What follows is another brief exchange on administration in a Waldorf school. The questions are from a person thinking of applying to work in a Waldorf school; the responses are mine.
What I have seen in the Waldorf schools I have been associated with are Administrators who have no Waldorf training background or Anthroposophical study (or interest, for that matter).
It seems to me that this is just not workable in the long run—how can the administrator gain the trust of the teachers without at least some real interest? In one school at which I worked, however, one administrator was an anthroposophist through and through but then not a good administrator. This person would sit in the office talking about the influence of Jupiter while the bookkeeper’s questions went unanswered… That was a disaster and the person ended up losing the job. So some interest in anthroposophy is probably essential, but that alone, of course, isn’t sufficient.
It also appears to be a relatively new concept for a Waldorf school to allow someone outside of the faculty to assist with the running of the school. Having been an administrator for a lot of my previous career, I see this as a positive move for the sustainability of Waldorf schools, if a school can afford that position.
I agree, and I think there are differences between what Steiner meant by “administration,” which really has to do with things that impact the children’s experiences in the classrooms, and what we now call “governance,” which includes lots of things that the first Waldorf school simply didn’t have to deal with (and, I’ll bet, when they did have to deal with such things, Emil Molt, not the administrative committee of the teachers, handled them), things like admissions, business management, publicity, development, etc.
I also believe that the role of Administrator is probably different in each school, meeting the school's needs where it is and helping to carry it where it needs to go.
I couldn’t agree more. There is no blueprint. Each school is a different organism.
That being said, do you find that there are some "general" experiences that prove to be beneficial in being an Administrator (qualifications, etc)?
Yes—things that any good administrator would have—organization, a sense for the whole, an even temper, mediation and facilitation skills, management (of admin. staff) skills, strategic thinking, and on and on… And, in my experience, I had to develop what I didn’t have!
Is it necessary to have been a Waldorf teacher? (I know you say it is optimal, but I agree that usually a teacher prefers a classroom--administration, being a part of a team, requires another set of skills--at least that's been my experience).
No, not necessary. BUT I believe it’s powerful (and perhaps, according to Steiner, necessary) for an administrator to teach, even if just a period or two per week—if nothing else, the administrator can have a third grade reading group, for example, or teach a middle school main lesson block, or whatever matches with her or his abilities. This contact with students is invaluable—it keeps an administrator “grounded” in the work of the school.
I also wonder if the skills I have in being a director/administrator for several programs for children would be useful in the administration of a Waldorf school? Are they "universally translatable" skills? Or do they need to be more anthrophosophically based?
Yes, I believe solid administrative skills are directly translatable. More than 90% of the work is the same from organization to organization. It’s also valuable to have a solid understanding of Steiner’s work on threefold organization because of the way it informs so much of the rhetoric around Waldorf school governance, administration, and organization. And it’s NOT well understood, in my experience. An administrator who is willing to develop a good understanding of this aspect of work in a school can be invaluable to the institution.
Showing posts with label governance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label governance. Show all posts
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, November 8, 2010
Threefold Social Organization and Waldorf School Governance
According to Rudolf Steiner, social organizations should have three cooperative but independent administrations—one to administer economic functions, one to administer rights and responsibilities of members of the organization, and one to administer what he calls the spiritual or cultural functions—he uses these words interchangeably in discussions of social questions—of the organization. These three administrations scale to cover the smallest institutions and the largest social groups. One administration may consider itself more central than the others to the mission of a particular organization, but all must balance if the organization is to maintain itself in health. A school, for instance, could mirror a theocracy if educational concerns are used to trump or bully the genuine concerns of the rights of its consumers.
This example points to the intuitive correctness of Steiner’s view. Take the opposite view; do we believe that justice should be bought and sold, or that the state should govern religion? For those seeking a more conventional (but no less difficult to comprehend) statement of a view of the theefold structure of society, Jurgen Habermas’s concept of a “lifeworld,” discussed in detail in the second volume of his Theory of Communicative Action, outlines a view that is essentially the same as Steiner’s. For Habermas, every communicative act—asking a question, making a statement—expresses all three of the human subsystems of thinking, feeling, and will. (That is, the most rigorous thought is still communicated with some emotional investment and some intention of will; the most emotional outburst still gives evidence of a thought and an intention, and so on.) Further, every communicative act, in that it is directed from one person to another or to a group of others, extends the human capacities of thinking, feeling, and will into a social interaction. Thinking extended into social interaction we may call culture; feeling extended becomes politics; and will extended concerns economic relations.
For Steiner, an economic administration should function according to a principle of solidarity (Steiner says “brotherhood,” but we should update this) through an “association of producers, distributors, and consumers.” For a school, a child’s education is a product in the economic sphere. It is more than this, but it is also this. Hence, a school should have an administrative body that is comprised of producers—representatives of teachers and staff—and consumers—representatives of the parent body as proxies for their children. Such an administration, to ensure that its work is legal and effective, will also require legal and financial expertise. (Introducing expertise of any kind, we should acknowledge, introduces something from the spiritual-cultural sphere.)
The work of this administration is to balance the needs, desires, and resources of producers and consumers to produce a budget and to plan for the future. Clearly, this administrative body may be identified with a school’s board of trustees.
An administration of the spiritual-cultural area of a school functions according to a principle of freedom, and so—despite tradition and received wisdom—it is difficult if not impossible to say how this administration will or should be governed. It might operate as a so-called College of Teachers that uses a consensus decision-making model, but, in freedom, there is no requirement that it do so.
Steiner did not specify a decision-making process for cultural organizations (and, if he did, we would still have to decide for ourselves whether or not we agree with his statements), and, in fact, in the meetings to reorganize the Anthroposophical Society in 1923-1924, stated that the process mattered little and should be left up to individual groups. One group might choose to function aristocratically, another more democratically. His position was that the structure mattered less than the persons involved, and that those chosen to carry out a task be given the freedom to do it. I believe his views here on constituting the administration of branches of the Society are directly applicable to constituting the administration of a Waldorf school. And, in the first Waldorf School, Steiner was the Director, appointed by acclamation (not by vote).
A spiritual-cultural administration consists of the teachers in the school, regardless of how they structure their governance or decision-making. As Steiner said, “no one who is not a teacher is to have anything to say [about how education is conducted].” Powerful words, if true. Of course, visiting teachers—consultants, mentors—and doctors and therapists who work with the students in a school may be included. But that’s about it. In a Waldorf school we may call this group the College of Teachers, the Core Faculty, the Council, or something else. We may worry that it is too small and too exclusive (and then work to make it larger and more inclusive—there are many ways to do this), but this is the body in most Waldorf schools that corresponds to the free administration of the spiritual-cultural life of a school.
And the work of this administration is the education of students.
A third administration, an administration of rights and responsibilities, which functions democratically according to a principle of equality, should clearly include representatives of every constituency of the school community, anyone who has any rights within the organization, anyone who has any responsibilities to the organization. Here we include students, parents, teachers, staff, alumni, retired faculty and staff, and even donors. All have some number of rights and responsibilities to the organism of the school. These include legally recognized rights, and so this administration requires legal representation, if not at every meeting, at least as a resource on-call.
(I use “rights and responsibilities” because I believe that to be a more revealing phrase in this context than “politics,” a word that is tainted in contemporary colloquial use, and more revealing than “legal,” which doesn’t go far enough to describe what I’m talking about. And I include “responsibilities” because these are clearly conceptually necessary, with rights, to describe what I’m talking about. Steiner includes them, although this is often overlooked or forgotten. To call it a “rights” administration alone indulges a kind of knee-jerk American selfishness—I’ll insist on my rights—and ignores the obligations that we owe each other in social interactions.)
Rights are myriad. Perhaps they begin with clear legally recognized rights, but they also include the policies and procedures of the school. Among other things, for instance, applicants have a right to a clear response to their application in a reasonable time. Responsibilities, too, are myriad. Parents must pay their bills. Teachers must engage in appropriate professional development. Breach of rights or responsibilities is reason for discipline or termination.
Policies, procedures, working conditions, contracts, all belong to this administration. Its work is to set and negotiate the boundaries within which the human beings in the organization conduct their work.
Often, it seems, this work is fragmented in Waldorf schools, is not given to one administration. The Board sets its own policies and procedures, as does the College of Teachers or Council. The support staff (administrative staff) may do the same. A Human Resources committee may assume responsibility for some aspects of this work.
This fragmentation may lead to confusion and miscommunication among parents, teachers, and board members. Dysfunction in this area seems to plague Waldorf schools, and I would say that this is, in part, because schools are clear about the function of a Board and a College but remarkably unclear about the function of this third administration—in fact, there is usually no single name we can use to designate it in a Waldorf school, and there is no single administrative body that consists of representatives of all the constituencies of the school.
(In many schools, the Board may see this administration as part of its legal function, but may then micromanage, fail to distinguish properly between economic concerns and those of rights and responsibilities, or fail to constitute and empower a committee that can take full responsibility for this work. Similarly, Colleges of Teachers may fail to distinguish their appropriate educational function from that of a separate rights and responsibilities administration.)
Schools would undoubtedly be stronger if there was a single administrative team, constituted according to correct principles, that oversaw this work. As it is, too often, policies are weak or incomplete, forgotten or ignored, or simply absent, sending persons of otherwise good will up a wall and out of a school.
As a test case, we might ask first about a clear process for terminating a teacher who is not fulfilling her responsibilities to her students or the school. Schools accomplish this, but often with far greater ill will and rancor than sister institutions (that don’t claim to have such an idealistic view of the world but that function with better management and clarity). And as a second test case, we might ask about a clear process and procedure for terminating this person if she is the Faculty Chair or other person who might otherwise be central to the termination of another colleague. Is there a safety valve or a back door?
Democracy here does not imply voting, or not voting alone. Dewey’s broad definition of democracy as “conjoint community” may point us in the right direction. Decision-making may be democratic and consensus-driven (within legal boundaries), or it may be representational and use some other decision-making process. The point is that all voices are heard and considered.
(I am indebted to my students at Sunbridge Institute for helping me clarify several aspects of this article; it attempts to summarize a week of work in an intensive course on school governance.)
This example points to the intuitive correctness of Steiner’s view. Take the opposite view; do we believe that justice should be bought and sold, or that the state should govern religion? For those seeking a more conventional (but no less difficult to comprehend) statement of a view of the theefold structure of society, Jurgen Habermas’s concept of a “lifeworld,” discussed in detail in the second volume of his Theory of Communicative Action, outlines a view that is essentially the same as Steiner’s. For Habermas, every communicative act—asking a question, making a statement—expresses all three of the human subsystems of thinking, feeling, and will. (That is, the most rigorous thought is still communicated with some emotional investment and some intention of will; the most emotional outburst still gives evidence of a thought and an intention, and so on.) Further, every communicative act, in that it is directed from one person to another or to a group of others, extends the human capacities of thinking, feeling, and will into a social interaction. Thinking extended into social interaction we may call culture; feeling extended becomes politics; and will extended concerns economic relations.
For Steiner, an economic administration should function according to a principle of solidarity (Steiner says “brotherhood,” but we should update this) through an “association of producers, distributors, and consumers.” For a school, a child’s education is a product in the economic sphere. It is more than this, but it is also this. Hence, a school should have an administrative body that is comprised of producers—representatives of teachers and staff—and consumers—representatives of the parent body as proxies for their children. Such an administration, to ensure that its work is legal and effective, will also require legal and financial expertise. (Introducing expertise of any kind, we should acknowledge, introduces something from the spiritual-cultural sphere.)
The work of this administration is to balance the needs, desires, and resources of producers and consumers to produce a budget and to plan for the future. Clearly, this administrative body may be identified with a school’s board of trustees.
An administration of the spiritual-cultural area of a school functions according to a principle of freedom, and so—despite tradition and received wisdom—it is difficult if not impossible to say how this administration will or should be governed. It might operate as a so-called College of Teachers that uses a consensus decision-making model, but, in freedom, there is no requirement that it do so.
Steiner did not specify a decision-making process for cultural organizations (and, if he did, we would still have to decide for ourselves whether or not we agree with his statements), and, in fact, in the meetings to reorganize the Anthroposophical Society in 1923-1924, stated that the process mattered little and should be left up to individual groups. One group might choose to function aristocratically, another more democratically. His position was that the structure mattered less than the persons involved, and that those chosen to carry out a task be given the freedom to do it. I believe his views here on constituting the administration of branches of the Society are directly applicable to constituting the administration of a Waldorf school. And, in the first Waldorf School, Steiner was the Director, appointed by acclamation (not by vote).
A spiritual-cultural administration consists of the teachers in the school, regardless of how they structure their governance or decision-making. As Steiner said, “no one who is not a teacher is to have anything to say [about how education is conducted].” Powerful words, if true. Of course, visiting teachers—consultants, mentors—and doctors and therapists who work with the students in a school may be included. But that’s about it. In a Waldorf school we may call this group the College of Teachers, the Core Faculty, the Council, or something else. We may worry that it is too small and too exclusive (and then work to make it larger and more inclusive—there are many ways to do this), but this is the body in most Waldorf schools that corresponds to the free administration of the spiritual-cultural life of a school.
And the work of this administration is the education of students.
A third administration, an administration of rights and responsibilities, which functions democratically according to a principle of equality, should clearly include representatives of every constituency of the school community, anyone who has any rights within the organization, anyone who has any responsibilities to the organization. Here we include students, parents, teachers, staff, alumni, retired faculty and staff, and even donors. All have some number of rights and responsibilities to the organism of the school. These include legally recognized rights, and so this administration requires legal representation, if not at every meeting, at least as a resource on-call.
(I use “rights and responsibilities” because I believe that to be a more revealing phrase in this context than “politics,” a word that is tainted in contemporary colloquial use, and more revealing than “legal,” which doesn’t go far enough to describe what I’m talking about. And I include “responsibilities” because these are clearly conceptually necessary, with rights, to describe what I’m talking about. Steiner includes them, although this is often overlooked or forgotten. To call it a “rights” administration alone indulges a kind of knee-jerk American selfishness—I’ll insist on my rights—and ignores the obligations that we owe each other in social interactions.)
Rights are myriad. Perhaps they begin with clear legally recognized rights, but they also include the policies and procedures of the school. Among other things, for instance, applicants have a right to a clear response to their application in a reasonable time. Responsibilities, too, are myriad. Parents must pay their bills. Teachers must engage in appropriate professional development. Breach of rights or responsibilities is reason for discipline or termination.
Policies, procedures, working conditions, contracts, all belong to this administration. Its work is to set and negotiate the boundaries within which the human beings in the organization conduct their work.
Often, it seems, this work is fragmented in Waldorf schools, is not given to one administration. The Board sets its own policies and procedures, as does the College of Teachers or Council. The support staff (administrative staff) may do the same. A Human Resources committee may assume responsibility for some aspects of this work.
This fragmentation may lead to confusion and miscommunication among parents, teachers, and board members. Dysfunction in this area seems to plague Waldorf schools, and I would say that this is, in part, because schools are clear about the function of a Board and a College but remarkably unclear about the function of this third administration—in fact, there is usually no single name we can use to designate it in a Waldorf school, and there is no single administrative body that consists of representatives of all the constituencies of the school.
(In many schools, the Board may see this administration as part of its legal function, but may then micromanage, fail to distinguish properly between economic concerns and those of rights and responsibilities, or fail to constitute and empower a committee that can take full responsibility for this work. Similarly, Colleges of Teachers may fail to distinguish their appropriate educational function from that of a separate rights and responsibilities administration.)
Schools would undoubtedly be stronger if there was a single administrative team, constituted according to correct principles, that oversaw this work. As it is, too often, policies are weak or incomplete, forgotten or ignored, or simply absent, sending persons of otherwise good will up a wall and out of a school.
As a test case, we might ask first about a clear process for terminating a teacher who is not fulfilling her responsibilities to her students or the school. Schools accomplish this, but often with far greater ill will and rancor than sister institutions (that don’t claim to have such an idealistic view of the world but that function with better management and clarity). And as a second test case, we might ask about a clear process and procedure for terminating this person if she is the Faculty Chair or other person who might otherwise be central to the termination of another colleague. Is there a safety valve or a back door?
Democracy here does not imply voting, or not voting alone. Dewey’s broad definition of democracy as “conjoint community” may point us in the right direction. Decision-making may be democratic and consensus-driven (within legal boundaries), or it may be representational and use some other decision-making process. The point is that all voices are heard and considered.
(I am indebted to my students at Sunbridge Institute for helping me clarify several aspects of this article; it attempts to summarize a week of work in an intensive course on school governance.)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
More on Administration...
The following entry is in response to this comment:
Dear Steve, I came across your blog for the first time today and was impressed by [the] exchange on school governance. A writer myself, I am very interested in education and foundation lessons, which really get to the heart of the matter. I really responded to your words and was curious to know your specific thoughts on Administration, and what advice you would give to others on best practice.
In this piece, you also talk about structure, and I wondered what was lightest possible administrative structure you've encountered or could envisage?
Yours most warmly,
Nicola
First (I’m assuming you have some familiarity with Waldorf schools; if not, I’d be happy to answer questions), Rudolf Steiner never said that Waldorf schools should be “faculty run;” the phrase he used was “self-administered,” by which I believe he meant “not administered by the state.” Which is to say, much more the case for U.S. schools than for most European schools—we have always enjoyed greater local control and freedom in how we educate our youth than have nations with more powerful ministries of education. (I’ve read that the Federal government provides roughly 10% of educational funding in the U.S. and 90% of the—mostly unfunded—directives and mandates.)
Given this, it’s really tough to say that a good administrator in a Waldorf school should be somehow different (beyond her commitment to the mission of the school) from an administrator at another school. In my experience, the toughest part of the administrator’s job is gaining the trust of the teachers. For this reason alone, it may be good for Waldorf schools to select an experienced teacher to hold this position. The problem is that it’s a rare teacher who can be a good administrator. And if the administrator is seen by parents as being partial to teachers’ points of view, trust erodes quickly.
On the other hand, the peculiar structure of Waldorf schools requires any administrator to adapt to the school. By this, I refer primarily to the tension that often exists among parents, boards, and teachers’ councils or colleges, especially when times are tough. Most Waldorf schools, by bylaw or practice, for example, simply don’t give the power to hire and fire to one person. So an administrator, then, becomes a diplomat—lots of responsibility, little authority—carrying messages from one camp to the other, attempting to negotiate a peaceful settlement.
When you ask about minimal structure, I think of the school at which I currently work. I’m a full-time teacher and the only (part-time) administrator. We have an office manager/assistant here three mornings a week. We have an off-site, hourly bookkeeper, and a volunteer treasurer. Teachers pitch in to help with admissions events, open houses, and so on. Trustees (volunteers) handle fundraising. Our Core Faculty (about 7 teachers) meets weekly. Our Board meets monthly. We have as close to no administrative structure as it’s possible to have, I believe.
By contrast, I know a school that was advised by a highly paid professional to hire a full-time fundraiser. The school did this and, three years in, has yet to raise close to the cost of the fundraiser’s salary and benefits. And I don’t believe this is a comment on the fundraiser’s ability—more on the school’s inability to see that their situation, despite the recommendation of a consultant, simply doesn’t warrant one full-time person devoted to development.
In creating structure, it’s too easy, I believe, to copy what everyone else does—admissions officer, development, business manager, administrator, etc.—even when the numbers don’t justify it.
This brings up another point, which is that of scale. Small schools can break even; large schools can break even. Smallish schools that act like large schools, however, will lose money. And no private school can afford to do that for long. And there is a “deadly middle ground.” For many private schools, it occurs between roughly 60 students and 150-200 students. This middle ground is precisely where many Waldorf high schools find themselves, unfortunately.
In growing from a small school to a larger school, schools add administration as they grow, and are happy for the increase in students. When, a few years later, perhaps, enrollment declines, rather than facing the actuality of the situation (there was a time when they would have been overjoyed to have as many students as they are now groaning about), they often freeze salaries, cut salaries, add to workloads or otherwise diminish the morale of the school.
Which brings up another point: When schools act like their real business is providing support for a community of like-minded adults, rather than doing all they can to educate the children in their care as well as possible (and, in the process, spend the parents’ tuition dollars as wisely and efficiently as possible), they quickly lose their way, creating a vicious spiral that leads to further loss of enrollment…
I don’t know if this addresses your basic questions; sorry if it contains too much opinion or too many digressions…
Dear Steve, I came across your blog for the first time today and was impressed by [the] exchange on school governance. A writer myself, I am very interested in education and foundation lessons, which really get to the heart of the matter. I really responded to your words and was curious to know your specific thoughts on Administration, and what advice you would give to others on best practice.
In this piece, you also talk about structure, and I wondered what was lightest possible administrative structure you've encountered or could envisage?
Yours most warmly,
Nicola
First (I’m assuming you have some familiarity with Waldorf schools; if not, I’d be happy to answer questions), Rudolf Steiner never said that Waldorf schools should be “faculty run;” the phrase he used was “self-administered,” by which I believe he meant “not administered by the state.” Which is to say, much more the case for U.S. schools than for most European schools—we have always enjoyed greater local control and freedom in how we educate our youth than have nations with more powerful ministries of education. (I’ve read that the Federal government provides roughly 10% of educational funding in the U.S. and 90% of the—mostly unfunded—directives and mandates.)
Given this, it’s really tough to say that a good administrator in a Waldorf school should be somehow different (beyond her commitment to the mission of the school) from an administrator at another school. In my experience, the toughest part of the administrator’s job is gaining the trust of the teachers. For this reason alone, it may be good for Waldorf schools to select an experienced teacher to hold this position. The problem is that it’s a rare teacher who can be a good administrator. And if the administrator is seen by parents as being partial to teachers’ points of view, trust erodes quickly.
On the other hand, the peculiar structure of Waldorf schools requires any administrator to adapt to the school. By this, I refer primarily to the tension that often exists among parents, boards, and teachers’ councils or colleges, especially when times are tough. Most Waldorf schools, by bylaw or practice, for example, simply don’t give the power to hire and fire to one person. So an administrator, then, becomes a diplomat—lots of responsibility, little authority—carrying messages from one camp to the other, attempting to negotiate a peaceful settlement.
When you ask about minimal structure, I think of the school at which I currently work. I’m a full-time teacher and the only (part-time) administrator. We have an office manager/assistant here three mornings a week. We have an off-site, hourly bookkeeper, and a volunteer treasurer. Teachers pitch in to help with admissions events, open houses, and so on. Trustees (volunteers) handle fundraising. Our Core Faculty (about 7 teachers) meets weekly. Our Board meets monthly. We have as close to no administrative structure as it’s possible to have, I believe.
By contrast, I know a school that was advised by a highly paid professional to hire a full-time fundraiser. The school did this and, three years in, has yet to raise close to the cost of the fundraiser’s salary and benefits. And I don’t believe this is a comment on the fundraiser’s ability—more on the school’s inability to see that their situation, despite the recommendation of a consultant, simply doesn’t warrant one full-time person devoted to development.
In creating structure, it’s too easy, I believe, to copy what everyone else does—admissions officer, development, business manager, administrator, etc.—even when the numbers don’t justify it.
This brings up another point, which is that of scale. Small schools can break even; large schools can break even. Smallish schools that act like large schools, however, will lose money. And no private school can afford to do that for long. And there is a “deadly middle ground.” For many private schools, it occurs between roughly 60 students and 150-200 students. This middle ground is precisely where many Waldorf high schools find themselves, unfortunately.
In growing from a small school to a larger school, schools add administration as they grow, and are happy for the increase in students. When, a few years later, perhaps, enrollment declines, rather than facing the actuality of the situation (there was a time when they would have been overjoyed to have as many students as they are now groaning about), they often freeze salaries, cut salaries, add to workloads or otherwise diminish the morale of the school.
Which brings up another point: When schools act like their real business is providing support for a community of like-minded adults, rather than doing all they can to educate the children in their care as well as possible (and, in the process, spend the parents’ tuition dollars as wisely and efficiently as possible), they quickly lose their way, creating a vicious spiral that leads to further loss of enrollment…
I don’t know if this addresses your basic questions; sorry if it contains too much opinion or too many digressions…
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.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A Restaurant without a Chef
—Do your fuckin’ jobs.
—Understand each other’s jobs.
—Keep talking to one another.
—We’ve all got to pull on the fuckin’ rope.
—Fight for your reputation.
—Consistent quality is key to ensuring repeat business.
—You never, ever throw the towel in on service.
—No matter how good the food is, you’ve really got to understand every aspect of your business.
These are the words of Chef Gordon Ramsay on his BBC television show, “Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares,” which presents weekly case studies from which Waldorf schools could learn a lot.
In each episode, Ramsay spends a week with a failing restaurant. He diagnoses the blocks to success, works with owners, staff, and chef to reinvigorate the business, and returns a few weeks later to evaluate the results. These are usually remarkably good.
Ramsay is a famously foul-mouthed, pugnacious, potato-faced perfectionist. The show works because of his passion, energy, expertise, and honesty. It also works because, underneath his brutal exterior, Ramsay cares profoundly about both people and food.
The plot of each episode is the same. A restaurant has lost its direction, passion, pride, and energy. This is generally due to a lack of leadership, a lack of respect and trust among colleagues, a lack of communication, and a lack of clarity regarding roles. These lacks are felt but unaddressed among the human beings in the institution, but they are also apparent in the food, which is poorly cooked, and the menu, which is usually too long and too complex. These lacks are manifest even in the appearance of the kitchen, which is usually filthy, and the restaurant itself, which is usually in need of paint and redecoration. Owners, managers, and chefs hear and register the rare compliments, and don’t hear or rationalize away the more frequent criticisms, direct from customers or implicit in returned food and empty seats. They know they need to change—the business is failing—but are afraid of change, or don’t know what to change, or don’t know how to begin, or, in the most perplexing cases, don’t know when to give up on a failing ideology.
The parts reflect the whole, and Ramsay addresses each part in each episode. There is no top-down reform, from owner to chef to staff; there is also no grassroots activism—patrons simply don’t show up, voting with their pocketbooks and bellies. Ramsay’s reforms attack all aspects of the business simultaneously. Ramsay meets with owners, chefs, and staff, cajoling, threatening, teaching. He is part therapist, part consultant. As wealthy chef-owner of several famous restaurants, Ramsay knows the business and gives simple advice that works. Each episode shows him cooking, painting, observing, rolling up his sleeves wherever necessary to demonstrate change.
Ramsay’s principles can be distilled to these:
· The best measure of success is a restaurant full of satisfied customers.
· Achieve success by offering good food, well cooked and well served, at fair prices (Ramsay almost invariably simplifies the menu and lowers the prices).
· Function as a team.
Owner, chef, manager, and staff must understand and fulfill their roles without overstepping boundaries. Each must treat the others with understanding and respect. (Depending on the person and the restaurant, we see chefs who cannot control or communicate with assistant chefs, owners who cannot help meddling in the kitchen, nervous servers who vacillate between tables and kitchen, not communicating with either, and so on.)
· Respect the customers.
When he is successful in his reforms, which is most of the time, a couple of things stand out:
· The menu is simpler, the food fresher, and prices lower than they had been.
· Employees who appeared at the start to be hopeless, to be begging to be fired, save their jobs and fulfill their roles in the business. Clearly, it is easier to manage the function of someone who knows the business but is underperforming than it is to find someone better. While this may not be Ramsay’s personal view, his show demonstrates that competence is situational and learned. Teach an employee her role, define it clearly, support and respect her in it, and a formerly incompetent person appears almost magically competent.
Other lessons become clear as you watch Ramsay’s show:
· Institutional and cultural change are possible.
· Radical change can occur quickly.
· Simple changes can have large effects.
Time after time, uptight, inefficient, lethargic, unhappy, uncommunicative, incompetent employees in a dirty, ugly restaurant transform themselves into relaxed, efficient, energetic, happy, communicative, competent workers in a clean, attractive restaurant. This is the magic of the show.
The Waldorf Restaurant
The parallels between the restaurant business and Waldorf schools are so clear that they are not even analogies; they are two manifestations of the same phenomenon.
The “owner” is the Board of Trustees. The owner decides what sort of restaurant this is, provides the capital to start and maintain it, and hires the right manager and chef to ensure that it is as good as it can be. The owner should have enough confidence in his or her employees not to meddle in day-to-day affairs and the owner must be willing to invest in the success of the business. (Initially, roles among teachers, board, and parents may overlap; over time, a healthy institution will differentiate appropriate and clearly defined roles for each group.)
The teachers are the kitchen staff, each preparing and presenting his or her portion of the menu as well as possible. When every assistant and sous chef acts like a head chef, however, the dysfunction is immediate and profound. Too many cooks… well, it’s true. When roles are ill-defined, time and energy are wasted, communication suffers, and the menu loses coherence.
The menu is the curriculum, and, more than that, the education as a whole. When everyone understands it, the mission of the restaurant—to deliver this menu as well as possible—is clear.
The “front of the house,” such as the maitre ’d and servers, are the staff of the school, such as the administrator, business manager, admissions director, and development director. They represent the restaurant to the customers, presenting a line of communication (and defense) between the kitchen and the dining room. When they are out of the loop—when they aren’t included in an understanding of the menu and kitchen function, they simply can’t do their jobs.
The parents, as adult proxies for their children and as those who pay the bills, are the customers.
The Missing Chef
But where is the chef? Who created this menu? Who takes responsibility for it? The answer is telling. Rudolf Steiner is the chef, and he died in 1925. I believe this absence is among the greatest obstacles to the success of Waldorf schools. Waldorf schools are like a once-great restaurant that is trying valiantly to maintain its position despite the lack of the creative leadership that it once enjoyed.
How can Waldorf schools address this absence? There is no single right or appropriate model. Democratic or aristocratic, consensus decision-making or mandates, it doesn’t matter. Each school community must solve this conundrum for itself. There are many ways to do this well.
There are several ways to go wrong, too. Slavish adherence to a menu and cooking techniques from 1925 create an anachronism that may succeed as a tourist attraction (Waldorf schools as Colonial Williamsburg) but has lost its vitality. Lack of respect for the chef—lip service, unwillingness to understand and engage with his ideas—will also lead to a restaurant that may succeed for a time, but if it represents itself as a continuation of the old, venerated restaurant will soon be seen to be phony.
Waldorf schools today are not willing to look for a Director (although they could)—the position Steiner held in Stuttgart and the position offered by the Steiner School in New York City in the 1930s to Hermann von Baravalle (he refused). No more headmasters, I’ve been told, although why not is rarely explained. The difficult path forward, if we are not simply to hire someone as chef, however, is to form a committee or a system of committees to negotiate between the original menu and techniques of the master chef and the demands and changes of time and place and technique since then. We can call the committee an executive committee, a Council or College of teachers, it hardly matters.
Imagine, however, a restaurant run by a committee. That’s the challenge that faces Waldorf schools: replacing a chef, a leader in the kitchen, with a group that can work harmoniously to write a clear, coherent menu and deliver delicious, well-prepared, well-served food at a good price.
In a restaurant, if the chef is not performing, the owner can fire him or her. Waldorf teachers too often use ideological excuses to distance the Board from its watchdog role—you aren’t anthroposophists, so you don’t understand; Waldorf schools are supposed to be “faculty run” (they’re not; this is perhaps the most harmful myth regarding Waldorf schools in North America in the 20th century). Without board oversight, a Council or College is asked to hire, support, evaluate and possibly terminate colleagues. These roles contain clear conflicts of interest—mentoring and support should never overlap with evaluation and dismissal—and require equals to assume (temporarily) hierarchical roles that the institution, too often, doesn’t acknowledge. The Board legally empowers one person—a faculty chair, an administrator—or a group—a personnel committee—to serve in this role. If those charged with this responsibility are not doing their job, it is the Board’s right and responsibility to alter the situation. We harm our schools when we pretend this is not so.
Working for Health
Some guidelines for reform or a healthy existence, extensions of Ramsay’s principles, leap to mind:
· Clarify and put in writing roles and processes—job descriptions, committee mandates, governance structure, and decision-making processes. (When in doubt, decide how the institution as a whole will proceed and include all stakeholders in the decision. When in doubt, take a step back; there are few real emergencies.) I have seen too many Waldorf schools, for example, that are simply incapable of drawing a coherent diagram of their own governance structure. Take a simple hypothetical decision—whether or not to fire a particular teacher, for example—and try to determine the precise process, personnel, and communication steps involved in seeing this through. Where does the buck stop? Overlapping circles or diagrams with arrows that ultimately circle back on themselves demonstrate looming dysfunction.
· Empower Board, Administrator, and Council or College to monitor performance—all performance; teachers, staff, administration, and board.
· Support real, documented professional development, especially for new hires.
· Work for clarity of purpose with all employees of the institution. If the person who answers the phone doesn’t represent the school as a whole, the school is losing huge opportunities to advance itself.
· Observe, listen to, and respect the customers, the parents; include them appropriately (but not in decision-making, and don’t lead them to believe they’ll be included). Patrons can request a meal that’s not on the menu in a restaurant, but the restaurant as an institution has to decide whether or not it will provide one, and, if so, how and at what price. And when it communicates its decision, it should do so politely and firmly.
· Put children first.
Schools Are Not Restaurants
Clearly, the complexity, scope, and non-profit status of most Waldorf schools make the parallels between restaurants and schools diverge at some points. A school’s curriculum and methods are far more complex than the wildest menu, and the cost of one year of private education is greater than the most expensive dinner. Parents’ commitments to their children far exceed a restaurant patrons’ commitments to their appetites on any given evening. Also, schools are idealistic—worse, ideological. Also, as non-profit institutions, schools do not measure themselves according to profits and can long ignore the bottom line. A failing restaurant is easy to spot; a failing or dysfunctional school is harder to see. And this makes any acknowledgement of a need for change harder to come by.
Another distinction between the process of reforming a school and the process of rescuing a restaurant is the general absence of a Gordon Ramsay-like figure or outside consultant to effect necessary changes. Schools that can afford them can hire consultants, but good consultants who understand Waldorf education from top to bottom and can offer appropriate guidance while retaining the trust of the institution are vanishingly few. Ramsay spends an intense week at a restaurant, often rewriting the menu himself. Reforming a school takes at least a year, and who besides the teachers can, or should, revise a curriculum?
Some readers may protest that the curriculum and methods are established and merely need to be implemented, but this is not so. Which 7th and 8th grade teachers read Fichte and Schiller with their students, as Steiner recommended? Why are some recommended practices—telling stories that the teacher makes up—virtually ignored while other practices that Steiner never mentioned—circle time—taken as gospel? For curriculum and methods to live, they need to be constantly evaluated and updated and altered to fit.
The standard against which these occur is not the external standard of a consultant, but the internal standard of the relationship of each teacher to Rudolf Steiner himself and to the students in the school. To stand between Steiner, as we may understand him through continual study, and a group of children with whom we live for a period of years is an awesome responsibility. Taking this responsibility seriously is the heart of a school. Working to honor it will grow or reform any Waldorf school.
—Understand each other’s jobs.
—Keep talking to one another.
—We’ve all got to pull on the fuckin’ rope.
—Fight for your reputation.
—Consistent quality is key to ensuring repeat business.
—You never, ever throw the towel in on service.
—No matter how good the food is, you’ve really got to understand every aspect of your business.
These are the words of Chef Gordon Ramsay on his BBC television show, “Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares,” which presents weekly case studies from which Waldorf schools could learn a lot.
In each episode, Ramsay spends a week with a failing restaurant. He diagnoses the blocks to success, works with owners, staff, and chef to reinvigorate the business, and returns a few weeks later to evaluate the results. These are usually remarkably good.
Ramsay is a famously foul-mouthed, pugnacious, potato-faced perfectionist. The show works because of his passion, energy, expertise, and honesty. It also works because, underneath his brutal exterior, Ramsay cares profoundly about both people and food.
The plot of each episode is the same. A restaurant has lost its direction, passion, pride, and energy. This is generally due to a lack of leadership, a lack of respect and trust among colleagues, a lack of communication, and a lack of clarity regarding roles. These lacks are felt but unaddressed among the human beings in the institution, but they are also apparent in the food, which is poorly cooked, and the menu, which is usually too long and too complex. These lacks are manifest even in the appearance of the kitchen, which is usually filthy, and the restaurant itself, which is usually in need of paint and redecoration. Owners, managers, and chefs hear and register the rare compliments, and don’t hear or rationalize away the more frequent criticisms, direct from customers or implicit in returned food and empty seats. They know they need to change—the business is failing—but are afraid of change, or don’t know what to change, or don’t know how to begin, or, in the most perplexing cases, don’t know when to give up on a failing ideology.
The parts reflect the whole, and Ramsay addresses each part in each episode. There is no top-down reform, from owner to chef to staff; there is also no grassroots activism—patrons simply don’t show up, voting with their pocketbooks and bellies. Ramsay’s reforms attack all aspects of the business simultaneously. Ramsay meets with owners, chefs, and staff, cajoling, threatening, teaching. He is part therapist, part consultant. As wealthy chef-owner of several famous restaurants, Ramsay knows the business and gives simple advice that works. Each episode shows him cooking, painting, observing, rolling up his sleeves wherever necessary to demonstrate change.
Ramsay’s principles can be distilled to these:
· The best measure of success is a restaurant full of satisfied customers.
· Achieve success by offering good food, well cooked and well served, at fair prices (Ramsay almost invariably simplifies the menu and lowers the prices).
· Function as a team.
Owner, chef, manager, and staff must understand and fulfill their roles without overstepping boundaries. Each must treat the others with understanding and respect. (Depending on the person and the restaurant, we see chefs who cannot control or communicate with assistant chefs, owners who cannot help meddling in the kitchen, nervous servers who vacillate between tables and kitchen, not communicating with either, and so on.)
· Respect the customers.
When he is successful in his reforms, which is most of the time, a couple of things stand out:
· The menu is simpler, the food fresher, and prices lower than they had been.
· Employees who appeared at the start to be hopeless, to be begging to be fired, save their jobs and fulfill their roles in the business. Clearly, it is easier to manage the function of someone who knows the business but is underperforming than it is to find someone better. While this may not be Ramsay’s personal view, his show demonstrates that competence is situational and learned. Teach an employee her role, define it clearly, support and respect her in it, and a formerly incompetent person appears almost magically competent.
Other lessons become clear as you watch Ramsay’s show:
· Institutional and cultural change are possible.
· Radical change can occur quickly.
· Simple changes can have large effects.
Time after time, uptight, inefficient, lethargic, unhappy, uncommunicative, incompetent employees in a dirty, ugly restaurant transform themselves into relaxed, efficient, energetic, happy, communicative, competent workers in a clean, attractive restaurant. This is the magic of the show.
The Waldorf Restaurant
The parallels between the restaurant business and Waldorf schools are so clear that they are not even analogies; they are two manifestations of the same phenomenon.
The “owner” is the Board of Trustees. The owner decides what sort of restaurant this is, provides the capital to start and maintain it, and hires the right manager and chef to ensure that it is as good as it can be. The owner should have enough confidence in his or her employees not to meddle in day-to-day affairs and the owner must be willing to invest in the success of the business. (Initially, roles among teachers, board, and parents may overlap; over time, a healthy institution will differentiate appropriate and clearly defined roles for each group.)
The teachers are the kitchen staff, each preparing and presenting his or her portion of the menu as well as possible. When every assistant and sous chef acts like a head chef, however, the dysfunction is immediate and profound. Too many cooks… well, it’s true. When roles are ill-defined, time and energy are wasted, communication suffers, and the menu loses coherence.
The menu is the curriculum, and, more than that, the education as a whole. When everyone understands it, the mission of the restaurant—to deliver this menu as well as possible—is clear.
The “front of the house,” such as the maitre ’d and servers, are the staff of the school, such as the administrator, business manager, admissions director, and development director. They represent the restaurant to the customers, presenting a line of communication (and defense) between the kitchen and the dining room. When they are out of the loop—when they aren’t included in an understanding of the menu and kitchen function, they simply can’t do their jobs.
The parents, as adult proxies for their children and as those who pay the bills, are the customers.
The Missing Chef
But where is the chef? Who created this menu? Who takes responsibility for it? The answer is telling. Rudolf Steiner is the chef, and he died in 1925. I believe this absence is among the greatest obstacles to the success of Waldorf schools. Waldorf schools are like a once-great restaurant that is trying valiantly to maintain its position despite the lack of the creative leadership that it once enjoyed.
How can Waldorf schools address this absence? There is no single right or appropriate model. Democratic or aristocratic, consensus decision-making or mandates, it doesn’t matter. Each school community must solve this conundrum for itself. There are many ways to do this well.
There are several ways to go wrong, too. Slavish adherence to a menu and cooking techniques from 1925 create an anachronism that may succeed as a tourist attraction (Waldorf schools as Colonial Williamsburg) but has lost its vitality. Lack of respect for the chef—lip service, unwillingness to understand and engage with his ideas—will also lead to a restaurant that may succeed for a time, but if it represents itself as a continuation of the old, venerated restaurant will soon be seen to be phony.
Waldorf schools today are not willing to look for a Director (although they could)—the position Steiner held in Stuttgart and the position offered by the Steiner School in New York City in the 1930s to Hermann von Baravalle (he refused). No more headmasters, I’ve been told, although why not is rarely explained. The difficult path forward, if we are not simply to hire someone as chef, however, is to form a committee or a system of committees to negotiate between the original menu and techniques of the master chef and the demands and changes of time and place and technique since then. We can call the committee an executive committee, a Council or College of teachers, it hardly matters.
Imagine, however, a restaurant run by a committee. That’s the challenge that faces Waldorf schools: replacing a chef, a leader in the kitchen, with a group that can work harmoniously to write a clear, coherent menu and deliver delicious, well-prepared, well-served food at a good price.
In a restaurant, if the chef is not performing, the owner can fire him or her. Waldorf teachers too often use ideological excuses to distance the Board from its watchdog role—you aren’t anthroposophists, so you don’t understand; Waldorf schools are supposed to be “faculty run” (they’re not; this is perhaps the most harmful myth regarding Waldorf schools in North America in the 20th century). Without board oversight, a Council or College is asked to hire, support, evaluate and possibly terminate colleagues. These roles contain clear conflicts of interest—mentoring and support should never overlap with evaluation and dismissal—and require equals to assume (temporarily) hierarchical roles that the institution, too often, doesn’t acknowledge. The Board legally empowers one person—a faculty chair, an administrator—or a group—a personnel committee—to serve in this role. If those charged with this responsibility are not doing their job, it is the Board’s right and responsibility to alter the situation. We harm our schools when we pretend this is not so.
Working for Health
Some guidelines for reform or a healthy existence, extensions of Ramsay’s principles, leap to mind:
· Clarify and put in writing roles and processes—job descriptions, committee mandates, governance structure, and decision-making processes. (When in doubt, decide how the institution as a whole will proceed and include all stakeholders in the decision. When in doubt, take a step back; there are few real emergencies.) I have seen too many Waldorf schools, for example, that are simply incapable of drawing a coherent diagram of their own governance structure. Take a simple hypothetical decision—whether or not to fire a particular teacher, for example—and try to determine the precise process, personnel, and communication steps involved in seeing this through. Where does the buck stop? Overlapping circles or diagrams with arrows that ultimately circle back on themselves demonstrate looming dysfunction.
· Empower Board, Administrator, and Council or College to monitor performance—all performance; teachers, staff, administration, and board.
· Support real, documented professional development, especially for new hires.
· Work for clarity of purpose with all employees of the institution. If the person who answers the phone doesn’t represent the school as a whole, the school is losing huge opportunities to advance itself.
· Observe, listen to, and respect the customers, the parents; include them appropriately (but not in decision-making, and don’t lead them to believe they’ll be included). Patrons can request a meal that’s not on the menu in a restaurant, but the restaurant as an institution has to decide whether or not it will provide one, and, if so, how and at what price. And when it communicates its decision, it should do so politely and firmly.
· Put children first.
Schools Are Not Restaurants
Clearly, the complexity, scope, and non-profit status of most Waldorf schools make the parallels between restaurants and schools diverge at some points. A school’s curriculum and methods are far more complex than the wildest menu, and the cost of one year of private education is greater than the most expensive dinner. Parents’ commitments to their children far exceed a restaurant patrons’ commitments to their appetites on any given evening. Also, schools are idealistic—worse, ideological. Also, as non-profit institutions, schools do not measure themselves according to profits and can long ignore the bottom line. A failing restaurant is easy to spot; a failing or dysfunctional school is harder to see. And this makes any acknowledgement of a need for change harder to come by.
Another distinction between the process of reforming a school and the process of rescuing a restaurant is the general absence of a Gordon Ramsay-like figure or outside consultant to effect necessary changes. Schools that can afford them can hire consultants, but good consultants who understand Waldorf education from top to bottom and can offer appropriate guidance while retaining the trust of the institution are vanishingly few. Ramsay spends an intense week at a restaurant, often rewriting the menu himself. Reforming a school takes at least a year, and who besides the teachers can, or should, revise a curriculum?
Some readers may protest that the curriculum and methods are established and merely need to be implemented, but this is not so. Which 7th and 8th grade teachers read Fichte and Schiller with their students, as Steiner recommended? Why are some recommended practices—telling stories that the teacher makes up—virtually ignored while other practices that Steiner never mentioned—circle time—taken as gospel? For curriculum and methods to live, they need to be constantly evaluated and updated and altered to fit.
The standard against which these occur is not the external standard of a consultant, but the internal standard of the relationship of each teacher to Rudolf Steiner himself and to the students in the school. To stand between Steiner, as we may understand him through continual study, and a group of children with whom we live for a period of years is an awesome responsibility. Taking this responsibility seriously is the heart of a school. Working to honor it will grow or reform any Waldorf school.
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