All this talk of a trillion dollars.
There are 309 million people in the U.S.
A trillion divided by 309 million yields roughly $3250 per person, or $13,000 for a family of four. This is a lot of money. It’s a bit more than a quarter of what the average U.S. household earns in a year. It’s a down payment on a house, it’s the price of a decent used car. It’s the kind of debt families take on all the time, but not every year. And it’s amortized, like a mortgage, over many more years than an auto loan. Which means we’ll pay more but have longer to do it.
It’s about half what we already owe on houses, credit cards, and autos.
It’s about one fourteenth of the U.S. government debt, which is growing but which is still only a fraction of what it was after WWII (as compared to GDP). And as a fraction it’s not much: we safely borrow 2.5 times our income to buy a house, admittedly a once- or twice-in-a-lifetime debt.
Interestingly, it’s also about one fourteenth of the U.S. GDP.
The point, to me, is not really the size of a trillion dollars, which is substantial but not outrageously so, but how it relates to our health and life as a nation. To borrow this much money means little to a young, healthy family with two working parents. It means a lot more to someone about to retire on a fixed income, or to someone who has just lost a job.
The question may be put as an analogy: How old are we as a nation? Are we young and strong, facing a growing income and years to pay off our debts? Or are we old and weak, facing years of declining income with little time left to pay off our debts?
It seems to me that the safe assumption is neither of these. We shouldn’t assume growth that we can’t verify, but, within the bounds of conservative estimates, we shouldn’t assume that our days in the sun are numbered or over. We should assume that our income and expenses last year are a good predictor of what they will be next year and for the foreseeable future.
From this point of view, it seems clear that a trillion dollars is not an amount we can borrow every year, but, compared with our GDP and existing debt, it’s just not that much. Assuming we’re borrowing it for the right reasons.
After all, we spend less than 7/10 of a trillion dollars a year on educating every single child in the United States.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Teaching for Freedom
Just before our last performance of Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest," I gathered the cast in a circle, the way I had seen other directors do it. I gave a few notes, and then I gave the best advice I could think of: "Once you're on stage, you can do whatever you like. You can say whatever you like. No one can stop you." The kids knew their lines, the blocking, the set changes. We'd rehearsed and rehearsed, and this was the last performance. I'm not exactly sure what I was after, but I wanted the students to play the play, or at least to know that they could. For weeks, we had adhered to lots and lots of rules and drills and agreements, and now it was time to let all that go, if possible. In earlier performances, I had played with the play in order to make the students do it. Now I wanted it to be their turn.
In the first scene, Ernest has to look for his shoes. I didn't want him just to "act" like he was looking for his shoes, so I had the prop master put his shoes in a different location for each performance; he actually had to look for them. Under the sofa? Under the side table? Where?
Before Aunt Augusta arrives, Algernon has to eat all the cucumber sandwiches. For one performance, I had the students secretly prepare twice the normal number of sandwiches. We all got to watch Algie squirm to get them down--he ended up sneaking a few between the couch cushions for later.
The play started, line after line, just as rehearsed.
The butler appeared, unscripted. Without a word, in the background, he picked up Ernest's discarded bathrobe, put it on, poured himself a sherry from a bottle on a side table, and left the stage. No one in the audience knew that we had never planned nor rehearsed this whimsy. They were amused, we were beside ourselves. (For the record, the boy who broke the ice was--and is--about as taciturn as any high school boy can be, reserved and observant, but also a determined, solid character. It was no accident that he was the first to test this ice of improvisation, and it was no accident that his improvisation was silent.)
From that moment on, this last performance gathered steam. Not every actor dared to break the boundaries of the play as rehearsed--these were high school students. But many did, in character, and the play went on, richer than it had been, richer than we had imagined it.
Afterward, one of the dads--a real actor-director, not an amateur stepping in to fill a need, as I was--said, "...they were free." And he meant it. After hours and hours of rehearsal, lock-step performances in which they tried to "get it right," some of them dared--within the confines of the play--to improvise.
The risk, the giddiness, the creativity, the responsibility, all spoke to them more plainly and more boldly than any classroom lecture or discussion could about the real preparation for freedom, the responsibility of freedom, the possibility of freedom, and the reward of freedom.
Sometimes, the best things we teach, we teach unconsciously, inadvertently, and we only recognize them in hindsight.
In the first scene, Ernest has to look for his shoes. I didn't want him just to "act" like he was looking for his shoes, so I had the prop master put his shoes in a different location for each performance; he actually had to look for them. Under the sofa? Under the side table? Where?
Before Aunt Augusta arrives, Algernon has to eat all the cucumber sandwiches. For one performance, I had the students secretly prepare twice the normal number of sandwiches. We all got to watch Algie squirm to get them down--he ended up sneaking a few between the couch cushions for later.
The play started, line after line, just as rehearsed.
The butler appeared, unscripted. Without a word, in the background, he picked up Ernest's discarded bathrobe, put it on, poured himself a sherry from a bottle on a side table, and left the stage. No one in the audience knew that we had never planned nor rehearsed this whimsy. They were amused, we were beside ourselves. (For the record, the boy who broke the ice was--and is--about as taciturn as any high school boy can be, reserved and observant, but also a determined, solid character. It was no accident that he was the first to test this ice of improvisation, and it was no accident that his improvisation was silent.)
From that moment on, this last performance gathered steam. Not every actor dared to break the boundaries of the play as rehearsed--these were high school students. But many did, in character, and the play went on, richer than it had been, richer than we had imagined it.
Afterward, one of the dads--a real actor-director, not an amateur stepping in to fill a need, as I was--said, "...they were free." And he meant it. After hours and hours of rehearsal, lock-step performances in which they tried to "get it right," some of them dared--within the confines of the play--to improvise.
The risk, the giddiness, the creativity, the responsibility, all spoke to them more plainly and more boldly than any classroom lecture or discussion could about the real preparation for freedom, the responsibility of freedom, the possibility of freedom, and the reward of freedom.
Sometimes, the best things we teach, we teach unconsciously, inadvertently, and we only recognize them in hindsight.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Waldorf School Governance
The following questions and answers come from an email exchange regarding school governance and administration. I have removed all references to specific schools, places, times, and individuals.
1. How do “Waldorf schools” tend to be governed? What does it mean to have a style of governance that is consistent with and reflects Waldorf principles?
My view is that most Waldorf schools are not governed well. The 3 “spheres” to which Waldorf schools frequently refer—cultural, economic, political—exist in all schools, Waldorf and not. And these are not reflected, in my opinion, in bodies of the school--teachers, parents, trustees--that others claim correspond with Steiner’s ideas of a “threefold” social or institutional organization. What Steiner envisaged was three cooperative administrations—one for cultural (i.e., educational) questions (the faculty or college of teachers or council); one for economic questions (an association of producers and consumers); and one for legal or political questions and questions of rights (including expertise in this area and representing the rights of all—children, parents, teachers, admin., and trustees in a school…). I know of no Waldorf school that well represents this picture. To equate a group—say, trustees—with a “sphere”—say, legal/financial—is to confuse this picture (legal questions are separate from financial considerations, to a degree) and, in practice, to exclude other community members or stakeholders who have an interest in these areas. Steiner is clear in his writing on this question that each of us is an integral part of each administration, although we may have a greater personal stake in one or another. You have a chance to do it better!
2. How do other schools draw boundaries—or do they?—between decisions that are the purview of the faculty and those that are the purview of the Board? (And if overlap is recognized, how are decisions reached?) The decisions that have recently caused distress within our school have been ones where it seemed that there is inevitably an overlap between pedagogical concerns and concerns relating to such practical matters as enrollment, marketing, and tuition schedules.
Just as a brain that consists of working neurons needs an adequate blood supply, and muscles and bones need nervous apparatus to operate, there really are no decisions that belong to one group alone—ideally, a faculty group could have board representation (which would promote a better understanding between the 2 groups) just as boards often have teachers on them. (Emil Molt, who acted in the role closest to that of a trustee in the first Waldorf school attended faculty meetings.) The Board generally delegates day-to-day operation to the Faculty, but has a right—and need—to be informed of processes and decisions.
Decision-making is a stumbling block. Steiner didn’t care how decisions were made—aristocratic, democratic, or republican. He was concerned that those who were given responsibilities were given freedom to fulfill them. Most faculties in American Waldorf schools use some form of consensus decision-making process, but could do better to understand and refine this process. It seems to break down in the face of hard decisions, when, in fact, here it should be most closely followed. Boards often use Robert’s Rules or something similar. I believe this is fine; I do not favor consensus decision-making for Boards, which rely on the legal and financial expertise of their members.
I believe the most important principles include: 1.) joint decision-making between Board and Faculty, most especially when there is a need to make a tough decision; 2.) Clarity regarding process and personnel—who gets to make a decision and how the decision will be reached—prior to engaging the issue; 3.) Transparency to the community about the process and personnel (and timeline). Community members don’t need to have confidential conversations rehashed for them, but they have a right to know that a clear process was followed and to know who was involved in reaching the decision.
3. I am interested in the role of parents, or parent bodies, in Waldorf school governance—I hear reference to three groups (faculty, board, and a parent body) and I don’t know what they are each responsible for.
Parents are the economic engine of the school. Their tuition and fees provide the economic foundation for the work of the school. I don’t believe Waldorf schools acknowledge this simple point frequently enough. (Yes, individually we all understand this, but schools are not organized in a way that fully acknowledges this.) It is appropriate to have parent representation on the Board.
4. One of the things that has come to seem significant to me is that we have very different “cultures” in our faculty and board—faculty members see each other regularly, meet once a week, and share philosophies and professional common ground, and they operate on a consensus basis. Our Board overall has a certain common interest but much more diverse professional backgrounds than the faculty (we don’t even know what everyone does, for example), much greater diversity in our understanding and embodiment of Waldorf philosophies, we are very limited in our time together, and we operate in a rough sort of Roberts Rules format with majority rule. How does this “fit” the model offered by other schools? Is this desirable? Sustainable? Consistent with other Waldorf precedent?
I believe it fits with what other schools do. I believe it’s sustainable. It’s not undesirable, and you could change it over time to suit the needs of your community if you wanted to. Most Waldorf school boards micromanage (often in the absence of good clear management from the teachers/administration) instead of focusing on strategy, planning, budget, fundraising, etc. Board and faculty should meet socially at least twice a year (I’m basing this on experience; there’s no rule); they should meet to make joint decisions when necessary; and they should meet at least once a year to discuss vision, mission, etc. (more if they haven’t been engaged together in the past or, like your school, if you face major changes).
5. What might we expect over time? That is, are there special needs or challenges that are specific to our early stage (i.e., things that need special consideration now but that will pass), and what might be the things that are “permanent” or more specific to the future more mature stage?
Structure is necessary, but shouldn’t be confused with organization, which is living and changes as the needs of the school community change. Too often we believe that changing a governance structure will change an institution; if the same persons are involved in the work of the school, however, structural changes are unlikely to produce real change. Not to say that some structures aren’t better or more suitable or more efficient; there’s always room for improvement.
Managing cultural change is the necessary challenge, and requires greater ethics, communication, attention to process, willingness to compromise, transparency, etc. I believe one or a very small group can gradually change the culture of an institution, although it’s not easy. For one thing, it’s easier to change when times are good, although the incentive to change more often arises when times are tough. Getting agreement on a clear process (for example, by what process are new teachers hired?) is easiest in the abstract, not when a rift exists over the hiring of a particular candidate.
I believe the job of the administrator is to be a watch-dog and “connector” between others on these issues (ethics, communication, attention to process, willingness to compromise, transparency, timeliness, etc.)—she or he should, ideally, sit on the Board and College (and HR committee or other “rights” group of the school), as either voting member or ex-officio. She doesn’t belong only to one group, but serves them all. When I was a school administrator, I believed I was doing my job if the teachers believed I was listening too much to the parents and the parents believed I was listening too much to the teachers. (I worked with a particularly supportive board, but the same trust applies here, too.) Community trust in my ethics, compassion, communication, etc., was my only basic currency. If I was seen as partisan, I was ineffective.
1. How do “Waldorf schools” tend to be governed? What does it mean to have a style of governance that is consistent with and reflects Waldorf principles?
My view is that most Waldorf schools are not governed well. The 3 “spheres” to which Waldorf schools frequently refer—cultural, economic, political—exist in all schools, Waldorf and not. And these are not reflected, in my opinion, in bodies of the school--teachers, parents, trustees--that others claim correspond with Steiner’s ideas of a “threefold” social or institutional organization. What Steiner envisaged was three cooperative administrations—one for cultural (i.e., educational) questions (the faculty or college of teachers or council); one for economic questions (an association of producers and consumers); and one for legal or political questions and questions of rights (including expertise in this area and representing the rights of all—children, parents, teachers, admin., and trustees in a school…). I know of no Waldorf school that well represents this picture. To equate a group—say, trustees—with a “sphere”—say, legal/financial—is to confuse this picture (legal questions are separate from financial considerations, to a degree) and, in practice, to exclude other community members or stakeholders who have an interest in these areas. Steiner is clear in his writing on this question that each of us is an integral part of each administration, although we may have a greater personal stake in one or another. You have a chance to do it better!
2. How do other schools draw boundaries—or do they?—between decisions that are the purview of the faculty and those that are the purview of the Board? (And if overlap is recognized, how are decisions reached?) The decisions that have recently caused distress within our school have been ones where it seemed that there is inevitably an overlap between pedagogical concerns and concerns relating to such practical matters as enrollment, marketing, and tuition schedules.
Just as a brain that consists of working neurons needs an adequate blood supply, and muscles and bones need nervous apparatus to operate, there really are no decisions that belong to one group alone—ideally, a faculty group could have board representation (which would promote a better understanding between the 2 groups) just as boards often have teachers on them. (Emil Molt, who acted in the role closest to that of a trustee in the first Waldorf school attended faculty meetings.) The Board generally delegates day-to-day operation to the Faculty, but has a right—and need—to be informed of processes and decisions.
Decision-making is a stumbling block. Steiner didn’t care how decisions were made—aristocratic, democratic, or republican. He was concerned that those who were given responsibilities were given freedom to fulfill them. Most faculties in American Waldorf schools use some form of consensus decision-making process, but could do better to understand and refine this process. It seems to break down in the face of hard decisions, when, in fact, here it should be most closely followed. Boards often use Robert’s Rules or something similar. I believe this is fine; I do not favor consensus decision-making for Boards, which rely on the legal and financial expertise of their members.
I believe the most important principles include: 1.) joint decision-making between Board and Faculty, most especially when there is a need to make a tough decision; 2.) Clarity regarding process and personnel—who gets to make a decision and how the decision will be reached—prior to engaging the issue; 3.) Transparency to the community about the process and personnel (and timeline). Community members don’t need to have confidential conversations rehashed for them, but they have a right to know that a clear process was followed and to know who was involved in reaching the decision.
3. I am interested in the role of parents, or parent bodies, in Waldorf school governance—I hear reference to three groups (faculty, board, and a parent body) and I don’t know what they are each responsible for.
Parents are the economic engine of the school. Their tuition and fees provide the economic foundation for the work of the school. I don’t believe Waldorf schools acknowledge this simple point frequently enough. (Yes, individually we all understand this, but schools are not organized in a way that fully acknowledges this.) It is appropriate to have parent representation on the Board.
4. One of the things that has come to seem significant to me is that we have very different “cultures” in our faculty and board—faculty members see each other regularly, meet once a week, and share philosophies and professional common ground, and they operate on a consensus basis. Our Board overall has a certain common interest but much more diverse professional backgrounds than the faculty (we don’t even know what everyone does, for example), much greater diversity in our understanding and embodiment of Waldorf philosophies, we are very limited in our time together, and we operate in a rough sort of Roberts Rules format with majority rule. How does this “fit” the model offered by other schools? Is this desirable? Sustainable? Consistent with other Waldorf precedent?
I believe it fits with what other schools do. I believe it’s sustainable. It’s not undesirable, and you could change it over time to suit the needs of your community if you wanted to. Most Waldorf school boards micromanage (often in the absence of good clear management from the teachers/administration) instead of focusing on strategy, planning, budget, fundraising, etc. Board and faculty should meet socially at least twice a year (I’m basing this on experience; there’s no rule); they should meet to make joint decisions when necessary; and they should meet at least once a year to discuss vision, mission, etc. (more if they haven’t been engaged together in the past or, like your school, if you face major changes).
5. What might we expect over time? That is, are there special needs or challenges that are specific to our early stage (i.e., things that need special consideration now but that will pass), and what might be the things that are “permanent” or more specific to the future more mature stage?
Structure is necessary, but shouldn’t be confused with organization, which is living and changes as the needs of the school community change. Too often we believe that changing a governance structure will change an institution; if the same persons are involved in the work of the school, however, structural changes are unlikely to produce real change. Not to say that some structures aren’t better or more suitable or more efficient; there’s always room for improvement.
Managing cultural change is the necessary challenge, and requires greater ethics, communication, attention to process, willingness to compromise, transparency, etc. I believe one or a very small group can gradually change the culture of an institution, although it’s not easy. For one thing, it’s easier to change when times are good, although the incentive to change more often arises when times are tough. Getting agreement on a clear process (for example, by what process are new teachers hired?) is easiest in the abstract, not when a rift exists over the hiring of a particular candidate.
I believe the job of the administrator is to be a watch-dog and “connector” between others on these issues (ethics, communication, attention to process, willingness to compromise, transparency, timeliness, etc.)—she or he should, ideally, sit on the Board and College (and HR committee or other “rights” group of the school), as either voting member or ex-officio. She doesn’t belong only to one group, but serves them all. When I was a school administrator, I believed I was doing my job if the teachers believed I was listening too much to the parents and the parents believed I was listening too much to the teachers. (I worked with a particularly supportive board, but the same trust applies here, too.) Community trust in my ethics, compassion, communication, etc., was my only basic currency. If I was seen as partisan, I was ineffective.
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