. H V is” . 6:"an ( . 53...... $0756“ . “H.115! "a” . .A..........i..u. ‘1. ‘ .13.. £3“! 3 n. o. .S.$ 3...: 9.5:}, . .. .3! Viifiv; . 01 _ (lot/5.1.1. 93.53.01».- ¢Ii : .r. . . x... , In. ill): A.) (194...: 1... 1 0.2): iii. :5 > ”at.” I. .. tr. . 14a. 1.: ‘5 v t . . 3 4 II. 1 ‘ ‘ ‘ {rgyvo i . :1 r » .11’::T.I.u=.. . , . . . . . .‘ V ‘ l I inbl»..{2¢i LIBRARY Michigan State University This is to certify that the dissertation entitled ADVOCACY: INTEGRATING THE ETHICS OF CARE AND JUSTICE FOR STUDENTS WITH DISABILITIES presented by Krista Sherman has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for the Ph.D. degree in Educational Administration / Major Professor’s Signature Gail-{er C7, 2607 Date MSU is an affirmative-action, equal-opportunity employer ---n.-.-u-u-n-.----¢--------------.n - PLACE IN RETURN BOX to remove this checkout from your record. TO AVOID FINES return on or before date due. MAY BE RECALLED with earlier due date if requested. DATE DUE DATE DUE DATE DUE 6/07 p:/ClRC/DateDue.indd-p.1 ADVOCACY: INTEGRATING THE ETHICS OF CARE AND JUSTICE FOR STUDENTS WITH DISABILITIES By Krista Sherman A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSPHY Department of Educational Administration 2007 ABSTRACT ADVOCACY: INTEGRATING THE ETHICS OF CARE AND JUSTICE FOR STUDENTS WITH DISABILITIES By Krista Sherman The purpose of this study was to explore practices of three elementary principals in order to better understand how effective caring environments are created, tensions that principals face when leading an inclusive school, how they navigate such tensions, and how advocacy translate into practice. The conceptual theories that guided this study included the ethic of care, the ethic of justice and sensemaking. The theories of care and justice were not considered alternatives of one another, rather they were viewed as an integrated theory, each maintain their own ontology while supporting the other in understanding advocacy for special education. The qualitative methods were descriptive in nature and drew from multiple forms of data collection. They included individual interviews, focus groups and Photovoice, a process that collects images as the participants view them as a reflective tool to probe deeper into the lived experiences of the principals. A comprehensive portrait was written for each principal and the school they serve. Their experiences were connected through pictures and shared tensions. Forms of advocacy, tensions and how principals navigated the tensions arose from the data analysis. A central tenet emerged from the data. Policy and policy enactment favors a “just” system—the common good—for all children. Yet, principals approach it with a caring ethic. This creates a struggle between the ethics of care and justice, but when both ethics are utilized as an integrated ethic, principals act is a just caring manner for all students. There is a need for rigorous preparation for principals, and general education teachers, in regards to students with disabilities so to better facilitate the integration of the ethics of care and justice. Copyright by KRISTA SHERMAN 2007 This dissertation is dedicated to my brother, Mark. I will forever love and miss you. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I extend my heartfelt appreciation to my doctoral committee members—Dr. Maenette Benham, chairperson; Dr. Susan Printy; Dr. Troy Mariage; and Dr. Cindy Okolo for all their wisdom and insight in integrating special education in educational leadership. I am most grateful to Dr. Maenette Benham, who not only acted as my advisor and committee chairperson, but who also offered much support and encouragement for the completion this dissertation. My success in this adventure stems from the love and support I received from my family and my good friends. Richard and Nelva Sherman, my loving parents, were not only my biggest cheerleaders, they were the ones that taught me to believe and have faith in myself. My friends, Tracy, Jen, Sharon and Stacy, were constant sources of support and encouragement. Thank you for the strength you gave to me throughout this process. Finally, Ted was my source of calm during the last crazy hours of completion. You knew I could do it, even I wasn’t sure. vi TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF TABLES ............................................................................................................ xii LIST OF FIGURES ......................................................................................................... xiii LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS ............................................................................................. xiv CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................................... 1 Introduction to Study ........................................................................................................... 1 Statement of Problem ................................................................................................... 1 Purpose of Study ........................................................................................................... 2 Assumptions ................................................................................................................. 4 The Conceptual Framework ............................................................................................. 5 Exploratory Questions ...................................................................................................... 8 Definition of Terms .......................................................................................................... 9 Advocacy ...................................................................................................................... 9 Disability ...................................................................................................................... 9 IDEIA ........................................................................................................................... 9 IEP ................................................................................................................................ 9 NCLB ......................................................................................................................... 10 CHAPTER 2 REVIEW OF LITERATURE ............................................................................................ 11 Background of Special Education in America ........................................................ . ........... l 1 Access ......................................................................................................................... 12 Neglected and Abused: Special Education Pre-l9503 .......................................... 13 Isolated—The 19508 and 1960s ........................................................................... 17 Acceptance ................................................................................................................ 20 Segregated, but Legislated—the 19705, 19805, and 19903 ................................... 20 The Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act (IDEIA) ....... 24 Zero Reject ................................................................................................. 25 Individual Education Plan (IEP) ................................................................. 25 Least Restrictive Environment ................................................................... 26 Nondiscriminatory Testing ......................................................................... 26 Procedural Due Process ............................................................................... 27 Parental Participation .................................................................................. 27 Accountability ............................................................................................................... 32 A Dual System and the Principal ............................................................................. 34 Preparation ........................................................................................................... 35 Knowledge ........................................................................................................... 37 Tensions ................................................................................................................ 40 Human Resources .......................................................................................... 40 Time Management .......................................................................................... 4] vii Conceptual Lens ............................................................................................................ 42 Personal Anchor: The Ethics of Care and Justice ..................................................... 43 The Ethic of Care ................................................................................................. 45 The Ethic of Justice .............................................................................................. 45 Alternative Ethics or An Integrated Ethic? ..................................................... 46 Sensemaking ........................................... _ ............................................................... 48 Sensemaking is Grounded in Identity Construction ....................................... 48 Sensemaking Has An Element of Retrospectivity .......................................... 49 Sensemaking is Enactive of Sensible Environments ....................................... 50 Sensemaking is Social ..................................................................................... 50 Sensemaking is On-going ................................................................................ 51 Sensemaking is Focused On and By Extracted Cues ...................................... 51 Sensemaking is Driven by Plausibility Rather than Accuracy ........................ 52 Summary ....................................................................................................................... 53 CHAPTER 3 METHODOLOGY ............................................................................................................ 54 Introduction ........................................................................................................................ 55 Method and Design ..................................................................................................... 55 Rationale for a Phenomenological Study ............................................................. 55 Use of Case Study ................................................................................................ 56 Sampling ............................................................................................................... 56 Use of Ethnographic Strategies ............................................................................ 58 In-Depth, One-on-One Interviews ................................................................... 59 Day of Shadowing ........................................................................................... 60 Photovoice ....................................................................................................... 61 Photovoice Framing Questions .................................................................. 62 Group Discourse Questions ........................................................................ 62 Focus Group Questions .................................................................................. 62 Organizing, Analyzing, and Synthesizing the Data ............................................. 63 Trustworthiness ................................................................................................ 63 Credibility .................................................................................................. 64 Transferability ........................................................................................... 64 Dependability ............................................................................................ 65 Role of the Researcher .................................................................................................... 66 Limitations ..................................................................................................................... 67 viii CHAPTER 4 . . PRESENTATION OF THE DATA: . SPECIAL EDUCATION THROUGH THE LENS OF THREE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PRINCIPALS ................................................................................................ .....69 Introduction ........................................................................................................................ 69 The Shape and Form of the Setting: The Base of the Pyramid ...................................... 72 The Intermediate School District .............................................................................. 72 The Three Schools’ Contexts ............................................................................... 73 Special Education Service Delivery Continuum .................................................. 74 Cline Elementary .......................................................................................................... 75 Town Context ............................................................................................................ 75 School Context .................................................................................. 76 Special Education Service Delivery ...... * ............................................................... 77 Tracy Shower’s View of Her Roles and Responsibilities ......................................... 81 A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words: Cline Elementary ........................................ 87 Special Education Through My Lens: Tracy ....................................................... 88 Summary .............................................................................................................. 92 Ravenswood Elementary .............................................................................................. 93 Town Context ............................................................................................................ 93 School Context .......................................................................................................... 93 Special Education Service Delivery Continuum .................................................. 94 Jack Smith’s View of His Roles and Responsibilities ............................................... 98 A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words: Ravenswood Elementary ........................... 104 Special Education Through My Lens: Jack ....................................................... 105 Summary ............................................................................................................ 110 Merryvale Elementary School .................................................................................... 110 Town Context .......................................................................................................... 110 School Context ........................................................................................................ 1 11 Special Education Service Delivery Continuum ................................................ 112 Joe Murchie’s View of His Roles and Responsibilities ........................................... 114 A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words: Merryvale Elementary ............................... 119 Special Education Through My Lens: Joe ......................................................... 120 Summary ............................................................................................................ 124 Making Sense of the Photographs: The Analytical Discourse Among Three Principals ................................................... 124 What Policies Do I Have that Meet Special Education (IDEIA) Policy? ............... 125 What Roles and/or Responsibilities Do I Have With Regard to Special Education? ......................................................................... 128 What Tensions Do I Struggle with as an Inclusive Leader? ................................... 13] Taking the Discourse Further: Four Questions and the Principals’ Voices ............ 134 What Gaps or Tensions Are Common to All Participants? ................................ 134 ix What Forms Does Advocacy Take? .................................................................. 136 What Can We Learn From Each Other? ........................................................... 138 Summary ................................................................................................................... 139 CHAPTER 5 MAKING THE INVISIBLE VISIBLE: EXPLORING THE DATA .............................. 141 Introduction ...................................................................................................................... 141 Finding the Balance: The Ethics of Care and Justice ............................................ 141 The Ethic of Care ............................................................................................... 142 The Ethic of Justice ............................................................................................ 146 Making Sense of Advocacy in an Integrated AND Unbalanced Ethical System ..... 150 Sensemaking is Retrospective and On-going .................................................... 150 Sensemaking is a Social Process that is Enactive of Sensible Environments ....152 Sensemaking is Driven by Plausibility: The “Reasonable-ness” of a Decision ................................................................ 156 Integration of Ethics: What the Ethic of Care and the Ethic of Justice Suggest .......... 158 The Personal and Public Relation Spheres .............................................................. 159 Keeping the Tensions From Toppling Over: Expecting the Unexpected .................... 162 The Dark Side: Multi-Pronged Tensions ................................................................ 162 The Tension of Student Placement .......................................................................... 164 The Tension of Roles .............................................................................................. 166 CHAPTER 6 CONCLUSIONS AND CONTRIBUTIONS ................................................................... 169 Introduction .................................................................................................................. 1 69 Common Ground ......................................................................................................... 169 Fairness ................................................................................................................... 173 The Interplay of Theories ............................................................................................. 177 Implications .................................................................................................................. l 83 Next Steps .................................................................................................................... 185 Final Reflection ............................................................................................................ 187 APPENDIX 1. Research Participant Information and Consent Form ................................................ 189 11. Focus Group Research Participant Information and Consent Form ........................ 191 III. One-On- One Interview .......................................................................................... 195 IV. Photovoice Steps ..................................................................................................... 196 V. One-on-One Interviewing Questions ....................................................................... 198 VI. Focus Group Questions ........................................................................................... 199 X VII. Weblog Discussion Among Principals .................................................................. 200 VIII. Weblog Posting Probes ......................................................................... - ............... 2 02 VIV. Audit Trail ............................................................................................................ 205 REFERENCES ................................................................................................................ 206 xi LIST OF TABLES 3.1 Principal Demographics ............................................................................................... 58 3.2 Data Collection Dates .................................................................................................. 59 3.3 Focus Group Dates ....................................................................................................... 59 4.] School Principal Matrix ............................................................................................... 70 4.2 Town Context, Assessment Scores and Special Education Services ........................... 74 xii LIST OF FIGURES 1.1 Conceptual Framework .................................................................................................. 5 4.1 Special Education Service Delivery Continuum .......................................................... 75 4.2 Cline’s 2006 MEAP Scores ......................................................................................... 77 4.3 Ravenswood’s 2006 MEAP Scores ............................................................................. 94 4.4 Merryvale’s 2006 MEAP Scores ............................................................................... 112 6.1. Original Conceptual Framework ............................................................................... 178 6.2 Nested Conceptual Framework .................................................................................. 179 xiii LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS 4.1 Reversed Mainstreaming ........... 88 4.2 Lunch with Friends ...................................................................................................... 89 4.3 Classroom Space and Programs ................................................................................... 91 4.4 TEAM: We Are In This Together .............................................................................. 105 4.5 Art From a Learning Disabled Student ...................................................................... 106 4.6 Flutter By Mosaic ...................................................................................................... 108 4.7 This Is Us ................................................................................................................... 120 4.8 Service For All ........................................................................................................... 121 4.9 Do You See What I See? ........................................................................................... 123 4.10 Programs that Meet IDEIA Policy ........................................................................... 125 4.11 Roles and Responsibilities ....................................................................................... 128 4.12 Tensions for Inclusive Leaders ................................................................................ 131 xiv CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION "There is only one child in the world and that child ’s name is ALL children. ” ——Carl Sandburg INTRODUCTION TO STUDY The intersection of No Child Left Behind (NCLB) and the Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act of 2004 (IDEIA) has brought the education of students with disabilities to the attention of school principals. Although research has indicated that school principals often lack the necessary knowledge and skills to understand and effectively administer special education policies (Burton, 2004; Farley, 2002; Monteith, 1994; Praisner, 2003; Sirotnik & Kimball, 1994), principals now find themselves more accountable for both the learning and assessment of their special education students. In light of this conundrum, I wanted to understand what tensions principals wrestle with when dealing with special education, as well as to learn how they maneuver around such knotty issues. In this phenomenological study, therefore, I examined three elementary school principals in their natural setting to better understand how they made sense of special education policies and procedures and the extent to which they translated them into action that supports students with disabilities in their buildings. Statement of the Problem With ever-increasing control from the federal government over local educational agencies, the job of the principal has gotten harder. Principals find themselves trying to comply with more and more policies, including the many demands of special education, with less help and training. The research in this arena, discussed in Chapter 2, shows that few principals believe they are adequately trained to be administrators of special education. Nevertheless, the tenets set forth by NCLB hold schools, and principals, responsible for the learning of all students, including special education students. This begs the question: Without adequate training, how do current principals ensure a caring educational environment for their special education students? In essence, how do they advocate for such learners? This situation raises many tensions for principals as they work within a pluralistic educational system that includes both general and special education students. Both streams are regulated by court cases and legislation. Both demand principals’ time, knowledge, and expertise. Both have issues unique to themselves. Both can cause principals a number of headaches. Because principals are thought of primarily as general educational administrators, the concern then becomes focused on special education. Little research has been done to understand how practicing principals navigate these tensions or whether and how they effectively handle the competing interests of general and special education. Purpose of the Study My purpose in conducting this study was to explore how elementary principals make sense of special education and to what extent they may advocate for students with disabilities within their buildings. From this study I hoped to (a) to add to a small but growing body of inquiry focused on the roles and work of school principals as they address special education needs in their settings and (b) to offer insights for current school principals who are struggling to do the best for all children, special and general education students alike. This aim is a necessary one. The literature on principals and special education indicates that school principals do not have enough training or enough knowledge of special education laws. In fact, a cursory look at M.A. principal programs at mid-westem universities revealed a dearth of special education coursework for school principals. Much of the coursework that might be helpful to school principals is offered only in specialist programs in the administration of special education.1 Current research (see Chapter 2) paints an overwhelming and grim picture for current principals. The collective sense is that the principalship in inclusive schools is difficult to the point of bordering on impossible. In this dissertation, I looked at the work of elementary school principals from a different perspective, which is looking for effectiveness already in place. In brief, 1 set out to uncover not only the collisions, but also (and in particular) the critical moments and activities that revealed what works in an elementary school setting. Whereas quantitative methods have been used in the majority of research about principals and special education, I employed qualitative methods, a phenomenological approach, which pressed me to make meaning of experiences through thick description. In addition, I used the unique approach of Photovoice, which is an empowerment tool that invites participants both to share information and to engage in the data-analysis process. Although the study does not easily lend itself to generalization, the findings will help us to understand what elementary principals do, have difficulty doing, and perhaps cannot or do not act/advocate for students with disabilities. The work illustrates how three elementary school principals navigate the tensions created by being responsible for IThrough a cursory look at 15 public universities within the state that this study was conducted, 1 found that only four offer either courses or certification in special education leadership. 3 both general and special education students. The research does not offer a panacea, but rather various avenues that have worked for other principals. Assumptions Improvements in the education of students with disabilities have come in three waves: access, acceptance, and accountability (see Chapter 2 for further discussion of this history). At the beginning of the American educational system, students with disabilities, physical or otherwise, were denied access to the classroom and to learning. Thought of as “backward,” they were cast aside. Once such diverse learners were granted access to an education, their acceptance as a legitimate part of the educational system and as worthy learners was the next hurdle to overcome. Today, legislation holds schools accountable for the learning experiences of students with disabilities. What I learned from the literature is that the success of the programs undertaken during each of these waves-~access, acceptance, and accountability—has been determined by the extent to which there was active advocacy. The underlying assumption with which I approached this exploratory study was that the extent to which effective learning opportunities exist for students with disabilities depends on the nature of (and/or level of) advocacy on the part of the school principal. I assumed that the close alignment between NCLB and IDEIA ’04 has encouraged, even forced, hesitant principals to become involved with the education of disabled students. Because there is a dearth of literature about advocacy and principals and because institutions of higher education do not necessarily train principals to view themselves as educational leaders for students with disabilities, we do not fully understand what advocacy looks like for elementary principals. THE CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK Just how do elementary school principals make sense of meeting the needs of students with disabilities, as well as ensure that all students’ needs are met? Raising this question often makes most principals, special education directors and teachers, and general education educators apprehensive. Most administrators form vague understandings of what it means to be informed supporters of special education, leaving the actual daily work to the special education specialist, whereas other administrators become advocates for special education programs. In an attempt to understand principals’ range of experiences and approaches, and to ensure that I could elicit rich descriptions, I chose a synthesis of three theories to enhance my understanding of the phenomenon under investigation. The theories of ethic of care, ethic of justice, and sensemaking underlie the nested conceptual framework where sensemaking is woven throughout and between each theory (see Figure 1.] Conceptual Framework). The theories are discussed in depth in Chapter 2. / / Ethic of Justice \ \/ Sensemaking thic of Care .7 Advocacy Figure 1.] Conceptual Framework The ethic of care is the first facet of the conceptual lens through which I viewed principals’ actions as a result of their decision-making. The ethic of care often is thought of as a feminine way of judging situations (Gilligan, 1982, as cited in Vreeke, 1991) because it is fundamentally focused on how humans treat one another. Relationships and connections with one another are emphasized. As such, it operates in the personal relations sphere (Clement, 1996). The ethic of care is “an essential link to the successful administration of just and caring educational programs for students with disabilities”(Pazey, 1995, p. 298) because these unique learners and their families require a strong connection to, a solid relationship with, and humane treatment by their principals. We can see the ethic of care is yin and the ethic of justice is yang. The ethic of justice operates separate of context, free from the constraints that relationships may cause. The ethic of care is concerned with the more abstract concepts of fairness, equity, and justice (Stefkovich & O'Brien, 2004). The ethic of justice, then, operates in the public relations sphere (Clement, 1996). According to Starratt (1991), the ethic of justice must serve the common good and the rights of all individuals within the school. It is here that the federal laws that govern the educational world come into play. Principals who operate from this ethic are knowledgeable about the laws that protect their students’ individual rights, as well as those laws that protect the common good of all learners. Besides determining the knowledge base of school principals, I also wanted to better understand how principals work to (or not) share power, to critique and dispel stereotypes about special education, and to promote equity across programs. Scholars, such as Noddings (1993), Vreeke (1991), and Starratt (1991) often distinguish between the ethic of care and the ethic of justice in that they have distinct fields of application: the ethic of care is used in the personal relation sphere and the ethic of justice is used in the public relations sphere. However, Clement (1996) deviates from the “either or” concept because such thinking results in “uncaring forms of justice and unjust forms of care” (p. 2). Clement (1996) contends in her book, Care, Autonomy, and Justice, that if the ethic of care alone can lead to exaggerated individual interests while drawing attention away from “the general realities that structure those situations, and which require our attention for any significant change” (p. 112). If justice alone is applied, then only the large good is strived for without consideration of individual needs. Though Clement (1996) does see the value in understanding the ethic of care or the ethic of justice as separate; she does not believe that they are mutually exclusive or dichotomous. She posits that care should not be consigned only to the personal sphere and justice only to the public because their priorities “over lap” (p. 21). “Properly understood, the ethic of justice requires not just abstract principals but contextual details as well. Likewise, the ethic of care requires not only contextual details, but also general principles as well” (Clement, 1996, p. 76). Therefore, these ethics are “complementary approaches” (p. 4) that creates “an integrated ethic” (p. 121). In essence, if the ethics of care and justice are integrated, they are no long relegated to their separate spheres, but rather “that they can jointly determined deliberation in public as well as personal context. By integrating them in that we use both ethics instead of merely on in any given situation, we acknowledge their interdependence and their distinctiveness” (Clement, 1996, p. 121). Applying both ethics to any situation allows insights in ways that one ethic alone could not do (Clement, 1996). Sensemaking, the final component of the theoretical framework, enriches our understanding of how principals navigate tensions that they encounter while working in a dual system. The assumption is made that how they make sense of a situation may directly influence how they balance the ethics of care and justice. Weick (1995) presents seven properties of sensemaking that include: (a) grounded in identity construction, (b) retrospective, (c) enactive of sensible environments, ((1) social, (e) ongoing, (t) focused on and by extracted cues, and (g) driven by plausibility rather than accuracy. As the foundation of the emergent lens, sensemaking pressed me to inquire about the principals’ perceptions (thinking and reflection processes), how they perceived that their actions influenced the daily work of the schools and in particular the work of the special education program, and how what was learned from these experiences guided (or not) and generated (or not) activity that supported the needs of special education students, specifically, and general education students, holistically. EXPLORATORY QUESTIONS The overarching exploratory question is: How do elementary building-level principals make meaning of and enact special education policies to create caring learning environments for students with disabilities? Sub questions were as follows: 1. How do (if they do) elementary school principals make meaning of “advocacy”? 2. To what extent and through what concrete forms does “advocacy” translate into practice? Who benefits from “advocacy”? 3. What can we learn that has policy and practice implications? What can higher education learn from these findings? DEFINITION OF TERMS Special education has a language all its own, a lexicon full of acronyms. The following terms are defined in the context in which they are used in this dissertation. Advocacy According to Freddolino, Moxley, and Hyduk (2005), “The purpose of advocacy within the profession is to improve the social status of individuals who may be considered vulnerable or oppressed, thereby enhancing their standing within a specific social system whether it is a community, organization, service system, societal institution, or society itself” (p. 119). Advocacy, then, becomes the decisions and actions by principals that deliberately benefit special education and the students it serves. Disability In current American education, the term disability encompasses a large field, from learning disabilities to physical disabilities. IDEIA ’04 acknowledges 13 categories of disabilities for children ranging in age from 1 to 21 years. For this study, however, the term disability is used in an all-encompassing way; one eligibility category is not distinguished from another. ID_EI_A The Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act of 2004, the reauthorization of The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act. IEP This acronym stands for an individual education plan. It refers to the meeting time to craft the plan, as well as the resulting documentation that outlines the education and services a student will receive. This is a legal document that his reviewed once at least once a year. N_CLB The No Child Left Behind Act enacted by George W. Bush in January of 2002. It is the reauthorization of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act and is the driving force behind the increase of accountability for public schools. OVERVIEW OF CHAPTERS Chapter 1 set the stage for the ensuing study. In it, I laid out the rationale for exploring principal advocacy in elementary schools. In addition, I introduced the emergent conceptual framework employed to evaluate the findings, and introduced the exploratory questions. The historical context of special education and students with disabilities within American education is set forth in Chapter 2, the review of literature. The tenets of IDEIA and the IEP are clarified. Also explained are the theories comprising the emergent conceptual framework: the ethic of care, the ethic of justice, and sensemaking. In Chapter 3 I explain the research methods employed in this study, giving the rationale for the qualitative nature and instruments used. The findings of the study are presented and explored in Chapter 4. Tensions, both expected and unexpected, surface in this chapter. The findings are then analyzed in Chapter 5. Flaws in the emergent conceptual framework are presented, and a new model is proposed. Finally, Chapter 6 summarizes the additions to the existing research on principals and advocacy for students with disabilities, and suggestions are made for further research. 10 CHAPTER 2 REVIEW OF LITERATURE "I implore you to see with a child '3 eyes, to hear with a child 's ears, and take] with a child '5 heart. " - Antonio Novello BACKGROUND OF SPECIAL EDUCATION IN AMERICA American education always has struggled with diversity. Each generation has had 999 to deal with the “influx of ‘new students, and the dominant approach to assimilation of such diverse “new learners” has been homogenization (Riehl, 2000, p. 322). Yet, for all of the attempts to achieve homogenization through public legislation, there remains a subclass of American learners who have not become 5tandardized-—those with disabilities. The field of special education has a long and sordid history of being overlooked by general educators, politicians, and school leaders. For special education students, parents, and professionals, it ofien feels as if they are living in the shadows of American education. In comparison to America’s long history of public education, the integration of special education is in its infancy, barely a half-century old. The civil rights movement of the 19505 and 19605 set the tone for societal changes and educational justice in American education characterized by humanitarianism and egalitarianism. A recurring theme of the reforms was social equity and an attempt to right the educational inequities of the past. The intention of the reforms was to grant access to public education to all students, regardless of race or ability. But “[E]ducationa1 leadership has never been known for its boldness or originality, in particular when it comes to issues of equity and justice,” Kohl (1999, p. 310) pointed out. Therefore, the many changes in special 11 education did not originate from educational leaders, but rather from parents, lawyers, and Congress. Parents advocated for equal education for their disabled students, applying pressure first through the courts, and then through Congress. Since the latter half of the 19505, involvement of the federal government in special education has increased, creating a succession of policies aimed at leveling the educational playing field for disabled students. To date, special education has come in three waves: access, acceptance, and accountability. In this chapter I look at each of those waves and the decades that comprised America’s educational history. The pieces of legislation, and their catalysts, are discussed, as well as how public school administrators have responded to each wave. A look at the dualistic system of American education and the tensions that such a system presents for administrators follows. Finally, ethics of care and justice and the theory of sensemaking are described as lenses through which to View and understand better the tensions experienced by principals. m American education often is misconstrued as a constitutional right in and of itself. However, the framers of our nation left the responsibility for education to the individual states. They saw education as a vehicle to obtain the inalienable rights of liberty and property as granted by the 5th and 14th amendments to the United States Constitution. Therefore, to deny anyone an education is tantamount to denying the American dream. For years, children with mental, physical, and emotional differences were denied this right. Access to what every other American child had, a free and appropriate public education, emerged as the first battle in the fight for equal educational opportunity. To 12 understand why parents advocated for access to a public education, why Congress legislated admission for a select sub-culture of learners, why decades of professionals have made careers in the field of special education, and why school administrators have wrestled, and still do, with leading schools with disabled students in them, it is necessary to look at how students with disabilities once were treated. Neglected and Abused: Special Education Pre-19505 The edict found in thelOth Amendment to the Constitution places responsibility for public education, and subsequently the decision of who is to be educated, in the hands of the individual states (Kohl, 1999). To ensure that students were being provided a public education, individual states began to enact compulsory education laws, starting with Rhode Island in 1840. By 1918, all states mandated school attendance; but sadly not all students were welcomed (Yell, Rogers, & Rogers, 1998). In their book T inkering Toward Utopia: A Century of Public School Reform, Tyack and Cuban (1995) noted that those most in need of an education received the least amount. Kohl (1999) believed that disability is a “social construction and has to do with whom the society or local community will accept as being worthy of love and full participation” (p. 310). In the first half of the 20'h century, society did not deem disabled students worthy of full participation in schools. In 1938, only 1% of the disabled population were being educated (T yack & Cuban, 1995). Students with disabilities often were excluded from public schools because they were perceived as “misfits” (Tyack & Cuban, 1995), deviants (Fiedler, 2000), and “uneducable” (Fiedler, 2000; Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin, Martin, & Terman, 1996; Osborne, DiMattia, & Curran, 1993; Tyack & Cuban, 1995). Moreover, the judicial system justified such practice. Courts throughout the states 13 upheld the notion of restricted access, thus placing many schools in direct conflict with compulsory education. In 1893, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled in Watson v. City of Cambridge that a “child who was ‘weak in the mind’ and could not benefit from instruction, was troublesome to other children, and was unable to take ‘ordinary, decent, physical care of himself’ could be expelled from public school” (Horn & Tynan, 2001; Yell et al., 1998, p. 220). Decades of such legislation led many school administrators to believe that they would not see a return on their investment for educating such students (Rabe & Peterson, 1998) and therefore did not need educate them. As a result, many families turned to private or state-run institutions for an education for their disabled children. Sadly enough, a number of students in such settings were used as guinea pigs for experiments. At the Willowbrook institution on Staten Island, New York, mentally retarded children were knowingly injected with hepatitis. Parents, desperate to maintain their children’s place at the “school,” were forced to consent to this inhumane treatment (Ensminger, 2004). Children at F emald and Wrentham institutions were fed radioactive oatmeal without parental consent as part of a study by the Atomic Energy Commission (Renold, n.d.). The treatment of disabled children, coupled with compulsory education’s failing students with disabilities, led to the creation of The White House Conference 0/1910, whose goal was to “define and establish remedial programs for children with disabilities educating these children in public school settings, rather than institutionalizing them” (Yell et al., 1998, p. 221). Yet, only a few states and larger urban districts provided programs for handicapped children in the form of special programs for the blind, deaf, or 14 physically/mentally handicapped. More often than not, these programs were intended for the incorrigible, the backward, and the unruly, and were isolated from the rest of the school. Educators, too, perpetuated the segregation of special education. Many thought that separate classes benefited specialized learners because the curriculum could be tailored to a homogeneous population, there would be more individualized attention, and a less competitive atmosphere would improve the self-esteem of disabled learners. Between 1910 and 1930, segregated special education classes enjoyed support (Yell et al., 1998); this practice continued until the Great Depression. During this time in American history, schools struggled financially, and special education became an easy target for budget cutbacks. Many of the programs that did survive resembled the institutional settings. Such practices acted as a catalyst for advocacy. Parents, mostly mothers, began to work together collectively “in response to the deplorable conditions that their children with special needs had to endure in school, as well as the increasing exclusion of children with disabilities from school” (Yell et al., 1998, p. 221). Refusing to lose the momentum generated by the 1910 White House Conference, parents banded together to advocate for the rights of their students. During the 19305 and 19405, many small grassroots groups cropped up across the nation, lending support to fellow parents, working for local change, and setting the stage for future national advocacy groups. One of the earliest local parent advocacy groups was formed in Cuyahoga County, Ohio, in 1933. Five mothers created the Cuyahoga County, Ohio, Council for Retarded Children and worked together to protest the expulsion of their mentally retarded youngsters from school (Yell et al., 1998). But parents were not the only players in the 15 special education advocacy game in the first half of the 20th century. Faculty and students at Teachers College, Columbia University, in New York established the Council of Exceptional Children, an organization for professionals. And the United Cerebral Palsy Association, Inc. was founded in 1949. Despite the attention from the White House and small pockets of parent- advocates, children with disabilities continuously were relegated to the margins of society, ignored, neglected, and abused during the first half of the 20th century. This period lacked incentives for schools to educate disabled students, did not require accountability, and imposed no sanctions for those that excluded them. The educational reforms swung the practice of educational administration to the scientific management model, patterned after the business and industrial world (Gamson, 2004). However, applying business-industrial values to education was detrimental to disabled students because, in business, the bottom line is a return on one’s investment, and students with disabilities were believed to be defective and a weakness in the educational machinery. Administrators occupied a unique position as the “gatekeepers” to their schools. With or without established programs, superintendents, principals, and assistant principals could deny or grant students access to their schools as they saw fit. And special education programs were costly to school districts. For many administrators, special education was someone else’s problem. In school systems that did provide 99 66 classes for such “misfit, uneducable” learners, the leadership style was “hands-off.” Programs were merely rooms connected to the building and not the building-level principals’ concern. It was not until the special education movement found its strength in 16 parent advocacy in two venues, the courts and eventually legislation, that school personnel were forced to notice it. Isolated—T he 19505 and 19605 Not only did the landmark case of the civil rights movement, Brown v. Board of Education (1954), provide educational equality to African Americans, it also began to promote educational equality for students with disabilities. This groundbreaking victory granted equality of opportunity and greater constitutional protection to minorities under the 14th Amendment, which forbids states to deny any person living within their boundaries equal protection under the law. If states mandated compulsory education for students, then all students, regardless of their race, must be granted equal education. No longer did the “separate but equal” public education dictum reign. A call for the end of segregation was issued (Yell et al., 1998). Brown’s protection eventually was extended to students with disabilities, due to the work of special education advocates. “Advocates for students with disabilities, citing Brown, claimed that students with disabilities had the same rights as students without disabilities” (Yell et al., 1998, p. 221). This call for equality echoed the sentiment that children with handicaps had been treated differently and were not being afforded a public education. As history had proven, this criticism had merit. Advocates built their argument on the Supreme Court’s civil rights stance that segregating students based solely on “unalterable characteristics (e.g., race or disability) was unconstitutional” (Yell et al., 1998, p. 22]). Until the 19505, special education advocates were not united nationally. The extent of their influence was limited to bringing about change locally in their schools, administration, and communities. Uniting nationally created a networking system in 17 which parents, educators, and professionals could effect change on a larger scale. One such national advocacy group was the National Association for Retarded Citizens (NARC). This small but powerful alliance started as a group of parents who gathered after the annual meeting of the American Association on Mental Deficiency in 1950. Within the next year, the single unit grew to 57 local groups; by 1955, 412 groups had been formed. By 1964, NARC had 100,000 members and representatives from 28 counties (Segal, n.d.). This is just one example of a powerful grassroots parental group inspired by the struggle of African-Americans during the pre-Brown era. Other advocacy groups that formed during the 19505 and 19603 include the National Association for Retarded Citizens (1950), the National Society for Autistic Children (1961), the National Association for Down Syndrome (1961), and the Association for Children With 'Leaming Disabilities (1964). Both local and national parent advocacy groups, along with professional organizations, turned their attention for change to the same venue that the schools had used to exclude their children for decades: the legal system. They “banded to challenge state and federal governments in courts and ultimately to establish federal legislation that mandated a free and appropriate education for all children with disabilities” (Yell et al., 1998, p. 222). By the 19603, advocates for children with disabilities wanted (1) a single entity that would coordinate federal educational efforts for children with disabilities; (2) increased categorical funding, that is funding for the exclusive purpose of educating students with disabilities; and (3) an enforceable entitlement, which was eventually obtained through the courts. (Martin et al., 1996, p. 26) Specific court cases and their subsequent special education legislation are addressed later in this chapter. 18 The catalyst for taking another step closer to access to a public education for students with disabilities came from the Soviet Union. With the Cold War heating up into a space race, Americans were shocked when the Soviet Union launched Sputnik in 1957. The fear that America could be surpassed by Russia led the federal government to become more involved with public education during this era. As a reaction to Sputnik, in 195 8, Congress passed the National Defense Education Act (NDEA) to improve mathematics and science programs in public elementary schools (Martin et al., 1996). The NDEA did not directly benefit students with disabilities, but it did open the door to federal involvement in special education. Public Law 85-926, which provided monies to colleges to strengthen the instruction for teaching mentally retarded children, was signed into law by President Eisenhower only four days after NDEA (Martin et al., 1996). But the first major federal vehicle to improve public education was the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) of 1965. As a result of this bill, Title I funds were allocated to serve special education students in state-operated or state-supported schools. This was a conflict-ridden time for school administrators. For the first time, the courts were telling schools to educate selected populations of students who once had been excluded, the federal government was adding pressure to compete internationally, and parents advocated for an education for their children with disabilities. Yet school administrators were being sent mixed signals. In 1958 and 1969, two cases supported the practice of excluding the “feeble minded” from state-provided free public education (Yell et al., 1998). However, by the 19603, most states had enacted laws that required an education for handicapped children, and by 1973, 45 states had redundant laws in this regard (Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin et al., 1996). Coupled with the growing federal 19 involvement in education and advocacy pressure, school leaders were being forced to accept yet another disenfranchised population of learners. Special education efforts varied from state to state, but most often during this era, special education entailed nothing more than “admittance to public schools” (Yell et al., 1998). Isolated in separate rooms, wings, and buildings, special education students did not participate along with general education students. Often, struggling students would drop out of school altogether. The states that did mandate education for disabled children had little authority with regard to how school leaders dealt with disabled learners because the laws were under funded and under enforced. Unified federal legislation existed to guide practice, so administrators were free to lead as they always had, view it as someone else’s problem, and ignore it. The hierarchy remained intact. Acceptance The gains in access for disabled children forged in the mid-20th century fell short of a quality education. Mere access to a school did not bring about the intended change for which reformers advocated. The focus of special education was turned to acceptance, and the time was ripe for federal intervention. The Congress was “friendly” (Rabe & Peterson, 1998, p. 479), and in 1975 a landmark piece of legislation emerged. The practices of mainstreaming and inclusion of the 19803 and 19905 grew out of the legislation and helped support the concept of acceptance. Segregated, but Legislated—T he 19703, 19803, and 19905 By 1973, 45 states had laws that mandated education for disabled students (Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin et al., 1996). Unfortunately, not one of the 50 states educated all of their disabled children. In the first part of the decade, schools retained the right to 20 decide who was worthy of full participation (Kohl, 1999), and as a result many subpopulations of handicapped students were denied access to public education. Frustrated, the disability-rights movement in education did not just mimic the pre-Brown civil rights movement; its aims were significantly parallel to those of the ongoing, post- Brown movement for black equality (Kelman, 2001). The focus of special education advocates turned from “separate but equal” to acceptance for all disabled students. The 19703 saw an increase in national advocacy groups, such as The Association for the Severely Handicapped (TASH, 1974). United in numbers and cause, disability-rights advocates used the same venue that schools had been using to exclude disabled students, the same venue that had proven effective for the African American civil rights movement: the courts. Two seminal cases emerged in 1972 to set the groundwork for current special education law and practices: Pennsylvania Association for Retarded Children (PARC) v. Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and Mills v. Board of Education. PARC v. Commonwealth of Pennsylvania challenged the long—standing practice of denying students with limited cognitive functioning an education because they could not benefit from it (Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin et al., 1996; Yell etal., 1998). This court case awarded full access to a free education that was appropriate for each student’s learning capacity, up to the age of 21; it also favored students’ being placed in the least restrictive environment, two principles on which the current legislation is built (Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin et al., 1996). Mills, a suit brought against the District of Columbia public schools for refusing to enroll or expelling students based on their disability, also set precedent for future 21 public policy. The district noted that an estimated 12,340 children in the DC. area would not be granted a public education due to budget constraints. Mills upheld the 14th Amendment, stating that schools cannot discriminate on the basis of disability and cannot refuse to educate disabled children due to budgetary constraints (Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin et al., 1996). Mills ensured for students with disabilities an equal right to a public education and more power to parents in the form of procedural protections and safeguards. Schools no longer could exclude disabled students because of fiscal constraints, as they had done in the Depression. Parents were to have access to all records, the right to prior knowledge before a change in placement was made, and the right to representation at due-process hearings. “The PARC and Mills cases caused a flurry of litigation. By 1973, more than 30 federal court decisions had upheld the principles of PARC and Mills” (Martin et al., 1996, p. 28). Inspired by the gains that they had made in the judicial branch of the government, disability advocates turned their energies toward the legislative arm: Congress. Advocates also enjoyed the support of the states as they tackled Congress. “Once state laws and federal court decisions made clear the states’ responsibility for providing a free, appropriate, public education to all children, regardless of disability, states joined advocates in seeking the passage of federal legislation to provide consistency, federal leadership and federal subsidy of the costs of special education” (Martin et al., 1996, p. 29). Because local school districts and states were left with new responsibilities that they did not know how to meet or lacked funds to do so, they looked to the federal government for unity. 22 In 1973, Congress passed the Rehabilitation Act (Public Law 93-112), a labor statute that found its way into public schools. Section 504 of this act is an extension of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 but was attached to PL 93-112 as an amendment. Section 504 prohibits any agency, including schools, that receives federal funds from discriminating on the basis of disabilities (Martin et al., 1996; Smith & Colon, 1998; Yell etal., 1998). However, for the next 20 years, Section 504 received no funding or monitoring and was “virtually ignored by local and state educational agencies” (Martin et al., 1996, p. 29). In 1974, the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 was amended in favor of disabled students. The Education Amendments of 1974 (PL. 93- 380) added funding for disability programs and created two federal offices for special education: the Bureau of Education for the Handicapped and the National Advisory Council on Handicapped Children. Advocates, though, believed this act to be insufficient and pressed onward. America was home to 8 million children with disabilities in 1972 (Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002). A congressional hearing in 1975 revealed that more than 1 million disabled children in America were still being excluded from schools and 2.2 to 3.5 million others were not receiving the appropriate education for their specific disability (Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002; Doyle, 2002; Horn & Tynan, 2001; Martin et al., 1996; Smith & Colon, 1998). At the federal level, there was growing distrust of local education agencies to distribute equal education for disabled Ieamers. Such restlessness led to the landmark legislation for special education, Public Law 94-142, 3 law that “set forth extraordinarily ambitious objectives and a regulatory framework of unprecedented complexity and detail for a federal education program (Rabe & Peterson, 1998, p. 212). 23 In 1975, Congress passed the Education for All Handicapped Children Act (EAHC) as “an umbrella law that was intended to right many wrongs” (Smith & Colon, 1998, p. 42) and to unite the various state laws. The EAHC Act has been amended four times since its inception, and in 2004 its name was changed to the Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act (IDEIA). Each reauthorization of IDEIA, the latest being in 2004, has added various components to the existing law, but the law today stays true to the six principles it was established on in 1975. The Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act (IDEIA) Public Law 94-142 rests on a foundation of existing judicial rulings and laws and has four provisions: Parts A, B, C, and D. Part A, entitled General Provisions, lays out the rationale for the law, its purpose, and relevant definitions. Part B, Assistance for Education of All Children with Disabilities, articulates the right of all students ages 3 through 21 to receive a free and appropriate public education (FAPE). Part C, Infants and Toddlers with Disabilities, authorizes grants to states to provide early intervention services for children from birth to age 3. And Part D, National Activities to Improve Education of Children with Disabilities, focuses on “research and technology to improve services and results for children with disabilities and technical assistance and training for parents and special education personnel” (Yell, Drasgow, Bradly, & Justensen, 2004, p. 19). For most American school administrators, Part B of IDEIA directly influences their work and is that part of the law that is the focus of the remainder of this chapter. Part B, although not structured as such, comprises six major legal principles: zero reject or FAPE, Individual Education Plan (IEP), least restrictive environment (LRE), nondiscriminatory testing, procedural safeguards, and parent participation. 24 Zero reject. This principle has its roots in the democratic philosophy that “every person is valuable and should be afforded equal opportunities to develop their full potential” (F iedler, 2000, p. 69), the 14th Amendment, and in litigation of PARC. Zero reject ensures all students a “free and appropriate education.” This means that states must provide special education for disabled children from birth to age 21, as granted in PARC. Schools also have the responsibility to locate, identify, and evaluate children suspected of having disabilities within their district and also private schools that reside within the district through “child find” activities (Fiedler, 2000; Martin et al., 1996; Smith & Colon, 1998; Williams & Katsiyannis, 1998; Yell et al., 1998). Individual Education Plan (IEP). “An Individualized Education Plan (IEP) is a document that outlines the instructional goals, objectives, evaluation criteria, specially-designed instruction, and related services that should be provided to a student with disabilities 50 he or she can succeed in school” (Bugaj, 2000, p. 41). Each student receiving special education programming must have an IEP, a document legally committing the school to provide specialized education and services. The IEP is created by a team of people that includes parents, the student, special and general education teachers, a representative from the local educational agency (LEA), personnel providing related services such as a speech therapist or occupational therapist, and other persons at the discretion of either the parents or the LEA. Included in the IEP are child—specific components such as the student’s present level of academic and functional performance, targeted disability goals and objectives for improvement, a list of related services required, the extent to which the 25 child will participate in the general education setting, and how the student will be assessed on state and district tests. The IEP is reviewed at least once a year. However, parents, LEAs, and students can call for a new IEP meeting at any time to review or amend the existing document (F iedler, 2000; Martin et al., 1996; Smith & Colon, 1998; Williams & Katsiyannis, 1998). Least restrictive environment (LRE). This principle, which was established by PARC, aims to help desegregate special education. As noted, most special education programs once were isolated and thought of as separate educational settings. Least restrictive environment in IDEIA requires that to the maximum extent appropriate, children with disabilities, including children in public or private institutions or other care facilities, are educated with children who are not disabled, and that special classes, separate schooling, or other removal of children with disabilities from the regular educational environment occurs only when the nature of severity of the disability is such that education in regular classes with the use of supplementary aides and services cannot be achieved satisfactorily. (IDEIA, 20 U.S.C. Sec. 1412) It is clear that this principle derives from the civil rights movement for equality (Fiedler, 2000; Martin et al., 1996; Smith & Colon, 1998; Yell et al., 1998). Fiedler argued that students with disabilities “should experience the least restrictive educational means, and have the same rights of access to their environment as students without disabilities enjoy” (p. 86). Nondiscriminatory testing. The 5th and 14th Amendments ensure that students are not denied constitutional liberties such as an appropriate education (Tumbull, 1978). Those who crafted IDEIA understood that failure to properly identify disabled learners could, in fact, deny those students an appropriate public education. Therefore, the framers included within 26 §l21a530 through §l21a534 provisions to ensure that testing procedures are culturally ' and racially nondiscriminatory. The evaluations must be provided and administered in the native language of the child by a professional trained in the area of the suspected disability. The assessments used must be “technically sound instruments that assess multiple areas and factors” (Yell, 1998, p. 78), and no single instrument can be used to determine a disability. A multidisciplinary team must interpret the results of all assessments. Procedural due process. The principle of protection of student and parental rights stems from Mills. Local educational agencies are required to provide opportunities for parents to review evaluations and make informed decisions with regard to their child’s placement (Smith & Colon, 1998). If parents or guardians disagree with the LEA, the differences are resolved through mediation or a due-process hearing (Fiedler, 2000; Martin et al., 1996; Smith & Colon, 1998; 'Yell et al., 1998). Parental participation. Steps to ensure that parents are notified, involved, and included in the evaluation, programming, and assessment of students with disabilities is mandated by law (F iedler, 2000; Smith & Colon, 1998; Yell et al., 1998). In 1997, IDEIA was reauthorized with a focus on achievement and the movement of disabled children into regular education (Doyle, 2002). “In passing the law, Congress stated that IDEIA had been extremely successful in improving students’ access to public school, and the critical issue in 1997 was to improve the performance and educational achievement of students with 27 disabilities in both the special and general education curriculum” (Yell et al., 1998, p. 226). IDEIA ’97 added the requirement of assessing all disabled students with state and district assessments (Patterson, Marshall, & Bowling, 2000). Alternative assessments were required when the standard test was not appropriate for the student. It also required a general education teacher to attend and participate in the creation of a student’s IEP (Williams & Katsiyannis, 1998). General educators are viewed as experts on the grade- level general curriculum and have vital information as to the success a student with disabilities can have in the curriculum. Finally, IDEIA ’97 IEPs asked questions about how the disability affects the student’s ability to progress in the general curriculum, to what extent the student will be educated both within and outside of general education, and what accommodations are to be given in the general education setting (Doyle, 2002). “As a civil rights law, IDEIA is unique. It is the only such law that provides federal funds to educational agencies if they agree to comply with the requirements of the law” (Morrissey, 1998, p. 5). Realizing that IDEIA added new cost to LEAs, and continuing the funding started in the Education Amendments of 1974, P.L. 94—142 legislated federal state aid for special education programming (Rabe & Peterson, 1998; Smith & Colon, 1998; Yell et al., 1998). Congress allocated funds up to 40% of the excess cost of educating a student to states that met the legal requirements. All 50 states enacted state redundant plans for the education of disabled students (Morrissey, 1998). However, funding for special education quickly became a subject of controversy. Federal funding was increased to help offset special education programs—from $152 million in 28 1976 to more than $1 billion by 1982 (Rabe & Peterson, 1998)—but this fell short of the 40% promised. Green (1983) likens public policy to an instrument, crude and unrefined. IDEIA is a statute law created by the legislative branch of American government. It is the responsibility of the courts to interpret the meaning of statute law and create case law (Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002; Fiedler, 2000). These two very different sources of laws often create problems for those who are required to implement such laws. After P.L. 94- 142 was passed in 1975, access to FAPE was granted to disabled learners. In fact, IDEIA mandated schools to mainstream to the maximum extent appropriate (Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002). It is important to remember that Congress did not mandate mainstreaming, but an education in the LRE. Mainstreaming was a technique used to meet the criterion of LRE. Unfortunately, Congress did not define mainstreaming, and the 19805 saw numerous court cases attempting to define and clarify the term (Roncker v. Walter, 1983; Daniel RR. v. State Board of Education, 1989; Greer v. Rome, 1991) (Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002). Through these court cases and others, mainstreaming became the practice of removing a special education student from the classroom and educating him or her in a separate environment. Then, when and where appropriate, the student was mainstreamed back into general education in situations where the child could participate and perform at grade level. Unfortunately, such integration into general education took place primarily during lunch, recess, physical education, and art classes (Bateman & Bateman, 2002; Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002; Fiedler, 2000). The mainstreaming movement in the education of disabled students continued to segregate special education from general education. School leaders continued as they had in the 29 past, viewing special education as someone else’s responsibility. Students who disrupted the flow of general education classrooms were removed to isolated settings, so teachers were happy. Parents were still elated at gaining a public education for their disabled children. Yet special educators felt isolated from their general education counterparts because they had little in common with them (Osborne et al., 1993). The practice of mainstreaming was not questioned until 1993, when the family of an autistic child took the school to court. In Oberti v. Clementon, 1993, the school wanted to remove this disruptive youngster from the general education setting. However, the court held that “inclusion is a ‘right,’ not a privilege for a select few” (Bateman & Bateman, 2002, p. 2). This ruling marked a change in the practice of mainstreaming to that of inclusion. Nowadays, these two terms often are used interchangeably (Bateman & Bateman, 2002; Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002; F iedler, 2000), but they refer to different educational practices. Inclusion, in contrast to mainstreaming, is the practice of providing every support necessary for a disabled student to function successfully in the general education setting. Only when all available methods have failed will the student be pulled from the regular education room for instruction on a temporary basis in another setting. Therefore, integration is not a privilege to be earned, but a constitutional right of all students (Bateman & Bateman, 2002; Douvanis & Hulsey, 2002; Fiedler, 2000; J. D. Smith, 1998; J. O. Smith & Colon, 1998). Inclusion is the preferred method of educating special education students for three reasons (Bateman & Bateman, 2002). First, students with disabilities are educated with age-level peers. Second, pullout practices, such as mainstreaming, lead to the stigma of being different. Segregated classrooms perpetuate the notion that membership in a school 30 is based on achievement and that students must earn the right to belong. Special education students who are mainstreamed often learn that they “cannot belong until they learn a prerequisite set of skills. In essence, they must become normal before they can contribute to society” (Pazey, 1995, p. 303). Third, the amount of lost instruction time is minimized in inclusionary practices. Just as in the early stages of compulsory education, there were no automatic solutions to the growing problems that schools were experiencing. The IEP, which acted as the catalyst for school administrators to work more closely with parents, and the practice of mainstreaming and inclusion were unfamiliar and often controversial (Rabe & Peterson, 1998) for local educational agencies. Schools were required to change their traditional practices drastically in order to meet the mandates and to obtain funding (Rabe & Peterson, 1998). The response of most schools was to create another layer of bureaucracy within the districts. Many schools formed an office of special education to understand and comply with the mandates of IDEIA, the demands of parents, and the appropriate education of disabled students. History has shown that leadership in relation to special education operated from the structural-functionalist and the political-conflict paradigms with'business-industrial values, laws, court cases, rules, and regulations. Special education administrators are positioned at the apex of the hierarchy, and these personnel are thought of as “specialized experts who transmit to and communicate with parents/guardians according to rigid, disciplinary rules” (Doyle, 2002). But this solution begs the question if the intended outcome of years of advocacy, litigation, and legislation was to pass the responsibility for the education of disabled learners to a “specialist” in the field. Adding a specific administrator in charge of special education programs, students, 31 and parents gave building-principals another reason not to become involved. It was not until the passage of a federal law aimed at general education and the reauthorization of IDEIA in 2004 that the concept was finally brought home that a school leader is responsible for leading all of his or her charges, regardless of ability.- Accountability In January 2002, President George W. Bush signed into law the reauthorization of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, called the No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act. This bipartisan law in many ways mirrored special education legislation, from increased parental input to accountability. It may, in fact, have acted as the impetus that initiated the current change from a dual system to a unified one. The spirit of NCLB also began with the 19603 civil rights movement’s endeavor to cleanse the “stain on our democratic, egalitarian way of life” (Sykes, 2003, p. 4). Our nation attempted to right the wrongs that slavery had engendered generations before. President Lincoln may have abolished the practice of slavery and made all persons equal under the law, but society had continued to perpetuate the habit of segregation of minority, disabled, and disadvantaged learners. The legislation of NCLB had its roots in the historic report by the Commission on Excellence in Education entitled A Nation at Risk (1983). A Nation at Risk placed a great deal of emphasis on students’ performing to the best of their abilities, regardless of their race, social-economic status, or ability, and it began the evolution of achievement testing and standards-based reform. NCLB is the reauthorization of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) of 1965. ESEA, a component of President Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty, 32 funneled ftmding to poor schools with low student achievement. Subsequent reauthorization in 1994, known as the Improving America’s Schools Act (IASA), first legislated the importance of high standards for all students. The 1994 reauthorization had four other premises: (a) focus on teaching and learning; (b) partnership among families, communities, and schools; (c) flexibility and responsibility for student performance; and ((1) resources targeted at areas with the greatest needs. These themes still resound in NCLB and IDEIA. As does IDEIA, NCLB strives for equality, but at different levels of aggregation. Whereas IDEIA targets a smaller aggregate of students, NCLB encompasses all of our nation’s K-l2 learners. American education has taken productive measures, such as Title I, to help those in disadvantaged settings succeed, but still there remain struggling and failing students. NCLB forces educators to look within their own schools and to realize that they can no longer write off failing students--that they are responsible for those falling between the educational cracks under their own roofs, including those in special education. Accountability for student achievement, more freedom for states and communities, encouragement of proven educational methods, and increased choices for parents are the four pillars supporting the 2000 reform. The intention of NCLB is to help ensure that all students achieve and fulfill the promise of American education articulated by A Nation at Risk (1983, p. l ): “This promise means that all children by virtue of their own efforts, competently guided, can hope to attain the mature and informed judgment needed to secure gainful employment, and to manage their own lives, thereby serving not only their own interests but also the progress of society itself.” The reformers created four avenues through which to fulfill the promise: (a) stronger accountability of schools 33 and states for student learning, (b) increased flexibility for states and communities with federal dollars, (c) the use of scientifically based research methods, and ((1) increased voice of parents in their child’s education. The more than 40 references to NCLB in the 2004 reauthorization of IDEIA signal a strong attempt to align the two laws (Cortiella, 2004). IDEIA continues to support the inclusion of students with disabilities in local, district, and state assessments while mirroring the “highly qualified” requirements of NCLB, enabling IDEIA funds to be used for supplemental educational services as defined in NCLB, as well as for scientifically based research. Both laws have sanctions for noncompliance that can be levied at the district and state levels. The history of educating students with disabilities indicates that without such measures, special education would continue to operate in the shadows of general education. Administrators are now caught at the intersection of historical practices and litigation and legislation, between mandates and implementation. A President’s Commission on Excellence in Special Education charged in July 2002 that it is time for a new era for special education, a new era to revitalize special education for children and their families (Jones, 2002). But what does this era look like for administrators? How do those who are wedged between policy and public education effectively lead legislative, litigated, inclusive schooling for both disabled and non-disabled students? A Dual System and the Principal The increase in accountability measures brought forth by NCLB and IDEIA 2004 has reshaped school principals’ perceptions of their roles with regard to special education programs. Today’s principals play a pivotal role in the growth and achievement of students with disabilities (DiPaola & Tschannen-Moran, 2003; DiPaola & Walther- 34 Thomas, 2003; Katsyannis, Condennan, & Franks, 1996; NAESP, 2001; Williams & Katsiyannis, 1998). Furthermore, inclusion has become a “critical part of the reform effort to improve the delivery of services to students with disabilities” (Praisner, 2003, p. 135) over the past 20 years. Yet Praisner discovered that the majority of principals surveyed (76.6%) harbored an uncertainty with regard to inclusion. In the current literature, two main principal perceptions emerged and may help explain such ambivalence. First, many principals do not feel adequately prepared by their formal education and training (Burton, 2004; Farley, 2002; Monteith, 1994; Praisner, 2003; Sirotnik & Kimball, 1994). Second, they do not believe that they have the necessary specific knowledge to effectively lead special education (Davidson & Algozzine, 2002; Monteith, 1994). Prpparation More complex special education requirements brought forth by IDEIA, and girded by NCLB, have amplified principals’ need for tacit knowledge (Tucker & Tschannen-Moran, 2002). Institutions of higher education are in a logical position to ensure that principals have such necessary knowledge. However, current principals do not feel that their graduate programs have done that. Burton (2004) randomly sampled 150 elementary principals in Illinois. One hundred-seven of the sampled principals indicated that they did not believe that their administrative course work prepared them to lead special education programs effectively. Instead, they reported that their day-to-day experiences and on-the-job training were most beneficial. Aspedon (1992) also investigated the preparation of administrators. More than 40% of the principals in the study had no special education course work, whereas more 35 than 75% of those principals were responsible for supervising and evaluating special education teachers in their schools. More important, more than 85% of the principals thought that formal training in special education is critical for being a successful building ' principal. ’ The research that Monteith conducted in 1994 mirrored Aspedon’s findings. In 1993, the South Carolina State University Department of Educational Administration set out to determine the amount of necessary special education knowledge that principals currently possessed. Surveys were mailed to graduate students in educational administration throughout South Carolina, southern North Carolina, and northern Georgia, and 120 individuals responded to the survey. Seventy-five percent of the participants said they had no formal training in special education. However, 90% responded that such training was necessary to be an effective school leader, and 89% said they would be willing to take course work in special education. Sirotnik and Kimball’s (I994) meta-analysis of two national studies illuminated a possible reason for why principals perceived themselves as unprepared. In one study, 23 higher education institutions from eight states, 457 graduate students, and more than 200 faculty members were surveyed about the goals of their education programs. Both students and professors ranked special education goals in the bottom half of those goals. In his doctoral work, Farley (2002) discovered another possible reason for why institutions of higher education often rank special education as a low standing goal of their institution and why they do not adequately prepare principals to deal with special ' education issues. Farley interviewed faculty members at Tennessee universities and discovered that faculty members were inexperienced, untrained, and disinterested in 36 special education issues. Often they assumed that responsibility for teaching such courses lay with someone else and believed that faculty members’ choices of teaching assignments posed the largest barrier these necessary course offerings. Many professors, therefore, chose not to teach classes that would prepare future principals for special education administration, thinking that someone else in the department or college would do so. These findings indicate that the knowledge and courses provided at many colleges and universities do not keep pace with the changes reflected in the practice of K-1 2 administrators. Furthermore, few institutions of higher education offer administration certification in special education. Out of the 212 programs that were surveyed by Jones et al. (as cited in Lashley & Boscardin, 2003), 18 offered limited course work in special education administration, 21 offered certification-only programs, and only 11 offered full administrative special education degrees. Out of those 11, the special education department housed seven, two colleges granted a special education degree through the education administration department, and only two were jointly housed (Lashley & Boscardin, 2003). In a final report to Department of Education and the Office of Special Education and rehabilitative Services (ED/OSERS) in Washington, DC, Collins and White (2002) stressed the importance of preparation of principals: Preparing future educational leaders in special education issues cannot be an add-on program. The skill and knowledge areas need to be embedded into the curriculum. Otherwise, symbolically we continue to send the message that special education is a separate and exclusionary program. (p. 6) Knowledge The second perception of principals that perpetuates the uncertainty about inclusion and special education programs in general is that principals often think they 37 lack the necessary knowledge to effectively advocate for students with disabilities. With their deficit in preparation, it is not surprising that many current principals lack a firm understanding of special education laws. Osbourne et al. (1993) contended that special education functions as both a legal and an educational process by pointing out that, in the decade following P.L. 94-142, special education litigation outnumbered that of all other school laws combined. Clearly, administrators must possess a working knowledge of the laws. Davidson and Algozzine (2002) contended that successful management of special education results directly from the principal’s knowledge of special education law. Effective leadership depends upon the acquired knowledge and understanding that a principal has for law, policies, and regulations governing the system as well as a responsiveness that meets the need of the entire organization. Principals have a significant impact on the delivery of services for students with disabilities as a result of their knowledge of the laws that govern special education. (p. 47) In their 2002 survey of 264 building principals, assistant principals, interns, and lead teachers, Davidson and Algozzine discovered that 47.5% of the participants had a limited or basic knowledge of special education law. Women in the sample tended to have a better understanding of the law than did men. Of the women polled, 13.6% indicated they had a significant knowledge base, compared to only 3.1% of the men. A slightly larger percentage (43.3%) of women than men (37.5%) had a moderate understanding of special education law. A larger portion of men (50.0%) than women (28.4%) rated themselves as having only a basic knowledge of special education law. Monteith (1994) referenced previous studies that helped to furnish a possible reason why principals lack vital knowledge. Citing a 1991 study by Hirth and Valesky, Monteith wrote that only 27% of universities across the United States required 38 knowledge of special education law for regular administrator endorsements and that 57% of the endorsements offered by universities had no requirement that general education leaders possess any knowledge of special education law. The following year, Hirth and Valesky (as cited in Monteith, 1994) examined state requirements for certification endorsements of school administrators and discovered that only 33% of all regular administrator endorsements required a knowledge of special education law. The 1993 South Carolina State University Department of Educational Administration research (Monteith, 1994) indicated that the majority of the 120 participants’ knowledge of special education and issues such as law came from “on-the-job” experiences such as memoranda from central offices or state offices or from “making mistakes” (p. 9). “School principals and superintendents are now front line people and provision of inclusive schooling for children with disabilities takes their best administrative talents, effort, and creativity” (Weir, Hobbs, & Fiascki, 1999, p. 4). Principals’ perceptions of lack of preparation and knowledge about a growing population of learners will influence the perceptions of other members of the school system. A critical factor in the success of a program for students with disabilities is the principal’s attitude (Patterson et al., 2000; Witt & McLeod, n.d.). Witt and McLeod (n.d.) proposed that when a principal “publicly support[s]” special education, the school culture will mirror that positive attitude as well. Maintaining a positive attitude toward special education can pose a problem when all of the principal’s other responsibilities are taken into account. The increased paperwork and additional duties in relation to designing, leading, managing, and implementing programs for special education students as well as being the instructional leader for nontraditional learners place great responsibility in the hands of principals (Praisner, 2003). This 39 responsibility will impel the research community to apply theoretical lenses to help principals navigate the murky and uncharted waters of special education advocacy, as well as uncover hidden tensions that lie beneath the surface. Tensions Two major tensions emerge when principal advocacy for students with disabilities is viewed through two principal dilemmas: human resources and time management. This section provides an abbreviated overview of these dilemmas. Human resources. The objective of NCLB and IDEIA may have unintended consequences for special education. Currently, the field of special education is experiencing an increase of pupils three times greater than the general population. At the same time, more teachers leave the special education field than do their general education counterparts, creating a mass teacher exodus that has left 10% of the special education teaching positions filled by uncertified teachers (Muller & Markowitz, 2003). To compound this problem, NCLB and IDEIA have enacted statutes to ensure that highly qualified teachers instruct students with disabilities. Principals not only must wrestle with keeping special education positions filled, but they also must hire highly qualified personnel. Special educators cite the lack of administrative support as one of the reasons for the rapid attrition in their field (Sirk, 1999; Witt & McLeod, n.d.). In her doctoral study, Sirk investigated the relationship between administrative support and the levels of job satisfaction of special education teachers in West Virginia. “The findings of this study indicated the principals’ support does have a significant relationship with the extrinsic job satisfaction levels, or the conditions which surround 40 the job, of the special education teachers in West Virginia” (p. 173). The data indicated that as perceived principal support increased, the extrinsic job satisfaction of special education teachers increased as well. Witt and McLeod (n.d.) noted that when general education administrators support special education programs, teachers and students tend to perform better. Praisner (2003) conducted a study of principals’ attitudes towards inclusion. Her findings indicated that principals’ attitudes and values determined the level of support for special education. Principals who valued students with disabilities offered more support to the special education staff. Time management At one time, principals’ roles and responsibilities were “quite clearly, although narrowly, defined” (DiPaola & Walther-Thomas, 2003, p. 7). However, today’s principals must act as the instructional leaders for all students in Order to meet the high standards set forth in NCLB and IDEIA. The managerial tasks of the principal have also expanded because increased rules and regulations have resulted in more paperwork. Principals must maintain safe school environments, incorporate the demands of increased technology, meet the higher standards imposed by federal legislation, organize, and budget while also retaining highly qualified teachers and staying involved in their communities—all without losing sight of the need for increased student learning (Tucker & Tschannen-Moran, 2002). It is no wonder that principals “report that they lack time to be effective instructional leaders”(Tucker & Tschannen-Moran, 2002, p. 6). In their 2002 paper for the Commonwealth Educational Policy Institute, Tucker and Tschannen—Moran described the perceptions of time management among principals in Virginia. More than half of Virginia’s principals reported that they spent more time on 41 paperwork than they did just five years ago. Thirty percent reported spending more time in special education meetings than in previous years. Two thirds of the principals reported that they did not have the time or the staff to be effective instructional leaders. Ninety percent of Virginia’s principals reported special education law and its implementation as a highly significant organizational management problem. Findings from the authors’ examination of national studies echoed many of the same problems experienced in Virginia. Eighty-three percent of the nation’s principals reported an enormous increase in responsibilities due to federal legislation without having the resources necessary to fulfill them. Nationally, 71% of principals indicated that to free up time, delegating duties and responsibilities is imperative. Finally, 86% of principals nationally agreed that keeping up with federal mandates consumes too much time. Special education laws and mandates are a fact of life for principals, and they must find a way to effectively instruct and lead their schools. The demands on principals are not likely to subside any time soon. Therefore, future research into this situation should be anchored to two theoretical lenses, one personal and the other structural. CONCEPTUAL LENS Because special education remains a knotty conglomeratiorr of individualized education and legislative bureaucracy, it behooves us to examine this phenomenon’s underpinnings. One of these underpinnings is at the personal level, addressing the need to balance the human side of special education administration, known as the ethic of care, with the political side, the ethic of justice. The other underpinning of the phenomenon is Sensemaking. 42 Personal Anchor: The Ethics of Care and Justice The review of literature illustrated perceptions of a personal nature on the part of principals regarding a lack of both knowledge and preparation. Special education presents a conundrum for administrators in that it is highly relationship-oriented (ethic of care), yet highly political (ethic of justice). Applying the theoretical lenses of care and justice will help illuminate the personal anchor of this phenomenon. The following section will look at the ethics of care and justice in their “ideal forms” (Clement, 1996), their individual characteristics without relation to any other ethics, and then look at how these two ethics may function more effectively as an integrated ethic. The Ethic of Care The ethic of care emphasizes relationships and connections (Clement, 1996; Marshall, Patterson, Rogers, & Steele, 1996; Pazey, 1995; Stefkovich & O'Brien, 2004; Starratt, 1991; Vreeke, 1991). Gilligan (1982) first described the ethic of care as a feminine way of judging situations, a morality built upon the recognition of needs, relation, and response. Individuals who are guided by an ethic of care thoughtfully consider the context of each and every situation and refuse to ignore the potential impact of their decision making on others. (Marshall et al.,, 1996, p. 277) The ethic of care “is fundamentally concerned with how human beings meet and treat one another” (Noddings, 1993, p. 45), is “context-relative” (Vreeke, 1991), and is context specific (Clement, 1996). Clement (1996) cites Nodding’s (1984, 86) notion of contextuality be saying that “caring requires real encounters with and responses from individuals” (p.14). All “care judgments are somehow related to the well-being of persons in relationships” (Vreeke, 1991, p. 37) and it “begins with an assumption of human connectedness” (Clement, 1996, p.11). Clement (1996) states that the ethic of care 43 has “two interrelated priorities: maintaining one’s relationships and meeting of the needs of those to whom one is connected” (p. 14). The ethic of care operates within personal relations, omitting the public relations. For special education, the ethic of care is essential. Pazey (1995) quoted Noddings (1993) as saying: “One of the great strengths of caring as an ethic is that it does not assume that all students should be treated by some impartial standard of fairness. . . . Caregivers, therefore, respond in different ways to the different needs presented by cared- fors” (p. 302). Hence, the ethic of care is “an essential link to the successful administration of just and caring educational programs for students with disabilities” (Pazey, 1995, p. 298). Special education has a very human face. Schools, in essence, collaborate with students and parents to craft a contract that specifies the child’s education. The context surrounding the individual child shapes each decision. Devising an individual education plan (IEP) addresses issues such as accommodations and modifications to the general education curriculum, necessary services and therapies, and placement of the student within the school structure. An effective administrator must not only know about each area, but also have built and maintained relationships within each area. However, administrators’ past practices often have focused solely on fulfilling laws and mandates in order to avoid sanctions and lawsuits, resulting in the omission of the context and relationships in seeking compliance. Therefore, IEPs often have functioned as checklists and deviated little from one to another (Jones, 2002). Principals need to consider the context of the individual needs of students and their families when making decisions with regard to the education of students with disabilities and work to build such relationships. 44 The Ethic of Justice Principals must balance the educational rights of all students with the rights of students with disabilities. In doing so, administrators operate within the constraints of the law while implementing best practice for all students. Administrators, then, must also proceed from the ethic of justice when making decisions regarding students with disabilities. According to Gilligan, justice differs as a form of moral judgment from care (Vreeke, 1991). It stems from Kant’s ethics and is referred to as a Kantian ethic, (Clement, I996; Noddings, 1993) one were actions should be void of feelings. Justice is separate from the context, it takes an abstract approach and aids in impartiality (Clement, 1996). Fissures in a relationship create conflicts in the ethic of care, whereas in the ethic of justice, conflicts are viewed as disparities in rights and duties between individuals. The ethic of justice “begins with an assumption of human separateness” (Clement, 1996, p. l 1). Justice is concerned with rules and universality, whereby the problem is removed from the situated context (Vreeke, 1991). Justice involves more abstract concepts, such as fairness, equity, and justice (Clement, 1996: Stefkovich & O'Brien, 2004). The ethic of justice operates from public relations sphere and is banned from the personal relation sphere. Starratt (1991) noted that the ethic of justice develops from two schools of thought: “an individual choice to act justly and justice understood as the community’s choice to direct or govern its actions justly. In a school setting, both are required” (p. 193). He asserted that the ethic of justice “demands that the claims of the institution serve both the common good and the rights of the individuals in the school” (p. 194) and 45 “assumes the ability to perceive injustice in the social order as well as some minimal level of caring about relationships in that social order” (p. 198). While sitting at the IEP table, effective administrators of special education know and understand such issues as allocation of resources, staffing, and discipline, which will affect not only the children across the table fiom them, but the rest of the students in their building as well. These administrators then must remove themselves enough from the relationships that the ethic of care creates to make the best, yet individually specific, decisions. The ethic of justice demands that principals have a sound understanding of the philosophy and laws that govern special education. They must ensure that the school justly fulfills the mandates of Alternative Ethics or An Integrated Ethic? Noddings (1993), Vreeke (1991), Starratt (1991), and Clement (1996) distinguish that there are differences between the ethics of care and justice and have “defined them as alternatives to one another” (Clement, 1996, p. 11). These scholars, then, believe that the 2 ethics have distinct fields for application and contend that care is better suited for situations set in the personal sphere and justice for situations set in the public relations sphere. This view leads us to understand that principals, then, must choose which ethic they operate from, forsaking the other. However, Clement (1996) deviates from the “either or” concept because such thinking results in “uncaring forms of justice and unjust forms of care” (p. 2). Clement (1996) contends in her book, Care, Autonomy, and Justice, that if the ethic of care alone can lead to exaggerated individual interests while drawing attention away from “the general realities that structure those situations, and which require our attention for any significant change” (p. 112). If justice alone is applied, then only the large good is strived for without consideration of individual needs. 46 Though Clement (1996) does see the value in understanding the ethic of care or the ethic of justice as separate; she does not believe that they are mutually exclusive or dichotomous. She posits that care should not be consigned only to the personal sphere and justice only to the public because their priorities “over lap” (p. 21). “Properly understood, the ethic of justice requires not just abstract principals but contextual details as well. Likewise, the ethic of care requires not only contextual details but general principles as well” (Clement, 1996, p. 76). Rather, these two ethics should no longer be viewed as alternatives to each other, but rather as “complementary approaches” (p. 4) that creates “an integrated ethic” (p. 121). However, Clement (1996) cautions that the achievement of this integrated ethic is not done by the assimilation of care into justice. If the two ethics are simply assimilated, then care looses its equality with justice. Clement (1996) asserts that creating this integrated ethic or understanding care and justice as complementary approaches “can only be done by interpreting care through the perspective of justice” (p. 5). In essence, if the ethics of care and justice are integrated, they are no long relegated to their separate spheres, but rather “that they can jointly determined deliberation in public as well as personal context. By integrating them in that we use both ethics instead of merely on in any given situation, we acknowledge their interdependence and their distinctiveness” (Clement, 1996, p. 12]). Applying both ethics to any situation allows insights in ways that one ethic alone could not do (Clement, 1996). Principals who operate from an ethics of care and justice can perceive the context of students with disabilities needs and appropriately design the special education services 47 that are just and fair. In turn, principals will maintain the integrity of their school, meet the political mandates that constrain them while creating a caring school environment that best meets the needs of all students, disabled and non-disabled. Hence, the ethics of care and justice are “an essential link to the successful administration of just and caring educational programs for students with disabilities” (Pazey, 1995, p. 298). It is through the application of this “integrated ethic” that principals begin to make sense of advocacy. Sensemaking Sensemaking is the act of making something sensible (Weick, 1995). It is a process through which unknowns, or “surprises,” are “construct[ed], filter[ed], frame[d]...and render[ed] . . . into something more tangible (Weick, 1995, p. 14). Sensemaking has groundings in both individual and social activity and has seven characteristics: grounded in identity construction, retrospectivity, enactive of sensible environments, social, ongoing, focused on and by extracted cues, and driven by plausibility rather than accuracy. Sensemaking is Grounded in Identity Construction Identities are fluid and constructed socially by the environment and members of that environment. Our interactions in and among our social environment shape our self- identities, and our self-identities shape our environment. The reaction to and shaping of our environment occurs simultaneously. Our understandings of our selves shift due to various interactions, our definition of which we are changes with what is experienced, and our understanding of experiences shifts depending on our definition of our self. Making sense of a situation or incident must start with a self-conscious sensemaker; individuals must be aware of the environment’s influence on them as well as their 48 influence on the environment. “What the situation means is defined by who I become while dealing with it or what and who I represent” (Weick, 1995, p. 24). Sensemaking has an Element of Retrospectivity Much of sensemaking rests on the principle of retrospectivity. This draws from Schultz’s (1967) “analysis of ‘meaningful lived experience’” (Weick, 1995, p. 24). The past tense of “lived experience” is purposeful because we can know what we are doing only as we are doing it. Retrospect helps answer the question, “How do I know what I’ve done until I see what I’ve done?” This examination of our actions entails a lag time because our understanding comes only after we have acted. Factoring into this situation is the fact that what is currently happening will influence our understanding of what just happened. Retrospectivity is complicated by the possibility of analyzing our actions and coming up with too many meanings, not too few. These multiple meanings are generated by the various “projects” that “are under way at the time reflection takes place” (Weick, 1995, p. 27). These projects also influence or bias our understanding and sensemaking. To deflect such bias, Weick (1995) recommended keeping three things in mind. First, there is a short time span between action and reflection, so only a small number of projects will be recalled. Second, recalling the past only clarifies that past; it does not erase the past altogether. Finally, the “feeling of order, clarity, and rationality is an important goal of sensemaking, which means that once this feeling is achieved, further retrospective processing stops” (p. 29). But it is the skill of reflection, while understanding that the present colors our understanding of our past, which aids in making sense of recent actions. 49 Sensemaking is Enactive of Sensible Environments Enactment is “the activity of ‘making’ that which is sensed” (Weick, 1995, p. 30). According to this principle, the environment is not a static, detached unit, but rather something that interacts with the participants in it. In essence, people create their own environment through the process of identity construction and retrospectivity and then, in turn, are constrained by the very same environment. Because of this, people create their own restrictions and opportunities alike. They “create and find what they expect to find” (Weick, 1995, p. 35). A phenomenon of enactment is bracketing, the categorization of things that we give our attention to as a way to create a structural order. Sensemaking is Social “Sensemaking is never solitary because what a person does internally is contingent on others” (Weick, 1995, p. 40). People are continuously and actively shaping each other’s meanings and sensemaking through talk, discourse, and conversations because language is humans’ form of communication and hence our means of making sense of things. Other people influence our environment, which we now know is not static, but fluid. Their shaping of our environment influences how we then perceive it. The interactions between and among people influence our ability to think retrospectively because what is happening now will modify how we reflect on past events. People even have an effect on our identity construction because it is the interactions with others that shape our perceptions of ourselves. Meaning is socially constructed and cannot be achieved in isolation. 50 S_efiemaking is On-going Weick (1995) argued that sensemaking never truly starts because people are constantly doing; they are continuously engaged in various “projects.” Rather, we experience “throwness” (p. 44), in which we are repeatedly thrown into various situations that require sensemaking of us. The “projects” that we are engaged in color our sensemaking because it is the elements particular to a project that we choose to focus on and see. Weick also argued that sensemaking is influenced by emotions and that retrospect is “mood congruent.” As a linear equation, sensemaking begins when one is involved in a “project” that is interrupted. This interruption creates an emotional response in the form of arousal. The arousal can be either positive (when outcomes of the interruption accelerate the completion of the project), or negative (when the project is slowed or thwarted). These emotions, then, will color our sensemaking. Sensemaking is Focused On and By Extracted Cues Extracted environmental cues can be thought of as seeds, simple and familiar structures that people use to begin to formulate an understanding of what is happening. These seeds can act as the starting point to make sense. What this seed develops into is based largely on the context in which it is found. Building on the social principle, context is critical for sensemaking because the context is social. These cues are what impel action in people, and success is explained by what we do, not what we plan to do. Paying attention to and learning to understand such clues help us slow down sensemaking and see the process, not just the product. 51 Sensemaking is Driven By Plausibility Rather Than Accuracy As we come full circle, the accuracy of our sensemaking is a non-issue. Weick (1995) said that it is not how accurate we were in making sense of an event that is important, but rather how plausible our sensemaking is. Weick listed eight reasons why plausibility is the focus of sensemaking. First, making sense of an object or event may be rife with errors. Often misconceptions are beneficial if they lead to action and the pursuit of goals previously thought to be unattainable. Second, “sensemaking is about the embellishment and elaboration of a single point of reference or extracted cue” (Weick, 1995, p. 57). With multiple meanings, understanding the issue or the event is more than likely impossible. Understanding the issue or event is plausible. Third, actions usually are time sensitive, so speed is traded for accuracy. Fourth, accuracy maintains the spotlight for just a short amount of time. Fifth, organizations and reality are socially constructed, with reliance on interpersonal and interdependent interactions. Focusing on such intangible perceptions makes it difficult to achieve accuracy. Rather, the focus should be on object perception. Sixth, “accuracy is project specific and pragmatic” (Weick, 1995, p. 59). With multiple projects taking place concurrently, accuracy is not the best aim to have. Weick’s (1995) seventh reason is based on action and accuracy can immobilize people from acting because those aiming for action tend to simplify rather than elaborate. The eighth reason is that “it is almost impossible to tell, at the time of perception, whether the perceptions will prove accurate or not” (Weick, 1995, p. 60) because our perceptions are based on shifting and changing realities. For these reason, plausibility takes precedence over accuracy. 52 SUMMARY History has shown that advocacy for students with disabilities have advanced in the past 100 years. Various legislative and court cases have help establish the foundation from which our current educational policy is built upon. Federal legislations have become more closely aligned than ever before, however, principals still are educational leaders for a dual system: general and special education. Research shows that many principals are not properly prepared and feel that they lack the knowledge in relation to leading special education, resulting in two large tensions: human resources and time management. The theories of the ethic of care, the ethic of justice and sensemaking act as conceptual lenses to view the phenomena at hand. 53 CHAPTER 3 METHODOLOGY “T he wisest mind has something yet to learn. ” ~ George Santayana INTRODUCTION My purpose in conducting this study was twofold: (a) to add to a small but growing body of qualitative, in particular phenomenological, inquiry focused on the work of school principals as they address special education needs, and (b) to offer some insight for current school principals who are struggling to do the best for all children, special and general education students alike. According to the literature reviewed for this study, lack of preparation explains why principals may find it difficult to advocate for students with disabilities. Missing from the literature are school principals’ own stories of advocacy. Their voices, which is considered vital to the success of students with disabilities (DiPaola & Tschannen-Moran, 2003; DiPaola & Walther-Thomas, 2003; Katsiyannis et al.,; NAESP, 2001; Williams & Katsiyannis, 1998) are eerily silent in the literature. As a reminder, the exploratory question that drives this study is: How do elementary building-level principals make meaning of and enact special education policies to create caring learning environments for students with disabilities? Sub questions are as follows: 1. How do (if they do) elementary school principals make meaning of “advocacy” ? 2. To what extent and through what concrete forms does “advocacy” translate into practice? Who benefits from “advocacy”? 3. What can we learn that has policy and practice implications? What can higher education learn from these findings? 54 Methodology and Design The nature of the exploratory questions and the phenomenon they are intended to elucidate naturally lend themselves to the use of qualitative inquiry methods. Because the qualitative approach focuses on process, it is the best vehicle to identify and describe complexities in understanding how principals engage in their work to support (or not) programs for students with disabilities. Rationale for a Phenomenological Study Qualitative inquiry follows a constructivist or interpretivist paradigm (Glesne, 1999). Within this paradigm, both the participants and the researcher socially construct reality. Reality, not a single fact, becomes something built collaboratively and changes due to the various perceptions. Glesne explained that researchers must attempt to access and understand the multiple perspectives held by the participants and culture of the site. As Peshkin (1993) pointed out in his article “The Goodness of Qualitative Research,” the aim of such research is not to arrive at “truth” that may derive from a tested hypothesis, but to seek understanding of a given phenomenon. Within qualitative inquiry, this study is best framed as a phenomenological study. Phenomenology is concerned with the experiences of individuals and the meaning they construct from those experiences. My focus is mainly existential in nature. Through data collection, rich description emerged on how principals shape their existence as leaders of inclusive schools by how they navigate their work that is focused on special education and general education issues. Because phenomenological studies are undertaken in an attempt to accurately portray phenomena from the perspective(s) of those who actually experience them, in this study I will paint a picture of how principals make meaning of 55 special education policies and how they work to create an educational system that benefits students with disabilities. As such, this study requires the participants to be active and reflective in the research process. Therefore, we need to hear the voices of the principals as they make decisions (or not) on behalf of students with disabilities. The most effective way to give voice to the participants and create a rich description of the phenomenon is by conducting a case study. Use of Case Study The majority of studies reviewed for this research used quantitative mail surveys or a combination of personal interviews and surveys (Burton, 2004; Collins & White, 2002; Davidson & Algozzine, 2002; Katsiyannis et al., 1996; Lashley & Boscardin, 2003; Livingston, Reed, & Good, 2001; Monteith, 1994; Sirotnik & Kimball, 1994). Two studies (DuF our, Eaker, & Karhanek, 2004; Farley, 2002) used multiple case studies, interviews, and documentation, whereas one (Collins & White, 2002) used visits and portfolios to gather data. In this study, I used a case study format to present the principals’ understanding of their work with special education students. To fully comprehend this phenomenon, making sense of principals’ work for students with disabilities, a case study approach was appropriate for at least two reasons. First, case studies can act as the middle ground between research strategies (Greene & David, 1981). In the present investigation, the case study approach yielded the necessary insights while filling the void in the literature by providing information on the context in which principals currently are working. It is not enough to merely hear from the principals; we must be transported to the school that they lead to truly understand what advocacy looks like in each of their cases. Second, 56 case studies work best when used to understand a contemporary issue. As mentioned in the review of literature, Congress and federal, state, and local legislation currently are moving accountability for the social and academic performance of students with disabilities into the hands of the building administrator, something that has begun to take precedent in the 21st century. Sampling The primary sampling technique for this study was through a convenience process that began with recommendations from the Special Education Director of the Hampton Intermediate School District (HISD). I asked the director to identify elementary principals in 12 local districts, located geographically convenient to me, whom she considered to be attentive to the needs of student, and in particular the needs of students with disabilities. To help me identify a pool of possible participants, I asked Hampton’s ISD special education director the following questions: 0 Do you know of elementary principals in your district whom you would consider strong leaders for all students, including those with disabilities? 0 Do you consider them to be knowledgeable about special education laws and involved in the special education component of their schools? In addition, principals had to have (I) held a teaching position before becoming an elementary school principal; and (2) held the principalship for a minimum of three years. These two requirements helped to ensure that these were veteran principals with experience addressing special education needs. Also, principals who had previous classroom experience, I believed, would be aware of the implementation of special education policies in the classroom. Furthermore, participants with a minimum of 3 57 years of educational leadership experience would be familiar with special education policy demands and the rules and regulations that constrict special education programs. My dissertation chair, to ensure that I had a strong pool of potential participants, reviewed the list of potential participants given to me by the ISD’s director. After contacting each of the principals on the list, 4 originally agreed to participate in the study. Shortly into the research, one principal had to excuse herself from the study due to an increase of central office duties. The 3 principals that remained appeared to be diverse in person and school context while still meeting the lower end of my participant sample. An attempt to recruit an ethnically diverse participant pool was taken, however, the majority of the principals at Hampton ISD are Caucasian. Therefore, there are no minority voices represented in this study. However, the sample population did include 2 males and 1 female principal. Name Years as Years Age Range Highest Principal teaching Degree Range Tracy Showers 15Jrlus 12 45-60 Ed.S Jack Smith 5 plus 6 30-40 M.A. Joe Murchie 3 plus 5 3040 MA. Table 3.1 Principal Demographics Use of Ethnographic Strategies To build a deeply rich phenomenological study, ethnographic strategies of data collection and analysis were necessary. The primary data-collection methods used in this study were Photovoice, on-line discussion threads, one-on-one interviews with the school principals, one day of shadowing each principal, and one focus group (with key school stakeholders) at each school. The data collection began in October of 2006 with the submission to UCHRIS for human subject approval. Between January and March of 58 2007, I conducted the initial principals interviews, Photovoice, and on-line discussion thread. One-on-One Photovoice Discussion Date of Interviews Process Thread Shadowing Conversations Cline January 10, January 10 thru March 7 thru January 10, 2007 March 1, 2007 April 1,2007 2007 Ravenswood January 18, January 18 thru March 7 thru January 18, 2007 March 1, 2007 April 1, 2007 2007 Merryvale February 19, February thru March March 7 thru February 19, 2007 1, 2007 April 1, 2007 2007 Table 3.2 Data Collection Dates During January and February of 2007, I conducted the focus group interviews at each school. Focus Group Dates Number of Participants Cline January 22, 2007 4 Ravenswood February 8, 2007 3 Merryvale February 26, 2007 4 Table 3.3 Focus Group Dates In-depth, One-on-One Interviews In—depth, one-on-one interviews, began the data collection. All interviews were 90 minutes in length, audio taped, transcribed, and manually coded after each session. Notes from each interview were kept in a field-book specific for that school and principal. Conducting the interviews not only allowed me to establish rapport with the participants, it also served as an introduction to and set-up of the Photovoice process. Through the interviews, the context of each of the participants was developed, their voices heard, and their thoughts better understood. Through a series of open-ended questions, I garnered information on the identity of each participant. 59 I chose to interview and observe because of Weick’s (1995) assertion that sensemaking is grounded in identity construction and has a reciprocal relationship with the environment. It is, then, critical to understand the environment in which the principals operated. Sensemaking is social. The interactions and discourses principals have directly affect how they perceive information and how they make decisions. Espoused theories were gathered in the interviews, but the observations also uncovered theories in action and provided first-hand information on principals’ reactions to “throwness” (Weick, 1995) discussed in Chapter 2. Through the interviews data on what the principals knew about special education law and policies, how they initially made sense of what they did and did not do, and where they believed tensions existed when working for the benefit of all students laid a solid foundation on which to build the thick description of what they did and to better understand the data generated through Photovoice. The data helped to triangulate what the principals wrote, reflected, and discussed during the Photovoice process and helped me to better understand the information that the school stakeholders shared. Dav of Shadowing Coupled with the interview was a day of shadowing each principal. Notes from my day of shadowing were kept in a field-book specific to each principal and school. Spending the day shadowing each principal added to the rich description necessary to construct a complete picture of the context, as well as allowing me to gather artifacts and documentation. Through observations made throughout the day of shadowing, I garnered information on the identity of each participant through their actions and interactions with 60 those around them. This data helped, as well, to triangulate the data collected in the interviews, focus groups, and through the Photovoice process. Photovoice Photovoice was the primary data-collection tool for this study. Originally developed by Dr. Caroline Wang from the University of Michigan, Photovoice is a reflective, narrative tool that “provides a glimpse into [participants’] social realities and provides insights into related broader community and cultural narratives” (Foster- Fishman, Nowell, Deacon, Nievar, & McCann, 2005, p. 277) and an avenue for “understanding the meaning and significance behind lived experience” (p. 277). As such, Photovoice projects are credited with bringing breadth and depth to understanding community concerns that would not be achievable with surveys or quantitative data (Wang, 2005). The strength of Photovoice is that research is conducted by and with the participants instead of on them, thus providing a deeper understanding of the participants’ lived experiences. Photovoice is a powerful, flexible, and reflective tool; it is also complex. The basic steps in the process are as follows: 0 Participants take pictures that represent events, activities, and issues around a given topic/subj ect that they experience in their daily lives. 0 Participants select and reflect on pictures that best capture their meaning. Queries are used to help participants probe deeper into their own thinking. 0 Participants engage in discourse with other participants in order to share their stories, dive in to underlying meanings, and discover themes and theories generated by the photographs. 0 The stories are documented and disseminated. 61 The steps taken in this study are as follows: 0 Framing questions (listed below) were created to serve as guidelines for participants to take photographs, select photographs, and reflect on those photographs. ' o Principals took photographs. At an initial interview, participants were given disposable cameras, directions for the project, the framing questions, and subject release forms. 0 The cameras were collected; the pictures were then developed and posted to an Internet weblog. o Principals were given a series of prompts via e-mail to reflect on their pictures and post their responses to the weblog. 0 The group discussion thread began with prompts from me (listed below). Photovoice Framing Questions: 1. What special education programs do 1 have that meet IDEIA policy? 2. What roles and/or responsibilities do I have in regards to special education? 3. What tensions do I struggle with as an inclusive leader? Group Discourse Questions: 1. What are gaps or tensions are common to all participants? 2. What things concern you when working with special education and disabled students? 3. What forms does advocacy take? 4. What can we learn from each other? Focus-Group Discussion A focus group was held at each school. As a dynamic and reflexive research tool, focus groups not only aid in building a richer, more descriptive case study, they also help to illuminate the social aspects of sensemaking within a specific environment. Each focus-group session consisted of a 60-minute discussion with 2 to 3 general educators 62 and 1 special education professional. Including these members of the school community in the study helped create a robust understanding of the phenomenon, but most importantly helped to both triangulate as well as challenge my interpretations. Names of possible focus-group participants were gathered from each principal at our first meeting. I then invited all identified professionals to volunteer to participate. Each focus group was video- and audio- taped, and the audiotapes were transcribed. Protocols of all interviews and focus groups may be found in Appendix A. Organizing, Analyzing, and Synthesizing the Data In qualitative research, as compared to quantitative studies, data analysis does not have “fixed formulas or cookbook recipes to guide the novice” investigator (Yin, 2003, p. 110). The large amount of data that a phenomenological study can generate often creates difficulty in data management and categorization. However, a solid structure of analysis helps in making sense of the data. Moustakas’s (1994) Phenomenological Research Methods guided the following sequence of activities for data analysis: 0 Field notes of my observations, thoughts, and hypotheses were kept as I interviewed, shadowed, worked with the principals through the Photovoice process, and conducted the focus group interview 0 Extraneous responses, e.g., “The ball was dropped on testing those kids,” were followed up if they were relevant to the exploratory questions. 0 Next, the data were grouped into “meaning units” (Creswell, 1998, p. 150) and coded. 0 Finally, a composite of each case was crafted to capture the essence of the experience. Trustworthiness The following actions were taken in order to ensure that the data collected and reported where considered to be trustworthy. Guba and Lincoln (1994) believed that 63 qualitative studies are framed by credibility, transferability, dependability, and confirmability. These characteristics of trustworthiness have “parallel criteria” (Lincoln & Guba, 2000) in quantitative research of internal validity, external validity, reliability, and objectivity. Credibility. 1 utilized 4 strategies to help ensure that the perceptions of the 3 principals in this study were close to reality; close examination of photographs taken by the participants, observations from times I was in each building, data collected from the members of the focus group, and a panel of reviewers that examined my interpretations. The panel included my committee chair and an outside editor. Transferability. Marrow (2005) notes that because of small sample sizes in qualitative research, it is important not to imply generalizability to other populations, rather it is up to the reader to generalize how the findings to his or her own context. “ This is achieved when the researcher provides sufficient information about the self (the researcher as instrument) and the research context, processes, participants. . .to enable the reader to decide how the findings may transfer” (Marrow 2006, p. 252). Through the detailed contextual background of the community and the participants, the carefully thought out methods, a sampling of diverse settings and social-economical status, and a review of my position as researcher in the following section and in Chapter 6, readers could begin to see similarities between these case studies and others. 64 Dependability. The quantitative “parallel criteria” for dependability is reliability. Marrow (2005) believes that an “audit trail” that chronicles the research activities develops a study’s dependability (see Tables 3.2 and 3.3). For data management, each principal had their own files complete with print outs of transcriptions from individual interviews and focus groups. Pictures and narratives from each principal were kept in the files, as well as field notes and documents gathered at site visits. I used memoing as a form of initial coding. After I transcribed all the conversations myself, I read them aloud, noting common themes. These common themes became my first set of codes from which I viewed the data. The data was then viewed through the conceptual framework. From this, individual statements by participants in the one-on-one interview, focus groups, and narrative pieces were extracted and classified into categories, including tensions, ethic of care, ethic of justice, and sensemaking. Finally, as part of my memoing, directly after each site visit, I described my observations and the context in which I spent my time within my field-book. Confirmability. Marrow (2005) states that “confirmability (vs. objectivity) is based on the acknowledgement that research is never objective” (p. 252). It is the goal of confirmability to see that the actual experiences and circumstances are being represented rather than the researchers biases. Many of the same strategies used to show dependability also support the confirmability of a study (Marrow, 2005). In addition to my “audit trail” described in the dependability section, careful cross referencing of claims 65 I made with the data I have collected has been done by myself, my committee chair, and to some extent, my outside editor. Role of the Researcher - “Qualitative research is inexorably linked to the human being as researcher” (Meloy, 2002, p. 108). To ensure an unbiased representatibn of the data, it behooves researchers to understand their “subjective I” (Glesne, I999). The “subjective 1” lens is one through which the researcher looks at the research topic, participants, culture, site, and data. Often it is full of bias and personal sentiment. By being aware of those elements and monitoring any subjectivity or bias, researchers can strengthen their studies by inquiring into their perspectives and interpretations inorder to re-examine their assumptions (Glesne, 1999). ,9 Three “subjective 1’s came into play in this research: personal, administrative, and change agent. The first “subjective 1” field is fairly large and encompassing. It is personal because I work in the special education field and eXperience some discomfort in relation to NCLB and IDEIA 04. However, from my personal experiences, I am concerned with the fair treatment of special—needs students and the involvement by the general education administration. Second, in pursuing my goal of working as a special education administrator, I wanted to examine the phenomenon through this lens. Understanding my assumption of how principals advocate for students with disabilities now may help in my future interactions with principals. Finally, I believe that a special education director can be a change agent. But to enact effective reform, the change agent must be informed about all sides of the issue/problem at hand. Understanding how principals make sense of their experience, whether they advocate for students with 66 disabilities, how they advocate, and what limits their advocacy will aid me as a special education administrator. Looking from my present standpoint, there is one area of ethical concern. Ironically, I believe I could easily fall into the advocate role myself. Glesne (1999) noted that the advocate “champions a cause” and has trouble walking away from the subject while striving for a solution. This inquiry was designed as an exploratory study to better understand principals and their advocacy for students with disabilities. As such, there is no one correct solution to discover or champion. Limitations In this study, I aimed to understand how principals navigate tensions that arise from leading a dual system to create caring learning environments and whether any of these actions are a form of advocacy for students with disabilities. The sample size was small, but the richness in understanding came from the participants’ own perceptions, using their own words. However, Lincoln and Guba (1985) cautioned qualitative researchers about the limitations and weaknesses that interviewing can entail, including bias. Bias could have occurred during the development of the protocols, how participants were asked the questions, or the interviewer’s nonverbal reactions to the participants’ answers. As with any probing into human subjects’ perceptions, participants may have chosen to engage in limited and defensive discourse. In Robert Flumer’s “A Conversation with Chris Argyris: The Father of Organizational Learning (1998) Argyris referred to this as Model 1 discourse. In such communication, participants often say only what they think is expected of them and what the culture of their organizations deems appropriate. The communication is guarded, and participants attempt to “save face.” 67 Establishing a strong, trusting rapport with each principal and enlisting their cooperation combated these potential limitations. 68 CHAPTER 4 PRESENTATION OF DATA: SPECIAL EDUCATION THROUGH THE LENS OF THREE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PRINCIPALS Biographical data, even those recorded in the public registers, are the most private things one has, and to declare them openly is rather like facing a psychoanalyst. ~Italo Calvino INTRODUCTION My purpose in this study was to explore how elementary principals make sense of special education and to what extent they advocate for students with disabilities within their buildings. From this study I hope to (a) to add to a small but growing body of inquiry focused on the roles and work of school principals as they address special education needs in their settings and (b) to offer insights for current school principals who are struggling to do the best for all children, special and general education students alike. One overarching exploratory question and four sub questions grounded this emergent study. The overarching question was: How do elementary building-level principals make meaning of and enact special education policies to create caring learning environments for students with disabilities? Sub questions were as follows: 1. How do (if they do) elementary school principals make meaning of “advocacy”? ‘ 2. To what extent and through what concrete forms does “advocacy” translate into practice? Who benefits from “advocacy”? 3. What can we learn that has policy and practice implications? What can higher education learn from these findings? In this chapter I describe the setting and present data gathered from the school principals at Cline Elementary, Ravenswood Elementary, and Merryvale Elementary 69 schools in the Hampton Intermediate School District (HISD). Table 4.1 gives background on each of the principals, their self-rating of their knowledge of special education on a scale from 0 to 10, with 0 representing little to no knowledge, and their involvement in special education processes such as IEPs and Child Study Teams. The matrix is intended to be used as a reference of comparisons and contrasts between the principals. E r”. 8 g. i. “a E g; = _ v 0- >3 7‘: "5 “5 .E- g 3’» g E ‘3 '3 .2- - t: o 3E” 53 ‘53:? '8 355m 9 8 '5 ° .9 .1: ‘9 ’5: ‘r B ‘8 0 = '3 '5 E .5 = 5 E0 E a E ‘- "-' a as a a E a a. :2 U c: z 8 2 it B .3. m m < a. U E- Tracy Cline F M.A. 12 19 8 Yes Yes Showers Jack Smith Ravenswood M M .A. 3 4 7 Yes Yes Joe Merryvale M M.A. 6 4 5 Yes Yes Murchie Table 4.1 School Principal Matrix (one-on-one interviews, January 10, 18 and February 19, 2007) All three principals who participated in the study worked in districts that belonged to Hampton ISD, 1 of 57 in the state. An ISD is a regional educational service agency created by the state legislature in 1962 to provide services and programs, which enhance efficiency and economy for local school districts, as well as compile statistical data about local schools for the state. Over the course of the past decade, the unique roles of ISDs have been adapted to include increased calls for educational accountability. For example, ISDs are taking an active role in helping member districts understand, comply with, and implement the standards required under the complex federal No Child Left Behind (NCLB) act and the state accreditation system. They also build and sustain local 70 partnerships and share credible research on the importance of early childhood care and education. The amount and richness of data generated in a qualitative study require effective organization. Through gradual analysis, which included coding and classification, comparison and contrast, and recoding and revising, particular understanding of how the three school principals defined their approach to special education began to take shape. Bounding the study is key to presenting detailed information; hence, to ensure that the meaning of their perspective is thoroughly presented within the context of their situation, the vignettes are designed as an inverted pyramid. The larger context is funneled down to shape the apex, and it is from the apex, in this case the three principals, that we begin to discover the answers to the research questions. The description and discussion of the setting is organized as follows: - Introduction and overview of Hampton ISD, to build an understanding of the context in which the principals and their schools operate (FactFinder, US. Census Bureau). - A matrix comparing each school’s district information to show differences and similarities in ethnic make-up, household income, and the Michigan Education Assessment Program (MEAP) scores (US. Census Bureau, 2000; MDE). - An overview of special education service models to use as a reference for understanding each school’s special education program (personal reflections, conversations with special educators with in the district). - Context of the specific town in which each school is situated, to begin formulating a picture of the individual schools (day of shadowing, field notes, one-on-one interviews, focus groups). - Introduction to the schools, including their MEAP scores (MDE). - Overview of the schools’ special education delivery programs, so as to begin learning about the views of students with disabilities in the words of those who service them (day of shadowing, focus groups, one-on-one interviews, field notes). To understand advocacy and tensions, we need to understand the successes 7l and failures that the school community has experienced with regard to special education programs. - Finally, at the apex of the inverted pyramid is the principal. More knowledge about the three school leaders, not only through their words, but also through their eyes are offered here. This part includes pictures that the principals took and selected as representative of their thinking and experience with regard to students with disabilities (one-on-one interviews, Photovoice, focus groups, principal reflections, field notes). Once the context is presented, the voices of the three principals are added creating a symphony of harmony and discord as they pull together the common themes and tensions represented in their photographs and narratives. THE SHAPE AND FORM OF THE SETTING The Intermediate School District Hampton ISD, situated in the middle of a mid-western state, covers 559 square miles and services 12 school districts, ranging from urban to rural. Hampton County is the home to 276, 898 people (FactFinder, US. Census Bureau). The population of Hampton County is primarily white (81.5%). Only 11% are African American and 5.9% are of Hispanic origin. Sixty percent of the people living in Hampton County own their homes, having a median value of $98,000 (FactFinder, US. Census Bureau, 2000). The median household income is $40,994, falling about $6,000 below the state’s median income (F actFinder, US. Census Bureau, 2003). In 2005, roughly 22.6% of Hampton’s population was school age (1 8 and below), and the graduation rate in 2000 was 88.1% (FactFinder, US. Census Bureau, 2006). In 2006, 43,482 people ages 5 and older residing within the Hampton ISD boundaries had a disability (FactFinder, US. Census Bureau, 2006). 72 The staff at Hampton ISD, 350 in all, service 12 schools, including public school academies, within the Hampton County limits. They offer specialists in curriculum development, technology, and a host of professional development areas, as well as a speech and language therapist, school social workers, and visual- and hearing- impaired students. It also houses and runs the vocational programs that are partnered with the local university and community college, as well as an alternative high school for students with serious behavioral disorders. The Three Schools ’ Contexts The three Hampton ISD schools included in this study were Cline Elementary, part of Paris Public Schools; Ravenswood Elementary, part of Madrid Public Schools; and Merryvale, part of Essex Community Schools. Pseudonyms are used for all schools and the principals. Staff and students are not referred to by name, but rather by title, either their job title or disability designation. The following table (Table 4.2) compares and contrasts the three towns’ contexts as taken from census data, the state assessment scores from 2006, and the special education services that each school offers. The three schools’ demographics, educational achievements, and special education service models are compared and contrasted in Table 4.2. A more complete description of special education service styles is provided in Figure 4.1 73 g = 2 . .. .2 3 a 5 m— 5 o g :3 5.; E g .g'gglglftg 8 15:35"; EE g 3: 383<= <2: :4 < 3 < < m < 3rd 98% 88% 94% 87% 75% 52% 94% 79% Grade 4‘h 93.8% 85% 93.7% 85% 66.3% 45% 92.6% 78% Grade 5‘r 93.5% 76% 94.4% 84% 73.8% 57% 93.5% 78% 94.4% 83% Grade Figure 4.2 Cline’s 2006 MEAP Scores: Percentage Met or Exceeded Standards (Department of Education, 2007) Special Education Service Delivery Of the 410 students who attend Cline, 11% have disabilities. One special education resource teacher and one teacher consultant (TC) work at Cline full time. Cline shares a school social worker (SSW) with the other two elementary schools in the district, as well as a speech and language therapist, who is in the building 3 days a week. The resource teacher and the TC split duties in assessment of students and often work in tandem with one another on various students. For the most part, the students with disabilities are serviced in their natural setting, the classroom, as much as possible. However, roughly 20 students are pulled from the general education setting for specific instruction in either math or English language arts (ELA). Cline does not run any self- contained or basic programs (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007; focus group January 22, 2007). A review of data, data reveals that Cline has made some structural changes to better accommodate the various disabilities represented. For example, the Speech and Language Impaired (SLI) provider’s office has been moved next to the main office to 77 maximize student therapy time. The SL1 therapists in each of the 3 schools have small amounts of time and large numbers of students to see in multiple buildings (focus groups, January 22, 2007; one-on-one interviews, January 10, 2007). Cline’s principal had made it a priority to carve out space for the SL1 teacher so that she could keep her materials in one place and the students had a definite place where they knew they were going to meet (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). Another structural change that shows how Cline, lead by the principal, responds to the needs of its students is the addition of an autistic child to the school. A 4’h-grade boy with a host of behavioral and educational needs transferred to Cline fi'om a Chicago school. Seeing the need for a space that was free from distracters, where this student and others could “cool down” and work through behavior modifications, space was again carved out within the school’s limited floor plan. Although space is limited and highly sought after at Cline, the principal had prioritized these two services and was committed to keeping those spaces (one-on one interview, January 10, 2007; field notes; focus group, January 22, 2007). Through the site observation, one-on-one interview, and focus group interview we learned that a majority of the disabled students at Cline were educated within the general education classroom and received as much special education support in that setting as possible. Although they had enough staff and resources to run more pullout classes, it was a conscious decision on the behalf of the majority of the teachers and the principal, to educate students in an inclusive setting (focus group, January 22, 2007; one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). For the most part, the staff viewed inclusion as a strength, and the culture of the school had benefited. One general education teacher noted: 78 And I think too it’s [inclusion] so valuable. Our schedules, it’s so hard because [the resource teacher] is stretched so thin, but how good it was when she could be in the room with us and it wasn’t just them [special education students] always having to leave to go. It was ”Oh, Mrs. Pena’s here for math and she’s going meet with you four back here, and so and so will always be with her.” The class starts to realize that ”Oh, she’s just another teacher” and some of that stigma is taken away (focus group, January 22, 2007). Fellow general education teachers agreed with this: The good thing about when she [the resource teacher or TC] is in there [the general education room], other kids do see her as just another teacher, she helps everybody. I do think that sometimes when you pull those kids out, not everybody knows you [the special education teacher] and you don’t have the same respect; they don’t listen to you in the same way because you’re not their teacher, but the more they see you in there, the more acceptance of both that teacher and the special education kids (focus group, January 22, 2007). My class is right outside the time-away room, where that’s when they’re the most worked up, you know, so we [class] had a long conversation about why they are being carried in, why they would be upset, why they are going to that place. I think just keeping the kids informed; I think that everyone does a good job of that, and that helps with the climate of the building, when the kids can look and go, ”Oh, it’s okay.” (focus group, January 22, 2007). An interesting phenomenon had occurred at Cline in the staff’s perceptions with regard to students with disabilities. Due to the increased numbers of students with severe disabilities, special education students were now seen as falling into two camps: “those with more serve disabilities and then your regular caseload students,” noted a general education teacher (focus group, January 22, 2007). As a result of inclusion, general education teachers did not perceive students with higher-incident disabilities as “special ed.” Rather, students with learning disabilities (LD) or speech and language impairments (SL1) simply were considered other members of their class. However, it was the more severely impaired students whom the staff considered “special ed.” These more 79 challenging students with autism or Down’s syndrome caused the staff frustration because they required more time and energy. This frustration was reflected in a dialogue between two general education teachers: I think the issue of fiustration comes on a couple different levels. One, people are frustrated that these kids are in the building and are taking time. And then there are the people that have these students and are sometimes frustrated, wishing they could do more. You already know that you’re doing a lot, maybe more than for some other kids (focus group, January 22,2007) Those people that are frustrated that those students are in the building make it frustrating for the people trying to support those students, to have that kind of negative response. You think about all that time you put in, all that work and effort and everything that you’re trying to help this child be successful, and then you have someone else say, “Oh, why are they here?” (focus group, January 22, 2007). An example of why such students require more time is the weekly meeting concerning students who have more complex learning profiles. One 5th-grade teacher summarized the collective feeling about these students: Sometimes having the high-needs kids, it is more time consuming, like the kids we meet for team meeting on. You meet at 7:45, well my contract says I don’t have to be here until 8:15, but we’re willing, you come because that’s the right thing to do, you want to help that child, but it is half an hour more that you could certainly be doing something that needs to be done for the whole class (focus group, January 22, 2007). The 4'h-grade teacher acknowledged that these types of students do require more from a teacher, but the time and effort benefit the entire class, not just the student with a disability: Being a teacher with students with those real high needs in your classroom, you want to put the time in talking to those parents, because [it] doesn’t just affect them and their family. It affects the other 25 kids in your classroom, too. As a teacher trying to create a community within your classroom, you’re going to do everything you can so that, not only that child is comfortable, but by making them comfortable, then everyone else can have that, too. I think you put that time in because it’s worth it 80 for everyone, including yourself as a teacher (focus group, January 22, 2007) The resource teacher agreed with the 4th-grade teacher. “And you see the payoff, when you work so hard, it doesn’t just help those students, it helps all students,” the special educator affirmed (focus group, January 22, 2007). It appeared that to overcome differences in perceptions, teachers had implemented a “responsive classroom” program. Further probing during the focus group discussion uncovered this definition of the program: ADD quote here or more description of the program ach morning began with a group meeting in which academics were blended with social skills. In the end, the goal was to ensure that even the most severely challenged student was capable of being a contributing member of the class. “It really levels the playing field for everyone; there’s not the pressure of paper and pencil,” (focus group, January 22, 2007) noted a general education teacher who saw the power of this approach with a severely autistic student. Ipacv Showers’ View of Her Roles and Responsibilities Tracy Showers, the principal of Cline for the past 9 years, had the ability to command attention. This was noticed as I waited for our appointment for the interview when the activity of the front office naturally gravitated towards her as she entered the office. Her gentle spirit was reflected in her eyes and in her smile. A sparkle lit up her eyes when she talked of her school and the plans she had for it. Her office was a hub of activity with parents, students, and teachers coming and going, and Tracy had time and a kind word for everyone she encountered. She spoke freely and comfortably with even the youngest of her students. She was always at the ready with a grandmotherly smile and hug. 81 Tracy explained, during her interview, that as a young teacher in Florida, she had not imagined that she would be a school leader in a Midwestern state, but years of experience were fine-tuning her skills as a teacher leader until one day the opportunity to act as an interim principal in a different school district led her to her true calling. Tracy had a BA. in elementary education and a master’s degree in early childhood education, and her administrators encouraged her to pursue an educational specialist degree in educational leadership. This journey had taught her about herself as an educator and a student and led her to her current position, a “perfect fit” as she called it. According to Tucker and Tschannen-Moran (2002), principals “report that they lack time to be effective instructional leaders” (p. 6). Tracy’s days were not the exception. They were full and active, most of them starting long before the first teacher or student arrived at school. During our interview and reflected in her Photoimice narratives she recognized that time management was a struggle for her, so she actively worked on carving out time for collaboration for herself and her teachers, while working within the constraints of the teachers’ contract. Meeting the needs of special education students required Tracy to spend a minimum of three mornings a week before school began, meeting with teachers and service providers for students with disabilities. Two of the three mornings were set-aside for specific students already identified as special education, whereas child study meetings were conducted on the third morning. The majority of staff members thought that this time for collaboration was crucial and were thankful for it (focus group, January 22, 2007). But they also realized that it might not be enough, as one general education teacher pointed out: I think for as much as we do talk, I think still, ”Gosh, I’ve got to find the time to talk to the resource teacher about this.” And some days, I feel like 82 that is the last thing I do well here. I didn’t tell her this, I didn’t tell her that, but I mean there are a lot of things that we do to overcome that, but I feel like it’s something that I work on all the time. (focus group, January 22,2007) In response to this need, Tracy continuously was on the lookout for ways to build more collaboration, not only between general and special educators, but between grade levels as well. She noted the difficulties of this pointing out that collaboration and planning time was especially hard to find for her special education staff. I have to force them [the special education teachers] to take a planning time and a lunch. They are just so dedicated and wonderful and I don’t think they really take a planning time much, I’m lucky if they take a full lunch. They have it [a planning time] from 6 o’clock at night until, well, let’s just say that they are both here rather late preparing. And everything is individually planned for. It’s just amazing. We turn our lesson plans in at the end of the year, all the teachers, for the whole year. My resource teacher, actually, this year her lesson plans came down in a crate because she had her individual lesson plan for each child and then she had her group lesson plans, if she was able to put a little group together and today’s lesson plan is based on what happened yesterday. We are in the age of accountability for the federal government, for the state government (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). Tracy called herself a hands-on principal. She did not lock herself away in her office; rather, she was an ever-present feature in the halls and rooms of Cline (field notes, day of shadowing). The students waved to her as they filed past her office for recess or gym, they ran to her with books and papers when she walked into their rooms (day of shadowing, January 10, 2007), and she found time to sit with students at lunch, cultivating what she considered the most important component of a successful school: relationships (day of shadowing, January 10, 2007). This hands-on relationship was evident among her staff members. Tracy and her teachers were on a first-name basis and were intimately involved in one another’s lives (day of shadowing, January 10, 2007; one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007; focus group, January 22, 2007). She operated 83 an “open door policy,” and teachers freely came to her for advice or to share new ideas (day of shadowing, January 10, 2007; field notes; focus group, January 22, 2007). Her computer’s screen saver was a pictorial montage of her staff, a gift for Boss’s Day the previous year (day of shadowing, one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). The importance of relationships was evident than in one of Tracy’s biggest struggles, that is, with the process of “placing” children in classes. Classroom placement is a struggle when it comes to placing a general education student or a special needs child. It is a process that needs to be well thought out so that all students’ learning needs are met during a school year. As an elementary principal, it is my responsibility to get to know all of the students that are in our building. I need to look at their learning needs and the teaching styles of the teachers to determine classroom placement (Photovoice picture reflection: Classroom Space and Programs, February 200 7). By building relationships with her students, Tracy came to know all of the students with disabilities as individuals and recognized their educational needs. One of her general education teachers pointed out: I think she gets to know all of, [a] variety of special education students we have in the building, from one extreme to the other. She knows those kids. She knows their families; I mean, she’s involved. She doesn’t have to say, “Oh, who is that?” She knows who you’re talking about and she has background on those kids; she takes the time to do that, and it makes a huge difference (focus group, January 22, 2007). The relationships she had established with her teachers enabled Tracy to effectively match learners with teachers. Sometimes she asked the general education teachers to step out of their comfort zones. “1 think because she does know those students, she can match them up with teachers that work with that style,” said a general education teacher (focus group, January 22, 2007). The special education teacher concurred: “Yes, I think Tracy does a really nice job understanding our staff and who 84 would work well with different students. I think that helps our students and our staff as a whole” (focus group, January 22, 2007). As a result, the general education teachers reported that they were more willing to take on students with unique or more severe disabilities (focus group, January 22, 2007). However, Tracy pointed out that things “aren’t always smooth sailing at Cline” (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). Although Tracy’s staff was willing to take on new challenges, she did face the divide among her staff members in regards to their perceptions of students with disabilities (discussed in a previous section). She also recognized that her staff sometimes had difficulty understanding the different educational roles and expectations in general and special education. And the other piece, for the classroom teacher, is [that] understanding what the IEP goals say and what the resource or TC teacher’s responsibilities are is difficult because I believe that sometimes classroom teachers think that their [special education teacher] role is to help their student get through whatever assignment is in the general education classroom. And that is not the role, but that’s a norm that we are working on slowly to get rid of, but it’s tough. Or the child is pulled out during this time for TC, and the child has to make up the work that they missed when they were gone [from the general education classroom]. I only have a couple of people that still require that, but it’s a hard norm to break. Because they [special education students] are working hard in there, when they are out of the room, even though it may not be what the rest of the class learned. And then the new content expectations and the MEAP, there is so much pressure with that, that I think it is adding to people’s conflict as to what each other do (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007) One way that Tracy thought she was helping bridge this gap was by continuously increasing her understanding of special education and those who work with disabled students. She thought, “If I can understand it, then I can help my [general education] teachers understand it better, too” (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). For example, a point of pride for Tracy was her level of involvement with disabled students 85 and her knowledge of the laws governing special education. Not only did she attend every IEP, she was also an integral part of devising a suitable education plan for the student (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007; focus group, January 22, 2007). She told the story of a young mother whose husband was serving in the military in Iraq and the difficult time she was having getting her sons to school on time. At the last IEP, after probing into the cause of the boys’ frequent tardiness, Tracy created “before-school jobs” for the boys to do in the front office, complete with pay to use at the school store, as a way to develop pride and responsibility. Since the inception of these jobs, neither boy had had a tardy, and their mother said that the mornings at home were “a thousand times easier” (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). Tracy had also been active in district-level special education programs, such as Focus Monitoring, for the past 3 years (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). Not only had this on-going experience helped Tracy make sense of special education in her district and understand the mandates “a bit more,” but also it had given the rest of the district 3 chance to experience the level of involvement Tracy had in special education in her school. I’ve been involved in the new monitoring, the IEP process where you’re evaluating the IEPS, the new monitoring system. I did that, 2 years ago I was on the team that reviewed the IEPs that were picked for monitoring. And last year I was on the district team, which we reviewed, we went through and reviewed what the team did the previous year that I was on. So I worked really closely with that, and so that has really helped me understand a lot of the law. And then I helped develop the school improvement plans for special ed. It’s quite a process, quite a detailed process. It’s intriguing, just the differences. What’s the most enlightening, when we were doing this for our middle school, and special ed. teachers that were a part of the team were amazed at how much knowledge I had about what was going on in special ed. because that’s not the situation at secondary, which I find all the time. Secondary tends to believe that is the director’s job. And in both of my districts that was the 86 case. They were surprised by the amount of knowledge and experience I had with actually completing the forms, just my involvement with knowing each of the kids, so that was very surprising to them (one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007). Although the level of involvement Tracy had in special education may have surprised secondary staff members, it came as no surprise to Tracy's teachers. They knew her as a continuous learner, willing to take time to learn more about issues facing her school, especially around the complex issues of students with disabilities. A general education teacher related: She came up to me and said, “I read this really great book on autism; you should read it, I’ll just leave it in your box.” You know, for a principal there’s so many issues out there . . . there’s so many other things that she could be reading about, spending her time learning about, she’s that concerned with this other population that she learns about them (focus group, January 22, 2007). A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words: Cline Elementary As a way to understand the issues, successes, and inner workings of Cline, I asked Tracy to consider three questions: I. What programs do I have that meet special education (IDEIA) policy? 2. What roles and responsibilities do I have with regard to special education? 3. What tensions do I struggle with as an inclusive leader? Tracy took photographs in her school that she thought best represented her answers to these prompts. To help expand our learning, Tracy also titled each picture and wrote a brief descriptive narrative of the contents. In the following paragraphs, we will not only view her pictures and her words, but also dig into the meaning behind each photograph. 87 Special Education Through My Lens: Tracy Photograph 4.1: Reversed mainstreaming (Photovoice picture taken by Tracy, February 2007) This picture shows a S‘h-grade autistic student, the young boy, who was new to Cline. The girls shown are the ones in his general education class who volunteered their time during recess to work with the boy on socialization. Tracy chose this picture as her best representation for the question, What programs do I have that meet special education (IDEIA) policy? Below is the description that Tracy wrote about this photograph. This autistic student is part of the peer-to-peer support program. Students from his general ed homeroom spend periods of time in his resource classroom. They work with him in the academic core areas such as math; they help him with his sensory activities and provide him with playmates for social play. This gives the students the opportunity to develop a personal relationship with our special needs students and to see that their classroom has similar and different kinds of materials for their instructional needs. The general ed students now know that when he leaves their classroom he is also participating in learning, not just leaving for a recess. They also help us problem-solve difficulties a student may have that they [general education students] observed in their monthly support meetings with our school social worker and LDTC (Photovoice narrative for Reversed Mainstreaming, February 2007). Through this description, we begin to see that Tracy did not separate the various legislations: NCLB for general education students and the IDEIA for special education 88 students. Rather, they were interwoven, each supporting the other, just as the students were doing in the picture above. According to Cortiella (2004), there are more than 40 references to NCLB in the recent 2004 reauthorization of IDEIA, in an attempt to align the two laws. The federal legislature-is moving away from separate rules for separate populations of students. The history of educating students with disabilities indicates that without such forward legal movements, special education would continue to operate in the shadows of general education. Mirroring this same trend, Tracy’s action did not appear to follow the “letter” of the law, but more its “spirit” in an effort to craft learning experiences with the focus on the individual child. Photograph 4.2: Lunch with friends (Photovoice photo taken by Tracy, February 2007) This picture also includes the autistic student from the first picture. However, the setting is at lunch with a different group of girls from his general education room. Tracy chose this picture to answer the question, What roles and responsibilities do I have with regard to special education? Her explanation shows that she believed it was her responsibility to help prepare all students for the lives they will lead outside of her school. 89 This is a picture of the peer-to-peer support students helping STUDENT X join the rest of the 5th grade in the lunchroom for lunch. When he first entered our school, he would not go into any activities that were loud or with large groups. We feel it is our responsibility to teach all students how to respond in social situations such as a restaurant, store, etc. This is one step closer for STUDENT X to venture out into the community with others and know that it is ok to be there (Photovoice narrative for Lunch with Friends, February 2007). Praisner’s 2003 study of principals’ attitudes toward inclusion indicated that principals’ attitudes and values determined the level of support for special education. Principals who valued inclusionary ideas offered more support to the special education staff than those who did not value such ideas. This assertion is illustrated in this photo as it reveals the core value of collaboration at Cline. It is clear that one person cannot do all the work alone; therefore, it becomes a community effort, for example, the images of general education students supporting a special education student. Furthermore, Tracy’s use of the words we and our responsibility (Photovoice reflection, February 2007; field notes; one-on-one interview, January 10, 2007) indicate that she, and the students and teachers at Cline, value inclusion and work to offer a high level of support for special education. Left unsaid in the picture is the difficulty in organizing something as simple of having lunch together. Collaboration, even among students, takes time and willingness on the parts of the participants. 90 Photograph 4.3: Classroom space and programs (Photovoice photo taken by Tracy, February 2007) The last question that Tracy was asked to capture on film was, What tensions do I struggle with as an inclusive leader? Her picture is actually two photographs placed side by side. Although the pictures focuses on the special education room and the people who populate it, Tracy’s narrative reveals that one of her biggest tensions stemmed from her responsibility of placing students with disabilities in the appropriate general education room. Classroom placement is a struggle when it comes to placing a general education student or a special needs child. It is a process that needs to be well thought out so that all students’ learning needs are met during a school year. As an elementary principal it is my responsibility to get to know all of the students that are in our building. I need to look at their learning needs and the teaching styles of the teachers to determine classroom placement. Questions to ask: Is it appropriate for the special needs students to spend the entire day in a general education classroom with parapro assistance? Or should there be time in the schedule for specialized instruction for the special needs child? 13 it creating a safe, positive productive learning environment for the special needs child and the general education child? 15 each child being provided with the appropriate resources for quality education? When do the behaviors of a special needs child intervene with the learning of the general population? (Photovoice narrative for Classroom Space and Programs, February 2007) 91 Tracy supplied a glimpse into the questions she wrestled with as an educational leader for both general and special educational systems. Although it may appear to an outsider to be a simple task, Tracy helped us understand the complexities involved in ‘ scheduling. Although her dialogue focused primarily on the student, she did include a picture of one of her special education teachers, indicating that scheduling and placement of staff was another tension she had to confront on a regular basis. The underlying current of this tension that Tracy touched on in her narrative is the interaction between NCLB and IDEIA. Although more closely aligned than ever, each piece of legislation has specific goals and outcomes for general and special education students. When Tracy said that she was wrestling with the idea of each child having the appropriate resources for a quality education, it is evident that the mandates of each act were pulling her focus, time, and resources in various and often competing directions. Summary Tracy wrestled with three large issues: (1) placement of students, (2) the understanding of various stakeholder roles, and (3) interests of general and special education competing in her decision making and for the school’s focus and resources. To best navigate these tensions, Tracy relied on the belief that she was a co-learner as well as a leader, therefore, spent a good deal of her time building respectful relationships with the staff and students. We will begin to see these same themes, as well as new points of learning, emerging in the second school in the study, Ravenswood. 92 RAVENSWOOD ELEMENTARY Town context Nestled at the edge of a subdivision is Ravenswood Elementary School, one of six elementary schools for the unincorporated community of Madrid. Not having its own town government, Madrid is part of London, as is Paris. Although small in size, only 16.8 square miles, Madrid is home to 22,805 people (US. Census Bureau, 2000). Madrid’s racial composition is 84% white, .4% African American, 8.7% Asian, and 2% of Hispanic origin. The slight increase in diversity over the other two communities could be attributed to the town’s proximity to a large university. Madrid is known in the area for its affluence. The median household income ($62,810) exceeds the county and state medians (US. Census Bureau, 2000). School Context Ravenswood Elementary School is housed in a 51-year-old building, reflecting the era in which it was erected. The whitewashed cinderblock walls form narrow hallways that are covered with students’ artwork. Two rooms of each grade level are scattered throughout the building, creating an integrated effect. Even the special education rooms are scattered rather than clumped in a separate wing, isolated from the rest of the building, a conscious decision. The center hub of Ravenswood is the school’s library. Two hundred-fifty students attend Ravenswood, the smallest of the district’s six elementary schools. Ravenswood’s unique location of being on the edge of two towns and close to the local university draws a diverse population. Roughly 18% of the students are English as a Second Language (ESL) learners (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Many of these students are Korean and have parents attending or 93 teaching at the local university. Fifteen percent of the students qualify for free or reduced-cost lunch, the second highest rate in the district (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Yet, Ravenswood’s state assessment scores are above the state average in all grades and on all subject areas. See Figure 4.3 o co 0) on a) o q) a) a a 96” E a it? .E 2 8" < a it" 8 a 8" <8 :3 a '8 :3 a E 9. ts A :3 a .2 .‘3 ta 2 m > o m > m > m m > o m > < a: < 3 < < m < 3rd 93.9% 88% 93.2% 87% 68.2% 52% 90.9% 79% Grade 4'h 95.3% 85% 97.3% 85% 81.1% 45% 94.6% 78% Grade 5"I 89.6% 76% 95.6% 84% 75.6% 57% 91.1% 78% 89.4% 83% Grade Figure 4.3 Ravenswood’s 2006 MEAP Scores (Department of Education, 2007) Special Education Service Delivery While Ravenswood is the third smallest school in the district, it has the second highest free and reduced-cost lunch population and the highest number of ESL speakers (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Roughly 10% of the 250 students qualify for special education services. The varieties of disabilities serviced include LD, SLI, El, PI, health impairments (OHI), and traumatic brain injury (TBI). There is one full-time resource teacher, a SSW is in the building half a day every week, and a SLI therapist— shared among the elementary buildings—is at Ravenswood 2 days a week. There are no self-contained classes and the sole service model is pullout with the resource teacher, SLI therapist, or SSW. A large majority of students receiving special education are also on 94 behavior intervention plans (BIPs) (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007; focus group, February 8, 2007). The fact that more than half of the special education service providers “travel,” meaning they are shared among multiple schools within the district, adds strain to the personnel and types of services offered at Ravenswood. For example, during the focus group interview, the resource teacher and the school social worker discussed the difficulties that it places on themselves when they are responsible for multiple students in multiple buildings. They both agreed that finding time to schedule services is difficult as well as attending to a “crisis” in a timely manner (focus group, February 8, 2007). Even though the resource is not traveling this school year as she had done the previous year, most of the math and ELA instruction for students with disabilities is carried out in the resource room, which necessitates pulling students from the natural general education setting. Yet Ravenswood strives to offer a solid and inclusive education for students with disabilities. On the day of my site observation, I noted that students with physical and learning disabilities were integrated in the general education classrooms. I viewed such students participating in music, recess, and lunch with their non-disabled peers (day of shadowing, January 18, 2007). During the focus group, the resource teacher noted that Ravenswood was the third building she had worked in within the district and that it was the best at working with special education students and issues (focus group, February 8, 2007). During the focus group discussion, the general education teacher shared that the school’s strategy of helping students with disabilities relied on early intervention, 95 accommodating students with disabilities in the general education setting, and creating an environment of acceptance. The teachers attributed the effectiveness of their interventions in part to the staff’s ability to identify students who require help and then come together to aid that student. For example, a general education teacher participating in the focus group interview discussed how teachers at the school came together to “wrap around” a child who had not yet been assigned to a special education program. In particular, a plan that would eliminate many of his disruptive behaviors in the hall was determined. Because teachers are able to view the hallway between classrooms clearly, they could all intervene when the student exhibited inappropriate behaviors. The general education teacher pointed out: I think even the physical layout of the building helps that happen. . . . The other buildings I’ve been at are pods, and they’re tucked back in their own little place and you don’t see kids in the hallways. It makes a huge difference; it may be loud for us, but you get to know the kids (focus group, February 8, 2007). Teachers working together, with the guidance and support of the principal, value the referral process as a form of early intervention. The resource teacher noted, “Our staff wants to identify early on so if the children qualify for services they can get them immediately instead of waiting 3 years into elementary school . . . you know they’re getting help” (focus group, February 8, 2007). This is essential to this notion of advocacy for students in need of support, and in particular students with special needs. A further example of this is that every Thursday morning time is designated for teachers to meet about students suspected of having a disability, to hold child study meetings, and to conduct IEPs and review BIPs. The teachers at Ravenswood who participated in these weekly meetings with the special education professionals worked to ensure that they were 96 implementing as many strategies as they could to help students be successful. These meetings were also important because the principal at Ravenswood believed that special education programs alone was not the “cure all” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007), but a part of a more holistic process. Reviewing the data from the Photovoice and focus group discussion coupled with my observation at the school, it appeared that the prevailing custom at the school was that of teacher collaboration in ways that benefit the students and, teacher confidence that the principal would be supportive of this effort. An example of this is the structure of the school day. To minimize the stigma that often accompanies pulling children from the general education classroom for direct services, the teachers and service providers had purposefirlly crafted the day in such a way that students appeared to move fluidly to and from their classrooms. At any given time of day (as I observed and the general education teacher discussed during the focus group), students were leaving for advanced reading lessons, or joining a higher-grades science class, or participating in peer tutoring, or going to the resource room. Although all this coming and going may have appeared chaotic, it had reduced the attention on disabled students’ standing out for leaving the classroom. The general education teacher noted: I think that it’s [the structure of the day] just good for the students. The pullouts, we have so many specialists, so many things going on in a classroom at one time so students don’t know who’s going where for what at any time. The kids just respect what everyone is doing (focus group, February 8, 2007). Another example of this climate of collaboration and mutual support, is a palpable sense of community that connected classroom teacher to classroom teach, student and student (general education student and special education students), and teachers—-staff—- 97 administration—and special education specialists. Because so many of the itinerant personnel were shared among schools in the district and were at Ravenswood only a limited amount of time, the staff relied on one another, and on the administration, to ensure that students were receiving a quality education. The resource teacher noted, “I think the teachers in our building do a very nice job accommodating for SE [special education] students in their classrooms, making things work for them when they’re in the GE classroom as opposed to when they are in here [resource room]” (focus group, February 8, 2007). Ja_ck Smith’s View of His Roles and Responsibilities I found Jack Smith to be a serious and soft-spoken young man, epitomized professionalism. Wearing a tie every day, Jack made it his mission to interact with all who entered his building, from teachers to parents to itinerant staff. On my day of observation, Jack was conducting an IEP. During this meeting, he conversed with both the speech and language therapist and the parent in a way that demonstrated that this was not their first interaction and that he knew them as individuals by asking after other family members and laughing at their stories. Even so, it was the children who were the true focus of Jack’s school, especially those with disabilities. During the day of observation and during the one-on-one interview, Jack stopped students in the hall to ask after homework assignments, to inquire about parents’ health and to listen to a young student share an art project. During the interview, Jack showed me his procedures for knowing which students were on behavior plans, had food allergies or had medical concerns. He shared in the one-on-one interview that two of his proudest moments as a principal. First, was when a 5'h grade student came down after the state writing 98 assessment and told Jack that he wrote about Jack as the person he admired the most. The second was crafting a “very large and lengthy” IEP for a 5th grader that transition to the middle school “ that was probably 15 pages long of accommodations that we did, or strategies that worked and ones that didn’t work, what his behavioral issues were. I mean that IEP is rock solid. We’re really proud of it because it’s a result of what the kid needs and what we’ve learned” (one- on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Jack explained that his advocacy for special education students was rooted in his life story. As a young boy growing up in upstate New York, he watched his older sister struggle with dyslexia throughout her academic career and witnessed the difficulties she encountered, including being unable to fulfill her dream to become a teacher. This experience shaped his “philosophy that everybody has a special need of some sort and sometimes you can see it . . . or sometimes you can’t tell what it is” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007) as a young junior high teacher. As an intern and then a 6‘“- grade teacher in his current district, Madrid Public Schools, Jack was quick to try new approaches and modify assignments in order to “level the playing field,” as he put it, for these students. He recalled fondly, during the one-on-one interview, the time he was able to find a way to help an LD student read in front of the class for the first time. The 6 years Jack spent in the classroom crafted this philosophy, the one with which he still operated as a principal. During the one-on-one interview, Jack shared that he had the “gamut” of disabilities as a classroom teacher, from spinal bifida to emotional impairments. As the Language Arts and social studies teacher, he would have these students in class as they were pulled fi'om elective classes for special education instruction. Jack realized as a teachers that 99 “it’s not easy having all students share with you what their weaknesses are, but as a teacher you really get to know the student in a very unique way and it’s your job to figure out what those weaknesses and what the areas of growth are and grow with that student” (one—on—one interview, January 18, 2007). Knowing the students as individuals, what their weaknesses are and where they require support under girds his position that “to treat you fairly is to treat you differently” (one- on-one interview, January 18, 2007). “I guess my philosophy is that everybody has a special need of some sort and sometimes you can see it because they might look different and sometimes you can hear it because they talk different or a lot of times you can’t tell what it is” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). This is a view that not only with his students. As the principal at Ravenswood for the past 5 years, Jack said that he did not “want all teacher candidates that are straight-A students or get learning. I want teachers that struggle with learning so that they can understand their learners that struggle” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). One of the student issues that Jack took personally, and seriously, was students’ with health problems. At the end of his tenure as a teacher, Jack suffered from Crone’s disease. He said that this was the most difficult time for him as a teacher, but it also helped give him further insight into students with disabilities. I would say to my wife, “I think I do a pretty good job teaching now, but imagine what I could do if I felt good.” Kind of the same with special education kids again. Imagine what I could do if I had a different strategy or if someone understood how I learned, imagine what I could do. (one- on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Meeting the needs of students was Jack’s true focus as a teacher. This difficult time in Jack’s professional career gave Jack a personal insight into what he thought students with disabilities must experience. He stated, “I had to evolve my teaching style 100 to meet my own needs, and it’s not much different than special ed kids evolving their learning style to meet their own needs” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Because of his life and family experiences he believed strongly that it was his duty to act as an advocate for the families he served, “1 mean, parents send us the best kids they have; they don’t keep the good ones at home, you know, they send us kids that they love, the apple of their eye, and they need someone to advocate for them.” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). To ensure that the needs of children were being met, I noted on my day of shadowing, the one-on-one and focus group interviews that there were documents and artifacts visibly placed in the school that alerted students, teachers, staff, and others to the health needs of students. For example, hanging outside various rooms were signs designating various foods that were not welcome in the room. Hanging in the principal’s office were files of all the students with medical issues. With the help of quick reference sheets on those students, including their pictures, Jack knew each student’s needs and concerns. He took pride in the fact that he knew each of the students by name and was involved with many of the Ravenswood families. Jack felt that he was attentive and involved with the learning processes of students with disabilities. He reported attending every IEP meeting, where he was responsible for recording the proceedings and filing this paperwork for these meetings. Writing out the IEP to me is important because I’m responsible, ultimately, for all the kids and their learning, and I need to know what’s on those plans. . . . It’s my expectation that the teachers know what’s in the IEP; I mean, it’s a legal document, it’s not an optional thing. And I’m pretty proud. I think we write pretty good IEPs (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). 101 Jack also reported that he worked hard to support the success of BIPs. Each student on a BIP had time with Jack built into the rewards section. He kept a copy of each BIP in his office and routinely reviewed them. I feel like I need to check in along the way so that three months down the road we don’t have “Oh well, it stopped working so I stopped keeping track of any of the data.” Well, the data that isn’t working is data, so keep taking the data, ya know? And that takes a lot of time. Or if the plan needs to be tweaked because the teacher doesn’t feel like it’s working, sitting down and coming up with a plan that the teacher feels is feasible is a challenge sometimes, too (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). Transitioning from the classroom to the principal’s desk had been an exciting challenge for Jack. He viewed his current position still as a teacher, “I’m a teacher of teachers. I just teach more people now” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). During the one-on-on interview, Jack said that, for the most part, the principalship was not all that different from the classroom, but his biggest challenge was to effectively handle the constant interruptions throughout the day. It’s really hard to stay on top of coordinating everybody’s individual needs. It gets very overwhelming. . . . It gets really hectic, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. . . . It’s just like a million things going on at once and you have to focus on them all and give them the attention that they deserve. As a principal, you could have a fight happen and then you spend your day dealing with that when you were supposed to review Billy’s plan. Dealing with everything that comes up, I guess it’s just the best part of the job, but it’s the worst, too. The most challenging part of the job is that it changes on a dime. You’re doing one thing and boom, you gotta do another thing. A teacher asks you for the math GLECS [grade level education content standards], and then you gotta do this and you gotta do that. I pride myself on doing things and doing them well, and it’s hard when you are in the middle of something and then you have this distraction--you don’t want to really call it a distraction because it’s your job, but coming back and picking up where you left off without making mistakes. But I make a lot of mistakes and my staff is very nice in the way they point them out and we kind of learn together. I mean, I’m a learner too, just like I expect my teachers to be (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). 102 As a result, Jack often had to make what he considered snap decisions that required action first and reflection second. I’m always on my computer researching and figuring out what I should have done, how I could have handled that better. So much of the time, I just don’t have that luxury of consulting other people for input. I’m the one they look to for the answer, but I don’t always know it. I have to find it later. It just has to work (one-on—one interview, January 18, 2007). Jack believed that the success of Ravenswood to attend to the needs of students, and special education students, was a team effort. “It’s a really family affair here,” he noted in the one—on-one interview. As a manager, he was the one who organized time for meetings and collaboration, but he said, “It’s tough when everybody is going a million directions and they are shared between schools. It’s hard to ask them to do one more thing” (one-on-one interview, January 18, 2007). As such, he was sensitive to the demands on his teachers’ time before, during, and after school when asking them to meet. The resource teacher summarizes some of these demands when she addresses the pulls that both general and special education teachers fell when trying to serve students with disabilities effectively. I think the biggest tension is scheduling. Student needs to see me, needs to see school social worker, needs to see at-risk reading. I feel bad for the general education teachers because they’re juggling me coming and taking students, counselor coming, the reading specialist coming, at-risk aides coming, and they have to get all of their curriculum in . . . juggle all of that... That is huge, and the classrooms have their priorities, too. There are lessons that they don’t want the kids to miss, and I certainly understand that, too. Special events that they don’t want them to miss. We just don’t have enough time in the day (focus group, February 8, 2007). To help minimize this pull for his teachers, Jack had set aside every Thursday morning for Child Study Team meetings and IEPs. 103 Jack was concerned with not only the effect scheduling had on the student, but also the added stress it placed on the general education teachers. His special education staff also shared this concern. The special education teacher pointed out that because of scheduling demands, many of the services that would be best offered by trained professionals, like herself, were delegated to the general education teachers. She shared this concern with a general education teacher: It’s not like in college you guys [general education teachers] have to take a class on special ed. I mean, special education has to be trained in as a general education teacher and certified in general education, but the reverse doesn’t happen. There’s no requirement for learning anything about special education. And that’s a huge part of teaching now. No matter what, you’re going to deal with it [students with disabilities]. But as a school district, I think schools need to recognize that you guys [general education teachers] don’t know what everything is and the processes, and it shouldn’t be assumed that you do (focus group, February 8,2007) Jack saw this situation spilling over into his staff‘s perceptions of one another. “Sometimes a general ed teacher will tell me that they think the resource teacher isn’t doing enough because she’s not in the building as much or she doesn’t have to do the same things for the district that the general education teacher does.” Jack wonied about how to help bridge this gap in perceptions while staying true to his “treating you fairly means treating you differently” aphorism. A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words: Ravenswood Elementary Jack was asked the same three questions that Tracy was— as a vehicle to view students with disabilities at Ravenswood the way Jack did. I. What programs do I have that meet special education (IDEIA) policy? 2. What roles and responsibilities do I have with regard to special education? 104 3. What tensions do I struggle with as an inclusive leader? Jack also took photographs and wrote narratives about his school that he thought best represented his answers to these prompts. Special Education Through My Lens: Jack Photograph 4.4: TEAM: We are in this together (Photovoice picture taken by Jack, February 2007) This picture is of a mural painted on the wall just inside the front doors of Ravenswood. It is one of the first images that greet those who enter the school. For Jack, this painting symbolized his answer to What programs do I have that meet special education (IDEIA) policy? The image of figures of different colors all connected represented not only the diversity found at Ravenswood, but also the spirit of collaboration. Jack explained, This picture represents why our special education programs firnction well. At our school, teachers, parents, and special education staff work together to create educational plans that meet the diverse needs of our learners. The different colors signify the different perspective of each group and how we must respect what the others bring to the table. We must join hands, even if we disagree, and forge a plan that meets the needs of the child (Photovoice narrative for TEAM: We are in this together, February 2007). Jack talked about the various people who must come to the table when formulating IEPs for students with disabilities. For me, his picture reminds me of special education’s roots in the civil rights movement and the progress achieved by advocacy groups like the 105 Cuyahoga County, Ohio, Council for Retarded Children, established in 1933 by five mothers. Jack’s picture illustrates how this ring of unity must continue to operate, especially now in the era of accountability. What is not mentioned here is the amount of work that it takes to foster a diverse community and the effort it requires to bring these different people to the table. Jack acknowledged that finding time for collaboration and working with various schedules made this process difficult. And like the principals in Burton’s 2004 study, Jack did not think it was his administration course work that had helped him cultivate this circle of unity. Rather, it was his day-to-day experiences and on-the-job training that were most beneficial to Jack when he was wrestling with collaboration of professionals. Photograph 4.5: Art from a learning-disabled student (Photovoice picture taken by Jack, February 2007) This picture, though titled as student crafted is actually painted by the art teacher who is learning disabled, hangs in one of the halls at Ravenswood. Scratched into the paint are pleadings like “Wood [sic] sombody plees [sic] help me?” with fingers pointing in the middle labeled stupid, fake, and parasitic. This powerful, yet disturbing picture helped Jack best answer the question, What roles and/or responsibilities do I have with regard to special education? He wrote about this picture: 106 This picture represents the roles and responsibilities administrators and special education teams have in regards to children. In the midst of many responsibilities and demands, it is easy for staff to become frustrated and even desensitized to the reality of our struggling learners. Looking carefully at this painting (painted by my art teacher who is LD) reminds me of the reality of what students feel each and every day at school. This helps me focus on meeting their needs both academically and socially (Photovoice voice reflection for Art from a Learning Disabled Student, February 2007). Through his description, Jack revealed his sensitivity to the various roles and responsibilities placed on teachers. For example, in the one-on-one interview he talked about coordinating schedules for meeting dates and times with the knowledge of the demands on his staff. Other responsibilities placed on his teachers related to students with disabilities that Jack discussed in the one-on-one interview included taking and reporting data for behavior intervention plans, monitoring foods that come in and out of classrooms, and “differentiating their lessons and doing those accommodations” (one-on- one interview, January 18, 2007). He freely admitted that frustration ofien resulted because of these demands. Indeed, this picture captures the messiness and the complexity of an inclusive school. The chaos and the sense of hopelessness and blame can stem from a variety of reasons, however, one that came up in conversation with Jack was a lack of understanding the laws that govern public schools today. When asked to rate his knowledge of special education laws on a scale from 0 to 10, with 0 being little to no knowledge of the laws, Jack rated himself a 7, equivalent to a C, meaning average. This rating was in accord with the findings from Davidson and Algozzine’s 2002 study, in which 47.5% of the participants thought they had a limited or basic knowledge of special education laws. The authors contended that successful management of special education 107 directly results from the principal’s knowledge of special education laws. I had to wonder if Jack ”felt that he was trapped in the spiral asking, “Wood sombody plees help me?” Photograph 4.6: Flutter by mosaic (Photovoice photo taken by Jack, February 2007) Although the details of this picture are hard to see, it is a vibrant butterfly mosaic that hangs in Ravenswood’s library. The mosaic was an undertaking of the art department and PTA a few years back. Jack took this photo and shared it because he thought that it illustrated the tensions that he struggled with as an inclusive leader. The picture and his narrative begin to show the intricacies of a leading an inclusive school. This picture was chosen due to all of the tiny pieces that make up the mosaic. Each has the name of a student, parent, or teacher on it. While a butterfly does not often bring tension to mind, it represents the awesome responsibility that is takes to meet the needs of each tile in the mosaic. As an administrator I struggle with taking the time to see each tile and often just see the big picture. I want to enjoy the bigger picture, but also know that the individual tiles each require care to make the school work, and the picture so beautifiil. Balancing the needs of teachers, parents, and students is a daily struggle (Photovoice reflection by Jack for Flutter by Mosaic, February 2007). 108 In his interview, Jack discussed these various needs that he tried to balance in a “fair way.” “I don’t want anyone to think that I favor people. I try to give my time equally, and especially resources. I don’t want one teacher asking why so and so got that I didn’t get what I asked for” (day of shadowing field notes, January 18, 2007). Like Tracy, Jack appears to work hard to not separate general and special education; rather, looking to address a particular problem while looking at the “big picture.” However, he stressed that to fully see the big picture, one must notice the little pieces that create it. In essence, it appeared from the photos and our discussion that Jack was a walking a ti ghtropewperforming a balancing act: balancing the whole with the parts, the overall need with the roles of individuals, and the importance of an individual with the common good. Returning to the photo, balancing diverse people and organizational needs meant that Jack had to understand the role each tile or stakeholder/participant played. From interviews with Jack and then the focus group, I learned that Jack and his staff thought there was often a lack of understanding regarding the work done by the various stakeholders. For example, during the focus group, the school counselor recalls the frustration she felt as a general education teacher when looking at the testing done by special educators. “I remember when I was teaching. That would really bother me because we would go to these meeting and sit there and talk about all the things that are happening for this child but then they don’t transfer that into ‘Okay what’s the teacher supposed to do to help?’” (focus group, February 8, 2007). The resource teacher and general education teacher agrees with the social worker. “And I think it’s real helpful when the team can tell a teacher how that data transfers into, how it takes place in the 109 classroom. Tell me what this means, tell me what I need to do.” says the general education teacher (focus group, February 8, 2007). The resource teacher acknowledges where part of the problem of not understanding various aspect to different jobs may occur. “That [test data] is always in our reports that go to the parent, but not to you [general education teachers]. They’re in the CA-60. That’s a good point because the school psychologist report has all these recommendations that you can do, but you teachers never see it” (focus group, February 8, 2007). Summary Jack’s photographs illustrated the importance of unity when running an inclusive school. People must be able to put aside differences and come to a common table when educating students with disabilities, especially because it is a complicated and confusing process. Jack also believed that, in order to keep the big picture in sight, there must be an understanding of the pieces that make up that larger view MERRYVALE ELEMENTARY Town Context A 20-minute drive through open farmlands intermittently dotted with homes takes you to the small rural village of Essex. Although the town itself covers only 1.5 square miles (US. Census Bureau, 2000), the school district spans a sprawling amount of land. Essex is unique because it sits at the far southeastern corner of the Hampton ISD, and only about 1,260 people (US. Census Bureau, 2000) live within its boundaries. Merryvale schools educate students from three consolidated towns in four different counties and five townships. Obviously rural, Merryvale’s population is almost 110 completely white (97.7%) and poor, with a median household income of $38,456 (US. Census Bureau, 2000). School Context Tucked behind the main road leading into the small downtown district is Merryvale Elementary School, a building that was opened only four years ago. Nearly 400 3rd- through 5th-grade students attend Merryvale. A large rotunda with a domed ceiling serves as the entrance to the building and the center of activity (day of shadowing, February 19, 2007). The common areas, such as the office, computer lab, media center, and music rooms, line one are of the rotunda. Branching off in three distinct spokes are the grade-level hallways (day of shadowing, February 19, 2007). Each hallway, color- coded, houses three to four sections of one grade and empties into a large, open playground ringed by fields and forests (day of shadowing, February 19, 2007; field notes). The cafeteria doubles as the school’s assembly room, complete with a spacious stage and walls that collapse into the gym to provide additional seating for community events. Numerous times throughout the year, the room is packed to capacity with family and friends for plays and musicals (one-on-one interview, February 19, 2007). Because the town is so small, the schools act as central attractions, and every event is well attended (one-on-one interview, February 19, 2007). Merryvale’s students come to them as 3rd graders functioning just below the state’s average in writing and English Language Arts, as seen in Figure 4.4. By the time they become 5th graders, they are performing above the state’s average in writing, reading, math, English, and science (MDE, 2007). However, as the chart shows, writing continues to be an area of weakness assessed by the state test for 3rd, 4'“, and 5th graders. Ill 0 CD Q) w Q) 00 Q) .: 0°” C'- uwt: 0°” 0°00 com a 530 «s 530': 530—] 30.9. 534) 2 03> o m>3 m>m m>o (12> < a: < < <-\\ Ethi