” when it comes to discipline.

A Good School is clean.
Especially the bathrooms. For that, give credit to the unsung heroes of the hallways, the custodians. They fight the never-ending battle for truth, justice and a litter-free environment against insurmountable odds. Whether it be a brand-spanking new facility, or one that seemingly is being held together with duct tape and a prayer, a person can sure tell a lot about a place by how it looks.

A Good School values its “newbies.”
A lot has been written about how our colleges train students for four years and then our profession loses 50 percent of them within the first five years of their careers. Some studies indicate that some 30 percent of those who leave find their way back to education. The job has that strong a pull. However, the Good School looks out for its “new kids on the hallway.” This goes beyond a district’s formal mentoring or academy programs. It can be as simple as inviting the new staff members to sit with you at lunch, or encouraging them to sponsor a club, or just being there to listen as they wonder if they can make it through the toughest year of their lives. Our profession needs this infusion of youth and excitement, and a Good School recognizes this.

A Good School values its “elders.”
Being one, I can relate. We old folks have been there and done that, year after year, and despite less hair or a slower pace going down to the teachers’ lounge, we have something valuable to share about how to survive in our native land. And with that comes a responsibility for the veteran to avoid being jaded. Reality is one thing, but pessimism never helped a person just starting out in his or her chosen field. A school that can blend its old with its new is all the stronger in the struggle. We must work together. Let’s face it—every day we come to work, we are vastly outnumbered.

A Good School doesn’t lose sight of the forest for all the trees of statistics, state test scores, walk-through visits by yet another agency, and surveys and assessments.
Of course, our business of imparting knowledge, sound curriculum and methods is a given. However, none other than Albert Einstein said, “Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.” Our product is, for the most part, invisible. One social studies teacher I know said very simply, “I don’t teach history; I teach the future.” I’ve also heard, “All children are gifted; some of them just open their presents later than others.”

There is the story of the high school student who was what could be called a loner. One day, he and a teacher passed in the hallway. No one was there but these two. The boy happened to look up, and the teacher stopped, smiled and said “Good morning. How are you today?” He didn’t respond, and they continued on their separate ways.

A year later, they met again. The boy was working at a grocery store, gathering carts, and stopped the teacher in the store.

“You probably don’t remember me,” he said,“but you know last year when you said “good morning” to me in the hall way? Well, I was going to kill myself that night.”

The teacher was speechless. The boy smiled warmly. “As you can see, I didn’t.” He paused. “Thanks, Mrs. Tanner.”

So as former St. Louis Cardinal pitcher Joaquin Andujar said, when asked to describe baseball in one word, “Youneverknow.” You really never know what one word can do to change a life. And we as teachers have so many opportunities to say that one word, day after day.

A Good School has tons of Mrs. Tanners.

If all the above comes together, you just might have a Good School. If you work in one, stay as long as they let you. If you don’t, then find one and get in there as fast as possible.

by Tom Anselm
Ferguson-Florissant NEA

sb, summer '09