Abstract
This case describes Maple Hills Elementary, a K-8 school in a rural farming community of the Midwest. As a community, Maple Hills has historically experienced a narrow range of diversity across race, ethnicity, language, and religion. Residents have predominantly been White, with German and English heritage, speak English as a mother tongue, and identify as Protestant Christian. In the last decade, Maple Hills has experienced an influx of immigrants from several nations leading to a confluence of issues in Maple Hills Elementary involving culture, language, and special education. In this case, one immigrant mother begins asking hard questions that force the teachers and principals to begin to question their assumptions and practices regarding how student support services are delivered.
Case Narrative
Helen Schuster looked up from raking the afternoon leaves when she heard the school bus. As the bus pulled away and her two children start up the long country driveway, Helen sighed, reflecting on what a tiring autumn it had been. Looking down at the dry leaves, she felt a bit withered herself. Working part-time in Maple Hills Elementary School (MHES) as a classroom educational assistant, the fall has been rough. As her children began jumping in leaves, Helen could not help but contrast their playful feelings with the anxieties that roiled in her. Tonight were parent teacher conferences, and Helen was dreading them. But her trepidation had nothing to do with her own kids.
Maple Hills
To understand Helen’s story, some context is needed. A rural farming community in the Midwest, Maple Hills and neighboring communities are knit tightly. Most residents—the Schusters being no exception—identify as White, native English speaking, working or middle class, and Protestant Christian. Like many of their neighbors, Schuster roots run deep. Relatives have lived in the area for generations.
While homogeneous in many ways, scratch beneath the surface and some dimensions of diversity emerge. For instance, although rates of poverty are lower than state averages and certainly than other rural and urban pockets, nearly two in five students still qualify for free or reduced price lunch. Economic shifts in agriculture have led to the decline of traditional small-scale farms in the last decades, most being consolidated into mammoth, corporate-run factory farms.
Racially and ethnically, Maple Hills had been predominantly White for the last 125 years. Native American people, including Sioux, lived in this region before being pushed onto a reservation in the late 19th Century. Ever since, the region has predominantly been settled by European immigrants—primarily German. In the last couple decades, two immigration patterns have begun to broaden this complexion again. First, starting in the 1990s, immigrants from Mexico and the Dominican Republic began steadily moving to the area. Primarily drawn to farm work and construction, the parents in these families have typically had little formal schooling. They tend to work long hours for meager pay. Many live in a small mobile home park on the outskirts of town. Then, 5 years ago, a large regional medical center was built just south of Maple Hills, spurring a second wave of immigration to the region. This time the newcomers tended to be physicians and other professional personnel. Coming from a variety of countries (many were Middle Eastern or Indian), parents in these families often had quite high levels of formal schooling and worked in middle and upper-middle class jobs.
MHES
Not until Helen began working at MHES did she pay much attention to these immigration patterns. Three years ago, she took on a position providing literacy support to students with learning disabilities. Helen spent four mornings a week helping third and fourth grade students, particularly those struggling with reading. She found working with individual students and small groups to be a challenge, but rewarding. Recently, she even began tossing around the idea of returning to school to pursue a master’s degree in literacy.
It was here in the classrooms of MHES that Helen first noticed how much more diverse Maple Hills had grown—racially, ethnically, linguistically, and culturally—compared with what she recalled from her own childhood. Thinking back, she could recall only one student of color in her own class—a boy who was born in Korea and adopted by a local couple. Now it seemed like one in five kids on the playground—maybe more in the younger grades—defied the cookie-cutter mold of the prototypical Maple Hills student: Anglo, native English speaking, Protestant. It was not uncommon to hear Spanish—and occasionally other languages as well—in the hallways. This surprised her, because her own children, Arne and Adele, seemed to only have White friends. Certainly, she did not see this level of diversity in the pews of St. Luke Protestant Church each Sunday.
It also was striking to Helen that she found herself working with many of these students. More than half the students who were referred to her as needing reading support were students of color—nearly all Latino. Helen was comfortable with this. She enjoyed using some of her Spanish—which she remembered slogging through in high school and college—in conversing with students and, on rare occasion, their parents. More than comfortable, she felt proud to support these students develop their literacy skills. An avid reader herself, Helen took satisfaction in knowing that she was playing a role in opening up this new world to students.
Educationally, MHES and the six other public schools in the district have a strong reputation. In urban areas—the closest one a 45-min drive away—families have several schooling options, including several well-established private religious schools and a couple newly formed charter schools. By contrast, in Maple Hills, traditional public schools are the only game in town. Helen does not think folk see this as limiting, however, as all are widely regarded as excellent. If anything, parents—or at least the many White parents who are established in the area—seem to feel entitled. Each year at the district-wide professional development meeting, a running joke circulates among teachers to prepare for the inevitable encounters with moms and dads who are under the delusion that they live in Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon, expecting all the children (especially their own) to be above average.
With an enrollment of just more than 300 students in pre-K to fifth grade, MHES enjoys a stable teaching force and administration. Rob Unkster, the principal, is currently in his third year at the helm. He grew up in Maple Hills and returned to the region after serving as a teacher for 15 years in urban and suburban schools downstate, where he had attended college and earned his principal license. Coming back to his hometown felt like a dream come true, both personally and professionally. While he enjoyed his time away, his family traced their German-American ancestry back five generations in this community, and Rob felt like he was finally back where he belonged.
A Turbulent Fall at MHES
The seeds of trouble were sown innocently, during the beginning of the school year. One morning in mid-September as Helen was working with a group of three students on vocabulary identification at a corner table and the rest of the fourth grade class was working on a read-aloud, Rob popped into the classroom for a brief walk through. He tried to get out of the office and make appearances throughout the school for at least a couple hours each day, “Managing by walking around,” as he liked to say. He was pleased to see what appeared to be a focused small group working in the back of the room with Helen, but disturbed by several boys in the larger group who seemed to be tuned out and day dreaming. “These lads aren’t starting the year on the right foot if this is how they behave in class,” he thought to himself.
Just before lunch, Rob stopped back to touch base with Helen and Meghan, the classroom teacher. “How’s the year starting, ladies?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t know Rob. I feel exhausted already and the year’s barely begun!” Meghan sighed. “Perhaps I’m just getting old.”
Helen chimed in, “I don’t know if you noticed, Rob, but it seems like several of these new students are struggling. Many of them don’t speak much English at home, I bet.”
As they conversed, Rob noticed that Helen and Megan were most concerned about three boys in her class—the same three that caught Rob’s attention earlier—who were all new to the school. Two were Latino, and one was from India. “Helen and I were just discussing them. She offered to include them in her small group work, as an early intervention,” Meghan told Rob. “What do you think?”
“Sounds like it might be a good plan,” Rob agreed. “Let me know how it goes!” He left the room feeling pleased to be working with such an agreeable, flexible staff. “This kind of nimble innovation would get bogged down in bureaucracy back in the city,” he thought ruefully as he left the room.
October
Three weeks later, Helen was again working in the corner table, this time with six students, the three boys having joined her group. Everything seemed to be going well, but she suddenly was swept over by an uncanny feeling that someone was watching her. Looking up she saw a woman that she did not recognize standing in the front of the room, staring at Helen’s table, scowling. Helen turned her attention back to her group, but felt a little odd.
Ten min later, class was ending. Meghan was directing all the students to clean up their belongings and prepare to head out on a walking field trip to a local park. As Helen gathered her teaching materials at the back table, she found herself confronted by the same woman who had been watching her. “Why is Aryan sitting back here?” the stranger demanded.
“Oh, hello!” Helen said, taken aback. “My name is Helen. I am an educational assistant in this room. I help students with reading. Aryan is a very kind boy. Are you his mother?”
“Yes, I am Mia Balay,” the woman replied. “Aryan is my eldest, and we moved here to Maple Hills from India this summer. He is an excellent student, and I am shocked to see him set apart from his classmates.”
Helen was taken aback. Ms. Balay’s voice was stern, reflecting a strong, confident woman who was quick to stand up for her son. Helen felt her cheeks flushed as she tried to compose a response. Hearing the commotion, Meghan hurried to the back of the room, asking Helen to escort the class to the hallway. Visibly flustered, Helen excused herself and led the class out the door. Ms. Balay addressed the teacher: “Has Aryan done something wrong? Why is he sitting away from the class, and not being taught by you? And why was I not informed of this?”
Meghan apologized to Ms. Balay mother, who had come to help chaperone the field trip. After an awkward, rushed conversation—students impatiently waiting in the hall—Meghan suggested that Ms. Balay come back to meet after school that day to discuss the whole matter. Helen moved on to work the rest of the morning with her other classrooms, but felt out-of-sorts the rest of the day.
When Helen came to school the next morning, she still was not sure what exactly had precipitated the conflict from the day before. Then, when Aryan did not join the others in the literacy group, she felt confused. Why had he been pulled out of her group? Had she done something wrong? During a break, Helen asked Meghan what was going on. Meghan explained to her that Aryan’s mother had been upset to find her boy separated from the other students and wanted him working with the rest of the class. This had never happened before, and Helen was taken aback to think that she was viewed as somehow depriving a student from an opportunity. As she saw it, she was providing extra support—a bonus, not a barrier! “What’s wrong with getting some help? My own son Arne would certainly have been better off with some small group support last year,” she thought to herself. She caught herself feeling a strange defensiveness toward “outsiders” rising within her.
November
Back with the whole class, Aryan continued to struggle. Helen and Meghan could not help but feel like the lack of additional support was a barrier, but they also felt like their hands were tied. They felt like they needed to walk on eggshells whenever Ms. Balay showed up to pick up her son.
First quarter report cards were issued, showing Aryan barely passing in English Language Arts and struggling in many subjects. As she was scheduling parent–teacher conferences last week, Meghan asked Helen and Rob to both attend the conference with Ms. Balay. She wanted to be prepared to use the occasion to discuss with Ms. Balay the supports Aryan was receiving and suggest formally assessing him to determine whether he qualified for any support services. Was a language barrier causing the low achievement? This seemed like a logical place to start.
Tonight was the night for the conference. As Helen drove back into MHES, conflicting thoughts roiled around her head. Some of her thoughts were focused on the situation at hand: Should she help convince Ms. Balay to let her help Aryan? What did this mother find so threatening about Helen providing her son support? Her mind wandered to the bigger picture: Why did she find herself working primarily with students who were new to the Maple Hills community? Who else in the school should be helping get a better handle on what was getting in the way of Aryan’s learning? Had anyone taken the time to build bridges directly with these parents? She certainly had not. As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw Ms. Balay and Aryan walking toward the school. “Well, here goes!” she thought to herself as she got out of her car and hustled to catch up to them.
Teaching Notes
This case is crafted to help students in Educational Leadership programs wrestle with the complexity of issues related to equitable service delivery (Theoharis & Scanlan, 2015). It may be applicable in a range of courses, including Supervision of Instruction, Organizational Learning, and Introduction to Educational Leadership.
The case raises many issues, both directly and indirectly. One is phenomenon of service delivery decisions emerging in idiosyncratic manners. In this case, the classroom teacher (Meghan) initially works informally with her instructional assistant (Helen) in choosing to add several boys to a group receiving supplemental literacy support. It is almost accidental how one of these boys’ mothers (Ms. Balay) happens to learn that this shift has taken place. This creates an opportunity to discuss how school leaders balance delegating decision making across the school with establishing consistent and fair routines and structures (Frattura & Capper, 2007).
Another teaching aspect of this case for educational leadership involves the conflation of educational needs with cultural and linguistic differences. Here, the student in question (Aryan) is struggling with reading. As a fourth grader, he is at an age where persistent struggles in reading become especially worrisome. Thus, school leaders must address such academic struggles aggressively, building the instructional capacity of their faculty (Cohen & Ball, 1999). At the same time, Aryan has just arrived in a new country and is learning a new language. School leaders must attend to these cultural and linguistic dimensions of learning (Scanlan & López, 2014). Considering this complex intersection of dimensions, students in educational leadership can begin to unpack how schedules, routines, and protocols either promote or inhibit the boundary spanning among personnel with varying types of expertise (Akkerman & Bakker, 2011; Coldren & Spillane, 2007). Who else should be involved in helping unpack what barriers are inhibiting Aryan in class? One related issue to both of these points that school administrators can consider is how protocols can help reduce needless and perhaps detrimental variations in practice (Gawande, 2011).
A third leadership issue that this case raises involves human resource management. Unlike typical cases in the Journal of Cases in Educational Leadership, the principal (Rob) is not the central figure. Instead, the case foregrounds the perspective of a classroom instructional assistant (Helen). By flipping these perspectives, placing a relatively minor voice at the center of a case on educational leadership, this case seeks to create space for students aspiring toward positions in school administration to consider to what degree perspectives from diverse personnel are integrated into processes of decision making. This can open space for considering alternative options for structuring teaching, such as collaborative and co-teaching arrangements.
Finally, this case unfolds against the backdrop of a rural community that is experiencing a demographic transformation. School administrators can take deliberate steps to facilitate thoughtful responses to such transformations, facing the intersecting issues of language, culture, race, and ethnicity. A key part of this is developing norms of culturally relevant pedagogical practices (Delpit, 1995; Ladson-Billings, 1995, 2007). Another part is developing a thoughtful approach to culturally and linguistically diverse students in terms of both pedagogy (Miramontes, Nadeau, & Commins, 2011) and policy (Callahan & Gandara, 2014; Menken & Garcia, 2010). This also involves authentically engaging parents and community members (Auerbach, 2012). Although a couple community organizations are mentioned in the text (a church, a hospital), virtually no perspectives from personnel in the community are integrated. This absence is intentional, meant to reflect a tendency of schools to work in isolation from other organizations (Miller, Scanlan, & Wills, 2014). This creates an opportunity to reflect on the degree to which we notice—in our school leadership—perspectives that are altogether missing.
Discussion Prompts
As this case suggests, some aspects of service delivery can be formalized whereas other aspects left informal. What are advantages and disadvantages of each?
The case portrays that educators in MHES take a very decentralized approach to discerning educational interventions. What expertise should the teacher (Meghan) and instructional assistant (Helen) be integrating into this discernment? What is the principal’s (Rob) responsibility in brokering this expertise?
Helen, an instructional assistant, is the central character in this narrative. How might the story be told differently from the perspective of the teacher (Meghan), the principal (Rob), the mother (Ms. Balay), or the child (Aryan)? What about from a character not even mentioned, such as the school’s bilingual resource specialist?
Why are perspectives from community-based organizations not woven into this case? What does this suggest about the patterns of communication that predominate in school communities? What are some implications of this for school leaders in areas facing dramatic demographic transformations?
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.