By the fifth year of teaching at Cleveland’s Glenville High School in the early 1960s, however, I had learned one of the most important lessons a teacher can learn in an urban high school. I carried that precious knowledge with me to Cardozo and Roosevelt High Schools in Washington, D.C., and subsequent teaching I have done, including Los Altos and Menlo-Atherton High Schools in the San Francisco Bay area and, yes, also to Stanford University.
That lesson I did not learn from courses in my undergraduate teacher education program at the University of Pittsburgh in the 1950s. Nor did I learn that lesson as a student-teacher during my senior year of college. And my guess is that even in the initial years of my teaching career, I failed to learn this important lesson.
OK, what’s the lesson? Never ask permission to do something for your students, just ask for forgiveness afterwards.
For those teachers who reflect on their experiences in classrooms, they learn that they are gatekeepers to what enters and exits their rooms. While there is so much that teachers have no control over in teaching such as the students they have, the classroom they are assigned, the daily schedule they follow, events occurring inside and outside the school, and the school organization within which they teach–they do, however, have a crucial slim margin of precious autonomy once they close their classroom doors.
As gatekeepers to the classroom, teachers learn in fits and starts, by trial and error, that they determine what content/skills they teach, how they get taught what parts of the required textbook they can skip. They learn to convey attitudes and values about life and subject-matter within the confines of that 900 square-foot classroom. Although that freedom is constrained, this priceless autonomy can jump-start learning for both teacher and students.
And in learning how to teach and work with students and colleagues in these schools over decades, I also extracted a small measure of freedom outside of my classroom. And that is where my hard-earned organizational lesson of never asking permission to do something in your classroom but asking for forgiveness afterwards-–came into play. Here is one instance of that lesson, as I recall it.
For seven years at Glenville High School, I taught history to about 150 students for five classes a day. In those years, it became clear to me that I needed more than the textbooks and meager supplies that the school and district supplied me. Sure, I used the textbooks but I also created additional readings from other sources.
Thus, I needed reams of paper. Of equal importance, I needed a machine that would make copies of these readings for my students. I located paper and machines, sweet-talking my way into gathering them by bending school and district rules.
A case in point. At the end of one school year, I got access to other departments’ store rooms. In one of them, I found reams of unused paper and took some of those 500-sheet packages to a closet in my classroom. After school began in September, the principal called me into his office and showed me telephone messages and memos that he had received from district officials and teachers demanding an explanation for my “unprofessional behavior.”
My relationship with the principal was a warm, supportive one in which he judged me to be a hard-working young teacher who was part of a faculty cadre in the urban high school that helped many students get their diplomas and enter college. So he faced a dilemma in having to do something stern in responding to his superiors and other faculty without alienating an entrepreneurial teacher, given district office complaints about my “unprofessional behavior.”
I, too, faced a dilemma. In a scarcity economy which is what urban schools were then (and are now) insofar as supplies, teachers had to be enterprising without constantly opening their own wallets to buy things for their classes (which many did). I scrounged, begged, and borrowed to the hilt with colleagues and friends but it wasn’t enough. And yet I didn’t want to stop reproducing these readings to supplement the textbook because these historical readings drawn from primary sources seemed to be paying off in increased student attendance and class participation.
Yet my boss was upset. I had to mollify him since district officials and teachers were pestering him to do something to stop my “unprofessional behavior.” So after much thinking about how schools worked and what I had learned about authority structures in schools and districts, I apologized and asked the principal to forgive my indiscretion.
He reported to his superiors that I had apologized for my actions even promising not to repeat it. That ended the incident. But that lesson I never forgot: Never ask permission to do something for your students, just ask for forgiveness afterwards, I learned it from my seven years teaching at Glenville in Cleveland, and afterwards in Washington, D.C., where I taught four years at Cardozo High School with two more at Roosevelt High School.
Moreover, I remembered that lesson when I served as Arlington County’s (VA) Superintendent for seven years and, finally, from teaching and doing research as a university professor for two decades. I consider that lesson about being both entrepreneurial and a member of a team precious wisdom about how organizations operate and the people that staff them, think and act.
Sure you can tell such wisdom to novices taking teacher education courses in undergraduate or graduate courses but those newbies lack the organizational savvy to make sense of it. They lack the mindfulness drawn from pondering one’s experiences in a school and classroom over time. And I would guess that even Teach for America recruits don’t learn that lesson in their summer training or in the two years they spend as classroom teachers. It takes around five years, I believe, to acquire that organizational understanding and thoughtfulness about teaching in schools to grasp the full meaning of that lesson.
So, I suggest to those who wish to teach beyond a couple of years, “Never ask for permission to do something for your students, just ask for forgiveness afterwards.” That is the wisdom, seasoned by experience, in organizational dynamics that I learned as a young teacher.








