If one were to pick one word to describe Seattle Schools Superintendent John Stanford, that word might well be animated. He’s always on the run, constantly tossing out ideas and sending trial balloons aloft, seemingly performing more about faces than Michael Jackson. During a great battle between champions of accountability in public schools administrations and those who countered “just give us the money and get out of our way!” Stanford, in response to the charge that he ought to subject the Seattle School District to a performance audit, asked, in effect, “How can you audit a moving target?” Clever.
Shortly after Stanford parachuted into Seattle (or did he fly 1st class, like normal people?), he was quoted as saying “My goal is to visit each school at least four times a year so I can see for myself what is happening in the classrooms, on the playgrounds, and in the offices.” (The Seattle Times, Sept. 24, 1995) This was a welcome change from his predecessor, who I only saw in a school once (over a period of ten years).
Unfortunately, Stanford hasn’t been able to meet his goal. But rather than call him a promise breaker, he should simply be credited with not doing his homework (even if he did it a little late).
A little forethought (hindsight, in Stanford’s case) suggests that there wouldn’t be much point in visiting a school on a holiday, over a weekend, or during the summer, when no students are present. (What kind of photo-op would that make?) Subtracting the 185 days out of the year when Seattle’s public schools aren’t filled with the students who are the center of Stanford’s universe leaves 180 prime visiting days.
Multiplying Seattle’s 97 public schools times four (Stanford’s self-imposed, per-school visiting quota) = 388 visits. 388 visits ÷ 180 prime visiting days = 2.16 schools visited per day.
Now one could easily drive up to two schools, wave at the students, and smile for a camera within the space of an hour or two. If he used a helicopter — as when he made an airborne assault on Whittier Elementary School — Stanford might conceivably target every school in the district in one day. But one would hope that America’s most dynamic public schools superintendent would focus on meaningful visits, not the sort of cheap stunts one might perform in a vain attempt to get a mention in The Guinness Book of World Records. (Incidentally, this treasure trove of superlatives hasn’t yet listed Earth’s most arrogant public schools administrator.)
Assuming the average driving distance from the Pentagon (an affectionate, pre-Stanford teachers’ nickname for Seattle Public Schools headquarters) to a Seattle public school is 20 to 30 minutes, we’re looking at a round trip of 40 minutes to an hour. (I’m assuming Stanford’s car doesn’t encounter one of Seattle’s increasingly common traffic jams, or an over-sized pothole.) Add in another 10 minutes to journey from School A to School B (remember, we’re visiting two schools today!) and 10 minutes for getting in and out of the car and walking to and from schools and administrative headquarters, and you have a minimum of 1 hour travel time.
Stanford could cut down on his travel time if, after leaving a school, he got in his car, then got back out and visited the same school again. However, thanks to the media blitz that made John Stanford as popular as the Beatles were in the 1960s, there’s a good chance that someone in the school would recognize him and cry foul. Even if they didn’t recognize him as John Stanford, they might recognize him as “that guy who toured our school just two minutes ago.” One must also wonder whether The Guinness Book of World Records would recognize such a feat. Of course, Stanford could always try for a record as the man who visited the same school the most times over a certain period of time. But such a record could easily be broken by any of a continuing string of principals who flunk out of Seattle’s schools, only to be put in charge of their very own program in Seattle Public School District’s central bureaucracy.)
Once Stanford arrives at a school, he generally has a long chat with the CEO (principal, for readers who know nothing about corporate education models). I would guesstimate that an average CEO conference lasts half an hour, minimum (X 2 schools = one hour). Of course, that’s assuming the CEO is present. Dearborn Park’s seemed to spend half her time off-site, and I understand such rampant “absenteeism” is common among Seattle principals.
The highlight of a visit by John Stanford is the photo-op (judging by my experiences at Dearborn Park Elementary School). This may or may not include speeches, either by Stanford or by guest dignitaries. Allot 1/2 hour for this function (X 2 schools = 1 hour).
But running a school district involves more than conferences with CEOs and photo-ops. It’s important that Stanford study each of his mini-corporations inside and out before he leaves. This can’t be done with remote-controlled cameras (not yet anyway). Nor can Stanford accurately observe classrooms from a helicopter. (The holes in Seattle schools’ roofs are generally too small to see through.) Ironically, in a metropolitan area that lies in Bill Gates’ shadow, confronting education face-to-face can only be done the old-fashioned way — by walking from class to class.
During one of Stanford’s 1995-96 school year visits to Dearborn Park Elementary School, he spent, I would guess, no less than two minutes standing in each classroom, actually talking to real teachers. With ten classes, that adds up to 20 minutes — and we’re a small school. The average time Stanford spends studying education in action in an average-sized school is probably closer to 30 minutes (X 2 schools = 1 hour).
Remember, Stanford said he wanted to see “what is happening in the classrooms, on the playgrounds, and in the offices.”* So let’s add five minutes recess duty and five minutes in the office (X 2 schools = 20 minutes). And let’s tack on another ten minutes for checking out such esoterica as computer labs, libraries, gymnasiums, custodians, etc.
That yields 1 hour travel time, 1 hour for conferencing with CEOs, 1 hour for photo-ops, 1 hour for studying education in action, and 30 minutes recess/office duty/esoterica check = 4 hours, 30 minutes, or half a normal workday. Assuming Stanford begins his daily tour at 8 am and takes at least half an hour for a lunch break (as teachers do), he only has from 1:00 pm to whenever he goes home to his outlandish bathroom to take care of duties at administrative headquarters, participate in civic functions, wax his helicopter, etc.
But keep in mind that visiting two schools a day doesn’t cut the mustard; Stanford must visit 2.16 schools to meet his goal. Moreover, there are some days when he can’t visit any schools. Stanford’s schedule presumably includes occasional meetings and other functions that last virtually all day. For example, it’s doubtful that the General visits any Seattle schools during trips to Olympia and Washington, D.C. Moreover, Stanford implies that he spends a lot of time wandering around groveling for money (for education; he doesn’t moonlight as a street person). Assume, also, that Stanford occasionally gets sick, just like normal human beings.
And don’t forget, public education is fraught with surprises. I doubt that Stanford visited many schools about the times the principals of McClure and Meany Middle Schools were being forced out by the community.
Finally, I've heard that Stanford has actually been spending extra time in schools learning about the education process. Whether or not he’s getting a full dose of education in action by taking crap from an unsupportive principal, staying late for staff meetings, taking classes, and taking homework home with him I don’t know.
If we allow for out-of-Seattle travel days, sick days, extra-busy days, emergency days, and extra time in real classrooms, it seems reasonable that Stanford would have to visit at least three schools per day during each able-to-visit-schools day to meet his goal of visiting every school in America’s most reformed school district four times a year. Using the formulas above, he wouldn’t be back in his office until 2:55. Add in two 10-minute teacher’s breaks, and he’d be ready to tackle administrative duties at 3:15, five minutes after students in the District’s 97 franchises have left for home.*
But if one were able to accurately assess the extracurricular activities that John “Moving Target” Stanford participates in, I suspect he would actually have to visit four schools each able-to-visit-schools day. This means he wouldn’t return from his daily tour of duty until 4:50! Add in two 10-minute teacher’s breaks, and Stanford couldn’t begin making sure administrative staff answer phone calls by the third ring until 5:10, when most students are at least an hour into TV.
Stanford would essentially spend his entire Emerald City campaign zipping from school to school, waving hello and good-by, reintroducing himself to the same teachers he had met two or three times previously but whose names no one could possibly remember, and reminding students that he is not the president (yet). One must wonder if Stanford would even be able to keep up with his own abrupt policy changes and about faces. Obviously, Stanford’s school-visiting marathon isn’t practical. It may not even be feasible.
In summary, Stanford deserves the highest praise for offering — and perhaps attempting — to visit every school in Seattle School District at least four times a year. Teachers who saw Stanford just once last school year should be reminded that this is not a sign of failure so much as a revelation that Stanford’s original math was all screwed up. And math really isn’t important in a city of readers. As Stanford once said (as quoted in Forbes), “I make $175,000 a year, and so can you if you read, read, read.”
P.S. So far as I know, Stanford only visited Dearborn Park Elementary School once during the 1996-97 school year. It was sort of an honor for me, for Stanford came after he learned that I was writing an article about one of Seattle’s most talented, honored, and beloved educators, KumRoon Maksirisombat (alias Mr. Mak). In fact, it was sort of a double honor, for Mr. Mak — who speaks more languages than John Stanford and every member of the Seattle School Board combined — is an employee of Seattle School District, which, under Stanford’s steady hand, is rapidly evolving into a system of world class schools!
I was shocked to learn that Stanford hadn’t come to thank me! Ironically, it seems he didn’t want me to write about Mr. Mak, whose six-year quest for a principalship has, for some strange reason, been about as productive as a fact-finding mission in Seattle School District headquarters. Go figure.
I hope Stanford didn’t think me rude for ignoring him as he knelt on the floor in Dearborn Park’s computer lab — checking me out while pretending to be interested in the computers and the children — but I was attending to several students. When Dearborn Park’s CEO (who just happened to be in the building that day) asked me if I had ever met Stanford (I had), the General looked at me and said, “We must talk about your article sometime.” I looked at him, and he grimaced; I wasn’t sure if he was trying to show his displeasure or if he was trying to frighten me. In fact, I was embarrassed, for he looked perfectly stupid.
If I hadn’t been surrounded by students, I might have slapped myself. One minute I expected Stanford to pin a medal on my chest, and the next minute I had embarrassed Earth’s greatest public schools superintendent and change agent!
Stanford briskly exited Dearborn Park’s Computer Lab, leaving me crestfallen. And also a bit puzzled. If my article displeased Stanford, why didn’t he pick up a telephone and call me, like a normal human being, rather than stage a phony tour?
Suddenly, I perceived the man’s genius: he had put me in my place and edged just a tad closer to his goal of making four visits to Dearborn Park — where an ambassador of Forbes had photographed him the preceding summer!
After he left, the principal — er, CEO (Evelyn Fairchild, who was actually in the building that day) — reminded me that Stanford wanted to talk to me, and that I must not display any disloyalty. She mentioned a principal who had declared his allegiance to the site-council, which represents the community. Stanford put him in his place.
Unfortunately, I was too busy teaching the children who are the center of my universe to discuss adultissues with John Stanford. Moreover, I had already adopted John Stanford’s policy of not discussing personnel issues — with anyone. Catch-22.
As a gesture of atonement, I planned on felling a tree in Dearborn Park’s forest and carving a graven image in Stanford’s likeness so that staff and students could worship him on their knees thrice a school day. I was going to do it at the beginning of the 1997-1996 school year, but I sort of lost my job at Dearborn. Go figure.
P.P.S. Oh yeah, that article I was writing about Mr. Mak was supposed to appear in Asian Focus, which, according to the editor, Michael Park, would be out on the Friday following Stanford’s untimely visit. When I got off work on Friday and went looking for a copy, none were to be found. I called Mr. Park, who was working late that night. He said it wouldn’t be printed until Monday. And my article wouldn’t be in it. Go figure.
The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism - 
