The district where I work is big.  50,000 students big.  In fact, my motivation for coming to Santa Ana is tied to both a desire to have a broader impact on students and to learn how school improvement happens at scale.  The size of the organization defies linear cause and effect.  Yes, sometimes A does cause B, but often it splinters out and causes C, D, and E.

One of the most challenging adjustments has been getting my leadership optics right when it comes to accountability.  Let me explain.

In my previous role as a charter high school principal in a small 3-school system, accountability felt natural and organic – and it was typically tied to clarity about job roles and responsibilities.  For example, as the principal of the school, one of my primary job responsibilities was recruitment and enrollment.  Yes, I had support from our central office in the form of an enrollment coordinator, but it was always crystal clear that if enrollment dropped, I would be held accountable.  That accountability was rarely, if ever, my supervisor coming down hard on me.  It wasn’t a stern talking to.  It was much simpler than that.  If we lost enrollment, I had to let someone go.  If numbers sagged, we lost programs for kids.  If I failed or underperformed, I was the one having the hard conversations.

I worked my tail off to sustain a strong enrollment system.  Of course my primary strategy was to build a strong academic program that got results for kids.  But there was a lot more that had to happen.  I taught myself graphic design, I mapped out all of the recruitment events, I personally visited every middle school in San Francisco – with school logo emblazoned mugs filled with candy in hand.  We walked streets.  We filled phone banks. We strategized and agonized.

So it was with just about every task.  We were so small as an organization that I always felt vulnerable.  One misstep, one lawsuit, or one negative PR blowup could have tremendous consequences. Nobody had to remind me of this or reassert their authority.  Accountability was the context of the work.

In Santa Ana, there is still tremendous accountability.  In some very concrete ways, there are layers of public transparency that charter schools simply don’t have to meet.  There is clearly a different standard.

Yet while accountability still plays a substantial role in the governance of a large school district, it doesn’t always operate in natural or predictable ways.  For example, we’ve been experiencing year over year enrollment declines for virtually a decade in Santa Ana.  Yet even if we lose 1000 students in a year, that might only pan out to 10-20 fewer students per school.  As a teacher, I might only see one fewer student in my classroom.  I probably wouldn’t notice at all.

So for the teacher, and even the school site administrator, accountability isn’t experienced naturally.  The district office has to simulate the accountability.  We have to explain a phenomenon that site employees don’t necessary feel in their day to day work.  Even when a school loses enough enrollment to justify a reduction in staff, it sets in motion a complex set of negotiated terms that often means the person who ultimately loses their job probably doesn’t even work at the school in question.  When the reduction in force notice comes, it doesn’t come from the person responsible for enrollment, it comes from the Human Resources department.

That’s all to say, a big part of my learning curve has been making sense of the way districts operationalize accountability – compliance.  We work within a complex web of accountability regimes – board policies, ed code, administrative regulations, and negotiated contracts.  It creates a context that is ripe for tension and conflict – perhaps as any public institution is inevitably prone to experience.  A union invokes a grievance when action is out of line with the contract.  The legal system reinforces Ed Code.

For the rest of it, accountability shifts to the relationship between a supervisor and his or her direct reports.  But that’s a balancing act too. There is a real leadership puzzle in building motivation and morale and momentum  when I’m also responsible for invoking the controls of the system to ensure we are accountable to the public.

This has been a rocky shift for me.  We’re a public institution governed by an elected body that sets policy.  We need financial controls.  And yes, we need compliance.  But we also need energy and momentum and something inspiring to draw out the best in each of us.  I’m actively trying to find the sweet spot of leadership that successfully navigates the two.

Some people love New Year as a holiday – the party, the food, the games.  I have five children 8 years old and under, so my house is always a party with food and games everywhere – a party I get to clean up every night.  Add an extra late bedtime and you have a recipe for emotional breakdown – and I’m not talking about the kids.

I’m a much bigger fan of starting a new year.  That sense of renewal, of new possibilities, of new adventures.  This year, I’ve noticed a lot more online chatter about the uselessness of resolutions or goal-setting.  There’s even some compelling research that suggests that New Year’s resolutions typically fizzle out.  The trend is away from self-discipline to self-acceptance.

I’m all for learning to love who we are – and we all know we’re often our own biggest critics.  But I also think it would be a shame to allow the New Year to roll forward without taking the time to reflect on where we’ve been and intentionally think and plan how the coming year might bring new possibilities.  This launch into the New Year is much more than just writing better goals or mustering more personal mastery.  It’s about taking the time to get some closure and intentionally set our future trajectory.

Set Aside Time for Reflection

My wife’s family started an interesting tradition just a year after we were married 15 years ago.  One of the gifts that we all give one another is a “year history.”  Each of us takes the time to write an overview of the past year.  Highs and lows.  Triumphs and failures.  There is always a healthy dose of laughter and tears.

Anyone in the family will tell you that writing the one-page history can be on the agonizing side.  We write, and revise, and then write some more and keep making the font smaller. Some histories tell stories, some list activities, and some find broad themes to summarize the year.

It’s a tremendously cathartic experience.  Possibly my favorite tradition.  In the end, the process lends incredible clarity to my intentions for the new year.  Having a deadline and an audience has been surprisingly helpful in pushing me to really invest in my reflective process.  But even if you are writing for an audience of one, taking time to reflect and write about the past year is an investment worth making.

Shifting Identities

We tend to use labels and absolutes when talking about ourselves – I’m a writer, I’m not a math person, I don’t cook.  There is a certain sense of finality about how we talk about ourselves.  In some cases, this approach to language reinforces what we like about ourselves.  It communicates our values and the communities we aspire to be a part of.  Often, however, our language closes doors and possibilities for ourselves.

The new year is a great time to play with our sense of identity.

Most people in my job with Santa Ana Unified think I’m a Facebook junkie and a cyclist.  A surprising percentage of my conversations at work start with someone asking me, “Did you ride your bike today?”

Truth be told, prior to moving from San Francisco, I was a reluctant social media user, and I had only recently experimented with occasional bike rides for exercise.  When I moved here, I decided that I wanted to try out some new “characteristics” that I associated with people I considered to be creative and innovative.  I bike to work almost daily.  I’m one of the heaviest users and posters to our district Facebook account.  Of course I had to move through all of the discomfort of being a novice, but over time I’ve learned a tremendous amount about social media and how to ride a bike to work in Santa Ana without dying.

Perhaps that seems shallow or inauthentic.  But for me, my desire to play with new characteristics or identities comes from a genuine curiosity about life and a insatiable desire to learn.  Sometimes I joke with my wife that I’d like to move to a horse ranch and become a cowboy.  Why not?

Find Your Mantra

There’s a reason Michael Pollan’s book “Eat Food, Mostly Plants, Not too Much” got so much traction in the wellness and diet world.  Simple Green Smoothies?  Same thing.  These concepts are simple.  We can digest them quickly.

I’ve spent a lot of time in university classrooms, and some of the most profound concepts that have stuck with me have been the most simple.  I still remember a long conversation about assessment and feedback and how difficult it can be to deliver critical feedback to others.  One of my classmates wrote in big letters on the board: “One Big Thing.”  The message was that people aren’t able to process that much feedback at once, especially if they perceive the feedback as negative.  In essence, you get to address one thing – the most important thing – so make it count.  That simple advice has served me incredibly well over the years in my work as an administrator.

Sometimes we need to switch our long lists and comprehensive plans for simple statements of intention.  We need a mantra.

At the beginning of each school year, my wife and I sit down to come up with a theme for the school year to continually reinforce with our kids.  Instead of outlining a bunch of things we want our kids to do and become, we just choose one.  This year is “Allen’s are Courageous.” That statement hangs near our dining table, and it informs lots of conversations throughout the year.  It’s a deliberate attempt to create a shared value that we hope then translates into desired changes.

With that said, I have to admit that my mantra for 2017 isn’t nearly as aspirational, although it is remarkably simple. I’m only communicating one goal to people around me – “finish my dissertation.”  If I can do that I’ll consider 2017 a success.  Wish me luck.