John Thompson, historian and teacher in Oklahoma City, has written a three-part series about superintendents “trained” by the unaccredited Broad Superintendents Academy, financed by the Eli and Edythe Broad Foundation.

He writes:

After less than two years on the job, another Broad-trained Oklahoma City School System superintendent resigned. I was struck by the many similarities between Aurora Lora’s (Broad class of 2015-16) term as superintendent and those of other Broad-trained reformers. Although I endorsed her efforts to advance gay rights and changing the names of schools named for Confederate generals, and even though she seemed to understand the need for a more holistic approach to schooling, trying to discuss education policy was extremely frustrating. The sincerity of those who disagreed was repeatedly dismissed, making the exchange of policy ideas difficult if not impossible.

In wake of Lora resignation, ‘we must become more civil’

And then came the Oklahoma teacher walkout and the conversations with educators who had similar experiences with Broad graduates. Although we appreciated Tulsa superintendent Deborah Gist’s (class of 2008) support for a teacher pay raise, she presided over a district with ten Broadies in leadership positions. (The hiring of another, from Denver, was announced last week, bringing the total to 11.) Despite the large number of Tulsa’s advantages in comparison to Oklahoma City, it is near the bottom of the nation’s urban schools in increasing student performance. When I hear from Tulsa teachers about the micromanaging imposed by the Broad-dominated administration, it’s hard to believe that their mandates haven’t undermined teaching and learning.

This prompted a survey of secondary sources, and an inventory of how and why other Broad graduates were dismissed or forced to resign. As with Oklahoma educators who finished each other’s sentences when discussing their Broad graduates, reporters across the nation used very similar language in describing the careers of their cities’ Broad superintendents. It was shocking to read how many of them played fast and loose with the facts before and after being hired, ruled their systems in similar ways, and left office in a comparable manner.

It would take a far more detailed study to determine whether Broad superintendents behave the way they do based on the personalities that they brought to the academy, as opposed to determining what it is about the organization that recruits such people and trains them to operate in such similar ways. I assume it is a combination of the two factors – it takes a certain type of mindset to advance in the corporate reform system, and there is something about the Broad world which turns out certain types of leaders.

Or should I say, turns out leadership outputs?

In 2007, the OKCPS hired a graduate of the Broad Superintendents’ Academy, John Q. Porter. The Broad Academy was run like a corporate executive training program, and it emphasized data, choice, and other market-driven policies. Broad superintendent candidates attended long weekend training sessions over a ten-week period. Their curriculum stressed instructional alignment, performance management systems, and leadership. Its management techniques emphasized “prioritizing and pacing work for optimal quality.”

Oklahoma City’s Broad graduate was unquestionably dedicated to the students, and he was a good enough sport to compete in my school’s first “Buffalo Chip Throwing Championship.” (Dressed in a fine business suit, the superintendent finished second, behind me, but unlike the champion buffalo feces thrower, he wore a plastic glove.) The superintendent enjoyed talking with my students, but he never seemed comfortable listening to teenagers when they disagreed with his policies. I never understood how a man, who was so committed to poor children of color, could be so unwilling to listen to the real experts on poor schools – the students whom he sought to help.

In one such meeting, the superintendent acknowledged that his experience had been in a suburban district that had nearly three times as much per student spending, but he said that his former district, Montgomery County, had more low income students than the OKCPS had students. I remained silent as my students tried to explain the difference between one of the nation’s top school systems where only a quarter of students were low income, and our schools where almost everyone was poor and most students were several years behind grade level. I was so proud of my students as they argued that poor kids in neighborhood schools could master the same high-quality material as kids in his old district, but that it would take time. Afterwards, my student leaders were blunt, saying that the superintendent had no idea of what he was rushing into.

At the same time, the principals whom I most admired were clearly intimidated by the new superintendent. Video cameras were installed in schools, not for supervising unsafe areas but as a first step toward monitoring routine activities. No memos, I was warned, should be sent by e-mail anymore. I wondered, perhaps naively, how policy discussions could be conducted without e-mail. Before long, however, it became clear that expressing dissent was no longer seen as appropriate and memos were no longer welcome.

According to assistant principals at my school, every teacher would now have to “be on the same page” in teaching at the same rate from the same textbook. My principal knew that I would not abide by that rule. Since I was an award-winning teacher who was then on his way to being selected the runner-up OKCPS Teacher of the Year, I had political leverage to make a deal. In case we had a visitor from the central office, my students would keep their textbooks open to the official page, regardless of whether they looked at it.

The superintendent confirmed to my students and me that he ultimately wanted a system where he could supervise classroom instruction by video throughout the district from his office. In the meantime, compliance was monitored by teams of central office staff. My visit was conducted by the former principal of the district’s nationally-ranked magnet school. This highly-paid professional continuously typed the details of our class’ instruction into his laptop. He obviously enjoyed the lesson, smiling at all of the best parts. When I tried to speak with the administrator, however, it was like we had never known each other. We later met in the hall, and started a real conversation. He complimented my lesson and relationships with students, but another central office administrator approached, and our discussion stopped mid-syllable.

A second post will describe published accounts of Broad superintendents’ behavior that show a very common and destructive pattern of abrasiveness, micromanaging, and playing fast and loose with many facts. Just as important, Broad seems to be doing its best to stop education conversations, mid-syllable, in schools across the nation.