Seeing the Brilliance in Children

I have come to realize that school administrators and teachers are actually diamond cutters. Recently, in an academy workshop for aspiring superintendents, I posed my usual question as we explored marketing, branding, and communication concepts: “Why should I enroll my child in your schools?” One answer I got back was unexpected, and absolutely brilliant.

Most administrators usually give me standard statements about safety, rigor, test scores, accountability, and quality teaching. However, one very dedicated and creative principal from San Francisco USD simply said, “We believe all of our students are brilliant!”

As I mulled this over you could almost see a cartoon light bulb go off over my head. He was creating a culture in his school focused on the amazing concept that his students shine with inner star-like qualities while at the same time being capable of achieving to high levels. He explained that his job as a leader was to bring out both facets of brilliance in every child. I clearly saw that he was an educational diamond cutter. What a terrific brand for his school. Absolutely brilliant!

The word “diamond” comes from the Ancient Greek word for “unbreakable.” They say diamonds are forever; they last because they are forged from carbon placed under tremendous pressure deep in the Earth. From the most extraordinary conditions and circumstances one of the strongest elements on the planet is produced.

There is no doubt that our children are growing up in perilous times in a world filled with pressure, uncertainty, and a host of daunting problems. Since we can now simulate the diamond-making process in the laboratory, shouldn’t we be able to do the same in America’s classrooms?  Each day, our “little lumps of coal” and the educators that serve them are put to the test under tremendous pressure. If we can transform students into diamonds then their skills will last a lifetime. We will make them “unbreakable” so they can pass on their brilliance to make a better society for generations to come.

We judge the quality of a diamond by its four C’s. While high grades of color, clarity, and carat weight contribute to a diamond's appeal, it's the cut that determines the symmetry of the stone's facets, its overall proportions, and its ability to reflect light. An expertly cut diamond will achieve high levels of brilliance, sparkle, and durability. Even if a diamond is graded well in other areas, a poor cut can result in a dull, muted effect. The “cut” is what adds value to an otherwise lifeless piece of crystal. Our “cut” in public education is quality teaching and quality leading.

Do the educators and leaders in your schools practice and perfect their craft to make sure that each facet of a student’s education is flawless? As they create the many faces of a child’s education are they bringing out the inner fire and innate brilliance that every child brings to school each day?

We know that one slip by the cutter can ruin a diamond. It takes skill, patience, and experience to unlock the inner brilliance in a gemstone so it reflects, refracts and disperses illuminating light with a dazzling sparkle. Teaching, like diamond cutting, is a work of art. When done well, it creates timeless beauty. As communicators our privilege is to shine the light so the diamonds (even in the rough sometimes) can show their brilliance for everyone to see, admire and value.

Zach's True Test of Character

Zach got his haircut the other day, and the world is a better place for it.

In public education we have come to appreciate that the culture in our schools contributes to a positive learning experience almost as much as the quality of instruction. In recent years we have devoted considerable attention to building character in children with moral precepts like being trustworthy, dependable, and respectful as we encourage them to make good ethical choices about their behavior. But character is only an abstract concept unless it is tested. Believing you have character is easy when, well, it’s convenient. Proving you actually have character can only happen when you have to take responsibility for your actions and endure the implications and repercussions of your decision.

An excellent case in point is my great nephew Zachary Williamson. Zach is pretty amazing. He has all of the boundless energy and enthusiasm of any ten year old boy. Each day for him is an expedition into his own fascinating world of exploration full of Legos, monster trucks, Cub Scouts, World Wrestling Federation, class projects, inventions, sports, and superheroes. Like all young boys he is at times a confusing and confounding jumble of anachronisms, ambitions, and antics. As the complexity of the world opens up to him he can be as erratic as a butterfly as he flits from one passionate endeavor to another. Zach is a character all right; just being around him makes you smile. But it isn’t that Zach is a character, it’s that he demonstrates character at such an early age that is truly remarkable.

When he was just eight years old, Zach made a decision to grow his hair out long and eventually donate it to Locks of Love, the organization that supplies wigs to children dealing with cancer and the devastating effects of chemotherapy. Each lock had to be at least ten inches long which meant that this was not going to be a simple act of charity like dropping a coin into a basket or spending a day cleaning up the shoulder of a highway. Zach’s decision was a personal commitment that was going to be ongoing. It was an act of compassion for a person he would never know. Zach’s test of character was definitely not going to be easy, and along the way he would have to resist the temptation to abandon his decision when it became inconvenient, uncomfortable, or embarrassing. This was his decision alone and in the ensuing two years Zach passed the test of character with flying colors. He drew comfort, encouragement, and support from his parents, sisters and friends who helped him find true north on his moral compass as the days turned into months and years.

As Zach began to grow his hair, he started to get teased at school, but he endured. After the first year, he was frequently mistaken for a girl, but he endured. His principal finally told the student body about Zach’s quest to grow his hair long enough to donate and the teasing stopped. When he changed to a new school, he wore a T-shirt proclaiming, “I’m a Dude! Growing it for Locks of Love” to pre-empt the taunts. The toughest challenges came when he was out in public as insensitive or unthinking adults told him to get out of the Men’s Restroom or called him “Sweetie.” But Zach endured. When the going got tough, Zach stayed true to his decision and stood his ground with the inner strength of a Spartan. A model of courage and commitment that many adults could not have mustered.

One side benefit of his flowing locks was that he was able to pull off a pretty convincing look at Halloween as the superhero Thor. Most little boys fantasize about their favorite super power: being able to fly, invisibility, or super strength. My little superhero Zach found his super power . . . inside of himself. His super power is his character with a heavy dose of compassion, conviction and courage. I can’t wait to see how he uses these super powers on his continuing journey to manhood.

On the day he got his haircut, Zach triumphantly proclaimed, “I feel like a boy again.” Not so my little superhero, you should feel like a man because you have given us a powerful reality check on the true test of character.

Plan in Professional Pit Stops

Call me dense, but I could never quite understand the allure of NASCAR. To me it seemed a lot like driving down Interstate 5 from Sacramento to Los Angeles: simply put your foot to the floor and get there as fast as you can. Sure, just like Kyle Busch and Tony Stewart you sometimes need mad driving skills to weave in and out of traffic on I-5 to avoid those “pack drivers” huddled together bumper to bumper at 80 mph or to sidestep a car crash in the making. But other than that, to me stock car racing always seemed more about the noise, speed, a blatant display of machismo, and beer. I thought the NASCAR formula for victory was pretty simple: fast car + great driver = winning.

Then I came across an article describing something I hadn’t realized: pit stop strategy.

That recalibrated my thinking. As a kid, my carefully crafted definition of a pit stop came from long road trips in the family station wagon. It was synonymous with taking a pee. It was a sprint race to the bathroom by five squirrely brothers. The toilet seat was our winners circle and the mad dash as we bolted from the car had all the simplicity and noise of drag racing. It was all or nothing. Flat out - get to the restroom first (or maybe second) or end up doing that wiggly little kid dance holding your private parts in line desperately waiting for the flushing sound as you moved up in the queue. There was no strategy involved. Put the pedal to the metal or you’ll wet your pants!

On the race track, however, strategy may be everything. Often the difference between the checkered flag and eating someone’s exhaust is how efficiently and strategically you execute a pit strategy.

Wikipedia provided more insight in the value of pit stops:

“By making pit stops cars can carry less fuel, and therefore be lighter and faster, and use softer tires that wear faster but provide more grip. Teams usually plan for each of their cars to pit following a planned schedule, the number of stops determined by the fuel capacity of the car, tire lifespan, and tradeoff of time lost in the pits versus how much time may be gained on the race track through the benefits of pit stops. Choosing the optimum pit strategy of how many stops to make and when to make them is crucial in having a successful race. It is also important for teams to take competitors' strategies into account when planning pit stops, to avoid being "held up" behind other cars. An unscheduled or extended stop, such as for a repair, can be very costly for a driver's chance of success, because while the car is stopped for service, cars remaining on the track can rapidly gain distance on the stopped car.”

Then I went to NASCAR.com and read some comments from driver Carl Edwards in an online article on by Mark Aumann. What's happened, according to Edwards, is that pit strategy can negate any advantage a faster car may have on the track. "You will not win these races repeatedly if you don't have the right calls on the pit box," Edwards said. Aumann concluded: “Winning the championship requires a certain level of consistency. . . and the key, in his (Edwards) opinion, is walking that delicate balance of knowing when to be aggressive and when to be cautious.”

So, to win the race you don’t just drive until you run out of gas, burn up your pistons, and blow out your tires? I guess not. As school communicators, I think we can learn a lot from race car drivers as we Race to the Top. Obviously, we need to build in a Professional Pit Stop Strategy into our careers so we don’t sputter along running on fumes or actually burn out.

Here are a few of my perceptions about effective Professional Pit Stop Strategies:

Be your own pace car
Schools have only been in session for a few weeks and if you’re already tired and your gas is running low you are in trouble. You won’t be able to finish the race to June. And, when it really counts in a crisis or high profile, intricate situation you may not have the fuel in your tank to stay on track. Maintain a consistent pace in your job that enables you to gain ground steadily.

Take a personal retreat so you can advance
We create communication plans and district plans, but we rarely have a personal professional plan to guide our work. Twice a year, take yourself on a one-day personal/professional retreat (maybe with your favorite beverage, a friend/mentor, and a notepad). Create a plan for you. Know where you want to go, why you want to get there, the road map for reaching the destination, how long it’s going to take, and how you’ll know when you’ve arrived. It isn’t about doing things right, if you’re not doing the right things!

Know when to say “enough”
Adding a lot of “other duties as assigned” like cord wood in the work pile on your desk doesn’t make you indispensable, it makes you overworked. Be thoughtful about fitting requests into your schedule. Are they true priorities that should trump what you already have to do? Watch for the “dump trucks” on your professional speedway that drop off their problems at your desk instead of solving them on their own. Making marginal progress across a broad front of tasks and assignments won’t be satisfying or memorable. Get things done, but remember you are never going to be caught up.

Top off your own gas tank periodically
It’s important to keep your professional tires balanced, front end aligned, and engine tuned up. Maintaining the right balance between a healthy lifestyle, family, spiritual needs, intellectual pursuits, and professional networking will keep you psychologically sane and physically sound. Find those turnoffs in the rat race that can be “filling stations” to keep you moving forward.

Look out the windshield, not the rear view mirror
Learn to put the past behind you. Learn from mistakes, but don’t dwell on them. Build a proven track record and a solid body of accomplishment, but don’t sit on your laurels. There will always be another race and people are counting on you to be up for it.

Assemble a good pit crew
At a NASCAR race, the average pit stop takes just 15 seconds to change four tires, fill the tank, and check the engine. In that time your competition can be a quarter mile down the road. If you’ve ever watched a pit crew in slow motion it’s like sophisticated choreography as a team of specialists works together in a synchronized dance. You cannot do your job without help, so surround yourself with a great pit crew of associates, advisors, resources and networks that enable you to be the best driver you can be. Teamwork is a winning combination.

In life, and in your career, more pit stops along the way can make the journey much more enjoyable. In hindsight, I often wish my Dad had executed a better pit strategy during those long road trips. We could have traveled with a lot less fuel in our tanks.

I’m still wondering why the NASCAR drivers don’t have to take a pit stop to pee during a 400-mile race? Maybe they just do the wiggly dance and ask their crew chief . . . Are we there yet?

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!

Total Quality Communication to Unlock the Communicator(s) Inside

We can learn a lot in school communications from the concept of Total Quality Management. Sweating the small stuff was all the rage as part of the TQM movement a few decades ago. The basic theory was that if you did minute details well, the total experience or product would be excellent. Now sweating the small stuff is somewhat passé as we want to make everyone a “big picture” person. However, too often our failure to communicate at the individual employee level is the small stuff that trips us up.

When all is said and done, most of the thorniest problems I’ve encountered in my 35-year career in public school PR occurred because of poor communication. That isn’t to diminish the tragic impact of the school shootings, earthquakes, bus accidents, and other biblical acts of God and Mother Nature that I’ve had to deal with. They take their toll and leave deep scars for sure. But many of the high profile conflicts and controversies that have become the all-too-prevalent hallmark of public education policy setting and operations usually stem from a breakdown in communication.

Drilling down to the lowest levels in an organization, poor communication is often the root of our problems and the reason for our undoing. Our education “system” somehow develops a reputation for bad communication, but most of the people in the system are left blameless. How can that be? Systems don’t communicate, people do!

Rigid insistence on ideology, pedagogy, pathology, terminology and all the other “ologies” gets in the way of honest respectful two-way communication. It can strip employees, parents, community activists, and interest groups of their ability to listen strategically and openly to other viewpoints. Just reference the sour grapes, venomous backlash to the federal health care legislation, or the labor union taking a vote of no confidence in a superintendent just because they can’t get their way at the bargaining table, or the office staff sandbagging and demonizing a manager who’s trying to change procedures and assignments?

Why is it that we tolerate and revert to being so disagreeable just because we disagree? Because people are not held accountable for their lousy communication practices! And, people think they know how to communicate well and they often don’t!

Two observations that illustrate this point:

Everyone is an expert on what we do
For some reason, conventional wisdom maintains that everyone springs from the womb fully capable and equipped to communicate verbally, non-verbally, and in writing. That simply is not the case. Some of the worst communicators I’ve brushed up against truly believe they communicate quite well. For example, ever had someone look at you and say, “What’s wrong?” You think you’re fine, but your body language is screaming that you’re not! Quality communication is part science, a dash of art, with whole lot of experience and technique thrown in. Quality communication is a learned skill, not an innate attribute in every individual.

The impact on school communication professionals of this misplaced belief is that everyone thinks they can do our job (maybe even better than us). For example, ever send out a newsletter to a committee for review and comment? You’ll quickly find that while most actors really want to be directors, most educators desperately want to be editors. They “grade” our work as if they are the premier experts and sometimes their edits are wrong!

Communication always seems to be somebody else’s responsibility or only one person’s responsibility
Typically in the communication audits I conduct for school districts people complain that the system doesn’t communicate to them. They never admit that they, in fact, are the system and they have some culpability if the “system” fails to communicate. About 85 cents out of every educational dollar these days is spent on a human being. Employees complain that problems stem from “You didn’t communicate well with me!” Rarely do they admit, “I didn’t take the time to read the materials you sent, listen to your voice mail, read my emails thoroughly, or pay attention in the meeting!”

If a school district is wise enough to employ a professional chief communicator then all too often “communication” becomes their job alone and others feel entitled to abrogate and delegate any personal accountability or responsibility for communicating about what they are doing. “Oh, that’s not my job, that’s hers.” It is an easy out to simply sweep all of the organization’s communication chores into a stinking pile and leave it at the office door of the school PR person.

Here are some suggestions to develop a communicating culture in your schools:

(1) Build communication into decision-making
Do you have meetings? Sure you do; maybe even too many meetings. How about this: require that before you move on to the next agenda item in each meeting you have the people in the room spend five minutes answering this question:

“How are we going to communicate about what we just decided or discussed?”

It’s not enough to make decisions if people don’t know about them. Who better to talk about how best to reach stakeholders with the subject matter than the people in the room discussing that subject matter? That’s a communication tool that doesn’t cost a dime to implement, but it can yield powerful results.

(2) Evaluate and reward communication performance
Acceptable communication skills should be a line item in every employee’s written job description. We should evaluate employees not just on their ability to do their job, but on how well they communicate while they’re doing their job.

(3) Model the behaviors and values we expect in others
Media guru Roger Ailes once advised Ronald Reagan, “Remember Mr. President, you are the message.” Employees inside our public schools can be our best and worst messengers because they transmit messages about our competency as an organization to serve people, solve problems, and deliver a quality educational product. Leaders can unlock the communication potential within their organizations if they have a tireless insistence on quality communication, interaction and relationships at every level by every individual — especially in themselves!

(4) When you have a terrible soloist, get a bigger choir!
Frequently, we are ruled by the loudest voice in the room, the overbearing bully who makes us uncomfortable, or the last person we talk to. When these negative voices dominate the debate it’s time to engage more rational voices to drown them out. The bigger the choir the less one bad singer makes our group sound off key. By emphasizing quality communication in every other employee, the miscommunicating employee can learn by example. Making quality communication matter protects your organization from a negativity virus that can be spread by a single individual to ruin your organization’s communication health.

Whether you sweep the place out at night or you’re the CEO you need to see yourself as a total quality communicator. Sweat the small stuff in communication and the big stuff might just take care of itself!