Change requires leaders to sift through many complex and contradictory narratives.
During vacation this summer, I read Mary Beard’s book about the ancient Roman Empire, SPQR. I’ve always loved history, but I didn’t want to wade through six volumes of Edward Gibbons’ History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire to learn about Romulus and Remus, Julius Caesar, and why they wore togas. Beard’s book didn’t disappoint. She writes in an accessible style and tells compelling stories of how Rome came to be. But even more compelling is her discussion of how those stories have been interpreted by subsequent generations. Sure, it’s interesting to learn how and why Brutus and his gang stabbed Caesar, for instance. But, to Beard, what really matters are the ways in which historians, playwrights, politicians, and pundits have retold such stories over the last 2,000 years, reframing them over and over again to suit their own needs.
This summer, I also read about the latest U.S. Census data, which show that the United States is becoming much more diverse than ever before — or, rather, I read about the competing interpretations of the data. To educators, it’s not exactly surprising to hear that student populations have been changing in recent years. (I imagine teachers shrugging their shoulders and muttering, “Yeah, tell me something I didn’t know.”) But newspaper journalists and cable TV pundits have treated this as breaking news, prompting them to wring their hands over what these dramatic changes mean for our society. Again, while the facts are important, what really matters is how people interpret them.
Grappling with change
For years, in ways large and small, many white parents with kids in the public schools have interpreted the changing face of America as a threat to their status and power. Thus, we’ve seen intense resistance to educators’ attempts to, for example, ensure that history classes include multiple perspectives, or their efforts to address racial disparities in access to gifted and talented programs. Such resistance is to be expected during times of transition.
As William Bridges discusses in one of my favorite books, Managing Transitions, leaders need to understand that people typically experience change in three phases: (1) Ending, Losing, Letting Go; (2) The Neutral Zone, and (3) The New Beginning. During the first phase, people feel a sense of loss, which may lead them to resist anything new. In the second phase, people begin to wrap their heads around the new state of being, but they aren’t necessarily sure what to do next. By phase three, people have a new energy and sense of purpose and are ready to commit to the change. None of this is linear; some people never get out of phase one or two, while others are quick to jump into phase three.
Resistance is to be expected during times of transition.
The most effective leaders understand these dynamics and are able to meet people where they are, guiding those who are ready for the New Beginning through whatever they need to do to enact that future, recognizing those who will never move on from the old ways, and listening to those who are open but still struggling with what the change will mean. It takes some people time to come to terms with a new situation or set of ideas, and their reluctance and resistance can present opportunities for a leader to understand how to strengthen and refine their proposed changes.
For years, as enrollments across the country have become more and more diverse, many school system leaders have become painfully aware that their schools tend to be much better at serving white students than students of color. In turn, many of those leaders have sought to incorporate an equity agenda into their district’s strategy, including efforts to build stronger relationships with local parents and communities; set clear academic, pedagogical, and behavioral standards; encourage professional learning about students’ academic and social-emotional needs; promote cultural competency among teachers and staff; diversify the profession at all levels; open access to higher-level courses and eliminate lower-level ones, and ensure curriculum and materials reflect the diversity of the community.
Regardless of which strategies leaders pursue, they will have to consider how to deal with the inevitable resistance. And this is where storytelling comes in. I believe the best way to manage resistance is to listen hard to the stories being told, because understanding how the community interprets what is happening provides insights into the fears that people have of embracing a New Beginning.
The power of story
I learned from Mary Beard that the word wolf was, in the 8th century BCE, similar to the word prostitute. So, it’s quite possible that Romulus and Remus weren’t raised by wolves, as the ancient Romans claimed, but had a much more prosaic childhood. Yet, it’s not hard to see why the myth of twins suckling a she-wolf became integral to the story of Rome’s founding. I can understand why Romans would rather be part of a new regime borne from the magical upbringing of god-like twins who had to battle each other for righteous supremacy than to align themselves with a prostitute’s son who stabbed his brother in the back. So, too, in school systems and communities, we share the stories that support our worldview and undermine the views of others.
Take, for example, the effort to ensure that all students become “math literate” and pass Algebra I by the 8th grade — a cause that the MacArthur “genius award”-winner Bob Moses (who died just a few months ago) long championed as a civil rights issue. As Moses pointed out, Algebra I tends to be a gatekeeper course, serving as a prerequisite for studying advanced math and science in high school and college. Historically, our public schools have tended to steer Black and brown kids into low-level math courses in the elementary and middle grades, leaving them unprepared for algebra and excluding them from the higher-level classes that follow it. So, as Moses saw it, improving early math instruction for all kids is a story about fairness and opportunity.
But for many educators, tracking has always been integral to the stories they tell about their own excellence. Yes, their elementary school offers different levels of math instruction, they’ll acknowledge, and yes, they allow only some students into the track that leads to Algebra I by 8th grade. But that’s a sign of the school’s high standards, they’ll say, pointing to the achievements of those few students who go on to study physics and calculus in high school. If disproportionate numbers of those students happen to be white and Asian-American, then so be it, they’ll argue. And if critics call on them to level the playing field by eliminating low-level classes and adopting a curriculum that puts all students on track for advanced math and science, the resistance can be intense. “If you lower our standards and mix the best and brightest students in with everybody else, you’ll rob them of the opportunity to excel,” they’ll cry. “And remember what a disaster it turned out to be the last time we tried to change the curriculum,” they’ll add, dredging up old stories about reforms that failed.
For system leaders, the challenge is to sift through such competing narratives, keeping in mind that each one feels true to the people sharing them. If teachers seem resistant, it may be tempting to assume they’re simply unwilling to work harder, or to change their classroom practices, or to rethink their biases toward Black and brown students. But when those teachers tell and retell stories about past failures to detrack the curriculum, they may also be revealing their legitimate fears — fears about whether they’re capable of teaching mathematics in a whole new way, whether they’ll get the support they need to do so effectively, or whether the new curriculum might be an awful one, causing harm to their students.
Similarly, system leaders might assume that parents oppose change because they feel entitled, or because they believe their children to be smarter than others and more worthy of being chosen for the advanced track. But here, too, the truth tends to be more complicated than that. Parents have likely heard stories about how difficult it will be for their kids to get into a good college and make a decent living, and they may be right to see advanced mathematics as a differentiator. If every child now has access to higher-level math courses, they’ll wonder, how will their child stand out? Yes, some parents no doubt hold racist views of other people’s children. But when parents resist change, it’s probably not because they think schools should limit opportunities for students of color. More likely, they’re focused on the story of the future they’ve projected for their own child.
Leaders tell stories to inspire people to embrace a new way of doing things in school — what Bridges calls a New Beginning. That’s an essential part of the job. So, too, is listening carefully to suspicious, angry, and resistant teachers, staff, parents, community leaders, and local officials. Some of them may be so fearful and resistant that they will never be willing to let go of how the schools have always operated. But others — those in the Neutral Zone — will be genuinely struggling to wrap their minds around what comes next. By hearing what they have to say and understanding why they remain so hesitant, equity-minded leaders stand a much better chance of persuading them to come along.
This article appears in the October 2021 issue of Kappan, Vol, 103, No. 2.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joshua P. Starr
Joshua P. Starr is the managing partner at the International Center for Leadership in Education, a division of HMH, based in Boston, MA. He is the author of Equity-based Leadership: Leveraging Complexity to Transform School Systems.
