Most of the time, I emphasize the importance of consistency and alignment over time as the primary strategy for realizing an organizational vision. In other words, you have to play the long game, accumulating small wins over time. I’m a big fan of continuous improvement, and that defines my core practice as an administrator. But sometimes, principals face moments that present special opportunities to define themselves as a leader and truly impact the culture of the organization. Often, those opportunities come in moments of crisis.
One of those moments came for me at the end of my first year as principal. Our leadership team, and entire staff, had battled throughout the year to strengthen the school culture as one that embodied mutual respect and pro-social behavior amongst our students. We latched on to the idea of the Warm Demander, a conceptual framework for building strong, respectful relationships between students and teachers. In essence, being a Warm Demander means your students know you genuinely love and care for them, and that you will kick their butt if they don’t live up to their potential. Our instructional leadership team embraced the opportunity to engage staff in conversations about what high expectations of student learning looked like in classrooms, hallways and shared spaces.
Over the course of the year, we moved from system to system, constantly improving along the way. In some cases, we tinkered. In others, we made a complete overhaul. We moved our referral system to a digital system that allowed us to more easily track and analyze discipline data. We implemented random tardy sweeps to encourage more on-time behavior. We designed a system of positive behavior intervention and supports. We deliberately highlighted and celebrated our students who had made significant growth – both academically and socially.
Obviously, I’m biased. I was the principal and felt tremendous efficacy about our collective improvement work. Of course we had setbacks and moments of tremendous disappointment – both in ourselves as leaders and in some of the decisions made by our students. We weren’t always successful. But we persisted. As we approached the end of the school year, it felt like we had made significant progress.
As graduation neared, several staff members approached me out of concern for certain student behaviors that had historically disrupted graduation festivities at the end of the school year. I ensured my staff that we had permanently committed to high expectations and wouldn’t settle just because the school year was coming to a close.
I had made a deliberate point to communicate with my seniors that they needed to attend graduation rehearsal in order to walk across the stage at graduation. Of course there might be reasonable conflicts due to illness, but this wasn’t going to be something to sluff off.
On the morning of the rehearsal, all but three of our students were present. While I intended to be true to my stated expectations, I had my own heightened sense of concern for my three missing students – I certainly wanted them to participate in graduation, and so I encouraged classmates to reach out directly at the same time that I was calling home and trying to track down the students to get them to rehearsal.
When the three young men finally arrived, nearly an hour late, all three were clearly under the influence of marijuana. In some contexts, this might seem like an easy decision, but this is San Francisco we are talking about, and recreational marijuana use amongst 17 and 18 year old adolescent young men was hardly a criminal or serious offense.
With the support of my admin team, I made the decision to bar the three young men from the graduation ceremony. My calls home to family informing them of my decision brought immediate reaction and anger. How could I deny these young men the culminating moment of a hard fought education? Parents and family members packed into my office, pleading, and then demanding, that I change my decision and allow the young men to walk. As the pressure mounted, teachers began to take opposite sides – with teachers openly advocating on both sides of the decision. I was threatened with lawsuits and physical violence. One of the young men was so incensed that he shattered the glass entry door to the school as he stormed out. What was supposed to be the culminating moment of celebration for the school year descended into a deeply contested crisis.
As the final day of school came and went, opposition to my decision stiffened. I received several phone calls from former staff members and the previous principal asking me to reconsider. Students hinted at a walk out. I couldn’t imagine anything more awful as a first-year principal than a student walkout at graduation in protest of my leadership.
Internally, I wanted nothing more than to relent and allow the young men to walk. I’m a people-pleaser, and I don’t like to see people uncomfortable or experiencing difficulty when I have power to assist. But I’m also deeply committed to exercising the leadership necessary to move schools and organizations to the next level of performance and shared values. This decision very much felt like a critical inflection point in driving home the message that above all, I was committed to holding high expectations as the principal – regardless of the consequences.
I should note that my supervisor and superintendent Gia Truong supported my decision. As was her approach to developing principals, Gia refused to overrule me and make the decision herself and instead engaged me in a serious of questions to ensure that I understood and could articulate my own thinking on the matter. I think she knew this was a decision that was killing me – and sometimes I wonder whether she herself was curious what I would do in the end.
In the end, three young men didn’t walk at graduation. There was no walkout – although I had to sweat it out the entire ceremony as I was unsure what might happen. I clearly remember crafting a statement for my staff – making it clear that I too was struggling with the decision, and that I was not entirely sure that it was the best outcome for the three young men involved. I was, however, certain that given our struggles and history as a school, that it was the right decision for our collective community.
Over the days, weeks, and months that followed graduation, and with the benefit of time, many of my staff came forward to express their appreciation of my commitment to act with integrity in a difficult situation and for being transparent with my decision-making process. Even some of those who were most vocal in their opposition approached me to share their feelings of respect for my decision. Years later, that first graduation came up with some frequency when staff members shared stories about me.
In the end, I truly do believe that we made the right decision for our school. Of course I’m not entirely closed to the idea that things could have played out differently and still have had a positive outcome. I certainly still ache a bit on behalf of the young men involved. But seeing a tough decision through in a crucible moment provided me with a resolve later down the road that made it easier to make difficult decisions when the pressure mounted. It wasn’t just a defining moment for the students and staff for whom I had stewardship – it has shaped how I perceive myself as a leader. It’s a decision that stays with me.
