NEA: February 2007 NEA Today - The Discipline Dean

      NEA:National Education Association
      Great Public Schools for Every Child

                  February 2007
                  Classroom Management

            The Discipline Dean

            Steven Johnston doesn’t send unruly students to the principal’s 
            office. He’s one of a growing number of teachers whose job it is to 
            set the tone for students at his school.

            By Tim Walker

            Kenny sits comfortably in the chair outside the office. He’d 
            ordinarily be in science lab now, but he caused enough of a 
            disruption for his teacher to send him upstairs. This is not his 
            first visit—not by a long shot—but Kenny says he’s a pretty 
            well-behaved student overall. As a freshman? Not so much.

            “I was a punk, getting in trouble all the time,” he says.

            Kenny (all student names have been changed) is now a junior at 
            Quincy High School in Quincy, Massachusetts, a “grey collar” suburb 
            of Boston. He has racked up more than his share of discipline 
            referrals, logging many hours with one Steven Johnston—or, as he’s 
            known to most of the students, “Mr. J.” 

            “Hi Mr. J.” Kenny looks up as Johnston approaches.

            “Why are you here?” he asks as he begins to read the teacher’s note.
            “I was waving my pencil across the sprinkler in science lab.”

            “Why were you doing that?” Johnston asks.

            “Lab can be boring as hell,” Kenny replies.

            “Boring as heck.”

            “Boring as heck.”

            Johnston motions the student into his office and closes the door. A 
            few minutes later, Johnston sends Kenny back to lab with a note to 
            the teacher instructing him to send him back for any issues. “He’s a 
            good kid,” Johnston says. “Believe me, two years ago, Kenny would 
            have set that sprinkler off.” Johnston walks over to his file 
            cabinet and pulls the student’s file. “Let’s see: cutting class, 
            disrupting class, smoking, tardiness, cutting class again, tardiness 
            again, out of the school perimeter. Yeah, Kenny’s mom was definitely 
            on my speed dial back then.”

            On this fall day, Kenny is just the latest in a convoy of Quincy 
            High students who have been diverted to Johnston’s office for a 
            variety of offenses, including tardiness, class disruptions, and 
            leaving school grounds. All in all, it’s a fairly typical day for 
            this “discipline dean,” one of four teachers at the school whose 
            time is largely devoted to student discipline issues.

            In the past, Quincy High’s assistant principal was saddled with 
            coordinating discipline, as is the case in most high schools. In the 
            late ’90s, a new administration decided that behavioral issues 
            warranted attention beyond what the school’s assistant principal, 
            charged with planning the school’s academic program, could 
            reasonably afford. So the school appointed four deans of students to 
            lead the design and implementation of the school’s discipline 
            policies—to “set the tone,” in Johnston’s words, on how to create 
            and maintain order at Quincy High.

            Now in his 13th year at Quincy (he’s also a proud member of Quincy 
            High’s Class of ’83), Johnston thrives on his interaction with 
            students and the collaboration with the many players involved in 
            their lives—the school resources officer, nurse, parole officers, 
            social services, and, of course, the parents.

            “Steven knows that his job is to help create a stable learning 
            environment,” explains Quincy Principal Frank Santoro. “But he knows 
            that this requires him to work with these students and their 
            families and be their advocate.”

            Teachers who trade in their classroom keys for a more administrative 
            role are unusual, but discipline-focused deans can be found at 
            schools across the country. Mark Karadimos followed a similar path 
            at J. Sterling Morton East High School, just outside of Chicago. 
            With a student population topping 3,200, Morton East High couldn’t 
            manage its behavioral issues without four full-time deans. A former 
            math teacher, Karadimos strives to help students find the connection 
            between their behavior and their chances for success.

            “In a classroom, students often just feel the rigor, but don’t see 
            the relevance,” he says. “My job as dean ultimately is to help 
            students understand that we want to help them to do well in life.”

            “Lahn Duong is here?” Johnston shouts in mock-surprise to his 
            secretary, Ruthie. “Are you out there, Lahn Duong? Come on in!”

            It’s a little before 9 a.m. The young Vietnamese student appears in 
            Johnston’s doorway, looking sleepy-eyed, disheveled, and a little 
            sheepish. 

            “How are you, my friend?”

            “I’m late,” he responds quietly. His English is slow but functional.

            “Listen—I’m worried,” Johnston says, turning serious. “You’re not 
            doing well in math, and that’s your first period. How are you going 
            to pass math if you are always late?”

            The student shrugs. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

            “Me, too!”

            Most of the city’s Asian community, which makes up 15 percent of 
            Quincy’s overall population, lives in North Quincy. The absence of 
            an English-language learner (ELL) program at North Quincy High, 
            however, means a longer trip across town for Lahn Duong and many of 
            the 300 other ELL students enrolled at Quincy High. Johnston, while 
            aware that the commute can be a burden, tells Lahn Duong he will 
            simply have to wake up earlier. Still, he plans to work with others 
            in the school to juggle his schedule and move math to second or 
            third period.

            “He can’t be tardy, but I can’t have him failing math, either,” he 
            says.

            Johnston makes it a point to know each student’s academic history 
            and any relevant details about the teen’s life outside of school. He 
            began cultivating a rapport with students during his years as a 
            special education teacher. Johnston moved into his current position 
            so he could work with a more expansive student population. As dean, 
            he weaves together strands of proactive and positive discipline 
            techniques. Although he avoids a one-size-fits-all approach, he does 
            subscribe to certain doctrines: treat each case individually, foster 
            collaboration and communication, win the trust of the students, and 
            adapt to changes in the community. And he won’t let any student 
            leave his office without hearing words of encouragement.

            Johnston’s relationship with the students is aided by how Quincy 
            High divides the student population among its four deans. Each is 
            assigned one of the four classes. Johnston is the dean for the class 
            of 2008, so he has been working with the same kids for three years. 
            That’s important, he says, because misbehavior-prone students are 
            much easier to steer toward a more constructive path early on in 
            their high school career.

            His classroom experience also makes him particularly sensitive to 
            one of the many challenging elements of his work: balancing the 
            needs of the student in his office with the overburdened teacher’s 
            need for a stable classroom. Clear communication is key. Johnston 
            asks the teacher to be as specific as possible in the referral note. 
            To merely write “Johnny is misbehaving” doesn’t provide Johnston and 
            his colleagues sufficient information.

            “If they want me to keep the student out of their classroom, that 
            needs to be clearly stated in the note. I’ll do that,” he says. “If 
            not, I’ll address the situation a different way and find solutions 
            that won’t keep the student out of class.”

            At Morton East High, Karadimos and the other deans urge teachers to 
            intervene before sending students to the dean’s office. Not making a 
            viable effort to address disruptions will communicate that the 
            teacher has lost control of the classroom, he says.

            Navigating through the school system’s intricate network of 
            personalities and territories can be tricky for a dean, a position 
            that bridges the gap between teachers and administration. Johnston 
            says there’s one indisputable intangible needed to perform the job 
            effectively.

            “Social skills. You either have ’em or you don’t,” he says. “Knowing 
            the governing laws of the school and state—great. Years and years of 
            formal study—terrific. But all that will be undermined if you don’t 
            know how to communicate properly with your colleagues and win the 
            respect and trust of a diverse student population.”

            Later in the afternoon, Toni, looking a little bewildered, sits 
            across from Johnston.

            “How did you know that, Mr. J?”

            A conflict between Toni and one of her classmates was exacerbated by 
            an impolite exchange posted on MySpace. The classmate confided in 
            Johnston that a problem with Toni was brewing and asked him to help. 
            Of course, he doesn’t tell her that.

            “I hear things in the air, Toni. Sometimes the walls talk to me. It 
            really doesn’t matter—you cannot let your differences with her 
            affect your schoolwork.”

            Before this exchange, the two had been discussing Toni’s grades. 
            “This is a key quarter for you, kid,” Johnston reminded her. These 
            words, still punctuating the air a few minutes later, seemed to 
            belittle the significance of an online spat.

            “You’re right,” Toni replies. “Thanks, Mr. J.”

            After Toni walks out the door, Johnston spins around in his chair. 
            “MySpace—arrrgh!” he laughs. “The online world is just multiplying 
            the social bridges for these kids—more openings for confrontation.”

            Johnston has considered trying something new—a couple of assistant 
            principal positions have opened up recently. “Poring over data 
            sheets or state student assessment scores? Maybe one day, but I’m 
            not there yet,” he says, “Right now, I need to work with these 
            kids.” 

            Send comments on this story to twalker@nea.org.