Abstract
Through widespread “opt-out” efforts over the past several years, parent and student activists have pressured schools, districts, states, and the federal government to reconsider the extent and limits of state-mandated assessments. This case study focuses on the ethical questions faced by a principal in a school divided over state standardized testing. Facing a new wave of refusals, this leader must respond to parents and teachers who have concerns about testing, as well as other members of her community who support these assessments. This case considers how a school leader might balance different, competing obligations: to respect parents’ rights, acknowledge teachers’ concerns, support student learning, and implement district and state policy.
Over the past year, Principal Cora Lewin had become aware of the growing number of students and families “opting out” of state assessments in Colorado. 1 This trend started in a few suburban districts outside Denver, but had quickly become an issue of statewide concern. Most of the resistance had started when the state rolled out new science and social studies assessments in the Fall of 2014. Aligned to the Common Core State Standards (CCSS), these exams supplemented the state’s English Language Arts (ELA) and Math tests that had been developed through the Partnership for Assessment of Readiness for College and Careers (PARCC). 2 These new exams were designed to be an improvement from previous state standardized tests. Aligned to college- and career-ready standards, the tests aimed to measure students’ ability to think critically and apply knowledge, on a range of different tasks (not just multiple-choice questions).
This shift, however, was met with considerable resistance. Organized groups of students in several suburban high schools staged large walkouts to protest the new tests. Still others stayed home, or quickly “bubbled their way through” the exams. Overall, more than 5,000 Colorado 12th graders refused to take the tests in November 2014. These numbers were particularly concentrated in a few suburban high schools in more resourced communities. In Boulder County’s Fairview High, for example, only nine of 530 eligible seniors took the test. Opting out spread like wildfire the next spring (2015), as increasing numbers of students and parents refused to take the new ELA and Math exams. Many high school students opted out en masse; in Louisville, Colorado, for instance, not a single 11th grader took the test at Centaurus High School in 2015. While concentrated in high schools, middle schools also had relatively high rates of test refusals. At Boulder’s Platt Middle School, approximately 40% of seventh and eighth grade students took the 2015 ELA and Math exams. Participation rates remained higher in elementary schools (a district average of 90%), but several schools had high number of test refusals.
While many large suburban districts led these efforts, some of the highest opt-out rates were in small, rural districts throughout the state. Indeed, in Colorado, only five districts had test participation rates of 95% in 2015, the cut-off for federal funding eligibility. However, the federal government—immersed in efforts to reauthorize federal education legislation—did not cut off funding to states that fell below mandated participation rates. This legislation, the Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA), authorized in December 2015, maintained participation thresholds at 95%, but largely gave states responsibility to enforce the requirement.
This wave of resistance did, however, spur action at the state level in Colorado. After widespread opt-outs of the ELA and Math tests in the spring of 2015, the Colorado Department of Education radically scaled back the testing requirements for high school students, moving to far fewer tests, and ones that might be more “meaningful” to students and families, like the scholastic aptitude test (SAT) or preliminary scholastic aptitude test (PSAT). Testing in Grades 3 to 8 remained largely unchanged, however, and state legislators opted to keep a few high school state assessments. Even after these changes, opt-out rates continued to be high in 2016. In addition, state legislation passed in May 2015 also specified that students and parents could not be penalized for opting out of state-mandated tests and that districts needed to inform parents of their legal rights to opt out.
Case Narrative
Principal Cora Lewin’s school had remained fairly insulated from these debates. Mountain View was a K-8 school in Oak Park, a north Denver neighborhood. Opt-out rates had been fairly low in the Denver Public Schools, even in high schools, and almost non-existent at Mountain View. Even amid the wave of high school opt-outs in 2015, 89% of 11th grade students at Denver’s North HS took the ELA exam; participation rates remained even higher for the district as a whole. Mountain View had at least 95% participation rates as far as Lewin could remember. Although she heard about families opting out of testing, she had largely dismissed it as a situation for her suburban colleagues to deal with. All that had changed this school year.
In the fall, Lewin had a surprising number of meetings with parents to discuss their concerns with testing. Many parents had also emailed her to raise concerns about the time spent testing. And, in recent weeks, parents had started to turn in “refusal” forms, many of which appeared to be printed from the website of a local community group, “Advocating for Children.” This group helped support parents to “exercise their rights” to opt children out of state tests. Now it was almost March; spring testing season was a little over a month away. Between the refusal forms she’d already received, and her sense of parents’ views, Lewin anticipated that almost half of students in Grades 3 to 8 were not going to take the spring exams.
Lewin felt pressure from the district to raise the school’s performance on annual assessments. The school’s test scores had been fair, but low enough to receive a yellow “Watch” rating on the district’s accountability framework. Lewin was particularly troubled by a stubborn test score gap in the school between students that qualified for free and reduced lunch (FRL) and those who did not. She had spent her career drawing attention to the challenges faced by low-income students, often asserting that the so-called “achievement gap” was really an “opportunity gap.” Mountain View’s test scores did not perfectly correlate with family income, but the school’s many emerging bilingual students did not do as well on the test, and students from middle-income families tended to do better than those from low-income families.
Mountain View was now one of the most racially and economically integrated buildings in the district: 45% of its students qualified for FRL, and families identified as approximately 25% African American, 30% Latino, 40% White, and 5% Asian. These demographics had shifted fairly dramatically in her tenure; when she started, about 70% of the school’s families qualified for FRL. While not one of the most “sought after” schools in the district, Mountain View had a good reputation in the neighborhood, and Lewin had been given credit for putting the school on a stronger footing. However, the school’s improving reputation—and neighborhood housing pressures—had contributed to many new families choosing the school, and occasional moments of tension. Newer families, for example, were often unaware of Denver’s long and contentious history of school segregation. Long-term residents of Oak Park, however, had lived through the busing and integration reforms that followed the 1973 Keyes case. Many African American and Latino community members viewed recent neighborhood gentrification through this contested history. 3
Thus far, Lewin had been able to navigate these complex dynamics. She had been the principal at Mountain View for 5 years, but had worked in the district for the last 20 years. As a veteran teacher, she had won the respect of her staff (with a few small exceptions). And, as a longtime African American resident of North Denver, she had an easy rapport with many of the school’s families. Yet, the opt-out issue was quickly becoming a topic of tension and division at the school, particularly during PTA meetings.
The chair of the PTA, Laura Bishop, had initiated these conversations, but her concerns were echoed by many other parents. Laura saw the tests as an unnecessary distraction. As she pointed out at the last PTA meeting, Mountain View’s teachers “didn’t get the scores until fall; that’s too late for the tests to play any meaningful role in supporting classroom instruction or interventions.” Laura also worried about the time spent on testing (generally about 4–5 school days each spring, spread across 2 weeks) and the ways in which teachers focused classroom time on reviewing for the tests. She asked, “What else could students be doing with this time?” From Lewin’s vantage point, Mountain View did far less “test prep” than many other schools in the district, but she did encourage her teachers to “think strategically” about preparing students for the annual exams: assigning homework that echoed key standards and helping students get used to taking timed tests. The state had recently moved to a computer-based testing system, and teachers had been preparing students to be able to use computers with more confidence. One of the district’s online interim assessment programs had been chosen because it closely approximated the format of these new computer-based questions. Lewin had supported these choices, as smart moves to help students prepare. She had also rearranged teachers’ schedules so that support staff and enrichment teachers could help administer the exams.
This last decision had been controversial for some parents. They objected to academic staff (including the school’s art and music teachers, literacy coaches, the librarian, and the gifted and talented coordinator) being pulled away for testing. Lewin knew this was “standard practice” at many schools in the district, but, for some parents, the shift underscored how testing constrained learning opportunities for all students, even the ones not taking the test. Allison Stevens, a parent who had led fund-raising efforts to support enrichment activities at the school (e.g., the spelling bee, the state history fair), had been particularly angry about these staffing decisions. “Why should my daughter—a second grader—lose her library time, and important weeks with her G&T teacher? She’s not even taking the tests!” Allison had suggested that students who refused tests should be allowed to meet in the library and work on enrichment projects during testing. Lewin knew that this suggestion was a non-starter. The district was quite clear that students opting out were not to be given alternate activities, or special classes; the only option was silent reading in the cafeteria. Beyond the requirement, Lewin would have objected to the idea that “some kids” would be tested, while “other kids” (usually the ones with the more vocal parents) received extra enrichment.
But parents were by no means unanimous in their thinking. Diane Williams, a longtime PTA member and volunteer, had sent four children through Mountain View; her youngest was in fourth grade. Diane had been polite, but dismissive, when other parents at PTA raised concerns about the test. Privately, to Principal Lewin, she rolled her eyes when the topic of opting out came up. Testing had been a major topic at their last board meeting and Diane had argued that the school needed (and deserved) to show how it was doing, especially given its hard work to improve outcomes for low-income kids. What might happen if a bunch of kids—especially ones likely to post strong scores—opted out? How would the school look? She added, “And I don’t have a problem with my kid taking the test; he’s tough.” Principal Lewin liked Diane, and saw her point, but winced at this last comment, which was aimed at some other parents in the room. Diane, and some parents at Mountain View, didn’t see “what all the fuss was about.” She’d heard from a number of parents who asked: “what was the big deal? And why now; the school had always taken the tests?” Some parents, mindful of district reform efforts, also felt a degree of loyalty to the school: they wanted Mountain View to “look good,” and to “show those folks down at the district that this is a great school.”
But other parents saw testing differently. In many meetings this year, Lewin heard about the anxiety that students felt to do well on the tests. Parents were angry that students experienced stress, frustration, or worries about letting their teachers down. As David Anderson explained, “my son comes home feeling stupid, like there is nothing he can do to answer those questions.” Lewin didn’t know how seriously to take these concerns. She was surprised to hear that students felt any pressure to raise their scores. Her staff had certainly spent a fair amount of time thinking about the tests: analyzing data, strategizing on how to improve their performance, and targeting interventions to students who might be able to move from the “less than proficient” to “proficient.” She had tried to underscore a sense of seriousness about testing, but didn’t feel like she had placed undue pressure on teachers or students. While not dismissing parents’ concerns, she sometimes wondered if they were a bit overblown. But, she also acknowledged that the assessments—and the eventual results—were prioritized by the district and were a key part of the district’s accountability rating system. As such, they fueled public scrutiny and attention; all of which was certainly felt and experienced by students, parents, and teachers.
She had been more moved by certain objections. Rose López, a mother of a fifth grader, turned in her refusal form last week. On it, she wrote, My daughter has big dreams; she wants to be a surgeon. But she’s been doing some of the practice assessments, and has told me her scores mean she won’t be able to be a doctor. She’s bright and smart, and it is too early for her to be worried about scores!
June Brooks had spoken with Lewin about her seventh-grade son, who was on the autism spectrum, and whose individualized education plan specified a range of testing accommodations: How can my son take a standardized exam when he has this kind of IEP? I know what happens when John takes these tests. His teacher has to write all his answers for him, most of which he can’t give anyway. I know he’s gotten a zero on previous statewide exams. This is just a huge waste of his time and the teacher’s time. They should be spending that time learning.
The upcoming tests had been a central topic at last month’s PTA meeting. While Lewin knew some parents were supportive, or neutral, about the tests, a few parents had been particularly vocal in their objections. Jessica McDonough, a parent of two children, had been active in the “Advocating for Children” group. This group was organized by parents across the state and mainly operated through their Facebook page. They published calls for action, opt out support documents, and op-eds. At the meeting, McDonough argued that the tests were a tool of privatization: “Who do these tests benefit? For-profit test makers like Pearson, not our kids!” She also objected to the district’s adoption of computer-based assessments, and new interim-assessment systems that were aligned to the state tests. As she noted, “All that screen time cannot be good, and it’s another million-dollar contract for a for-profit company.”
Darrell Layton, an African American parent active in the PTA, had also taken a lead in these conversations. Jackson argued that the tests were biased against students of color, and asked the group, How exactly do you think more testing is going to end racism for our students? How is testing going to help our kids? Let’s be honest, we went from literacy tests at the polls to standardized testing; it absolutely makes no sense.
Lewin, observing the meeting from the back of the school cafeteria, noticed several parents nodding their heads, and thought to herself that she’d have more refusal forms on her desk in the morning. She, too, felt the weight of Layton’s words; in part because they resonated with her own experiences.
Lewin was an active member of the local Denver-area chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). Her chapter, which included a number of local teachers, had been following the debate about opting out, nationally and in Colorado. With other civil rights groups, the national NAACP office had come out strongly against opt-out efforts, noting “we rely on the consistent, accurate, and reliable data provided by annual statewide assessments to advocate for better lives and outcomes for our children. These data are critical for understanding whether and where there is equal opportunity” (Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights, 2015). This national position had been resisted by some local chapters around the country. The Seattle NAACP chapter, for example, had issued a counter-statement: Using standardized tests to label Black people and immigrants as lesser—while systematically underfunding their schools—has a long and ugly history. It is true we need accountability measures, but that should start with politicians being accountable to fully funding education and ending the opportunity gap . . . The use of high-stakes tests has become part of the problem, rather than a solution. (Network for Public Education, 2015)
Lewin’s local Denver chapter had not yet taken a stand, and she wasn’t sure what it should be. As a veteran teacher, she had observed the caustic effects of some teachers’ low expectations for “those kids” and had seen how the chronic failures of the system had long remained invisible. While Lewin was skeptical of the newer education reform movements in the district (particularly efforts to “turnaround” or “reconstitute” schools), she saw that many low-income students and students of color had benefited from the district’s “unrelenting focus” on raising student achievement. In particular, she applauded the district directing more resources (literacy coaches and lower class sizes) to schools that were struggling academically. What would happen to these students, and potential resources, if there was no measure of academic achievement?
At the same time, Lewin understood the opposition. Too often, test scores had been used to identify particular schools as “failing” and had ushered in policies designed to close the lowest performing schools and open new ones, many of which were schools of choice. Test scores had also been included in state and district teacher evaluation systems, a move that had been resisted by many teachers in her district. Lewin, thinking to herself, noted that the real problem was what the test results were used for: there was a difference, she thought, between using data to advocate for more resources and using the data to close schools, rank teachers, and support reform efforts.
Similar debates had been playing out among Mountain View’s teachers. Mountain View—like most schools in the district—faced pressure to improve their test scores. In general, Lewin’s staff had an easy collegiality. But conversations about testing had surfaced areas of disagreement. While teachers understood the accountability pressures faced by Mountain View, most teachers did not see the tests as particularly useful for teaching or learning. As Amy Collins, a seventh-grade teacher, said in the last faculty meeting, Just think of all the content we could cover if we weren’t spending a week on testing, plus all the time reviewing, as well as the interim assessments that we do to help kids prepare? I mean, I’m not opposed to the tests in general, I just wish they were more useful.
Amy also noted that teachers generally didn’t receive any information from the tests until the next school year; long after students had moved on to the next grade level. Amy and a few other teachers had largely shrugged off the number of parents opting out. She was, however, more worried about the logistical challenges of testing, when perhaps half of her students would need an alternate activity, and staff to monitor them.
Other teachers were more bothered by the growing number of opt-outs. This year, Mountain View’s staff included two new teachers who had transferred from a nearby “no excuses” style charter school. Wendy, one of these teachers, now teaching sixth grade, had argued that Mountain View should do more to discourage opting out. She had tried to educate her students and parents about the importance of test data, before referring their concerns and questions to the principal. Her frustrations in the meeting were clear: I just can’t believe I have students opting out of these tests! And it’s mostly the students who would do so well; their absence is going to just kill our scores. Don’t their parents understand that? We should have something to show for all our hard work.
Thomas, a veteran fifth-grade teacher, had quickly responded: Show for it? We have plenty to show for all our hard work. What about grades on our tests! You know, the ones we write, the ones that actually inform our instruction. I don’t buy this top-down nonsense. Look, Wendy, I’ve seen all this before. Testing is just another way to not actually address real issues, like the lack of funding for public education.
Sarah, another fifth-grade teacher, nodded her head, sharing, “I get that we have to do them, but let’s not pretend they are useful, and let’s not let them change what we need to do in our classrooms.” Maria, a literacy coach, chimed in, “and think about how difficult it is for our emerging bilingual students to do well on these tests, even when they are making real gains in the classroom. These tests are biased against our students!” Surveying the room, Lewin knew that many of her other teachers—even if they did not speak up—hated testing. She could hardly blame them. The tests were disruptive and nerve-wracking. Worse yet, many teachers didn’t feel these tests accurately captured student learning. Some teachers dismissed them as “snapshots,” while others were more concerned that the tests systematically discriminated against students of color.
Lewin found herself grateful that the faculty meeting had been at the end of the day and that people were tired and ready to go home, otherwise the disagreements might have grown sharper. She promised teachers they would discuss the issue again next week and that she might be able to offer better guidance. But, here, Lewin found herself at a loss. After her meeting with teachers, she called the district’s central Assessment Office to get some insight. She was concerned that teachers (with very different views on the topic) were offering conflicting advice to parents. And she felt pressure to offer clear guidance. “What information should we give parents,” she’d asked, and “what case do we make?” Her phone call yesterday with Dr. Benson, the district’s head of assessment, offered little help. The new state law, he noted, “prevents you from encouraging parents to opt-out.” But, he added, “you can’t discourage them either.” The district needed and valued data, but they had tried to say “as little as possible.”
Indeed, Lewin remembered the official email that the district had sent a few weeks ago, formally notifying parents of their legal “right to refuse” to have their child take state exams. It was assiduously neutral and very brief. Lewin asked Dr. Benson if someone from the assessment office might be able to come and speak to the school’s PTA, to offer more context on state testing, and some of the trade-offs the school might face if they lost data from the state exams. He demurred, “Well, we have to be cautious because of the new state law; districts have been under fire, and we wouldn’t want to give the impression that we were encouraging parents one way or the other . . .” Lewin found herself taking a deep breath on the phone before replying, With all due respect, Dr. Benson, what am I supposed to say? Part of my job is to articulate a vision for the work we do as a school. If we don’t have a vision for the tests, why should we expect anyone else, our parents or teachers or students, to buy into them?
“I know it’s hard,” he said, “and we depend on the data, but my hands are really tied.”
The tension was weighing on Lewin. Testing season was coming up fast, and she was feeling pressure from parents and teachers to take a stand. The PTA wanted her to convene an all-school meeting to answer parents’ questions about testing. She’d promised Laura Bishop, the chair, that she would have more information after talking to the district. She also knew that teachers expected more guidance at their next faculty meeting. Just to herself, she admitted feeling a sense of responsibility. It felt wrong to wash her hands of the controversy; teachers and parents were looking to her for guidance. She also didn’t want the issue to fracture the school’s sense of shared purpose; something she’d worked hard to build over the last 5 years. While respecting parents’ rights to direct their children’s education, Lewin also had a sense that attending public school came with certain shared obligations. Cynically, she wondered where it might end: would parents ask to opt-out of interim assessments next? What about standards-based curriculum, or end-of-unit tests? She glanced up at the clock: 7:35 a.m. Soon, parents would be stopping by her office after dropping off their kids. How might she respond to parent and teacher concerns? How should she proceed?
Teaching Notes
Through widespread “opt out” efforts over the past several years, parent and student activists have pressured districts, states, and the federal government to reconsider the extent and limits of state-mandated assessments. Although sometimes characterized as a “movement,” the parents, teachers, and education leaders supporting opt-out efforts represent a range of political, class, racial, and ideological interests (Authors, 2017). Activists have framed their opposition to testing in terms of social justice and equity, defending parental rights, resisting corporate influence and privatization in public education, protecting children from anxiety, defending authentic learning, and upholding teacher professionalism.
Opt-out efforts have also met with criticism from school reform groups, federal and state authorities, and civil rights groups (Bennett, 2016). Civil rights groups highlighted the importance of accurate data for documenting and addressing disparities in education (Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights, 2015). Critics also note that opting out is more common in wealthier districts that receive less federal funding and bear fewer consequences from high-stakes reforms that depend on test scores (Morial, 2015). Still others argue that accountability reforms have disproportionately damaged low-income communities of color (Au, 2016; Dianis et al., 2015). These differences highlight questions of power and privilege within the movement: has opting out been more politically acceptable because it originated in affluent White communities?
The growing resistance to state testing has occurred against rapid shifts in federal, state, and district policies. These policy changes have resulted in what Mitra et al. (2016) term a “contested space” of “policy ambiguity,” upending familiar left-right political distinctions and unsettling the landscape of assessment in many states and school districts. Educational leaders are particularly caught up in this ambiguity: asked to negotiate their own professional convictions (whether supportive or skeptical of testing) with accountability mandates and competing stakeholder concerns. In the wake of opt-out activism, how might leaders navigate the contested issues of assessment and accountability?
This case study focuses on these practical and ethical questions, in the context of a school community divided over testing. Facing a new wave of refusals, this principal must consider how to respond to parent, teacher, and community concerns. Adding to this complex situation, the state has created an ambiguous policy environment by officially sanctioning parents’ rights to opt-out while also expecting districts to reach the federally mandated 95% testing participation rate. This principal’s district has remained relatively silent on the issue, but still expects school leaders to implement testing practices. As a result, Principal Lewin is caught between conflicting obligations: to follow current testing policy, to respond to concerns from families and teachers, and to communicate a clear vision around assessment to her school community. The case opens up a number of class discussions about testing and accountability, as well as equity, parent activism, and public engagement. We briefly highlight three interrelated issues: (a) the ethical challenges of school leadership, (b) contested debates about equity and accountability, and (c) how leaders negotiate accountability reforms.
Ethical Challenges Facing School Leaders
This case offers students a view of the ethically complex field of school leadership in a community with divided opinions about testing. Such divided opinions are more and more common in schools across the country. As researchers have noted, patterns of resistance have coalesced in new ways around accountability-based reforms. McDonnell (2013) details how the rise of accountability policies altered long-standing political dynamics in education. In particular, the CCSS and new standards-aligned assessments have been met with a firestorm of resistance and have grown increasingly unpopular (Supovitz & Spillane, 2015). These tensions can land squarely on the principal’s or superintendent’s desk. School and district leaders are asked to respond to parent, student, and teacher concerns about the purpose and extent of testing; likewise, they are also charged with implanting state accountability mandates and federal educational policy.
Negotiating these competing priorities asks school and district leaders to weigh competing “goods” (Strike, 2006). For example, educational leaders must balance parents’ concerns (and sometimes their legal rights) against a district’s need for data on academic achievement. At times, the interests of particular families must be weighed against others. In other cases, the opposition of a community is positioned against the authority of the state.
These, in short, are distinctly ethical dilemmas of leadership. Here, this case offers an opportunity for students to explore ethical aspects of educational leadership. Scholars have explored the ethical dispositions required by leaders (Duignan, 2012), especially those that prioritize justice and equity (Theoharis, 2007). Other scholars have explored the democratic qualities of leadership, arguing that ethical leadership requires engaging communities in collaborative decision-making (Gerstl-Pepin & Aiken, 2009) and strengthening relationships between schools and the communities they serve (Stone-Johnson, 2014). Part of this, as Kathleen Knight Abowitz (2015) argues, demands that leaders build “community and shared identity, forging an inclusive sense of ‘we’ around a school mission” (p. 153).
Contested Relationship Between Accountability and Equity
Researchers have noted how these ethical commitments have been challenged in an era of high-stakes accountability reforms (Gross & Shapiro, 2002). As Mette and Scribner (2014) argue, “Ethical leadership acknowledges that the concept of accountability is more than simply raising standardized test scores; equally important is taking into account professional standards, encouraging engagement from the local community, and valuing the opinions of stakeholders throughout the community” (p. 11). In addition, leaders are also asked to think through multiple, sometimes competing visions of what is in the “best interest” of students (Shapiro & Stefkovich, 2016).
Here, one of the most striking arguments against opting-out came from a broad coalition of civil rights groups, including the NAACP and National Council of La Raza, who argued that standardized tests provide crucial information for addressing educational inequalities. In a 2015 statement, this coalition argued, “When parents ‘opt-out’ of tests—even when out of protest for legitimate concerns—they’re not only making a choice for their own child, they’re inadvertently making a choice to undermine efforts to improve schools for every child” (Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights, 2015). For these groups, opting-out not only denies parents crucial information about how their children are doing in school, but damages the data necessary to advocate for equal education for all children.
Others, however, argue that opting-out is a form of political action designed to force change in a system that disproportionately harms low-income children of color (Au, 2016). As Stefkovich and Begley (2007) argue, the “organizational or policy-related rhetoric” of education reforms can shape—even distort—what is in the “best interests” of students (p. 220). In effect, policies can frame the “best interests of students” in ways that reinforce the interests of school districts and policymakers. Indeed, as Firestone (2009) argues, “accountability cultures,” focusing on coherence and centralized control, can actually work against “student learning cultures,” focused on strong teaching and authentic learning opportunities.
How Leaders Negotiate Accountability Reforms
In this sense, the relationship between tests and the “best interests of children” is contested and unclear, particularly in the community of Mountain View. The principal is charged with something far more complex than simply “implementing policy.” Principals occupy a unique space in public education. They respond to not only their students and staff, but also to families in their community, and to different district and state authorities. School leaders not only communicate decisions and administer policy, but are tasked with bridging differences, securing support, and building community (Stone-Johnson, 2014; Strike, 2006). As Duignan (2012) reminds us, school organizations are “essentially non-linear fields of relationships and that leadership influence is not simply a linear process to be effected through managerial, supervisory or hierarchical processes” (p. 21). In contrast, school leaders often use other tactics rather than their “positional power” to convince stakeholders about the legitimacy of various educational reforms (Diamond & Spillane, 2016). These tactics, as Spillane and Anderson (2019) found, are grounded in persuasion as much as authority, as school leaders frame (and re-frame) policy messages, position (and re-position) themselves vis-à-vis external policymakers, and employ select ideas about the goals of instruction and teacher professionalism.
In these ways, scholars have argued that schools are uniquely “open systems,” influenced both by local stakeholders and neighborhood contexts, as well by other policy demands and accountability sanctions (Kraft et al., 2015). In such systems, principals are often asked to “mediate” between external accountabilities and local stakeholders, practices, and communities (Spillane & Kenney, 2012). For instance, Knapp and Feldman (2012) argue that school leaders often “merge an externally-driven logic, reflecting management, bureaucratic, and political accountabilities, with one that is more professionally-driven, and anchored to patterns of professional and moral accountability” (p. 37). Here, accountability pressures—and community resistance to reforms—ask school leaders to reflect on their political commitments and ethical obligations. The following questions offer several ways to explore these inter-connected issues.
Discussion Questions
Values and Identity in Leadership: As noted in the case, Lewin’s own view of testing is complex. As a veteran teacher and school leader, she recognized some positive aspects of accountability (focusing on disparities, targeting resources and interventions), but was also critical of others (narrowing curriculum, teacher evaluation changes, school closures, etc.). Faced with an ambiguous district and state policy context, what kind of guidance should Lewin provide her community? How much of her own perspective on the role of testing should Lewin share with her staff and families? What opportunities for dialogue and discussion should she facilitate, and for who?
Communication and Consensus: Knight Abowitz (2015) describes the important role of communication in educational leadership, arguing that leaders need to “build community and shared identity, forging an inclusive sense of ‘we’ around a school mission” (p. 153). Other scholars have noted that consensus may not always be possible in complex organizations, highlighting positive aspects of differentiation or fragmentation in organizations (Martin, 2002), as well as the need for school leaders to maintain a fluid and adaptable vision of educational change (Fullan, 1998). The Mountain View school community was certainly fragmented. While a few parents supported testing, and many were neutral, a growing number of parents supported opting out. Teachers were also divided. And, although a few teachers supported taking the state tests, many other teachers were skeptical about how useful the tests were, and others saw them as harmful. How might Lewin negotiate disagreements in her community around testing? Furthermore, do you think that Lewin—or her the school community—needs to establish a consensus about the role of testing? Or might it be possible for this school community to pursue (certain) goals without a shared view of assessment and accountability?
Leadership in Gentrifying Communities: One of the unique features of this case—and one increasingly common in many “gentrifying” urban communities—are tensions between older, long-standing community members and newer residents; tensions that often play out along lines of race and class. In the Mountain View school community, different groups often had different views about testing, and different kinds of allegiances to—and demands for—their school and principal. What are the different relationships and obligations that Principal Lewin is responding to in this case? How might Lewin negotiate the interests of newer (often more privileged) families with long-term residents of the community? How might she respond to the different concerns and arguments posed by her community?
Leadership Standards and Accountability: The 2015 Professional Standards for School Leaders call on leaders to “act ethically and according to professional norms to promote each student’s academic success and well-being” (National Policy Board for Educational Administration, 2015; Standard 2). Standards remain a critical part of many education leadership programs and are often used to shape expectations for aspiring school leaders. The Standards foreground the well-being of students as a paramount goal. In many ways, Principal Lewin was asked to respond to parents’ concerns that the tests posed harm to particular students. On the contrary, critics might argue that not taking tests poses some threat to the collective well-being of students, if accurate assessment data is important for equity efforts. How should Principal Lewin think about—and assess—the various threats to student well-being in this case? How should Lewin balance the potential value of accurate assessment information—and the possibility that information could be used, at least in theory, to improve instruction—with the harms that testing might pose to particular students? How might her calculation of these harms shift, if the testing information was only used by district and state leaders (to assess the school’s general performance), and not by teachers (to improve student learning)? At the same time, the Standards charge leaders to, among other goals, “align and focus systems of curriculum, instruction, and assessment within and across grade levels,” to “Employ valid assessments that are consistent with knowledge of child learning and development and technical standards of measurement,” and “Use assessment data appropriately and within technical limitations to monitor student progress and improve instruction.” Given the multiple professional demands—and standards—for school leaders, how should Principal Lewin frame the role of assessment in her school community? How might she balance state and district mandates with the different stakeholders in her school community? To what extent—if any—should school leaders push back on state and district mandates? How might Lewin raise concerns at the district or state level? The standards do generally affirm the importance of assessments, with some qualifications: that the assessments be “valid,” and “consistent with knowledge of child learning and development,” and that any assessments should be used “appropriately,” and “within technical limitations.” Such phrases open considerable space for interpretation, especially when considered against certain researchers that have questioned the validity of tests, particularly for emerging bilingual students (see, for example, Menken, 2006; Solano-Flores & Nelson-Barber, 2001). How might Lewin, and other school leaders, evaluate the validity and appropriateness of state assessments? What obligations might she have to object to these assessments, even if they are required by the state? How might Lewin negotiate her professional concerns—and those of her teaching staff—with her obligations to implement state and district testing policy?
How School Leaders Respond to Parent Refusals: The rights of parents to opt-out of public education have long been recognized by legal decisions (i.e., Pierce v. Society of Sisters [1925], Wisconsin v. Yoder [1972]), even though the limits of these rights have been subject to extensive debate (Brighouse & Swift, 2006). Although debates about the role of testing have gained widespread public attention in recent years, this activism follows in a longer line of debates about the rights of parents to direct their children’s educational experiences. Here, opt-out efforts raise both policy and philosophical questions about the aims of public education (Authors, 2020). How might parents’ choices to accept or refuse assessments conflict with other public goals for education, such as equal opportunity? What kinds of shared knowledge might be necessary in a diverse, democratic society? What obligations do students and families have to participate in standardized testing? More broadly, should parents be able to opt out of aspects of public education they find objectionable? To what extent, and in what ways? How should school leaders respond to such refusals? How might they balance the rights of parents against other shared, collective goals for public education?
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.
