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cc flickr photo by Chewy Chua

I recently had the opportunity to attend a workshop on conflict resolution. The workshop was facilitated by a mediator and was designed to help administrators develop a framework for resolving conflict in a positive manner. When asked what I wanted to accomplish at the workshop, I said that I wanted to know how to manage conflict in an atmosphere of change. In my experience, conflict often arises either as a part of the change process, or as a powerful signal that change is needed. As schools adjust to the changing demands of a digital society, change (and conflict) is inevitable. What I really wanted to know was: when should educational leaders work to smooth over conflict as a part of the change process and when should they embrace conflict as a natural consequence of moving forward? When should educational leaders volley and when should they “smash the bird”?

I was never a particularly athletic kid. It’s not that I didn’t have the physical capability (though I did develop later than most) or a healthy competitive spirit - I just didn’t have the killer instinct that some of my friends had. I never got involved in sports in school and, as a result, never really had the opportunity to develop that side of myself. By the time I figured out that I might want to give it a try, I wasn’t able to get on teams populated by over-developed, hyper-competitive hockey-player types.

There was one sport, however, where I believed that I might have an opportunity to make the team. It was a sport that relied on finesse, strategy, and strong wits over brute strength. It was… of course… badminton. From gym classes and games with friends at the local rec. centre, I knew that I had potential – I could be a contender. So, when the day of tryouts arrived, I went to the gym carrying the burden of high personal expectations upon my shoulders.

I survived the first few rounds of the tryout well enough. I won some games – I lost some games. I had moments of brilliance, and many more of mediocrity. So, as the tryout neared its conclusion, I was surprised when the coach chose to pair me up in a singles match against one of the top athletes at the school. My mind reeled as the possibility of actually making the team loomed in front of me. Certainly the coach was putting me to the test to see if I could cut the mustard against such a formidable opponent! What would happen if I won? I would be a hero!

The match began. My opponent and I tested each other early. My strategic play caught him off guard. On several occasions, I sent him scrambling to the back of the court only to gently drop the birdie in the front corner on the return. A hush fell over the crowd. Was it possible that this band geek could dethrone the sports king even just for one match? The thought was appetizing. I became arrogant - could my nimble mind overcome his nimble feet? I was beginning to think so.

As these thoughts began to flood my mind, they stole my focus. I began to play only defense. I volleyed the bird beautifully, but had lost the confidence to smash it. My opponent was quick – very quick. He now anticipated my drop shots and was able to get to them on time. The students who were watching began to yell, “Smash it!” I just could not for the life of me make it happen. As I left the gym, defeated by my opponent and without a place on the team, I kept thinking to myself, “I could have won – I just needed to smash the bird!”

Why have I chosen to divulge this rather awkward teenage moment to you, the reader? Because, lately I have been thinking about when we as educational leaders need to volley, and when we need to smash the bird. In my school life, I spend most of my days volleying; balancing multiple priorities, problem-solving, and working to resolve conflict. But when is it necessary to smash the bird? When should administrators embrace their killer instinct and deliver that perfectly-aimed smash? The short answer to the question is: when it is in the best interest of their students and student learning.

I recently finished reading Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs. Without question Steve Jobs was a genius, transforming the very way we live our lives through technology. Steve Jobs could also be (to use Isaacson’s words) “brutal.” He had extremely high expectations and demanded – sometimes to his own detriment – nothing but perfection. He brought art to technology and technology to art. He inspired, cajoled, and commanded the very best out of the people around him. Jobs’ expectations were impossibly high, but the rewards of achieving them were even higher. He was never one to hold back from smashing the bird.

It has been said to the point of cliché that we are in a time of tremendous change and education is certainly not immune. The pace of change in schools can be slow, and understandably so. Schools are complex systems operating within the context of even larger and more complex systems at the district and provincial level. However, this is not an excuse for apathy. There is urgency to educational change that demands that we push forward in the name of student learning. For the sake of our students, we cannot accept an unwillingness to change from those around us. This is not the time to drag our feet. We need to set the bar high and expect (not just hope for) classrooms that engage students, allow them to construct knowledge through asking and solving authentic questions, and allow students to work in and manipulate the medium of our times – digital technology. To expect less is to sell our students short.

I am not proposing that educational leaders can (or should) operate schools in the way that Steve Jobs operated in business. What I took away from his biography, however, is that we can and should have the highest expectations for what is possible, both from ourselves and from those around us. We need to keep our gaze on what our students will need in the future, not just what they need to get through to the next grade. It’s not about us (and our own trepidation) - it’s about them. We must not lower our standards in order to smooth the path to change. Conflict is a natural result of the change process and can be a productive tool in improving our schools and our selves.

We in education have an unprecedented opportunity at this moment to transform our schools to benefit our students. I for one don’t want to walk away from this moment in the history of education wishing that I had taken the opportunity to smash the bird.