What I'd Do Differently This Time

By Charlie Irish

Editor's note from Corky O'Callaghan: Is the school yard becoming the next battlefield in our nation’s culture clash? As you know, the schools were brought into the fray this September when the President spoke to our nation’s school children. Now, Fox News and some of the Internet bloggers are airing videos about possible indoctrination occurring in some of our schools. Regardless of the attitude one holds towards the news sources exposing this kind of information, I am concerned that the situation could evolve into a full blown culture clash with the schools getting caught in the middle. My friend and business partner, Charlie Irish, lived through this kind of culture clash in the early 1990’s when he was superintendent of the Medina City Schools in Medina, Ohio. Below, Charlie shares some personal insights about what he learned and what he’d do differently this time.

Last September’s flap over President Obama’s presentation to the nation’s school children: Was it a passing side-skirmish in the current health care debate? Or, was it a shot over the bow, serving as a warning that our schools are about (once again) to become a battlefield in a national struggle over values?

Those of us who remember what were then called the “Outcome Based Education Wars” of the early 90’s have vivid memories of groups assailing schools for teaching what they called un-American and un-Christian values. (One of the leaders of the anti-OBE movement, incidentally, lived in my school district.) It wasn’t pretty. They often cited examples of “liberal, anti-Christian” curricula. When we explained that these practices were never employed in our schools, our accusers would disagree, relying on the rhetoric of the anti-OBE leaders who painted all schools with one large brush stroke.

My district was attacked quite brutally and regularly for more than a year. Rallies were held in local churches and other civic auditoriums. Every word that we uttered and every document we published was scrutinized. If any of our rhetoric or publications contained any of the “dangerous code language,” we were attacked in these meetings and in the press for “doing OBE.”

Of course we responded with the facts that we believed would dispel the accusations. We held meetings with our critics and we published articles in the various media to “correct these misstatements.” But the attacks continued. Where we thought logic would rule, demagoguery prevailed.

We ended up doing very little, including improving our curriculum. Then in time, things settled down somewhat in Ohio and the rest of the nation as school district after school district backed off of any kind of reform that used language other than traditional rote.

It has taken me the better part of two decades and work in communities across Ohio to distance myself from the effects of so many personal attacks, and to gain an objective perspective on what had happened. I believe the mistake that we and every other school district made was to assume that the problem was exactly what our critics had said it was – the curriculum. It wasn’t that at all. It was all about a fear that their closely held values were being eroded in a rapidly changing society. And, what better example of this change was there than a school district trying to adapt itself? Schools became the logical place to lash out.

I had been befuddled by my inability to change the tone of the attacks on the schools by presenting clear and logical evidence that we weren’t doing what we had been accused of. That didn’t matter one bit. These people just weren’t going to believe us. It got to the point that I viewed them as either dishonest or ignorant, and I treated them accordingly. Clearly, these people and the schools were headed down two completely different paths, each holding the other in great disdain.
This experience should not have surprised me as it did. After all, I had seen political campaigns where truth had taken a holiday, and I had been exposed every day to product advertising where viewers were asked to believe outrageous claims. It had become the norm, not the exception, to see people buy into things that others found incredible. Why?

I think that the 20th century philosopher Bertrand Russell hit the nail on the head when he talked about this aspect of human nature: “What a man believes upon grossly insufficient evidence is an index into his desires -- of which he himself is often unconscious. If a man is offered a fact which goes against his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence. The origin of myths is explained in this way.”

Today’s popular opinion makers on the right and left seem to instinctively understand this. Even when they are “busted” for being loose with the truth, their followers are undaunted. People want to hear stories that conform to their instincts. Just as a myth is known to be untrue, these accounts also tell a story that adds definition to ones beliefs. It does no good to attack it for a lack of validity.

If I were to once again face what confronted me in those OBE days, I would approach the situation differently. Ideally, I would pick up on a sign that something might be happening. It could be talk in the community, or problems in other communities. At that point, the last thing I would do would be to prepare for a battle. Rather, I would seek out individuals and groups in the community to talk about it. While I wouldn’t exclude my friends and supporters, I would reach as far and as wide as possible. I would especially include those whom I believe might become motivated to pick up on this national rhetoric. Additionally, I wouldn’t try to do it all myself. I would create a team to broaden this reach.

Creating these opportunities for conversation would be the first step, but equally important would be the content of the conversation that is held. In my OBE days I arranged these gatherings, but I spent my time trying to convince people that we weren’t doing what they accused us of. That made the conversation all about the schools, and not about the people who were fearful. In hindsight, that’s exactly what we should have talked about. Even though I had read Stephen Covey’s words that we should “seek first to understand and then to be understood,” I didn’t heed them. Had I truly listened to my critics to understand their deep concerns – the story beneath the rhetoric – the outcome may have been different.

The conversation wouldn’t have to have been about coming to a resolution with a certain agreement for action. (We superintendents are good at that.) Rather, it would have been framed as trying to understand what people really cared about, what they valued, and what they feared. Although, differences in values would likely have emerged, common values would have been discovered as well. The direction things would have eventually gone from that point could not have been predicted. But, whatever would have happened, it would have happened in an environment of greater trust.

They say that hindsight is 20 / 20. Sometimes I wonder about that. It is also said that those who fail to pay attention to the lessons of history are bound to repeat it. The conditions that led up to a school yard battlefield over OBE are much the same as we’re seeing today. Will we repeat history or heed Stephen Covey’s words and ”seek first to understand; then be understood”?