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IN PURSUIT OF AN ETHIC OF CARING:
UNDERSTANDING THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN CARING AND POWER

IN SCHOOL ORGANIZATION AND LEADERSHIP

by

Kathleen S; Sernak

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of Teacher Education

1993

ABSTRACT

IN PURSUIT OF AN ETHIC OP CARING:
UNDERSTANDING THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN CARING AND POWER
IN SCHOOL ORGANIZATION AND LEADERSHIP

By

Kathleen S. Sernak

This study examines an urban high school in the midst of
:nultiple reform efforts intended to develop the community and
empower teachers and other staff members. Administrators and
faculty members were charged with developing and implementing
site-based management, and participating in partnerships with the
local business community and with the local university.
Additionally, the new principal, a female, sought, through her own
and the reform efforts, to establish the school as a caring place.
The study focuses on the understandings of and relationships between
caring and power. Three considerations drive the study: 1) How is
the notion of caring perceived by individuals and groups? 2) How
is the notion of power perceived by individuals and groups? 3) Do
caring and power intersect and, if so, how?

The data collected for this study included: interviews with

teachers, administrators, and support staff; observations of

Kathleen S. Sernak

teachers in their classes; observations of faculty, department,
1university-school, and business committee-school meetings;
observations of teacher in-services and student convocations;
observation of meetings of the steering committee for site-based
management; informal conversations in teachers' lounges and
cafeteria; informal observations in the halls, counseling office,
discipline office, and main office; documents, including steering
committee minutes, pertinent to the development and implementation
of site-based management, student newspaper and scrapbooks of the
history of the school, administrative job descriptions, and the
student handbook. The study's results include analysis of the
formal interviews, fieldnotes on informal observations and meetings,
and documents pertaining to site-based management.

Using feminist standpoint theory which emphasizes the
importance of location and history, efforts toward development of
school as a caring place occurred within a school plagued by a past
history that negatively influenced its present Operation and
required that caring be embedded within a power structure of
bureaucratic hierarchy. The results of the study indicated there is
a complex intersection between the power relations of schooling and
reform emphasizing caring. The degree to which one perceives the
intersections as caring or power depends upon context. cultural
understandings of caring and power, and the nature of reciprocal

relationship between the care-giver and care-receiver.

Copyright by

KATHLEEN S. SERNAK

1993

DEDICATION

to:

Kim and Kent

iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This dissertation culminates perhaps the most challenging and
difficult period of my life. During the past five years I made
decisions and embraced knowledges and understandings that have
caused me to face myself as I have never done before, and to rejoice
in, rather than to deny, who I am. I am a dreamer; I am an
idealist. I will continue to struggle for social change that will
allow for differing viewpoints, differing interpretations of life,
and differing values. I will continue to view education as the
primary source of social change. And I will continue to hope that
education and schooling might someday become one.

I look forward to writing these final pages to acknowledge my
appreciation to all those who have helped me reach this point in
life and who have made this dissertation possible.

First to my children, Kim and Kent Johnson, who encouraged me
to pursue my work at yet another level of intensity. They never
doubted my abilities, and always bad faith in me, even when I did
not. Whenever I reached the brink of despair, they intuitively
seemed to know, for I would receive a note, a phone call, or a gift
from one or both of them. But most importantly, they taught me about

caring-~how to give and how to receive.

iv

I am immensely proud of both Kim and Kent. Kim is a science
teacher with the goal of becoming a teacher educator. She is
' sensitive and compassionate, and sees the potential in students
others view as deviant. She values difference and learns from it.
She taught me that I did not always know the best interests for
others and that 'caring' can be oppressive.

Kent, a doctoral student in philosophy, has pushed my thinking
throughout the coursework leading to the dissertation and throughout
the dissertation process. He continually challenged me and provided
me with different ways of considering a topic. I learned, and
continue to learn, the art of arguing as an intellectual exercise.

I treasure the summers we shared over the past four years and have
delighted in seeing his emotional and intellectual growth.

I dedicate this dissertation to Kim and Kent with all my love,
and with deep respect for them.

To my mother, Eleanor Sernak, who showed me the depths of
caring. Although she could not understand why I would give up a
good job and prestigious position for financial insecurity and the
stress of a doctoral program, she supported and encouraged me. Her
attendance at my defense was one of her proudest moments---and one
of mine to have her there.

To Van and Ruth Johnson, my children's grandparents and
virtually second parents to me, for their love and acceptance. They
continually encouraged me and had faith in my academic potential.

To the members of my doctoral committee, each of whom brought

unique talents which, together, added to the breadth of my thinking

about my work. Lynn Paine served as my academic advisor throughout.
She believed in my work from the beginning and saw its potential.
Her careful reading, detailed comments for my reflection, and our
discussions significantly contributed to the quality of this work.
David Labaree was instrumental in my taking a more critical look at
caring, urging me to consider a need for the structure that
bureaucracy provides. Through his attempts to imagine an ethic of
caring as the basis of schooling, I began to see the need to
conceptualize caring in relation to power, rather than as a binary
opposite. Anna Neumann had the unique talent of being able to
listen to my disorganized thoughts and make sense out of them for
me. She also prodded me to think more deeply, but she did that with
a gentleness and sensitivity that left me feeling good about the
work I had done and excited about going further. Brian DeLany
looked at my work from a policymaker's perspective and helped me see
what further work I would have to do in order to be credible to and
effective with educators who make policy. Finally, Mark Conley used
his experiences in teaching and working within reform formats to
help me understand the complexity of reform.

To Eliot Singer who appreciated my writing and my ideas early
in my program. His support contributed to my believing I had
important contributions to education.

To Carol Wolfe who has struggled along with me. I appreciate
never having to explain to her how I was feeling because she knew

and accepted and valued me and my ideas. She challenged me with

vi

different perspectives about caring and power, and respected my
playing with new ideas.

To the many others who contributed in thoughtful and helpful
ways. Jeremy Price who helped me toward an understanding of
critical, poststructural, and postmodern thinking, and Lamar Fertig
who continually challenged my views of education. Tammy Lantz
encouraged me to think about connections, contributing to my
thoughts about the relationship between caring and power. All these
discussions left me rejuvenated and eager to proceed with my work.

To those who participated in this study, the teachers,
administrators, and staff members who work under difficult
constraints yet continue to make a difference when others believe

that is impossible.

vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE: IN PURSUIT OF AN ETHIC OP CARING .

Genesis of the Study
Development of an Idea
Background Study

My Study

Focus of the Study
Results . .

CHAPTER TWO: HETHODOLOGY

Introduction
My Choice of Methods
Data Collection Methods .
Interviews .
Observations and Hanging Around
Participant Observer . . .
Changing the Question .
Data Analysis .
Personal Reflections

CHAPTER THREE: CARING OR POWER? .

Introduction

Pmmr. .

A Critique of Bureaucracy .

An Ethic of Care

Women as Care-Givers .

Tenets of an Ethic of Care
Connection .
Particularity of Responsibilities
Commitment . . . .
Reciprocity - Giving and Receiving .

Critique of an Ethic of Caring

Caring as Women's Work

Caring as Connection

viii

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16
16
19
24
28
29
33

39

39
46
53
58
S9
61
61
64
66
67
72
73
83

Caring as Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

Caring as Reciprocal . . . . . . . . . 96
Whose Caring? "The Myth of Sisterhood" . . . . . . . 98
Summary: A Politics of Care . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
CHAPTER FOUR: THE STORY OF DIVISION HIGH . . . . . . . . 108
Impressions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Yesterday . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
Today . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
CHAPTER FIVE: THE PRINCIPAL: POWERFUL CARE-GIVER? . . . 128
Mattie Johnson - Background of a Principal . . . . . 132
Mattie Johnson - Care Giver . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
Setting the Tone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
Building Pride in DHS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
Building Trust . . . . . . . . . . 140
Having High Expectations for Self,
Staff, and Students . . . . . 148
Accepting One' 8 Humanity--Se1f and Others . . . 152
Ministering to Faculty and Students' Needs . . . 153
Building Community. . . . . . . 159
Reflections on Mattie' s Understandings
of Caring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Mattie Johnson - Power . . . . . 163
Taking Power - Working with External Forces . . 165
Maintaining Power - Balancing School and
District Bureaucratic Expectations . . 178
Pursuing Power - Climbing the
Hierarchical Ladder . . . . . . . . . 189
Mattie Johnson - Powerful Care Giver . . . . . . . . 191
Reflections on Mattie's Understanding
of Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192
CHAPTER SIX: THE STAFF: WAR! CARE TAKERS? . . . . . . . 195
In Need of Caring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
The Staff as One Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
For Lack of Trust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
Fragmentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
Inadequate Communication . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
To Care for Students . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
High Expectations for Students . . . . . . . . . 208
Student Attendance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
Students' Personal Lives . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
Domestic Difficulties . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212

ix

Violence and Crime .
Defending DHS .

The Staff as Unique Groups . . . . . .
Senior Staff Members: Wary and Weary
Veterans of Desegregation . .
Veterans of the District and of

Division High .
Site- based Management Steering Committee

Members: Dealing with Ambiguity .
Faculty Innovators: Needing Collaboration .

In a Nutshell: What Is Collaboration? .
The Ninth Grade Team .
Unraveling the Story .

Reflection . . . .

CHAPTER SEVEN: CARING-POWER: A CONUNDRUH .

Caring and Power: Shared Attributes
Webs of Relations - Individual Caring
and Collective Caring
Caring-Power: Individual Effort .
Caring-Power: A Collective Effort .
Caring and Power: Reciprocal
Caring and Power: Contextual
Caring and Power: Socially Constructed
An Ethic of Caring--or--Power That Oppresses?

CHAPTER EIGHT: CARE/POWER: QUAGHIRE? .

Research Issues . ' .

Individual and Collective Caring .
Caring as a Female Ethic .
Who Will Care and How Much .
Caring as Multiply Interpreted .
Leadership and Organization

Conclusion . . . . . . .

BIBLIOGRAPHY .

214
215
216
218
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225

232
239
240
244
252
263

268
269

269
275
277
283
292
294
298

301

303
303
305
307
309
311
314

315

CHAPTER ONE

IN PURSUIT OF AN ETHIC OF CARING

Peace does not mean an end to tension, the good tensions,
or of struggle. . . . It means being centered.

May Sarton
The House by the Sea

In a sense, this study is about being centered. It is the
story of a group of people who struggled and experienced tensions--
both good and bad--as they tried to be more caring to one another.
It is also a story about power--how it affected the people who tried
to care. It is a story about school people who attempted to find
the appropriate relationship between caring and power in order to

attain . . . freedom? peace?

Genesis of the Study
This study actually began several years ago during my first
research experience. I was assigned to interview several teachers
at a high school in Newtown (the city where the current study
occurred). The first person I met was Mattie Johnson, an assistant
principal at our project site. When I met her, she was the last

person I wanted to meet.

The first day to conduct interviews I awoke to my doorbell—-
not my alarm. The carpool had arrived and I was still in bed. My
colleagues left while I hurriedly threw on my clothes and raced for
my car. There was no way I would arrive in time. To make matters
worse, I did not know how to get to the school and lost even more
time as I stopped several places for directions.

I arrived at the school twenty minutes late, embarrassed,
flustered, and apologetic. Hoping to meet my colleagues before
having to face administrators and teachers, I rushed into the main
office looking for a familiar face. Seeing my bewilderment, one of
the secretaries asked if she could help me. I told her I was with
the university research project; she directed me to the inner
administrative offices.

As I opened the door, I glimpsed a fellow graduate student.
Just as I felt a wave of relief sweep over me, an imposing, regal
woman stepped between us. Life all but drained from me. Before I
could begin to explain and apologize, this woman grinned and emitted
a deep, hearty chuckle that even made me smile.

. She looked at me with that wide grin and said, "You must be the
one who overslept. I'm Mrs. Johnson, the Assistant Principal."
Embarrassed, I tripped over my words. She simply put her hands on
my shoulders, and said something like, ”Honey, bein' late isn't the
end of the world. Don't you worry about it. We're glad you’re here
and you’re all right. Com'mon into my office and catch your

breath." She took my coat, escorted me to her office and to a

comfortable chair, then left the room while I tried to regain my
composure.

She returned shortly with coffee for me. After recounting an
incident in her life comparable in embarrassment to mine, she ended
with that laugh that I'm sure could be heard throughout the school.
"Now,” she said, "would you like to get on with the interview?"

Mattie Johnson's sensitivity and warmth, her caring, impressed
me. Because of that incident I began to think about school
leadership and what it would be like to work for a principal who was
as caring as the assistant principal I had met. Was it possible for

schools to be 'caring places'?

Development of an Idea

Throughout the next few years, my research focused on teaching
and learning in urban schools. I was no stranger to city life
having lived in an inner city during my childhood and adolescence
and having taught in urban schools. However, I was not prepared for
the 'neediness' I found. I am not referring to material needs--
although many of the students lived in poverty--but to the desire to
be acknowledged simply as being, as existing. That need was as
evident among teachers as it was among students.

As I worked with the students and teachers, interviewing them
and observing classes, I noted the eagerness with which they
responded to my interest in them. Interviews scheduled for thirty
minutes usually extended to an hour. Rare was the time when

students and teachers had little to say. The norm was for me to

begin with a question, and with very little encouragement, the
persons talked as though no one had ever asked about their thoughts
and lives.

My reading, although not specifically planned as such, focused
on educational reform and the debates over why kids were not
learning and what they needed. As a feminist, I was particularly
intrigued with the literature from feminist educators and thinkers
that discussed the need to be more caring in schools. I thought
about whether schools could be caring places. From what I had
experienced as a teacher and as a researcher, I was not convinced.
There were individual teachers who cared, but a whole school? Not
that I had known. Besides, I was not sure what I meant by a 'caring
place.’

The more I read reports about educational reform and feminist
writings about schooling, the more I experienced urban schooling as
a researcher, and the more I thought about my past teaching in a
large, inner-city junior high, the more I came to believe that the
climate-~the attitude--in schools needed to be changed. Students
were not 'products' to be turned out; parents and students were not
'clients' of the 'corporation' of school. School comprised people
who think and feel, who do not leave their personal selves outside
the school doors.

I read reports detailing the needs of students from minority
and/or lower socioeconomic cultures and how schools are failing them
(Edelman, 1987; Fine, 1986, 1987; Anyon, 1983, 1981; Cusick, 1983;

Ogbu, 1988; Olsen, 1988; Sedlak, Wheeler, Pullin & Cusick, 1986;

Weiler, 1988); and reports about the changing demographics in the
United States and the effect they are having on schooling
(Hodgekinson, 1988). Each, implicitly or explicitly, indicated the
necessity of treating our youngsters with more caring and
understanding in order for them to achieve in school and to succeed
in life.

I turned to literature on organization. Schools are
bureaucratic and hierarchical. That type of organization does not
support the kinds of things--community, cultural understanding,
connectedness--teachers, researchers, social workers and others said
students need in order to learn (Bryk, Lee, & Smith, 1990; Schorr,
1988). I looked for feminist writings about organization. Women,
particularly, were beginning to seriously talk about the need to
change organizational theory to support structure that emphasized
caring, which, in turn, supported community, connection, and
interdependence (Acker, 19912 Calas & Smircich, 1988; Hearn,
Sheppard, Tancred-Sheriff & Burrell, 1989; Smircich, 1983, 1985;
Kanter, 1977).

Along with the organization literature, I read works about
leadership. Researchers, particularly women, wrote about the
changes that female leaders attempted to make in order to be more
nurturing and sensitive to those whom they supervised. They talked
about the necessity of working with employees, sharing decision
making and responsibilities; and envisioning themselves in the
middle of an organization, not at the top (Blackmore, 1991a, 1991b;

Helgeson, 1992; Regan, Smircich & Morgan, 1982). They called for

r)

changes in thinking about leadership and organization that would
value cooperation as much as competition, interdependence as much as
independence.

But what actually was being done in schools to encourage such
change? How would or could school people develop collaboration and
cooperation, and community and interdependence in an organizational

structure based on hierarchical power?

Background Study

To understand how educators thought about caring in schools, I
searched for information that would lead to a better understanding
of what caring is, and for research that described what teachers and
administrators did to create and develop schools as caring places.
Because I began to realize that I did not know how to discuss or
explain caring, I turned to philosophers to learn how to understand
the meaning of words and concepts (Putnam, 1975; Suter, 1989;
Wittengenstein, 1989). Then, Gilligan's research (1982) and
Noddings' (1984) philosophical understandings provided background
for me to think about caring itself and an ethic of caring;
Noddings' most recent work aided my thinking about caring in
schools.

I found the research about caring in schools was minimal,
dealing primarily with individual teachers and their students, or
individual administrators' perceptions of leadership they considered
caring, but not with an organizational structure that would support

caring as a way of life throughout the school (Kriesberg, 1992;

Noblit, 1993; Regan, 1990). Books and articles about learning
communities and cooperative learning exist in profusion, but the
central force of all of them is the individual classroom (Cohen,
1986; Putnam & Burke, 1992; Johnson & Johnson, 1974, 1987; Slavin,
1984, 1987).

My question, originating two years earlier as I left Mattie
Johnson's office, remained: Was it possible for schools to be

caning places: I now added, How?

My Study

All of my research experience was in Newtown; I was fascinated
with the city and with the school system-~the grit in the midst of
hardship. The city and its schools were in crises, economic and
social. People seriously questioned whether Newtown would survive
or would become a ghost town in the near future. Gangs, drugs, and
violence abounded within the city (according to students; city
officials and educators denied that); and the schools functioned
within the environment, succeeding remarkably well at limiting
actual violence and drug dealing in the buildings, pg;_§g.

An image of Newtown's schools could have been among those that
prompted educational reforms to urge school people to create changes
that would make room for caring. I chose Newtown as the site for my
study on the ways a school staff made changes that had the potential
to make schools caring places. I chose the particular site,
Division High School, because Mattie Johnson was beginning her first

year as principal there.

There were a number of factors that influenced by decision to
collect data at Division. Mattie Johnson was the principal, new to
the school and determined to have Division become known as a school
where students knew they were cared for and about. The other
administrators, male, were also either new to the school or to their
positions. I wondered how they, as males, would respond to Mattie's
goal of caring.

In addition to a new administrative staff, the faculty and
staff agreed to become a site-based managed school. Changing to
that type of organization provided challenges to the traditional
bureaucratic top-down model of governance. I wanted to see how the
faculty, administration, and other staff worked together to
implement site-based management. What traditional assumptions would
they challenge? Would the school people be able to break away from
the this-is-the-way-we've-always-done-it mentality to a way of
working together that might be ambiguous, especially at first?
Would administrators and teachers, traditionally adversaries, learn
to trust each other? If so, how? If not, why not?

Finally, Division hosted not only my research, but that of a
university project embedded in a larger project, the latter a
collaborative effort of school, business and university. Both of
the projects had the potential to support change away from
bureaucracy and hierarchy and toward a collaborative, cooperative
organizational structure emphasizing caring and, therefore, school

as a caring place.

I began my data collection focusing on change: how
administrators and teachers perceived it, if they perceived it; who
influenced change, how, and to what degree; did change involve a
conscious effort of staff members to become more caring; what did
staff members mean by caring and how did they perceive it.

As I interviewed teachers, support staff, and administrators, I
realized they talked about power and power relationships often.
Members of each of those groups referred to the oppressive nature of
power, that is, those in more powerful positions to themselves
wielding control over them (the principal and central administration
controlling teachers, the principal controlling secondary building
administration, and faculty in positions of authority controlling
other teachers).

Teachers particularly discussed the principal in terms of
power--authority, domination, and control. I was confused, for I
saw her as a caring individual who had as her Number One goal to
bring caring to Division High. I was startled at my own thoughts:
SHE had as HER goal. . . . What did an ethic of caring as a basis
for organizational change mean in terms of leadership? Could one
lead without using power? Was power always control or domination?
Could power be used positively, even if people thought it was
control? What exactly was power? Could power be caring? Could
caring be power? My head spun with the notion that caring and power
might somehow be 'connected.’ I had never thought about the

possibility of caring and power as complementary concepts.

10

I went back to educational literature for guidance to help me
with the concept of power and care connected. There was much about
power and much about care; almost nothing about care and power.

What there was focused again on one teacher and her/his classroom
(Noblit, 1993; Kreisberg, 1992). Although there was literature that
considered leadership and organization from the standpoint of a
re-conceptualization of power--power as facilitative (Dunlop and
Goldman, 1991), as ”power with" others (Kreisberg, 1992), or the
ethics of using power (Starratt, 1991)--there was virtually nothing
about the connection of caring and power concerning school
leadership and organization.

I felt compelled to find out if there was a positive
relationship between caring and power and, if so, how would I need
to understand 'power' in order to understand that relationship. The
initial focus of my study, that of the process and perceptions of
change that might lead to the development of an ethic of caring in

schools, changed.

Focus of the Study
The focus of my study became the understandings of and
relationships between caring and power. How did the principal and
teachers perceive caring? How did they perceive power? Did the
principal or teachers use power to accomplish an act that ultimately
lead to caring? How did staff members perceive the use of power,
that is, was power understood as caring or as oppressive? How did

staff members perceive acts intended as caring? Is the use of power

ll

necessary to achieve caring, and if so, is there a need to

re-conceptualize power?

Results

There is a complex intersection between the power relations of
schooling and reform emphasizing caring. The degree to which one
perceives the intersections as caring or power depends upon context,
cultural understandings of caring and power, and the nature of
reciprocal relationship between the care—giver and receiver.

Caring as a collective of individuals seems to be considerably
more difficult than caring between individuals. Concentration on
one person's best interests is far less complex than determining the
best interest for a group of individuals, making the latter more
political, that is, a politics of caring.

Finally, caring and power as socially constructed concepts are
perceived differently by people from various cultural backgrounds.

The following chapter details the methodology and data analysis

to conduct the study.

CHAPTER TWO
METHODOLOGY

A person may conceal himself behind his image, he can disappear
forever behind his image, he can be completely separated from his
image: a person can never be his image.

Milan Kundera
Immortality

Introduction

This chapter is about me as much as it is about the methods
used to collect data. Early in the writing process of this
dissertation, I hit a block; I could not write about the thousands
of thoughts that spun through my head and dominated my life. One of
my committee members suggested that to get over the block I write
about my connection to the topic and how I, perhaps, had chosen the
topic because of its personal relevance to my life. ‘My immediate
reaction was that my connection to the topic was purely academic and
not personal. I did begin to write, but only from the surface of the
data.

Throughout the process, however, the notion of a personal
connection between myself and that of caring and power festered
within me. I found myself defending myself to myself: I am a

caring person, power is not important to me, I would willingly work‘

12

l3

collectively and cooperatively with others to achieve the best for
all of us. Yet, the more defensive I became, the more I knew that
at some point I would have to face the fears I have of personally
being too controlling and dominating in the guise of caring for
others. When I finally acknowledged those fears, I began to read
and listen to the interviews differently.

The data became not only an intellectual challenge to
understand the relationship of caring and power, but a personal one
as well. The questions that drove me are: does caring, at times,
require the use of authority or control because people, for a
variety of reasons, do not always understand what is in their best
interests; and who am I (or who is any person) to judge what is best
for another? As I reflected on Mattie's and the teachers' thoughts
about each other, the students, and the school, I really tried to
understand where they merged caring and power, where they believed
power was necessary in order for others to develop, or whether they
used the pretense of care in order to benefit themselves, albeit not
intentionally. I also tried to understand if they thought about the
effect their intents and actions had on others--did others not only
initially feel cared for or controlled, but did they, ultimately,
benefit individually or as a group? And, most importantly, I saw

them as individual people, most of whom probably wanted to be

caring.

14

My Choice of Methods

The choice of methodology I used was the case study. My
interest is people, who they are individually and how they interact
with others. The case study allowed me to conduct an in-depth study
of the lived experiences of teachers and administrators in one
school; it provided me the opportunity to observe and interview the
staff to understand their behaviors, perceptions, and experiences as
they lived them and as they were affected by the history of the
school (Hammersley & Atkinson, 1983; Bogdan & Biklen, 1982).

The case study enabled me to conduct my research in accordance
with feminist thinking about scientific study, specifically,
feminist standpoint theory. Standpoint theory, based on the
politics of identity and location, made intellectual sense to me,
but I wanted to find out how much people's identity and situation
affected their thinking and actions and, thus, research. Concerns
evidenced about the case study method-~research is confined to one
place and based on a small data base, it is too difficult to
generalize because the data is situated-~were actually my reasons
for choosing that approach. Feminist thinkers, including myself,
believe that knowledge is contextual, that it is situated. There
are no unitary or finite truths (Luke & Core, 1992; Noddings, 1992;
Gilligan, 1982; Harding, 1987, 1991; Weiler, 1983?). The case study
approach, therefore, afforded me the opportunity to study a
particular group of people in a specific context. What I learned is

specific to that group of people.

15

I was able to examine not only the ways the staff members
approached change and viewed caring and power, but also the ways in
which the history of the school affected them as they dealt with the
process of change, and with caring and power. From the perspective
of standpoint theory, one's identity is a result of one's history
and experiences. Through multiple formal and informal conversations
with staff members, I learned that they were not simply reacting to
a current dilemma, but were reacting in response to the dilemma from
their prior experiences within the school and/or district. That
knowledge was critical to my interpretations of the current
situations.

The case study approach gave me the advantage of really getting
to know the people in the school. For me, they were not simply
voices on cassette tapes or transcribed interviews in bulging
folders, but people who had individual identities, people who
existed beyond the walls of Division High.

Finally, the case study approach allowed me to practice my
belief in the multiplicities of interpretation. My data source was
one school among thousands that could have been chosen, and I am one
researcher among many. Because of who I am--my personal history and
experiences-~my interpretation is only one of many possible. My
commitment to the belief in multiple interpretations of data
reinforces the notion of multiple strategies to solve the dilemmas
presented. There are no single-strategy solutions for change, for
ways of implementing an ethic of caring, or for re-conceptualizing

power; there are no finite truths.

16

Data Collection Methods
The particular methods I used included formal and informal
interviews of teachers, support staff, and administrators; classroom
observation; participant observation; and "hanging around." I
audio-taped all formal interviews and had them transcribed. I kept
fieldnotes on all interviews and observations, both formal and

informal.

Interviews

My interview schedule began with the administrators. The first
interview dealt with their professional histories, their goals as
persons new to their positions, and their aspirations. For the
next few months, I interviewed Mattie and attended meetings that she
held. My focus was virtually on the principal and, by hanging
around, familiarizing myself with the building and routines,
observing students as they interacted among themselves and
informally with teachers, watching teachers interact among
themselves, getting to know faculty members on an informal basis,
and, generally, making myself available to any opportunity that
might present itself to me. During that time, I also had several
informal conversations with the deputy principal and one of the
assistant principals when they monitored the student cafeteria. I
learned background information about the students and about the
kinds of support staff at Division.

At the beginning of the second semester, I began interviewing

teachers and staff members. The first teachers interviewed were the

17

chair of the steering committee for site-based management, who had a
formal position of leadership and two teachers who taught at
Division from its opening day. I asked each of them to give me a
list of the teachers and staff members who were in formal leadership
positions and those who were informal leaders in the school. I based
that decision on the thought that many of these leaders, because of
their positions, play some role in organizational structures that
may or may not affect organizational change. From those three and
from names Mattie gave me, I chose the people that were mentioned
most often. After that, I interviewed teachers who I kept meeting
through other activities or who were recommended to me by teachers I
interviewed. In all, I interviewed fifteen males and eighteen
females, of which eight were African American, one Pacific Islander,
one Korean and twenty-four white.

The interviews were semi-unstructured. My intent was to ask
the teachers and staff members about Division's organizational
structures, past and present, how they functioned and impacted the
teachers and administrators; about changes in structure they
perceived affected the ways in which teachers and administrators
interacted, within and between the groups; about site-based
management, shared decision-making, and consensus and the changes,
if any, they perceived regarding organizational structure and
culture; about the administrative team, past and present, and its
influence, personally and/or through goals that either maintained or
changed the structure and culture of Division; about the role(s)

they saw themselves playing in organizational change; and how they

18

described their experience concerning the initiation, negotiation,
and implementation of changes within the school. For most of the
interviews, I would start with a question or two, and then I
basically listened and asked questions that built on their
conversation.

I formally interviewed the chairperson of the steering
committee, three steering committee members, two ninth grade team
members, the deputy principal, the two assistant principals, and two
counselors three times; the remainder of the teachers and staff were
interviewed once. I interviewed Mattie seven times.

I made a conscious decision to separate myself from Mattie
during those four months of the second semester, talking with her
only if I met her in the halls or in the main office. The intent
was to build trust among the teachers and myself; I did not want
them to think that I would meet with Mattie to talk about their
interviews. Consequently, for these four months, I spent most of my
time formally interviewing teachers, talking with teachers at
various times throughout the day in one or the other of the
teachers' lounges, and visiting with teachers in the teachers'
lunchroom during each of the three lunch periods.

The last month of school was unusual. Prior to that last
month, I taught overseas for three weeks. When I returned to
Division, I was nervous, wondering how I would re-establish myself
in order to wind up my data collection. There was no need to worry,
for as I entered the building, I was greeted not only by students

from the ninth grade English class I had taught for two months as

 

19

part of my university role, but by faculty members asking where I
had been, saying they had missed me and thought I might not be back,
and saying they were glad to see me. I was included in invitations
to end-of-the-year lunches and people just assumed I would be at the
final day's breakfast for teachers.

The biggest surprise, however, was the change that occurred in
the relationship I had with the teachers regarding my data
collection. Teachers began coming up to me in the halls to
'volunteer' information they thought would be useful, to make
appointments with me for interviews, or to give me names of teachers
I should talk with about a specific topic. I felt as though by
going away and then coming back, the teachers knew I really was
serious about them and the changes they were attempting. I believe
a bond of trust was established, much as Hammersley and Atkinson
(1989) discuss. The more an ethnographer is in the setting, the
more trust increases, and the less concerned are the participants
with controlling the information available to the researcher. I
felt the teachers, at that point, wanted me to have information that
previously they had not wanted to share with me, but now trusted

that my interest in them was genuine.

Observations and Hanging Around

Observations included a variety of activities. I observed
teachers' classes; some I asked to observe, for others, I was
invited. That gave me the opportunity to view students, procedures,

and lessons that teachers discussed with me. The literature

20

regarding what is said and done in schools indicates that often
perceptions differ in terms of what is verbalized and what is
actually accomplished, of what is said and what realistically can be
accomplished, of what is said and how that is interpreted for action
(March, 1980; Weatherley & Lipsky, 1977; and Thompson, 1980).

The student convocations were particularly interesting to me.
After the first marking period, students who maintained their place
on the honor roll from the prior year were invited to attend a
celebration in their honor. The event took place in the cafeteria;
students were excused from a morning class to attend. As they
entered, they were offered juice and cookies, and were given a
certificate of achievement and some Division memorabilia.

For the first time since I had been at Division, I saw several
white students, most of whom sat together in groups, but as part of
groups with black students. _The students chatted among themselves
and were quite orderly, that is to say, they filed into the
cafeteria, stood patiently in line for their juice, cookies, and
gifts, then sat at the tables talking quietly while waiting for the
event to start.

The program consisted of three speakers: Mattie, an assistant
principal, and the mayor of Newtown, who was a former Division
graduate. All complemented the students on their achievements and
encouraged them to continue studying so they could go on to college.
The mayor, who was the main speaker, used much of his time to
emphasize behavior, that is department. He talked about men's

responsibility to be gentlemen and women's to be ladies. His thrust

21

was sexual responsibility, with a heavy emphasis on the girls'
responsibility to dress properly and not to entice the boys. I
found it very interesting to watch the reactions of the students,
~who seemed to accept what he said without resistance as indicated by
their nods to him and by the looks they exchanged with their
classmates. When the mayor concluded his talk, the students
applauded him, and then were dismissed. Most left for their classes,
but a few hung back to talk a moment with the mayor.

The other convocation I attended celebrated Black Brotherhood
Week. Because the auditorium was too small to hold the whole student
body, teachers signed up to take their classes. The process was
first come, first served, which meant not all students were able to
attend all convocations and, conceivably, some students might never
attend, depending on the teacher they had that hour. The deputy
principal assigned each teacher a specific place in the auditorium
to sit with his/her class. Students entered noisily, yelling to
friends, milling about, and being rounded up by teachers to sit in
assigned rows.

The convocation began with the singing of the Black National
Anthem; few students seemed to know it. The din resulting did not
appear to be singing. Across the aisle from me, a student's voice
rose above the rest, blatting out the words of the anthem. Before I
could determine what the noise was, three teachers converged on the
student to stop him and to reprimand him (simultaneously). The

program then commenced.

22

A faculty member had asked for permission to work with students
to create the program. Students read original or published poetry
celebrating black Americans; a community choir, the majority of whom
were Division students, sang spirituals; and a local jazz group with
which the band director played, performed for the students.

As interesting as the performances, were the "asides” that
occurred. The choir was directed by a woman who was also a
secretary at Division. Before the choir sang, she talked to the
students about learning how to read and about staying in high
school. I felt as if I were at a revival as students interjected
”A-men” and other positive responses throughout. The more response
the choir director-secretary received, the more animated her talk
became. As she introduced each choir selection, she attempted to
relate it to the values that students should have. At various
points throughout the program, the deputy principal reminded the
students to quiet down, and praised them for being together in the
auditorium with no ”incidents." The band director and a member of a
local jazz group also talked to the students about the importance of
staying in school. No white students or teachers participated in
the actual program.

Both of these convocations gave me insights about caring and
power; both influenced my thinking about my study, nudging me to
begin thinking about what caring might mean to another culture, and
whether that would be the same as my idea of caring (see Chapter
Three and Seven). I bristled when the mayor admonished the young

women to be responsible for not teasing the young men, and saying

23

explicitly that it was up to the girls to set the standards for
sexual responsibility. I was uncomfortable listening to person
after person 'preach' to students about the benefits of graduating
from high school, intimating that high school graduation would bring
them 'success.’ Those convocations forced me to recognize that I
had to 3213 to understand caring and power from others'
perspectives, and to not impose my own feelings on their experiences
and words. Many times, following through with those recognitions
was difficult or, sometimes, nearly impossible for me.

I observed meetings--faculty meetings, steering committee
meetings, half-day meetings (department meetings, academy meetings),
meetings with the business committee, and meetings with the
university partnership team--on a regular basis. I was a silent
observer at all but the university partnership meetings. I was
asked not to audio-tape the steering committee meetings; however, I
was allowed to take notes and was given minutes of the meetings (a
member of the committee, with the approval of the chair, gave me all
the minutes of the steering committee from its first meeting).

As a member of the university team, I had several roles. I
worked one-on-one with a teacher who asked for help to improve his
teaching. As part of that role, we decided I would teach a ninth
grade English unit so we could talk about my thinking concerning
planning and implementation; so we could use my teaching as a basis
to discuss pedagogy; and so that the teacher could more closely
observe the students as they participated in the learning

experience. I also facilitated team planning sessions for teachers

24

working on academies and the ninth grade team. I was uncomfortable
concerning my note taking during the meetings of the university team
and teachers involved with the university project. I was a
participant of the project, yet the notes I would take related to
data on the relationships of caring and power. I talked with my
immediate supervisor, who felt there should be no problem with my
taking notes for my personal data.

Hanging around took place in a variety of settings. I sat in
the main office, watching teachers, parents, students, and visitors
come and go; I watched the interactions between the secretaries,
between the secretaries and student workers, between the secretaries
and teachers, parents, or visitors; I sat in the waiting room of the
discipline office, watching and listening to the students talking
with each other, with the secretary, and with the assistant
principal; I walked around the hallways between classes and watched
students, security guards, and teachers; I stood in the counselling
office waiting room listening to the secretaries dealing with the
constant stream of students; and I went to the auditorium on a
university extension campus to watch the students decorate for their
prom and to talk with their senior sponsors. All these activities
contributed pieces, or made clear pieces I already had, about the

inter-relationships between groups and individuals.

Participant Observer
As one of several university representatives collaborating

with Division teachers on various projects, I felt that the position

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25

as participant observer affected my data collection both positively
and negatively.

Positively, I developed a camaraderie with the individual
teachers and teacher groups with whom I worked. In those instances,
I felt that they saw me as a colleague who was willing to work with
them. Because of my work, they began to trust me, breaking down the
barriers of researcher and participants. They became informants to
whom I could go for background information and 'updates' on current
situations. Some would seek me out in order to apprise me of
information that the person thought would be helpful.

On the negative side, there were some teachers who chose to
speak with me as little as possible because of my association with
the university. In fact, one teacher refused to let me interview
her because she wanted no contact with the university and I, was in
effect, a part of that institution. That teacher and several others
had participated in a summer project sponsored by the university;
many of them left with a negative attitude about the university and
wanted no part of the partnership (see Chapter Six).

The most disappointing happening of my participation in the
university partnership was the toll it took on Mattie's and my
relationship. We began the year reclaiming the respect and
admiration we had for each other as a result of a previous research
study. We had several conversations, each of us 'catching up' on
'the other, and then our moving into the negotiation for my data
collecting. Mattie was eager to talk with me about her

expectations, concerns, and excitement for Division.

 

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26

I put off telling her about my involvement with the university
partnership because I could tell from a few general comments that
she had serious questions about the university's position at
Division. About six weeks after school started and before the first
meeting with the university representatives, I told Mattie of my
dual role-~researcher and university collaborator--at Division High.
Her face became very stern. She asked me just exactly what my role
would be and if my role with the university was integral to my data
collecting. I told her my study was not contingent on the
university's role at Division and that, in fact, I expected the
roles to be quite different. She agreed to let me proceed with my
study.

For the next month, Mattie seemed open and even talked with me
about concerns involving the university. However, the more time the
university representatives spent at Division and the more they
involved themselves in Division's concerns, the more Mattie's and
my conversations seemed to assume a formal and, at times, stilted
quality. They were never as free and Open as they had been prior to
Mattie's knowing I was part of the university team. I often wonder
if I would have been her sounding board if I had not been a part of
the university. When I first approached her about doing the study at
Division, she had asked me if we could discuss my observations of
her so she could use the information and our discussions to think
about ways of doing things differently.

Prior to beginning this study, experienced researchers

questioned me about my dual role at Division, cautioning me that it

27

could present problems and/or put me in a compromising position. I
was convinced that the two roles could be separate; I found they
could not. The experience was not all negative and I do not believe
the dual role hurt my data collecting overall. However, I would not
choose to have such a dual role again, for I agonized over
situations that would not have presented a dilemma for me had I not
been involved with the university. For example, there were times
supervisors from the university, knowing I was collecting data,
wanted information that was confidential. In those instances, I was
put in an uncomfortable position of having to refuse compliance with
those who had power over me.

Finally, neither negative nor positive, was the reality of
‘being unable to keep my two roles separate. I found myself thinking
about caring and power as it related to everything I did at
Division. Whether I was working with a group of teachers on the
ninth grade team, or whether I was in a discussion about teaching
methods, I thought about caring and power relationships and how the
individuals and groups were addressing change. I also found that I
digressed in some of my interviews to talk about the partnership and
how it could help that teacher, or, in some cases, attempted to
defend partnership actions.

At other times, I was very critical of the partnership, noting
its attempt at control through the rhetoric of caring. At those
times, I found it difficult to respond positively when a participant

in my study asked me outright for my opinion.

28

Changing the Question

The initial intent of this study was to examine the perceptions
and experiences of Division's staff as they participated in
organizational changes that were focused on developing collaboration
and cooperation among and between administrators and staff. Since
the goals were consistent with those embodied in an ethic of caring,
I wanted to learn if staff members understood a need for caring, how
they would define that need, and how they envisioned meeting it.

As I interviewed teachers and administrators, however, my
question changed its focus to the relationship of caring and power.
Virtually all the participants in my study talked about the need for
a caring environment, but the understandings and perceptions varied
widely concerning the understanding of what caring meant to them,
individually, as groups, and as a whole staff. What one person
defined as caring, another saw as control, a power over that was
oppressive.

Additionally, I began to question my own thoughts about caring
and power. Prior to my data collection, I had the notion that
caring and power were two separate concepts. Caring was good and
power was bad. Listening and observing at Division caused me to
re-think the relationship and to examine the participants' intents,
actions, and perceptions of the intents and actions to determine
whether power might be re-conceptualized as something more than that
which is oppressive, but something that has a positive effect as
well. I, then, also wondered how power might be used to effect acts

of caring. In essence, my question turned to the inter-relationship

29

of caring and power, divesting myself of the notion that power and
caring are dichotomous. My focus, then, moved from a study of
perceptions and notions of change to that of perceptions and

understandings of caring and power.

Data Analysis

Data analysis consisted of my listening to the taped interviews
and reading the transcripts. I initially began analysis by only
reading the transcripts and would have been satisfied to do only
that except there was a gap in one of Mattie's transcripts. Since I
could not make sense of the written piece, I went back to the tape.
To my amazement, hearing the words added so much to my understanding
of the context of the discussion and circumstances of the interview.
The emphases of words, the nuances in voice texture, the speed of
talking, and the silences all contributed to a dimension I did not
have through the written text alone. From that experience, I
decided to listen to all the interviews as I followed along with the
written transcripts.

From the interviews, I looked for common strands that
identified the ways in which staff members, explicitly or
implicitly, discussed the concepts of caring and power as they
experienced them. I analyzed Mattie's interviews separately from
the interviews with the teachers, for I found that she was pivotal
in the staff's attitudes about change, caring, and power.

I examined Mattie's interviews for her perceptions of herself.

I wanted to know her intents, purposes and actions to carry out her

30

goal of caring and how that goal related to her other goals of
improving student achievement, building community relations, and
developing and implementing site-based management. I looked for
indications of control and authority and whether Mattie used them in
oppressive ways, for the teachers continually described Mattie as
controlling and authoritative, preventing them from reaching goals
they desired.

I re-read her interviews to note whether there were indications
of Mattie's viewing power as a ”capacity to implement,” (Baker
Miller, 1976, p. 116). Did she use power not for herself or over
others, but to allow teachers opportunities to develop themselves?
Did she use the power of her position and the power she generated
from her charismatic disposition to advance the growth of individual
faculty and staff members and of the staff as a whole?

Through the interviews I looked for her intentions and actions
of leadership, as well as her description of her image of a leader.
How did her perception of leadership fit the organizational
structure, site-based management and shared decision making toward
which Division was moving? Did she use her power to move toward the
achievement of Division's goals?

As I analyzed the teachers' and support staff members'
interviews in a similar way. My focus was on their perceptions of
caring and power in terms of caring for the faculty and support
staff, that is caring for themselves. I examined their interviews
to learn if and how they exerted power among themselves in

oppressive ways, such as indicating support for a colleague's

31

project but actually working against its acceptance; and if they
used personal and/or political power that manifested itself as
caring.

I examined faculty and staff interviews for insights about
leadership and organizational structure. Did the faculty have
common understanding and agreements on the kind of leadership and
organization they could support? Did those insights and perceptions
evidence characteristics of caring?

As part of the analysis, I focused on the relationships between
what the participants, including Mattie, said or implied and what
they actually did in terms of caring. I used my fieldnotes; notes
on observations of Mattie, teachers, and support staff participating
in various meetings at Division; notes on Mattie's and various
teachers' meetings with outsiders; and notes on observations of
informal interactions among staff members and my informal
interactions with staff. I found common themes, listed them and
compared them to the list of common themes I identified from the
participants' interviews. From those lists I examined relationships
between caring and power.

My intention was to note the multiplicity of perceptions and
experiences and the ways in which they contributed to the staff's
understandings of caring and the relationships between caring and
power. I looked for evidence of organizational structure that
limited or enabled change in organizational culture, and what
changes were initiated or negotiated to enable those changes the

faculty desired. Through this part of the analysis, I sought to

32

learn if caring and power were understood in similar ways, or if
they were individualistically perceived, defined, and experienced
and, thereby, perhaps in conflict with the efforts made by a
pluralistic group toward particular changes. That is, did a group
recognize a need for change, identify a specific need--perhaps, the
need to develop an ethic of care--work to achieve the change, then,
ultimately perceive and experience the change(s) in individualistic
ways?

Using my fieldnotes and notes that I kept of various meetings,
I examined my role of participant observer as it may have affected
the research. I interacted directly with teachers. How they
responded to my presence as a researcher may be as informative as
how they reacted in their groups (Hammersley & Atkinson, 1983).
Although I have no way of knowing for sure how my presence affected
them, I read the interviews with an eye toward participants'
monitoring the information they gave me, telling me what they
thought I wanted to hear, putting themselves and Division in the
best light possible, and/or struggling over the hard issues with me.

The point of my research is to emphasize the many possibilities
for interpretation of the lived experiences of those whom I study.
As Maxine Greene so eloquently states, "To recognize the role of
perspective and vantage point, to recognize at the same time that
there are always multiple perspectives and vantage points, is to
recognize that no accounting, disciplinary or otherwise, can ever be
finished or complete. There is always more. There is always

possibility" (Greene, 1988, p. 128). And it is with this intent,

33

that there is always more and always other interpretations, that it
is not the point of research to reach a "complete grasp of abstract

principles" (Greene, 1988, p. 120), that I conducted this project.

Personal Reflections

Many aspects of this study have given me cause for concern,
some because of my novice status as a researcher, and some from
basic theoretical concerns regarding the interpretation of data.

Let me begin with myself as a novice researcher.

As I look back on my data collection, I realize that I
overlooked aspects which I now believe are important, even critical,
to this study. My intent was to balance my interviews in terms of
gender and ethnicity. Not only did my interviews not reflect the
ratio of African American teachers and white teachers, but to my
dismay, I did not discover my neglect until writing this chapter.
That causes me great concern because awareness of and sensitivity
toward all peoples is a personal as well as professional aim for me.
By realizing that I did not seek out African American teachers and
staff members to interview, I feel that I have contributed greatly
to the feeling of invisibility that one of the teachers discusses in
Chapter Six.

Thinking about that neglect causes me to ask why I was unaware
of my not interviewing African American teachers and staff members.
The names people gave me for formal and informal leaders contained
primarily white teachers. Additionally, very few black teachers

frequented the teachers' lounges or lunch room. I should have

34

questioned those disparities, particularly as the faculty was split
almost evenly between African American teachers and white teachers.

I can attribute my oversight to inexperience as a researcher.
However, I think there is also an underlying question regarding
research in schools with high populations of non-European persons.
Can white, middle class researchers divest themselves of their
egocentrism to really see from the perspective of other cultures?
Even when they--I--try, is it possible for them-~for me--not to fall
into the traditional patterns of 'seeing,' that is, of gravitating,
unknowingly, to people and situations with which we are most
comfortable, of seeing things in paradigms that 'fit' our patterns
of thought? My neglect has given me personal insight, as well as an
understanding for the critical need to have more educational
researchers of non-European backgrounds active and contributing to
the analyses and interpretations of the needs for American
education.

As a novice researcher, one of the more difficult aspects of
data collecting was hanging around the school. I felt uncomfortable
sitting or standing in the office, rather like a 'fifth wheel.’

When teachers would comment that it must be nice to have so little
work to do, I would blanch and, at the same time, remind myself to
smile and not be defensive. I worried that the teachers would not
take my research seriously. Hopefully, with more experience,
hanging around will become less painful and anxiety-producing.
My interview schedule influenced me in a way that I had not

intended nor anticipated. I mentioned earlier that it was

35

essentially divided between interviews with Mattie during the first
part of the school year and teachers during the latter half. The
more I associated with the teachers, the more I began thinking like
them. I began to question Mattie's intents and actions, seeing the
teachers as victims of administrative power. Occasionally I would
'catch' myself and attempt to put the teacher interviews into
perspective, weighing what they said against what Mattie said, and
against what I observed. However, when my data collection was
completed and I began the analysis procedure, I discovered how
immersed I had become in the teachers' culture. I listened to audio
recordings of Mattie's and the teachers' interviews, read the
transcripts, and read my fieldnotes, and was startled to realize how
biased my thoughts had become against Mattie. Going back to the
data brought me back into the reality of really thinking about the
impact of perception and interpretation of other's intents and
actions, and how those perceptions and interpretations can influence
others.

My theoretical perspective is that of feminist standpoint
theory, the politics of locale and personal identity. Collecting
my data I was aware of the impact the history of the school had on
the staff members' attitudes toward and ways in which they worked
toward change. As I listened to the interviews and read and re-read
the transcripts, I realized that the personal histories of the staff
enhanced my understandings of why they thought and functioned as
they did. Unfortunately, few of my interviews contained much

personal background. I became so immersed in the immediate topics of

’YJ

36

caring and power and how the school's history influenced
administrators' and teachers' perceptions that I did not pursue the
personal identities of the staff. As I think about the follow-up
studies to this research project, I want to be aware of seeking out
the individuals' personal backgrounds.

My history and position also influenced the ways in which I
read and interpreted the data. As a woman and as an educator, I
wrestled with the need to care and the need for care. I struggled
to understand how I used power in my life and how that power related
to my sense of caring.

I thought about myself as a parent, as a teacher, and as an
administrator. There were times when I believed I needed to use
power in order to effect a result that ultimately was caring. There
were also times when I took control or used my authority to effect
what I thought was in the best interests of someone or a group, and
I was wrong. There were also times that I believed I was caring and
the recipient(s) saw my efforts as solely authoritarian and power
over.

Those experiences caused me to think about the ways in which I
was unable to separate the notions of caring and power, that I did
not see power as only oppressive. Power could be used to liberate.
Power could be used to accomplish good things. But, how did I know
when caring and power would work together for the good? How could
I know when what I intended as caring would be interpreted as not
caring, but as power over? As I read the data, I thought about the

intents as well as the outcomes of actions that people took, for

.-. ._..- -_

37

often the intent was caring, but because of inherent bureaucratic
constraints, the outcomes may have been less than the caring hoped
for.

From personal and professional histories I recognized that I
need caring. As I interpreted the data, I had to be aware that I
did not impose my needs on those whom I interviewed.

From a methodological and theoretical perspective, I have
serious concerns about readers' interpretations of my report. I
want to make very clear that my report reflects the people only in
as much as I could understand who they are. Although I try to
express their thoughts and actions through their voices, you must
understand that you are still reading them through me, for I chose
the interviewees, I chose the quotations to use, and, most
importantly, I saw and heard them from the depth of my own life and
experiences. Try as hard as.I might, it seems impossible for me to
get ”outside of my own skin” (Krieger, 1991, p. 53). And like
Krieger,

. the more I try to grasp someone else's

experience, the more I am impressed with how hard it

is, how much beyond me that other experience really is.

This makes me reluctant to present my views as someone

else's. I think it is important to try to grasp

experiences that are not one's own. However, such

attempts ought not to be masqueraded as other than what

they are: they are attempts, they grasp only small

pieces of experience, and they are always impositions

of an authorial perspective. (p. 53)

Hence, the story of the persons at Division High School is an

- interpretation of their lived experience as understood through my

lived experiences (Schutz, 1970, as cited in Neumann, 1992). That

38

understanding reinforces the notion of there being no finite,
unitary truth; research is situated, not only in locale, but in
individuals.

The chapters that follow focus on people who are attempting to
effect changes that will make their school more caring. Although
they do not routinely describe the changes as caring, they use
phrases such as, "the need to build trust,” "the need to understand
each other," ”the need to work with each other."

Caring does not come easily. Each person brings a history
which is a result of past individual and collective, personal and
professional experiences. Perceptions and understandings of caring
and power emanate from those backgrounds.

Before I begin the story of Division High's staff, however, I
examine the concepts of caring and power, especially as they relate

to organizational structure and leadership.

CHAPTER THREE

CARING OR POWER?

Women seek a reconstruction of relationships for which we have
neither words nor models: a reconstruction which can give each
person the fullness of their being. . . . We seek a new concept of
relationships between persons, groups, life systems, a relationship
which is not competitive or hierarchical but mutually enhancing.

Rosemary Radford Ruether
New Woman New Earth 1975

 

Introduction

Psychologists, theologians, and philosophers have long
acknowledged the necessity of caring relationships as essential to
human existence. John Macmurray (1950), a protestant theologian,
wrote that only through relationships can-persons realize freedom
and genuine personhood, and that choosing to involve oneself
actively with others is "indissolubly linked” (Beck, 1992, p. 456)
with personal freedom. Jean Baker Miller (1976), noted
psychologist, in her seminal work regarding the emergénce of women
from the private to the public sphere of society said, "It now seems
clear we have arrived at a point from which we must return to a
basis of faith in affiliation-~and not only faith, but recognition
that it is a requirement for the existence of human beings" (p.

88). Martin Buber (1965), philosopher and theologian, admonished

40

that in order for there to be community, there had to be caring
actions; without them, ”the organic community disintegrates from
within . . .” (p. 197). In a lengthy study of American
individualism, Robert Bellah, sociologist, and his colleagues (1985)
found that people throughout our country believe in the "sacredness"
(p. 142) of the individual, that is, anything that violates our
right to think, judge, or make decisions for ourselves, or to live
life as we see fit, is not only morally wrong, but is sacrilegious.
Despite this strong tendency for individualism and independence,
Americans are ambivalent, for they recognize that only in relation
to society can individuals fulfill themselves. It is against this
backdrop of the necessity of relationship to human life and,
therefore, to personal freedom, that I position a discussion of
caring and power as they relate to school organization and
leadership.

The organization of our social institutions, bureaucratic and
hierarchical, contributes, in large part, to the emphasis on
independence and individualism. Bureaucracy is based on
power--authority and control--of the few over the many. Although
not intended by the classic Weberian model, modern bureaucratic
organization breeds competition, individualism, and independence,
all of which are needed to ”get to the top,” and all of which
contribute to the maintenance of a stratified social system.

In recent years, feminist thinkers have spoken out against such
organization, calling instead for an alternative built around

caring, which would have at its core, relationships (Noddings, 1992,

P01

41

1984; Beck, 1992; Smircich, 1985; Calas & Smircich, 1989). Behind
that call is an understanding of the need to build community, to
recognize the importance of relationship to the individual as well
as to community, and to work together if we are to survive as a
viable society. The call is, in essence, to care.

School reformers, seeing too many children fail and/or served
inappropriately or not at all within the schools' traditional
bureaucratic hierarchy, also have taken up the cry to re-organize
and re-structure schools to reflect an atmosphere of caring and
concern (Blackmore, 1991; Regan, 1990; Starratt, 1991). Nel
Noddings (1984, 1991, 1992), whose work has been fundamental to
educators' thinking about the relation between caring and schooling,
has issued a challenge to the education community to develop schools
in which an ethic of care presides. But, it is one thing to talk
about re-organizing schools around an ethic of care and another to
do so.

Such a challenge is not simply to change the ways school are
structured to function, but to change the politics of society.
Re-structuring schools to function under an ethic of care is
fundamentally positing a major shift in the way we think about and,
iconsequently, enact, power and relationships in the larger society.
It is positing the shift of caring, a heretofore private quality, to
the public realm which has been dominated by unequal power
relationships.

The implementation of an ethic of caring in schools is a

political issue concerning power, for such an ethic would be

42

situated within the current power structure, affecting and affected
by it. An ethic of caring would focus on building relations,
fostering interdependence, and creating community within schools.
That focus is significantly different than the current one which
emphasizes independence, autonomy, and competition, maintaining the
bureaucratic hierarchy of domination of the few over the many. In
order to work within the tenets of an ethic of caring, a
reconceptualization of power is necessary, for power emphasizing
one's own development at the expense of others would no longer be
acceptable. Politically, an ethic of caring would require a major
shift in values and moral reasoning, a shift to a commitment to
working for the good of others as well as one's self.

In order to understand what school organization based on an
ethic of care entails, it is necessary to first explore the current
structure of schooling which is modeled on bureaucratic hierarchy.
I begin by focusing on the Weberian model of bureaucracy which
referents the 'organizational model of choice' for its
administrative efficiency and its attempt to equalize power. I,
then, present a discussion of an ethic of care as a foundation for
school organization, followed by a critique of an ethic of care

focusing on the politics of caring.

Weber's Rational-Legal Medel of Bureaucracy
Efficiency
Weber understood that problems of power and authority are at

the heart of bureaucratic organization. His theory of bureaucracy

43

focuses both on the structure of the organization, setting forth the
ideal model for the efficiency of the institution or state, and the
power of the organization, which consists of control and domination
fostered by the bureaucratic structure. Current organizations and
mainstream organizational theory, however, tend to underplay the
aspect of power as domination, restricting the concept of authority
to an emphasis on the functional contributions to efficient
management practices, that is, the uses of hierarchy, leadership,
and technical competence (Fischer, 1984, p. 174). In this section,
I will discuss the ideal model of bureaucracy in terms of technical
efficiency for organizations.

Bureaucracy advanced as a method of organization in response to
a culture that was becoming more complex and specialized. Weber
theorized that authority is the basis of organization, for it
directs the organization toward its goals by imposing order on chaos
(Fischer & Sirianni, 1984, p. 7). His main concern was the
replacement of the authority that leadership gained from tradition
and charismatic qualities with leadership arising from a
rational-legal basis. In the latter, authority is derived from
procedurally-determined rules and regulations which coordinate
various administrative units to efficiently achieve organizational
aims. Built into the organization is a hierarchy with levels of
graded authority. These serve to establish a system of checks and
balances, with supervision by higher offices of lower ones, and by
providing the opportunity of appealing a decision by a lower office

to a higher authority.

 

44

For the worker, this system means that her job is defined by a
formal job description outlining the criteria necessary for her to
fulfill the job (although, most likely, the criteria are interpreted
by the supervisor) rather than by direct orders or whims of the
supervisor; she is evaluated by those criteria, rather than
subjectively assessed; and she is aware of the rewards and
punishments for adequate or poor performance. Organizationally,
the outcome is that such formal structure and status distinctions,
resulting from a rigid hierarchy, make possible a narrower
differentiation of jobs. Hierarchical authority also makes the power
relations less visible, that is, power is embedded in the rules and
structure of the organization rather than directly attributable to
"personal, arbitrary power” (Edwards, 1984, p. 131).

Weber conceptualized the ideal bureaucratic model of
organization as one that would ensure the rational and logical
functioning of the system by eliminating the personal, that is, the
emotional. By everyone's adhering to a set of standardized,
abstract regulations, all persons are treated fairly and justly.
Case-by-case decisions are eliminated in favor of universal
standards which apply to all, and against which all are measured and
judged. Authority becomes imbedded in a set of rules and the rules
become, in turn, "the bearers of authority” (Anderson, 1966).

Although Weber concentrated his attention on the positive and
intended consequences of the use of rules, there are both functional
and dysfunctional consequences. Rules provide direction for

organizational behavior, including role performance and

45

clarification among roles. They allow decentralization of authority,
making possible control of behavior from a distance. (See Foucault,
Diggipline_§ng_ggnigh, for an in depth discussion of control from a
distance.) Rules depersonalize authority relationships, serving as
a buffer between supervisors and subordinates. They justify
punishments by giving advance notice of sanctions for noncompliance,
while simultaneously providing protection for subordinates from
unjust punishments. Rules provide the basis for negotiation between
supervisors and subordinates. Finally, rules serve as a buffer
between employees and external demands (Abbott & Caracheo, 1988).

Dysfunctional consequences of the use of rules also exist.
Rules can lead to goal displacement and role distortion, causing
compliance with the rules rather than a judicious enforcement of
them. They may reinforce apathy and foster legalistic thinking,
through the discouragement of creative efforts and encouragement of
minimal performance justified by legalistic interpretation of the
rules. They also lead to avoidance behavior; rules are substituted
for personal judgment. Additionally,

. . adherence to rules also leads to rigidity on

the part of the employees. To avoid punishment,

organizational members adhere closely to the rules; in

those cases where it is necessary to choose between

exercising judgment and adhering to rules, the rules

tend to win. The increased rigidity that results from

strict adherence to rules tends to increase the amount

of conflict between members and clients, and the

increased conflict leads in turn to an increase in the

felt need for defense on the part of employees. The

increased need for defense tends to lead to a

proliferation of rules, which leads once again to

increased rigidity, and the cycle is repeated (Abbott
& Caracheo, 1988. (p. 248)

 

In My.

46

Bureaucratic organization that nears perfection operates like a
machine, discounting and discrediting human emotions and human
agency. Each person fits into the organizational machinery like
cogs in a wheel. Each person and each office is dependent on the
others, operating within the systems' guidelines and administrative
regulations so that the organization as a whole functions at a
technically superior level--with precision, speed, continuity,
discretion, unity, strict subordination, and no ambiguity. The more
completely developed bureaucracy is that which is "dehumanized" or
as Weber further describes, “the more complete[] [bureaucracy]
succeeds in eliminating from official business love, hatred and all
purely personal, irrational and emotional elements which escape
calculation" (Weber, 1958, p. 216). When all the conditions of the

ideal model are met, the height of efficiency is achieved.

Power

Although the rational-legal model of bureaucracy, with its
focus on authority, hierarchy, and technical efficiency has
been--and continues to be--viewed primarily as a model of
administrative efficiency, Weber (1958) saw it equally valuable as a
tool to balance power in a mass democracy by leveling economic and
social differences. He explained, ”[T]he more complicated and
specialized modern culture becomes, the more its external supporting
apparatus demands the personally detached and strictly 'objective'
expert . . .' (p. 216). Ideally, a rational-legal system of

bureaucracy removes power from the dominant classes and distributes

.47

it to those most capable in the needed areas of expertise.
Organizations manage and control through rules and regulations
enforced by experts who have particular knowledge and qualifications
specified for their levels on the hierarchy, and who are needed to
direct and operate the system. No longer is authority the privilege
of persons with power derived from ascribed social and economic
status. Everyone has an equal opportunity to reach the top of the
hierarchy through meritocratic means, by aspiring to meet universal
standards and by accruing the necessary expertise to fulfill the
position of authority. Authority and its ensuing power, according to
Weber, occur through legitimate means, and are employed through
agreed-upon rules or laws ”concerning the coercive means, physical,
sacerdotal, or otherwise, which may be placed at the disposal of
officials" (p. 196). Authority is not arbitrary, but ”rests on the
willingness of free individuals to enter into a contract or to
conform to orders based upon a prior agreement" (Abbot & Caracheo,
1988, p. 244). ‘
According to Weber, power includes ”every conceivable quality
of a person and every combination of circumstances that may put
someone in a situation where he can demand compliance with his will"
(Weber quoted in Abbott & Caracheo, 1988, p. 241). Bureaucracy
gives legitimacy to power emanating from the organization inasmuch
as power is derived from authority. Authority, Weber indicates, is
earned by adhering to the rules and regulations of the organization
and by acquiring expertise and knowledge to exercise reason in order

to enact the laws integral to the organization. Legitimation of

48

authority and, therefore, power, occurs as individuals willingly
enter into a contract or conform to laws based on prior agreement.
Individuals agree to domination based on law and reason.
Bureaucracy, in essence, is conceived of three types of legitimated
authority: rule by law, that is, legal domination; acceptance, by
those governed, of the norms upon which the laws are based, that is,
legitimation; and, elimination of irrational elements, such as
emotion, from the actions of officials, that is, rationality (Abbott
& Caracheo, 1988). Authority, therefore, gives rise to power; power
is not causal to authority. .For Weber, the legitimation of power
through authority obtained by rational and legal means was of utmost
importance. Authority was gained through rational means; therefore,
power, in the ideal model, would be used rationally.

Despite his conceptualization of power as an equalizing agent,
and of authority as the cause of power, Weber recognized the
problematic aspects that bureaucracy presented in terms of power.

He implied that bureaucracy is like a double-edged sword. It is not
only an instrument for equalizing power, but "is a power instrument
of the first order--for the one who controls the bureaucratic
apparatus” (Weber, 1958, p. 228).

Bureaucracy, in fact, is a type of domination, and domination
is a form of power (Abbott & Caracheo, 1988). 'Power over,’
including domination, subordination, coercion, subjugation, or
manipulation (Kreisberg, 1992), is a driving force in bureaucratic
structures. The use of power in this manner enforces and maintains

social stratification, not only in the organization, but in the

49

whole of society. Marx addressed the issue of bureaucracy in his
consideration of the state and its levels of hierarchy.

Although Marx is not considered an organizational theorist, he
has provided acute insights about bureaucratic control in his
discussions of the hierarchy of the state. He saw bureaucratic
organization as an invidious tool of the bourgeoisie to dominate
and control the proletariat. His insights are valuable in a current
analysis of bureaucracy as it applies to organizations and
organizational theory.

In “The Spirit of Bureaucracy,” he discusses hierarchy and
secrecy as formal characteristics of bureaucracy. He contends that
each successive level of a bureaucracy deceives one another; that
bureaucrats, concerned more with their own careers, mask their own
goals in those of the organization; and that the bureaucratic
meaning of things is often much different than the real meaning.
These results arise from secrecy, that is, only those at the top of
the hierarchy have the information necessary to operate and maintain
the state. Therefore, those with the information are those who have
power over others and power to determine the goals of the
organization/state (Marx, 1967). Expertise not only brings
efficiency, but also power over subordinate levels of workers.
Unlike politicians who are voted into a position for a term of
service, the experts, secreting their information from others, may
be there indefinitely. The more information one has, the more power
over others s/he has. Workers are separated from their products,

know only pieces about the organization, and therefore have only

50

minimal information into the understanding and maintenance of the
organizational system. Each level of the hierarchy is dependent on
the one above for survival in the bureaucratic system. For
efficiency purposes, this system of people fitting into the
organization like cogs in a wheel works well. This system, however,
promotes a 'power over' reality. That is, power is restricted to the
few at the top over the masses at the bottom of the hierarchy.
Bureaucracy is a circle no one can leave. Its

hierarchy is a hierarchy of information. The top

entrusts the lower circle with an insight into details,

while the lower circles entrust the top with an insight

into what is universal, and thus they mutually deceive

each other. (p. 185)

In Weber's rational-legal model of bureaucracy, the
institution's efficiency is enhanced by implied consensus across the
hierarchy regarding the institution's goals. The goals are
rationally determined and agreed upon. Marx, however, strongly
suggests that bureaucrats, ensconced in advancing their own careers,
make the aims of the organization their own in order to move up the
hierarchy. Power over the workers results as the bureaucrats use
their power to advance their careers which they achieve by meeting
the institution's goals. In essence, Marx sees bureaucracy as an
imaginary state obsessed with its own power and formalism. Through
the power of bureaucracy, the powerful "possess[] the state's
essence, the spiritual essence of society, as private property” (p.
186). Those at the top of the hierarchy see the world as an object

to be administered. The system perpetuates social stratification,

maintaining the power at the top.

51

Others have also noted the 'power over' or dominating effect
of bureaucracy as it relates to stratification within organizations.
In order to understand the domination of the mass of workers by the
few, the organization must be seen as a system, one in which "power
is institutionalized and the various elements of control fit
together” (Edwards, 1984, p. 137). The system carries out the
directives, the monitoring and evaluation, and the rewards and
punishments. People are responsible only insofar as they fulfill
their roles within the system. Power, therefore, is embedded in the
social relations of the organization.

Through this system, bureaucracy ostensibly eliminates
arbitrary and capricious rules by bosses. Because of the legal
nature of the system--detailed written rules and regulations and
procedures for following them-~supervisors are subjected to scrutiny
as they evaluate workers' performance. Workers also have the right
to file grievances, giving them a ”sense" of power, if they believe
their rights have been violated. All are entangled in the system.

Workers are motivated to support the system through rewards and
incentives for cooperating with the organization and punishment for
recalcitrance. Positive incentives, however,

. . function as an elaborate system of bribes,

and like all successful bribes, they are attractive.

But they are also corrupting. They push workers to

pursue their self-interests in a narrow way as

individuals, and they stifle the impulse to struggle

collectively for those same self-interests. (Edwards,

1984, p. 138)

The power emanating from the top of the hierarchy manipulates

the workers into believing their best interests lay within the

 

52

organization. The workers are isolated from each other, each seeing
only one piece of the job and having little knowledge of how all the
pieces fit together. The workers are dependent on their fitting into
the organization and see the system as their benevolent benefactor.
When there is discontent, it is expressed individually or in small
groups through grievances; there is not opposition from the larger
collective, as the workers have been effectively stratified through
bureaucratic control. Even the union poses little threat to the
system, as it does not question the organization of work, but
directs its energies to non-job benefits, such as salary, fringe
benefits, and working conditions (Fischer, 1984). Power is actively
embedded in the social structure of the organization.

School systems, too, maintain power of the few over the many
who are subordinate. A quick glance at schools reveals a hierarchy,
from the board of education members at the top to the students at
the bottom, with similar outcomes to other bureaucratic
institutions. Teachers are the middle-level managers who enforce
the rules and regulations that provide service to the students
(clients), but, more importantly, control and regulate the students'
behavior so that it services the bureaucracy in the largest sense,
society. Policy emanates from the top--the district level--to the
school and classroom level. Administrators and teachers, with the
belief they are serving the clients, enforce the rules and
regulations and maintain the norms that limit the range of options
among the students. School organization prevents teachers and

administrators, despite attempts within individual classrooms and

53

schools, from pursuing interdependence, connection, and care among
themselves that could enable them to search for their own freedom.
In turn, the barriers placed before teachers and administrators
limit their ability to inspire students to learn to learn in order
to become capable of transforming society into one that is less
oppressive and more equitable.

Educational reformers believe there are better ways of
organizing society's institutions, ways that are non-hierarchical
and are not rule-bound, but are based on caring relationships. The
following section is a critique of bureaucracy by those who indicate
why they believe there is a need to change institutional

organization and, ultimately, the larger society.

A Critique of Bureaucracy

Organizations are not animated machines, but are composed of
human beings with feelings and emotions. The attempts to achieve a
'perfect' bureaucracy, one that is totally rational and logical,
often result in dysfunctional consequences. Bureaucracy is as much
a process as an organizational structure, shaping the texture of
society into multiple pyramidal hierarchies with room for only few
people at the top, and valuing competition, independence, autonomy,
and logical reasoning over cooperation/collaboration,
interdependence/relations, connection, and the logic of feelings
(Calas & Smircich, 1989; Ferguson, 1986). In general, bureaucracy
is bounded by rules and norms which ostensibly are to maintain or

increase efficiency, but which in essence serve to maintain the

54

bureaucracy by restricting the range of options for all but those at
the top of the pyramid (Kanter, 1977). The result is the
maintenance of inequality within the organization, as well as in
society.

As both a structure and a process, bureaucracy

must be located within its social context; in our

society, that is a context in which social relations

between classes, races, and sexes are fundamentally

unequal. Bureaucracy, as the 'scientific organization

of inequality,’ serves as a filter for these other

forms of domination, projecting them into an

institutional arena that both rationalizes and

maintains them. (Ferguson, 1984, pp. 7-8)

Additionally, bureaucratic practices of limiting information and
communication to only information necessary for the workers'
specific role in the institutions produces isolation,
depersonalization, and alienation. The results are de-skilling,
fragmented lives and the loss of connection with other human beings.
The workers see only that which they produce and the final product;
they have little or no understanding of how their work integrates
with others,’ nor are they knowledgeable about each step in the
process necessary to reach the goal.

One-way language-~the language of technics which emanates from
only the top and provides no opportunity for worker response--
replaces human action. How closely the workers' behavior fits their
places in the bureaucracy becomes the measure of worth (Arendt,
1958). There is no room for discourse, debate, or judgment. The

language of technics does not facilitate communication which could

lead to enactment of change in the organization, but controls the

55

behavior of those within and limits their upward mobility (Ferguson,
1984).

A perception of organizational structure is that it has been
built on what are now considered male-determined, -accepted, and
-legitimated characteristics: the rational, logical, and analytic.
The result is organizational structure built on abstract and
rule-bound constructs; hierarchy; and dualism (Acker, 1990; Hearn,
Sheppard, Tancred-Sheriff, & Burrell, 1989; Schaef, 1985; Noddings,
1984; Gilligan, 1982). Organizational systems become analytical and
defining, driven by the desire to be technically well—functioning
wholes. To accomplish the latter, there is a need to analyze,
understand, and explain by breaking down the system into its
component parts and defining each of the parts in turn (Schaef,
1985). Jobs become organizational aspects to be defined apart from
the whole and independent from the people who fill them.

Joan Acker (1990), exploring the way in which jobs and
hierarchies are genderized, discusses the way in which
organizational logic abstracts them. According to this logic, jobs
and hierarchies are abstract categories; they have no occupants, no
human bodies, no gender. She explains that in organizational logic,
jobs are viewed as "a description of a set of tasks, competencies,
and responsibilities represented as a position on an organizational
chart. A job is separate from people" (p. 148). Jobs are evaluated
from the perspective of their characteristics, not from that of the
people who may differ in their skills, commitment and

industriousness. People are chosen to fit the job. "The job exists

56

as a thing apart" (p. 148); the job is an abstraction. As such, it
can be filled only by ”disembodied workers" who exist only for their
work. As such, their lives, in the eyes of those high in the
bureaucracy, have no legitimate obligations beyond those required
for their jobs.

Hierarchies also are not conceptualized as having workers, but
are built on abstract differentiations. Organization is based on the
fact that workers accept hierarchy as a given, as an acceptable
principle. The way in which jobs within the hierarchy are ranked
must make sense to the managers, and must be perceived as fair by
the workers if the system is to work. ”Levels of skill, complexity,
and responsibility, all used in constructing hierarchy, are
conceptualized as existing independently of any concrete worker" (p.
149). Again, the worker is seen as disembodied, this time from the
hierarchy. Jobs and hierarchies are viewed in terms of the
universal worker-~embodying all workers, but, in actuality,
embodying none.

Power related to bureaucratic organization is based on the few
with 'power over“ the many who are subordinate. Managers are the
middle-persons with much less power than those in overall control.
They, however, are empowered to enforce the rules and regulations
designed to keep the subordinates in place; service to clients is
secondary to the maintenance of the bureaucracy which controls and
regulates the behavior of the clients in order to maintain the power

of the few (Ferguson, 1984; Kanter, 1977).

 

57

Michel Foucault (1979) discusses the insidious nature of "power
over,” as it is implemented through a hierarchical and continuous
surveillance system. Through a network of power relations, control
is exercised throughout the bureaucratic hierarchy by supervisors
(managers) given the charge to supervise. As each supervisor
watches subordinates for rule infraction, the supervisors,
themselves, are under continuous surveillance; "supervisors
perpetually supervised" (p. 177).

Kathy Ferguson (1984) further notes that as one moves higher
in the organization, the more important ”impression management
skills" (p. 105) become. Relationships become less rule-governed,
and there is a greater expectation of intense loyalty to and
involvement with the organization. Because persons at higher levels
are more involved in decision-making that is not covered by rules
and, therefore, requires more personal judgment, demonstration of
loyalty to the organization is sought. Thus a successful image, one
that positively reflects the organization and its goals, must be
achieved in order to move upward. The more one mirrors those in the
upper echelon, both outwardly and in social and economic class, the
better chance one has of advancing.

The skills of impression management allow

subordinates to shape their images in such a way as to

approximate their supervisors. Given the impersonality

of the bureaucratic setting, outward manifestations of

trustworthiness take the place of direct personal

knowledge and managers fall back on social similarity

as a basis for trust. The more similarity there is in

outwardly identifiable characteristics, such as race,

sex, dress, language, and style, the more likely is an

aspirant to be seen as the ”right kind of person" and

given access to positions of discretion and power. Thus
the patterns of racial, sexual, and class

 

fig 44

 

58

stratification of the larger society are reproduced in

the organization. . . . Lower-class individuals, blacks

and Hispanics, and women all encounter immense

difficulties in breaking into the administrative ranks

because they are identifiably different, they clearly

do not "fit in," and their efforts to fit in are

stymied by their lack of familiarity with bureaucratic

discourse. (p. 106)

For women and minorities, bureaucratic organization not only
stratifies along socio-economic levels, but according to race and
gender as well.

Extrapolating this critique of bureaucracy in general to that
of schooling, I believe it would be accurate to say that the
bureaucracy of schooling is a political tool to maintain and further
the interests of the dominant class; that it has not been
conceptualized as a "tool for the pursuit of personal, group, or
class interests" (Fischer & Sirianni, 1984, p. 11); and that it is a
tool of 'power over,’ limiting and/or negating the value of
connection, interdependence, particularity, context, and,
ultimately, caring within community. For those reasons, a strand of

educational reformers and feminist thinkers propose an ethic of care

as the basis for school re-organization and re-structuring.

An Ethic of Care
Feminist scholars have given impetus to the development and
implementations of an ethic of care as a way of thinking about
school reform in more than a 'tinkering' fashion. That is, to think
about an ethic of care is to think about more than simply

re-arranging the same pieces of school organization differently and

 

 

 

 

59

saying that a reform has been wrought. It is to think differently
about the structure of society and about the distribution of power.
Attempting to function within an ethic of care is to think about
particulars as well as universals, about responsibilities as well as
rights, about connectedness as well as individualism, about the
concrete as well as the abstract, and about the contextual as well
as the general (Gilligan, 1982, 1983; Noddings, 1984, 1992;
Grimshaw, 1986; Fox-Genovese, 1991). An ethic of care would alter
significantly the power structure of schooling which, in turn, would
affect that of society in general. The following examination of
caring, specifically an ethic of care, provides a basis for
understanding the political importance of caring as an alternative

method of school organization.1

Women as Care-Givers
Feminists from a variety of disciplines write about caring and
an ethic of care as alternatives to bureaucracy in our social
institutions. They base much of their thinking on the history and
tradition of females as care-givers, and because of their own
experiences as women, they believe they knng what caring is (Fisher

& Tronto, 1990). They also draw on psychological data which

 

1Much has been written about an ethic of care; therefore, I
will discuss it and its tenets only briefly in order to lay a
foundation for the critique that follows. For a full background,

please see Gilligan (1982), In 5 Different Voice; Noddings (1984),
- thics and Mo 1 Educat on; Noddings

(1992), The Challenge to Care in Schools; An Altegnntive Approagh
W; or Brabeck (1989). W
W.

60

supports the notion that women see themselves in relation to others,
that is, in positions to serve others, or having primary
responsibility to others. (Baker Miller, 1976; Gilligan, 1982,
1983). Psychologists attribute the latter, not to natural instinct,
but to socialization (Chodorow, 1978; Baker Miller, 1976). Women
have been socialized to take care of others and have constructed
their identities in that light. They bring that identity from the
sphere of private life--home and family-~to public life--the
workplace.

Women have traditionally built a sense of

self-worth on activities that they can manage to define

as taking care of and giving to others. . . . This

situation is complex because even out of this

traditional setting a valuable tendency arises. Women,

more easily than men, can believe that any activity is

more satisfying when it takes place in the context of

relationships to other human beings--and even more so

when it leads to the enhancement of others. Women know

this experience in a way men do not. (Baker Miller, p.

53)

Although many feminist writers demure to call it a 'female' ethic of
care, the implication is that it is easier for women to care than
men (Baker Miller, 1976; Noddings, 1984, 1992; Gilligan, 1982;
Tronto, 1987; Tiger & Fox, 1984; Bettelheim, 1984).

Discussing an ethic of care, feminist thinkers often pose it as
complementary to and in tension with an ethic of justice, which
focuses on rules and principles, independency, autonomy, the
abstract and the universal. Feminists associate justice with males

who, in turn, use that ethic to judge all, including an ethic of

care. What is an ethic of care?

 

 

61

Tenets of an Ethic of Care
Feminist writers describe an ethic of care as a kind of moral
reasoning. The reasoning takes on the qualities of connection,
particularity of responsibility (the contextual), commitment, and

reciprocity.

Mien

An ethic of care is a way of moral reasoning that is contingent
on human relationships "sustained by a morality that protects
relationship--a morality whose essence lies in not abdicating
responsibility, in not breaching primary loyalties, in not giving
way to acrimony, in not deserting one another” Gilligan, 1983, p.
33). It implies connection, a web or circle (Noddings, 1984), of
relationships at its core. Responsibility to others in relation to
self results in interdependence rather than independence. Women,
particularly, feel responsibility to others as they encounter
dilemmas and find it difficult to meet their own needs at the
expense of others. .

May Sarton (1978), beautifully illustrates the importance and
tug of a web of relations on women's moral reasoning. In her book, .
A_Be§knn1ng, she follows a sixty—year old woman, Laura Spelman, from
her first learning about her inoperable cancer to her death. Laura,
finding out she has a limited time to live, is determined to die her
own way, that is, to live only doing the consequential things in her

life, and to do them as she chooses. Her initial reaction is not to

tell her family until her physical health requires her to do so.

62

She finds out, however, that all her decisions involving dying
involve a web of relationships-~her children and her sisters, each
seen as distinct individuals to be dealt with differently; her
mother, and her maiden aunt--that she cannot ignore, including the
web that exists to connect one to nature and the environment.

Yes, Laura thought, it's like a web. Whatever the
secret, the real connections, we are inextricably woven
into a huge web together, and detaching the threads,
one by one, is hideously painful. As long as one still
feels the tug, one is not ready to die. . . . But, she
reminded herself, the future is not my concern now. I
have to shut it out. Only the present moment can have
any real substance--so she looked again at the azalea
and noted what unusually large single blossoms it had,
and she felt that this looking, this still intense joy
in a flower, was her way of praising God. Outside the
human web, there was another far more complex and yet
not binding structure that included Grindle (her dog)
and the azalea and she herself, and in that she could
rest. (p. 183)

 

As Laura becomes progressively more ill and must be taken to
the hospital, she finds that making connections with the strangers
who 'care' for her is immensely important.

Of course the questions had to do only with
illness. By the time he was through this young man
would know all about her years'in the sanatorium, about
her hysterectomy, and about her damaged lungs--and that
is all he would know. Laura was amazed to discover
that she was struggling to make a connection on another
level. In a hospital one is reduced to being a body,
one's history is the body's history, and perhaps that
is why something deep inside a person reaches out, a
little like a spider trying desperately to find a
corner on which to begin to hang a web, the web of
personal relations. . . (p. 204)

 

2See Noodings (1984, 1992) for a discussion of human
relationships to animals, the environment, and man-made products.

 

 

 

63

She attempts to converse with the young doctor. In the course
of the conversation she tells him that she is dying. When his
cajoling does not move Laura from the seriousness of her intended
discussion with him, he rises from the chair telling her he must see
several more patients. Laura's thoughts are, "Of course to do their
work they couldn't afford to come in contact with a patient's soul.
There was always that out" (p. 205).

Throughout the novel, Laura attempts to die as an individual
not bound by others' wants and desires. She however is unable to
accomplish that, recognizing the needs of those within her web of
relationships and her responsibilities to them. As Laura's cancer
increasingly debilitates her, she says time and again that she must
acknowledge her growing dependency on others. I disagree with
Sarton's use of the term "dependency,” for I think there was
interdependence, as Laura's children and sisters continued to look
to her for a strength they needed in order to come to terms with her
dying. Laura was interdependent within a network of social
relationship.

The young intern, however, is an example of independence and
autonomy. He did not want to be drawn into a 'real' relationship
with Laura, even for a moment. His concern was to accomplish his
job of taking three more medical histories before his round of duty
ended, not to help a dying woman understand death.

Woman's connections to others, her circles of care, her web of
relationships, never leave her, even when she most thinks she wants

them to. Within an ethic of care, connection is the center of moral

64

reasoning. Her individuality is often subsumed in connection.
Regarding that, Gilligan (1982) notes that a woman achieves the
highest level of moral reasoning when she is able to reflectively
consider a situation and understand that there are times when she

must care for herself first.

0 t es

The ability to reflectively consider each situation, that is,
to study the particularity of context for each moral decision, is
paramount in an ethic of care. Unlike an ethic of justice,
universal rules and principles do not apply to an ethic of care. An
ethic of care is based in the specific context and in the concrete,
not in the universal and abstract. It revolves around
responsibilities and relationships rather than rights and rules.
Criteria for judgment need to be developed for each dilemma or
condition because of the impossibility of labeling any specific act
as universally or absolutely responsive to caring (Gilligan, 1984).

The morality of rules and principles can be dangerous, for with
each principle there is an exception (abortion is wrong unless the
mother's life is in danger). Additionally, principles lend
themselves to self-righteousness. Morality in an ethic of caring,
therefore, is contextual, emerging as more details are known about a
situation. An ethic of care, therefore, based on individual human
experiences is subject less and less to general rules and principles

the more details are known about a situation (Noddings, 1984).

 

 

65

Virtually everyone wants to be cared for, but not in the same
manner. "[E]veryone wants to be received, to elicit a response that
is congruent with an underlying need or desire” (Noddings, 1992, p.
17). An ethic of care suggests that although people may be in
similar situations they may choose different ways of handling their
particular circumstances.

Let us return to Sarton's Laura to illustrate caring in context
and not according to rules. Although Laura wanted to direct her
dying to suit herself, she acknowledged that she needed to inform
relatives sooner than she had intended because she realized they
were a part of her dying. However, she wanted to inform them as she
felt ready to deal with them on a deeply emotional level.

Her eldest sister, Jo, a highly successful academic, arrived
unannounced. After many attempts to open the door to understand Jo,
Laura finally asked,

”Why did you come, Jo?"

"After all, you are ill.”

"'Families are different,’ you said, earlier. And yet--forgive

me for being blunt--you must have intimate friends who are far

closer to you now than I. We haven't talked like this for

years.” Jo took a swallow of coffee and put the cup down. (p.

176) -

“Caring” for Laura and Jo are quite different. Jo lived by
rules and principles. One of the principles was that “one should
visit family when ill, and the ill member ought to wish to be
visited” (p. 181). Jo could not respond to Laura's inquiry with any

reason other than Laura was family and there are certain

expectations for all family members. If Jo had functioned within an

66

ethic of care, she would have called to find out if she were welcome
at that time. If Laura had declined her visit, Jo, from the
standpoint of an ethic of care, would not have come, despite the
universal expectations of family members in times of illness. She
also would have tried to understand Laura's perspective on her own
process of dying.

Perhaps a bit more difficult was Laura's 'caring' situation
with her doctor, whom she trusted and admired. The doctor had
premised Laura that she would live to see the spring. Knowing how
agonizing the hospital stay had been for her, the doctor arranged
for her son to carry her to the chaise in the garden after her
return home. Laura, too weak and sick, no longer wanted to leave
her bed. The doctor, however, neglected to see that, for he wanted
to keep his promise to her; keeping promises is an important
principle. Only after Laura had a severe coughing attack that
weakened her even further could the doctor see that he had not shown
care.

From the perspective of an ethic of care, there is no set of
principles, no recipe, for care. Caring is grounded in the daily
experiences and moral problems of real people; it is a way of being

in relation (Noddings, 1984; Gilligan, 1982; Tronto, 1987).

Comings;

Commitment is most important in an ethic of caring. The
commitment spoken of is not that one will be forever present in body

to the other, but that there is a joint 'knowing' or awareness of

67

caring between people. Caring involves "a commitment that is
stronger than the desire to run” (Beck, 1992). Caring requires
devotion, loyalty (Noddings, 1984).

The caring relationship may change over time, but the bond
remains. The form of caring or the circumstances may alter, but the
fact that one cares, that one is devoted, does not.

The longer one is committed to caring, accepting that it
demands responsibility, the more potential there is that one will
have to sacrifice. Sacrifice, however, enhances the experience of
the one making it. Gilligan (1982) and Noddings (1984) suggest that
women commit themselves to caring, and are willing to sacrifice in
order to care for others, but their sacrifice is devalued by a
patriarchal society that values individual actions that lead to

accomplishment more than nurturing (Beck, 1992).

W

In order for a caring relationship to be complete, both
care-giving and care-receiving are necessary. Noddings (1984)
discusses the characteristics associated with each of those
positions. The care-giver is distinguished by engrossment
(attention) and motivational displacement (apprehension of the
care-receiver's needs and desires from her perspective) for the
care-receiver. Noddings indicates that as long as the caring
occurs--from moments to long durations of time--the care-giver
really sees, hears, and feels what the other wants to convey. That

is followed by motivational displacement. The care-giver

68

understands what the care-receiver conveys and responds in a way
that enhances the other's goals or objectives.

To realize the relationship as caring, the receiver must
acknowledge receipt of the care offered. This is done in two ways.
The receiver acknowledges and responds to the care-giver's
particular form of attention, and she shares herself in relation to
that which was offered, enabling the care-giver to continue
contributing support to her efforts. Acceptance of caring is natural
if it is consistent--congruent--with the care-receiver's needs.

It is also natural for the care-giver to accept the,
care-receiver's gift of responsiveness. It is, however,
inconsistent with caring to demand responsiveness from the other.
”The one-caring is motivated in the direction of the cared-for and
she must, therefore, respect her freedom. She meets her as
subject-~not as an object to be manipulated. . . ." (p. 72). The
care-giver's response allows the receiver to grow in freedom in the
wide support of caring, that is, the care-giver strives to respond
in ways compatible to the care-receiver's needs and understandings
of care. For the caring relation to be complete, the importance of
the acknowledgment of caring by both the care-giver and
care-receiver is the reality of being in relation. That is, the
care-receiver may not acknowledge the care received through words or
actions, but because she and the care-giver are in relation, they
know, understand, feel the reciprocity of the caring, whether

through a smile or trust that the care has been accepted.

69

What happens if the care offered is not consistent with the
care-receiver's needs or wants? Is it possible to still have a
fulfilled caring relationship? Noddings explains that if the
relationship must be maintained because of formal or long-term
expectations (parent/child, teacher/student, doctor/patient) the
cared-for must respond to the care-giving. In those kinds of
relationships, the cared-for acknowledges the ”wisdom and
motivational displacement of the one-supposed-caring" (p. 75) for
she does ”things to us and for us for our own good" (p. 75). The
response is one of respect and obedience.

If, however, the motives of care are actually such that the
care-giver wants/needs to be cared—for, that is, the care-giver
demands response from the care-receiver to satisfy her own needs,
then the latter is in an intolerable position.

It is easy to see that, in dependent relations,

the greater responsibility belongs to the one-caring.

As soon as the cared-for must consider the needs and

motives of the one-caring, he becomes one-caring

himself or he falls into a life of inauthenticity or he

becomes an ethical hero-~one who behaves as though

cared-for without the sustenance of caring. (p. 76)

There are two ways of dealing with such a situation. She may
act as cared-for out of self-interest, expecting "others to be
engrossed in [her], shar[ing] spontaneously to promote [her] own
ego, and grow[ing] in [her] nonethical dimensions without even
considering the relation" (p. 77). That response may eventually lead

to the care-giver's realization of the irrelevance of caring and

withdrawing.

70

On the other hand, she may respond to the needs of the
care-giver by consciously giving up her place as care-receiver and
from concern for the care-giver behave as cared-for. This response,
if done without reflectiveness, may tarnish the ideal of an ethic of
care by promoting a false relationship. If, however, the cared-for
”maintains an intellectual doubt concerning the relation" (p. 76)
and, therefore, interprets the care-giver's each move of caring in
its best light and every response in the way it should be meant,
then the cared-for may assume that "the lack of feeling is (or may
be) a lack in the cared-for or a result of accident or a product of
too much effort--or anything that preserves the one-caring as
one-caring (p. 77).

To illustrate the reciprocity of care let us again turn to
Laura and the people who intended to be care-givers to her. As
- Laura grew weaker, she experienced a need to have someone sit with
her. Mary, the woman.hired to help her, was experienced in taking
care of dying persons. She understood Laura's need and offered to
stay in the room.with her. Mary's caring was to bring her mending
and to sit unobtrusively, not talking, but responding to Laura
according to Laura's needs. Laura rejoiced in that care. Caring was
reciprocal in the way Laura took Mary's hand or smiled at her when
she sat quietly doing her work.

Laura's children, however, continually wanted to be with Laura
and to talk with her, to do. Their 'offers' of care were really
efforts to be cared-for; they needed her dependence on them in order

to feel they were doing something to help her through her illness.

 

71

Laura's first response was annoyance and anger that they were NOT
caring for her. She, after reflecting on her position and theirs,
became in Noddings' term, the ethical heroine. She accepted-—and
took responsibility--for the care offered and responded to her
children as the one-cared-for. She allowed her youngest son to sit
with her and initiated conversation when she knew he was
uncomfortable in the silence. She, beyond the need or desire for
such things, genuinely responded to her daughter's need to play the
guitar and sing for her. All the while, Laura was conscious of the
relationship and how she was responding. The critical point is that
she sought to maintain the relationships, seeing the intended
care-givers in the best light possible.

The above is the fundamental basis on which feminist thinkers
and educational reformers wish to change organizational theory in
order for schools and other institutions in society to become caring
places. I based my discussion of an ethic of care on my
understanding of prominent feminist thinkers' works. Note that the
emphasis was on the individual's caring for another individual.
Schooling, however, involves a collection of individuals that needs
to be cared for as a whole, as well as for its unique members. I ask
you to keep that in mind as you read the following section which
examines issues problematic to an ethic of caring and, therefore, to
its acceptance and implementation as the foundation for

organizational theory.

 

 

72

Critique of an Ethic of Caring

This critique focuses on an ethic of care in light of
educational reform. My particular concern is educational reform
involving a change in school organization and leadership. I will
examine particular aspects of an ethic of care from a feminist
perspective and apply those analyses to organizational and
leadership reform. My argument is that an ethic of care is thought
about primarily from a personal standpoint, that is, what 'a' person
needs to know and do in order to be a caring person. I believe,
however, that as an educational reform measure, an ethic of care
requires a vision of 'collective' effort, involving support and
resources that individual persons either could not provide, or could
do so only on a limited basis.

Such a vision would require thinking about the relation of
caring to power, as the reality is an ethic of caring would be
created within the context of a bureaucracy, a hierarchy of power.
Within that context, we need to think about how caring will be
defined, whose caring it will be, whether it will be simply another
way to maintain the dominant interests, or whether it will replace
one form of oppression with another. We also need to consider
whether caring is separate from power and, if not, what is the
relationship and what effect will that have on school organization
as bureaucracy. An 'ethic' of care pondered from those perspectives
quickly becomes a 'politics' of care.

The issues discussed and questions I pose in this chapter are

intended to stimulate the reader to think about the implementation

 

 

73

of an ethic of care as a collective effort, one involving power and
politics. I ask the reader, then to think about these questions and
your own as you read Chapters Four and Five telling the story of
Division High's valiant, yet painful, attempts to become a caring
community.

In this chapter, my focus is on the following aspects of an
ethic of care: caring as women's work, connection, community, and
reciprocal. I also discuss caring as having different understandings
depending on one's cultural background. Throughout all of these
topics, I attempt to show the need to move beyond caring from an

individual perspective to that of a collective concern.

Caring as WDmen's Work

An ethic of care is very often viewed as a "female ethic"
(Grimshaw, 1986, p. 196) for traditionally and historically women
have been the care-givers in our society (Fox-Genovese, 1991;
Arendt, 1958). Feminist thinkers, subsequently, suggest that women's
lives provide the space to question values that see human lives as
dispensable in the service of abstract ideas or causes; see caring
for others or devoting one's life to serving others as relatively
unimportant; and see the responsibilities of maintaining human life
and nurturing connections as sharply distinct from and inferior to
the affairs of the public world (Grimshaw, 1986). Understanding an
ethic of care from that perception presents several problematic

issues.

 

74

There is a tension between caring and other values in society,
specifically, individualism, autonomy, rationalism, and competition.
Caring is devalued, despite the fact that "human existence requires
care from others and such caring is an important part of life"
(Fisher & Tronto, 1990, p. 35). It is associated with women's work,
which has been relegated to the private sphere of society (Finch &
Groves, 1983; Tronto, 1987; Graham, 1983; Elshtain (1981; Jagger,
1983; Hartsock, 1984; Brown, 1982). As such, it has virtually no
place in the description of the 'good life' which provides the focus
for Western philosophy--autonomous, rational, and public (Fisher &
Tronto, 1990). In discussions of caring, the focus tends to be on
the carer rather than on the act of caring. Major among the reasons
for this are

. the tremendous fund of everyday experience
that women especially have concerning caring. This
experience encourages us to think that we already
”know” what caring is. 'The second [reason] is the
absence of a strong secular tradition in which to
conceptualize caring. The liberal tradition in Western
philosophy centers on a world view in which the
rational, autonomous man accomplishes his life plan in
the public realm. This tradition assumes a theory of
self in which people are isolated, in which the self is
prior to its activities and to its connections with
others. From such a perspective, people need to be
activated in order to be purposeful and goal-directed;
hence, the question of motivation to act becomes a
central philosophical issue. It also assumes that the
caring needed to sustain these activities somehow will
get done, if not by oneself, then by slaves, women, or
lower-class, or lower-caste people. (Fisher and Tronto,
1990, p. 36)

[For the remainder of this discussion, I ask the reader to include
“lower-class," ”lower-caste," that is, minority peoples, in their

thinking as I discuss caring in relation to females. I believe that

75

feminist literature struggling to determine and find an equitable
place for females in our society traditionally developed,
maintained, and dominated by white males, can--and should--be used
to work toward the alleviation and elimination of oppression for all
who are oppressed. Consequently, though the literature I draw on may
deal specifically with women, I think of these issues as
encompassing a much broader range of peoples.]

Caring conceptualized in that manner maintains modern
societies' world vision of a sexual division of labor: men are
autonomous and rational and motivated to accomplish purposeful,
formal, and paid activates in the public domain; women are dependent
and caring, ministering to the needs of family and building and
maintaining relationships, unpaid. In other words, there is a public
and private division in society evidenced by ”men-who-do” and
”women-who-care” (Graham, 1983, p. 23). That sets up a dichotomy,
determining what counts as 'caring" by who does it as much as by,
what is done. In turn, such a dichotomy contributes to primary
defining characteristics of women's and men's self-identity and
work: women are 'caring,' and men are 'not-caring'; women are to
focus on others and men are to focus on themselves (Graham, 1983;
Baker Miller, 1976).

Unfortunately, the latter contributes to a polarization by
feminists of idealized feminine private virtues and a corrupt male
public world. Such a view

. supposes that women can remain quite
unchanged and it does not ask whether women's

powerlessness and dependence might not have led to
distortions in the idea of female virtue which both

 

76

worked against women's interests and misrepresented any

particular capacities or insights that they might have;

it also supposes that men are 'naturally' corrupt.

(Grimshaw, 1986, p. 200)

Considering the implementation of an ethic of care with that
dichotomy and perception makes me question how nurturing can take
place in relationships that are not intimate or private. That is,
if caring is separate from the public world, how does one think
about nurturing in terms of broad educational policy? Can women
remain "unchanged” as they function in the public world? Should
they?

There is also the danger with such a polarization of simply
substituting one oppressive form of dominance with another. If
males are seen as 'naturally' corrupt, and females as 'virtuous,’

will an ethic of caring attempt to reverse the current oppressors

and oppressed?3

 

35her1 Tepper's (1983) W is a grand

illustration of a hypothetical situation where women ran the
country. In this science fiction novel, the women and men live in
separate but contiguous villages joined by the gate to the women's
country. Women support and govern both. The men spend their lives
preparing for their war games, while the women educate themselves
and do all that is necessary to maintain and support the villages.
The women dole out supplies, including food, clothing, and household
needs, to the males. When the men are ill, they provide medicine
and medical attention. However, when the men return from a war, the
women give them only water, refusing to attend to their wounds for
war is against the women's principles. The women will not allow men
books, believing that the males' propensity for physical combat
prevents them from being caring and thoughtful towards others and
the group. Although the women did not engage in physical abuse
among themselves, they did, however, use emotional measures to
control the women in the country. Thus, I do question whether
women, given major power, would resist oppressing others.

77

Some feminist thinkers interpret women's propensity for
caring--not as a genetic trait, but as a socially constructed
characteristic (Gilligan, 1982; Noddings, 1984; Chodorow, 1978)--as
a positive dimension in their lives, despite its devaluation by the
patriarchal structure of society. Others, however, view the
relationship between women and caring as oppressive because of its
complexity. Emphasis is put on the psychological aspects of caring--
connection, relationship, interdependence, commitment, and
community. Yet, little consideration is given to the fact that
caring is often time-consuming, difficult and unpleasant, and a
collective effort (Ungerson, 1983; Fisher & Tronto, 1990). In the
patriarchal family, caring is reduced to an obligatory transaction
of goods and services, leaving women defined in terms of female
sacrifice and supreme selflessness (Graham, 1983). In the
marketplace, women are expected to care for their families, yet are
devalued when they do. Consider the following.

It is difficult for caring to be a collective effort when the
marketplace does not value caring. It discourages role reversal,
that is, making home and family top priority, but encourages females
to give priorities to home responsibilities. (Ungerson, 1983).

Doing so is a way of returning women back to the home and,
therefore, reclaiming the public domain solely for males.

Recently, the Congress passed the Family and Medical Leave Act,
legislation designed to allow people, male and female, unpaid leave
for the birth of a child, ”after an adoption, to care for a

seriously ill family member, or if their own health condition makes

 

78

them unable to perform their jobs” ("Family leave," 1993). In this
time of financial instability, unemployment, and multitudinous
lay-offs, including white collar workers, those who take advantage
of this bill are often seen as not serious about their work. Marcia
Kropf, director of a non-profit organization to promote changes in
the workplace for women, commented, "This is one reason why men
rarely reduce their working hours or take leave to help their
families. . . . Family leave has often meant maternity leave and is
seen as a women's thing” (quoted in ”Family leave," 1993).

Heidi Hartmann, director of the Institute for Women's Policy
Research, however, counters that in a family emergency when there is
no choice, women, particularly, will be able to take leave without
fear of losing their jobs. But, there is mounting evidence that
employers are choosing not to hire women or are finding reasons to
sever employment when they teke extended leave (Stahl, 1993). Mary
Reed, legislative representative at the National Federation of
Independent Businesses, concretely points out the market devaluation
of caring with her comments about the potential long-range impact of
the Family and Medical Leave Act: "Small employers are going to be
less likely to employ women of child-bearing years and more likely
to cut the number of low-skilled jobs” (quoted in ”Family leave,"
1993).

Caring as a collective effort is problematic. Our societal
norms reflect an attitude of women 'care' and men 'do.’ Arendt
(1958) pointed out that in the prepolitical society of Greece, the

home was the place to which men returned to revitalize themselves

79

after the challenges of the public life. Such an attitude exists in
the United States today. Women are expected to forge and maintain
the connections within the family. Through those strong connections
of caring, however, dependency results, not because women receive
care, but because they give care (Graham, 1983). If women can be
convinced it is their responsibility to be the primary-~or
sole--care-givers, the public domain will remain male dominated and
controlled, thereby, keeping women from making significant progress
in public life. The result is women's continued dependency on men.

Consider the following comment by noted psychologist, Bruno
Bettelhiem (1984) on the place of men in the family in modern
society.

The fulfillment of manhood is achieved by making a
contribution to society as a whole, an impulse which is
quickened when a responsible man becomes a father.

Without a child, there seems little reason why a man

should wish to perpetuate society, to plan beyond the

reaches of his life; why he should plant trees, the

fruits of which will not ripen while he can still enjoy

them. But the relationship between father and child

never was and cannot now be built principally around

child-caring experiences. It is built around a man's

function in society: moral, economic, political. (p.

308)

One can say that Bettelheim is conservative, but, then, what
are our nation's schools? Implementing an ethic of care in schools
will require thought about meeting the challenges of those parents
and staff who do not want the private world of caring (female)
infringing on the public work of doing (male).

An ethic of caring, however, presumes an integration of men

into women's caring work, thus, making caring as valuable as other

80

activities. It requires that the ”worthiness" (Fisher & Tronto,
1990, p. 36) of caring be recognized. That presumption assumes that
those who have traditionally relegated caring to life's private
domain desire to recognize it as essential to the public domain. If
schools are to be reformed through an ethic of caring, such a
reforming ”is dependent on a transforming, and on a challenging of
the sharp distinction between a public and a private ethic”
(Grimshaw, 1986, p. 203). The question is, is there a tension of
new needs that is great enough to motivate people for change,
however painful? If not, change is unlikely, for "a transvaluation
of values can only be accomplished when there is a tension of new
needs and a new set of needy people who feel all old values as
painful although they are not conscious of what is wrong” (Daly,
1973, as quoted in Grimshaw, 1986, p. 155). Do men, as well as
women, feel a need for interdependence and connection which causes
tension with the need for independence and autonomy?

Change, however, does not necessarily come with recognition.
It may lead to ignoring the ”oppressive and oppression-linked” (p.
36) aspects of caring and, therefore, reinforces what is already
perceived as women's work. An ethic of caring may only serve to
reinforce the current structure. For instance, will more females be
'awarded' positions as principals so they may administer an ethic of
caring determined by male superiors? And will the position of
'principal' become devalued in the long term?

The latter is particularly poignant at this time. There is

asymmetry between responsibility and power, not only between

 

81

positions in the institutional hierarchies, but between males and
females in the same or similar positions, and between care-givers
and care-receivers. In the case of principals, where responsibility
is great, but power limited, will females, more than males, be
expected to compensate for the deficiencies in the caring process?
Will female principals be given the "toughest" schools--those with
the least resources and those needing the most care--and expected to
accomplish as much or more because they are encouraged--perhaps,
mandated—~to create a caring atmosphere that is monitored through
bureaucratic practices?

School resources continue to become particularly scarce.
Having/not having material resources may dictate what we choose to
care/not care about. Limitations in time, knowledge, skills, and
resources impinge on what we will care about, forcing us to make
choices. As a foundation for school reform, an ethic of caring does
not seem to address the concrete dilemmas from an organizational
perspective. Questions, such as the following, are but a few that
may plague those within the midst of change: Who will make those
choices? What will the relationship of responsibility to power and
authority be? What role will the care-receiver have in the choice
of what she needs and wants? How will the care-giver and
care-receiver be allowed to function together? apart? What if the
care-givers' and care-receivers' conceptions of needs are
contradictory? Consider the Family Leave Act. Many care-receivers
cannot afford to take an unpaid leave and would prefer to have

on-site daycare. Would principals be able to provide that? Or would

 

 

 

82

their power be limited to abiding by the higher echelon
determination of what caring is, which may simply perpetuate the
system? Caring is labor-intensive, time-consuming, and often
contradictory. Who will have the power to determine its value?

Furthermore, these who advocate an ethic of caring in schools
fail to acknowledge that the requirements of an ethic of justice,
that is, one which implies universal rights, rules, and impartiality
(Gilligan, 1983), govern our school systems. They traditionally
have set the boundaries for what is acceptable as caring in the

public sphere (Tronto, 1987)

. insofar as the boundaries of the private (in
this case, private morality as expressed by care) are
set by the categories and definitions of the public (in
this case, public morality, that is, the ethic of
justice), that which is relegated to the private is not
judged on its own terms. Private morality is not
perceived as independent of the "more important" public
realm. It is by nature dependent and secondary. (PP.
454-455)

In essence, feminists neglect to address the reality that privileged
males will judge what is useful, important, and what needs changing.
And, the policies to implement an ethic of care, no doubt, would be
standardized in order to ”fit" the bureaucracy.

All of these questions concern extending the boundaries of
caring, which is very important. In order to fully address that,
however, it is necessary to examine the aspect of "connectedness" as

an integral part of caring, for the boundaries of caring cannot be

separated from relationships and connection.

83

Caring as Connection

Connection is a major tenet of an ethic of care. As a balance
to extreme individualism and autonomy, it is necessary.
Relationship is essential to living fully as a human being and to
developing viable communities. But there is also a negative side to
connectedness. Seeing oneself only in relation to others is
problematic because connection may be a way of promoting illusory
. expectations or a way of escaping from old forms of coercion and
constraint only to fall into new ones (Grimshaw, 1986).

An ethic of caring within schools would have the potential of
giving women the illusion of power while continuing to oppress them.
Those in power positions, usually males, may agree to the need for
caring within their schools. Rather than their integrating
themselves into the work of caring, they may pander to the women's
egos as 'natural' care-givers. Female teachers and/or
administrators, understanding the importance of caring and willing
to work at it regardless of the time and effort required,4 are
delighted that males are finally recognizing their contributions to
society. The men, on the other hand, will be the 'doers' because
they got the job done, that is, they made the decision to implement
an ethic of caring and saw that it was accomplished.

Women may become inextricably connected to others, unable to
separate themselves from the act of caring. The latter may result

in caring becoming a burden, done out of obligation in order to meet

 

48ee Samuel G. Freedman's book, Sngll Viggggies of Ieggbers Who
Mugsh-

 

 

 

84

socially constructed norms, one of which is woman as care-giver
(Ungerson, 1983; Fisher & Tronto, 1990). Meeting those norms may
even be done in self-defense; that is, if women do not conform to
the expectations set for them, the assumption is that something is
'wrong' with them. Women are expected to care, to live their lives
in connection with others. If they do not, they are selfish,
self—centered, or out of sync with society's norms; there is
something wrong, not with the norms, but with the women. Marilyn
Frye (1983), writing about the relationship of women to men, could
very well be writing about expectations of not only men, but of
family and of the larger society for women to care.
The arrogant perceiver's expectation creates in

the space about him a sort of vacuum mold into which

the other is sucked and held. But the other is not

sucked into his structure always, nor always without

resistance. In the absence of his manipulation, the

other is not organized primarily with reference to his

interests. To the extent that she is not shaped to his

will, does not fit the Conformation he imposes, there

is friction, anomaly or incoherence in his world. To

the extent that he notices this incongruity, he can

experience it in no other way than as something wrong
with her. His perception is arrogating; his senses

tell him that the world and everything in it . . . is
in the nature of things there for'him, that she is by
her constitution and telos his servant. . . . If

woman does not serve man, it can only be because he is
not a sufficiently skilled master or because there is
something wrong with the woman. He may try to manage
things better, but when that fails he can only conclude
that she is defective: unnatural, flawed, broken,
abnormal, damaged, sick. (p. 69)

People of non-European backgrounds and heritages also are
subject to feelings of having to live up to the dominant culture's
expectations of them. Studies conducted.by Ogbu (1988) Peshkin and

White (1990), and Olsen (1988) show the effects that expectations of

85

the white, middle class have on the lives of minority students. In
virtually all cases, not living up to the dominant cultures'
expectations implies, not difference, but deviance, inferiority.
Therefore, these persons often feel compelled to make choices
regarding who they are. They are often pressured to stop
caring--for their cultures, their family values--in order to become
'connected' to the dominant culture. Like women, they are asked to
sacrifice themselves to fit the norms of the larger society.

Will an ethic of care be enacted to allow for administrators
and teachers, majority and minority peoples, to uncover the now
unspoken grievances against one another? Or will the web of
relationships, the connections that divide administrators from
teachers and majority from minority persons into relationships of
inequality be maintained, thus preventing caring? Will an ethic of
care become the rationale for developing hatred and dislike of
differences?

Within a framework of inequality the existence of
conflict is denied and the means to engage openly in

conflict are excluded. Further, inequality itself

creates additional factors that skew any interaction

and prevent open engagement around real differences.

Instead, inequality generates hidden conflict around

elements that the inequality itself has set in motion.

In sum, both sides are diverted from open conflict

around falsifications. For this hidden conflict, there

are no acceptable social forms or guides because this

conflict supposedly doesn't exist. (Baker Miller, 1976,

p. 13)

An ethic of care presumes connections, but, perhaps, those

connections may be forged only through 'caring conflicts.’ There is

little to suggest that an ethic of care as an educational reform

 

86

measure provides for concrete thinking about the relationships
between and among teachers, administrators, and other staff members.
Such relationships require caring on a collective basis, as well as
on an individual one. An ethic of care appear to be cast primarily
from the perspective of an individual's caring; as a foundation for
reform, it needs to be thought of from the perspective of
collectives, that is, groups of people within a school, as well as
the entire population of a school.

Living in connection can also mean living through another, not
living one's own life, but a Quixotian existence. Grimshaw (1986)
describes this kind of connectedness as 'mapping' others' needs and
feelings, as one understands them, on to oneself, trying to identify
with them. She uses as an example, a wife who lives through her
husband, therefore connecting with him. To her detriment--and
his--she denies her own existence. Caring becomes self-sacrifice
rather than fulfillment.

Psychological data also suggest that women may find
satisfaction only in activities they can rationalize as serving
others. Jean Baker Miller (1976) forcefully indicated the degree to
which that occurs, saying that ”many women truly cannot tolerate or
allow themselves to feel that their life activities are for
themselves” (p. 62). Thus, they spend their lives finding ways to
translate their own motivations into means of serving others. They
believe that by devoting their lives to serving others, they will be
loved and respected. The result is often the reverse: others resent

their super-human efforts, feeling trapped and controlled.

 

 

87

Connectedness, in that sense, becomes power, a power that controls
and manipulates others.

Exploring caring as control, Grimshaw (1986) referred to L.D.
Laing's Sanigy, Madness, and the Family.5 Through her discussion of
this study, Grimshaw pointed out the dark side of connectedness.

The mothers described in Sanity, Madness and the

Family are 'connected' to their daughters, in that they

see them simply as a projection of a family 'phantasy'

or of their own beliefs and desires. And they are also

unable to imagine or conceive of the 'separateness' of

their daughters . . . the result of this was that, far

from being able to 'empathize' with their daughters,

the mothers showed an almost total inability to

understand what they were thinking and feeling. (p.

181, 182)

Part of being connected is to be separate from. Unlike the
dichotomy of connectedness and separateness that feminists often use
to describe human relationships, care for others requires
understanding oneself and having the ability to distinguish 'self'
from 'other.’ To be able to care is to know oneself, to understand
where oneself begins and ends in order not to see others as a

"projection of self, or self as a continuation of the other"

(Grimshaw, 1986, p. 183). To care is to relate and to separate

 

5This is a case study of eleven women who had been diagnosed as
schizophrenic. The book documents their cases primarily through
transcripts of interviews with the women themselves and with members
of their families, especially their parents. Grimshaw discusses
this book in some detail, noting that ”what really happened, Laing
Showed, was that absolutely any attempts to achieve any form of
independence from parental control or wishes were interpreted as
'bad'; all attempts at autonomy were blocked. The progression from
'badness' to 'madness' was a result of the failure to achieve any
sort of autonomy. . . . But the really crucial thing which lay
behind this failure was not just the fact of parental control, but
the ways (largely unconscious [emphasis mine]) by which this was
achieved” (p. 177).

 

88

simultaneously (Arendt, 1958). On the other hand, an unclear or
idealized vision of connectedness can lead to coerciveness and the
denial of the needs of individuals to forge their own paths to
develop their own understandings and goals (Grimshaw, 1986).

In a passage from ”In and Out of Harm's Way," Frye (1983)
describes ”the loving eye" as being separate from the one she cares
about and for. Caring occurs because she knows herself and knows
that she will see the other with her own eye

. the loving perceiver can see without the
presupposition that the other poses a constant threat
or that the other exists for the seer's service; nor
does she see with the other's eye instead of her own.
Her interest does not blend the sear and the seen.

One who sees with a loving eye is separate from the
other whom she sees. There are boundaries between
them; she and the other are two. . . The loving eye is
one that pays a certain sort of attention. This
attention can require a discipline but not a
self-denial. The discipline is one of self-knowledge,
knowledge of the scope and boundary of the self. What
is required is that one know what are one's interests,
desires and loathings, ene's projects, hungers, fears
and wishes, and that one know what is and what is not
determined by these [emphasis mine]. In particular, it
is a matter of being able to tell one's own interests
from those of others and of knowing where one's self
leaves off and another begins. (pp. 74, 75)

The focus of an ethic of care in schools is usually on caring
for students, which is as it should be. But, teachers need to
understand themselves, their "scope and boundary," before they can
begin to deal with the culture, values, and lifestyles the children
bring to their classes. If the staff is not reflective about
themselves and what they believe, it does not seem likely that they

will be reflective about the differences their students present.

89

In a longitudinal study of social class and teacher
expectations, Ray Rist (1970) found that a kindergarten teacher's
expectations affected the academic placement of her students, not
only in kindergarten, but each succeeding year. Some of these
children were irreparably hurt academically because they did not
meet dress, language, or hygiene expectations. Her expectations
were not based on 'objective' evidence, but on her background,
experiences, and lifestyle, all contributing to her idea of what a
'good' student should be.

Persons coming from the perspective of the dominant culture,
unless they are able to step back to become consciously aware of
their own assumptions, may not be able to separate themselves from
their students. The result would be to expect the student to have
the same values and concerns as they have. The implementation of an
ethic of care will need to provide opportunities for staff members
to connect with themselves; to see themselves as separate from each
other and from their students. Only when they are able to see the
students as different from themselves, may they begin to care.
However given that most top-level administrators are male, will
there be support, that is, time, for the nurturance of teachers and
‘administrators to reflect on their own values? Will caring be

valued enough to merit the time and money allocated to schools?

Caring as Community
Community is closely aligned to connection and is another tenet

of an ethic of caring. Some educational reformers believe that

90

building community within and around schools is a necessity if our
schools are to survive and students to benefit from them (Goodlad,
1988, 1990; Holmes Group, 1986, 1988; Noddings, 1992).

Community arises from a web--or circles--of relationships, that
is, relationships that extend from those most intimate to us to
those we do not know yet. An ethic of care presumes that our web of
relationships begins with those most intimate to us. And, as
Noddings (1984) points out, there comes a point at which "an ethic
of caring limits our obligation to those so far removed from us that
completion (of caring) is impossible" (p. 152). She goes on to
explain:

Painful as it is to give up romantic notions of
loving everyone, we see that we must in order to care
adequately for anyone. Further, there is, again, a way
in which we may respond to those too far removed for
caring to be activated directly and completed. When
human beings call out for help, it is obligatory for
those in proximity to respond. Those in contiguous
circles [from intimate to unknown personages] must
respond. If they cannot find the material resources to
respond adequately, they must address the next circle
and entreat aid. Eventually, the cry for help may be
heard directly in my own circle. Then I must respond,
and I must then depend upon the one who seeks my help
to be thoroughly honest and responsible, both in his
translation of the initial cry for help and in what he
does with the material aid I pass along through him. My
obligation is met when my caring is completed in this
other who entreats me in direct encounter. Only a
chain of trust links me to the faraway other. (p. 153)

From that passage, there are two salient points regarding an
ethic of caring. The first relates to caring for students.
Noddings (1992) speaks about students not necessarily belonging in
the most intimate circle, but still in a relationship to the teacher

that is, ideally, close. However, will teachers whose students are

 

91

not of their own backgrounds, cultures, and values be able to relate
closely to them? Or will the teachers, using an ethic of caring as
a basis by which to ”address the next circle and entreat aid," find
an excuse for continuing not to address the needs of children they
do not instinctively relate to, hoping that some "other" teacher or
staff person will take up the job? This dilemma brings us to the
second point which returns us to a topic introduced earlier, the
extent to which the boundaries of caring should be enlarged.

Realistically, we do not care equally for all people. We care
most for those with whom we have most in common emotionally,
physically, and/or culturally because it is 'natural' and
comfortable. We can relate to like people with little, if any,
effort. If connection and preserving a web of relationships is
fundamental to an ethic of care, there is little basis for critical
reflection on whether those relationships are good, healthy, or
worth saving because we begin with our own webs, which we have
already accepted as good and worthy. An ethic of care, then, ”could
become a defense of caring only for one's own family, friends,
group, nation. From this perspective, caring could become a
justification for any set of conventional relationships" (Tronto,
1987, pp. 559-560). By not reflecting on the connections, the web--
or circles--of relationships, dislike and hatred of differences may
grow.

Again, reformers need to consider the implementation of an
ethic of care in terms of school staff needs and education, and from

a larger perspective than the individual. If an ethic of care is to

 

92

be modeled and practiced as Noddings (1992, 1984) suggests, then it
would seem reasonable to expect that teachers, administrators, and
other staff will have to know how to care for each other; they will
have to know how to model caring to persons not of their own
cultures and values; they, perhaps, will need to be taught.

The notion of building community in schools raises issues that
are often contradictory, especially those concerning individualism
and connection. In recent years, there has been much emphasis on
altering schools and curriculum to encourage and support females and
minorities to recognize their individuality and to reach their
individual potentials. If community building becomes the focus,
what will it take to resolve the dilemma of maintaining a clear
sense of one's own identity and individualism while concurrently
embedding it in relationships with others? (Grimshaw, 1986;
Fox-Genovese, 1991) If a school's vision of connectedness is
ambiguous or idealized, will the expectations for community or for
harmony among the people within it be unrealistic? If the latter
results, will there be denial of the needs of others to "forge their
own path and develop their own understanding and goals"? (Grimshaw,
1991, p. 183) Ultimately, will there be a loss of individuality?

Finally, there is the issue of self-interest and altruism
related to forming a caring community. As background, consider
Fox-Genovese's (1991) discussion of women and community. Women's
commitment to building community is associated with their tendency
to define themselves in relation to others and in the particular,

rather than as individualistic and abstract. Ironically, however,

 

93

women's experience historically has been in individualistic
societies and cultures, in other words, in unique family
communities. That is, although they were excluded from public life
and its achievement values of individualism, it is quite possible
they achieved empowerment from their ascribed position--creating a
sense of belonging and bonding-~within families, the basic units of
communities. By so doing, they chance falling into a ”sentimental"
(p. 39) conception of community. "In this conception, community is
viewed as, in some sense, internal to the motivations and identities
of the participants-~a product of their commitment. This conception
differs from a more instrumental or contractual view of community in
attributing affiliation to benevolence or even identity rather than
to instrumental self-interest . . .” (pp. 39-40). In modern
society, women are strongly encouraged to be the care-givers. The
question is, did/do women work at building community from altruistic
reasons, or from self-interest, seeking empowerment by meeting the
expectations of the 'ascriptive values of the community”?
(Fox-Genovese, 1991, p. 45) Or, perhaps from both? Returning to a
question posed earlier in this critique of an ethic of care, is it
possible for women to remain 'unchanged' as they enter the public
sphere?

Building community may solely be done out of self-interest. An
ethic of caring, implemented for political purposes, may be used to
further self-interest under the guise of creating community when, in
fact, it becomes a means for furthering one's own interests and

ideologies. Claims of caring may be used ideologically in order to

 

94

mask more fundamental objectives. Take, for instance, union
activities. Some local teachers' unions have set a cap on the number
of students that can be enrolled in a class. On one hand this is a
caring act, both for the students and for the teachers. Students
learn better when there are fewer in the class and teachers can
devote more time to each student. There are instances, however,
when teachers choose to allow 'extra' students into the c1ass--a
student will stay in school if allowed to enroll in a particular
teacher's class (Freedman, 1990); or adding two students to all
teachers' classes (in a school where a fourth to a third absenteeism
for classes is the norm) would free teachers to hold in-school
suspension, thus, keeping students in school rather than sending
them home or, more likely out on the streets (see Chapter 5). One
would question whether the union is considering the students'
interests, that is caring for students, or is concerned about
maintaining its power within the bureaucracy.

One could question whether Joe Clark, the infamous principal in
New Jersey, operated out of caring for the students or out of
concern for his moving up the bureaucratic ladder. In both
instances—-the union situation and Joe Clark's activities--the
judgment is not clear-cut. Perhaps one needs to examine whether the
claims or accusations of failure to care are actually diversions
from injustices and oppression that plague us, or ways to conceal
intentions--gaining power, for instance--that have nothing to do

with care (Grimshaw, 1986).

 

 

95

In modern society where there is tension between the sensed
need for community and the strong tradition of individualism
(Bellah, et a1., 1985), it is possible for "community” to be created
to serve the bureaucracy's own needs using the rhetoric of an ethic
of care which those at the base of the ”broken triangle" (McIntosh,
l983)6--women, minorities, working class and the poor--want to hear.
The probability that the political process which creates bureaucracy
will define what will be cared about and will tailor caring to meet
the continued and changing needs, including self-perpetuation, of
the institution of schooling is strong (Finch & Tronto, 1990). An
ethic of caring could become simply another tool to maintain
bureaucratic organization within schools, and to maintain the

current inequality that permeates and governs the larger society.

Caring as Reciprocal
Noddings discusses the importance of reciprocity in caring,
saying that the caring relationship is incomplete if the
one-cared-for is unable to receive care from the one-caring.
Additionally, the one-caring needs to know that her care-giving has
been received, thus making the relationship reciprocal, each person

receiving as well as giving.

 

6Peggy McIntosh (1990) examines the conception of race and
gender in the industrialized West using a theoretical model which
she describes as a faulted triangle. The faulted triangle
diagrammatically illustrates the ”overvalued, overdeveloped,
'vertical,’ competitive functions at odds with undervalued,
underrecognized, '1ateral' collaborative functions" (p. 6). She
associates the former characteristics with the white, male
patriarchy, and the latter with women and minority races.”

 

 

96

From a bureaucratic standpoint, however, what the care-giver
has in her power to give and what the care-receiver wants or needs
may conflict. Women, most often on the lower levels of the
hierarchy, are in the position of the actual hands-on act of caring.

Women are expected to care about and give care to
others. But because of their lack of control over the

caring process in many contexts, women's responsibility

for caring remains ambiguous. In the home, women often

lack such control because they lack the resources for

caring. In human service bureaucracies, women lack

control because they occupy lower-level positions. The

constraints of professionalization often limit

caregivers' attention to a narrow sphere, so that it

becomes difficult for them to approach a situation

"holistically.” If they attempt to widen the sphere of

their attention and to take more responsibility, they

are often told they have ”gone too far." If they stay

within institutional limitations, their caregiving

often seems inadequate to themselves and others.

Care-receivers frequently blame them for not taking

enough responsibility. (Fisher & Tronto, 1990, p. 44)

As Fisher and Tronto clearly stated, bureaucracy limits the
ways in which caring can be exercised. If an ethic of caring is
created within a school that continues to operate within a
bureaucracy, will the limits of caring be extended in schools? Will
the resources--time, money, materials--be available to allow for
reciprocal relationships, that is, allowing administrators and
teachers to care for each other and students in ways they need and
desire? Who will determine what is included in caring? Is it
possible for caring to flower in a school while the system retains
its ties to bureaucracy? Will a female principal be expected to
make an ethic of care 'work,’ but only within the boundaries drawn

by her superiors? Will her staff, those she cares about, understand

 

97

that or demand more of her? Will the demands result in conflicts
that undermine the ethic of care?

The ideal situation is that of the care-giver meeting the needs
of the care-receiver. The definition of 'needs,’ however, is not
easily solved, particularly as power relations are unavoidable. As
differences in power increase, there is a greater possibility for
the dominant interests and ideas to take precedence in shaping the
needs (p. 45). For instance, the local board of education may see
low morale in a school in terms of aging teachers and poor kids
rather than insufficient textbooks and other curricular materials.
Or, a principal may interpret the faculty's demands for budget
information as a need for more power, rather than their need to feel
trusted. Dis-connection rather than caring occurs, and focus on the
tensions between the care-giver and care-receiver usurp the
attention from the complexity of caring.

No matter how close we come, the situation will never be
'ideal.’ ”Recognizing there will always be conflicts between human
beings' needs and desires, our time may better be spent identifying
and eliminating the most damaging and destructive forms of conflict"

(Grimshaw, 1986, p. 186).

Whose Caring? ”The Myth of Sisterhood"
The last section ended on a rather disquieting note with the
notion that bureaucracy could define what caring will be in schools.
Although that is a major concern, equally as disturbing is a

phenomenon that Fox-Genovese (1991) calls the “myth of sisterhood"

 

98

(p. 28). She describes this myth, in part, as growing out of the
19608 and 1970s when middle-class, WASP and Jewish women recognized
the similarity of their experiences. Gradually common
autobiographies of those middle-class women became the archetypal
experience for all women.

In so doing, they closely followed the lead of

their brothers, who had long claimed that the

experience of white middle-class men constituted the

substance of and model for the experience of men in

general. And like their brothers, they subordinated

the experience of innumerable less fortunate Americans

to their own and claimed for themselves the right to

speak in the name of all. In this perspective, feminist

politics of the personal unmistakably emerges as a

politics of race and class that perpetuates the

injustices of American society. (p. 29)

Extrapolating that argument to an ethic of caring, I believe
there is reason to say that feminists, perhaps without fully
apprehending what they are doing, have established a white
middle-class, gender-related interpretations of an ethic of caring,
despite protestations to the contrary (Noddings, 1984; 1992;
Gilligan, 1982; Seigfried, 1989; Tronto, 1987; Grimshaw, 1986).
Tronto (1987), analyzing Gilligan's work in light of the
psychological dimensions of women and caring, suggested that the
difference in women's moral expression could be a consequence of
their social upbringing and subordinate position in society.
Subsequently, the morality Gilligan associated with 'women' might
better be attributed to 'people' of subordinate or minority status.

As females have been quick to criticize males for conducting

studies that focused only on males and then universalized the

findings to all people, some of the more influential feminist

 

99

writings about caring and an ethic of caring are products of white
middle class females studying privileged white girls and women.
These products provided the basis of an ethic of caring.

In recent years, however, women of color, as well as other
persons, have challenged feminist theory and critiques because those
works do not fit the facts of their lives; neither does an ethic of
caring as currently perceived by white middle class women. Analyses
of the socio-historical character of an ethic of caring by non-white
women provides an alternative understanding of women's moral
thinking. Eugene (1989) and Lykes (1989) point out that for black
women, their history of slavery and of social and economic
subordination in modern society, and their roles in the church and
community have all impacted the ways in which they understand
caring. Their lived experiences derived from their history and
their material conditions derived from their social positions
contextualize an ethic of caring.

Unlike white middle class women's perspective of caring as
”women's work” implying oppression, black women have understood
caring to be self-initiated acts that serve as a foundation for the
survival of their race. Lykes illustrates the strength of that
value through a discussion of a black woman's decision not to accuse
the black man who raped her. Rather than accept the decision as the
woman's failure to cope, Lykes views it as a decision based on the
woman's knowing who she is, who her people are, and, perhaps, most
importantly, on a "confrontation with and resistance to the .

structures of racism/sexism/capitalism” (p. 170).

100

Black women's commitment to community and the church move them
beyond limited levels of care-giving. Caring moves many
women--those called 'Mother' because they ”care for those in need
and [] make a way where there is no way-a way of justice, a way of
equity, a way that may serve as a highway of righteousness for
everyone who wants to walk with integrity” (Eugene, 1989, p.
47)--into secular and sacred positions of authority and power within
their communities. They head black women's organizations and hold
positions of power in the larger community and in civil rights
organizations. They are pastors, evangelists, missionaries,
deaconesses, and so forth. "The members of the community call them
'Mother' and their 'children' are often religious and political
leaders who owe their power and authority to the sponsorship of such
respected and revered women" (p. 47).

Their power and authority epitomize caring, for ”women who are
addressed and referred to as 'Mother' within the context and by
members of the Afro-American community are those whose influential
power, biblical righteousness, and personal authority embody the
epitome of the liberational ethic of care alive and active within
the group. . . . The leadership of black women who bear and wear the
title of Mother within that religious and civic community is
paradigmatic and exemplary of the transformation of power that the
ethic contains” (p. 48).

In addition, many black women choose to live a "theology of
servant-leadership” (p. 59), grounded in their faith in Jesus Christ

and not to be understood as ”slave morality and mentality" (p. 54).

 

 

101

Integral to servant-leadership is a balance between justice and
love. Care is taken to ensure that acts of justice occur on behalf
of those who have no practicable means of support, concern, or
protection. The servant-leaders accomplish their caring by taking
care of business rather than doing business as usual. Justice and
care are intertwined. Servant-leadership ”is precisely black
womanist religious responses of endurance, resistance, and
resiliency offered in the face of all attempts at personal and
institutional domination that may provide a renewed ethical legacy
of liberation for everyone concerned" (pp. 59-60) There is a
commitment to the "survival and wholeness of an entire people, male
and female. Not separatist . . . traditionally universalist .
traditionally capable . . . [There is an] appreciation for the
struggle, a love of the folk, and a love of self--regardless"
(Walker, 1983, p. xi as quoted in Eugene, 1989, p. 60).

For some non-white females, an ethic of care has become a
”liberational" ethic of care.7 Rather than oppressive, these women
view zaring as freeing, freeing people to assume the power and
authority to care for others as well as themselves, to act to
empower their people. In a liberation ethic of care, "connection" as
discussed by Gilligan (1982) does not accurately describe
relationships in the black community where the assumption is that

there is community.

 

7For a more extensive discussion of a liberational ethic of
care, see Bill Puka's e r ' rent Vo ce or
0 0| 0|

WW

 

102

Responsiveness to the self and to others is not

"connected” as Gilligan argues. To posit a connection

is to imply and confirm a separation, that is, that

they are separate entities and must be brought together

(by the individual woman who develops this ethic of

care). Eugene's analysis boldly demonstrates that for

black women the other" is not other in our classic

understanding of opposition. Rather "other” and "self"

are co-constituting, co-defining. There is no self out

of connection, no connection without self in the

resistance to structural oppression. (Lykes, 1989, p.

170)

There is no dichotomous understanding of individualism and
community. Recall the woman who refused to accuse the man who raped
her. She was not skirting justice, but re-defining it and care.
The dilemma was about neither herself in relation to the other, nor
simply enacting caring, but about the more complex situation of
self-in-community, opposing the structural oppression within and
against which subordinate people act (Lykes, 1989).

Policymakers and reformers need to think seriously about what
an ethic of care is--and for whom. School staffs and students,
particularly from urban schools, are likely to be of diverse
cultural background. If an ethic of care is endorsed as a way
toward school reform, consideration of how to interpret caring is
necessary in order to unearth its multiple understandings, many of
which emanate from one's particular social community and life
experiences and may conflict with others.’ Particularly important
will be the equanimity with which persons of the dominant culture
are willing to consider--and wrestle with--understandings of caring

that are not within their immediate intellectual and emotional

grasp. Note the following example.

 

103

Most educators do not know/understand--often, are unaware
of--the cultural values that poor and minority students bring to
school. For example, adequate health care is a given for most
educators and taken for granted by their children. Fine (1986)
pointed out that health care is the first consideration in terms of
social priorities for many black and Latino students she
interviewed. She recounted an incident of a Latino student's
leaving school because his grandmother was coming home after triple
by-pass surgery; dropped out of school to take care of her. Fine
asked the counselor why no social worker had been contacted. His
response was, ”Jose got over-involved, and was irresponsible about
his own education” (p. 400).

The counselor's response is an example of not only inadequate
understanding of particular students' backgrounds and experiences,
but, also, of meting out caring in terms of only his understandings:
Jose did not deserve caring because he did not have the 'right'
values.

In terms of school staff, will implementing an ethic of caring
ease the tensions between non-European and white staff members, both
faculty and administrators? Will white teachers understand a black
female principal's concentrated efforts to work with community
church leaders and parents as caring for faculty and students? Will
a black female principal understand the resentment of white teachers
for her regular invocation of religious principles in the business

of schooling? Will teachers understand mothers or fathers not

 

104

helping with a children's homework because their time is spent
working two jobs and finding adequate childcare?
Noddings (1989, paraphrased in Noddings, 1992, p. 116) in Women

229.2211 cautions.

We tend to associate all that is good and right

with our side, and all that is evil and wrong with the

other side. We project our hostility and a host of

personal moral shortcomings onto the alien other. We

exteriorize evil in order to destroy it, and thereby we

perpetuate in ourselves and in the angry other the very

evil we set out to fight so valiantly." (Noddings,

1989, as paraphrased in Noddings, 1992)

Perhaps it would behoove us to consider not only an ethic of
care, but a liberational ethic of care, intertwining self and other,
justice and care, individualism and community. Regardless, it will
be necessary--imperative--for administrators and staff to work

together to understand caring from more than the dominant culture's

perspective.

Summary: A Politics of Care

To implement an ethic of care into our schools is to strive for
an ideal, for doing so is not simply choosing another method of
school organization, but is attempting to change a value system and
system of moral reasoning traditional to Americans. Educational
reformers supporting an ethic of care as the foundation for schools
are, in essence, challenging the moral fiber of the larger society.
They are suggesting that connection be as valued as independence,
that community be as important as autonomy, that moral reasoning be

based on the contextual and particular rather than on

105

universalizable principles, and that 'difference' not be considered
'deviance.’

An ethic of care is cast in feminist theory as moral reasoning.
As caring becomes a basis for school reform, it also becomes a
politics of care, centering on the dichotomy of female/male, in
essence, on care/power. As a politics of caring, it challenges
males to integrate caring into their public as well as private
lives; it necessitates a collective effort to implement and support
caring; and it posits a balance of community with individualism,
connection with autonomy, and interdependence with independence. An
ethic of caring contests the notion of bureaucratic hierarchy as
Truth.

There are several concerns, however, associated with an ethic
of caring. Of primary importance is the relatively little attention
given to interpreting caring as a collective effort. More difficult
than determining another individual's best interests, ascertaining
what is best for a group would seem to require the wisdom of
Solomon. In schools or other institutions where bureaucracy has
been the organization of choice and where hierarchy is assumed, an
ethic of caring would seek to balance top-down authority and
decision making with collaboration and shared decision making. The
question becomes how do people learn to collaborate, to come to
agreement as a group, to agree to compromise or given individual
interests so the group may flourish? How do people know when their

personal interests out-weigh those of the group?

106

Other concerns emanate from the notion of an ethic of caring as
female. 'Female,’ in general, is less valued in the public domain
than 'male.’ The characteristics of females and males,
subsequently, result in dichotomies which are judged by the gender
with which they are associated, male qualities are of most value,
female's of lesser value. With that as the circumstance,
implementing an ethic of care in the public domain will require a
different way of thinking about male and female, and an effort to
consider qualities associated with gender in gender-neutral ways and
within a continuum, rather than as stark polarities. An ethic of
care needs to become gender-neutral. Finally, effecting an ethic of
caring in school will require an understanding that different
cultures contribute to the interpretation of caring. Of concern is
that the dominant societal culture will impose the "meaning" of
'caring on all.

All of these concerns give rise to questions of power: are care
and power dichotomous? If not, what is the relationship? How do we
think about caring as power, that is, caring as 'power over'/
control/authority, oppressive? as using power, that is, sharing
power--'power with'--in order to achieve connection and community?
and as re-defining power, coming to a new understanding of power,
perhaps power as the capacity to implement (Baker Miller, 1976)?

The following chapter tells the background story of Division
High, its highlights and its nadir. Throughout we are privy to the

nuances of power and caring as they affect the life of this school.

107

That history is the foundation on which any attempts to exercise

caring will be built.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

THE STORY OF DIVISION HIGH

People are always shouting they want to create a better future.
It's not true. The future is an apathetic void of no interest to
anyone. The past is full of life, eager to irritate us, provoke and
insult us, tempt us to destroy or repaint it. The only reason
people want to be masters of the future is to change the past. They
are fighting for access to the laboratories where photographs are
retouched and biographies and histories rewritten.

Milan Kundera
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Although Division High's teachers and administrators dealt with
current reforms for future change, they really were addressing the
past. They fought lingering memories of pain from the desegregation
process; too many memories of past reforms that failed relationships
between teachers and administration that refused to be anything but
adversarial; and a host of other past events that burned themselves
into the lives of the staff members. Understanding the history of
the school is critical to an understanding of the ways in which
changes, especially those directed at building a caring environment,
were initiated, developed, and perceived by the staff. In terms of
feminist standpoint theory, research is situated in locale and

personal identity. Thus, the purpose of this chapter.

108

 

109

IMPRESSIONS

Division High looked much like any suburban school to me--long,
low, one-story brick; athletic complex to one side; student parking
lots that sported shiny, new cars; a faculty parking lot in the
rear; and a sign board in front alerting passersby to the next home
game, parent-teacher conference, or holiday. Flower boxes at the
front of the school added color and a touch of softness to the
otherwise institutional-looking building.

The school was across the street from a well-kept neighborhood
of houses, lawns and gardens, and was next to the city's only
Catholic high school. A few blocks to the west of the school were
suburban subdivisions and farm land. To the east, where most of the
students live, were poorly maintained houses in neighborhoods with
broken asphalt instead of grass, and with dismantled vehicles
instead of flowers in front of the houses.

As I approached the building the first time, my immediate
impressions began to change. Only one set of double doors was open,
although there were at least four doors within my view. Heavy
chains hung from all of them, securing all but the one. Security
guards with walkie-talkies in hand patrolled the hallways and
monitored the exits. Students, all staff members and any person who
might be in Division on a regular basis must wear an identification
badge, which included her/his picture and status in the school.

Inside the building, the main hallway was light, with windows
from floor to ceiling. The hallways were clean and devoid of

litter, despite the radical cuts in custodial work hours. And, to

 

 

110

my surprise, the girls' bathrooms were not only clean, but had
little, if any, graffiti.

Virtually no classroom had windows, purposely designed to save
money on fuel. The walls were tile halfway to the ceiling and
cinder block the remaining half. The colors were institutional drab.

Classrooms were particularly colorless, as none had much in the
way of materials. Books, maps, and equipment were not immediately
apparent in any classroom. What materials there were, were locked
up.

The library was beautiful, light airy and well-used. The
cafeteria was large with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side.
There were a gym, swimming pool, and an auditorium, as well as
special classrooms designed for vocational education courses,
drafting, for example. There were several rooms with computers for
beginning computer instruction and for computer use in business
classes. Special education, as is typical of many schools, was
located in the back of the school in several tiny rooms.

Students passed through the halls between classes with
'typical' student exuberance; security guards, administrators, and
teachers all monitored the halls at those times. During classes,
security guards patrolled the halls, checking students for i.d.

badges and hall passes.

YESTERDAY
When its doors opened in 1964, Division High School was known

as the 'country club' of the Newtown School District

 

lll

[KGle-30-9lzl]. Its architecture was based on innovative
educational concepts; it had amenities such as a swimming pool,
auditorium, and drivers' education track, and state-of-the-art
athletic facilities; and it attracted administrators and teachers
who were interested in being "on the cutting edge" [KG:lO-30-9l:l].
Its location was at the northern most edge of the city adjacent to
newly developed residential areas populated by economically and
socially rising white, middle class families. The school, itself,
was not within the city limits. Because of the tremendous growth in
housing developments in the north and because the residents of those
developments wanted the school to be a part of the city system, the
Newtown Board of Education was granted a variance by the city
council to incorporate the school site into the city. All property
surrounding the school site, including the parochial school next
door, remained solely a part of the township [anKle-9l].

The school population was large, with 2300 students in grades
ten through twelve. Like the surrounding community, the student
body was virtually white and middle/upper middle class; about 3% of
the students were black and 1% Hispanic [KGle-30-9lzl]. The city
celebrated Division's opening, and the newspaper regularly featured
Division students and teachers for academic and athletic
accomplishments, or for their involvement in innovative school or
classroom projects [1964-1967 school scrapbooks].

When Division opened, Newtown, itself, was experiencing growth
and prosperity due to a flourishing and expanding industrial

climate. Newtown was, in essence, a factory town, with the majority

 

 

112

of the people in the city employed in some capacity by the big
industrial firms. As demand for their manufactured products
increased, the companies continued to expand and to recruit more
people to work in the factories. People, including many
African-Americans from the South, flocked to Newtown, for the
working conditions, salaries, and benefits far exceeded those in
other blue-collar jobs. All of these benefits were attributed to
the intensity and success of the labor unions, nationally, and in
Newtown, particularly [Hle-23-92z2].

Newtown was a union town. The labor union of Newtown took care
of its people and the people had great allegiance to it. Likewise,
the school district had a strong union, patterned after the city's
labor unions. Strikes were common, but they produced results for
the workers and teachers-~benefits in working conditions and
increased wealth. The union also produced what some people have
described as a 'union mentality.’ A Division teacher who has always
lived in Newtown, and whose father, brother, other relatives, and
several friends work in factories, described the attitude of the
general Newtown resident as one of the factory ”owing" them a living
and, more precisely, a more than comfortable lifestyle. She
indicated that the general line worker felt little personal
responsibility for job satisfaction and job advancement. That
stance, in turn, lead to an attitude between management and labor
that was adversarial and based on winning, not on compromise. She
said that the workers believed strikes were a natural and necessary

part of life, and that there was no way to better working conditions

 

113

or their lives without a bitter struggle against management.
Workers' distrust of management was the norm; in fact, it was the
expectation. That workers and management worked for different and
conflicting ends was assumed. That workers would not progress
without struggles was a given. Because of the unions'--labor and
teachers'--success, however, Division High opened in a community
that saw only continued prosperity and increasing wealth for all of
Newtown's citizens [Hle-23-92zl].

Division High benefited from the financial prosperity and
positive outlooks. A member of the initial Division faculty recalls
her first three years:

The morale was high; staff relationships were

great both in and out of school. We had high parent

involvement, probably because most of the parents were

upper middle class and professionals. There were very

few minority students, and those that were, were

treated badly. [The principal] ran the show; it was

his ship. He gave the teachers responsibility, but the

ideas were his and we uSually agreed with him. But he

did give us responsibility. Like he brought up an idea

and asked us what we thought, then asked for or

appointed volunteers to carry it out. It was great.

[Division] was really seen as the 'country club' of the

[Newtown] schools. Teachers wanted to be here and

parents wanted their kids here. [KGle-30-91:1]

Within four years, the climate at Division began to change.
The building of an interstate through Newtown's downtown area
displaced many black families, who subsequently moved to the north
end of the city into houses constructed by the federal Housing and
Urban Development Department (HUD). Ironically, the north end had

been a "red line area" for blacks. That is, whites would not sell

houses in the area to blacks, thus maintaining all-white

 

114

neighborhoods and schools [HFz6-892:18]. With the construction of
the HUD housing, however, and the almost simultaneous federal
mandates for desegregation of schools, there was a significant
increase in enrollment of black students at DHS.
The freeways were starting to come through
[Newtown] in sixty-seven--well they were starting to
buy the land for [the interstate]. . . . So a lot of
the neighborhoods, which you call ghetto neighborhoods,
down by [the plant], where it's not worth much, those
families were displaced, at a pretty good price for
their homes. And they moved out to other areas. And
the only area that they could buy homes in was the
[Division] area. And then, of course, blockbusting
started. Do you know what blockbusting is? [No.] When
the state kind of goes into a . . . house in a white
district, and offers the people a fantastic price for a
house, and gets a black person in there. Then they go
to the other people up and down the block, and they
say, "Hey, you know, there's blacks moving in down the

block. You better sell and sell in a hurry.
[NKle-21-9lzl]

The influx of African-Americans into the north end initiated
the beginnings of 'white flight.’ The suddenly developed white
middle class community became as suddenly a largely black community,
as whites left their new homes to flee from ”those niggers"
[fnGSz6-9-92z2]. A teacher recalled his having bought a new home
across from the school. When black families began buying into the
neighborhood "with the blessing of the Johnson administration,"
[fnGSz6-9-92:2], a white neighbor packed his family into the car,
locked the door of the house, and never returned--and never bothered
selling the house [fnGSz6-992z3].

By 1968-69, the percentage of African-Americans at Division had
increased dramatically--to thirty percent, according to a faculty

member there at that time [anGz10-30-9l:1]. Racial tensions began

 

115

to build. A current DHS staff member who taught in another Newtown
high school in the late sixties and early seventies, recalled his
memories of that period at DHS and elsewhere in the district.

In '68, '69, '70, I want to tell you that
[Division] was an armed philosophical camp divided into
two warring factions. I'm telling you it was ugly. It
was ugly. I mean to the point where they had police
cars screeching to a halt on the lawn with their sirens
on, kids beating each other up, extortion in the
bathrooms, faculty confrontations, threats against
teachers, kids ganging up, beating up—-not beating up--
but it got to the point where the football coach left
because he was threatened by his own football players.

. At [my school] we had a group of kids that
threatened to shoot the administrators who came in the
building. We had the police over on the railroad
tracks to stop snipers who were slated to be in the
railroad tracks over at [my school]. I'm telling .
we've gone through some really tough times. [There was]
a principal [at Division] that was trying to bend over
backwards when--this was right after, you've got to
understand the timing of this. Martin Luther King had
just been killed. Bobby Kennedy had just been killed.
There was sixty-seven Detroit riots, and god, there was
the animosity and the stress, and the racial tension
was the proverbial so thick you could cut it with a
knife. I mean it was really ugly. [WE:3-26-92:30]

On January 17, 1979, according to a teacher who had been at
DHS, "all hell broke loose when Dr. King was assassinated. For two
years it was an unmitigated nightmare" [anGz10-30-9l:l]. Teachers
at DHS during this time remembered that police were inside and
outside the building, and the use of tear gas to break up fights.
There were students fighting students, teachers fighting teachers,
students and teachers fighting. A teacher was suspended for using a
racial epithet against a student. The staff was split along racial
lines and along liberal/conservative lines. The teachers recalled

incidents where faculty members had fist fights in the halls, and to

116

avoid fights, the principal banned certain teachers from being in
the lounge at the same time. When the police finally left the
building, parents volunteered to patrol the halls [NKle-21- 1:8;
NN:5-18-92zl]. According to one teacher, there was "total
disharmony" for two or three years. "Nobody wanted to come
here--staff or kids. [Long pause.] And we've never recovered"
[anGle-30-91:1].

Despite the fact that all the schools suffered from racial
tensions and riots, the perception of the teachers in the district
and of the community members is that Division had the most
difficulty. Several current Division teachers believe that the media
consistently used DHS to illustrate the problems stemming from
desegregation [anGle-30-9l; WE:3-26-92; NN:5-18-92], and have all
but concluded that the media was responsible for DHS's plummet from
'country club school' to 'district pariah.’

A Division teacher, African-American, who entered DHS in 1972
as a ninth grade student vividly recalled her high school years.
Hurt and anger permeated her voice and her face as she recounted her
struggles and experiences in dealing with the poor reputation given
to DHS in the aftermath of the race riots, and in fighting to
re-gain high academic standards, which were surrendered when DHS
became primarily a ”black" school.

And then as time moved on and blacks started

moving more and more, cause when I came over here

[Division] in seventy-two, this was still pretty much a

white area. And then when I came here in seventy-two,

there was another mini-riot, so to speak, and that's

when there was a mass movement out of here [by the

whites]. But even then, in seventy-two, it's when
teachers were saying that if they were going to be

 

117

punished by somebody in the system, they would send
them to [Division]. And it just became so abrupt.

I mean you had a very abrupt change-over and you went
from being seventy, eighty percent white to being a
predominantly black school. . . . I can remember being
a student here and we were protesting because they were
reducing college prep classes and creating more general
ed classes. . . . And we had little sit-downs, you
know, little smart kids, I guess, and we had little
sit-downs here and then they also went to the
desegregation thing in the school. So I mean there
were a lot of things that were going on that were kind
of militant in nature. But I think in seventy-two I
felt branded. I saw all of those things that were
occurring; it was scary. It was really scary. . . . And
then I would say that I fought up-hill battles for the
rest of my time here to prove that this was not a bad
school. You know, that we receive an adequate
education so whenever we were in some kind of
competition for the school, you had to know what you
were talking about and then all of those kinds of your
behavior, had to be really on target and those kinds of
things. [HFz6-8-92:18,19]

Corroborating this former DHS student's perceptions of
Division's reputation and struggle for higher level academic
preparation are the reflections of a science teacher who transferred
to DHS shortly after desegregation. As background, it is useful to
know that the Newtown community elected to desegregate using magnet
classes as their method of desegregation. Through a combination of
choice and assignment, each high school focused on particular
academic magnet classes; additionally, each also had specific
vocational emphases. Division's magnet classes were to revolve
around computers and technology. However, because of limited
equipment and public relations, that was never very successful.

The school also was to be a science and math magnet, despite

the fact that the high school closest to DHS also had that magnet

118

emphasis. The irony is not that there were two schools with the same
magnet, but that
[DHS's] science and math magnet program in

the early seventies was a second thought [for] the

creators of the magnet program because that meant the

black students would have to go where there were white

students to get science and math. 80 they decided to

put one here. [MUz5-28-92:12]
The magnet program was developed to implement desegregation, but it
served to keep black students at DHS, a predominantly black school.
It also resulted in a lesser version of the original science and
math magnet classes at another Newtown high school. Funding was

less because DHS could not attract students from other schools

because of the transportation scheduling.

[The] transportation scheduling. . . does not give
you a chance for the [other high school] students to
come here. Well, they could come . . . but would go to

[] because of the fact that it was the same distance
and they started earlier. The fact that we [DHS] start
third in the sequence of schools, that once you come
over here, I mean you've lost an hour just going back
to school. And so the [magnet] program was helped by
having its health occupation component here, like the
dental program and the nursing program. All of those
went elsewhere or just simply died . . . which means
science program or math program did not take hold
either. [MU:528-92:l2]

Additionally, DHS's science and math magnet program did not begin
until the second year of the district magnet program, thus falling
behind the already established science and math classes at the other
high school. In essence, Division was the last to receive magnet
classes. They received the worst part of the transportation
scheduling, thus mitigating against drawing students from other

schools. They also were in a position of offering science and math

119

as magnet classes, thus, encouraging students--black students--to
remain at DHS. Today, there are earth science, biology, and
chemistry classes; the latter only one small class. There are no
advanced chemistry classes or physics classes.

From another perspective, DHS teachers viewed the district
magnet program as hurting the quality of academics offered at
Division because any significantly above-average student was
encouraged to take their academic classes in the other schools'
magnet classes. Faculty members felt deprived from working with the
higher quality students and, in fact, there were few advanced
classes offered in any academic subject areas.

I always felt bad . . . that our counselors were

willing to send students to take upper level science

and math at [the other school]. And they did it as a

favor to the students. And, therefore, we did not have

good, our own good students to enroll in our classes,

let alone trying to entice students from other schools

to come over here. [MU:5-28-92:14]

Because of the rioting and fighting reported at Division in the
late sixties and early seventies, the school gained the reputation
of being the roughest, toughest school in the area. Teachers, by
and large, did not choose to go there because the academic program
was weak as a result of the counselors' recommending the better
students attend magnet classes, which were academically stronger, in
other schools. The perception among the staff was that DHS had a
disproportionate number of students who had trouble academically.
Many parents believed the reputation that DHS acquired--rough,

tough, and academically inferior. They did not want to send their

children to attend DHS and did anything they could to enroll them in

 

 

120

another high school, even sending them to private schools.
Division, once seen as the premier school, became the school for
“misfits” [HFz6-8-92:17].

One of the problems, the big problems, for our
school has been the magnet program. I see that as .
the program that screened out even our normal share of
bright kids in the district. Kids that belong in our
neighborhood school district that go to other schools.
And the magnet program allowed them to do that.
However, the reason they go to other schools is that
their parents know of our undeserved reputation .
many parents will do anything to keep their kid from
going here. . . . Give a different address . . . to go
to another school. Change kids' custody, you know,
give the custody of the kid to an uncle who lives in
[another school's] district. . . . I think we have a
disproportionate number of kids who are in trouble
academically. And they don't have the benefit of
seeing as many of the bright school chums as they
might, you know, in a positive academic world.
[NKz5-26-92:1,2]

After the events of desegregation and the resultant downward
adjustment of the academic program, DHS continued to struggle,
fighting an up-hill battle to regain its positive reputation. The
first black principal, who was appointed in the aftermath of the
efforts toward integration, “was a disgrace, a thief. He was
dishonorable toward women” [KGle-30-9l:l; NK:lO-21-91:2]. He was
removed from the school because of embezzling funds that band
parents had collected for new band uniforms; he was never formally
charged and was moved "up" to the district office [fnTEz5-26-92zl].
During the time he was at Division, the assistant black football
coach was accused of ”being involved" [anGz10-30-9lzl] with
cheerleaders and, subsequently, was dismissed. Unspoken and formally

denied inferences to the problems at DHS as the result of black

 

121

leadership abounded among the white teachers and community members.
Racial tension--unacknowledged and denied--hovered in the air and
served to maintain or increase the split among faculty begun during
the movement to desegregate [fnGS:6-9-92]. The attitude of the
faculty, as well as community members, toward new teachers at DHS
was, "What did you do to get on some principal's shit list?"
[anG:lO30-91:1]. The morale of faculty and staff, needless to say,
was "low and sinking” [NKle-21-9lz2].

The next principal was no newcomer to DHS, having served as
deputy principal under DHS's first chief administrator. However, he
came from the rival high school bringing an entourage of teachers
with him. The latter is generally not unexpected. A problem arose,
however, when he replaced all the department chairpersons at DHS
with 'his' people. The staff, already greatly split, became even
more divided [KG:10-30-9l:2].

When he left, another black male became principal. Generally,
the faculty saw him as a sincere person and good with students. He
was educationally ineffective and passive, having virtually no
innovative curriculum ideas or evidencing little energetic response
to school reform efforts. And, above all, he had ”no clout" with
"downtown” [KGle—30-9lzl]. The staff felt a lack of leadership
from him.

As the second black principal who seemed to accomplish little,
he was particularly berated by white, male teachers, especially
those who had administrative aspirations and were continually passed

over. Again, thoughts based on racial biases were denied by most

 

 

122

faculty members. ["I know that people unconsciously still believe
some of these things, but they don't bring them to the surface,
actually think about it and think it through” HF:6-8-92:28].
Teachers coming to DHS continued to be viewed as casualties of
another principal's dissatisfaction with them. The splits among
staff increased and deepened; wariness and distrust of each other
grew; and the problems at the core--racia1 bias and tension,
distrust of each other--remained silenced.

That principal had the longest tenure, thirteen years, of any
at DHS. No major incidences at DHS, positive or negative, occurred
during that time. Discontent with DHS, throughout the school and

throughout the community, continued to fester and grow.

TODAY

Currently, Division is ninety-eight percent African-American,
headed by a black, female principal, the first female high school
principal in Newtown's history. About fifty-percent of the teachers
are African-American and fifty-percent white. The prevalent
description of Division is that of a school on the brink of
collapse.

[Division] is like a beautiful new house with a
carefully manicured lawn, BUT the family within is

falling apart. [anMz85-92]

[Division] is like a house of cards that's going
to come tumbling down.” [fnTDz2-11-92zl]

Division High suffered from the effects of the city's dramatic

decline. Unlike thirty years ago, the city is no longer thriving,

123

but is fighting for survival. The once active and expanding
industrial plants are closed. Formerly prosperous and upwardly
mobile families are without jobs or are with ones providing only
subsistence living. Families have left the city, many returning to
the South. The school population has decreased dramatically.

Within three years, Division's student body dropped from over two
thousand students to less than sixteen hundred. As a result, classes
become larger and materials fewer [NKle-21-9lz2].

Students and teachers live with the rumors that Division will
be closed if the district continues to lose students. This
translates to both groups that DHS is the most expendable of the
high schools in the district. ‘Because of the rumors, teachers
believe their budget is less than those of other district high
schools, and the support from the district is generally less for
DHS.

At the same time the staff lives with the threat of closing,
the board of education and the superintendent has provided
opportunities at DHS for school and curricular reforms. Site-based
management [SBM], shared decision making, and alliances with the
local business community and a local university are some of the
opportunities presented to the staff. These opportunities, however,
do not come without difficulties.

The threat of closing affects the attitude of the DHS staff
toward making substantial changes. People either support change
hoping to keep Division open, or refuse to waste effort on change

because Division will close anyway. The latter feeling is

 

 

124

intensified by the belief that Division's district has little, if

any, political power. These attitudes have had a significant effect

in the attempt to establish site-based management and shared

decision making as the method of school organization and operation.
It's very difficult to make change. And I think

most people feel that if a school is closed it's going

to be [Division]. . . . I think there's a perception

that why bother because it's [SBM] not going to make a

difference anyway, and I think the other side of that

is some people feel we have to make this work because

it's the only hope we have of not being closed. That

if we can, if we can do something that is so

successful, and we can show that it's successful, then

they're [the board of education] going to have to look

at closing somebody else. . . . I feel that we have to

do something that is so successful, that it will make

it very difficult to close [Division] because I don't

think this community has the political clout to keep it

open. The other communities all have more political

clout. [NQz3-4-92z20]

Perhaps even more important to the establishment of SBM at
Division is the influence of the teachers' union. Like the labor
unions in Newtown, the teachers' union in Newtown was very strong,
negotiating for teachers against administrators, viewing the
relationship between teachers and administrators as adversarial.
The union was powerful and its members were willing to strike in
order to attain their goals. A DHS teacher, who has been actively
involved in the union for almost thirty years, implied the attitude
of its members was even more antagonistic toward administration than
labor unions: "I've been on seven strikes as a teacher, which is

more than any [labor union] member who's my age has participated in"

[NQ:3-4-92:20].

125

The union has lost some its power in recent years and some
teachers feel it needs to re-think its role. The membership is no
longer fully supportive of union activities, resulting in a split
between those who are union supporters and those who are not. This
change in attitude among teachers toward the union presented
difficulties to the development of SBM at Division High. There
seemed to be general agreement that the union played an integral
part in getting site-based management piloted in some of the Newtown
schools. There ended the agreement. For non-union supporters, SBM
was union-conceived and union-driven. They saw the union using SBM
to grasp--or re-gain--power within the district by putting teachers
in a position to make and carry out school policy. Some even felt
that the union ”convinced" DHS administrators, who initially voted
against SBH, to change their minds-—and their votes. For those
reasons, the non-unionists, particularly, dragged their feet
regarding the implementation of SBM, or actively rebelled against it
[Hle-23-92:l].

Union members, however, believed that SBM was the last chance
for DHS--and the entire Newtown school district-~to survive
educationally, and the union had the strength to ensure its
acceptance by administration; they did not view SBM as a way for the
union to gain power. They saw the union, rather as an integral part
in saving the educational system, generally, and Division High,
particularly [NQz34-92:21]. Nevertheless, the faculty members on
the initial SBM steering committee were all strong unionists, active

at city, regional, and state levels [Hle-23-92z2; 12:3-17-92;

126

fnle-30-92]. The principal felt a strong unionist attitude from
that initial committee, "an orientation of them against us,"
[HJ:10-28-91:2] which immediately caused tension between faculty and
administration, and limited collaboration [HF21-2392z2;
MleO-28-9lz2].

Teachers at Division believe that the media continues to slight
or ignore Division's accomplishments and emphasizes the schools
problems. State honors in a science and engineering competition
were not recognized by the city's newspaper or local television
station [AQ:518-92:3]. Crimes and assaults by DHS students
routinely are in print and on the local T.V. station. A secretary
and parent commented:

One of the bottom lines I would still have to say

is I know that [Division] could not have the best of

reputations, but I don't feel that we probably have any

more problems than any other school has. Ours are

always spread out and everybody knows when [Division]

has a problem. [TT:2-3-92:8]

Division seems to be fighting a losing battle because of its
history and the reputation gained. Teachers rarely come to DHS
voluntarily, that is they are most often transferred involuntarily
from another school to fill needed positions at DHS, or choose DHS
as the lesser of two evils in terms of the better course assignment.
Division's reputation weighs heavily on teachers.

If [Division] was seen to be a premier school like

[], you wouldn't have staff members feeling this way.

. They've always operated under a cloud. . . . People
treat you like a hero because you've made it through

another year. You know, you're a Rambo or something
[HFz6-8-92z20]

127

Parents continue to find ways to send their children to other
schools in or out of the district. And Division continues to
receive students no other school wanted.

We are a dumping ground. We have blue slip kids
in here all the time; they [administrators] don't
bother to tell you they're blue slips. Those are the
kids that are kicked out of another high school and
told never to come back and then we have to pick them
up. And then they don't let us know that they are blue
slippers. And under the code of conduct, a person who
has been kicked out of one of the high schools or one
of the middle schools and put in another middle school
are there on probation, and if probation is broken,
simply by getting in trouble again, that's a rule
that's never followed. . . . We have kids in the
classroom now that are awaiting trial for felonies.
That old man *hat was beaten and was still in a coma,
those were our two dandies that did it. They're
awaiting trial. One turned state's evidence . . . who
is going to be tried for that, who was in class. We
didn't know he had an ankle tether on until his trial
came up and then he's gone. [XSzS-2692:12,13]

What are the teachers' reaction to these goings on? "The
number one rule is cover your ass, the rest is bullshit"
[XSzS-26-92:l3]. And as another teacher summed up, "I guess if we
look at the history of [Division], it's always been a school for
misfits, so to speak” [HFz68-92zl7].

With this history, Division High School--a school in a once
thriving city now struggling to survive, a school with many
divisions-embarked on making changes. Could its constituents pursue
an ethic of care in a school that has been traditionally fraught
with power struggles for control? Or would that prove impossible or

personally too costly?

CHAPTER FIVE
THE PRINCIPAL:

POWERFUL CARE-GIVER?

There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous
of conduct. or more uncertain in its success. than to take the lead
in the introduction of a new order of things.”

N. Machiavelli

As I thought about Mattie Johnson. I envisioned her as leading
faculty, staff, students, and neighborhood community into a new era
for Division High. She had prepared herself for years to someday be
the principal--the leader--of a school. Now she is the principal,
but her leadership is vastly different than she had anticipated.

She is in the position of introducing "a new order of things.”

Current school reform efforts, to varying degrees, focus on
community-school partnerships (Goodlad (1990, 1988); Sizer (1985,
1992); Holmes Group;). The thrust of these partnerships is to
balance authority and control of the schools through shared decision
making and management involving teachers, administrators, students,
parents, and other community members; to develop schools that are
more people-centered, relational, and collaborative in their

functioning. Reflecting on feminist conceptions of alternatives to

128

129

bureaucracy and hierarchy and on the thrust of the current school
reforms, I suggest that the latter may provide opportunities to move'
toward organizational structure based on an ethic of caring. Allow
me to elaborate.

In order to collaborate and to share decision-making power and
management among many, thinking in terms of a hierarchy of
leadership is counter-productive. Contrary to bureaucratic
standards, a community school partnership would seem to require a
fluidity, that is, a give and-take among participants, and a
recognition and acceptance of multiple beliefs, values and
viewpoints--interdependence. To achieve fluidity, an organization
would need to accept the fact of differences and be willing to work
toward the welfare of the group, as well as toward that of the
individual. Additionally, I suggest that fluidity would result with
the recognition that the organization is composed of human beings,
with all their foibles. Such a recognition would necessitate
adaptations within the structure as a whole and within individual
positions within the structure in order to accommodate personalities
as they attempt to work both individually and collectively. This
acceptance, I suggest, would, ultimately, necessitate a climate and
organizational structure supportive of, and conducive to, caring.

To establish an organization based on caring, however, would
not be a simple task. The current organizational structure is based
on power relations and, therefore, any attempt to establish caring
would be embedded within the power of a bureaucratic hierarchy. Of

primary consideration in the creation and implementation of an ethic

130

of caring in a school, subsequently, must be the ensuing
relationship between caring and power. Power relations exist; an
ethic of caring as a potential basis for organizational structure
and culture, realistically, will co-exist with power. The latter
will necessitate an exploration of what that relationship will or
can be. In the following chapter, I will explore the ways in which
Hattie Johnson, principal of Division High School, intentionally and
unintentionally dealt with the role of caregiver which she gave
herself, and the role of leader/authority, which was both assigned
to, and willingly accepted, by her. Through her experiences, we
begin to see caring and power in relationships that appear symbiotic
or, perhaps, parasitic. Regardless of the labeling, the reality is
a connection, not a dichotomy, between caring and power.

Hattie Johnson viewed her role as principal as being about "the
business of really caring about people, really, truly, knowing
everybody is important. The respecting, the dignity, the worth of
every individual. . . . nurturing, caring, and understanding"
[MJz9-lO-9lzl3]. Although she did not associate herself with
feminism, her description of how she wanted to 'lead' and to be
perceived as a 'leader' were very much within the rhetoric of
theorists exploring organization and leadership from the perspective
of feminist theory and, specifically, from the point of view of an
ethic of care. I saw her as embodying my idea of what an ethic of
caring could be in schools. Her intent was to effect an atmosphere

of caring in Division High School--indeed, a new order of things.

131

In the process of effecting such changes, the concept of
leadership needs to be re-examined and the role of "leader,"
perhaps, re-defined. In a community-oriented organizational
structure, the intention is for teachers, students, parents, and
community members to assume aspects of leadership by taking part in
critical decisions affecting the school, the curriculum, and the
students. In essence, the leadership role will be distributed among
many.

With movement toward such organizational structure, principals
will have to consider what role they will have, not only in the
final analysis, but in the change process itself. There appears to
be no model for them to follow as they re-think a change in role
from primary decision-maker and building authority, to one involving
shared decision-making and management with people from multiple
positions and perspectives from within and, possibly, without, the
school. Leadership conceivably could be shared and shifted among
teachers, students, and parents and other community members, in
addition to building administrators, at varying points in time. In
the process of change from one leader--the principal-~to shared
leadership, there is the assumption that the principal's changed
role will evolve, or, as some may speculate, devolve. In either
case, the principal's role in the process of change deserves
thoughtful consideration, for the way the role is viewed during that
period will affect not only the implementation of the reform
strategies, but also the conceptions and subsequent definitions of

"leadership" and of "caring.”

 

132

Several questions are pertinent to a deliberation of the
principal's function in the process of change. How does she
understand, interpret, and enact caring? Does she see herself as
the primary caregiver? as a recipient of caring from faculty,
staff, and/or students? Does/How does she promote caring among the
staff and between students and staff? How does she understand,
interpret, and enact power? Does she believe she needs power in
order to enact caring? Will her evolving role affect movement
toward an organizational structure that supports an ethic of caring?

These questions will be addressed through the story of Mattie
Johnson, principal of Division High School. Through her experiences
and reflections, we become intimately involved in her attempts to
make a transition between the known--traditional concepts of
leadership as authority and control--and the unknown--an amorphous
vision of shared leadership; and in her attempts to move toward an

ethic of caring while immersed in a structure of 'power over.’

HATTIE JOHNSON - BACKGROUND OF A PRINCIPAL
People who really know me, know that I, for the

most part, am very nurturing and caring and

understanding. I am a people person. I really love

people. I am really concerned about people. [MJz9-15-

91:13]

Hattie Johnson worked her way into a principalship; as one DHS
staff member put it, she came up through the ranks, paying her dues

to the system and working for everything she's ever achieved

[JleO-309lz2].

 

133

Although she spent her early years in the South, virtually her
entire educational career was in Newtown. She began as a social
studies teacher; and progressed to department chair, assistant
principal, and, then, deputy principal, the position next to that of
principal. During Mattie's years in a secondary position in
administration, her principal was her mentor, grooming her to become
a high school principal.

Financial cutbacks in the district in the past several years,
however, forced teacher- and administrator-layoffs. Five years ago,
Mattie, then deputy principal, was 'pink-slipped.’ A few weeks
prior to the new school year, she was notified that she would be
back in her school, but not in the same position . Because an
administrative position in another high school was cut, that
administrator, who had more seniority than Mattie, bumped her down
to assistant.

Mattie was glad to be reinstated and, particularly, to return
to the same school. But, the return was not easy. She had to deal
with her feelings of being demoted, which meant that she might very
possibly have to wait even longer to have her own building; she had
to deal with her feelings of being bumped by a white male, who had
indicated he was going to retire but changed his plans because of
personal circumstances; and, she had to deal with the fact that she,
because she was committed to the school and to doing her best, would
be in a position to provide him with information that she not only
possessed, but was a part of her, about the school, students and

faculty. She was hurt and angry, but did not want to begin the

134

school year with those feelings. So, she wrestled with them, using
prayer and determination to make the most of a disappointing and
frustrating situation.

As is typical of Mattie, she picked herself up, believing there
must be a purpose for what she considered a set-back. After all,
she had recovered from temporary blindness as a child and learned to
compensate for her poor vision. [Of the thirty-five staff I
interviewed, only one mentioned Mattie's vision difficulty which she
described as looking through a ”very scratched window" with one eye;
the other eye is weak from overuse. Additionally, she must wear
dark glasses in bright light and must limit her reading time
(McDonald, M., Sept., 1991, p.A,ll)]. She continued to pursue her
goal of becoming a secondary school principal: believing she would
achieve it if she worked diligently. There were no excuses for her
not to achieve—-

. my upbringing, my father, my mother insisted

that anything you do, you do well . . . every tub has

to stand on its own bottom. That you don't expect

other people to do your work for you. Blind or not,

woman or not, poor or not, black or not, you just

don't do that. I learned those things very well.

[MJz9-lO-9l]

She came back to school as assistant principal determined to do
the best she could. Her sensitivity, warmth, and understanding
permeated the school as I was later to find out. Throughout the
year I spent at her school involved in a research project, I was to
hear, unsolicited, time and again from teachers that Mrs. Johnson

was a very caring person; that she could be tough, but she was fair;

that teachers could argue with her, but always felt that she said

 

135

her piece and did not hold a grudge; that she was always honest with
them and they knew where she stood on any issue.

The following year she was promoted to the position of deputy
principal at Division High School. Her reputation followed her.
Again teachers explicitly cited her strength, her fairness, and her
charisma.

She's loved by the custodians and food service

workers because ”she's a no-nonsense lady who's
obviously in charge.” [HF:lO-309l:2]

She's a good person. . . . [Mattie] is an
educator . . . she's very rigid, very firm, but very
fair . . . SHE CARES, she cares, she cares!

[xc:1o-3o-91:1,2]

. she's got charisma and she's smart.

[TD:2-ll-92:13]

She's intelligent, she's dynamic, she's got tons

of energy. I think she deals really well with people.

. . I mean I see her as fully genuine. . . . [H]er

sensitivity or kindness or concern, that's the way she

is. That isn't like something she turns on when she

comes in the building and turns off when she leaves.

That's the way she is. [IZz3-17-92:6,9]

She used that year to learn about the school, to get to know
the teachers and students and to move toward a few changes. She
worked especially hard to understand the culture and community of
the school, the nuances that made DHS unique, and the features that
made it a pariah among the city's high schools. When she was
appointed principal in July, 1991, she had a sense of the students,
teachers, and other staff members; the breadth and depth of the
problems faced by DHS; her general expectations of herself as a

leader; and her general goals for the school. With those thoughts

in mind, she set five goals for herself: I) improve academic

136

achievement and promote excellence in education; 2) build trust
(among staff and administrators, and among staff and students); 3)
work to build on what has been started with site-based management
and shared decision-making to include more people, especially
parents, in what occurs; 4) improve communications between and among
staff and the total community; and 5) improve school-community
relations [fn:lO-2-9l].

Within the first months of Mattie's principalship at Division,
she was feted throughout the community and school district. You
see, she is the first female high school principal in Newtown's
history---and she is African-American. Members of social
organizations, friends and relatives, and the school district staff
all celebrated her promotion. The community, the district, and the
staff at Division High all looked to her as the ONE who would change
Division. Hopes, expectations, and spirits were at a new high.
Additionally, women, particularly Black women, were enormously proud
to have a sister who had persevered and won.

But what did she win? She acquired a school with a faculty who
wanted, yet resisted, leadership; who wanted to be cared for, but
were accustomed to controlling. She acquired 'partnerships' with
community organizations and a local university, both of whom wanted
to help Division, but on their own terms and for their own purposes.
She acquired the a position of authority, the principalship, but
with a mandate to alter the organizational structure to accommodate

shared decision making and*shared management. She wanted to believe

her position was one of leadership and power, one that she would

137

temper with caring. But, the ambiguity of her position--what she
thought it should be and what it really was—-and her power were
quick to surface.

Mattie entered the school year "on a honeymoon," as she liked
to say. Bouquets adorned her office on a regular basis; notes of
congratulations arrived daily; several articles about her, including
a feature story, were in the city newspaper; and parents, community
members, business persons and others dropped in to wish her well.
But, no one really told her what was expected of her. They just

knew she would make a difference. They were counting on her.

HATTIE JOHNSON - CARE-GIVER

And she did make a difference. With Mattie Johnson's arrival
as principal, the air at Division High was charged with expectations
and a readiness, of sorts, for change. Faculty, staff, and
community members looked forward to Mattie's coming, for she brought
with her a reputation of caring, concern, and a sense of quality and
pride for the school and all those associated with it. She was a
breath of fresh air in a school that stagnated with painful
histories; she was a symbol of change in a building where people and
ideas lingered seemingly unchanged. Those characteristics, although
not explicitly articulated, permeated the staff's illusions of the
transformations that could take place. In the remainder of this
section, I discuss the ways in which Mattie intended to develop
caring at Division. She believed that her modeling caring;

establishing pride for and within Division; building trust; having

138

high expectations for self, staff, and students; accepting her own
and other's humanity; 'ministering' to faculty and students; and

building community would lead to Division's becoming a caring place.

Setting the Tone

Your leader will set the tone. People pick up on
their habits of their leaders and I have found that to
be true. . . . I feel, as an administrator, you have to
model the behavior that you expect. [MJz9-lO-91:3,4]
The tone she wanted to set for the building was one of
caring--for each other as well as students. In order to accomplish

her goals, she believed she must model the behaviors she wanted to

see faculty and students adopt.

Building Pride in DHS

Building pride would not occur overnight. Time and time again,

she reiterated emphatically that
[change] takes time, and one of the things

I'm working on with myself is that . . . I pray for

patience, so that I don't try to rush the process.

There is a sense of readiness, and we'll know, you'll

know it. You'll know when [it is] the right time to

move on . . . [MJ:lO-28-9l:4]

Mattie, knowing that major changes do not take place
immediately, yet feeling a need 'to do something' both for herself
and for others, began with changes that could be made, physical
improvements to the building. She began by remodeling and
re-furnishing the deputy principal's and principal's offices;

removing a wall separating one secretary from all the others;

re-furnishing the faculty lounge; putting flowers and plants in the

139

main office; making the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the
building a virtual greenhouse with a variety of hanging and
stationery plants; and installing a soup, sandwich, and salad bar in
the faculty dining room so staff would not have to go through the
students' lunch line. She insisted that students respect the
building by keeping it clean. Whenever she saw litter in the
hallways, she would either pick it up herself if no one was around,
or ask a student to remove it. Discipline for students included,
with parent and union sanction, students' scrubbing graffiti from
the walls. Mattie believed that one's physical surroundings
contribute to the feeling one has about the place and one's place in
it.

Speaking about her impressions of the physical building when
she arrived as deputy principal, she said,

If we are about the business of servicing
students, serving community, what do I feel? What do
you feel when you walk into the main office? What do
you feel like when you walk in? How do people treat
you? What do you see when you first drive up to this
campus? Is there a sense of business, but is it caring,
is it friendly? Do you sense that people want to be
here and you want to be here? I didn't feel that when
I walked in [the main office]. Why are these windows
up here? Why is the secretary enclosed away, and
people told me that is the way it has been. What
message does this send? I said, ”Well, maybe it will
go away. Maybe I will feel differently about this."

I went the entire year and it still didn't. I got this
appointment [as principal] and asked for some things to
be done. Starting from the outside. Kathleen, we can
be the best school in the world, but in my opinion, how
you look [is important]. I know that people feel that
this could be elaborate, but this has to be
comfortable. It has to represent the person. When you
drive up outside, you ought to see a clean, well-kept
place because people drive by and make decisions about
us, just as people drive by our homes . . . . I also
believe that before we get a chance to do our jobs in

140

our classrooms, that people make a decision about who

we are and what we are by walking into this building

and these offices. I really believe that. . . . You

can have the cleanest [building] and have all of these

things in place and you can have kids not being

educated either. I don't want to cloud the picture

there, but I do believe an orderly, clean, caring

environment . . . helps with the mission. When I

walked over there I just didn't see that people would

get the sense of feeling safe, cared for, "I am here to

serve you.” So I asked them to knock those walls out .

[If] you say that you have a caring, safe,

orderly, courteous friendly environment wanting to

serve, then what do people see? [MJ:lO-2-9l:7-8]

Mattie intended the physical refurbishings to be a token of her
commitment to the deeper, more significant organizational and
curricular alterations that would ”take time" to bring about. She
saw this work, albeit "window dressing," as she called it, as a
concrete way of showing the faculty she cared. Her dream was for
faculty and students to be proud of themselves and the achievements
they made. But she knew that the negative perception of the school,
about and by its students and teachers, would not disappear because
she wished them to. She knew changes necessary to alter those
perceptions would take time. Therefore, she wanted to show staff and

students in an immediate and tangible way her pride in the school,

her faith in them.

Building Trust

Trust-building among the faculty and faculty and administration
was a critical issue to Mattie Johnson. Relationships within the
school, by teachers' own admission, were fragmented and distrustful.

Moreso was the lack of trust between administrators and teachers.

141

The latter stemmed from not only the history of the school, but also
from the history of the community.

Newtown was an industrial town with a strong union. A majority
of the citizens were, in one way or another, a part of the industry
and, therefore, a part of the union. The union, generally, operated
from an adversarial position--workers versus management. The
teachers' union, subsequently, patterned itself after the successful
labor union and functioned from the perspective of teachers versus
administration. That attitude carried over into the schools within
the district. Given the difficulties faced by Division High during
desegregation in the late 19605 and early 19705, and its ensuing
reputation as the 'roughest' and 'worst' school in the city,
relations between administration and faculty had not ceased to be
antagonistic. Mattie, well aware of that, believed trust needed to
be built between her and the faculty.

. there as been a real history of people in

this building. At least there is a perceived

reputation that there are people here who are

anti-administration. One of the things is the building

of trust, and as you well know that takes time, and

talking to people; it wears me out. [MJ:lO-2-9l:9]

Central in her mind to building trust was her visibility among
faculty and students and their access to her. Early in the school
year, Mattie seemed superhuman as she appeared almost magically,
throughout the building, hour by hour, day in and day out. She
stood in the outer office in the mornings to banter with faculty

members as they arrived; she joined faculty and staff in the

hallways prior to school and as students passed from class to class;

142

she kept her office door open, inviting faculty and staff to visit
with her at any time; she wandered through the student cafeteria
during the various lunch hours to tease students or to ask them
about themselves; she made a point of stopping by teachers' rooms
just to say ”hi”; she ambled into the kitchen to visit with the
cooks and cafeteria aides; and she seemed always present to
compliment and thank volunteers who came and left the building on no
certain schedule. As she said, "If I stayed in this office, all
sorts of things would go by me. I wouldn't know” [MJ:lO-28-91:6].

Most important to her, though, was establishing personal
contact with each teacher in order to open the door for
communication between administration and teachers, as well as among
teachers, themselves. She viewed communication as an integral part
‘ of trust-building which, she believed, was necessary for site-based
management and shared decision making to be effective, to succeed.
Because of the controversy within the staff regarding the
understanding and implementation of site-based management (which
will be discussed later), and because there was historically an
antagonistic relationship between administration and staff, Mattie
was convinced that communication between administration and staff
had to be strengthened. Through individual contact especially with
teachers, she hoped to convince them of her integrity and her
sincerity about working together as a team.

Her goal at the beginning of the year was to have had an
individual conference with every teacher and with groups of support

staff prior to the end of the school year. Her intent was to show

143

her interest in the them as a persons; to discuss her expectations
of the individual and/or group; and to encourage teachers and staff
to voice their expectations of her as principal. She wanted the
faculty to see her commitment to them as professionals, and to their
striving together to develop the concept of SBM at Division.

I bet I have not written one memo this year. What
I have decided to do is to go to the person. Go to the
source. . . . How do you think [we] have gotten where
[we] have gotten? We have spent time and talked. We
got a chance to know [each other]. That is what I want
to do. For everyone who is working in this
building-~we are talking about everyone. . . . The more
I talk to them, the better they know me. The more I do
what I say that I am going to do, the more I get a
chance to hear them out, the better job and the more
trust will build. What I have as a goal for this year
is that I will talk one on one with everyone.
[B]ecause of the attention that you're giving to one
person, you'll focus on that individual. And what
you're doing is you're asking for that person's
opinion. And you're listening to, you know, you're
actually listening. What I heard said to me over and
over again was that, "I really appreciate this. I
never had anybody to ask me what I thought. And I got
the feeling that you're really listening." And what a
person will say to you one on one, it's very different
than what a person would say if you had them in a
group. . . . I feel that it's the basic need of an
individual to get knowledge as being important, and
that [he's] important enough for you to listen [to]
[MJ:lO-2-9l:9-10; 6-25-92:6].

Building trust meant building relationships; building
relationships meant changing the ways staff had learned to interact
over the years. Mattie's approach was to talk one on one with
staff, and to attempt to move faculty toward the concept of team
work. That is, she, alone was not responsible for 'changing'
Division High; it was to be a team effort. Ever aware that change

takes time, Mattie committed herself to building trust slowly and

144

solidly, believing that patience and small, steady steps were more
effective than flashy proposals or projects that dazzle like
fireworks and fade as rapidly.

Well, you deal with [changes] one at a time. You
deal with, that some of it is just going to have to
take time. That's why I'm talking to everybody one on
one. . . . I cannot control what people think. They
can only deal with what is. But some people thought
that, "[Mattie Johnson's] coming,” whatever it is that
they wanted, [Mattie Johnson) was going to fix it. But
what I had said is that, "Wait! Whoa! This is
collaboration. This is team work. This is shared
decision making. This is shared responsibility." That
you just can't make this [happen], one person can't do
that. Or a team of four people can't do it. But that
takes time. And that takes time. [T]hat's why it's so
important that time be spent building trust. I can't
do that in a year. Can I do that in a year is totally
unrealistic. That's why one of my goals is building
trust. It is not easy. I often, often, that's daily,
ask for wisdom and direction from my God. That I ask
for patience from my God, that I will remain focused,
in spite of all these things that I know. I know that
it takes time to build relationships. And that's what
we're building. [MJz3-2-92:7,8]

 

Honesty and integrity were of utmost importance to Mattie,
personally and professionally. Throughout the year she emphatically
stated that, above all, she wanted faculty to see her as having
integrity. From a professional standpoint, she saw that as critical
to building relationships founded on trust. Making an effort to
talk with people was necessary, but the bottom line for Mattie was
that people trust she is honest and straightforward.

It has always been important to me that people
believe what I say. Integrity, I must have that. You
may not like me, you may not agree with me, it really
doesn't [matter]. I guess it does matter, but the real
compliment is when people say that [Mattie Johnson]
cares about people and that if she tells you something

. it might not be correct, but at least that is
what she believes. That is a compliment.
[MJz9-lO-9lzl4]

145

She was particularly concerned about the "anti-administration"
attitude of some of the members of the steering committee--which,
loosely, was the governing body of SBM--who had strong union ties.
She indicated it was useless to think that they would automatically
trust her simply because the school was, ostensibly, site-based
management, shared decision making. Her perception was that she and
the members of the steering committee had not discussed her role or
theirs in the framework of site-based management, therefore, they
were unsure and tentative about what to expect from each other. She
believed that she needed to work with them individually and within
the group in order to build trust between her and them. She
indicated that communication, on a number of levels, was necessary
to establish enough trust to begin the process of defining their
roles and their mission. Only then, might they be able to work
together. And, that would take time.

Now what I sense with a few of site-based steering
committee members, that we are on opposite ends
because, one, we have not talked about it. We have not
talked about what is the role of a principal, what is
the role of the steering committee, and how do we
jointly work together. So right now, the trust factor
is not there. Is not there with a few of the members.

. With, let's see, probably three of those members
on there, that there has been a history of conflicts
with administration and that's a whole history. So,
you don't come right into a situation with a new person
that you don't know and suddenly that's going to
change. Okay? It's just not going to, and with some of
it . . . that just depends largely on what the motives
are here . . . But you've got some strong union people
on the site-based steering committee and some of them
come from an orientation of 'them against us.’ That's
a long history of it. . . . [W]e've had three strong
union people who have been accustomed, for whatever
reason--again, I don't understand--is that

 

146

administration is the enemy and that you've got to have

this tug of war. And that's what I don't want.

[MleO-29-9l:2,3]

Despite her initial intentions, communication and building
trust proved to be more difficult that she had imagined. About six
weeks into the school year, Mattie twisted her ankle, requiring her
to wear a removable cast and orthopedic shoes. That incident seemed
to be a major turning-point in the way she began to function and
think about her role as leader. Although she continued, on a
limited basis, to stand in the hallway outside her office between
classes, and to greet faculty each morning, she generally became
less visible about the building. The accident limited her mobility,
causing her to spend more time in her office. The more time she was
in the office, the more time she seemed to need to be there to
conference with people, take phone calls, or, perhaps do paperwork.
By December, I noticed that her door was rarely open. Faculty began
complaining about her inaccessibility. They complained about her
office hours; having to make appointments to talk with her rather
than just ”dropping in”; and her being out of the building so much.

Mattie appeared unaware of the changes she had made, although
they seemed more to have evolved from unplanned circumstances than
having resulted from conscious decisions. Reflecting at the end of
the year about faculty's frustration with her increasingly limited
visibility and access, she appeared torn--wanting to defend herself,
attempting to understand what was--and is--realistic, and yearning

to reach her ideals. One got the sense that she understood the

faculty's frustration with her; recognized that she wanted to move

147

away from their total dependence on her to an interdependent
relationship; yet struggled with the desire to be in control.

I saw teachers. I saw administrators . . . and
I said. "Whoa." [They] were unrealistic; they saw me
as being able to solve all of the problems, every hall
problem . . . But it makes a difference when you are
out here [in the halls]. . . . And that pays, being out
there, which I'm going to always be visible.
visibility is critical. But, visible in another sense
of being supportive and not being hands-on [emphasis
mine]. . . . I heard people [from outside the building]
say, ”I can't ever reach you.” And I didn't want that.
My secretaries were aggravated . . . they'd have to
hunt me down. So you don't want that. . . . I have to
delegate; I can't survive if I can't do that. . . . But
I didn't do as much being in here for those six weeks
[with her sprained ankle], put me so far behind with
observing classrooms. I'm not pleased with that. Now
that was a goal that I was going to actually be more in
classrooms. We have to make time to do that. That's
important. . . . [T]he staff members became critical
[of my not being in the halls and visiting classrooms].
You know, they saw that and it was important to me, and
I should have communicated that more to the staff .
I'm going to have to talk to them more and communicate
the fact that it's a team effort. That they're burying
me, they are literally burying me and I will become
resentful because I will not be able to keep up that
kind of pace . . . [MJ:6-25—92:4,5]

Listening to her, I had the sense that she bristled at the
notion that the faculty thought they could control her, or that they
seemed to think that she would be at their 'beck and call.’ Being a
leader, for Mattie, seemed to involve more than meeting faculty
needs; it meant fulfilling her role in the bureaucracy. But, I ask,
for what purposes-to better educate Division's students or to ensure

her own success within the bureaucratic hierarchy?

 

148

Having High Expectations for
Self, Staff, and Students

To Mattie, having high expectations for self, others, and
students was synonymous with a school staff that cares for and about
students. She believed that, as principal, she set the tone for
everyone in the building; therefore, she expected as much, or more,
of herself as she did from the staff. From her outward appearance
to the minute details of a report, Mattie consistently attempted to
model the best. As she said, whatever she assumed of staff, she was
willing to do first--patrol the halls, pick up debris in the halls,
get to know students on a personal level, show caring and
understanding toward colleagues, and so forth. She saw herself as
highly organized and efficient, not wanting to settle for anything
less than perfection.

I have high expectations of myself and [of] people

with whom I work. A leader sets the tone. In the

faculty meeting I was very up front with what I

expected and what they can expect from me and I won't

ask anything of anybody that I am not willing to do,

that I won't do out there first. . . . I'm my own worst

critic. If I satisfy me, then everybody else is more

than satisfied. [MJ:9-109l:3,4; 1-25-92z3]

Because she was willing to put forth maximum effort, she
expected faculty to do likewise. High expectations signified
diligence and quality, both of which Mattie believed should
constitute one's attitude toward work and learning. She expected
that each part of the individual's work responsibilities would be
carried out with care and accuracy, whether that meant filling out a

report for the school or district office; completing the master

schedule for a semester's classes; managing an athletic event with

149

pride, respect, and dignity or cleaning the cafeteria between lunch
periods. She did not want to settle for less.

I want the best, the brightest, the most committed
people who are positive, who have energy, who love
people, who really want to do their jobs .

Fortunately . . . here we are very blessed with a lot
of people who really love their work. I want[] to[] be
very clear with expectations of my goals and I have
said that to them [DHS faculty]. . . . When you expect
nothing, you get nothing. Simple as that. . . . I am
not a slave driver. I think people know that if we
work together, that they must produce. We must do,
that is what we are getting paid for. I don't like
lazy people. I like people who are caring and
nurturing and certainly I am not a perfectionist.

I do think that whatever we do, we must do it well.
[MJ:9-lO-9l:3,4]

Mattie did not want to settle for less where students were
concerned, either. Particularly important, was that high
expectations for faculty reflect expectations for students.

I see caring for students in the sense that you
have high expectations. High expectations, believing

that all students can and will learn. High
expectations. That you communicate with students .

on a daily basis. . . . You're concerned if fifty
percent of the students are not passing. And you don't
immediately blame the student. . . . [S]howing that you

care means that you're going to communicate with the
parent and the parent will become your ally, not your
enemy. That you're going to join hands. You're going
to ask, ”What can‘I do?” You're going to show
compassion. . . . You'll smile at the student. .
One can be strict . . . I believe in that, but one can
set those limits and one can do that in a very caring,
compassionate way and still get results. . . . [You]
must truly feel that you can make a difference, and
that you care about people, [that] you care about the
students, really believe that they can learn. and want
to make them learn . . . [MJz6-25-92:8,9]

At the same time that she had high expectations of herself and
others, she was aware of her drive to be the best, drive she saw as

arising not only from her innate personality, but because she was

150

female. When I initially questioned her about her position as the
first female high school principal in Newtown, she implied that as a
women, she was inclined to work harder and longer in order to
'prove' herself. She generalized that attitude to include virtually
all women in positions such as hers and with ambitions to "climb the
executive ladder” [MJz9-lO-9l-ll]. Because she was aware of her
tendency to push herself to extremes, she had as a personal goal
learning to delegate responsibility to others. She hoped that would
enable her to relinquish the need to be a ”super woman,” and to
establish and maintain a balance in her life, thus, encouraging her
staff to do likewise.

Women have to be very careful about being super

people, super women. I am not saying that [men] don't

work as hard. I am not saying that at all. I think

that they don't work the same way we do. We drive

ourselves. I want to be very conscious of that and not

feel[] that [I] have to do it all. I want to actually

work on the delegation and responsibilities. I don't

want to fall into that trap where I feel that I must do

it all. [MJz9-lO-9lz8].

Because she was aware of her tendency to drive herself and,
therefore others, she had as an expectation of herself and her staff
members to find and maintain a balance in life. To her that meant
having a life and an identity beyond Division High School.
Throughout the year, she reiterated her struggle to find and
maintain personal equilibrium.

Planning and fighting for your--time is something

that one has to be conscious of all of the time . .

I want, have to have something else to go on in my life

other than being principal of the high school."
[MJz9-lO-9l:2; 6-25-92z3]

151

She was also frustrated with teachers who seemed to resist the
notion of balance in their lives as she interpreted it. Her motives
for desiring teachers to spend less time involved in their jobs did
not seem to arise solely out of care and concern for them as
persons, but out of concern, as principal, for their ability to be
the ”brightest people" who had ”energy to do their jobs."

I have actually talked with staff members and
said, ”Now look, I'm not sure if you've ever heard this
from a principal, but you need to go home." . . . If
one has a family, and even if you don't, [you need]
time with [] families. . . . When people tell me they
stay here . . . that does not guarantee quality. There
is only so much that human beings can do and you will
wear yourself out, become irritable, less productive.

. . I'm concerned about . . . people spending too
much time going in circles when they ought to be at
home with their families or go to, whatever they do for
recreation. I'm not impressed, not by any twist of the
imagination, with those who, when people tell me that
they're here until eight and nine o'clock. That
doesn't impress me. Because they can't last long .
you want people with balance in their lives.
[MJ:9-lO-91:4; 6-15-92:9].

I question Mattie's solely caring attitude regarding balance in
faculty's lives. I felt there was a sense of expediency on her
part. There were too many substitute teachers in the building on a
daily basis already; she wanted teachers to maintain emotional and
physical health so they would contribute to the building, not
deplete it of its resources. In that sense, she may not have
explicitly been caring toward faculty, but was caring about the

students, about the overall management of the school.

152

Accepting One's Humanity—-Self and Others

Mattie was torn between wanting to be and do the best, and
recognizing her, as well as and others,’ humanity, the inevitability
of being less than perfect. She said she was not a perfectionist,
but she had to work to accept that thought. As she talked about her
humanity-the inescapable fact that she would make mistakes--I had
the feeling she was trying to convince herself that she had to
acknowledge that in herself. Accepting less than perfection was not
easy for Mattie, especially as a woman, and as a woman making her
way in the bureaucratic hierarchy.

One of the things that I have learned to say is,

”Yes, if you have any questions about whether or not a
woman can be a high school principal, the answer is

'yes.' I know that. . . . I am not a super human
being. I get tired, I hurt, my feelings can get
[hurt], I make mistakes--a11 those things. . . . I want

to be human. That human beings make mistakes because

it is all right because all of us, if we live long

enough, if we do anything, then we make a mistake.

[MJ:9-lO-9l:l,3]

Accepting people's humanity comes with the expectation that if
one made a mistake, s/he would acknowledge and learn from it. To
Mattie, admitting one's failure, taking responsibility for one's
actions, indicated one's integrity and desire to improve oneself.
Included in "taking responsibility" was Mattie's expectation that
the person would find a way to correct the mistake, thus, increasing
his/her knowledge and competence. Her responsibility was allowing
people to make mistakes. She illustrated that at the beginning of
the school year with reference to her deputy principal.

My deputy just came to me and I had asked him to

do something. I know that he is new in that position.
I have another new assistant principal and I am new, so

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153

we really have a new team and all of us are really

working to stay ahead of the game. But he was supposed

to have gotten something in and didn't. Well, he is a

human being. He said he had it and it got put in

another stack, and that can happen. . . . [B]ut I want

to use it now as a lesson for him. Being

understanding. Now if that gets to be a pattern, then

I have to speak to him about that . . . I gave an

assignment to [him] and I know that to keep from

burning myself out that I have to allow him to do it.

Find a way [to let him] make his mistakes and learn

from them [MJ:9-lO-92:3,8].

Multiple and repeated errors, however, were not acceptable. As
‘ the year progressed, the deputy principal continued to have
difficulty with several of his job responsibilities, chief of which
was constructing the master schedule of classes for the second
semester. I perceived the relationship between him and Mattie to
lose all pretense of warmth and caring, and become one of
forbearance and tolerance. Mattie's caring and concern focused on

how the deputy's work affected those within Division High, and less

on the feelings of the deputy, per se.

Ministering to Faculty's and Students' Needs

Foundational to Mattie in the development of a school
organization and climate that manifests caring was the necessity to
minister to the needs of the people within. I specifically chose
the word, 'minister,’ because she described that aspect of her role
as principal as "a calling" [MJz3-2-92;12]. She did not choose it,
but resigned herself to it, for the calling was ”a gift that God has
given me, and that I should not shun that, and that people see it"

[MJz3-2-92:12].

 

154

The "gift” to which she is referring was her sensitivity toward
the needs of others, and her ability to listen to and counsel staff
members. She viewed those as gifts because people seek her out for
advice, comfort, and just to talk. She put a high priority on
making herself available to staff members experiencing personal
difficulties--divorce, impending surgery. death in the family, or
other family problems. Additionally, she interpreted her calling as
being available to settle day-today disputes, frustrations, or
misunderstandings among teachers. In her estimation, that calling
required more of her time and energy than she had ever anticipated.
At times she wrestled with what she expected of herself and what
others expected of her as principal. Was she making the best choice
when she chose to minister to staff in lieu of patrolling the halls
or observing a classroom? She believed she did, for when "people
are hurting and if I don't listen to them, then that is going to
impact what happens to children in the classroom.”.

Right now we have about ten people who are going
through some traumatic situations, traumatic to where
you have to check on them . . . . I told this
individual. " [] What you do is you tell [my
secretary] that you need to see me. That will be a
message that anything that is going on, she can change
it.” . . . [There] are about five people on this staff
who are going through some divorces. Divorces, four of
them are bitter. Bitter divorces where they need time
to talk. . . . This is the part of the job that has
been a real challenge. A real challenge. . . . A part
of me want[s] to always be visible out there for
students, but it can't always happen. [A] person called
me and said, ”I need to talk to YOU." I could pick up
on the voice. "You just have to have some time. I can
come now. Someone is in my classroom.” So I had to
switch gears. . . . Another individual has asked me to
give her time to explain something because what she
wants is to have a conference with me and about five
other staff members because something needs to be

155

settled. Now that part is a biggy. Squabbles or
problems that happen between, among staff is part of
[the job] that you don't anticipate. That happens on a
daily basis. . . . [M]ost of what I do is listen. To
listen takes time. People are hurting and if I don't
listen to them, then that is going to impact what
happens to children in the classroom. If a person has
been battered at night, if that person does hot have
some relief, then what kind of job is that person going
to be able to do in the classroom with children? If a
person is dealing with [his/her] own child who is now
doing what he or she feels shouldn't be done--very
painful things-~then what do you think is really going
to happen in the classroom? He is a human being. If
somebody is afraid of a spouse, what kind of job [is
she going to do)? Or, if a person is on the verge of a
breakdown . . . these are some real issues that are
happening right now that I have to deal with.
[MJz3-2-92-11,12].

And deal with them she did. In every school I'm sure there are
teachers and students who must handle an array of personal problems.
At Division High, however, many of the problems centered an
violence, affecting teachers and students either directly or
peripherally. Spousal abuse, drug-related incidents within families,
and murder and mugging of one teacher's relatives all occurred in
barely half a school year. In addition, one teacher had open-heart
surgery; another had cancer surgery and died unexpectedly of a heart
attack; there were several natural deaths of parents and other
relatives of staff members; and major surgery for several spouses or
close relatives of faculty. Again, all this in less than a full
school-year. Add to this the traumatic events that occurred in the
student body and one began to wonder what 'normal' was. Those were
the reasons behind Mattie's decision to make ministering to faculty

and students a high priority.

156

Besides listening, Mattie made programmatic changes to
facilitate caring for those "who are hurting." One of the first
changes she made as principal at DHS was to initiate grief
counseling for students and for faculty. Within a month of school's
starting, a student had been shot and killed. By January, three
more students had died violently. Although the first incident put
into practice what to her had been only vaguely thought-through
ideas, she knew long before she was appointed as principal that
grief counseling would be an integral part of 'her' school.

Mattie, in the various positions she held within the school
system, saw the trauma that students were expected to manage on
their own: She also saw that students were becoming hardened, that
is, they were not allowing themselves to feel. The latter served to
help them cope with adversity, but, on the other hand, allowed them
to lose hope for themselves and for their future. The students,
rather than examining their thoughts about the violence they
witnessed or experienced, accepted it as an inevitable part of their
lives and for which there was nothing that could be done. Through
grief counseling, Mattie opened up the possibility for students to
question the violence; to question their feelings; to allow
themselves to recognize and, perhaps, feel their pain and anger.
Mattie hoped that students would begin to feel again. She hoped
that if they acknowledged their emotions, they would begin to allow
themselves to think about their futures and the possibility of their

working to change the lifestyle they think is unchangeable.

 

 

157

Mattie understood, also, that teachers needed help with grief.
Many of Division's faculty have taught there for fifteen or more
years. During that time, they witnessed the violence of
desegregation where students rioted and faculty literally fought
among themselves. Every year, some teachers learned about a current
or former student who was maimed or killed. One teacher noted that
in thirteen years, she had twelve students die violently. Like
students, teachers tried to distance themselves from their grief by
rationalizing the situations, or by burying it within themselves
because they must teach their next class of thirty-plus students.

At Mattie's former school, I observed a teacher, who at the
beginning of class, was informed by a student that a male classmate
had been shot the night before. The teacher was visibly shaken and
tried to elicit more information about the shooting from the
student. The student flippantly replied that the young man had been
dealing drugs and he knew this would happen eventually. As the
teacher continued trying to find out more details, the student
seemed to have forgotten the incident and was more interested in who
was doing what after school. The teacher, on the other hand,
continued to ask questions, but eventually stopped as the students
appeared disinterested in the incident and wanted to get on with the
class. Talking with the teacher later in the day, he told me that
he had been teaching in the district twenty-five years, and no
matter how many times he heard about a student's being hurt or

killed, he was still shaken. But, he responded with resignation,

158

what could one do about it, but to go on and pretend it didn't
happen.

Mattie's hope was that grief counseling would allow teachers to
deal with their feelings so they did not have to pretend the
incidents hadn't occurred; that if teachers were allowed to feel in
these traumatic circumstances, they might be able to begin to feel
with and for the students they taught; and that they might begin to
see students who are not simply in their classes, but students who
have a future.

In addition to grief counseling, Mattie supported teachers who
wanted to begin a program of crisis intervention with students. In
a way, this program built on grief counseling because students
learned, with the guidance of trained peers, alternatives to
fighting and violence to settle arguments and disagreements.

Instead of physically fighting to resolve a verbal dispute, students
were brought together in a room, mediated by pears, and instructed
to talked out the disagreement until they came to consensus. If the
latter did not occur within a session, another session was
scheduled. According to Mattie, the teachers involved, and the
student mediators, crisis intervention 'worked' virtually in every
case, preventing what would otherwise have resulted in beatings or
worse.

Mattie spent time counseling students. She met with a senior
and her grandparents to let them know the young lady was not excused
from school that day ("Gir1, we got to get you graduated!.. [Your

grandparents] are working too hard. You need to graduate for them;

159

she performed crisis intervention with two boys who were on the
verge of physical combat, but who left her office after shaking
hands and apologizing to each other; she invited several students to
a special luncheon to celebrate their academic achievement; and she
invited a young girl whose father had died into her office to talk
with her. Those were but a few incidents that I observed. Students,
as persons, were important to Mattie, and she tried to make time to
listen to them.

Ministering to faculty's and students' needs was critical to
Mattie's understanding of her role as a caring principal. As she
said, "Most people really want to be validated as worthwhile human
beings. To care about them. It does not take much. You can't be

superficial about it, but you just genuinely care.” [MJz3-2-92-13].

Building Community

Mattie's 'ministering' now became her 'ministry.’ Her most
important goal in the community was to visit the neighborhood
churches which served Division's students. She met with the local
Concerned Pastors' Council to seek permission to visit their
congregations during designated Sunday services to talk about the
need for support from the church as a body, and the parishioners as
individual parents and community members, to help improve Division
High for students. [The Concerned Pastors' Council was a group of
pastors committed to improving the community--safety, welfare,
education, and so on.] Her plea to the congregations ranged from

the need for volunteer help at the school and for financial aid, to

 

160

the need for parents and community members to convince students of
the importance of an education and to make sure students stayed in
school.

Mattie worked to bolster sagging participation and attendance
of the parent advisory council. She encouraged the liaison between
the school and community to sponsor events that would bring parents
to the school. One such event was a breakfast in May for parents
and students who would be ninth graders in the fall to meet
teachers, counselors and selected students. Mattie
advertised-~through the media, through the churches, through letters
to parents, and through word of mouth--the open house for parents
and students in the fall; it was the largest turnout in years.
Teachers, used to spending four hours at an open house to see five
to ten parents wander through, witnessed over a hundred last fall
[NGzS-l9-92z2]. Mattie asked the journalism teacher to start a
newsletter for parents. It contained information about happenings
in the school, generally; information from specific teachers; and
information concerning major events or requirements that affect
students. The letter was sent to the homes several times throughout
the year. Finally, Mattie seemed always to be available to
parents-sometimes to teachers' annoyance.

Of the five goals that Mattie had at the beginning of the year,
that of improving school-community relations was the one that she
declared she achieved, and to a much higher degree than she had

anticipated. During my final interview with her, she commented,

 

 

161

I expected cooperation, but I did not expect it to
the degree that I received it. Just outstanding to the
degree that they would call and ask, "Now what can we
do to help? What can we do?" They have been supportive
all along by their presence and by their money. And,
oh yes. Had the president of the parent advisory
council to come and say about two representatives with
him, to say, "What else can we do? We want to help." So
that was refreshing. That was just--it's just a
comforting feeling to know that you have the community
backing you. You see, so therefore, you're not in it
alone. EMJz6-25-92zl]

Reflections on Mattie's
Understandings of Caring

Caring to Mattie was intense and personal. It was much like
Noddings suggests. Mattie attempted to understand--to get into the
skin--of others in order to understand how to care for them. Mattie
saw herself as care-giver to staff and students. She felt their
need for caring and was determined to do all that she could in order
to be nurturing and sensitive. She took her call to minister
seriously.

I seems to me, however, that Mattie had difficulty receiving
care from others within the school. At times, she reflected
Noddings' perception of the one-caring who may at the same time be
the one receiving caring. .That is, there were times that Mattie's
attempts to care for someone were really cries to be cared for.
Particularly, in a new position in which she was uncomfortable
dealing with ambiguity and often feeling she had only limited
control, her acts of caring, at times, resulted in others allowing

her to care for them. She, then, felt cared-for, that is, she felt

competent and in a sense, in control.

162

Mattie as care-receiver was a difficult, if not an impossible
role for her to choose to play. She indicated that she often felt
alone and isolated, that she had one very good friend with whom she
could really talk, and felt the need to build a network among the
female secondary school principals in her regional conference.
Never, though, did she indicate that she believed there was a
possibility of receiving caring from staff members. A genuine
concern that she held was that she did not have control of her
situation as a new principal as much as she thought she should have.
That disturbed her and seemed to make her feel not only
uncomfortable, but less than competent. SHE was there to lead and
to minister, not to be ministered to.

Caring for Mattie also seemed to mean attention to the
maintenance of bureaucracy. She ultimately was the leader and,
therefore, responsible for the success or failure of the school.
Building trust, pride, and community not only were caring toward
individuals, but were potentially the means by which DHS could
regain respect within the district hierarchy and education
community. Although she talked of working together with the
faculty--of collaborating--she made the decision regarding who would
collaborate and when.

Caring seemed to involve her vision and how it could be
accomplished within the bureaucracy that she seemed to understand
and respect. While I continued to see caring and power as binary

opposites, she seemed comfortable using both together.

163

MATTIE JOHNSON - POWER

Mattie wanted to be known as nurturing, caring, and
understanding, a "people person.” There was another very important
part of her, however. People liked her because she was a
"take-charge,” [KG:10-3-9l:l3], "no-nonsense” [HleO-3-9lzl] person,
and because she was firm in her beliefs and was capable of taking a
strong stand [HF:123-92:33]. Characteristics that she valued about
herself included her preparedness, organization, and ability to set
goals and develop plans to achieve them. She saw herself as others
saw her--in control [MJ:lO-8-9l:23].

Through the years she has seen herself very much a leader-~one
who has a vision, has a sound sense of how to reach it, and provides
the nurturing and encouragement to staff in order to attain it. As
principal, however, she struggled with herself concerning what it
meant to be a leader in a school that was community-oriented, one
that was committed to shared decision making, to collaboration, to
interdependence of staff and administration. She seemed to wrestle
with her notions of control, authority, and caring, particularly as
she felt they had been imposed on her by others--superintendent,
board of education, university, business community, and faculty.

Her discomfort lead me to question: Are caring and power mutually
exclusive? Is it possible to be both caring and controlling? Is it
necessary to have power over in order to achieve a cultural climate
and organizational structure that supports caring, or is that notion

an oxymoron?

164

Thinking about Mattie in relation to power--that is, power
over, power that is dominating--was not as easy for me as seeing her
in relation to caring. The power relationship did not seem as clean
or as unambiguous for me. As I contemplated that thought, I
realized that a key component in my assessment of her caring was her
awareness of wanting to be caring, of her talking about herself as
caring, of her recognizing the importance caring had in her
conception of herself as a leader, and of her believing that caring
among staff and students was critical for good teaching and learning
to occur. 'Power,’ on the other hand, was not mentioned; neither
was 'authority' or 'control.' Power, implying authority or control,
was only indirectly addressed as ”accountability” or
”responsibility” in conjunction with her role of building
administrator. However, she did appear to assume her possession of
power through her position.

Her conflict seemed to arise from having to 'give up' power
through sharing decision making and management, a move in the
direction that I identified as 'caring.’

Unlike her straightforward, confident talk about, and acts of,
caring, her use of 'power over' manifested itself in seemingly
uneven-and, sometimes, unexpected--ways. At times she seemed to
stand straight and tall, wielding power like a magnificent
protectress of The Good; at others, she seemed to be buffeted by the
power of others, never fully losing control, but fighting to
maintain her balance. Perhaps, she did not see power in caring as

an issue; one could care and be powerful simultaneously, for one

165

used power, not for one's own aggrandizement, but to uplift those
who had less or no power.

Despite the unevenness, she tended to frame her use and pursuit
of power in an ethic of caring. Mattie saw her control and
authority, not as ends in themselves, but as ways to gain ground to
build communication and trust; to achieve high expectations,
integrity, and community; and to minister to the individuals---to
realize a school and district where people were committed to caring
for each other. And, as she gained ground for an ethic of caring,
she contiguously prepared her way to ”move up” within the

traditional hierarchy.

w r - Wo k w e a orces

To most people, Mattie's beginning as principal could not have
had a better start. Everyone believed in her and seemed to support
her. She also inherited new partnerships with university and local
business groups who were committed to helping the school financially
and educationally 'turn around' this urban school where students
dropped out at an extraordinary rate [about 700 students began as
ninth graders and only about 230 of that class would graduate],
where students' academic achievement was considerably below the
state and national averages, and whose students faced lives of
poverty and violence. If Mattie were a poker player, she might have
said that her year began with a full house. But, instead, the house
was built of cards, standing an a weak foundation and precariously

balanced. The outsiders saw only the facade, aiming their help at

166

strengthening portions that appeared weak; Mattie was concerned
about the foundation and the quality of the whole design. Thus
begins the story of my struggle to understand Mattie's use of power
in terms of my perception of her as a caring leader.

Because she inherited the partnerships with the university and
business groups, she also inherited their expectations. These
expectations were based on several things: their initial contacts
with the previous principal, their own assessments and assumptions
about Division, and their own needs.

Mattie appeared to put as much effort into keeping those
outsiders, that is, the university and business groups, at arm's
length as she did into building relationships with the community and
staff. She seemed to fear a 'take-over' by them. She believed
their intentions were sincere, but there was a reality that they and'
her staff either were unaware of, or did not want to face. These
groups were outsiders who had limited understanding of DHS and of
the impact that the school's history had on the present. Their
offers of money and help to teachers beleaguered by a lack of
resources and burdened by the citizenry's negative perception of
DHS; their expectations of immediate and dramatic change; and their
assumptions that the DHS staff would want and need the same changes
they thought necessary caused her to fear another round of school
reform that would do nothing more than increase the patchwork that
already existed. And because many faculty members desperately wanted
to make positive changes for students, they viewed those offers of

help uncritically. Mattie, therefore, used her authority as

 

167

principal to control the changes within DHS and the rate at which

they would occur in order to give staff the time to identify its own
and the school's needs. The university and the business groups both
indicated they wanted to work with Division High, and Mattie wanted

to be sure that is what happened.

We are going to have to work out some things with
[the university]. . . . So that we are up front with
each other and we can work together. Things are going
to evolve and with everything it takes time. It does
take time. Staff members will determine how much and
how soon. [It's] a very good program, good things
started, but you can't push; it does take time.
[MleO-2-9lzl]

Throughout the year, Mattie emphasized that as much as the
outside groups wanted to help, there were pressing issues within the
school that needed her and the staff's attention. Unless those
groups could understand that, their 'help' would be nothing more
than a hindrance. Consequently, Mattie continued, as was
interpreted by many faculty, to drag her feet--or even dig her heels
in, according to some--to prevent major changes from occurring too
rapidly and without proper forethought and planning. That is, she
wanted to stop the idea of change from luring staff--and,
ultimately, students--into a rocketing roller coaster ride of
superficial programs that quickly plunged into nothingness.

We have to be very careful not to push ahead

things that are going to happen here. They are going

to happen. It is a matter of time . . . . The longer

you are here, you will understand some of the in-house

things that we are going to have to work out. We

cannot deal with the pressures from without until we

are ready. There are staff members that are ready.

They want to use the resources . . . . [But] you can't

push. One of the things that you and I both know that
there have been many good programs that are in what i

 

168

call the education graveyard because we didn't prepare

the market for them, we did not assess. It does take

time. [MleO-2—9lzl]

Since I was involved with the university—school partnership,
Mattie visited with me, formally and informally, about her thoughts
regarding the university's role at DHS. She recognized that
Division needed assistance in order to make the magnitude of changes
she envisioned, and that the partnership with the university had the
potential to contribute to an improved school organization and
curriculum. The idea of a collaborative effort was appealing to
her. However, she also believed that no one, or no organization,
was truly altruistic; if something was given, something was wanted
in return. She sensed that the university team came with an agenda
of its own. That in itself was not offensive. The problem for
Mattie, however, lay in the fact that it was unspoken. There was a
contradiction in terms: the university entered Division with the
intent of collaboratively working to improve the school, that
teachers and members of the university team would share information,
and would work together shoulder to shoulder to discover what
Division had and needed. But, instead, the university folks seemed
to tell her and the staff about Division's needs.

Collaboration, she concluded, was not occurring. Rather, she
saw the distrust that some DHS teachers had for the
university-school partnership concept, and nothing being done by the
university to allay that distrust; she perceived disorganization

when university team members were unable to supply her with what

seemed like obvious information--what was happening with the

 

169

projects involving DHS teachers and the team or who was going to be
in the building at particular times; and she perceived unclear goals
for the university-school effort when she received contradictory
statements from various people [fnzll-4-9l].

For five months after her appointment as principal, the
university faculty treated Mattie as the invisible Black woman. No
one from the university contacted her to discuss strategies for
working together. No one from the university informed her of the
work with faculty that had been done to date. No faculty members
even paid her the courtesy of introducing themselves until
mid-October, six weeks after school had begun, and five and a half
months after university faculty began working with DHS teachers.
Although Mattie made no mention of this, a close colleague of hers
told me that Mattie felt she had been ignored primarily because she
is Black. According to the colleague, Mattie believed the
university staff simply expected her to be thrilled with their
attentions and help. She had the feeling that she was being used as
a pawn to reflect kudos those people would receive for helping a
Black female principal put this poor, urban school 'on track.’

. Whether or not the colleague's interpretation was accurate, the
university's treatment of Mattie was an affront to her personally
and professionally. It was obvious to me that Mattie struggled to
remain dignified and professional as she entered into an inherited
schooluniversity partnership with faculty whose behavior had been

arrogant and unprofessional.

170

Throughout the year, Mattie felt a lack of professional
respect and colleague-ship as university team members came in with
their preplanned agenda. Despite the collaboration rhetoric, they,
like in myriad school reforms of the past, would use the school to
accomplish the tasks important to their goals. She did not see
their understanding of her role as principal, nor did she experience
their appreciation for her position as a new principal. [Although
Mattie would not expect this, I would add, there was no appreciation
of her ground-breaking role in Newtown as the first female high
school principal.]

I hope no one has developed something outside of
us [DHS] and that [they] are going to push it in
because that won't work either. That will not work.
Each school is different. . . . There is a common
vision, a common mission, but this school has to chart
it's [own] course. Certainly with their help. We
can't do it by ourselves. First, that is the thing.

We do need help. Everyone does. I think that we ought
to be excited about the notion that there seems to be a
thrust. There seems to be the theme [that] people are
now willing to come and join hands and work together,
but you can't have a driving force. People will push
back. You cannot have that plan already mapped out and
say, ”Now here it is. You fit around it." It just won't
work. As a new principal, there is just so much I have
to learn. So much I have to get under my belt and [I]
just don't need any bickering, any pulling, or pushing
or prodding. That is not what I had in mind when we
looked at any group coming in. You want to help. What
I said to staff is, on the other hand, "Now keep in
mind when people spend their time and money, they must
have a say in what is to take place. That is the other
side of it.” All of it takes time. . . . [W]e have to
communicate and keep our eyes open and be very
sensitive to a whole history for this particular
school. [MleO-29lz2]

Mattie also had concerns about DHS's partnership with the local

business group. The representative committee came with good

171

intentions, but with limited knowledge regarding the functioning of
schools, generally, and about Division High, specifically. The year
prior to Mattie's becoming principal, the committee came to DHS with
a proposal to fund teachers for innovative projects and/or to assist
in projects just underway. The participants were to outline their
projects/activities, giving the purpose, the student outcomes, and a
detailed account of the needed resources, including funding.
Several teachers saw the proposal as a way to involve students in
activities, previously unavailable due to lack of funds, to
strengthen students' understandings of a particular subject area;
other teachers envisioned larger organizational changes--schools
within a school--to better serve students; and still other teachers
saw the proposal as a way to restructure their classes to better
meet their own needs and to purchase equipment they wanted. There
was little, if any, consideration as to how the individual proposals
for teacher-initiated programs/activities would support the overall
mission of the school, or how they would fit into the overall
curriculum. In some cases, the proposals were quite self-serving,
'having no sound academic basis for students and no clear student
outcomes. The committee, however, approved all proposals within
'financial' limits, and if they met reasonable timeliness and
outcomes according to business standards.

For the long term, Mattie thought several of the proposed
changes had merit. However, proposals requiring major changes were
occurring so fast and furiously that not enough time and thought was

given to how they all fit into the total picture of Division High.

172

She, herself, felt that because of the influence of the business
group with its offers of funding, the pace set for change was much
faster than she was comfortable with. She wanted the staff to think
about what was important for the school as a whole; that is, Mattie
was a need for individual teachers to think beyond their own wants
and desires to the articulation of a project into the existing
programs and projected goals for student learning. She did not see
that happening.

She perceived the business group's offer of money to do 'things
to improve student learning' to be a signal for the faculty,
conditioned to function with minimal resources, to generate
proposals for projects, regardless of their pedagogical and academic
soundness, and regardless of how they articulated with other
classes, courses, or projects. She sensed a feeling of urgency
among the staff, as though the funding they would receive depended
on the alacrity--not quality--with which they submitted their
proposals. Mattie feared that some faculty members viewed money as
the primary factor involved in making changes.

People see money as a way of doing all of these

things, not recognizing that it takes time and it takes

hard work, and . . . you build a foundation and move

from there. And that has not happened. . . . So,

therefore, there were those who wanted to take

advantage of the fact that we'll take your money, but

we won't be accountable for anything. And that

concerned me. But even that, we worked through that in

knowing, the assurance that no one had a timetable, but

we actually had to just go to full bloom. . . . [W]e

could in fact take our time. [MleO-28-9lz9,ll].

Mattie's focus was on systematic change, keeping in mind the

'big picture,’ the ways in which each new idea could affect the

173

total school. The representatives of the business community were
infringing on this process. In fact, Mattie's perception seemed to
be that rather than promoting collaboration, both the university and
business groups were fragmenting the staff and programs even more.
Their offers of funding and other material and human resources,
although not undesirable, were to Mattie another hurdle put in her
way of working with faculty.

Because we had to sort out some things here, the

staff will continue to have to learn to work together

as a team. And you have superstars, here, as I see

them. Superstars. They are wonderful people. They

are committed for the most part, to kids. But they're

superstars, each having his or her own agenda.

[MJz6-25-92z2]

She sensed that the university and business groups, although
perhaps well-intentioned, were not, as she liked to say, ”singing
from the same hymn book” as she was. That is, they were operating
at their own cadence and in tune to their own needs. That caused
even more fragmentation among staff, as the two groups overlapped in
their work with faculty, but functioned independently of each other
and, in essence, of DHS.

Communication between the groups was limited at best. The
communication that did exist occurred between the management levels
of the groups. Within the university team, the people who actually
worked with the teachers rarely were privy to the information
exchanged at the higher levels of the bureaucracy. Lack of
communication caused misunderstandings between DHS staff and

representatives of each of the outside sources, as faculty often

heard one thing from one group and another from the other. Like

174

deprived children, some teachers tried to play one group against the
other to garner the most resources and/or support, or to exert
pressure on the other group--or Mattie-—for their particular
project. Mattie felt squeezed in the middle of two feuding
'helpers.’

But I also had [the university] at the same time,

also having both the [local business group] and all of

these groups not quite sure about each other and not

quite sure about their agendas was overwhelming at

first. It was a surprise, the fight--and fight is a

strong word--disagreement over turf, I saw that very

clearly . . . I saw that [the university] and the

[local business group] were pulling at each other and

not clear, not comfortable with each other. I think

they got better. I think that they had to work

together and so I believe that I was going to have to

say some things very clearly to both, that you only

have to get your acts together and that, cause we're

[Division High] getting caught in the middle, and staff

can see that. [MJz6-25-92z2]

Given the above situations with the university and business
partnerships, Mattie had two choices: either conform to their wishes
and take what they offered--Division High did need the resources and
the teachers were eager to cooperate--or resist and, perhaps, risk
losing the resources and, possibly, her support from some faculty
members. The latter action would effectively acknowledge a struggle
between Mattie and the outside groups for control over--for power
over--the changes made at DHS, which would, in effect, determine the
future direction of the school and the leadership. The latter
action also had the potential to set up a power struggle between
Mattie and the faculty. Mattie chose to resist.

Mattie resisted by not overtly opposing their ideas for change,

but by resisting their impositions and implicit demands. She

175

attended meetings called by the groups, particularly by the
university, only at her convenience and, then rarely, if ever,
staying for the entire time. She stipulated her rules determining
her participation in the partnerships, particularly the university,
and ignored situations or 'obligations' that did not meet those
rules. She allowed people, including her own teachers, to 'spin
their wheels' on projects she did not want begun at that particular
time by encouraging them to work on their ideas and to get faculty
support for them, while she stood passively by. The effect of the
latter, despite support from the external groups, was either to
dramatically limit the speed at which changes would occur, or to
sound the death-knell for a project she appeared to not want to
support.

I saw Mattie's resistance as a declaration of power--of her
power to determine what, if any, influence the university and
business groups would have at DHS. I perceived her silently
announcing so all could hear that the right to change Division High
School would remain with those who were a part of it--teachers,
students, administrators, and parents. It appeared that she saw the
need to exert power--authority and control--in order to someday
effect caring.

The themes of 'hidden agendas' and of expecting too much too
soon permeated Mattie's conversation from October through June. She
felt having to deal with the two external groups added to the strain
of learning her role and of trying to bring the staff together to

determine the direction that Division High should go. The

176

university and local business groups demanded--not asked for-~her
time, her assistance, her cooperation--and her appreciation. There
appeared to be an assumption within each of those groups that they
would determine what was best for Division High School and they,
therefore, would orchestrate the needed changes. Mattie, however,
believed otherwise: she and the staff knew what was best for
Division High and must be allowed to establish and pursue their own
goals at their own speed. If the external groups truly wanted to
assist, they had to learn to collaborate with her and the staff;
they needed to make the effort to get to know the community of

Division High School.

In terms of my own expectation. . . . I have to
say now wait. Wait. This is pretty much on time. This
is pretty much, as things go. . . . And what I had to

make sure, from my standpoint is that my boss
[Curriculum Director for Secondary Education] was not
expecting something, or the superintendent was not
expecting something. And when I got that reassurance,
that it does take time, and then, I also have to
deliver that same message to the [business community
and to the university] and say, ”It takes time.”
Because I had a sense that there were some forces out
there that were, and could be expected as having some
unrealistic expectations [of us]. So during winter
break, I spent some time-I won't go into all the
details--a conference with [a business representative],
[the head of the business group] the week before; I had
a chance to talk with [the university representative],
and I'm going to have a chance to talk with [the other
university representative], and I'm going to have

another conversation with [both of them]. . . . Having
all of these people in here, and the tugs that are
taking place . . . has made it [adjusting to her job as
principal and attempting to initiate and make changes]
even more difficult. . . . it drains the energy now.
However, we have to deal with that. . . . [We're] not

going to be driven because at least I've got to have
that much of a sense of what's good for this building.
. [W]e' re going to do this [participate in changes
with help from the university and the business
community] slowly. Now we're going to talk about a

177

real change and we talk about true change, it's going
to take time. . . . If [the university people] are
going to be here, if you're truly committed to [helping
Division High School], then if you're talking about
change, it's not going to be done [immediately]. We
will start this. . . . We will start to see some real
things by the time I leave here. . . . I've said the
same thing to the [business community committee]. You
see, what has really hurt is that some people have some
agendas before they came here, and that's not going to
work. Now we can play games. . . . we can play the
game and some folks can take your money, but nothing
[will really change]. . . . So we will determine what
it is that we want people, resources to do. . . . What
does the school need? . . . If you come already with a
set of [changes] it will not work. It will not work.
[Emphasis Mattie's.] So, I'm going to hold fast to
that. . . . We certainly know that we have to do things
differently [from other schools]. But, we have to
assess what it is that we're doing now. But teachers,
those who work in those classrooms, they'll determine.

. The portion of what bothers me, really bothers
me, there's not enough time. That's a serious mistake
for you [the university] to come in and think it's
going to happen overnight. That was a real concern
when I came in, as I've said before, that someone was
expecting miracles. . . . But to recognize that it
[change] does take time, and history as an
administrator has told me that it does, but that you're
really setting yourself up if you will not allow that
time. So, having the goals of learning the
community--the community meaning the students, the
staff--talking to everyone one on one, and getting a
sense of purpose and mission, also the goal of actually
learning [MJz3-2-92:l,2,3,4; 6-25-92:1,2].

Mattie used her authority to 'protect' Division High from the
power of those external to the school system and community. There
was no question in her mind that she was responsible for the future
of that building and would do all in her power to maintain control
over DHS. If Mattie perceived the basis for collaboration as mainly
rhetoric, perhaps she saw no other recourse than 'power over' until
the others could hear her well enough to talk with her and not at

her. She did not seem to be compromised by her use of power over,

178

viewing it as the means by which she could fend off forces that had
the potential to undermine her goal of establishing Division High as

a school that was fundamentally a place of caring.

Maintaining Power - Balancing School
and District Bureaucratic Expectations

Working within the building's and school's bureaucratic system
presented different set of concerns for Mattie regarding power.
Unlike her confident use of 'power over' with groups external to the
school system, she appeared to be uncertain about her use of 'power
over' with those within the system. Her uncertainty arose, perhaps,
from the effects of her past on the present. Throughout her career
as an educator, Mattie prepared herself to be a high school
principal by observing traditional administrators whom she admired,
and by accepting mentorship as it was offered. Qualities she
developed and honed included being highly organized; being
well-prepared; leaving nothing to chance; accepting responsibility
and accountability for what happens within the school; and having
respect for the authority that came with the positions in the
hierarchy [MJz9-28-9l; 3-2-92]. Those characteristics, she
believed, would enable her to be an effective leader in the school,
that is, one who confidently made decisions unilaterally, or who
orchestrated the conditions by which they were made by herself and
others.

When she became principal, the role, as she had envisioned it,

no longer existed--but neither was there a new model for her to

179

follow. Division High had become a site-based managed school with
shared decision making. Although those concepts were not clear
concerning their meaning and implementation, the general
understanding among staff seemed to be that school management and
policy-making would be shared among many, with the principal as only
one among the many. Mattie's job, therefore, was to make the
transition between 'the leader' and 'leadership by many'--
personally, as well as professionally. Making the transition
required her to share leadership, yet continue to be accountable to
the district for the happenings and decisions made within DHS. She
faced the dilemmas of how much authority and control did she exert
in order to find how much she needed to give up; how much decision
making, and with whom, was she willing to share when she, alone, was
held responsible to the district hierarchy; how did site-based
management and shared decision making in one school work in a system
that operated hierarchically? For Mattie, there was ”nothing more
difficult to take in hand, more perilous of conduct, or more
uncertain in its success” than facing a new principalship at a
site-based, shared decision making school.

To begin, site-based management [SBM] had not been
enthusiastically supported by the majority of DHS's administrators
and staff. The year before Mattie's appointment as principal, the
superintendent proposed that DHS consider re-organizing to become
site-based. Much discussion ensued for no one really understood
what SBM would look like. The understandings ranged from some

teachers' view that teachers would have total control of the

180

building, to others' view that teachers would make the decisions and
administrators would carry them out [NN:5-18-92; MU:528-92].‘Still
others saw SBM as something in between--teachers, support staff,
parents, and students working together to make decisions and to
implement them [HF:l-23-92; 3-31-92].

After two votes of the entire staff, SBM was approved as the
organizational structure of choice for Division High. ,The first
vote showed that administrators, as well as many staff members, were
not in favor of that change in organization; the second vote,
according to some teachers, did not really change matters, except
there was pressure from 'downtown' for DHS to become a site-based
managed school. Therefore, administrators felt they had little
choice but to vote in favor of adopting SBM, for becoming site-based
managed was conditional on administrative support [QO:l-29-92:4;
fn:12-4-9l].

Although several teachers speculated that Mattie did not favor
SBM, she stated otherwise [MJz6-25-92t2]. She did not, however,
embrace it without reservations and frustrations. Administrators
from the district office informed her that there were guidelines for
her to follow concerning the district's goals and expectations for
SBM in individual buildings--although each school with SBM was to be
unique and to develop SBM to suit its own purposes. She did not
know who developed the guidelines or how, and she had not seen them
as of the end of the school year.

We're not there yet [site-based management]. And

I think the district probably has not helped and I'm,

not being critical of it. It's just it's so new. You
know? It's so new and what the district has said,

181

”Well, now, you go and you decide how you're going to
operate. And you don't have to be the same as []High
School. Or you don't have to have the same as []

----- You don't have to be.." And that's good, and yet
it can cause for some confusion. So, right now, I'm
not comfortable with how we operate. . . . No one has
given me those guidelines [for SBM]. . . . I was told
that there guidelines, and in terms of amendments and
what, the 'what' has been spelled out. Someone told me
that those guidelines were being drawn up and I asked
for them yesterday, and someone told me that they were
not quite ready. There was going to be a notebook that
would be given [to us]. [MJ:10-28-9l:3,5]

Confusion also resulted from the lack of common understanding
among teachers and administrators throughout the district of what
site-based management was and what could be expected through such
school re-organization. Mattie, midway through the year reflected
that after a year and a half of working with the concept of SBM, the
school was still not site-based. There were expectations from the
district administration of which faculty either were not aware or
had lost sight; the roles of the steering committee members,
including administrators, were unclear; and the specific course of
action for DHS had not been determined.

What we have now going on is not truly site-based.
As the district defines it, it has to be focused on
student achievement. You have some, some
misunderstanding in terms of what [that is] and that's
not to be critical. I mean that's to be expected. But
we have to first define what it is. The other thing we
have to do is determine what the role of the steering
committee, our governance board, will be. . . . I see
confusion. I see people really not having a full
understanding. But most of all, it's too soon to
expect anything. . . . We do have to chart our course.
We have not done that yet. . . . We have gone in many
ways and it strains us. But then, that has to happen
[MleZ-5o9lz4].

 

 

182

Although there were no guidelines from the district for making
the transition to SBM, Mattie believed her "bosses” had some ideas
regarding the process--they may not have been able to explain it,
but they would know it when they saw it happening. The expectations
were murky. Rather than being continually prepared and organized,
and knowing the direction she wanted to take for DHS, Mattie found
herself having to come to grips with ambiguity.

There was ambiguity associated with the newness of her role as
principal.

If I have to say that I have a skill, a talent, is

that I'm not a last minute person. I do try to stay

ahead. But all of us come short, and I'm uncomfortable

right now because normally I'm more on top of things

and I know why I'm not because this is all new. . . I

finally, as principal, had to settle and resign myself

to know that, when you come in [new], and when .

change is going to occur, what you have is probably,

for want of a better term, things are so unsettled

first. I mean, even when we are changing our personal

life, the things looks so unsettled, [and then] they

start to fall in place. In my sense, I felt that it

was really going to take a year to chart our course.

[MleO-8-9lz3; 12-59lz4].

There was ambiguity resulting from the lack of clarity in her
role during and after the transition to SBM. As the building
principal, she continued to see herself as the final authority, the
one who was responsible for all that occurred within the school; she
referred to Division as ”her" building. What happened at Division
was a direct‘reflection on her as a professional and as a person.
In addition, her personal feelings of responsibility were supported

by the district administrators' very real expectations of her

accountability to them for the management of Division. The result

183

was a division within herself. 'Being in charge' was contradictory
to the 'Shared' leadership espoused by SBM and the concept of shared
decision-making. 'Being in charge' connoted 'power over,’ that is,
control and authority. 'Shared' leadership connoted 'empowerment,'
or 'caring.' Mattie felt caught in the middle, between traditional
beliefs and understandings of leadership, and an emerging, yet
murky, vision of shared leadership; between the past and the future.

You put a person in charge [with SBM] and yet,
that's somewhat contradictory of the whole notion of a
site-based management. But, I do know I have a sense of
being responsible because, and how I know that is I get
the telephone calls. . . . And when something has not
been turned in, site-based or not, it's been very
interesting. It's been very interesting. I get the
call. And, so . . . I know that some things have not
changed. That there is a feeling, I get the feeling
that the principal is held accountable. . . . [U]ntil
this whole notion changes and until I feel that the
accountability [specific reference is being made to a
teacher-initiated program that was approved through
SBM] does not stop, the buck doesn't stop here, then
I'm going to have to know who's leaving here with whom,
and what they're going to do, how they're going to get
back here and what is it going to do for the students.
[MJ:lO-8-9l:6]

Mattie continually ”check[ed] with my boss” [MleO-28-91;4] to
make sure that she was on track with SBM and that the district
administration was not expecting more than Division was
accomplishing. Although experiencing frustration because of the
contradictory position created for her by the district
administration, she was supportive and loyal to her "bosses." She
looked to her immediate supervisor, the Director of Secondary
Education, for guidance and support, and repaid him with respect and

loyalty. She did not question his authority, and saw herself as

 

184

having to "pay my dues" in order for her, as a newcomer in her
position, to earn the respect and authority from those above her
[MJz9-10-9l:12; 6-25-92].

Conversely, SBM caused conflict between Mattie and some
teachers, especially those who were strong unionists. As previously
mentioned, there was a history of anti-administration sentiment
escalated by strong union influence. From its inception at
Division, the steering committee, the governance body of SBM, was
dominated by active union members. Mattie--and many teachers--felt
that the union pushed for SBM as a way to take over the schools.
However, very few of DHS's steering committee members who were
active in the union viewed SBM as a way for teachers to totally
control the school, nor did most want to run it [steering committee
members' perceptions of SBM will be discussed in the following
chapter]. The attitude of the few who did feel that way, however,
prompted Mattie to react in some ways that left no doubt about who
was in authority, and that she backed the district's right to

mandate Division's compliance--SBM or not--with policy.

Now one person I think really feels that [SBM]

means that you get rid of. . . . The principal has no
role, or [no administrator] has any say. If you want
to do it, you do it. Well. . . . I don't believe that.

But you have two [other] people on there [steering
committee] who feel very strongly that this school is
truly site—based and that nobody else [referring to the
district administrators] is going to give us any
direction. Well, I know that that's not true. Now, no
one has told me that, but I know that that's not true.
We're not there yet. [MJ:10-28-9l:3]

Mattie became impatient with teachers' thinking and talk about

site-based management and shared decision making as solely a

185

mechanism through which they might gain more--or most--control of

the school. In terms of the district mandates and Mattie's

thoughts,
. the whole notion of site-based is focused on
student achievement. Now what it is not, is . . . not
managing the building. . . . All of our endeavors with

regard to site-based shared decision making has to be

focused on this, on student achievement. How, what is

it that we want to do to make learning, make it better

for students in the classroom. . . . We have to have a

common vision, which we don't [MJ:3-2-92:6].

Mattie, on the other hand, seemed to treat the steering
committee of SBM rather cavalierly, attending meetings at her
convenience and with little communication to members regarding when
and why she would not be in attendance. Only the chair knew if or
when she would be present. She did send another administrator to
represent her, but that was insufficient for the teachers, as the
representatives had virtually no authority to speak for her
[fn:l-92; 3;92: EK:3-3l-92:ll]. The direction and the primary
purpose of SBM--improving student learning-consequently was derailed
in favor of topics that focused on the process of SBM and decisions
having as their bottom line, teacher-administrator tug-o-war over
building control. Mattie's response was that she was unable to be
at all meetings and, therefore, delegated others [MleO-2892z3,4].
When she chose to attend a district athletic meeting over a steering
committee meeting, however, hostility escalated among those very

people with whom she said she wanted to build trust.

As much as Mattie maintained a power over position in relation

to SBM, she struggled to understand how to share power through the

 

 

186

development of her role and the teachers' roles in the transition to
SBM. She cited as progress the proposal which developed the
mechanism by which faculty could initiate changes through SBM. She
recognized the lack of role definition within SBM, and that,
specifically, her role on the steering committee was nebulous. The
latter was a problem. While staff members looked to her for
direction, thus maintaining her authority, she simultaneously
garnered hostility for not allowing teachers to make decisions
autonomous of her.

[W]e'll have to establish some boundaries

somewhere, and we have not done that. . . . And I've

said that to the staff, in the absence of some written

guidelines, some spelled-out guidelines that we have

mutually agreed upon---we haven't got that. So we're

gonna . . . each step over those lines [boundaries]

until we do that, and that's going to take some time

also. Some give and take [MJ:1028-9l:3].

Several teachers include teacher control of the budget--sans
staff salaries--as an integral part of SBM. On numerous occasions,
including the steering committee retreat [discussed in the following
chapter], teachers requested Mattie to share the budget with them
[EKz6-l-92:l; GS:6-9-92z5]. Mattie consistently said she did not
have that information, or did not have an adequate understanding of
the budget process to share it with the committee. 'As the year
progressed, teachers continued to ask about the budget but narrowed
their requests until they asked only about the money taken in from
the pop machines. Mattie promised she would provide that information

to the steering committee; at the end of the school year, the

committee did not have it.

187

Budget information was a touchy subject for Mattie, one that
was intricately connected to her integrity, her relationship to the
district office, and her knowledge of past history at Division High.

Several years ago a principal was accused of embezzling funds
from several sources within the school. Although the incident was
covered up, the principal was removed from his position at DHS and
transferred to another position where he could be monitored more
easily. Veteran teachers of DHS recall the incident quite vividly
[fn:5-26-92].

Mattie never mentioned the incident to me, nor, to my
knowledge, did she discuss this with members of the steering
committee. She, however, quite emphatically linked her integrity to
her accountability, especially as it related to budgetary matters
and the steering committee. She also, emphatically, refused to
communicate to the steering committee or any group of teachers the
budget information they requested. There was no doubt in anyone's
mind--especially Mattie's-- that teachers would not have control of
the budget unless she was so instructed by her superiors.

[T]he one [] thing that I cannot give up at this

moment, as I'm thinking, is this business of, of

financial matters. That will kill credibility, that

will kill us. Well, that will kill me, and credibility

is so. . . . Integrity, that’s the word I'm looking

for. Integrity is important to me. It's so very

important and 1 just know when you start to deal with

money matters, that if it's not handled correctly--and

that's a big one-~a lot of things are going on in a

school in a lot of ways and right now, I cannot turn

that over to a committee of people yet. I do it to

some degree. There has to be an accounting .

making sure that every penny goes where it's supposed

to go when it's supposed to go. That would be the one

thing. And I'm more conscious of that, I guess,
because of how I feel about integrity. And money can

188

tear up a church; it can tear up a family; it can tear,

I mean it really can. Although our mission is to deal

with students and what happens with students, and

that's where I truly feel that I want to impact. And

that's where we can have this collaboration and we can

jointly work together. But, money matters! (emphasis

hers) [MJ:10-28-9l:5]

Site-based management and shared decision making were imposed,
in reality, on Division High and, therefore on Mattie. With the
exception of her community building through her church contacts and
with parents, her other goals were overshadowed by the time and
effort she had to spend on SBM. Although Mattie said she believed
in collaboration and sharing the decision making, I question whether

she would choose SBM as the method by which to implement them.

[My] actually learning [about] and pushing

site-based, shared decision making. . . . that demands
a lot more time than I had expected. And in just a
traditional mold . . . it's easy, because you don't

have to talk and work and collaborate and all of that.
That's, it's a lot of work. And if anyone thinks that
it [site-based management, shared decision making]
isn't more work, then you're barking up the wrong tree.
. [S]ite-based shared decision making, I believe in
it. I believe that it can work and it's my personal
philosophy, but it does take a lot of time. . . . One
surprise that I had, I had to back off of the amount of
time that it was taking, not only with site-based
shared decision; that was just one component.
[MJz6-25-92z2].

Within the district bureaucracy, Mattie's commitment to
establishing a caring community often became subsumed in the
maintenance of the power of her position. The expectations, stated
and implied, by the district administrators regarding her
development of site-based management, and of her improvement of
Division High School in general; her struggle to retain the vision

of herself as a competent administrator while in the midst of change

189

which tested her capabilities to deal with instability, ambiguity,
and continual challenge to her authority; and attention to the
recognition that, as a woman, she felt the tendency to drive herself
to prove to those at the top of the bureaucratic hierarchy that she
was worthy to be the first female high school principal in Newtown
[MJz9-lO-9lzll] --- these all tested--and compromised--her power to

build a caring community for Division High.

Pursuing Power - Climbing
the Hierarchical Ladder

At the same time that Mattie pursued a course to establish an
ethic of caring within Division High, she also was cognizant of
establishing her own power--to earn respect that would broaden her
scope of authority and to advance in the hierarchy of the school
district. There is a tendency to view the establishment of one's
own power as simply self—serving and at the expense of others.
Conversely, the establishment of an ethic of caring implies that one
acts out of altruism and that 'power over' is virtually absent.
Mattie's case was not nearly so clear cut. As she strove to build
relations and to nurture faculty and students, she also strove to
further herself.

Mattie's goal was to become a high school principal. She
worked her way into the position, moving up the career ladder, one
step at a time. Arriving at her goal, however, did not mean that
she was content to simply be principal. Although she did not

evidence any ambition to become a district administrator, many of

190

the faculty speculated that her position at DHS was a stepping stone
in that direction. Whether or not that was the case, Mattie was
aware of the need to build her power base as a principal in the
district and in the region-~she wanted to be an influence among her
peers. '

As she reflected on her first regional secondary school
principals' meeting, she commented that because there were so few
females in the organization, she had to be aware of networking with
the males. Her inclination was to arrive at the meetings in time to
comfortably get settled before the business actually began. She
learned, however, that if she wanted to have an impact on that
group, she would have to leave her work at DHS, arriving at the
meeting site early so there would be time to 'visit' with others
prior to the meeting. Choosing to build her political network took
her away from the building, which had the consequence of decreasing
the amount of time she had to spend with DHS faculty and staff
building the one-on-one relationships she believed were so important
[fn:9-11-91].

There were two driving forces behind Mattie's decision to
network. The first was to gain support on a wider basis for the need
to build trust, not only in her school, but among schools so that
teachers and administrators would work more closely and share ideas
and thoughts about how to better prepare students. The second was
that she could better ”climb the executive ladder" [MJz9-lO-9lzll].

Mattie worked hard to build her power base within the district

by working closely with her "bosses” and with the community. By

191

doing that, she garnered support from them for grief counseling for
students and teachers, for the student crisis intervention program,
and for academic honors convocations for students. There was also
speculation that her growing reputation in the district and
community lead to significant input into the selection of principals
to fill the vacancies occurring in the district because of the early
retirement buy-out. Of the total number of vacancies, at least
seven of the people who applied were either from Division or from
her former school, and of those seven, four were female. They were
people that Mattie mentored or who had similar values and beliefs
concerning education [fn:8-5-92]. ‘

For Mattie, power and caring mingled, integrated, and became

inextricably entwined. She was a powerful care-giver.

MATTIE JOHNSON - POWERFUL CARE-GIVER

As I listened to the tape of the December interview with
Mattie, the strain in her voice was evident. My fieldnotes
[fn:12-5-91:1] indicated that in answering my question regarding her
perceptions about the changes faculty wanted at DHS and whether or
not they saw any, Mattie became very serious and all business.. She
appeared uncomfortable--perhaps even fighting defensiveness-~having
to admit that everything was not running smoothly, and that,
although she did not like it, she had to learn to function in a
position and a situation that were not clearly defined. When she
told me early in September that ”once I get through this year, then

I can know more of what to expect" [MJz9-109l:3], her smile and

192

ebullient laugh then implied that she could not believe that she
would not always have a clear direction in sight.

The pressure she felt manifested itself visibly in her look,
her stance, and her voice. This once ebullient woman, with a laugh
that resounded throughout the building, became more tense and
controlled as the months progressed. When I listened to the tape
again, I felt myself tighten and become almost frightened in
response to the intensity of her voice. I could recall sitting in
her office. Although her posture was normally dignified, she now
appeared to me to be stiff, rigid, steel-willed, and immovable.
Anger--perhaps frustration--seemed to boil within her, but, because
of her enormous self-control, was translated into carefully
monitored statements and responses. She exhibited power-to fight
for an ethic of caring? The spontaneous, genuine smiles became

'proper' smiles, and her eyes were hard and set.

Reflections on Mattie's

U e tandin 0 Power

Mattie's education in leadership principles and behaviors
occurred in the bureaucratic setting of school. She rose through
the hierarchy-teacher, department chairperson, assistant principal,
deputy principal, and finally, principal. Her former principal
mentored her. She learned to lead, to take charge, to make
decisions, and to take responsibility for her decisions. She

developed vision for the 'big picture' of schools. She respected

193

the authority of positions within the hierarchy. She respected power
as it related to position.

Mattie was ambitious. She was charismatic. She was visionary.
She was caring. And she wanted the power associated with the
capacity of principal to ensure the development of her vision.

Mattie had a vision for the school. She hoped for the day that
students, faculty, and community members would be proud to be
associated with DHS. She also envisioned DHS as an integral part of
the neighborhood community. Her dream depicted Division as
contributing to the social and economic welfare of the community
through better education of its students' by opening its doors to
people within the neighborhood, making it truly a community school;
and by seeking parental advice for and participation in their
children's education.

I believe that Mattie did not see power and caring as
dichotomous, but as concepts working together to enable the
realization of the vision which would empower black students and,
ultimately, the black community. Through various interviews, she
indicated that teachers did not understand the necessity of the need
for high expectations of themselves and students; that she had to
find ways to convince them of the need for excellence. She talked
about her responsibility to make them understand, implying the use
of power.

Mattie also understood the bureaucracy as necessary for order
and justice to predominate. Her thrust was the need for a

leader/principal who had vision to see the big picture, to ensure

194

that faculty ideas fit into the big picture, and to manage the
school efficiently and effectively. Her stance was that until the
district changed its organization, she would not give up any power
that would endanger the school's or her position in the district.

At the risk of forcing an interpretation of power on Mattie, I
would propose that Mattie's discussions of caring and power and her
ensuing actions could be described as pursuing a liberational ethic
of caring. She used her power to attempt to empower black students
and the black community.

The following chapter looks at the staff and how they react to
caring and power; how they care for each other; how they enact power

over their peers; and how they respond to Mattie's caring and power.

CHAPTER SIX

THE STAFF: WAR! CARE TAKERS?

The word 'change.’ . . has been given a new

meaning: it no longer means n new stage of goherent
nevglnnnent (as it was understood by Vico, Hegel, and

Marx), but a snift frnn gne side to another, from front
to back, from the back to the left, from the left to
the front .

Milan Kundera

Immogtality

. freedom shows itself or comes into
being when individuals come together in a
particular way, when they are authentically
present to one another (without masks, pretenses,
badges of office), when they have a project they
can mutually pursue. . . . There must be a coming
together of those who choose themselves as
affected and involved. There must be an opening

of a space between them . . . deeper and more
significant than merely practical or worldly
interests.

Maxine Greene
e ec ic ee 0

The faculty at Division is experienced, graying, and
'reform—smart.’ Most have been in the district long enough to have
seen school reforms come and go, and cycle again. With each 'new'
change, there is a predictable mixture of mild excitement, cynicism,

and apathy. The year Mattie became principal, however, was

195

196

different. The faculty, as a whole, allowed themselves to hope.
They saw opportunity for a "coming together" of staff,
administration, student body, and community to effect changes at
Division High that were "deeper and more significant” than simply
another educational reform.

In Mattie Johnson, they anticipated a leader who would establ-
ish an environment that would be conducive to building trust among
the various groups throughout the school; who would work with staff
to ensure the success of site-based management and shared decision
making; and who held academic excellence for students as a primary
goal. Above all, the staff members wanted to see in Mattie the
person who would care enough about them that she would "take risks"
[NQ: 3-4-92z7], and who would stand up to ”Downtown" in order to
support her faculty and staff to do what is best for Division High
School. The staff looked forward to making changes, with Mattie's
help that, in essence, would produce an ethic of caring in Division
High School.

The atmosphere at DHS seemed ripe for the development of an
ethic of caring. Mattie recognized that staff needed nurturing and
support, both personally and professionally; she viewed her role as
the 'onecaring" (Noddings, 1984). The staff, recognizing their need
to be cared for, looked to her leadership to direct the changes that
would lay the foundation for trust, a trust that would serve as the
basis for cooperation and collaboration between them and

administrators, and, ultimately, for their own empowerment. But,

 

197

were they and Mattie really, as Mattie would say, "singin' from the
same hymn book?"

From Noddings' (1984), perspective, caring has relation as its
ontological basis and ”the caring relation as ethically basic." (p.
3) Within the caring relation is a set of ordered pairs: the
”one-caring” and the "cared-for.” (p. 4) In order for caring to
exist, the development of reciprocity between the one-caring and the
cared-for must occur. That is, in order to care and be cared for,
both parties must contribute to the relation. The one-caring must
somehow feel completed in the cared-for if the relationship will be
depicted as caring. The one cared-for, is not simply a vessel to
Ignnixg caring, but must be willing to acknowledge the caring as
such and, also, be willing to care in return.

Additionally, the one-caring must be willing, at times, to
suspend justice, that is, the adherence to rules or regulations
designed to ensure fairness via objectively judging a situation by
criteria applied to all like situations. The one-caring is required
to see each situation as unique and, therefore, cannot be bound by
compliance to set regulations or directives.

In this chapter and the next, I will look at the relationships
between Mattie and the staff, and among the staff members,
themselves, in terms of an ethic of care. Is there a reciprocal
relation between Mattie as one-caring, and the staff members as the
cared-for? Are there reciprocal relations of the one-caring and the
one-cared for within the staff? Is an ethic of caring, different

from an attitude of caring, being developed? Is it possible for

 

198

caring and power to be so integrated that there is difficulty in
producing the reciprocal relationship Noddings indicates is
necessary for an ethic of care to exist? Or, conversely, is power
needed in order to produce caring relationships that are
reciprocal?

To begin addressing these questions, this chapter will focus on
the staff. How do the staff members understand and interpret caring
for themselves? Is there reciprocity in terms of caring among
themselves and between them and Mattie? Do staff members see
receiving and giving care as gaining power, that is, becoming empow-
ered? Can power/empowerment be a necessary factor of an ethic of
caring? Or are caring and being cared for subsumed in
power-as-control?

I will examine the staff, through their voices and through my
observations and interpretations, in several ways. First, I will
look at the staff from the perspective of one body, that is, from
the perspective of common concerns about their understandings,
interpretations and need for caring. Following that section, I have
chosen three groups within the staff to probe for their
understandings and interpretations concerning their specific and,
perhaps, different, needs for caring. Coming from a
post-structuralist feminist stance, it is important for me to

recognize the differences within and among the staff.

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IN NEED OF CARING
The Staff as One Body
Common themes and issues surfaced among the general staff
regarding their need for caring. Two main themes that incorporated
many issues were 1) the lack of trust within the staff and between
Staff and administrators; and 2) the difficulty of caring for

students.

F k of Trus

Virtually each staff member interviewed indicated, either
directly or indirectly, the lack of trust within their ranks. The
suggestion was that the distrust among them limited the ways in
which they did or did not collaborate as professionals, and
restricted their personal interactions. Fragmentation of the staff,
as a result of 'unfriendliness,’ extreme individualism, and poor
communication among the staff and between staff and administration
were foundational to the inability of staff members to trust one

another.

W

The reality of a severely fragmented staff appeared to result
in even greater isolation than Lortie (1986) and Jackson (1975)
identify as problematic for teachers, for isolation extended beyond
the classroom. Social groups were hard to identify among the

faculty. Few people made attempts to construct relationships,

200

personal or professional, and rarely did the latter occur without

mandates.

There are some of the 'old guard,’ some older male
faculty, who meet in the custodians' lounge for a few
minutes before classes every morning, and a lot of the
math teachers get together in the teachers' lounge.
But, generally, people have to really seek [teacher's
emphasis] their cliques. It's hard to know who hangs
with who. I usually eat lunch in my room, or sometimes
with []. I don't even know who eats together, let alone
who socializes with who. I don't think many people at
[Division] get together personally. We just work here.
And we need to do more than that. That's why we don't
work together—~we don't know one another so we don't
trust one another. [HF:1-23-92:l]

A teacher who had taught in the Newtown system for over
twenty-five years, and who had taught in a variety of schools, had
this to say about the relationships at DHS:

There was a group that were basically what I would
call the original group, or close to the original
group, that had been here a long time. They seem to
form a clique. Some of the departments, it was
interesting, some of the departments [are supportive]
and some are not. I think the math department is a
very tight clique and very supportive of each other.
Probably the tightest clique in the building. I think
some of the people in the science department are, and
then some are just not a part of that at all. That's
another clique. . . . But, there is no central meeting
place. That's another problem. [We] have all these
little places people can go to gather, where . . . it's
often hard to find people . . . I don't really spend
time with a lot of people in the building. . . . And I
would say that's pretty much the [same for most] of the
group here. . . . I try to keep . . . the relationships
professional. I don't seek out people that I'm not
going to spend time with outside the building. .
[T]his is the first high school I've been in. And, I
found it one of the loneliest experiences of my life
when I walked in here . . . and I've been here thirteen
years. [NQ:3-4-92:l6,l7]

Other teachers note the lack of friendliness among the staff

and attribute it to the size of the building and to a lingering

201

reaction to the desegregation process. The perception is that

because of friendliness, it is difficult for staff to work together.

I see people in this building that can't stand
each other all the time, to the point that they don't
even speak. You know, you walk by like they don't
exist . . . And there's something really wrong here. I
mean there's something really [emphasis the teacher's]
wrong here. [HFz6-8-92]

This school has never been a real friendly staff.
From the time we started I think people were too
separated; we never see anybody, you know. You can
teach for a whole year but the person that's on the
other side of the building, you don't even know who the
person is. And it's always been like that here.
[Before the desegregation riots] we had a six hour day,
with lunches and everybody, almost all the teachers ate
during [] period. And you saw more people. Then we
went through a period, you know, after the riots, where
we'd have a five hour day, and all the kids went home,
and then everybody had sixth hour planning and we ate
in our rooms. Cause they didn't serve any lunches, you
know, you saw very few people. And I don't think
teachers have ever totally bounced back . . . [NN
5-18-92:2]

Well, we've been talking about getting along
together, you know, the idea of the perception of trust
and everybody sharing decisions . . . we've got ninety
people here and they're all different, you know, coming
together, this is difficult to get that many people to
sit down and agree to work together. . . . We still
aren't together. . . . We're still not working
together. We still go off our own way. That's part of
that is just simply the size of this. You get that
many people. . . . See, prior to being here, I worked
at a school where we had maybe thirty staff members.
Thirty people will sit down and talk to each other.
Ninety people don't do this very easily.
[IZz3-l7-92:2,3] '

Fragmentation resulted from the staff's individualism.

Some

teachers did not to want to identify with a group personally or

professionally, and some were seen to view needs and change for

Division from only one perspective--their individual one.

202

We're a very fragmented staff. . . . It's just a

very unique setup. . . . I kind of, myself, I feel like

a loner, and I, I'd like to stay that way. I don't

want to be a part of, of a particular group. I'd like

to, you know, I'm a people person, not a group person.

I guess I would say it that way. I don't do well in

groups and cliques and things. And, and we're just

that way here. [Qle-29-92:l,2]

People . . . [in this building] are so quick to

judge. And they were so quick to say you know,

somebody' s a sell- out, and, you know, stupid and, I

mean just those really, really hurtful things.

And it' s not based on anything but what you want-~"Well

I think it should be happening this way. Well, that's

one I in the building of one hundred. What does

everybody else want? [HFz6-8-92:8]

The individualism of the staff serves further to alienate
people and to increase power struggles among themselves, as well as
between staff and administration. Not only do teachers have
difficulty envisioning the 'big picture,’ but they resist working
together. A teacher generally described the way in which committee
leadership is carried out. PeOple volunteer for leadership
positions, but rather than following procedures of working with the
whole committee, the 'leader' accomplishes the tasks s/he thinks
need to be done through informal contact. Often, decisions are made
and actions carried out without the knowledge of other committee
members and without the consensus of the faculty as a whole. The
result is that decisions are too often made unilaterally by
individual staff members, with the perception by others that the
decision was made in light of particular people's needs rather than
those of the faculty or entire school.

There are a lot of people who assume leadership
roles and they tend to make contacts with other people

to get things done. They don't follow the process they
have set up and the line is too often blurred between

203

informal conversation and outright action. What I mean

is that decisions are made in a vacuum. People are

thinking about their own classes rather than everything

that occurs in the building; they don't want to

compromise. There are too many agendas.

[HF:1-30-92:l]

An example of these unilateral decisions concerned the efforts
of the lead teacher in an academy that was in its initial stages of
implementation. Students were pulled from other classes to fill the
academy's classes; students were transported to work-sites outside
the school without following legal protocol; and teachers not a part
of the academy did not know that students would miss their classes
for academy internships. The teacher in question was so focused on
building the academy that he did not think about the effects his
decisions had on the rest of the staff. The result was that other
teachers resisted active support for any academy, referring to this

one with disdain and the reason for their distrust of similar

efforts [fn:MJ:].

Inndeguate Communication

Faculty members stated that insufficient and inadequate
communication was a serious problem, especially between adminis-
tration and faculty. Teachers said that they often found out about
incidences, students, or policies at Division through the Newtown
newspaper or from students. The main source of information in the
school appeared to be daily announcements over the P.A. Several

teachers felt that this was inadequate because the sound was often

204

not clear, and the noise level from student talking often prevented
people from hearing the announcements

[C]ommunication is usually over announcements,
which are very hard to hear, because the kids are
totally disinterested. . . . Sometimes when things are
going wrong, you know, like things, incidents in the
rest of the building, we hear a lot of rumors, but you
never really know what's happened. And then we always
find out from the [Newtown] paper. We've had some
problems here. [NN:5-18-92z3]

Inadequate communication contributes to teachers' distrust of
one another and of administrators because needed information is
often not received. If teachers do not have necessary information,
they often are excluded from decision making. A sense of
frustration and isolation results, and, more importantly, there is
the sense of exclusion from decisions. At Division, the latter
intensifies the lack of trust, fragmenting and isolating staff
members further.

Until three or four years ago, everything was in
writing. If we had a meeting, everybody knew it, they
had a copy of it, they knew when and where it was. Now
a lot of it is just kind of by guess. Very, very little
is ever put in writing. I have felt this year that I
have less information available to me than I'd ever had
before. As far as knowing what's going on and when
it's going on and if I'm supposed to be someplace at a
certain time, what is that place then? For example, as
at the beginning of the school year, it was said the
department chair meetings will be the, whatever, fourth
Wednesday of the month. I don't remember which one.
The counselling meetings will be this day of the month.
I wrote all of those down, just so I'd remember them.
Several times they've been canceled and changed, but
there's been no written communication that that's
happened, and I hear a rumor about it so I would call
one of the other people that's supposed to be involved
and find out what they've heard and then we'll track
down the information. And the person who has made the
change may remember to tell some people. Often I'm

205

forgotten because I'm back in the corner and it's easy

to forget back there. But it, there is no good

communication system. [NQ:3-4-92:l,2]

The lack of a "good communication system" is a major
contributor to the maintenance of historically adversarial relations
between administration and staff. Lack of communication between
these two bodies regarding decision making has caused staff to
become bitter and even more distrustful of administrators.

At the beginning of the year, staff members had hope that the
new administrative team would work on building trust on all levels
in the building. Toward the end of the year, they felt that there
was even less exchange of information than in previous years.
Teachers heard about decisions after they were made, and received
little or no explanation concerning why a particular tack was taken;
administrators asked teachers for input on decisions, then appeared
not to use it, making the teachers feel used and patronized; the
principal promised to have more communication with teachers,
individually, but they felt they had less than in previous years.
These feelings have lead to bitterness and less trust between
administrators and teachers. One teacher's assessment of this issue
seems to incorporate the essence of many teachers' comments.

I think that a lack of trust amongst us has been a
problem for a long time and I don't think it's any

better than it's ever been. A good part of that is due

to a lack of communication. It's my opinion, it is

extremely important to make sure that everyone knows

what's going on, to make sure that whenever possible,

decisions are made by the group because then people buy

into them. When a decision has to be made and it cannot

be made by the group, either because it must be done in

an emergency situation or because it's one of those

things that fall strictly under the realm of adminis-
tration, I think it's very important to let the staff

206

know that the decision was made, why it was made, and
why it could not be a joint decision-making effort. I
think it's also very important to make sure that
everyone knows what's going on in the building. Those
things, in my Opinion, are not happening. . . . Plus,
decisions are made and sometimes I think there's a very
legitimate reason for making those decisions, but
because no one knows why they were made, it makes it
very easy for mistrust to continue to, because there's
already a problem with mistrust in the building. So
when a decision is made and everyone is left to their
own interpretation of why that decision was made,
usually we don't come up with the best interpretations
in the world. [NQ:3-4-92:l,2]

Finally, a teacher commented that by not knowing why Mattie is
doing what she is doing, teachers are frustrated and returning to
the belief that administrators don't care about the them. The staff
disbelieved the rhetoric about collaboration, for they believed
Mattie determined which decisions were made collaboratively, and
which she made unilaterally, and, with no explanation.

I am expecting, and this may be unrealistic, I am
expecting when I go in [to talk with Mattie] and say,
”[Mattie], when you were in the halls, when you were

‘here every day and you were in the halls, and the kids
knew you were in the halls and the staff knew you were
in the halls, things ran more smoothly than they have
in years. When you are not there, things do not run
smoothly." I'm expecting her go back out . . . I'm
expecting her to get rid of this other junk she' doing
and go back and do the things that she was doing to
start to turn the building around. Which, you know,
that may be very unrealistic for me to expect that to
happen. But I guess the other thing I'm expecting or
that I'd like to have happen, if she can't do that, if
she's involved in other things that she can't get out
of, I want her to tell me what those are and why she
can't get out of them, [emphasis mine] even though she
doesn't have an answer, I know she doesn't, she's not
obligated to do that. [emphasis mine] I would feel
less frustrated, and I think that's what I'm talking
about by communication. [NQ:3-492:17]

207

Through this latter teacher's voice, I sensed that communi-
cation meant much more than conveying information or giving
encouragement and support. I believe she was asking for caring that
required Mattie to trust her. Although Mattie was not obliged to
disclose the reasoning behind her decisions, doing so would be
showing caring to the teacher; it would be evidencing trust. By
trusting the teacher, Mattie would also be opening the door to a
reciprocal relation of caring that is all encompassing and critical
to an ethic of caring: Mattie would allow herself to be the
one-cared for by the teacher, who would then assume the role of the
one-caring.

Lack of trust, generally, permeated DHS. Some teachers
attributed it to an extremely fragmented staff; others said the lack
of staff unity was the result of distrust. An inadequate
communication system 1imiting--and often preventing--staff members'
receipt of information also contributed to a growing distrust,
leaving many people feeling isolated, inadequate, and powerless.

Staff members not only grappled with the latter in their
relationships among themselves and with administrators, but with

their connections to students.

W

Staff members needed caring themselves in order to care for
students. Professionally, many teachers felt pressure from the
community and from school reforms to improve student learning. Yet,

when they tried to improve student learning and achievement, they

208

received little or no support from colleagues and administrators for
their efforts, or worse, they were criticized and stymied in their
attempts.

Personally, staff members struggled with the trauma and
violence of many of their students' lives. Recognizing the impact
of their students' lives on their own was an unspoken issue with
teachers as they discussed their relationships with students.

In this section, I will look at teachers' perceptions of their
relationships and responsibilities to students and the way students'

lives affect teachers and what they do in schools.

High Exngctations £0; Students

Teachers were frustrated in their efforts to care for students.
Frustration evolved from expectations for student achievement and
learning. There seemed to be general agreement among the
administration and staff that expectations and standards for
students were not high enough. Yet, individual teachers or groups
of teachers who attempted to ameliorate that situation seemingly did
not receive the support needed. Recall the teachers who tried to
develop the school-within-a-school and ninth grade team concepts.
All felt unsupported and uncared-for by their peers and principal
regarding the most important aspect of teaching: the continual
pursuit of better ways to teach and learn.

Members of the mathematics department supported one another in
their setting and maintenance of high standards for all students

taking math, regardless of level. They, however, did not believe

209

other staff members and administrators supported them in their
expectations for high student achievement. In fact, they seemed to
feel that administrators attempted to dissuade them by pressuring
them to pass students if they attended regularly and did not cause
trouble; and that counselors discarded their standards by placing
students in classes the math teachers indicated were inappropriate
for particular students. Although supported by their own department
members, the math faculty regularly was the recipient of snide
comments--"Who do they think they are, holding such high standards?"
”Do they think they're better than other departments?” "They can't
tell us what classes to put these kids in"--from other teachers and
from counselors. [SQ:5—18-92:2] The result is that the members of
the math department have formed a tight bond amongst themselves, and

a we-against-the-rest-of-the-school attitude.

e t e

Teachers are frustrated by high student absenteeism. At the
same time they talk about raising standards, they are agonizing over
ways to keep kids coming to school and resentful of the criticism
they receive for students not learning even the 'basics.’ [The
ninth grade team concept was conceived because of the extreme
absenteeism and high dropout rate of ninth graders.] A social
studies teacher showed me the daily absent sheet for DHS: 176 ninth
graders; 65 tenth graders; 33 eleventh graders; and 30 twelfth
graders were absent that day. On that same day in his ninth grade

classes alone, there were fourteen absences out of thirty-five

210

students registered; sixteen out of thirty-one, second hour; and ten
out of thirty-three, third hour. He commented laconically, "[I]f
students are not here, you don't have any bodies, you can't teach.
You can't teach without bodies." [NG:5-l9-92:7]

When I asked him about the failure rate in his classes due to
absenteeism, his reply was sardonic:

The school board has a ruling that I may fail

students after fifteen days [of absenteeism in one

semester] if the work is not made up. But, we kind of

bend the rules here. . . . As long as [a student] does

half the work . . . or a little more [he passes]. This

is what we talk about, lowering standards.

[NG:5-l9-92:7]

Ironically, although teachers are distressed by the high
absenteeism, they bemoan the fact that the new assistant principal
in charge of discipline is not suspending students from school. The
teachers feel that he is not supporting them by keeping students in
school when they are sent to the discipline office. Staff compare
him to his predecessor, currently the deputy principal, who was
”strong and dished out punishments and suspensions to keep the kids
in line. [The current assistant principal] is a fool. He's not
doing his job on discipline.” [KGzl-23-92:2] Faculty resent his
sending the students back to their classroom, feeling that if they
could have dealt with them in the first place, they would not have
sent them to the discipline office.

To better manage the discipline situation, the steering
committee of SBM appointed a committee to investigate ways of

keeping students in school. The committee recommended in-school

suspension. That required hiring someone to monitor those students

211

and was, therefore, unacceptable, as the school board stipulated
that teachers could do anything within SBM as long as it did not
cost money. The committee presented an alternative plan which
increased each teacher's class size by two students so that one
teacher would be free each hour to monitor the in-school suspension
room. There were so many complaints from teachers that the proposal
did not even go to the steering committee. [HF:6-8-92] Teachers,
generally, were most upset about the failure of support for the
committee's recommendations. However, their interpretation of
support referred to the board's adamant stance not increase the
budget to provide for another hire; few staff members referred to
the alternative proposal. There seemed to be the question of did
staff really care about students and if so, how much.

Teachers battle a sense of futility as they try to keep kids in
school, raise their expectations for students, and raise standards
for student achievement, while simultaneously running into
roadblocks from colleagues and administrators. The teachers, by and
large, do care in various ways and to different degrees about their
students. But, for each attempt they make at caring, I believe they

are expending as much energy fighting for the right to care.

t e s' erso a ives
Conversely, teachers sought to maintain distance between
themselves and students in order to protect themselves, not from
violent acts, but from caring too much. As in Kotolowitz's (1990?)

book, There Are No Children Here, trauma and violence were part of

 

212

the everyday lives of many students at DHS. The effects and
residuals of that trauma and violence became part of the teachers'
lives. Although many teachers tried to remain 'objective' and
aloof from the almost routine traumatic events that involved their
students, most found doing so impossible. Teachers regularly
learned about current or former students who dealt with difficult
domestic situations on a daily basis; who were involved in crimes,
often associated with drug dealing; who were physically or sexually
assaulted by relatives or friends; who were severely beaten as a

result of gang fights; or who were violently killed.

1 ic t es

Almost daily teachers heard of students who move from one
household to another, who were pregnant, who had a parent who had
lost a job, or who had left home with no place to go. [fn:
ND:l-30-92] As a participant in a collaborative effort between the
university and school, I taught a class of ninth graders for about
six weeks. Through writing assignments and casual conversations, I
learned that four of the girls in the class had borne children, two
had two babies. Only one of the girls, with the help of her
parents, kept her baby. She told me that she wanted to write a book
about her experience as a black teenage mother to dispel the notion
that black teenage girls are ”no good" and that they "would get a
good education even if they did have a baby.” [fn:2sl6-92z2]

I vowed to help her at least begin to write that book. We

never even got started because she did not return to class after we

213

had that conversation. When I spoke to the teacher with whom I was
working, he responded that he did not know she had a child and
really did not know much about the students in his classes unless he
had to. His reasoning was that he had enough problems of his own
and could not take on the students' problems, too. He said he could
not help them anyway. There was frustration and anger in his voice
when he blurted out that yes, maybe he should learn more about the
students, but he just couldn't afford to! [fn:3-3-92]

In another instance, a teacher regaled me and several teachers
with stories about students' fantastic excuses for being absent. As
he was about to leave, he became somber, saying that he had one
more.

A ninth grade girl had been absent for several days. When the
teacher questioned other students about her absence, no one seemed
to know why she was not in school. A few days later as he was
walking down the hall, he heard a student call him. He turned
around to see the girl whom he had missed in his class. She
approached him and began to explain why she had been absent. She
had been in the hospital, she said. He was about to ask her why
when she pulled out a glossy photograph from a manilla envelope and
thrust it in his face. As he adjusted his focus to determine what
the picture was, the girl told him she had an abortion; the picture
was of the aborted fetus.

Before the teacher could think of something to say, the student
grabbed the picture, stuffed it back into the envelope, smiled, and

said she'd see him in class. She left him ”standing with my mouth

214

open" as she almost bounced away, calling to a friend and waving the
envelope. [fnSC:2-6—92:7]

The incident occurred several years ago, but remained vivid in
his mind. He looked at us, particularly at me, and said that he's
pretty tough, but "this really got to me. I still can't forget it.
Yah, these kids really go through some rough things."
[fnSC:2-6-92:6] This big, burly man slowly got up from his chair,
shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the image in his
memory, and walked out of the lounge, leaving the rest of us in
silence.

In both instances, the teachers were not unaffected by their
students' personal lives. But, both chose to stuff away, as best
they could, those aspects of the students they felt they could do

nothing about. They were at DHS to teach.

V e ce ri e

Teachers heard about robberies, drug dealings and gang fights
through the news media and immediately speculated about whether or
not those named are or were students at DHS. One day as I was
working in the library's media center, a teacher rushed in obviously
agitated. A student had told her that ______ had been shot trying
to rob a crack house. The teacher was looking for the morning paper
to verify the story. She said the student in question was one she
had taught the year before and, if the story was true, that would
make five DHS students shot during the school year to date. She

followed with the comment that she hated to turn on the T.V. or

215

radio, or read the newspaper because she feared hearing about more
students hurt or killed. [fn:l-27-92]

Several teachers talked about the four student murders during
the year. Each of their conversations with me would usually end in
a shrug and a question like, "Well, what can we do?" One teacher
captured the essence of teachers' attempts to simply absorb the
violent and traumatic events in students' live when she said, "You
get too depressed looking into the problems because every time you
hear someone at this end of town gets hurt, you wonder, 'Is that

another one of ours?’ It doesn't make it easy" [NN:5-l892:4].

W

Finally, because of the violence that has occurred to and among
Division students, teachers often felt they had to expend too much
energy defending themselves for teaching at DHS, and defending DHS
students to the public. A teacher strongly made the point that

. . you're not constantly thinking of weapons,

and who' 3 out to get you, things like that. I mean I'm

not scared to walk in this building . . . yet with the

general public, you have to rationalize where you are;

you have to be defensive. [NN:5-18-92:5]

The attitude of the community, in essence, added pressure to
the teachers in their relationships to their students. The teachers
feel the negative attitude of community members toward Division
iHigh--its students and faculty. The result was, according to a
teacher who had been at the school for twenty-five years,

I tend to defend [the students] . . . even

sometimes maybe more than I need to . . . with
outsiders . . . [I] try to push [the students] so it

216

makes them look better outside, because if you see them

out on the streets and when they're doing something

dumb, you wish they wouldn't. [NN:5-18-92z5]

Regardless of the teachers' conscious decisions concerning the
level of their involvement in students' personal lives, no teacher
was left unaffected. Some developed ”hard shells so we don't have
to feel” [HF:6-8-92:l3]; others felt, but often wished they did not.

All, however, were frustrated and angry because they seemed to feel
alone in their struggles, and unable to make headway.

The struggle to work and relate to students seemed to correlate
significantly with the lack of trust within the DHS staff. The
atmosphere of mistrust at Division created and maintained a
fragmented staff; it also limited or prevented what teachers could
do with and for students.

I don't think there's been a great deal of real

honesty that has gone on for a long time. And that's

part of what breaks down communication, and that's part

of what causes mistrust. . . . You take things out on

the people who can't fight back and, you know, [that's

the kids]. . . . [C]ertainly if you are frustrated and

you feel unhappy, and you feel that other people

perceive you as not doing a good job, we're like

everybody else; it's that self-fulfilling prophecy. We

live up to people's expectations of us. . . . And when

you feel that you are not trusted, and you feel that

you are not seen as doing a good job, you tend to look
at other people, students, the same way. [NQ:3-4-92z30]

THE STAFF AS UNIQUE GROUPS
To this point, I have considered the staff as one body needing
and struggling to find caring. In light of post-structural feminist
theory, however, it is imperative for me that I locate the various

groups within that body as they individually and collectively view

217

their need for caring. Post-structuralist feminisms "ground their
epistemology on the foundation of difference," making "conceptual
space for difference in subject location, identity and knowledges."
(Gore & Luke, 1992, p. 7) In terms of this study, the concept of
difference takes into consideration that although there are some
common issues for the whole staff, they are not definitive issues
that represent the interests of all individuals and groups within
the whole. Therefore, I will discuss several groups within the
staff as a whole.

Within the staff are any number of groups and individuals that
would be interesting to examine. I have chosen, however, to explore
three groups. Each of these groups has had a very significant
impact on the faculty and administration as they pursue change and
reform efforts at Division High.

The first group I will discuss is that of the senior members.
This group was composed of teachers who had been in the Newtown
school system for twenty or more years. They were older, more
cynical, and more tired than the new staff; they carried much
history with them that influenced their day-to-day teaching and the
way they viewed the future. They comprised almost half of the
faculty and, therefore, had a great influence on what occurred--or
did not occur-~regarding change at Division.

The next group were members of the steering committee, the
governance body of site—based management. They were elected by
their peers to implement site-based management, a system of

organization no one really understood. Their roles, as well as SBM,

218

were ambiguous. As they functioned within ambiguity and attempted
to clarify roles and procedures that would create an atmosphere of
collaboration and empowerment for faculty, teachers and
administrators viewed them as increasing the fragmentation and
mistrust already prevailing in the staff.

The final group I will examine is that of teacher innovators.
Because they attempted to develop and implement major projects that
required not only changing pedagogy and classroom practices, but,
also, school organization, they needed the collaboration of the
different groups involved with DHS. They needed cooperation from
fellow teachers, from administrators, from the community business
committee, and from the university representatives. They also
needed collaboration to occur among and between those groups. The
teacher innovators found they were often caught in the middle of

unspoken power struggles as they sought collaboration.

8 t ff e ers: W Wea

As is typical in Newtown School District, the staff members at
Division High were older, many of whom have taught in the district
between twenty and thirty years. These people had been involved in
numerous education reforms and had participated in a variety of
university-initiated projects at their respective schools. They
experienced desegregation of the city's schools and had been
impacted personally and professionally by that process. They had
seen the city grow and prosper, and are currently witnessing its

rapid decline and fight for survival. Finally, they had experienced

219

their own growth and rise and, then, were facing aging bodies and
souls with the resultant problems and dilemmas that often accompany
such seasoning--personal and/or their partner's illnesses; death of
parents; reduced energy; approaching retirement; and increased
skepticism and cynicism about education, particularly, and about the
world, generally.

Their longevity in the district and, particularly at DHS, had
an impact on the senior staff members that is almost
incomprehensible to others who had been at the school for shorter
periods of time. Their extensive histories as Newtown educators
have caused some senior constituents of DHS to reflect on the needs
for caring they have that require an understanding different from
that needed by their less experienced colleagues. One teacher
summed up the relationships of the staff in this way:

. there's so much meanness and resentment. I
mean there's things that go way deep here and as, as
one person's involved, there's five others that won't

be just because of the dynamics of previous
experiences. [TDz2-ll-92:ll]

V te o Dese re at n
Teachers and other staff members who were part of Division's

community in the late 19603 have been indelibly affected by

 

1Previously, I have used numerous quotations from interviews to
substantiate the issues under discussion. The reader will note that
in this section, there are very few direct quotations. All staff
members who spoke specifically about desegregation asked me to turn
off the tape recorder. They gave me permission to use the essence
of their comments, but did not want to be quoted directly. The
quotations in this section are from teachers who spoke indirectly
about the racial tension that exists today.

220

Newtown's citizens' decision to voluntarily desegregate the high
schools in the district. [Recall that elementary schools were under
federal mandate to desegregate. Secondary schools were judged at
that time to be sufficiently integrated racially. Newtown, however,
elected to develop magnet classes for each high school that would
serve as vehicles to further desegregate the schools. Desegregation
at the secondary level, therefore, would be locally initiated and
controlled, rather than a hasty response to federal mandates.]
Despite the 'voluntary' status of desegregation from the perspective
of a city-wide election, the actual process of increasing the black
student population at Division was not without opposition and
incident.

As mentioned in an earlier chapter, Division High was the
'country club' school when it was built in the middle 19603. When
it went through the desegregation process, however, its reputation
hit bottom and has never recovered. To this day, anyone who has any
acquaintance with Newtown will react negatively to the mention of
Division High School. Virtually all of DHS's teachers are sensitive
to the reputation of DHS as the 'worst' school in Newtown, but those
teachers who lived through all or part of the school's desegregation
continue to live with the pain of the past.

What does this pain look like? It is not blatant or worn as a
badge. It is something that undergirds people's thoughts and
actions, something that is supposed to be buried, but which, on
occasion, refuses to stay underground and surfaces to open old

wounds people believe to be healed over with thick scars. Talking

221

about the past is not easy for these teachers. An automatic
response when broaching the topic of 'the past,’ was to rise from
one's chair, close the door, and lower one's voice, for the past
pivoted on one event: desegregation. Their thoughts of
desegregation summoned images of police inside and outside the
building, students fighting students, teachers fighting teachers,
students fighting teachers: racial tension and violence. Massive
distrust among and between teachers, administrators, and students,
white and black, conservative and liberal ensued [fn:lO-30-9l;
11-12-91]. As one teacher commented, ”You didn't really trust your
best friend" [KG:10-30-9l].

There seems to be yet today a continuing sense of wariness for
those who lived through the desegregation period. As teachers
talked about that time in their lives, their faces showed strain and
their eyes looked haunted still. In their reticence to discuss, and
in their caution when discussing the racial tensions resulting from
and exacerbated by desegregation, one senses these teachers' present
distrust of current colleagues as an extension of past uneasiness in
racial relations. Consider the following exchange emanating from a
discussion of desegregation.

Responding to a question about race relations at Division
during desegregation, one teacher said that the racial tension ”back
then was awful. You were afraid to say anything to anybody. You
couldn't trust your best friend." [KG:10-30-9l] When asked whether
or not racial tensions are obvious today, the teacher responded

there are no racial problems among faculty now. However, later in

222

the conversation the person indicated that several "black staff
members are getting involved with things [becoming heads of
committees] and ”can't cope with the power." What did the latter
mean? The interpretation was that a black teacher who had become a
committee head had gone from being a "nice, friendly person to being
obnoxious,” obnoxious seemingly because the teacher attempted to
make other faculty members take responsibility for follow-through on
the project they voted to accept. In another instance, a black
teacher's seeking and accepting advice in order to become an
effective chairperson was resented, particularly by white teachers
who had been at Division during the desegregation process. Negative
comments concerning the teacher's ambitions beyond classroom
teaching abounded, often prefaced with, "Who does [he/she] think
[he/she] is anyway? The next black principal?" [fn:6-9-92;
KG:l-23-92; EK:3-3l-92:12; 6-l-92;2]; Hle-30-92z2; BK:2-5-92:2]

Another teacher commented on social relationships within
faculty and the rarity of interracial groups. As an
African-American, she also noted her feeling of ”invisibility" in a
school that is ninety-nine percent black. Additionally, she
questions the degree to which African-American teachers influence
policy for the students in DHS.

If you looked at the cliques as they stand, many

times you don't see interracial cliques. . . . [A]s a

matter of fact, I didn't realize there was this many

black [teachers] until I sat down one day to count

because so many times I feel invisible. And, I mean,

not me per se, because I get around and talk to

everybody, but as a member of a group I felt that the

group was invisible. You know, I actually had to sit

down and say, "Okay, now who's here?" . . . It's a
strange kind of feeling when you not only look at

223

people who are existing in the building as being

invisible, but you know, the reality of it, too, is

that is you're looking at a school that has this very

high percentage of black students, who do you think

will be looking at the policies to truly impact black , '

students? . . . Why is it that we as black people,

understanding all of the obstacles for young peOple who
don't have an education, why aren't we running these

classes after school that's going to help these kids?

Why aren't we making policies for this school?

[HFz6-892:21,22]

Although not the sole reason for the distrust at Division,
racial tensions may contribute to the lack of trust among faculty.
Change in positions of power often brings discomfort and wariness
among those affected by the changes. Jealousy, resentment, or a
"prove-yourself” attitude is not uncommon when 'new' people take
over; Mattie was in that position as a new principal. Underlying
the expected skepticism and wariness associated with change,
however, is a lingering sense of fear distrust, and, perhaps, anger,
among white teachers who saw and felt the imposition of black
students and teachers on DHS nearly twenty years ago. As the
position changes took place, the veteran white teachers noted not
only those changes, but that the positions were filled by black
staff members. That is, the lack of trust and uncertainty stemmed
not only from the unknown ability of the person to perform in a
leadership role, but that person was black, compounding the problem
in some staff members' eyes. Speaking about the impact of black
principals, this teacher commented:

I think it did not help that we had a black male
principal that was laid back, you know? I think that

for a black man to be in control of a building, he has

to be viewed as being in control and brooking no

nonsense. And not to the point that he's uncaring,
but, just enough that you know who your principal is

224

and you know where he's going to stand. [Mattie] came
in as a strong, black woman. Well, there's a lot of
stuff revolving around those 'black star sapphires' in
your mind, and, so, all of that perception--a female,
black--and for white men [to deal with]

[HF:6-892z27]

Another staff member was even more direct:

I think that [Mattie'] being principal irritates the
white, middle-aged men. They'd have a hard time with a
woman, period, but with a black [emphasis hers] woman
as principal . . . ! And to make matters worse, they
have to deal with a black [emphasis hers] male deputy
principal who we all feel is incompetent. [KG:10-30-
92:3] '

An additional complication is there appeared to be a tacit
agreement among the staff to refrain fromspeaking about racial
issues and anything that might lead to such discussion, among
themselves. They were, in effect, denying the impact race may have
on the general lack of trust prevalent among the staff. Failing to
address the fundamental issue of race in a school whose student body
is ninety-nine percent black and whose staff is fifty-percent black
only continued to perpetuate distrust by preventing open, honest
communication.

/Racism] is what it comes back down to when I talk

about those people-relation skills. The

people-relation skills do need some work, I mean just

communication with people and that caring, nurturing

kind of sensation, but that is a very, very strong

feeling, and people just don't deal with it. You know?

. we need some real, I don't want to say

confrontations, because I don't think people getting

emotional and upset solves anything. But we need

dialogue where people will listen and ponder and it

will make you have to look at the things you say and do

[HF:6-892:21,25]
A member of the original staff of DHS, commenting on a

questions concerning racial tensions currently among teachers

225

responded, "Did you notice how staff sits in staff meetings? Whites
at one table and blacks at another. I think the racial split has
gotten worse and worse" [KG:l-23-92:l].

Mattie viewed trust-building as a major priority in order to
establish a caring environment for staff and students. She viewed
personal communication with staff members, ministering to their
personal needs, and having integrity as ways to build the foundation
for trust between herself and them. Because of the history of
Division, she will need, also, to consider ways of building trust
among the staff, themselves. 'Caring' would seem to require
Mattie's recognition of the lingering effects of desegregation on
teachers who lived through the process, and the continued-~or
escalated--distrust among them as a result of unspoken and/or denied
racial tension. A critical question is would she and/or the staff
consider this recognition as laying a foundation for a 'caring'
environment? Yet, if the issue of race is ignored, can trust be

established at DHS?

V a th 1 ict of v

Change involving, among other issues, trust-building, re-
structuring the governance of the school, and re-visioning the
curriculum, is a concern among faculty members, generally. Those
who have been at Division for many years, however, viewed these
change efforts from a different perspective. Like the quote from
Kundera at the beginning of the chapter, they no longer view change

as ”a new stage of coherent development,” but see changes as

226

efforts using the same ideas, but simply shifting them "from one
side to another, from front to back, from the back to the left, from
the left to the front.”

A theme that occurred throughout faculty interviews is that
lack of trust among the staff was not a new issue, but one that
continues to re-cycle. There was a weariness as veteran teachers
talk about past efforts to establish trust among themselves and to
make changes, generally. They saw the current concern for change as
just another round of activity that would swell with momentary
interest and enthusiasm and would deflate as quickly. Speaking
about colleagues' efforts to build trust, a teacher commented:

Well, we've been talking about getting along

together, you know, the idea of the perception of trust

and, everybody sharing decisions so, we've been talking

about that. . . . Anyway, . . . that's been an on-going

thing. I mean we've been talking about that. I came

here fourteen years ago and we were talking about it

then. . . . we tried when I first came here to work on

something for getting the staff together informally.

Well, we tried a little something and it didn't work.

. [Flor a while we didn't do anything, and then we

tried again. The staff dinner, the staff potluck, this

kind of stuff. Those sort of things. We've done this

repeatedly.

When probed to think about efforts to build trust that do not
revolve around simply social situations, but that are directed to
develop interdependence among staff members, the teacher replied
that the staff was still not working together. The faculty member
indicated, again, that she had been in the district and at DHS long
enough to know that past efforts had failed and, most likely, the

current efforts would also.

227

I mean this is not some, suddenly this year all of
a sudden we're going to get together, you know, and
work together. We've done this over the years.
[T]here's an approach made, sometimes the same one,
sometimes different ones, and little variations. But
it's not, we didn't just discover the wheel this year.
[IZz3-l792:l,2]

Another veteran of the district spoke about the attempts to
institute site-based management at DHS. This reform effort would
provide for shared decision making among staff and, therefore, would
require that a least a modicum of trust exist. She reflected on the
current efforts in light of her past experiences at a different
school with some teachers with whom she is now working at DHS. Her
comments represent an attitude toward change typical of teachers who
have experienced and participated in numerous reforms over many
years. There was a tiredness in her voice and a plea for
understanding. Above all, there was an appeal to be valued for what
she can contribute and not discard her for what she cannot.

The three of us were together. We taught in the

high school together. And, we were together for four

years. We were like brothers and sisters. We've done

this, we've done site-based. You know? It worked .

kind of. I don't want to do it again. I can't It's

like . . . I can't do that. I can't go through that

again. I can go through the ninth grade thing, you

know, with that, because that's kind of different .

that's because it's an internal thing. I don't want to

worry about the things that principals and [administra-

tors] worry about. [TD:2-ll-927,8]

These teachers were not opposed to the attempts to build trust
and to implement other changes. They did wrestle, however, with the
past knowledge of other efforts that failed, with the amount of

energy required to accomplish the changes, with their experience of

what works and what does not, and with how much they felt they could

228

commit to their involvement in change. One teacher spoke of the
trust-building efforts related to site-based management in this way:

I'm getting also older. And I'd love to deal with
how one sees problems [from different sides]. . . . I
hope I'm seeing some things, some problems in a
balanced [way]. I even got criticized one time for
being too conservative . . . that's what [I was]
clearly labelled when I was younger, but maybe I'm not,
I'm not afraid of that label anymore. But I'm not
ready to just tear down everything and start new.
After seeing something, there has to be something good,
otherwise this whole thing [site-based management,
trust-building] would fall apart [of] its own weight.
[MUzS-2892:l9,20]

A senior teacher recently was appointed department head and was
asked to serve on a committee to determine how Division would meet
new state requirements that would involve re-thinking school
organization, curriculum, and student achievement and evaluation.
Although seen as 'actively participating' in change by faculty
members and administrators, she did what is expected, but felt she
was not necessarily committed to the changes.

I just don't concern myself a whole lot with
policy unless it's something that really disturbs me.
And right now I can't think of anything that really
disturbs me. I guess . . . and this is probably,
again, my problem, I have a tendency to ignore what I
don't want to deal with and shut the door and do my own
classes. Forget about the rest. I mean, you know,
I've been here a number of years and sometimes I've
seen things--that policies that are for administrators
[and] even they didn't like [them] . . . And, you know,
[the policies] aren't going to be here forever. So, if
I stay out of the way, eventually things will get
better. Which, doesn't make me a real active person,
but I guess it keeps me sane. [NN:5-18-92zl3]

Again, there was another senior teacher who had chosen her way
of continuing to work as a part of the school community and, yet,

maintain her distance as a result of many years of experience with

229

various change/reform processes within schools. Hers was not so
much a plea for understanding, but a personal reconciliation to the
effects that consequences of age, time, and numerous encounters with
school reform have left on her. Caring for her could mean the
acceptance by others of her resolve.

Finally, age and experience were a major consideration--and, at
times a major roadblock--to innovation or to educational reform. A
teacher, struggling to begin an academy, was faced with the
realization that older staff were reluctant to pledge the necessary
time and effort major curriculum changes would require. Although
many supported the effort in theory, they hesitated to involve]
themselves based on past experiences of failed efforts, and on the
fact that their workload would, again, increase.

[We're] trying to just get an organization
structure, what [the academy] might look like. And
then this summer we're going to work on curriculum in
the biology area. Now, I thought, with the number of
our students that aren't successful, I had thought that
everybody in the building would be willing to sign up
for something like this. And I'm the only one that's
gone to every department and talked to them. . . . It
was an eye-opening experience. The staff is older.
We've been through a lot of changes, we've seen things
come and go--and not work. And it's part of the
problem, we're not--people are not so gung-ho on
something like that because it's going to be work.

. [But] everybody [said], "Well I hope this goes.
I wish you luck, but I don't want any part of it."

. But nonetheless, I've had people come up and say
they're interested. And I'm having trouble getting a
math person . . . I've got somebody in social studies,
in English, and myself, and my department has been very
supportive. And I've been to all the departments. The
comment that I heard was, "Well, show me a little bit
more structure.” ”Do you have any problems with this
extra teacher?” ”Do you have any money to make this
go?” And of course, we have to say no, that nothing's

230

in place. But then when I talk to Mrs. [Johnson], she

says, "Well, you've got to have a team before you can

go any further.” See what I mean? [ES:S-ll-92:4,5,]

Senior staff members were skeptical, were wary of committing
themselves to projects that theoretically are sound, but, according
to past tradition, have been ill-funded, both financially and in
human resources. Age and experience provided these teachers with
increased skepticism and a reluctance to expend energy that was not
as easily renewable as it was twenty years ago. As I think of these
teachers, I see a group of people who are using their power to
protect themselves by caring for themselves.

A veteran teacher of almost thirty years eloquently spoke about
the necessity to recognize the position and place aging teachers
have in any change process. She indicated a need for caring that
recognized the interest of older teachers to be a part of the
process, but realized that they no longer want to shoulder the
efforts. Her thrust was that older teachers do not want to be
discounted because they are choosing-for a variety of reasons--to
limit their involvement, but to respect and value them for the
experience they bring and for what they can do.

[A]nother problem, and hopefully a lot of us

retire and it will change, is that in any situation you

need to have older teachers because they are seasoned,

they have experience, and they know how to handle some

situations just because they have had experience and

that really helps. The other side of it is, you need

young people. They bring in the enthusiasm, they are

the ones that really are, they are really the

change-makers. Because they're willing to jump in,

they don't know enough to know that everything's never

going to work. So they're willing to jump in and

they're willing to do everything and they bring along a

lot of the folks with them. And I have heard some of
my colleagues say, ”I'm old enough to jump on a

231

bandwagon. I mean I can still jump on a bandwagon and

I still would like to see things change, but I'm too

old to be the head cheerleader." And I feel that way,

too. You know, I'm not ready, I have been on so many

bandwagons and have been a part of enough that I'm not

sure if I'm ready to do what it would take.

[NQ:3-4-92:27]

There is the acknowledgment by many of the older staff members
that they desire to be valued and understood for what they have
accomplished in the past. They also want to be respected for what
they are capable of doing now, and not feel as though other staff,
particularly those less experienced, are demanding more of them than
they can give.

In addition to school reforms and other changes they had
experienced, senior staff members, were aging and were having to
physically and emotionally deal with the affects of getting older:
encountering physical ailments themselves, or having to manage
spouses and/or parents with physical problems; and having to deal
with deaths of parents, siblings, or in-laws. Within the ranks of
senior staff and within a period of less than a year, one teacher
had heart surgery, one died of a heart attack, two were out for
lengthy illnesses, one had a spouse who had major surgery, several
had a parent or parent-in-law death, and one had two relatives
murdered by a former student. Additionally, several senior staff
members were in the process of divorce procedures. All those events
which are the 'normal' processes of life only compounded the senior
staff members' need for caring--the need to understand their

skepticism and to accept what they can give to change [fn:6-5-92zl;

HF:6-8:92:13].

232

Site-based Management Steering
annittee Members: Dealing With Ambiguity

Unlike many of the senior staff members, the members of the
steering committee (SC) wanted to believe SBM would bring a "new
stage of coherent development” to Division. Their intent was to
pave the way for collaboration and shared decision making among and
between all groups, thereby, flattening the traditional
hierarchical, authoritative model of organization. However, they
virtually had no model to follow as they embarked on change they
hoped would be more than moving from front to back or side to side,
and were unprepared for the personal toll that trying to find
clarity and direction in ambiguity took. The SC members needed
caring as they dealt with ambiguity either unrecognized or
unacknowledged by teachers and administrators.

A deep sense of frustration penetrated the SC members as they
attempted to understand and define their roles. They held a meeting
at the beginning of the year, bringing in a facilitator from the
district office to help them address the following:

1. DISCUSSION OF STEERING COMMITTEE SITUATION:
- Some agreement that we lack effectiveness
- Do we need a "retreat” in order to define ourselves?
Discussion centered on the need for a facilitator for
such a meeting

- Role clarification - What are we supposed to do? Why are

we still talking about the process at this date?

- A leading indicator is the absence of many members

- Agreement that we would need to know the outcome that

we expect from such a meeting prior to holding it
- Why is it that we aren't getting closure on our

projects:

* Is it because we aren't communicating?

* Is it because we don't have the time to communicate?
* Is it because we have no source of money?

*

Is it because the Steering Committee doesn't know
what its job is? [scminle-l-9l]

233

They found themselves striving for unity, yet exhibiting
fragmentation, a quality they hoped SBM would diminish in the whole
staff. From minutes of an SC meeting, their continued struggle to

define their role was evident.

ROLE 0E SIEERLNQ COMMITTEE MEMBERS: at Fishbowl

Meetings [whole staff meetings to discuss and vote on
school policy, new school projects]

Problem: We have agreed to act as one and speak as one
- we did not, conveying a message of fragmentation of
the Committee. A good deal of discussion took place
about what it means when a proposal from this Committee
goes to the Fishbowl. [scminzll-59l:l]

The SC members became the target of blame for a heightened
sense of fragmentation and distrust among the staff. Teachers
accused the committee of not ”accomplishing things for kids" when
the committee saw itself as the facilitator for faculty members to
take responsibility for making changes that would lead to those
accomplishments. The members discussed charges made by one faculty

member during a steering committee meeting.

Mr. .
The Steering Committee needs credibility - which he
means accomplishing things for kids. He thinks the

' staff is fragmented, feels that the whole variety of
projects underway produces more fragmentation, instead
of being unified. He wants to see something completed
- the Site-Based process isn't credible because we
haven't completed anything. He wants colleagues to
support each other. He feels completing a project will
cause many who doubt our viability to join the process.
[scmin:llo5-9l:l]

 

Although the teachers elected the members to the steering
committee, and although the steering committee was vaguely

understood to be the body that would assist teachers in gaining

234

empowerment, many faculty members saw the committee as only another
layer of bureaucracy and not a part of them.
Now when [we went] to that site-based, I was .

excited about it. But what I've seen over the year and

a half, there's been a lot of meetings, a lot of

meetings, a lot of talk. Nothing gets done but goes

from the steering committee to another committee. I've

always felt the best type of government was a

dictatorship. [CK:5—18-92:9]

You look at the steering committee and you see who
persistently is there. It's an isolated group.

[T]he rest of us in the building, really, have no

perception of them as a part of us. [IZ:3-l7-92:ll]

The ambiguity associated with SBM fostered misunderstandings
and misconceptions about the role of the steering committee.
Teachers wanted to tell the committee what to do and have them carry
it out; administrators feared the committee would take their
authority. Those attitudes affected the individual members of the
committee in numerous ways. Members felt personally attacked,
isolated, alienated, bitter, and ineffective.

The chairperson saw her role as leader, the one responsible for
keeping the 'big picture' in mind. She said that her role was
"investigative," checking out the ”hidden agendas" behind the
information and proposals brought to the steering committee. She
felt responsible for keeping the committee and faculty focused on
"[Division's] overall vision,” the "overall direction of the school
and the school as part of the district, and the overall improvement

of the school," [HF:l-23-92z2] as they considered initiatives for

policies and projects from teachers.

235

To accomplish her responsibilities, she sought mentorship from
the principal, whom she admired, to learn how to conduct efficient
meetings; to work with people; to keep 'the big picture' in mind and
not become mired in detail or side-tracked by projects that did not
contribute to the overall vision for the school. She was determined
to do her best to represent the teachers in a leadership position.
Rather than seeing her as representative of the faculty and working
for them, the teachers and committee members often made her the
recipient of comments that suggested she used her role to gain

power.

She's just a butt-licker, a clone of [Mattie].
Who does she think she is, the next black female
principal? [fnSC:3-3l-92z2]

A lot of them (teachers) say about me, ”There goes
'The Suit'" (calling attention to her dressing more
professionally since she took the position of steering
committee chair). Everybody sees it [seeking mentoring
from Mattie] as . . . ”she just wants to be an
administrator, too." They don't realize I'm working
for them [emphasis hers]. It's hard to empower people
who don't want to be empowered. '[Hle-30-92]

She rubs people the wrong way. We can't get in to
see [Mattie] because she's always in there. She's
feeling power and doesn't know how to use it.
[KGzl-23-92zl]

Additionally, the chairperson noted that shortly after she was
elected to the position, faculty members began treating her

differently.

They would present issues at lunch time, trying to
manipulate me by putting me in a position of having to
take a stand for or against an issue the steering
committee was discussing and that was maybe going to
come up to the whole faculty. There wasn't any more
light conversation. Now I'm pretty much left alone at

236

this point. They don't trust me because of my

position. They can't connect me with any particular

group. [HF:1-30-92:2]

The faculty elected her to the steering committee; the steering
committee elected her as the chairperson. Yet, her leadership
position only contributed to increased isolation and mistrust by
both groups. Although they chose her to 'lead' in the development of
the SBM process, they were ambivalent about what control and
authority she was to take and what they want to take.

One member of the steering committee ended the year feeling
frustrated and alienated from some of the teachers. He felt that as
a member of the steering committee, he had pushed too hard to make
changes, changes which would give teachers more decision-making
power and more support from administration. He found out, however,
that the teachers wanted the policies, but did not want the work and
responsibility for carrying them out. They wanted the steering
committee to "take care of it."

The question is not necessarily as to what the

teacher should do, the next question would be what do

you do for teachers who do not follow the rules. What

happens if you make a rule and nobody follows it?

[GS:6-9-92:1l]

His comment indicated particular frustration, for the "you" in
the comment "you make a rule," referred to the whole staff. That
is, the steering committee may present an initiative from a teacher
or committee of teachers, but the steering committee ne: se did not
decide whether or not it would be effected; the staff does. His

frustration emanated from experiences where the staff voted for a

policy, then wanted the steering committee to carry it out. For

237

instance, the staff voted for a policy stipulating that anyone
attending DHS on a regular basis (students, all staff, and
university people) must have an identification badge. The intent
was to ensure a safer environment by keeping out persons,
particularly dropouts and graduates who were drug dealers or
involved in gangs, who had no business at DHS. Teachers were not to
allow students without i.d. badges into their classrooms, but to
send them to the discipline office. Teachers seemed unclear
regarding the exact procedures--if students were to be sent each
time they came without a badge, or if students had a grace period.
Teachers questioned who was responsible for checking that teachers
wore their i.d. badges and that they checked students for wearing
theirs. The lines of authority were not clear. The teachers,
generally, as well as members of the steering committee, really did
not know who was responsible for implementing the policy--the
teachers, themselves; the administration; or the steering committee.
Or was it to be a collaborative effort? If the latter, how was the
collaboration formed?

The teacher felt discouraged and ineffective, ready to consider
leaving his position on the committee.

I think my effectiveness school-wide is almost

nil. I have pushed so hard for so many people, now

I've got people who are opposing whatever I say just

because I say it. . . . So I'm just going to back off

for awhile and say, ”Okay, you guys, let's get some

people in here to work together for the good of the

school. Go out there and work hard.” [GS:6-9-92:12]

Another member of the committee discontinued attending SC

meetings toward the end of the year, feeling that he was tired of

238

confronting issues for which he could not make a difference. This
teacher believed the principal usurped the authority of the steering
committee and that no matter what the steering committee recommended
or did, it meant nothing without the principal's approval. He did
not see administrative support for shared decision making and
collaboration, but only continued top-down authority.

I don't think I'm interested in being a member of
that committee anymore. It's just too much. Too much
time, too much frustration. The rewards have been very
intangible. . . . I hoped we could make some changes
and that we'd begin to share decision making. And
there sure is not any interest as far as I can see on
the part of the administrators of sharing decision
making. [EK:331-92:ll]

Substantiating the committee's frustration regarding the lack
of administrative support for collaboration, a teacher on the
steering committee stated with some bitterness:

. I suspect that a lot of administrators look

at site- based management like it's psychotherapy for
~ teachers. Basically they' re just letting us blow off

steam, have a wonderful time going through our little

song and dance, and when we're done with it, they're

going to do what they want to do anyway. I think

they're just playing mind games with us to tell you the

truth. [GS:6-9-92z6]

To add to the frustration, the teachers sought 'approval' for
change initiatives from the principal before bringing them to the
steering committee. They believed that if they did not have the

principal's support, there was no point in going to the committee
[SKzl-30-92:5,l3; 4:7-92; SM:5-12-92; AQ:5-18-92; ES:5-ll-92].
Members began feeling ineffective, tired, and angry.

Because of the way things have gone the last []
years at [Division], it has taken more energy out of me
than I am willing to give. . . . I find myself becoming
so frustrated with what I see going on and when you ask

239

me what can I do to change it, at this point I don't

know what I can do to change it. I can try to keep

pushing it [SBM] in the direction I think that that's

appropriate, but I really don't see myself making that

much of a difference . . . [NQ:3-4-92zlS]

This member also resigned from the steering committee.

Having to function within an ambiguous situation when others
were expecting clarity only increased the sense of frustration,
isolation, and distrust experienced by teachers on the steering
committee. Caring for them would require more than an understanding
of their feelings. It would require an understanding of the
ambiguous nature of their roles and how that ambiguity affected what

the committee could accomplish. It would require an understanding

that collaboration and support were necessary.

0 a o ' e o

The story of the innovative teachers centers around two themes:
teachers' victimization by the educational and community
bureaucracies, and their victimization by their own colleagues. In
this story, power and caring become inseparable, as teachers,
administrators, and 'outsiders'--the community business committee
and the university representatives--indicated their intent was to
work for better education for children, to show caring for students,
yet each group struggled to gain and/or maintain control over each
other. In all cases, those teachers who strove to care for students
through the development of curricula to improve student learning,
were victims of those power struggles, albeit, sometimes casualties

of their own colleagues' quest for power.

240

In a Nutsneli; What Is Collaboration?

 

Division High was the experimental school for many of the
school reform initiatives proposed for the Newtown School District.
Particularly, DHS became the pilot for the school partnership
concept which had as its foundation, collaboration among business,
community, university, and school. Integral to the partnership at
DHS were the community business committee (CBC) and representatives
from the local university (UR), both of which encouraged teachers to
propose various innovative plans and projects designed to improve
student learning.

Teachers working on ventures to improve student learning needed
the cooperation of administrators; of 'outsiders,’ that is, the CBC
and university; and of other teachers. Rather than stimulating
collaboration, however, the 'partnership projects' gave rise to
power struggles among the various groups, causing not only the
demise of educationally sound projects for students, but also an
attitude of futility among some teachers toward any attempt to alter
the current system. Instead of feeling unity in working together on
joint projects for students, faculty members felt they inherited
only more masters, that is, the bureaucracy of accountability only
increased for them.

The community business committee, having pledged itself to help
Newtown schools better prepare students for the world of work,
offered financial backing and, to a more limited degree, the
expertise of the Newtown business community, to teachers who

proposed innovative curricula. The local university representatives

241

(UR), formally dedicated to educating all students and to empowering
teachers and students, pledged their support by offering human
resources, expertise in disciplinary knowledge and pedagogy, and to
a limited degree, material resources, such as a computer and a fax
machine. However, with these offers of support came obligations for
accountability which, often, was contradictory between the groups,
as the teachers, CBC, and UR each had different goals.

Additionally, the new administration, particularly the
principal, was determined that the staff of DHS would develop the
mission and direction of DHS without the aid of outsiders; if the
CBC and the UR could support those goals, the school would welcome
their help with resources. The teachers, however, believed they
needed the cooperation and resources of the CBC and the local
university, as well as support and cooperation from administrators
and other teachers, in order to implement the ideas they believed
would benefit students. Teachers feared that if they did not
involve the outsiders in the planning, the latter would withdraw
their offers of financial and other types of support. A steering
committee member discusses the frustration felt by teachers
attempting to develop and implement projects needing the cooperation
of the administrators, the CBC and UR.

I think the [CBC] is not going to be with us a

whole lot longer. I don't know. That's my opinion.

But I don't think they're going to slow things down

[for us] and they're a group that wants to do. "Look,

we have money. We want to do these things. Let's get

this show on the road.” And if we're not willing to do

it, they're going to find schools that are. They don't

have to sit and wait for [Division]. They don't have

‘to wait for [Newtown]. There are twenty-two districts
in [] County. They don't have to wait. And it's my

242

perception that they're not going to. And we can't

slow everything down. I had a conversation . . . with

one of the people on one of the academies. They feel

very frustrated because they don't know, okay, here we

are, where do we need to go next? What do we need to

do to support a multi-managed project? What do we need

to do for support to get this show on the road?

[NQ:3-3l-92:5,6]

These fears strained the relationship between the
administrators and the faculty even more, for teachers participating
in projects advocated by the CBC and UR believed that the principal,
especially, was working against them, that she did not want change,
that she was threatened by their working with the outside groups,
and that she wanted to maintain total control of Division
[SKz4-7-92:1,2]

She's not willing to give up some of her control.

That's the whole issue. She's more controlling than

she comes across. That's what I find to be so

fascinating about her. . . . She's resistant to change,

and I'm so disappointed in her. [XM:5-12-92:6]

The distrust that permeated the staff and faculty prevented or
greatly limited the collaboration needed in order for the projects
to succeed. Teachers who had allowed themselves to risk-~to
tentatively believe that collaboration might be a viable concept at
DHS--were plunged into an even greater morass of suspicion and
paranoia regarding their relationships with administrators, and felt
betrayed and used by the CBC and university. They felt victimized
in their attempts to do something good for students.

On the other hand, the partnership projects caused teachers to

vie for power among themselves. Although teachers were victims of

power struggles by those within the educational and community

243

bureaucracies, they also were perpetrators of their own
victimization through individual efforts to gain more control and
authority. Some teachers saw the partnership projects as
opportunities to advance themselves in the district bureaucracy and,
therefore, sought to gain power for themselves at the expense of the
projects, ultimately, the students.

XM: . . . the people that were picked to be on the

team were not truly supportive of the whole idea. And

that's what blew that apart. . . . And one of them

wants to be an administrator and will do whatever is

necessary.- Which means, she does, if [Mattie] says, "I

don't like that idea,” she'll say, ”I don't like this

idea." So that was a component that we had no control

over. We didn't even think about that--about her

aspiring to be an administrator-and how that would

affect us. [XM:5-12-92:3]

Other teachers agreed with the rhetoric of the innovations.
They, however, refused to take part, or to even support the projects
by voting to allow teachers to try the ideas because they did not
believe the local university would come through with the necessary
financial support to make the projects work. Still others feared
that the teachers proposing the new curricula would receive
benefits--an extra planning period, fewer and better students, and
new equipment-~than they would. Consequently, they spoke out against
the projects, the teachers behind them, and the outsiders who
advocated the creation of the new curricula. One teacher commented
on the academy concept proposed by several teachers:

Well, from an administration standpoint, what they

were talking about is . . . what the teams concepts

were talking about two hours of planning. Well, that

would involve other staff persons. Well, from my

understanding, there wasn't any commitment as far as

money from [the local university] to fill the
positions. Until you have the cold cash or the money,

244

there's nothing that they can, as far as change,

changing the policy to work with now. It's easy to talk

about different changes, but in reality, if you don't

have the money to make the changes, then you can't do

it. . . . [Also] some of the other staff people .

just thought the extra planning time was extra hours of

free time. And they think these academies are going to

cream the top kids and leave us with the low

ones--which most of our kids are anyway. And if you

take even those that are some brighter, what does that

leave the rest of us with? [TEle6-92z5]

The story of the ninth-grade team illustrates the complexity of
these struggles. A teacher who tried to care for students by
creating an innovative program to decrease the dropout rate of ninth
graders and, ultimately, increase the rate of graduates from DHS,
continually faced barriers erected by other groups-~administrators,
the CBC and UR, and other teachers--who also had as their intention
caring for students. Yet, many of the actors, as well as the
observers, interpreted 'caring' as a struggle for power--power to

control faculty and students. And teachers, particularly, felt

caught in the middle of those more powerful than they.

Int Ninth Gtade Tenn

The ninth grade team concept was initiated by one teacher who
believed that if the dropout rate of ninth graders could be
decreased, the chances that those students would graduate would
significantly increase. This teacher, who I will call Marty, taught
only ninth graders. During the previous year, she had written a
proposal to the community business committee (CBC) who had offered
financial help to teachers to develop innovative ways to increase

student learning and better prepare students for the work-world.

245

The committee liked the original proposal and encouraged her to
expand her ideas. She, then, proposed the ninth grade team concept.
In the proposal, she outlined the need for a teacher
representing each of the academic subject areas--math, science,
English, and social studies; she indicated the need for smaller
classes (25 students) for each of the four teachers; a need for
scheduling so that all students would rotate among those teachers; a
need for an extra planning period so that the four teachers could
spend time each day discussing students and jointly planning their
classes; and, finally, the need for an orientation prior to the
opening of the following school year in order to begin the bonding
process among students and teachers to begin. The proposal was
accepted with enthusiasm by the community business committee
[rtminle-9l:2]; with a 'jump-on-the-bandwagon' approach by the
university representatives (UR) who saw it as an opportunity to get
their foot in the door to begin their part in fulfilling their role
as a partner in school reform at DHS [fn:10-25-9l; 1-22-92]; with an
'I'mrunning-this-school-and-we'll-see-what-goes-on-here' approach by
the principal [fn:10-91; MJ:10-5-9l:3]; and by some faculty,
distrust of its innovator, distrust of how it would impact on them,
and distrust of the actual--other than rhetorica1--commitment of the
principal, the CBC and the university to the project [fn:lO~25-9l;
TE:5-26-92:5; HF:6-8-92:5] Additionally, the three teachers who
agreed to work with Marty and who were interested in the ninth grade

team concept, each had her/his own agenda as a team member, and none

246

was as convinced as Marty of the importance and the viability of the

concept.
I guess what I'm thinking, that the other piece is

that [Laura, pseudonym for a team member] very much

wants to be an administrator. And that she and

[Nadine, pseudonym for another team member] kept

talking about how they couldn't do this [start the

ninth grade team] this fall. [Nadine] and I had this

one conversation where she said, "You know, [Marty],

this, we just can't do this. We just can't do this.

And I said, "Well, [Nadine], I hear what you're saying.

I really want to do this, but I can't make the decision

for you. You have to make your own decision.

Obviously I was the person who felt strongest about

this whole concept. [SKz4-7-92:l]

Marty began work on the ninth grade team with the approval of
the CBC, and with enthusiastic offers of help from the UR, who
assigned university people to help the ninth grade team members
write a detailed timeline and proposal for the development of the
project, and to think through the curriculum implications. With the
exception of Marty, however, the actual team members were skeptical
and not totally committed.

At the same time, the principal and the chairperson of the
steering committee cautioned the team that the project had not been
approved by the faculty through fishbowl [the voting body of the
entire staff] consensus, that the steering committee had not
approved it for fishbowl presentation, and that the principal needed
to see how every detail for the project would be accomplished before
she would support it.

Marty asked the principal if they should go ahead with the

pr0posal sanctioned by the CBC and was not told to cease working on

the proposal; she was, however, again cautioned that Mattie would

247

not allow the ninth grade team to begin the following school year

unless everything needed was in place.
Mrs. [Johnson] kept saying to me, "We need to talk

about this and look at this before we get into the

situation.” So I kept asking questions, "O.K., how are

we going to do this? How are we going to do that?

What's going to happen here?" And we wanted to do this

[keep communication open between the team and

administrators]. And I kept talking to [an assistant

principal] and I talked with Mrs. [Johnson] about this

and she would say I need to talk with the assistant

principal. I need to talk with [] my department chair.

That she wanted these things to go through channels.

[SK:1-30-92:6]

The team held several meetings to plan the development of the
project; each time they asked Mattie to attend so she could give
them input about what they were doing and what she expected. She
never attended [rtminzl-22-92; SK:1-30-92:6].

One of the significant changes the team required was in
scheduling students to rotate among the four teachers and in
scheduling a planning period for all four teachers to meet on a
daily basis. The team members designed alternative schedules for
themselves, taking into consideration the requirements, in addition
to the four academic areas, for ninth grade students. Marty
presented them to the deputy principal, who was in charge of the
master schedule. She asked him to work a schedule in for the fall
semester that would accommodate the needed changes in order for the_
team to function. His response was that he could not alter the
schedule until he had notice from Mrs. Johnson to do so

[KXz2-20-92:7]. Marty went to Mattie, who said that the ninth grade

team could not begin the following school year unless the scheduling

248

was in place, and that there was almost no point in bringing the
proposal to the steering committee until that was done. She advised
Marty to work with the deputy principal on the needed scheduling
changes. Marty returned to the deputy principal with the message
from Mattie; he responded that he could do nothing until Mrs.
Johnson advised him.

She's made no effort in terms of her

administrative team, in terms of working with those

guys and pulling them together. Discussing any or

taking an notions of the ninth grade team, or any kinds

of changes don't seem to go through that process at

all. They don't seem to be involved. It became very

clear [the deputy principal] did not know what was

going on with this ninth grade team. He said, "No,”

and he talked with a [university person] about the fact

that [Mattie] doesn't discuss all this with him.

[SKz4-792zll]

The CBC wanted reassurance that the team had the backing of the
faculty and the administration. They also wanted to know exactly
what the ninth grade team expected of them, particularly in terms of
financial support. They began gently, but firmly, requesting the
team to give them specifics regarding the timeline and what it was
the team needed. [rtminz1-10-92] Marty recounted:

I had to get approval from the steering committee

first before the [business committee] would see this as

a viable project and a unified [Division High]. You

know, it was like [Division] had to get their act

together . . . before [the committee] were going to

fund it. [SKz4-7-92z9]

Because the UR viewed working with the ninth grade team as part
of their role at DHS, they provided help to the team with an all-day
planning session to work on the details of the proposal that would

justify the project and that would address Mattie's concerns. They

249

also brought in a person to work with the deputy principal on the
computer scheduling. Significantly, neither of these arrangements
was discussed with--or even mentioned to--the principal prior to
their implementation. Additionally, the UR noted they had arranged
to bring in people on a regular basis to DHS for re-allocated time,
that is, to substitute in classes so teachers could have school time
to work on the team proposal and other academic concerns. The team
members were pleased because they thought the university help would
advance them in getting the team proposal another step closer to the
steering committee and a staff vote. The principal, however, did not
want teachers released from more classes, and was not pleased that
the university had made such unilateral decisions.
It's like when it came time to reschedule the

ninth graders. She didn't want, she didn't even really

care about them. But when I said to her, "Well, look,

I'm getting this money, I'm getting the support [for

scheduling] from the UR. I'm getting this money, this

part of a project from CBC, and she was concerned about

other people thinking I wasn't getting support here in

the school. That's when she said, ”Your students will

be scheduled for next year." So my hope always was

that, I mean she didn't have any basic support for it.

I thought there would be enough political pressure, if

her consuming interest is the image of the school, she

would support it. [SKz4-7-92:11]

On March 18th, almost a year from the initial discussions of
‘the ninth grade team project, the team met with faculty members who
were proposing academies and with one of the assistant principals to
determine what exactly needed to be done in order for these projects
to begin in the fall. As the discussion progressed, it became

obvious that there was great confusion about the status of the

academies and of the ninth grade team. The assistant principal was

250

under the impression that all had been approved, that they did not
have to go to the steering committee or the fishbowl, and that they
just needed to complete the detail work. The teachers and the
assistant principal spent a considerable amount of time debating
those issues. One teacher summed up the difficulty this way:

One of the things that I saw happening here was
that teachers, everybody on the steering committee, not
just the teachers and the administrators, or whatever,
the people that were going to the steering committee
initially were having a lot of difficulty because the
steering committee didn't even have its act together
and what the steps were and step-by-step processes--you
had to have this completed, you have to have this
completed. And then you had to go to a fishbowl, and
then you had to get the support of the staff at the
fishbowl. And then, when did you go to the [CBC] or
[UR]? And if the [CBC] or [UR] wanted something before
you went to the steering committee or fishbowl, what
did you do? [XMz5-12-92z3]

The meeting adjourned with the tentative belief that the ninth
grade team and the academies, with one exception, had to present
their proposals to the steering committee and, if they were
approved, present them to the fishbowl for a vote; the assistant
principal would seek information to verify that. [fn:3-18-92;
facminz3-l8-92z2]

On March Blst, the steering committee had the ninth grade team
proposal on its agenda. On that date, not only did the proposal
die, but teachers were caught in power struggles among themselves
and between themselves and administrators, and between
administrators and outsiders. This is the story in Marty's words:

. and nobody ever disagreed with me. ”No,

[Marty] this is a rotten idea. We're not going to do

this. Everyone agreed with me in theory. . . . And then

I didn't realize until that day that we were back on
the agenda again. I'd gone in that morning to talk to

251

[the deputy principal] about the [] master schedule,
setting up the meeting for the master schedule and he
was just disputing, he just brushed me off, he blew me
away, said, ”I don't know anything about this. We're
not going to be able to do this." And I said things to
him like, you know, ”What's wrong? Aren't you
administrators communicating? Don't you have a
responsibility to communicate as an administrative
team?" . . . [S]o I went over to share that with [the
SC chairperson] that I was shocked that he said he
didn't know anything about what's going on. "Why isn't
anybody talking to him?" and so she said, ”Why you know
this is on the steering committee tonight.” And [she]
wasn't going to be there so [a representative of the
clerical staff on the SC] would run the meeting. [The
SC chairperson] said, "Are you going to be at the
steering committee?” and I said yes, I would be there.
And the same person went over to [Laura] and said, ”Are
you going to be at the steering committee?” and Laura
said, "No, I have a hair appointment on Tuesdays." She
doesn't go; [Nadine] and I have gone before and I
didn't see it as a big deal. Mrs. [Johnson] called me
down to her office and said, [Laura]--and I don't know
what the whole conversation was--but, yes, [Laura]

would be there at the steering committee . . . I feel
there was some manipulation there on Mrs. [Johnson's]
part, clearly. . . . [S]he came on very strong to Laura

and I about, you know, [her] greatest concern, "I can't
support this because you [the team] people are not
together.” And when [Laura] came out [in the SC
meeting] and said we can't depend on just four people,
we need to have at least eight people [a substitute for
each of the original team members], I'm sure all of
that was coming out of the meeting she had with Mrs.
[Johnson]. . . . [T]hen when this came out in the
meeting, at the steering committee meeting, I was just,
blown away. That hurt. . . . I said to [Laura], ”You
just pulled the rug out from under my feet." She's
been very offended by that. . . . It was not until that
meeting that I really knew this was over. This is not
going to happen. But the thing about it that bothers
me the most is I feel that it appears that it was
totally a team problem, and not the manipulation from
outside the team that caused this to happen.
[SKzl-30-92:6; 4-7-92:2,3,4]

Marty intended to show caring for students by developing a
curriculum that encouraged students to stay in school, that raised

expectations for them, and provided teachers with opportunities to

252

help them reach those expectations. Instead, her attempts to arrive
at caring resulted in the dissolution of her relationship with Laura
(”I went to talk to [Laura] and it just became so painful, I left

. she even feels she has to leave the building because of this
situation”); a cold, formal relationship with the principal ("Since
the dissolution of the ninth grade team, she has not even talked to
me about it. A 'Good morning. How are you?’ That's all I ever
get from her.') [SKz4-792:7]); and a sense of futility regarding
changes that involve anything but her own classroom.

One of my frustrations in the past couple of
years, it's like I've been here for ten years working
on that Earth Science curriculum, so to speak, and I've
sort of gotten to the point where I just felt like the
kinds of changes that I was making in terms of
refinement and things that I was doing in my own
individual classroom didn't, I didn't feel like I was
getting that much of a return from what I was doing. I
felt like I needed a broader support system in terms of
change for the kids. In terms of doing different kinds
of things. And so, that's why that the ninth grade
team seemed like such a good idea to me and was so
difficult when the whole thing just fell apart because
I'm feeling like . . . do I just pull back and do
things in my own classroom? Knowing where I was at
'with that, and why I decided to try and get some
support other places, in terms of what happens with the
kids. So, I don't know. I just don't know.
[SK:5-12-92:l]

W

The story of the ninth grade team illustrates the complexity of
the concepts of caring and power. Through this story we see that
the concepts of caring and power are not so easily defined and
separated. The terms, themselves, are interpreted differently

depending on one's background and experiences. And, as important,

253

caring and power are integrated--authority and control are often
needed in order to effect caring, and caring as a relationship
involving sensitivity, understanding, and compassion is needed to
effect a positive use of power. In the story of the ninth grade
team, we see the yearning of one teacher, particularly, to give and
to receive caring, of an administrator who believes she is caring,
and of two outside groups formally committed to the idea of caring
for students through improving education. We see the idea of caring
used to gain power, of power used to promote caring, and of caring
and power misinterpreted. To better understand these relationships,
I will explore the dynamics of the situation by examining Marty's
perception of herself, other teachers, Mattie, the CBC, and the UR
in relation to the uses of caring and power in regard to the ninth
grade team.

Marty proposed the concept of the ninth grade team with the
encouragement of the CBC. Because she had successfully implemented
an Earth Science project which improved student achievement, the
chairperson of the CBC asked her to submit a proposal that would
involve more students in learning improvement. She was eager to do
this, as she saw it as an opportunity to work on a school-wide level
to push for higher expectations and achievement for students.
Throughout all my interviews with her and in informal conversations
which I noted in my fieldnotes, she reiterated her belief that
caring for students was inextricably connected to higher
expectations for the youngsters. She repeated her concern that

teachers and administrators did not care for students because they

254

were not willing to change the current structure, and were not
willing to risk implementing something new that may not be perfect
immediately.

Marty viewed herself as willing to take risks for the students.
She sought the support of the CBC, seeing it as a source of funding,
without which there was no hope for implementing the ninth grade
team concept. She compiled research data for the proposal to
demonstrate that a team concept has been effective in retention of
high school students. She recruited teachers to work with her,
offering them the leadership role of the team and offering herself
to do the detail work. She volunteered to talk with Mattie and the
deputy principal to explain and justify the concept; she fought,
however unsuccessfully, for changes in the scheduling procedures for
the team's teachers and for the students who would become part of
the team; she talked with other teachers to gain their support; she
worked with the UR to negotiate financial and human resources. Each
time another roadblock was put up, Marty tried to find a way over or
around it. IHer reasoning was that she believed the ninth grade team
really would positively impact kids. By pushing as hard as she did,
she made enemies and lost credibility among the administrators and
among teachers, including those on the ninth grade team. One
teacher patronizingly said, ”God bless her, [Marty's] always been a
crusader, always will be. No matter what it is, she has to have a
cause. You know? And it just wears you out." [TDz2-ll-92:12]
Another teacher said that Marty ”is just trying to promote herself.

She'll never do it 'cause no one supports her. She pushes too

255

hard” [BNz8-3-92z2]. Finally, the principal said, "She has to learn
that just because you have a good idea, that doesn't always mean
it's time for that idea. She has to learn that.” [MJz3-31-92zl]
Marty interpreted Mattie's role in the ninth grade team debacle
as one of increasing and maintaining the principal's authority. She
viewed Mattie's insistence on a detailed plan for the ninth grade
team, including rationale and implementation methods and resources,
as Mattie's desire to exert even more control over teachers, to be
the authority in the school. She construed Mattie's lack of overt
support as her not wanting to take risks for fear of failure and
damaging her reputation with central office and in the community,
that is, not wanting to 'weaken' her power base. Marty concluded
that Mattie did not really care for students, but used the rhetoric
of care to promote her own interests. Interestingly, Marty did not
question Mattie's caring for her as a teacher. There seemed to be
the assumption that if Mattie had actively supported the ninth grade
team concept, she would have overtly and concretely shown caring for
teachers by her trusting their professional judgment concerning the
benefit of that program for students. .
Reflecting on the individuals on the team, Marty felt betrayed
and hurt that they did not have the professionalism and/or the trust
to discuss their skepticism about the team with her. She recognized
that she was by far the most committed to the project, but hoped
that as they worked together to develop the project_they would
become as excited as she was. That did not occur. She was dismayed

because they did not support a change that would give students a

256

better opportunity to 'make it' through school. This was a chance
for teachers to support one another to actually make changes and she
~could not get them to do it. Her biggest disappointment, however,
was the fact that they sabotaged the whole idea because they did not
simply resign from the team when, in fact, they were not really
committed to it. She felt personally and professionally betrayed.
She felt that the other members, in effect, lied to her--and,
perhaps to themselves--telling her they were supportive, yet
indicating only their skepticism to others. She felt the pervasive
mistrust that enveloped the faculty; a mistrust so great that it
virtually prevented them from working together to make changes for
themselves and students-~even when they professed wanting change.
When the proposal failed in the steering committee, Marty left
believing that here were more teachers who did not really care about
students.

What I didn't understand is, if there was a team
problem, and I said this to [Laura], "[Laura], why
didn' t you just say you weren' t committed to this?"

. . Why couldn't they just say, "I don't want to do
this, ” so I could have gone ahead with it? There are
other people. That's the one piece that puzzles me. I
understand that there's that team problem, but why did
that have to be the death of it? Why did, why was it
so important that. . . . Why would [Laura] say, ”We'll
do this. We can do this next year." She's not
committed to doing this next year. No commitment
whatsoever. She has a specialist degree. . . . I'm
sure another piece of this is [] said something about
[Mattie] had talked about getting [Laura] an
administrative internship here at Division. You know
what's scary to me, it's what people will do to become
administrators in this system. . . . I guess it's
something that's so hard for me to understand why
change, any idea that somebody proposes seems to be so
threatening to so many other teachers, or why other
teachers are not supporting the teachers. . . . If we
stood together as a group and supported each other we
could do whatever

257

it is we wanted to do. But we don't. And that's the

piece I'm, and from my experience with, like trying to

last year get the science curriculum project accepted,

get that through the steering committee. Every time

you are suggesting something different, there is a lot

of resistance from everywhere. . . . Why is it that

nothing, absolutely nothing, happens around here

without the most incredibly painful struggle?

Nobody ever really cares about what impacts on the

kids. [SKz4-7-92:6,7,8,9]

Marty's perception of the CBC and UR was that they were
outsiders without whose help the ninth grade teams and the proposed
academies would not succeed. Although she had some difficulty with
each of these organizations--CBC not having the funding they had,
originally indicated for the projects, and the UR not having the
support of the administration and a large segment of the
faculty--she looked to them to give her leverage to get the ninth
grade team past the principal and the steering committee. That is,
she hoped that if she could show the principal and the members of
the steering committee that she had funding and human and other
material resources, in addition to encouragement for the project as
an educationally sound innovation, from those outside organizations,
the project would receive the sanction of the administration and the
governance body of SBM, virtually assuring its passage among the
faculty. Marty saw Mattie's passive support for the ninth grade
team--her not stopping it, but not actively endorsing it--as
endangering her support from the CBC and the UR. Since CBC would
provide the bulk of the funding, she particularly resented Mattie

for not allowing her to go to CBC with the proposal until it passed

through all the formal procedures of SBM, many of which she was

258

uncertain, and the informal contacts Mattie suggested she make.
Marty viewed the CBC and UR as critical in the development and
implementation of her project.

Although Marty saw herself as caring for students, other
teachers viewed her attempts at innovation as a way for her to gain
power for herself-~to get better students in her classes, to have an
extra planning period, and to get more materials and help from the
CBC and UR. Marty viewed Mattie as using power to block efforts for
change, rather than using administrative power to empower teachers
to enable them to effect ways of caring for students. Finally,
Marty was the recipient of care and power, as well as the pawn of
power, from the CBC and the UR. Both groups empowered her through
their gifts of resources to enable her to concretely plan for the
ninth grade team. Both groups also used her to facilitate their
goals--the CBC to show the community they were involved in helping
the schools, and to gain some control over the curriculum in the
school; and the UR, to fulfill what they saw as the university role
in school reform.

Marty needed the principal's, the CBC's and the UR's power in
order to effect caring, that is, to develop and establish a program
that would increase student retention, achievement, and learning.
She needed Mattie's caring and understanding as she attempted to
work with a distrustful and fragmented staff. She needed overt,
concrete, active support from Mattie--Mattie's attendance at the
ninth grade team planning meetings; her authorizing the deputy

principal to work with the master schedule to explore ways to

259

accommodate the team concept; her explaining to staff the necessity
for, and logic behind, having a team planning period as well as an
individual one for the teachers involved with the ninth grade team;
and her calling for volunteers to work with the initial team. Or,
perhaps Mattie needed to use her power to talk with the team members
to clearly state her objections and her concerns, and her preference
for and reasoning behind her wanting to move more slowly on the
project. Perhaps, she needed to indicate her need for caring by
explaining the pressures and insecurities she felt from being in a
position of leadership for which there was no model--no one really
knew how SBM should function; no one knew how a partnership between
schools and business and between schools and a university worked;
and, most of all, no one really understood what 'collaboration'
meant.

Although the CBC and the UR ostensibly provided caring for
students in a tangible sense of granting funding, expertise, and
human resources, they also wielded--or attempted to wield-~power
over Marty and over Division. Marty saw the CBC and UR as agents
who could supply her with the extended resources needed for the
ninth grade team that the economically ailing Newtown District could
not. She saw the CBC as having political influence in the
community, which could possibly lead to more 'outside' support for
DHS in the form funding and other resources, as well as support for
changes leading to community support of teachers. Although she
became somewhat wary after learning the CBC did not have the money

they originally promised (”As it turns out they were playing games

260

with us and they don't have any real money either" [SKz4-7-92:9]),
she continued to see the committee as a caring component for the
ninth grade team-~caring in the sense that she received
encouragement to develop and attempt to carry out her ideas to
better serve kids.

She saw the UR as bringing expertise and human resources to
enable teachers to make educationally sound programmatic changes.
.She also viewed the university as having political power over the
central office administrators. Since the university was well-known
for its work in school reform, the district administrators were
eager for the university offer to help Newtown's floundering--and
failing-~school district. Because of the political implications, she
thought that if the UR supported her and the ninth grade team, the
principal would have a more difficult time resisting the team's
efforts. Marty sought the help of various university
representatives for their expertise, but also for their willingness
to use whatever political influence they had to advance her cause.
In a sense, she seemed to feel that she needed to 'fight' power with
power, and since as a teacher she had very little, she used the
university. Because the UR were willing to assist her in every way
possible, she believed they really cared for teachers and students.

There was another way of looking at the CBC's and UR's
involvement. Each of these groups used Marty to advance their own
agendas. The business community complained that the students
graduating from the Newtown schools were ill-prepared to function in

the work world. They used low scores on achievement tests and the

261

increasing rate of students dropping out of high school as their
basis. Through a coalition of the state, corporations, and
universities, the Newtown business community opted to become
partners with the schools in order to assist in improving schools so
that students would be better prepared for work in the community.
The goal of the CBC was to help teachers generate innovative
programs by offering primarily financial assistance. By their
controlling the funding, however, they also gained the right for
input into the programs that would receive their support. Those that
were at the top of their list were academies directly related to
businessa-the Financial Services Academy, the Technology and
Engineering Academy, and the Health Science Academy. The ninth
grade team was an outgrowth of a science project and could
conceivably be the CBC's attempt at altruism; the ninth grade team
was the CBC's symbol to parents, students, and educators that the
business community wanted to help all students. Thus, the CBC I
offered support to Marty in terms of funding, but funding less than
originally had been promised her. Through the ninth grade team, the
CBC could be seen as truly interested in aiding all Newtown's
students.

The UR, too, had their own agenda. The local university was
committed to the partnership of the state, corporations, and
universities; it was a front-runner in school reform citing
collaboration among the State and many of its institutions to
improve schooling, especially that in urban schools. The school

district of Newtown provided a challenge befitting the reputation of

262

this university. Consequently, DHS, as the worst school in an
economically depressed and crime-ridden city was almost akin to
grabbing the brass ring for the UR. If the university
representatives could effect changes within DHS that improved
student achievement and improved relationships among the school,
home, and other institutions, the education component of the
university would receive acclaim and prestige in the field of
education nationally and internationally. Now this does not mean
that those university people working at DHS did not believe in
students. Quite the contrary. As one of those people, I can attest
that those of us who actually worked with teachers and students saw
that as our primary goal. However, one must not forget the political
concerns that emanated from those hierarchically above the workers.
Marty, and the ninth grade team, were used politically by the
university to advance its own goal: to do research and to gain
national acclaim for bettering a failing urban school. The
university used the ninth grade team to experiment with
collaboration and with partnership--without really investigating how
their work coincided with the mission of the school and the
direction the staff wanted to take in order to work toward the goals
the DHS community envisioned. Because of the latter, the university
could be seen as using Marty to accomplish its own agenda, using
political power in the guise of caring to advance itself.

The incident of the ninth grade team was one small episode in
one school. In it we saw that the teachers were both the victims

and the perpetrators of power struggles. This episode opened up for

263

question the degree to which mistrust and fragmentation among

teachers affect their ability to work toward an ethic of caring.

REFLECTION

An ethic of caring is "an ethic of relation" (Noddings, 1992,
p. 21). There is an ”emphasis on living together, on creating,
maintaining, and enhancing positive relations”; an ethic caring
"does not posit one greatest good to be optimized, nor does it
separate means and ends"; and finally, "it does not regard caring
solely as an individual attribute,” but "recognizes the part played
by the cared-for” (p. 21). In an ethic of care, caring is not
simply a response to a moment of decision making involving
justification or moral choices; an ethic of care requires continuous
working together to build and sustain affirmative relationships with
others. It requires reciprocity, one who cares and one who is
capable of receiving that care.

As I reflected on the staff of Division High, I saw inadequate
communication and fragmentation among the teachers that lead to a
serious distrust among themselves. The distrust perpetuated their
fragmentation and inability to work together, preventing or severely
limiting them from making changes they professed to want and/or
need-changes to build trust among themselves in order to
collaborate, to develop and implement leadership emanating from
their own ranks, and to develop innovative curriculum for students.

The changes they desired necessitated trust, and trust required

264

relationship. Rather than forming relationships, teachers appeared
to have disengaged, to have pulled back into themselves even more.
Teachers recognized the need to build trust among themselves
before they could collaborate effectively to make changes. Yet, the
history of the school and the history the senior staff carried with
them seemed to stand in the way of establishing trust. They talked,
individually or in small groups, about the severe distrust among the
staff brought about by fragmentation, lack of communication, and
lextreme individualism, but would not address those issues as a
faculty. The tendency was to transfer their own problems as a staff
to the traditional adversarial relationship between teachers and
administrators. That is, rather than confronting their own problems
and seeking ways in which to deal with them, they resorted to
blaming the administration, particularly the principal, for the
failures to accomplish what teachers wanted to see happening at DHS.
Teachers wanted support for various projects, ideas, or plans.
But they were unwilling to support each other as a staff. They
complained about the low expectations for students, but when the
members of the math department raised standards, other teachers
criticized them and attempted to work against them. Teachers
bemoaned the high dropout rate, especially of ninth graders, and
recognized the 'unfriendly' atmosphere into which the middle
schoolers were coming. Yet, when a teacher initiated the concept of
the ninth grade team, no one volunteered, few teachers backed the

project, and many worked against it.

265

They wanted leadership, not only from the principal, but from
their own ranks. They, however, were not connected as a faculty,
preventing them from taking stances as a group and providing
leadership that was representative of the staff. The teachers were
divided in their conceptions of leadership, some wanting teachers to
have virtually all decision making authority concerning policies
within DHS and others wanting only the freedom to do what they
wanted within the confines of their classrooms. To some, leadership
implied unquestioning support from the principal for whatever
teachers deemed beneficial for students; for others, leadership
meant shared decision making between faculty and administrators,
with authority to see policies were carried out resting with
administrators. Teachers could not agree among themselves what
leadership meant to them and if, or to what degree, they wanted to
lead.

They used the word "support" to imply their need for
caring--from their colleagues, from the administrators, and from the
outsiders. How did they understand support? Too often, it seemed
as though teachers felt supported--and cared for--only when others
agreed with them as individuals or small groups. They did not see
support as the opportunity to explore issues, challenge each other,
or work together in relation to each other as persons and
professionals. Efforts toward building relationships were seen as
threats to their individualism and to themselves as individuals.

The staff did not function as a unified body.

266

Given the distrust and lack of unity among the staff, pursuing
an ethic of care is a difficult, at best, goal for the faculty at
DHS. Some teachers have attempted to extend care, to be the
one-caring, but other teachers find it hard, if not impossible, to
receive care. Some senior teachers evidenced their willingness to
work on change, but their efforts were not enough for others; care
offered, but not received. Teachers' attempts to improve teaching
and learning, thus benefiting both teachers and students, were
resisted and rejected; care offered, but not received. Teachers
chosen by their peers to lead them through new ways of governance
and organization were verbally maligned and their attempts at
leadership were undermined; care offered, but not received.

Complicating the situation was the interpretation that care
offered was often seen as power, power by other teachers to take
control of their colleagues or to gain 'perks' for themselves, or by
teachers in collusion with administrators to move up the
bureaucratic hierarchy. Fragmentation and lack of communication as a
faculty contributed to the invidious distrust that pervaded the
staff, turning efforts to care into power struggles. Noddings
(1984) states that if an ethic of care is to develop, there needs to
be modeling, dialogue, practice, and confirmation. Some teachers
attempted to model caring; there was little or no dialogue or
practice, and virtually no confirmation of their efforts to care.

As important, there was virtually no one who seemed to know how to

receive care. Most often, caring was interpreted as control.

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In the following chapter, I will explore the relationships
between care and power as they affect both faculty and
administration. Is it enough for staff members, including
administrators, to simply possess an attitude of caring, where there
is a sympathetic or empathic reaction to others in response to
particular circumstances? Is it possible for staff and
administrators to pursue an ethic of care, requiring the creation
and maintenance of relationships, the ability to give and receive
care? How is power a part of caring--or is it? If an ethic of care
necessitates care-giving to be situational, suspending adherence to
rules or regulations designed to ensure fairness via objectively
judging a situation by criteria applied to all like situations, does
that give the one-caring power over others, that is control over
others? Can caring and power lead to freedom--freedom for change,
freedom for the individual as well as the group? These questions
will be explored with the intent, not of finding answers, but of
finding directions that will encourage us in the pursuit of equity

and freedom in our society.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CARING-POWER: A CONUNDRUM

I, who saw power linked to oppression in
everything, did not want caring to be about power, and
thereby about oppression . . . I wanted the ”ethic of
caring” to be pristine, to be somehow beyond issues of
power that I considered to be essentially hegemonic and
masculine.

George W. Noblit
"Power and Caring”

Like Noblit, when I entered Division High, I, too wanted an
ethic of caring to be "pristine." I envisioned caring and power as
dichotomous, if not diametrically opposed. For me, caring was
relation, connectedness, concern, giving and receiving; it was
harmonious community. Power, as I envisioned it, had no role in a
caring community, for power projected negative qualities--authority,
control, domination, force--that produced oppression. I expected
power to be almost as ”pristine," in a perverse sense, as I wanted
caring to be in a real sense. That is not what I learned. Thus,
the conundrum-~the intricate riddle-~of caring and power.

The complexity of the relationships between caring and power

become apparent as we recognize that both caring and power are

268

269

relational, reciprocal, contextual, and socially constructed.1 But
as you might expect, there are differences within the similarities,
thus, adding to the challenge our puzzle presents. In the following
section, I explore those characteristics of caring and power,
including their similarities and differences, in light of Division's
attempts to effect reforms, in the midst of a bureaucracy based on

power, that reflect elements of an ethic of care .

CARING AND POWER: SHARED ATTRIBUTES

W b e at o s - I d vid
a a o lective Car

Gilligan (1982) and Noddings (1984, 1992) both conceptualize an
ethic caring2 as involving a web or circle of relationships that
leads to connection between and among individuals and builds
community. Power, although often viewed as a property of the
individual, is, I believe, similar to caring in its dependence on
the interaction of persons. It functions within a web of relations,
or like a machine with each cog dependent on the others and in which
each person is caught (Burbules, 1986; Foucault, 1980; Gliddens,
1979). In terms of educational reform, I believe it is necessary to
look at the power relationships already in place, for,
realistically, the creation and implementation of an ethic of

caring, if it occurs, will evolve from within those relationships.

 

1For a detailed discussion of power as relational, reciprocal,
socially constructed, and contextual, see Burbules (1986).

21 will use Burbles' work as a guide to my discussion of power
as relational and reciprocal.

270

The question, then, becomes what is the web of relationships for
caring-power? Let us begin to think about this question by
reflecting on the story of Division.3

As part of the Newtown school district, certain power
relations3 at Division were inherent, that is, they were not chosen
but were necessary simply because of the circumstances under which
teachers and administrators came together. As part of a
bureaucratic hierarchy, the staff were in positions that reflected a
background of conflicting interests and a continuous tension between
compliance and resistance. The relationship between teachers and
administrators in Newtown was particularly strained because of the
historically strong union mentality and ties within the city and,
subsequently, within the school district. Whenever change in policy
or practice emanated from the building or central office
administration, teachers, generally, were suspect and distrustful
that the changes would benefit them. The assumption was the
relation with administration was adversarial.

To complicate matters, the union no longer held the power in
the district that it once did. It was weakened and in the midst of
attempting to re-define itself. Although it was the vehicle through
which the teachers negotiated with the administration, increasingly

more teachers decried their relationship with the union, publicly

 

3I define ”power relations” using Burbules' (1986) perspectives, as

activities, attitudes, barriers, and so forth that bind and
constrain the activities of both persons or groups and which coerce
each to define its purposes and range of alternatives partly in
terms of the other.

271

citing their dissatisfaction. The union, however, retained the
power to speak for all teachers.

The union representing the support staff-~food service,
security, custodial, and maintenance staff--affected, and was
affected, by the teachers' union. Depending on the negotiating
packages, the two unions intersected, supporting each other, or
separated, working against one another. Relationships between
teachers and support staff, however, were not strained, for both
felt they were in submissive positions to the higher power of
building and district administrators and the board of education.

At Division the relationship between teachers and support staff
was hierarchical, although I would suspect the teachers would not
describe it as such. The support staff, unless their jobs-~security
guards or maintenance, for example--directly affected teachers, were
barely acknowledged by the teaching staff. The teachers had the
privilege of choosing when to make them visible, thus, maintaining
hierarchy and power, to a degree, over support staff.

The relationship between levels of administration at Division
generally did not appear adversarial, but were definitely driven by
power, each level accountable to the one above. The deputy
principal and the assistant principals would not make decisions
without Mattie's approval, and Mattie would not sanction non-routine
requests or activities without consulting the rules of the
organization, that is, the district, or without consulting her
"bosses,” the secondary curriculum director and the superintendent.

\

That sense of always being accountable to the power level above

272

resulted in not only a hierarchy of power, but relations among the
Division administrators and between the administrators and the
teachers, and between teachers and support staff.

A school challenged to care faces the reality of already
existent power relationships. Within those relations are separate,
unique entities, all competing with and struggling against one
another for scare resources--materials, funding, time, human
resources-~or for power--authority, control--itse1f. The result is
tension between fulfilling themselves as individuals and meeting the
needs and desires of others and the community as a whole (Kreisberg,
1992). The challenge I see is that of attempting to develop an
ethic of caring from within relations of power.

The organization and leadership in place is so ingrained in our
institutions, including schools, that even when people want to
change, it is difficult for them to do so for they continue to
envision and measure all changes by the known structure. The
struggle to implement site-based management at Division is a good
example of a staff working toward building community, but choosing
methods that actually perpetuated and increased the bureaucratic
organization already in place. By creating the steering committee
and the fishbowl meetings, the staff and administration intended to
remove decision making from solely the principal's purview. Mattie,
. however, retained primary decision-making authority and new layers
of bureaucracy--in this case, the steering committee and fishbowl

meetings--were created.

273

There were several reasons for that happening. Site-based
decision making was a change in organizational structure for
Division; the district office, however, continued functioning as it
always had. There were no changes in organizational protocol
between the school site and between the district to accommodate
changes in structure at the school level. The central
administrators continued to communicate with Mattie about issues
related to school and district policy, budgeting, and
accountability, and to hold her responsible for the management of
the school.

Mattie's role was ambiguous, at best. She was charged with
'leading' Division to become a site-based managed school with all
staff, including support staff, sharing in the decision making that
affected the school. Yet, in the eyes of the district, she, alone,
was responsible for the successful operation of the school. She
knew her role as leader would be different in a site-based managed
school, but she did not know how it would change and no one from the
central office availed himself to explore that issue with her. Her
models were those of top-down authority encouraging her to work with
staff to decide school policies, but to shoulder the responsibility
for whatever decisions were made. Consequently, Mattie vacillated,
offering to share decision making, but, essentially, determining
when that would occur.

Teachers, too, had difficulty understanding their roles in a
structure that purported to build community, bringing people

together rather than forcing them apart. They continued to view

 

274

reform efforts to move Division toward trust, connection, and
community through a lens of bureaucratic rules and regulations, and
from the perspective of a hierarchical organization. That was most
evident when they continued to allow the principal's explicit
support, rather than the school-wide SBM process, to govern whether
or not a proposed project or activity--the ninth grade team concept,
for example-~would move forward.

The teachers wavered in their thoughts about shared decision
making, leadership, and self-governance. Despite the faculty's
choosing a member of their own to work with the administrators to
develop a collaborative model of organization, SBM, few members
actually supported her, and several worked to denigrate her efforts
at collaboration. Teachers talked about the need to build trust, to
cooperate, and to develop a caring atmosphere at Division, but they
chose means--working independently, failing to trust that their
colleagues' intentions were honorable for the individual as well as
the collective--by which to maintain the current system and climate.

Some teachers felt the administration from central office and
the building was simply pandering to their calls for empowerment,
placating them by allowing them limited leadership and decision
making opportunities; others did not trust their unionist peers any
more than they trusted the administrators. Although many teachers
strongly evidenced a desire to change the organizational structure
to one that was less bureaucratic and hierarchical, they were unable
to imagine a structure in which they collaborated among themselves

and with the administrators. Therefore, they limited themselves in

275

the efforts they made to work toward understanding and defining
collaboration at Division.

Each change the staff considered they viewed through the
bureaucratic model; each problem they encountered, they tried to
solve using the tools of bureaucracy--more committees, more
authority, more control. Seemingly, the more Mattie and the
teachers attempted to flatten the hierarchy, the more restraints,
emanating from both administrators and faculty members, evolved.
They faced difficulty constructing caring relationships for the
collective, that is, for the whole staff and for groups within the
staff (for example, ninth grade team, academy developers, and
steering committee), as they continued to work within the

well-established power relations.

Cnting-Power; individual Effott

Caring relations were more easily formed, however, when caring
consisted of relations between individuals. Consider Mattie's
ministering to individual faculty and staff members who experienced
personal crises. On a personal level she listened, attempted to
"apprehend the others' reality” (Noddings, 1984), and offered care
appropriate to the individual. A web of relationships developed as
she extended her caring to others who, in return, accepted her
caring. Some, in turn, offered care to others, students and
colleagues.

When the issue of caring was not political, that is, when

caring did not involve changes affecting the established

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bureaucratic organization, caring relationships were accepted and
encouraged.. Consider Mattie's development of grief counseling. She
received little, if any, opposition from faculty, other staff
members, or other administrators. She also did not require everyone
to participate. Staff members volunteered to work with the students
or faculty who needed their help; the expectation to care for the
majority of the faculty was limited to allowing students to attend
grief counseling sessions.

In the instances of caring for individuals, caring did not
impact power relations. The acts of caring done at a personal.
rather than collective level did not require the collective staff to
act within an ethic of caring. Although Mattie asked some faculty
members to extend caring to those in personal crisis, they could
choose to follow through or not. In the case of grief counseling,
the program functioned sufficiently within the power structure to
allow those who did not choose to be care-givers to abide by
regulations set up for the program. Since the program required
little of staff members, compliance was not difficult, even for
those who may not have totally supported the idea of such
counseling; staff did not experience coercion.

The conundrum of caring-power is quite apparent in the issue of
grief counseling. One could say Mattie used her power-~her
authority and control--to institute a program based on an ethic of
caring. By embedding it in the-power structure, but not disturbing
the power relations, Mattie received support for the program. One

could debate, however, whether the teachers acted from the

277

perspective of an ethic of caring or from that of bureaucratic

principles, that is, compliance with rules.

Cnting-Pgwgt; A Collective Effort

Before I continue, it is necessary to explore the issues of a
an ethic of caring as a collective issue and as an individual issue.
Recall in Chapter Three I noted that a primary concern among
feminist thinkers is that an ethic of care is too often viewed as a
female ethic. Connected with that notion is the issue of private/
public. Women are expected to be care-givers in the home,
sacrificing themselves for their families. Feminist concerns arise
from the transference of that sacrificial caring from the private
domain to the public“ As long as women are willing to shoulder the
efforts required to care in the public sphere, caring is encouraged
and supported.

A collective effort, presuming an integration of males into
‘caring work, receives little support. Recall the response to the
Family Leave Act. Consider also Ghiloni's (1987) study of women in
corporations, hired for their expert interpersonal skills to manage
personnel and public relations departments, yet whose work was seen
as significantly less important than that of making aggressive
business deals. As long as Mattie confined caring to her own
efforts, or to efforts involving volunteers, most of whom were
women, she received tacit approval from the staff.

Caring as a collective effort proves much more difficult, for

as a collective it becomes a politics of caring. The presumption of

278

educational reformers and feminist writers is that caring as a basis
for organization will involve males as well as females. That
understanding, then, must lead to the acknowledgment that school
organization founded on an ethic of caring impacts power relations,
for the responsibility of caring no longer is solely female and
confined to the private domain, but becomes shared among all,
regardless of gender. The impact of caring on power relations is
the recognition of a need to reconceptualize power 1) as a response
to the private (women's caring work) becoming an integral part of
the public sphere (men's task accomplishment); 2) as valuing of
caring commensurate with that of doing; and 3) and as focusing on
the continua rather than the dichotomies that traditionally polarize
men and women. An ethic of caring is a politics of caring
purposefully disturbing the web of power relations.

Reconceptualizing power relations will require addressing the
dichotomies set up by the notion of caring as female. Such a
notion, in essence, distances women and minorities from men by
polarizing characteristics associated with them: private/public,
connection/separation, relation/autonomy, community/individual,
particular/universal, and caring/power. Implied within the
dichotomies is a judgment: elements associated with males are valued
and those with females are of lesser or no value. Polarization
maintains the web of power relationships, keeping those in power
separate from those who are powerless.

Burbules (1986) stated that power relations change those who

occupy them, restricting their autonomy, and narrowing their

279

horizons. Teachers attempting to work collaboratively with peers on
student academies faced attitudes of distrust, as others preferred
to maintain their autonomy in the classroom and separation from the
rest of the faculty. Having no model for 'school as a caring
community', and coming from experiences that continually reinforced
their positions in the hierarchy and the values associated with
bureaucracy, teachers talked about community and cooperation but
strived to gain more independence and autonomy, and the power that
they hoped would come to them through SBM.

Ironically, they restricted their autonomy by continuing to
view changes that could lead to a greater degree of self-governance
and independence through traditional bureaucratic relations. With
each change proposed that would open the door to freedom, they
responded with distrust and cynicism, and within the limitations
they were accustomed to fighting. They worked hard to develop a
program to ensure greater safety in the building by requiring all
students and staff to wear I.D. badges. But, the faculty was
unwilling to shoulder the responsibility for carrying it out. I
think that occurred for several reasons. The faculty did not trust
the administrators to allow them to take responsibility for the
program; they were unsure about how to carry out the program and,
therefore, it was easier to fall back on the bureaucratic tradition
of ”it's the administrators' duty” to see that policy is enforced;
and they did not know how to work within the ambiguity of a new way
of functioning, that is, they did not know how to work with the

administrators to determine how to use the power they potentially

 

 

280

had through SBM. Their action--or inaction-~resulted in Mattie's
insistence that they make the program functional; the teachers felt
coerced to complete a program they had originally suggested.

The teachers did not/could not trust their peers, were unable
to cooperate and collaborate among themselves, or resisted joining
together to support those whom they elected to leadership
positions.4

Faculty narrowed their horizons when they continued their
pattern of viewing the principal as an adversary. Rather than give
Mattie a fair chance to prove herself, they fell back into their web

of power relations when miracles had not occurred within a few

 

4Foucault (1979) discusses the exercise of power as control
through Bentham's imaginary architectural figures, the Panopticon.
The function of the building was to "induce in the inmate a state of
conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic
functioning of the power" (p. 201); that is, to put those inside
under the allusion of continual surveillance so that, ultimately,
those who are under surveillance will monitor themselves. ”.

This architectural apparatus should be a machine for creating and
sustaining a power relation independent of the person who exercises
it; in short, that the inmates should be caught up in a power
situation of which they are themselves the bearers" (p. 201).

As I listened to and observed the staff at Division, I was
impressed with the degree to which they had maintained the
bureaucratic hierarchy and the control it has over them.
Dissatisfied with their situations and presented with opportunities
for change, they were unable to free themselves to think differently
which, in large part, included trusting one another, trusting that
their peers were not part of the "surveillance." Foucault stated
that Bentham "laid down the principle that power should be visible
and unverifiable. Visible: the inmate will constantly have before
his eyes the tall outlines of the central tower from which he is
spied upon. Unverifiable: the inmate must never know whether he is
being looked at any one moment; but he must be sure that he may
always be so" (p. 201). Mattie was the visible power. But the
teachers did not trust the working relationship between Mattie and
the SC chairperson. Did they fear she was part of the invisible
power that "spied" on them?

281

months of her arrival as principal. By November, teachers were
complaining that Mattie had failed them, that she had not made
changes, although many teachers found it difficult to define what
they meant by change.

They expected care from Mattie, but had a difficult time caring
for her. She needed them to understand the ambiguity of her
position and that she--and they--needed time to accomplish goals to

improve Division. Had they simply supported the SC chair, Mattie

 

would have felt their support in exploring SBM together. Instead,
they chose to criticize her for not leading and to find reasons
detailing why they could not. They narrowed their horizons, for
they were unable to see beyond the past to a relationship with
administrators that was cooperative and not adversarial.

Mattie's involvement in power relations illustrates the
tensions between individual fulfillment (being a 'successful'
administrator in the traditional sense) and meeting the needs of the
faculty. She initially’planned--and began--to converse individually
with all faculty and staff, visit their classrooms, be in the halls,
and be in the office to greet staff as they came in mornings---all
because she wanted them to know she cared. Within a few months,
staff complained because she was becoming less and less available.
She was out of the building at district meetings; her office door
was closed most of the day, presumably because she had conferences;
teachers had to make appointments to talk with her.

i It would be easy to say that she was overly ambitious in her

initial thoughts about the ways she would handle her job. That is,

 

282

she did not realize how much was expected of her by the district in
terms of meetings and other out-of-building obligations. On the
other hand, perhaps she was caught in bureaucratic expectations. If
she wanted to achieve success--recognition, promotion--in the
organization, she needed to meet the expectations of those who had
power over her.

She had wanted to be a principal for years. She worked her way
"up" through the ”system." She had studied the system and knew how
it worked. Now, although I believe she really wanted to build trust
and community at Division, she chose to abide by the rules, informal
as well as formal, of the bureaucracy. She would work to create
harmony, to build trust among teachers and administrators, and to
collaborate, but those changes would have to fit within the
established hierarchy. She would not make changes that threatened
her position, nor would she challenge her bosses' individual or
collective wisdom.

As an example, she wanted to decrease the number of students
who were suspended from school, yet she did not work with the
teachers to implement an in-school suspension program. She would
not risk opposing the mandate of no budget increases in order to
negotiate with the superintendent to find a way-~perhaps some
dollars--to at least pilot a program that she and many teachers
believed was critical to improving students' educational
opportunities. She would not use the potential power she had as the
first woman--and the first black woman--to put pressure on the

superintendent to show more than verbal support of Division's

283

efforts to create a caring environment.5 One would almost say that
Mattie was more concerned about maintaining the power relations as
an end in themselves.

Division staff struggled with the dichotomies of individualism/
autonomy/separation and connection/relation/community. As a
collective--a faculty, an administration, and a total staff—~people
at Division had a difficult time working together; they seemed to
fear connection for it might bring loss of autonomy; they balked at
community because they did not trust their peers or those at other
levels of the traditional hierarchy. As a collective, giving and
receiving care proved troublesome, for that demanded everyone's
willingness to work together, not just isolated individuals disposed

to this approach.

a d owe ' e oca
The conundrum posed by caring and power increases in complexity
as we realize both require a reciprocal relationship and are
affected through the relationship. Noddings describes the
reciprocal relationship of caring as one in which the care-giver
understands the needs of the care-receiver and responds in a way to

aid the other to achieve his/her goals. The care-receiver, in turn,

 

5Ironically, a faculty member stated that Mattie was given
”free rein" by the superintendent to spend money, money that was not
accessible to other administrators in the district, to refurbish
Division. That would be in line with the notion of caring as a
female ethic--Mattie was capable of beautifying the school, but not
of ”doing"--implementing a critical program for students.

284

acknowledges the receipt of the care offered. Each is affected and
enhanced by the other.

Power as reciprocal is similar. Unless it is purely domination
through which all social relationships are destroyed, power "seek[s]
to maintain at least a surface legitimacy to the relation itself"
(Burbules, 1986, p. 100). Tension between compliance and resistance
is necessary in order to maintain power relationships. The
alternatives of the person with power are constrained by working to
maintain the relation; and the one with power must allow for a range
of autonomy, including some resistance, to maintain the involvement
of the person with less power. Without the tension between
compliance and resistance, there would be either consent, involving
no conflict and, therefore, no power relation; or domination,
through which all social relations are destroyed. Those with power,
then, affect and are affected by those with less or without power.
Mary Parker Follett (1942) describes the relationship in terms of a
tennis match:

A serves. The way B returns the ball depends

partly on the way it was served to him. A's next play

will depend on his own original serve plus the return

of B, and so on and so on. . . . A genuine interweaving

and interpentrating by changing both sides creates new

situations. (Follett, quoted in Kreisburg, 1992, p.

1:)Follett's description of power, one can see its synergistic
quality, a power that has potential for caring which frees and
enables persons, affording them the capacity to implement (Baker

Miller, 1976). Combined with caring, power has the potential to

become a “blossoming experience" (Follett, 1942, p. 111).. The story

 

285

of the math department, its chairperson and senior members,
illustrates this well.

The math teachers appeared to have achieved a semblance of
caring power within their department. They met regularly to discuss
their classes; to help 'rookies' new to teaching and to the
department; and to discuss, negotiate, and come to consensus about
the curriculum and standards. Unlike most of the other departments,
the math teachers met not only formally as a group, but informally
each morning prior to school in order to chat and to discuss any
issues that concerned them individually or as a whole. Mornings
were also a time to just 'keep in touch' on a personal level.
Fridays they met for drinks at a local pub to recap the week and
unwind. A math teacher described the department as ”our own little
family. We're a close-knit and strong department. We have to be in
order to survive" [SQ:5-18-92:2].

This "little family” did not just happen, but was consciously
fostered by the chairperson and by the senior members of the
department. There was an unspoken agreement that they would "talk
back and forth to know what and how each other is teaching,"
[SQ:5-18-92z2] in order to maintain common and agreed-upon
standards, and to support each other through the waves of criticism
from other departments, staff members, and administrators who
thought the standards were too high.

I can't speak for other [departments], but I can

for this one. If we come to a consensus, then we will

abide by what we've decided. The whole department will

work as a unit. We decided two years ago that it was

time to hold these kids responsible for accomplishing
something before we gave them a passing grade in

286

mathematics. And though we have received a great deal
of flak because our failure rate is so high, we've
still held the line and said if they don't do it, they
don't deserve to pass. [Qle-29-92z2]

They shared the belief that math is sequential and, therefore,
each of them must maintain the standards set so that the students
are prepared for the next class. If a teacher received students who
were not prepared for his/her class, s/he looked up the math teacher
who had them the previous semester and demanded to know why the
students were passed to the next level. Yet, that was not seen as
misuse of power, but as a "set of checks and balances"
[SQ:5-18-92z2] to maintain the integrity of the math department.

The following conversation between a veteran math teacher and a less
experienced, relative newcomer to Division illustrates that shared
understanding and camaraderie.

This is the way we keep tabs on ourselves and help
each other if there are problems. Most of us are
comfortable enough to talk about our problems, but
sometimes the new people aren't. Take , for
instance. The first semester he was here he let the
administration get to him. He passed kids he shouldn't
have. And when some of us got his kids second semester
and they couldn't pass the first test which was review,
we were kinda tough on him. But, we straightened him
out.” (laughing) [SQ:S-18-92z2]

They [the senior math teachers] were really rough
on me my second semester. I had been told by the
administration that I shouldn't hold kids to the
standards the math department set up. I mean if a kid
didn't cause any problems and came to class every day I
should pass him. Well [the chairperson] sat me down
and explained to me what the math department expected.
I didn't lower my standards initially, but just gave
more extra credit so they'd pass, even though they
failed the tests. Well these guys [the senior math
teachers] got my kids [second semester] and they
couldn't do the work. [The chairperson] and

really got on my case, but they helped me think
through how to teach so students would pass the tests.

287

And they also convinced me I wasn't doing a student a

favor by letting him pass when he really couldn't do

the work---even if the administration wanted me to do

that. The people in this department stood behind me

when I legitimately failed more students that next

semester. [TE:5-l8-92:3,4]

That teacher indicated he felt that people in his department
cared about one another and would "stick their necks out" for each
other. His perception was that he was initiated into the norms and
values of the department and, like the rest of the members, agreed
with them. Caring occurred through the support given and received
by each other to maintain the consensus within the department. In
Noddings' terms, the department worked at a reciprocal relationship
among its members.

Department members looked to the chairperson to care for them,
also. One teacher commented that the chairperson ”tries to match
courses and interests so we get at least some of the things we want
to teach” [TE:5-18-92:3]. Asked to expand, he said the chair asked
the math teachers their teaching preferences, which she seriously
considered when making out the schedule for the deputy principal.

In other words, teachers new to the staff were not 'stuck' with all
the classes those with more seniority did not want. Another teacher
said the chairperson would ”really go to bat” [SQ:5-18-92z3] for the
math faculty, doing all that was possible to support the individual
teachers and the department as a whole. On several occasions I
heard the chairperson sharing information informally with other math

teachers; I saw senior teachers working with newer math teachers;

and I observed one math teacher asking another for help with

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particular students or with a new method or concept s/he was
teaching. [fn:l-27-92; 1-30-92; 2-6-92; 3-30-92]

Caring occurred also through the expansion of the professional
to the personal, that is, through social activities each person grew
to know others as individual personalities. They made an effort to
learn to work with each other as individuals and as part of a
collective (department). No one person was solely the one-caring or
the one-cared for, but the roles seemed to shift as needed. I
believe reciprocity occurred because the teachers were willing to be
care-givers and care-receivers.

0n the other hand, the department members looked to the
chairperson, because of the legitimacy of her authority through her
position in the bureaucratic hierarchy, to care for them as members
of a collective. They looked to her to do what was best for them as
a whole, to put their interests as a department above those of the
bureaucracy of the school and even of the math hierarchy within the
district. Reciprocity occurred as they worked together to come to
consensus regarding what they all could and would support; the staff
supported the department head in the interactions and relationships
in which she represented them.

Power was not absent from the act of caring. As the young
teacher noted, the senior teachers gave him a ”rough time” until he
complied with the established norms of the department. He indicated
that he agreed with the norms, but had a difficult time enacting
them because of the "pressure some of the administrators put on me"

[TE:5-18-92z2]. He explained that by “rough” he meant that the

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senior teachers kept asking him to justify his reasons for passing
students who could not do the work; they also helped him re-think
how he taught. 'Power' in that instance supported him and brought
him into the community of the department.

The chair also exerted power when she planned the schedule.

She gave preference to senior faculty in terms of their having upper
level classes. However, she ensured that the less experienced
teachers had opportunities to teach classes they wanted by rotating
some of the upper level classes.

She used her power as a chairperson as an entree to mentor new
faculty members. She talked to them about their teaching,
suggesting methods and ways of thinking that might help them
improve. At the same time, she provided an opportunity for
discussion in a non-threatening way. The chair was respected by the
others in the department. Because of that, she was able to use her
power as chair to diffuse disagreements among staff and to encourage
them to 'talk it out.’ The math department was not perfect, but it
did seem to reflect not only an ethic of caring, but a power
necessary to work within that ethic.

Power, on the other hand, has the capacity to use the
reciprocal relationship to restrain and to maintain the advantage of
one person or group over another. Mattie's relationship with her
deputy principal and assistant principals was a maintenance of power
over. Like Mattie's allegiance to her superiors in the central
office, the deputy principal and the assistant principals checked

with Mattie before they made virtually any decision. The assistant

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principals looked to her for mentorship and guidance, seeing her
power as helping them move up the hierarchical ladder.

Her relationship with the deputy principal, however, exhibited
strong control and maintenance of her power position. Although she
could offer concern for him on a personal level, as during the
aftermath of a student's violent death, she was not as sensitive to
him professionally. The relationship with him was such that, unlike
the assistant principals, he was uncomfortable asking her for help;
he did not see her as a mentor, but as his superior, one who had
power over him. Among his biggest frustrations was Mattie's
unavailability to him. He mentioned that he had questions he wanted
to ask her, but she was so often in meetings and didn't want to be
disturbed. By the time she was free, he was on cafeteria duty.

When he was free to seek her out, ”she's got her coat and hat on and
is on her way out of the building. Then I have to wait 'til the next
day and it's the same thing all over again” [Kle-29-92].

She offered help in general, but failed to provide it when he
specifically needed it, allowing him to struggle and, perhaps, even
fail. As he agonized over--”I'm clawin' and stretchin,"--the master
schedule, a task he had never done, she offered no help and he would
not ask her for any. Asked if or who gave him help, he mentioned a
counselor at another high school. He did say, "But, Mrs. Johnson
told me she was available.” I asked him what that meant. He gave a
startled response, sat back in his chair, grinned at me, and was

very quiet. Then, "I guess, available.”

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He discussed his frustration with the isolation he felt as he
worked on the schedule with no guidance. He emphasized how
stressful the time was. At one point, he puzzled about why Mrs.
Johnson did not help him, for he was confident she saw his stress.
He said he tried to see the positive, that she believed that if he
learned on his own, he would really learn. He reiterated that she
told him she was available, but never actually offered her
assistance to him. Because he did make many mistakes on the master
schedule, he lost credibility and trust among the teachers. Mattie's
allowing him to flounder kept him strongly under her control.

Mattie's actions toward the deputy and assistant principals
illustrate uses of power as reciprocal relations that were both
oppressive and caring. The assistant principals went to her for
help and received it. They felt nurtured and mentored; both
indicated that Mattie was responsible for their being in their
current positions and was assisting them to develop the skills to
become higher level administrators. They trusted her, and she
entrusted them with more responsibilities.

The deputy, however, had a difficult relationship with Mattie.
He did not view her as his mentor, preferring to avoid asking her
for help. The less time she made for him, the less he tried to
confer with her. Their relationship became one of unspoken
resistance and compliance. Mattie knew how much pressure she could
exert--through silence or explicit requests--and the deputy knew how

much he could resist in order to retain power over the degree of

compliance he would give.

 

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Ca n and Power' Contextual

As we reflect on the concepts of caring and power, we see the
complexity of the relationships. Neither caring nor power is
unaffected by the other. Are the relationships care or power?
oppressive or capacity building? The story of the ninth grade team
provides a basis from which to further explore the connection.

Marty believed the ninth grade team concept had much to offer
students: an orientation into high school life; an opportunity for
bonding with a group of peers and with four teachers; an immediate
sense of belonging to a smaller community within the larger school;
a strong academic program where all four subject area teachers
worked together; and the potential for retaining a higher percentage
of students through graduation. She could not understand Mattie's
standing in the way of a program that could have immediate effects
for students. From Marty's perspective, Mattie did not care about
teachers or students; she did not understand the important issues.
Marty saw Mattie acting out of a desire to control teachers by not
overtly supporting the ninth grade team. Marty, however, cared, for
she understood what was important to students and teachers.

Mattie viewed the ninth grade team situation differently. She
viewed herself as using her power to protect Division from outside
sources who were attempting to influence, through the offers of
money and other resources, the future goals of Division; Mattie
believed the teachers and staff should decide without the

pressures--and temptations--of money. If the outsiders could

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support Division's staff's goals, then their help would be welcomed.
Mattie believed she used her power to care for the school.

Caring and power are contextual; they are situated within the
frameworks from which one works. Marty viewed the situation from
the point of view of the merits of the program per se, and how it
would benefit students. Mattie saw the program from a perspective
that not only included students and teachers, but outsiders and
future goals. In the instance of the ninth grade team, there is
little doubt that Marty and Mattie would come to agreement whether
Mattie's response was caring or controlling, for there was a basic
conflict of interests between them. Marty saw the situation from the
classroom perspective, Mattie, from a school-wide one. Rather than
seeing the ways in which their interests intersected, the two
individuals remained separate. Could they have reached a point of
true intersection, where caring and power flowed together, there
would have been the opportunity for cooperation and collaboration.
The context, rather than being the "big" or ”small” picture, would
have been the intersection, creating, perhaps, something better than
each had imagined. To paraphrase Mary Parker Follett, it could have
been care-power as the blossoming of experience.

Bearing in mind the importance of a school's historical context
is critical to an interpretation of care and power. Teachers who
taught through the desegregation period view caring and power, in
part, from the context of their experience. That context is fraught
with multiple, often unresolved, feelings and tensions concerning

racial attitudes and biases which affect not only those who were a

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part of the desegregation process, but others who did not have those
experiences. As much as people do not want to deal with those
feelings--do not even want to believe they exist-~they affect the
caring and power--the webs of relations, the reciprocity, and the
interpretations of caring/power—-that occurs within the school.
Other aspects of a school's history, such as a large proportion of
senior teachers or the school's historical reputation affect the
interpretation of caring and power. Clearly delineating caring
from power is difficult, at best. Both are affected independently
by reciprocal relationships and affect each other reciprocally; and
are interpreted contextually as care, power, or care/power. However,
there is, yet, another consideration: is there general agreement
among educators or within the larger society concerning the

understanding of what constitutes caring and power?

Ca a d ower' ocia Co d

Different cultures, different peoples, understand and construe
caring and power in ways the hegemonic culture does not. Women of
color, particularly, have noted that the discussion and debate about
an ethic of caring have centered around the dichotomy of female/male
issues and characteristics. Those women call to our attention that
an ethic of caring, like feminist theory, generally, represents only
one view, that of white middle class women. Eugene (1989) and Lykes
(1989) detail differences in the interpretation of caring and power
that are necessary in any discussion of an ethic of caring as a

basis for schooling.

 

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Much of the reform literature in recent years focuses on urban
schools with large non-European populations and the necessity for
policymakers, administrators, and teachers to better understand the
students who attend them. To say that reformers imply the
implementation of an ethic of caring would be, I believe, a
reasonable assumption. However, there is an implicit understanding
that the same interpretation of what caring and power is holds true
for everyone. That is not true.

Part of the difficulty Mattie faced was a lack of understanding
from the white teachers of the background and culture Mattie
represented. White teachers criticized her for the effort she put
forth with community members, for her continued referral to
religion, and for the power she, at times, unabashedly used to
further the school's interests.

To refer to Eugene's and Lykes' discussions, Mattie might be
called a ”Mother” in the black community of Newtown, for she was
highly respected and influential. She gained her respect by being
demanding of herself, students, and faculty; she expected
one-hundred percent effort and dedication to education and to living
a respectable life. For her, Division's improvement was dependent on
community interest and support; and, in turn, the community would
improve with the success of Division's students. Mattie believed

the community was interested in Division and that she had to let

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them know she was interested in them; the connection between school
and community existed, but it was up to her to strengthen it.6

Several white teachers were critical of her for spending the
time with parents, pastors, and other community members. They
resented her taking time away from faculty in order to confer and
visit with community members. Their understanding of caring focused
on Division, ntt_tt and the community within Division.

Mattie's religion was her life. I used the word ”ministering”
in Chapter Five to partially describe Mattie's relationship to
teachers and students. She saw her work as ministering, as
shepherding students, faculty and community members not only in
terms of schooling, but in terms of life. She believed it was her
duty as a Christian to care for people because God gave her that
ability as a ”gift" and that she was "called” to her current
position to lead her community.

Her position was misunderstood by many teachers, especially
white teachers, at Division. One teacher talked about her being in
the 'black-Christian-Bible-toting" [BKz2-92] group of administrators
who stuck together and pushed one another ”up." Another referred to

a conference which Mattie ended saying they needed to pray about the

 

6In the fall of her initial year as principal, Mattie invited
me to a dinner given in her honor by friends and family to celebrate
her appointment as the first female high school principal in
Newtown. Former students and friends spoke briefly about her. With
an exception, they all talked about the high expectations she held
for them and for herself; her strong belief in God and how that
governed her life; and her caring for them. One person specifically
talked about the community's looking to Mattie for leadership to
help her people work toward success. [fn:9-14-92]

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matter. The teacher's response was that was not a viable answer.
Those teachers appeared to interpret Mattie's reference to religion
as using it as a powerful connection in the bureaucracy and as an
excuse when she did not have answers to their problems.

Religion is a powerful influence on women in black culture.
Eugene described the relation of black women to religions as one
involving endurance, resistance, and resiliency in the face of
attempts of personal and institutional domination. Mattie, in her
many conversations with me, referred to the difficult times in her
personal and professional lives where she has relied on her faith to
move her forward. She approached the job of principal with that
same attitude. Her faith would move her forward in her calling to
minister to her people. And, she would use her power to make the
move forward possible.

Caring and power are socially constructed. A culture's history
influences the way its people understand and interpret those
constructs. In the case of Division, black history--slavery, the
strength of black women as household heads as a result of slavery
(Davis, 1983) --influences Mattie and, in turn, the staff. For
caring and power to be understood in full, a recognition of the
impact of cultural differences is essential.

We now approach what I consider to be the critical question:
who decides what is caring or power and whether it is in a person's

or group's best interests?

 

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AN ETHIC OF CARING--or--POWER THAT OPPRESSES?

In order to establish caring, can power be used to invoke
compliance which is in the 'victim's' best interests? To address the
question, we may ask: Do we accept at face value what the persons
believe to be in their best interests and, therefore, care for them
by accepting as best what they have identified, or do we attempt to
ascertain independently what their interests are, whether they
recognize them or not? Are those acts of power or of caring?
Furthermore, how do we determine the best interests of the group or
the whole collective, when, as in the case of Division, consensus is
rare among the group members?

Although there is no one answer, there are ways by which to
take responsible action. Burbules (1989) advocates the practice of
Socratic dialogue, even if the dialogue is only with oneself. Such
a dialogic would involve asking the others what they believe their
interests are, questioning them about those interests, posing
alternatives that we see, and indicating inconsistencies or
ambiguities in their versions. Noddings (1984) and Grimshaw (1986)
would call that exercise being reflective. By following such a
"contextual process" (Burbules, 1989, p. 99), one would more likely
avoid decisions that are authoritarian and would guard against those
based on ”credulous subjectivism and presumptuous objectivism” (p.
99).

Noddings (1984; 1992) suggests another contextual process to
enact caring: modeling, dialogue, practice, and confirmation. At

Division, when persons did model caring, it often went unnoticed for

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there was virtually no dialogue to discuss caring, a lack of
recognition regarding what one should practice, and no confirmation
that what one did was acceptable and linked to a caring intent.

We also need to think differently about power. Power for
itself is oppression. But as we've seen, power connected with an
ethic of caring provides a "capacity to implement" (Baker Miller,
1976) or a "blossoming experience (Parker Follett, 1942).
Care-power can be more than either caring or power. Noblit (1993)
noted in his study of an elementary classroom that power can be used E
to confirm others. Such confirmation moves one toward a better
vision of him/herself (Noddings, 1984, 1992). It is recognizing a
person's potentialities in more than the abstract; it is seeking out
and valuing their accomplishments (Hawkins, 1974).

To return to the questions at the beginning of this section, I
believe it is evident that for one person to determine what is best
for another without thoughtful dialogue, preferably with the other
or a third person, is irresponsible. Recognizing that caring and
power are intertwined underscores the critical responsibility one
has to address all aspects of the interest before coming to a‘
decision that potentially could oppress another.

Noddings suggestions of modeling, dialogue, practice and
confirmation have merit to help determine what is best for all.
However, as with any process, there is the danger that it will
become a "recipe," steps that people perform with little or no
thought. The outcome, the decision, is justified because the

process was followed.

 

 

 

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The focus of caring/power requires the thoughtful and
collaborative efforts of all persons involved. It is not a process
to be hurried, nor one to be duplicated for masses of people to
follow verbatim. To use care/power responsibly will take time and
cultivation.

In the final chapter, I discuss my thoughts about the
implications of care/power for education--organization, leadership,

teaching, and research.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CARE/POWER: QUAGMIRE?

You will say that to fight against somebody may be
terrible, but to fight for something is noble and
beautiful. . . . The fight for is always connected with
the fight against, and the preposition ”for” is always
forgotten in the course of the fight in favor of the
preposition "against.”

Milan Kundera

M112:

In a world fraught with violence, anguish, hatred, and
disregard for human life, to pursue an ethic of caring seems almost
mandatory. Schools, traditionally looked upon as change agents of
society, would, then, be logical places in which to develop an ethic
of caring. Teachers and administrators would dialogue with each
other to determine their respective needs; they would model and
practice caring; and they would confirm each other as valued and
worthwhile human beings. Knowing how to care and be cared for,
teachers and administrators would have the skill and expertise to
care for students who, in turn, would learn to dialogue with them
and other students, and would model caring and confirm one another.
Educators and students, then, would become the change agents for

society, transforming their families and others so that the whole of

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. our society would live with an ethic of caring as the core of our
beings. Would that reform would be so straightforward!

As so many past and current school reforms, the ideal,
development, and goals of an ethic of caring are reasonable and
laudatory. The reality, however, involves a much more complex
scenario. An ethic of caring would be embedded within a power
structure that depends on rules, regulations, hierarchy, justice,
and ultimately control. It would not be conceived and carried out
in virgin territory. In many school settings, it would be embedded
in individual and group historical contexts that are often filled
with pain, distrust, disillusionment, and even fear. It would not
be embraced without reservation, skepticism, or cynicism; it might
well be seen as another means of an individual or group manipulating
the power structure to maintain or gain more control over others.

An ethic of caring as posited by white middle-class women only
partially speaks to the interpretation of caring as understood by
persons of other cultures and races. Subsequently, such an ethic
might stand to alienate more than connect, for those cultures other
than European might choose to resist yet another attempt of 'power
over' to mold them into the 'white' image of the 'good' citizen. In
all cases, caring is viewed within the context of power. The
question becomes: how do we understand caring in relation to power?
And further, how can we experience power in ways that result in
caring?

This study persuades me that to discuss an ethic of caring

without considering the influence of power relations is impossible.

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I believe caring and power intertwine, intersect, and influence the
ways in which each is interpreted and carried out. But simply
acknowledging a relationship is not enough. The next step is to
think about the ways in which caring and power relate, that is, why
do some intersections result in positive relations and other in
negative ones? In order to address that question, four areas of
caring need further exploration: individual and collective caring;
caring as a female ethic; who will care and to what degree; and

caring as multiply interpreted.

RESEARCH ISSUES

INDIVIDUAL AND COLLECTIVE CARING

Virtually all discussions and examinations of caring are from
the perspective of caring at an individual level, that is, one
person caring for another. If schools are to be viewed as caring
places, is caring among individuals enough, or would a caring school
necessitate caring in a larger sense, as a collective? From the
current study, I would suggest that for a school to be a caring
place would require trust among individuals and groups, constructing
and sharing knowledge within and among groups, recognizing the
personal and institutional histories that affect people's ability to
care, and accepting the notion of multiple understandings and
interpretations of caring. Further research needs to be based on
these questions: what degree of trust can realistically be

established in a large institution? what unites people? can

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multiple groups and/or individuals have conflicting or contradictory
goals, yet build trust and, ultimately, a caring place?

Depending on one's history, experiences, gender, relationships,
and/or culture, caring is interpreted and experienced differently.
In a caring relationship, one person takes into consideration the
unique make up of the other in order to determine how to care. The
other, in turn, acknowledges the unique qualities of the one-caring
in order to receive her care. Yet, within an individual caring
relationship--one-caring and one-receiving--understanding what is in
the best interests of the other may be difficult; there may be
misapprehensions about what each understands as caring.

How, then, can an ethic of caring function at a group or
collective level, where caring must be broad-based, encompassing the
histories, experiences, gender, relationships, and cultures of many
people? The dissertation suggests this question is paramount to
further research on the implementation of an ethic of caring in
schools, for within the collective reside multiple power relations,
each having the potential to strengthen or limit the development of
caring. Following are questions pertaining to the notion of
collective caring that come out of this study.

What is 'collective caring'? Must all people within the
collective approach one another in a relational, connected manner,
working only for the good of the group/school? Of what importance
is individual growth? How can the current power-structure be
altered to better serve the needs of both individual and collective?

If educators think of 'experiencing' power rather than 'having'

 

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power, might the relationship between caring and power become
clearer? Finally, how can educators think about nurturing in terms
of broad educational policy?

In order to address those questions, I believe that research
efforts must entail a more thorough investigation of current
thinking about the theory of power--power as knowledge, as control,
as oppression, as the capacity to become or to do, and as something
to experience rather than have. Furthermore, research needs more
in-depth study of school organizational structure and culture in
light of the theories and practices of power that enable and/or
deter acts of caring to/from happening. Through the study of theory
and practice, I suggest researchers seek connections between caring
and power--where is power used to limit or support acts of caring;
where is the rhetoric of caring used to alter power to allow for
more caring. I suggest the need to look for the possibilities of
caring and power acting synergistically to create a way of
organization that may be outside our present vision and that we be

open to seeing that which is yet unknown to us.

W

Women discuss the need for caring. The call for reforms in
education to include an ethic of caring, or to reconceptualize
organizational theory to include caring have come primarily,
although not solely, from women. A louder cry, that of empowerment,
has emanated throughout educational reform and organizational

reform. If we examine the characteristics of empowerment, we-will

 

306

find that many of them mirror those of an ethic of caring--sharing,
collaboration, allowing one to do. Much has been written about
power and empowerment by men--and less, by women.

Empowerment continues to carry the notion of power, albeit,
sharing control or authority in a collaborative way, or by providing
opportunities for others to develop or to do. Empowerment, however,
does not reach the depth of relationship that caring does. It
presumes one has power and becomes the benefactor of another or
others by 'giving' power to those with less or without. It presumes
power is a commodity to be given away while implicitly assuming that
the agent of power is better or absolved from the dialectics of
power if s/he has the ability to bestow power.

An ethic of caring presumes relationship, that one sees
situations in relation to others and makes decisions based on one's
positions within relationships. Contrary to empowerment, caring not
only allows for sharing or collaboration in decision making, caring
encourages cognizance of one's position in relationship to others
and consideration of how any decision will affect the relationship.
That is, empowerment emphasizes the act of sharing in decision
making--having power to participate and sharing control--and caring
emphasizes decision making within a framework of maintenance of
relationships.

Caring is as implicitly and explicitly 'female' as power is
'male. To develop schools with an ethic of caring as their basis
would require that caring and power be separated from the concern

with gender. That is, school personnel need to see caring and power

 

307

as gender-neutral concepts that both females and males employ to
establish and maintain caring within schools; females and males will
have to learn to feel comfortable working within the contexts of
both caring and power.

The notion of establishing caring within schools must include
the awareness that it would be embedded in a deeply rooted power
structure. Certainly the problems at Division illustrate this.
Questions that need our attention for continued research might
include the following: Is it possible to be both caring and
empowered? what would that look like? How must the present power
structure change in order for power to become empowerment? How
might an ethic of caring influence the dynamics of empowerment?
Would empowerment be an integral part of caring?

Critical to this research would be a study of females' and
males' attitudes toward power and caring. How do women and men
interpret both concepts? Do they see a relationship between caring
and power? Do they associate more with one than the other? Do
females fear power, and males caring? If so, how can that change?
What is the dialogue between males and females regarding their
perceptions of power and caring? To what degree, if any, do women
and men believe a relationship between caring and power is necessary

to social change?

WHO WILL CARE AND HOW MUCH
Who cares and how much are important considerations for further

research on caring and power. 'Who' is important as it relates to

 

 

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hierarchy. Caring will be embedded in an existent school hierarchy
both within the school and within the district. What will
leadership entail in a school committed to functioninngithin an
ethic of caring? Reflection on Mattie's experiences with attempts to
care within a bureaucratic hierarchy give rise to the following
questions necessary for researchers interested in an ethic of caring
as a school reform measure to consider: What will the role of
principal be, especially in the transition period to an
organizational structure that is more supportive of nurturing and
collaboration? Will the principal 'lead,’ 'facilitate,’ or do both?
How will a principal learn to work within a role that is ambiguous
at the school level, yet carefully delineated at the district level?
How will a leader learn to balance power and caring so that s/he is
able to work with the district organization, yet move/lead the
individual school to develop a different type of organizational
structure?

A most important consideration concerning caring and power in
leadership is that of who decides what is in the best interests of
the group. This became a source of conflict at Division. What
responsibility does the principal have to 'lead' the group to
her/his vision of what is best for the school as one entity? to
'lead'--to use the power of the position--the group to discover its
collective vision? Is the latter possible in a large school with
competing interests and visions?

Finally, how much caring is possible? Within an ethic of

caring I believe it is necessary to care for oneself as well as for

 

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others. Caring for oneself presumes interpretations of selfishness
by other; neglecting to honestly care for oneself may lead to power
struggles. That was evident between Mattie and Division's staff who
saw her efforts to maintain balance in her life as being neglectful
of them; and among various staff members who worked hard to
implement SBM or new programs, only to leave feeling ineffectual and
defeated. How do educators know when they have cared enough or too
much?

Research on leadership requires addressing the question, is it
possible to have leadership without power? If not, what does power

mean in the context of caring?

CARING AS MULTIPLY INTERPRETED

Writings in recent years about caring and an ethic of caring
are mainly those of white middle class women. Although these
writings and discussions provide important thinking about the topic,
educators contemplating the establishment of an ethic of caring
within their schools must recognize that those writings represent
only a dialogue embedded in the perspective of one culture. Caring
in schools with non-European staff and students requires the
latitude to reconceptualize and define caring from the perspectives
of those from other cultures and/or races.

Central to the consideration is the understanding of power
within caring. As discussed earlier, some African American women
view caring as a liberational ethic of caring in which there is no

dichotomy between power and caring. Power is a part of caring,

 

310

enabling the strong to care for those who are weaker or who have no
power. The strong, the Mothers, are acknowledged, if not chosen
outright, by their community members. The Mothers seek power not
for self-aggrandizement, but to better nurture and care for those
depending on them. In many respects, Mattie was seen as a "Mother"
by the African American community. Her efforts to involve the
neighborhood community and her reliance on her faith were not fully
understood by white staff members who saw her only as using power in

the guise of caring.

a]?

Research on caring and power from the perspective on non-
European cultures would enhance thinking about caring and power.
What are the differences between Europeans' and non-Europeans'
conceptions of caring and power? How will those differences
influence the ways in which educators consider establishing an ethic
of caring in schools? the ways in which they assess the 'success'
of an ethic of caring? How might the concept of leadership be
affected by a 'liberational ethic of caring' as opposed to Noddings'
or Gilligans' interpretation of an ethic of caring? Can white middle
class males or females understand power and caring in the way
traditionally oppressed people can? That is, are white males,
especially, and white females, secondarily, capable of using power
to liberate rather than constrain? Will they have the incentive to
make changes? -Will they see the gains to be made using power to
tear down the current barriers to free those who have been

oppressed?

311

Research would entail studies of school leaders of non-European
cultures to observe how they lead; to listen to their thinking about
caring and power and how they view themselves in relation to people
of their culture. Researchers must begin reading about theories of
caring and power from the perspective of non-European cultures and
comparing them to the works dominant educators currently cite.
Through such studies, there is an exciting possibility of moving
toward pluralistic understandings of care and power which might lead

to a more accepting attitude of diverse cultures.

LEADERSHIP AND ORGANIZATION

Educators who decide to incorporate an ethic of caring into
school systems need to consider the organizational structure and
leadership required to support that ethic. Mandating such an ethic
is simply continuing the current bureaucratic tradition; finding a
program, such as site-based management, with elements of an ethic of
caring is not much better. I believe that as educators we must
begin with the premise that an ethic of caring is not just
implementing another program, but is re-thinking values and the ways
in which we make moral judgments. It is a continuous process.

Our current school organization is designed to function with
programs--we have a new idea about teaching and we design a program
for all to use. An ethic of caring is not that. It is responsive
to the people within that school, adapting and changing with the
population. How can we think about designing organizational

structures that function with continuous idea processing and

312

assessment? That do not look for the answer, but acknowledge and
use multiple solutions? that see themselves always in process and
their mission as awareness of change as relations change?

An ethic of caring will occur within established and to-be-
established programs. It will be the thread running through that
determines how people live their lives in community and how they
develop as individuals. An ethic of caring will require
organizational structure and leadership that support thinking as
well as doing. It will demand time which, in turn, will demand
resources, skills, and knowledge. Will a school organization--
students, teachers, administrators, boards of education, and ,
ultimately, the citizenry--be willing to give time to change decades
based on thinking only in terms of competition, autonomy control,
and independence, in order to cultivate thinking in terms of
interdependence, connection, and community? Will time and support
be available to allow interdependence and community to develop along
with the individual the competitive?

I ask the above questions in relation to Division's experiences
with reform. The staff was emotionally exhausted as a result of
past personal and professional histories, including participation in
multiple reform efforts at Division. Faculty wanted immediate
results, but realistically knew that could not happen. They feared
involvement in yet another reform for they believed that, based on
past experiences, they would not be given the time and resources
with which to carry it out. Those experiences and attitudes,

however, are precisely the evidence that should persuade reformers

 

313

of the necessity to allow time, for developing trust, connection,
and community does not occur within prescribed time periods. Caring
is personal, emotional, affective; it cannot be mandated,_but must
be nurtured. As Mattie, recognized, change takes time.

Creation and implementation of an ethic of caring in school
will require leaders who do not have all the answers, who are
willing to struggle with ambiguity, who are willing to make hard
decisions-~to use their power--knowing that at some point, they,
albeit unintentionally, may make a decision that is not in the best E
interest of a; they will need to know how to re-group. These
leaders will worry more about the collective than about themselves,
thus modeling a tenet of caring. They will dialogue, having a good
sense of when to show their weaknesses and when that would be
damaging to themselves or to the group. They will have a vision
clear enough to guide others, while simultaneously working with
others to create the collective vision.

The organizational structure will have to be such that it can
support the leaders in the process of continuous change, from the
first tentative, never-before-taken steps away from the comfortable
structure of bureaucratic hierarchy to the never-ending path of
personal and collective discovery.

I believe that an ethic of caring in schools is not changing
programs; it is changing the way we think about valuing and moral
judgments, and the ways in which we relate to others. Programmatic
changes evolve to accommodate our thinking.. Organizational

structure and leaders will need to recognize and accommodate that.

314

CONCLUSION

The conundrum of caring and power remains just that: an
intricate puzzle. The intricacy and complexity of the puzzle,
however, rests on one's choice of solutions. There will always be
conflicting interests The task is bringing about that which is in
the best interests of the person or group. Functioning within an
ethic of caring involves the use of power. Those who are in a
position to decide for others must always be prepared for their
mistakes, for ”there is no possibility of ever eliminating all
conflict between human needs and desires; the problem is rather how
to identify and eliminate its most damaging and destructive forms"
(Grimshaw, 1986, p. 186).

Caring is not pristine, devoid of all power relations.
Particularly as we consider caring in the context of a collective--
of a school--relationships will involve both caring and power.
There will be mistakes; some people may be hurt. But change--and

freedom--does not come without a price.

Life is trouble. Only death is not. Life is to
undo your belt and look for trouble. . . . A man needs
a little madness or he doesn't cut the rope to be free.

Zorba
”Zorba the Greek”

I.‘

 

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