I watched a video on Facebook yesterday about The Mengele Twins – a woman who was kept with her twin sister as a science experiment during the Holocaust. Her family was killed and she and her sister were tortured and injected with unknown substances that made them very sick. At the end of the interview, she spoke about how she met with two of the doctors that did this and forgave them for what they did. She said, “But what is my forgiveness? I like it. It is an act of self-healing, self-liberation, self-empowerment…I want everyone to remember that we can not change what happened. That is the tragic part. But we can change how we react to it.”
I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on the concept of forgiveness since revisiting and sharing my story in The Fire Within, and it’s taken me a long time to even write this post. There are some commonalities between the stories within the book. In every story, there is resilience, determination, reflection, growth, and forgiveness. In every story, the choice that people made in how to react to their adversity involved forgiving the people who caused the hurt. One of my most important life lessons has been:
The story I share in the book that led me to this conclusion was very personal, but there are professional connotations. The Mengele Twins story from the video was heartbreaking and tragic beyond words. The stories in The Fire Within are adversities that can be difficult to read. But there are many times beyond major adversities that we need employ forgiveness. Many times I have needed to forgive someone in my professional life that may not have been ready or willing to say they were sorry. They may not have understood the damage they caused. They may not have had the tools to understand what they did. They may not, from their perspective, believe they were wrong.
I’ve been the victim of workplace bullying. I’ve been told that I’m not boots on the ground because I’m an administrator. I’ve been told that my ideas are too way out there to be real. I’ve been made to feel inferior and stupid and wrong. Sometimes, it’s been as simple as an idea I’ve been really excited about that was shot down. Sometimes, it’s been about sitting in a meeting and contributing to the conversation, only to have everything I say ignored. It doesn’t need to be a major adversity that makes me feel hurt. It can be all the small hurts along the way that add up.
And I know what people say. It’s easy to believe that people who do things wrong don’t deserve to be forgiven when you’re angry and hurt. But here’s the part of forgiveness that I figured out a long time ago: true forgiveness isn’t about those people. Forgiveness is allowing yourself to accept the things you cannot change and find the peace you need to let go of the anger. Forgiveness is actually about you and valuing your own happiness and peace over anger and sadness. It allows you to build your self-worth and confidence because there is more power in controlling your ability to forgive than allowing someone else to make you angry.
There are also a few things that I think forgiveness is not:
- It does not mean you’re weak. To forgive someone who has hurt you actually takes a massive amount of strength to let go of the anger.
- It does not excuse the people for their behavior.
- It does not mean you forget what happened.
- It does not mean you put yourself in the situation of allowing it to happen again.
It’s also important to allow forgiveness for yourself. We all make mistakes and we all have things we struggle with. So many times we feel guilty because we can’t balance, for example. A smart friend of mine told me lately that balance does not mean 50/50, yet I know that as I’m typing this post I’m feeling guilty for not speaking to my daughter sitting next to me, and when I put my work away and chat with her, I’m going to feel guilty about the work I didn’t get done during that time. But, forgiving my inability to effectively balance allows me to let go of the guilt that I constantly feel.
Developing the ability to recognize when forgiveness is necessary and what I need to reflect on to make it happen has made me a less angry person and letting go of that allows me to focus on the things that make me happy in my job and keep the negativity from dragging me down. I really do feel like adversities that hurt us are one of the reasons why teachers disengage from the profession. Forgiveness and letting go of the anger can be one of our best defenses and a way to keep us happy and engaged in our jobs and doing the best for the little people we serve.
One of the topics that I speak about in my keynotes most often is teacher engagement. I feel that the level of engagement and efficacy we feel in our profession directly correlates to how happy we are in our jobs and subsequently the passion we exhibit when we teach. I’ve spoken about it in the posts The Rules of Teacher Engagement and Why Do Teachers Disengage. I’ve discussed my meaning of teacher engagement as actually being how engaged teachers are in their professions (versus just their professional learning). How much they love teaching. How well they still remember the reason why they’re doing it.
Because I have disengaged from the profession before, I feel like I can talk about it with some degree of expertise, even if that expertise is only because I experienced it and beat it. So I often watch for signs or symptoms of teachers being disengaged because I do feel as part of my job it is my responsibility to help teachers either stay engaged or remember they’re why. And there’s a continuum of disengagement. You are not either engaged or disengaged. It reminds me a bit of the process by which people grieve. Even though grief a similar process and certain stages can be predicted, the actual course it takes can be different for everybody.
I think people assume that you are either happy or not happy in your job. And if you look at a continuum, many people may place happy and then sad or angry at the opposite ends of the spectrum. Even if you want to say you love your job, some may place hate at the opposite end. But I don’t believe either of these to be true. I think that the opposite of happy or love is instead, apathy. When you are sad or angry it means that you are still passionate and you care. I believe this to be true about many things, not just the engagement you feel in teaching. I feel like it’s true about life in general. When you feel numb towards something and the care is gone, you have truly, completely lost your why. And if you’re speaking in regards to emotion toward teaching, I’d most love to be happy, but my second choice would be to be angry because I would know that I still feel passionate enough to fight for what I believe. Apathy on the other hand…I’ve felt that. It’s a hopeless, lost feeling. And if you feel like nothing you do matters, where would you even get the energy to try?
I’ve given many suggestions on how to re-energize yourself into teaching in the other blog posts, but I feel like the most important is awareness of the issue. Knowing it can happen to anyone. I would have put myself up against the most passionate educator when I began teaching. I loved it. I knew about burnout and disengaging. I didn’t believe it could happen to me.
If you reach the point of apathy I don’t think all is lost. I definitely do not think that if you reach this point you need to necessarily leave the profession. Reigniting the flame for learning and loving what you do may just take a little bit more time. I really do actually think being open and talking to somebody about it can help. Blogging, finding a passion, or taking up a new interest and education are a few things that can bring a teacher back into loving what they do. Doing mental body scans, paying attention to your physical and emotional well-being to catch it early, and using self-care are all important steps as well. Blaming others and being angry will not help. Give yourself and the profession a clean slate. The reconnection is not immediate, but the same resilience and grit we ask our kids to employ every day will help get you there. It took me about eight months to figure out why I had gotten into education again after I figured out I wanted to leave. But the time and the effort it took was so worth it.
I am on Twitter because my friends are there. The ones who push my thinking and who I want to see what they are doing professionally because they make me a better person. I wholeheartedly agree with Aaron Hogan‘s famous quote, “Twitter won’t change your life, but the educators you meet there will.”
There are times, though, when I feel like Twitter is like being back in the school playground at recess. Realistically, most of us have the desire to get along with everyone, but there will always be people we gravitate toward because of similar interests, opinions, etc, but there are other groups of people who have similar beliefs who stick together, and hypothetically, (especially) because we work in a human-focused profession, we should be able to disagree respectfully and remain kind. Lately, I feel like the difference between pushing someone’s thinking and arguing in an unprofessional fashion have been separated by a very fine line. And I, honestly, don’t think that challenging thinking and rudeness should have a fine line. I think it should be very, very thick, in fact.
When someone challenges my thinking, I feel like I’ve had an ah-ha moment. I have found some way that I know I can change my own practice for the better. It leaves me feeling invigorated and ready to move forward. They have probably acknowledged what I’m doing right and have pointed out an area where I could grow with HOW I could change. Maybe they have kindly suggested a resource or person who might help me. I have probably asked more questions for clarification. Overall, it’s a good experience on both sides. This kind of push is why I get on social media. I am a better professional now than I was prior to Twitter.
What I don’t understand is when the need is so high to be right that the basics of human kindness are completely forgotten. In any argument, there is always an element of truth on both sides, even if that truth is the perception of being right. And as I’ve said before, in many instances, it is not our job to tell someone they are wrong, but instead to shift their perception. We will never shift perception with words that make people’s walls go up. The second they feel angry, resentful, backed into a corner, or like others are being unkind, they stop listening. So, if just being kind isn’t a good enough reason to push someone’s thinking versus being rude, the logical, reasonable expectation that you will not accomplish changing someone’s mind with unkind words should be. Because if you’re not trying to shift their perception, what are you trying to accomplish?
The older I’ve gotten, the more I understand that being kind is more important than being right. I’m not going to lie, sometimes, that means I need to check my temper, bite my tongue, and take a break from a conversation because I really, really like to be right. Sometimes, I forget and need to apologize and try harder because I’m human. But, being right should never be more important than a relationship. And if I find I’m not being heard, then I need to either accept that it might not be the right time to change that person’s perception or that I’m not doing a good enough job at being persuasive. After all, we are modeling these behaviors for kids, and we shouldn’t expect any better behavior out of them than we exhibit ourselves.
I believe that it is human nature to want to trust people, but it’s definitely a feeling that when broken, takes a great deal of time to mend. It’s imperative that we have trust in the people around us for support, kindness, empathy, and collaboration. Many times we associate the breaking of trust with something someone does to us. Their words or actions cause us to feel betrayed. For example, when your principal says they support risk-taking, but then chastise you for a failed lesson attempt. It’s like an action causes a reaction, and that reaction is distrust.
I also believe, however, that distrust can also be earned by not doing. The lack of action can cause just as much of a wave in a relationship (personal or professional) as an action.
When we don’t do what we say we are going to do
If you’ve ever uttered the phrase “I’ll believe it when I see it” about someone, you’ve lost trust in that person to finish what they say they will do. A repeated lack of follow through, even if it’s not in the same area of assistance can cause trust to dwindle with every occurrence. The lack of action can be anything from not finishing assigned collaborations to not being available for support when needed. It can even be in the perception of someone not doing their job when their lack of assistance or attention affects the way that you do your job.
When we don’t anticipate needs
We obviously cannot anticipate everyone’s needs all the time, but I do believe that in this area people will award points for effort when they feel that the majority of the time people are being proactive versus reactive. Reactiveness causes anxiety and stress for many people and can cause a person to wonder why the situation couldn’t be seen coming (of course, depending on the situation). In terms of trust, if I feel you rely more on reactiveness than proactiveness, I may feel like I need to be more on point in order to catch situations for someone versus with someone because I don’t trust you to anticipate needs.
When we say nothing (or focus on the wrong feeling)
I recently saw a quote that said, “Sometimes the most powerful thing you can say is nothing at all.” In regards to trust, I think of this saying more in the way of referencing when we need support. If I am asking for support and I’m not getting it, I will probably lose trust in that you will ever support me. Support also includes, however, the ability to have challenging conversations with people who need to improve their practice, so not only the positive feel-good support but holding people accountable as well. In focusing on the wrong feeling causing distrust, I worked in a school once where the principal refused to focus any energy on the issues that were plaguing the climate & culture of the building. Instead, she would point out only the good things that were happening but ignored the lack of positive relationships or accountability for everyone in the building which caused a major distrust of her.
Your choice in words and actions can convey a powerful message but your lack of them can as well. Remembering that not only our actions but our lack thereof can cause a lack of trust needs to be kept in mind when being purposeful in our leadership and communication with the people around us. Trust can be broken in an instant and takes patience, diligence, and dependability in order to rebuild.
I was sitting in the car on my way to a doctor’s appointment this morning desperate, mentally willing my blood pressure to lower. I had a deep feeling of dread in my stomach. The moment that I knew was coming for the last few months had finally happened. Right before I left for the doctor’s appointment, I had found out I dropped a ball.
It wasn’t a large ball by any stretch, a medium one maybe, but the first major one I had dropped since being in my new role. I guess going into my third year, that’s not too bad, but I needed to get bailed out by my network administrator…while he was on vacation. And while I get along smashingly well with my network admin, his last words to me before he signed off were, “Try not to break anything.” Yea. It was a seriously stupid move on my part. He was very, very patient with me, which is a true testament to the amazing, working relationship that we have formed over the last couple years because believe me when I say, at that point he could have easily made me cry.
There has been a perfect storm brewing around me lately. I’ve been feeling it for months and have even spoken to my close group of friends about it. I have been saying yes too much, and I have had more and more balls in the air lately. As a result, I’ve been doing stuff halfway, and I know halfway is probably a compliment to my work. I was working hard. Always working. Continue to say yes. Put in more work. I do a fantastic job at preaching balance and a terrible job at finding it.
And the minute I try to find balance one of the balls drop because I feel like if I don’t keep working, something won’t get done. And I’m right, it won’t. What I’m trying to determine is how much it matters if it doesn’t.
Why was I going to the doctor? Stress. Oh, the irony.
I struggle with finding balance. I try to be everything to everyone. And I do really believe in balance, truly. It’s just that I wish better things for everyone else than I do myself. That’s a problem and I know it.
But one of the issues that I full on caused myself (besides consistently saying yes) was that I took this new role and was trying to push too much change. It annoys me how slow education moves and the benefit of working in a small district is how quickly the ship can be righted. However, I have been pushing my department too far too quickly. We have revamped the way we hand out devices to elementary and middle school, we reworked the Parent & Student Handbook, implemented a new way to follow our department strategic plan (along with writing one to begin with), implemented a completely new inventory system, I updated job descriptions and implemented a new system of evaluation, we went single sign-on as much as we could, refigured devices and pulled back on purchasing, pulled all old devices, implemented a device refresh, redid our district website (coming soon)…I could go on and on, and this has all been in two years. Even though I believe that our department, overall, has a positive climate, I have stressed out one of my members to the point of tears. Basically, in my quest to get logistics changed and procedures in line so I could really get to the heart of student learning, I have lead my team down a path where we were going 1000 miles per minute. I’m impressed they still allow me to lead them.
I do this to myself sometimes. Like that feeling from when you were a kid and you tried rolling down a hill and you can’t stop. The one light in the whole situation was that I found how quickly my team could rally to turn the tides on a mistake. And when I had to email my programmer, also on vacation, to do something for me asap to right the wrong, I apologized profusely for bothering her on vacation. Her response was, “You’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I can do.” I get that we all make mistakes, but my biggest error lately is not only working myself to death but dragging others along with me. Some changes aren’t immediate, and being cognizant of the way your actions affect the people around you is so much more important than a new inventory system or website. We have developed the culture in our department that when we make a mistake, we say we are sorry and we try again the next day with a clean slate. I guess I’ll be taking advantage of this belief system this time. There’s nothing that will stop you faster from rolling down the hill than hitting a tree. It hurts and you feel embarrassed, but you get up and dust yourself off and keep moving forward.
A few months ago, I wrote a piece called The Rules of Teacher Engagement which discussed teacher engagement and what it means when teachers become disconnected from their profession like I did some years ago, and how I took control and turned it around. Educator disengagement is stronger than just not being interested in what your learning or teaching at the time. It’s the complete disconnection to the why behind teaching. It gives people’s minds the opportunity and permission to do things like incessantly complain about students’ laziness, roll their eyes at the teachers who are excited and still engaged, and either do anything they can to work against the administration or just do nothing exciting to fly under the radar. And sometimes the teachers who are the most disengaged expect the highest level of engagement out of their disengaged students, even though they don’t feel that connection themselves.
This came to my attention a few years ago when I disengaged. It was a terrible feeling. I hated my job, looked forward to the end of the day or end of the week, took only what I had home and rarely found interest in anything education-based. I like to tell myself that my students didn’t notice because, for me, it wasn’t the students but the politics of education that disengaged me, but that’s probably not true. They probably knew. And even though I had the sweetest, most hard-working class I had ever had my last year I was in the classroom, I couldn’t pull myself back into the groove to even really appreciate it. It’s seriously one of my biggest professional regrets. Because when the students don’t feel like we care even when they’re struggling (especially when they’re struggling) we have truly failed as educators.
I feel like many of us can think about someone who fits this description. And, like with everything, there’s a continuum of feeling this way. On one side, there is the completely engaged educator, and I feel like I am almost there today (some of the tactics I employed to get there can be found in The Rules of Teacher Engagement). So, the first question is: how do people get this way? I think there are a few possibilities to what brings this on, but part of the difficulty of “solving” the issue is that it’s so deeply personal to whoever is experiencing it. That’s why the best prevention is self-awareness and knowing if you’re beginning to fall into the trap.
Sometimes, I think what emotionally removes people from education has nothing to do with education at all. It is a personal trauma or adversity that needs a person’s full attention, and it is either so deep or takes so long that people don’t know how to get back into the education groove and find that happy place again.
One of the biggest takeaways I had from Rick Jetter and Rebecca Coda‘s book Escaping the School Leader’s Dunk Tank was that when we suffer adversity in the workplace, it emotionally hurts us. We become a little more disheartened with every time it happens. Sometimes, it’s simply about having more put on our plates than any one person can be expected to do. It could also be workplace bullying (which can come in the form of colleagues, parents, administration), an administrator or colleagues who are against risk-taking, or policies that are compliance-based and stifle creativity and innovation. Even a lack of trust for the people around you can cause hurt. And depending on their level of resilience, everyone will have a maximum that when they reach it, they may give up. Even the most resilient people have a breaking point, and reaching that point may cause them to become disengaged.
Sometimes, we overuse the term burnout. We say things like, “I’m so burnt out after the tough week.” But, professional burnout is absolutely a real thing, and one of the feelings that true burnout can lead to is detachment. In 2016, Psychology Today posted the article The Teacher Burnout Epidemic (Parts 1 and 2) on teacher burnout which included data that said:
About half a million (15% of) U.S. teachers leave the profession every year (Seidel, 2014).
More than 41% of teachers leave the profession within five years of starting, and teacher attrition has risen significantly over the last two decades (Ingersoll, Merrill, and Stuckey, 2014). This provides clarification to Ingersoll’s (2012) oft-cited estimate that 40%-50% of new teachers leave within their first five years on the job.
TNTP (formerly The New Teacher Project) reported almost 66% of the nation’s best teachers continue to leave the profession for careers elsewhere (Chartock & Wiener, 2014).
It is clear our teachers are struggling, but we should refrain from placing the blame on them. Rather, consider the demands and unsustainability of the job.
…teachers are less likely to be able to deliver high quality instruction when they are not able to decompress (Neufeldnov, 2014). Stressed, overworked, frustrated teachers are less able to connect in positive ways with students and to offer students the best instruction. (Rankin, 2016)
Some of the symptoms of burnout include:
- Consistently being emotionally and physically exhausted accompanied with dread of what might happen the next day
- Impaired concentration that can get worse the longer it continues
- Weakened immune system (ie you get sick easier)
- Other mental health issues like anxiety or depression
- In the beginning, constant irritability and later, angry outbursts
Many of the symptoms of burnout can affect both a person’s personal and professional life. I thought one of the most interesting ways to handle burnout was found in this article by Mayo Clinic. Among other suggestions to handle burnout like seeking support and identifying stressors, it said:
Adjust your attitude. If you’ve become cynical at work, consider ways to improve your outlook. Rediscover enjoyable aspects of your work. Recognize co-workers for valuable contributions or a job well-done. Take short breaks throughout the day. Spend time away from work doing things you enjoy.
Burnout or not, something I think we could all remember this.
Secondary Traumatic Stress
Secondary traumatic stress (STS) (also known as compassion fatigue or vicarious trauma), as discussed in my book The Fire Within, is when people who hear of other’s trauma and who work with others who have experienced a trauma and exhibit trauma behaviors begin to develop the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) even if they have never suffered a trauma themselves. I included this chart in my book from the US Department of Human Services as the symptoms to look for:
Increased heart rate
STS and burnout have both similar symptoms and ways to handle them. For both, it’s important to recognize when you need professional help.
Regardless of the reason for disengagement, the most important step to take is developing self-awareness and being mindful of how you feel in order to catch it in the early stages. I want people to understand that these feelings are real, and they are not weird or terrible teachers for having them, but there is an underlying cause to their disengagement. Many times I find that educators who are disengaged aren’t necessarily truly happy people, at least not in their profession. And I do believe that it is so much more rewarding to love your job and what you do, and in turn, the students you teach and love will be better people for it, and that’s really why we got into education in the first place.
The world is finally beginning to wake up to the issues of mental illness and the far-reaching effects that it has on everyone’s life. Nobody is immune. It doesn’t matter how much money you have, how “social” you appear to be, or how many times you smile. There are people out there who cannot control their thoughts and that’s not due to a personality flaw or a mental weakness. Mental illness is an illness. For some, it is one that never goes away. For many of us, it is something that we live with and find strategies to deal with in order to keep ourselves functioning, and in many cases, alive on a daily basis. We would change it if we could.
For people who don’t experience these things, please understand: it is not your job to judge if we “should” be feeling this way. We know we shouldn’t. That’s not a question. What we really want is your support and understanding. We want to be like you without these feelings. Show us your compassion and empathetic sides. We just want to know we are not alone and you don’t think we are weird. We want to know that when we get enough courage to tell you about our sickness that you don’t look at us with pity or distain but instead with an understanding and strategic side that will help us make it through our bouts.
I’ve written about this many times, trying so hard to destigmatize mental illness and to forget the look on the face of the one person who didn’t understand what I was going through; the catalyst for this mission. That face is ingrained in my head. When I saw this tweet from Emily Thomas
Can we start a MeToo campaign, but for mental health ? I would love to hear everyone’s untold stories so we can all support each other ❤️
— Emily Thomas (@emitoms) June 8, 2018
regarding beginning a #metoo campaign for mental health, I knew I was all in. I had been racking my brain to try to find another way to shed light on the topic but didn’t know how. It was a lightbulb moment, and I’m all in.
#ItsTime is going to be used for stories of how mental illness has affected lives: maybe it’s yours, maybe it was a family member, maybe your best friend, maybe your student or teacher; everyone has been affected. It’s to show support and offer true compassion and empathy should anyone need to talk. It’s taking it one step further from just posting the National Suicide Hotline number or offering condolences after the fact.
#ItsTime to remove the stigma.
#ItsTime to recognize the far-reaching effects mental illness has on people.
#ItsTime to do something more than nothing.
The more we talk about it, the less of a stigma it will have, and less of a control that it will have on all our lives. I don’t want myself or the people I love to feel like they need to keep it all inside because they are well respected in the community/profession and they don’t want to show that as a weakness. #ItsTime to take control and stop allowing these illnesses to control us.
I know that my blog is primarily education focused, and it will continue to be that way. I love the work I do, but I also am 100% positive that we are not immune to these issues. I will continue posting about issues in education once a week, as is my goal. However, I will also try to post a second time during the week regarding anything I’ve learned about mental illness from writing my book or just being me and living with it. But in the meantime, let’s get this going. #ItsTime.
I truly believe that part of being an advocate for kids is believing that all of them, no matter what, possess redeeming qualities. I know that I see kids do absolutely amazing things with talent and grit and an awareness of other people that I don’t remember myself or my classmates having when I was their age. On the flip side, I know we have students who are so angry and struggling and do things that are unkind and frankly, sometimes violent. But, instead of asking why the students are so poorly behaved, I think the better question is what support did we miss as parents/educators/society and how can we bring out the goodness? My point being…no matter the child, if we don’t believe that there is a place inside of them that has the potential for greatness then that is more about our shortcomings than it is about them.
I often hear adults speaking about kids like they are some lost group of souls; that they make bad choices, they have terrible attitudes, they’re impolite and spend all their time doing inappropriate things on social media. While there are many lines of thinking where I am very open to listening to the other side of the coin, believing that kids these days are inherently bad is just not one of them. If that’s truly what I believed, I clearly don’t belong in education. What I believe people sometimes miss is that kids live in a world that adults created for them and are just trying to survive the reality we concocted.
For every time that I have seen a child not say thank you, I have held the door for an adult who has given me about the same attention as a doorstop.
For every child I have seen bully someone on social media, I have seen an adult get personal and nasty over political posts on Facebook or Twitter.
For every student I have seen lash out physically at another person, I have seen an adult grab their child too roughly in a grocery store or watched brutal shows on TV.
For every inappropriate song that I’ve heard a student listening to, I have been listening to my own 80’s playlist with Pour Some Sugar On Me and She Shook Me All Night Long.
Do students make poor choices? Absolutely. As do adults, and we are supposed to be the models. But deviant or socially unacceptable behavior does not equal worthlessness. What we believe for students could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. And I would so much rather believe that our students have greatness in them and take the chance that that’s the prophecy that comes true than believe that they are inherently awful and perpetuate that thought into the universe. Students learning differently, speaking differently, listening and communicating differently, does not mean that the way they do it is wrong. If I have to be the one person that believes in a student when it seems hopeless I will be that person because that’s why I got into education and that’s what teachers do. If you ask me about kids these days, I will tell you about all the kids I know that are already better people than I ever was at their age.
So many times in education I think we gravitate toward one idea or teaching strategy and hold onto it like it’s the only way to do things, but I think there is always a balance between change and tradition. Change for the sake of change is just as dangerous as never having the desire to move forward because it causes people to become immune to the prospect of growth and the excitement of moving forward, and sometimes become disillusioned with the inherent uncertainty of constant change. However, whenever I’m in a new situation, whether it’s working with a district or in my own, and I ask why a process is being done (particularly if it doesn’t seem to be working or is inefficient), I never feel like “Because we’ve always done it that way” is a legitimate answer to why it’s being done. After all, there are many things we have spent years doing that we know don’t work: generally ignoring some of the social-emotional needs of students and staff, complete seclusion, treating the learning needs of all kids as being the same…there are consequences for never reviewing a process or practice to look for ways to improve. The use of “We have always done it that way” can feel like a blanket reason not to look for room for improvement.
Because I value balance, I understand that reviewing a process, policy or even a teaching strategy does not always mean that it’s going to change. If the reasons for keeping them the way they are is solid and understandable and the outcomes are always positive, there may not be a reason for a change but that doesn’t mean that reviewing that process or policy wasn’t valuable. But, if the dominant reason for maintaining the status quo is that it’s always been done that way, to me that’s a red flag that it’s time for a review and possibly some tweaks or change so we truly understand the why behind why we are doing things the way we are.