Finding a "cure " in the public school House

Finding a “cure” in the public school House!

I am a big fan of the recently-ended TV series House. With a masterful touch, actor Hugh Laurie played the brilliant, irascible, arrogant, prank-playing doctor who is known for sweeping in at the last minute with his diagnostic team to save a dying patient with a miracle cure to a complex condition. There is one thing for certain though ― the last thing you wanted to be on that show was the patient.

Why? Because it usually meant that at some point during your 60-minute hospital stay you had to convincingly and realistically pass prodigious quantities of blood through various orifices of your body. Hundreds of emerging young actors can now proudly add to their professional resumes “expert at hemorrhagic vomiting.”

The mystery ailment often was so arcane, elusive, or disguised that they had to treat symptoms without directly attacking the cause. Patients went through every type of test or procedure imaginable; sometimes with life threatening consequences. More than once ― after infusing an exotic pharmaceutical cocktail, conducting intricate open heart/brain surgery, or inducing a claustrophobic incident in the CT scanner ― the medical team found they had misdiagnosed the problem and had to bring out the paddles to revive the patient. Treating a moving target of symptoms had led them down a series of recurring blind alleys. It was a guessing game and the clock was ticking as the patient’s life hung in the balance. They threw solutions at problems hoping one would stick and voila a patient would be cured for another week.

The scripts from House transport readily to the modern era of school reform in the Public School House. Our patient (the public schools) shows dramatic and alarming signs of illness. Our financial temperature has dropped sharply, we’re amputating appendages to save essential core services, and using a plethora of triage techniques to keep public education from flat lining. The prognosis is dire and the condition is deteriorating rapidly. Is there a doctor in the house?

The harsh critics in our House say it’s too late; we’re riding a dead horse on life support. Privateers, born-again educationists, voucheristas, home schoolers, charter advocates, and politicians have started making our funeral arrangements while educational theorists, academics, think tanks, sage retired superintendents, private industry turn-around specialists, and canned reform-in-a-box software/ hardware/ human-ware marketers have gone Code Red in treating our symptoms.

These Public School EMTs (education management theorists) use tell-tale signs like dropout rates, Achievement Gaps, multilingualism, no common core, not enough electives, outdated teaching styles, lack of parental engagement in the learning process, too much or not enough technology, and a litany of other problems to pitch their solution for creating and maintaining a 21^st Century learning environment for a demanding and complex student population. They diagnose a symptom with an absolute conviction that by treating it we can create overall health in the patient.

These reforms may work for a while. Personally, I think we can’t really produce a healthy, life sustaining public education system unless we cure the real cause for our malaise . . . Malnutrition. Each year Americans seem more willing to spend money on Starbuck’s than schoolhouses. The percent of personal income devoted to education has steadily decreased each year over the past few decades. As a society we’re starving our students to death. In some societies that would be considered child abuse. On a national scale it’s educational genocide.

In California, we have been systematically de-funding public education by billions of dollars. I’m all for ending obesity and maintaining a reasonably healthy diet, but in this case we’re forcing our schools into anorexia. California is trying to run 2013 schools with 2000 income levels. If the lifespan of a PreK-12 student is only 14 years, in effect, we have abandoned an entire generation on operating table. Schools can now only offer life support and keep the little patients as comfortable as possible.

Watch any TV ad for new miracle drugs designed to cure a host of Baby Boomer maladies and they all end the same way: a thirty second speed-talked disclaimer that warns if you take this drug it might cure the one symptom you have, but could cause dangerous side-effects (anything from fainting, convulsions and dry mouth to four-hour erections, heart attacks and strokes). Maybe we need to mandate that we cannot impose an educational reform or funding bill on our public schools without a similar disclaimer about their unintended consequences, dangers from overdose, and adverse side effects. On the label of the regulatory prescription bottle we should also caution that resisting tax increases for education can become an addiction that is hard shake.

As communicators we need to be truth tellers. Today, the Health of Public Education sucks. We need people to see that there will be deep and fatal consequences if we keep treating symptoms instead of getting to the root cause that will cure this patient. We have to stop expecting miracle cures and start investing our resources in systemic educational wellness. It will take a long-term commitment and a lot of patience if our patient is going to pull through. But time is of the essence or the patient may die. We need a Dr. House and his team in the Public School House STAT to accurately diagnose our condition and prescribed a cure that doesn’t kill us!

© Copyright 2012 by Thomas K. DeLapp, Communication Resources for Schools

Seeking Sanctuary in Public Schools

Through the ages, during times of trouble and anguish people under stress seek sanctuary. For America’s children today, that place is their public school. Yet headlines in the media once again remind us that this sanctuary is threatened. In the daily ritual of dropping kids off at school, families are laying at the altar of public education their most precious resource, their children; and along with that they invest their highest ideals, values, and hopes for a better future. They expect the great American public school system to serve as a sanctuary where the young are nourished, protected, and revered. They also expect their public schools to offer children sanctuary from an overwhelming and scary world.

What does “sanctuary” mean?  Sanc-tu-a-ry (noun)
A safe haven
. . . for people who are in trouble or being persecuted to find shelter and support
A protective refuge
. . . where an endangered species can be protected from predators or from being destroyed or abused
A “holy” place
. . . of reverence where our core beliefs, legacies, and values are preserved and where we lift ourselves up

The American public school must be adequately supported to fulfill its mandate under all three definitions.

In recent months, I’ve been working with school clients who are grappling with incidents of bullying, child abuse, teen suicide, campus violence, weapons on campus, sexual predators, homelessness, racism, family neglect borne from economic recession, and devastating cuts to vital services like counseling and interventions for troubled youth. All of these colliding at the same time made me appreciate even more that the public school really has become the last best hope for an entire generation of children.  The school is both their sanctuary in troubled times and their cathedral in which we empower them to reach their potential.

This raises two crucial public policy questions around which school communicators can play a vital role in building community dialogue and action:

§ Are we doing everything we can as a society and as educational leaders to empower our public schools to be the sacred refuge that shelters children from the perils and pressures of a complex and threatening world?

§ Since school is the last line of defense for so many at-risk kids why don’t people respect and treat our schools with the degree of reverence they deserve?

All surveys show that the public basically wants three simple things from their public schools: (a) Make them safe and secure learning environments for children, (b) demonstrate continuous improvement in academic achievement for all students, and (c) be cost-effective and efficient in the way we do that. In other words, “Keep kids safe, give them a good education, and spend my tax money wisely.”

Clearly, maintaining safe schools is the highest priority for parents and the public. It trumps academic performance and economic efficiency every time. But when it comes to policy makers and budget setters they have become fixated on increasing test scores, closing achievement gaps, and balancing budgets on dwindling resources.

We are working hard to maintain drug-free and gang-free schools. But in doing so, educators often get sidetracked from confronting the more subtle oppressors . . . a campus culture and climate that can be fraught with tribes, intolerance, indifference, isolation, racism, sexism, harassment, and bullying (by adults, coaches, and students). If school is to be a true sanctuary it must offer protection from all of these and not turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to the signs that something is wrong in the life of a child.

But it costs money, talent, and time to build that type of protective bastion and nourishing culture. It also takes the moral and political will from everyone in the community (parents, students, staff, voters, and community) to make eradicating these subtle oppressors a priority in both word and deed.

The heartfelt thoughts of my good friend and colleague Rick Kaufman always resonate with me as I confront the issue of campus safety. I served on Rick’s communication response team during the tragedy at Columbine High School over a decade ago.  In the wake of the shooting on February 26, 2012 at Chardon High School in Ohio, Rick’s words serve as a poignant and eloquent reminder of how we must stay vigilant to the mental and emotional health of all students:

“We must once again resurrect lost hope, and tend to the emotional and physical scars left in the wake of another school shooting. We will hear the pundits blame the bullies, the parents, the schools (it's always the school's fault), the loss of religion and faith, and the state of the world. Should it not be enough that we find a way to transform violence? I'm afraid the painful images of another ‘Columbine’ will visit us again all too soon.”

Bullying is the cause célèbre these days as we search for answers and struggle to build a supportive school environment. Whether it’s a suicide or a school shooting, people should resist applying sound bite solutions to complex situations. Bullying shouldn’t be used as a knee-jerk explanation or catch-all motive for the sadness and isolation that many children feel.  Adults need to learn to listen to the voices of children. They need to pick up the unspoken cues.

More importantly, adults need to model the behaviors they want children to emulate. When political discourse has descended into school yard name-calling is it any wonder that bullying and name-calling happen in our schoolyards? Have we sunk so far that it is impossible to disagree without being disagreeable?

For example, when a self-absorbed close-minded shock jock like Rush Limbaugh can get away with calling a college student a “slut” and “prostitute” for speaking her mind before a Congressional committee simply because he disagrees with her views, what message does that send to children? When someone in a position of power (in this case multi-megawatts in 250+ media markets) uses that position to ridicule and intimidate someone who is different he is demonstrating the crassest form of bullying.

There is no room for bullying in our sanctuary called school. Likewise, there should be no place in a civilized society for the kind of bombast, bias, and bullying displayed by Limbaugh. Bullying behavior by adults in any forum should not be glorified, discounted or accepted.

A quality education for every child is an article of faith and a core belief in our country that deserves to be practiced with reverence and respect in the “sanctuary” called the public school. To that end, public education can become a “Bully Pulpit” to stand up for civility, tolerance, integrity, and open communication about the needs and problems facing our children and our society.

That’s where school communicators can do their best work: courageously convening the conversation about how we should treat each other. Maybe if we can create an environment of tolerance and respect in schools, adults can start learning from children how to play well with others.

Can I get an “Amen” to that!

© Copyright 2012 by Thomas K. DeLapp

Modern Day Vampires: Politicians & CEOs are Sucking the Life Out of America’s Children

Child Poverty in America
In 2011, you can’t scroll through the TV menu without seeing something to do with vampires or zombies. The living dead it seems are all the rage these days. True Blood, Twilight Saga, Vampire Diaries, Zombieland, The Walking Dead, and myriad other shows dominate both the small and silver screens. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good zombie movie as much as the next person, but lately I’m starting to see a disturbing pattern. It could be life imitating art, or maybe it’s the other way around. The image on the screen is an eerie reflection of what’s actually going on in our society. The clear message to young people since the millennium washed over them ten years ago is that there is a menacing presence out there ready to suck the living daylights out of you. My advice to kids: heed your basic instincts, the threat is real and they are going for your jugular!

I have always liked Jay Leno’s definition of “politics.” Just divide the word – “poli” meaning many and “tics” meaning blood suckers. Now you understand politics. The dual vampires of political gridlock and economic recession are sucking the life out of our children and our schools. During the first decade of the 21st century the children of America have been caught in the vice-like jaws of increasing poverty and decaying educational systems. Schools are being choked to death financially and child poverty is escalating to record levels not seen in over half a century.

I spent some time recently reflecting on how lives have changed for the so-called 9/11 Generation since that tragic day ten years ago when innocence was shattered and security threatened. A report released this week from the Census Bureau puts it into stark perspective. The 2010 economic numbers are in and the U. S. Census Bureau reports there are 46.2 million poor people in America – the largest number in the last 52 years. The data suggest that our children have been a primary casualty as our government waged war on terrorism and Wall Street waged war on the American middle class and poor families.

 Some startling statistics:

• One in three of America’s poor are children
• 22% of all children in the U.S. (over one in five) live in poverty (16.4 million children)
• That’s almost one million more children than last year (over 950,000 kids)
• 7.4 million children in America live in extreme poverty
• More than one in three Black children and one in three Hispanic children are poor
• Children under five years old are suffering the most: one-fourth (5.5 million) come from poverty households (defined as a family of four living on less than $22,000 per year)

It isn’t enough that these poor kids have to battle for their very survival each day, now the sanctuary they called “school” is no longer able to give them the shelter and hope they deserve. In California, we are desperately trying to maintain a 2011 program on a 2000 income level. The politicians and CEOs who pray at the anti-tax Prop. 13 shrine have been systematically draining the lifeblood from public education. The vampires have permanently recalibrated the economic and educational support system for an entire generation. The impact of inaction on behalf of children will resonate for decades to come. The 9/11 Generation has been hit by a pandemic of poverty. We are already seeing the casualties. They will not do as well in school, will have more health and social problems, and will be permanently under-employed.

One of my heroes is Marian Wright Edelman, president of the Children’s Defense Fund. Her life’s work to “Leave No Child Behind” was a passionate call-to-arms long before No Child Left Behind was a glimmer in the government’s eye. In looking at the Census numbers she captures the sense of outrage we should all share. “Shamefully, children are the poorest age group in our country, are getting poorer, and have suffered more than any other age group during this recession and slow recovery. A country that does not stand for and protect its children—our seed corn for the future—does not stand for anything . . . This is a national disgrace.”

People often say that children are our future. I disagree. We are their future by the actions we take and the decisions we make. Children don’t have a voice and they don’t have a vote. They rely on adults to do the right thing. As a society we must get past political gridlock for the sake of our kids. We owe it to the 9/11 Generation to fix our economy, fix our schools, and fix our politics. It’s about time we insisted that our business and political leaders start acting like the grown-ups in the room and learn to “play well with others.” Adults have mortgaged their future and children are paying the price. We need to stop sucking the lifeblood out of our kids.

 

The Power of Stories

“So this duck walks into a bar . . .”

When you hear a phrase like this, you know instinctively that a joke or story is heading your way. It could be a hysterical one that makes your drink come out of your nose from laughing so hard or it could rely on a corny pun that makes you groan and shake your head.

Why do so many stories or jokes begin with someone walking into a bar? It’s probably because the pub, saloon, or tavern in a community has always been a focal point for interpersonal communication. The bar was the original chat room where stories were the stock in trade and they were “shared” and “liked” before there was an Internet. Good story-telling doesn’t always fit into the cadence of 21st Century social media communication. Now, thin-sliced communication comes at you at the speed of light while a compelling story takes time to unravel, usually over a cold beer.

I have known some great story tellers in my life. Most came from a generation before there was Twitter or Facebook or YouTube. They came of age in a simpler time before we tried to convey our stories in 140 characters or less. These 20th Century raconteurs relied on the power of verbal stories, told and re-told to share their experiences and reflections on the ups and downs of life.

My family tree is rife with a long line of fascinating story tellers (BS artists if you will). Three come to mind immediately: my late father-in-law Donald Parker and my two uncles – Bill and Don. It may come as no surprise that they all were sailors who served on ships in wars dating back to WWII, Korea or Vietnam. As an impressionable young man, I can remember shooting the breeze with each of them for hours on end as they regaled me with stories that to this day still make me laugh. Their stories are a reflection of them, their times, and their lives.

We don’t remember facts and figures, but we do remember the stories that have touched our lives. We remember stories because they can be riveting, funny, poignant, and chock full of common sense and homespun wisdom. Information by itself is not compelling, but add to the facts the visual image of the case study or anecdote and data can come to life. A picture is definitely worth a thousand words, but a story is worth a 1,000 pictures because it embeds the message with mental images as we personally relate to the story and to the story teller.

As public relations professionals our job is to translate numbers into words. We decipher financial or assessment hieroglyphics into understandable and meaningful prose. But the story teller takes that to a higher level. He or she paints a vivid picture of what the prose means and how it makes us feel. They put us into the picture emotionally and intellectually.

My late friend Charlie Binderup was a masterful story teller. Charlie was superintendent in a very small school district in Northern California. He often joked with pride that the Tulelake Basin schools had the first wood burning fax machine. He also had the same delivery as the veterans mentioned above. He would reel you into the tale with an “aw shucks” style so you couldn’t be quite sure if he was telling the truth or making the whole thing up. But it didn’t matter because the story was so endearing or funny. Great story tellers also have a shared affinity for laughing along with their own jokes and reminiscences. They often crack themselves up as the words come out. I’m convinced that the best part of story-telling is when you get caught up in the telling and it reminds you all over again of how you felt the first time you heard it or experienced it.

[By the way; the punch line to the duck walking into the bar joke is: So the duck says, “I can’t take a job like that . . . I’m an engineer!”]

One of the best things about attending the annual seminar of the National School Public Relations Association (NSPRA) each summer is that I get to swap stories with some of the best BS artists in the country. Guys like Steve Knagg and Jim Cummings are keeping the fine art of story-telling alive and well.

Their tall tales use the same formula for success: their reflections are based in reality, the events are plausible but maybe not believable, just a hint of mischief is added like seasoning, and they linger with a slight pause before delivering the punch line with a wry smile and a laugh as they crack themselves up telling it. They enjoy the story as much as you do. Stories are infectious.

We have some very powerful stories in public education. Everyday miracles, snapshots of success, touching tributes to the human spirit, and the indisputable evidence that education is the cornerstone of our society and the rock upon which our freedom and democracy are built. Now, that is a story worth telling!

The public desperately wants to still believe in public education. So my advice is to be more than a public information officer; be a public story teller. Be the chronicler and conveyor of the story of your schools. Story telling is one of the oldest and most effective teaching tools. Use your arsenal of social media and digital tools to point people to the stories of success and triumph in your classrooms, playgrounds, and school buses. Make the complexity of teaching and learning come to life by adding a few choice stories to your communication repertoire. Great stories make for memorable messages.

“So this little boy walks into school one day . . .”

Got a bad soloist? Get a bigger choir!

This may surprise a few of you, but in my early years I actually was a choirboy. At the awkward age of 12 I was the sole member of the Baritone Section in the youth choir at Westchester Presbyterian Church. What can I say, my voice dropped early and kept going south all through my teens. I realized very quickly that if I was flat or sharp everyone in the congregation would know it. God, how I resented all those wimpy tenors who could mask their vocal miscues within a larger group! That lesson stuck with me like scripture: If you don’t want to hear a solo off-key voice you need to surround it with plenty of better singers.

The reverse is also true, if all you hear is the bad soloist, you begin to think the entire choir stinks! My problem is that sometimes our most important debates are shaped by only a few loud angry voices with their own insistent agendas. Being the loudest voice in the room — this seems to be the hallmark of societal discourse these days.

Whether it’s picketing teachers, angry parents resisting school closures, catcalls in Congress, venomous talk show terrorists, edgy newspaper reporters, or biased bloggers they all seem to believe that acrimonious volume will carry the day. They create a cacophony of negativity and a growing sense that to disagree in the 21st Century we have to be disagreeable. The louder, the better.

There has never been a time that I can recall when we had so many controversial, highly-charged emotional issues on our plate in the public schools. The state is systematically de-investing in public education. We are being asked to balance a 2010 budget on a 2005 income. That formula just doesn’t add up and relationships in the educational community are showing the stress and strain. Frustration, scapegoating, blame-shifting, and turf wars abound as we deal with fewer resources to handle mounting problems.

Remember this:

“When the pie gets smaller, the first things to go are the table manners! In this rollercoaster economy, people are wrestling over the table scraps in a public food fight.”

I enjoy a robust public policy debate as much as the next guy, but geez, where has common decency, civility and reasoned debate gone? Out the window I’m afraid. In recent months, I’ve brushed up against some pretty dogmatic, unethical, self-righteous soap-boxers with this unflinching attitude -

“If the facts of a situation don’t fit my preconceptions, I’ll reject them out of hand and condemn the person who points them out to me!”

This same group of hostile aggressive types is willing to jump to conclusions based on only a shred of evidence, feel some perceived slight or hidden agenda at the drop of a hat, and amplify the noise to drown out those who disagree. Nobody wants to accept the reality check that we can no longer conduct business as usual. Nobody wants to give in. Nobody wants to play well with others.

To be fair, many entities of government (including public schools) have spawned and inflamed this attitude because we have not been transparent, responsive or engaging enough in the past. Is it any surprise when people don’t feel heard that they yell a little louder?

Here are some ways to “put a sock in it” with a bad soloist:

1. Make sure you’re singing on key yourself

When you say something publicly have your facts straight, give people straight talk, and deliver your message clearly and pervasively. Model the vocal chops you expect in others.

2. Sing in your own choir loft, not theirs

Never react in a war of words on a critical blog or in the letters-to-the-editor columns because all you do is drive attention to those forums. Never pick a fight with a man who buys his ink by the barrel or his Internet presence in gigabytes because they will always have the last word. Make them irrelevant by shifting the debate onto venues that you can control like your own web site, Op Ed pieces, or district publications.

3. Set the standard for what sounds right

Play to your home field advantage by framing the conversation about key issues. Define the themes, key messages, and factual foundation that everyone works from. Be seen as the definitive resource on the key issues that affect your organization. Don’t just react to what others say first; be the lead singer in the debate.

4. Create an ensemble of positive voices singing your praises

You’re known by the company you keep. Enlist community opinion leaders or people with unique and relevant views to promote a more balanced discussion. Give people talking points so they practice message discipline on your behalf. We should all be singing off the same song sheet. Think of yourself as the conductor or choir director orchestrating a community of voices on a topic.

5. Give them voice lessons, if they’ll listen

Sometimes bad singer just doesn’t have the right sheet music and that’s why they’re making it up as they go along. This could be a teachable moment to transform a critic into a supporter. Don’t presume they can’t change their tune because if you do they probably won’t.

We spend 90% of our time in school administration dealing with the 10% of our stakeholders who disagree with us or have problems with the way we do things. In these troubled times we need everyone to lend their voice to our cause. If they do, maybe we can drown out the negativists and naysayers that seem to relish the spotlight and attack the integrity of public education. Public education has a song worth singing.

All together now . . . Halleluiah!