Uncommon Schools has Always Been an Authoritarian Regime

The CEO and the President of Uncommon Schools have written that they are “reflecting and reimagining the future” of their schools.

They write as if this is the first time that they are ever hearing that Uncommon Schools has a systemic, pervasive culture of fear and compliance. They write as if they are somehow surprised that nearly 600 of their former students and teachers are speaking out publicly against their abusive practices.

Their words are maddening.

They are the chief architects of the student culture and adult culture at Uncommon Schools. They have been building, maintaining, and overseeing this culture for almost 20 years.

Make no mistake about it, Uncommon Schools is an authoritarian organization from top to bottom. And dissent is dangerous for everyone — no matter your age and no matter your position.

As an Uncommon principal, I developed a reputation for being ‘unaligned to the mission’ of Uncommon Schools. And the iron fist that deals with ‘disobedient’ students and ‘difficult’ teachers is the same iron fist that deals with rebellious leaders.

The CEO and President of Schools have not only designed and maintained the culture of Uncommon Schools, they have also created a system that will step on, silence, and erase anyone who dares to step out of line or tarnish the Uncommon brand.

Below are two examples with legal documentation to illustrate that there is no room for deviation or critique, no matter the veracity, no matter if students and teachers are being harmed.

Example 1:

In August of 2015, I was leading a network-wide literacy session. I started the session with the Ted Talk How Good Leaders Make You Feel Safe. I asked teachers to reflect on the type of leader they wanted to be for their students. After teachers shared their takeaways, I started the session. When it was time to break for lunch, the Assistant Superintendent walked up to me and said in a bizarrely stern tone: “Follow me now.”

She led me to a back office where the President of Schools was waiting. The Assistant Superintendent closed the door, which had a piece of chart paper covering the glass windowpane. She then proceeded to yell at me, saying that I was no longer aligned to the core values of Uncommon Schools.

There were two teacher comments made in response to the Ted Talk that I should have “publicly corrected” in front of everyone in the session because they were not aligned to Uncommon’s core values. The comments:

· Teacher Comment 1: I want to prioritize student relationships on the first days of school. It’s okay if my routines aren’t perfect, so long as I have a moment with each student.

· Teacher Comment 2: Sometimes you get leader feedback, and in your gut, you know it’s not right. And you have to trust yourself that you know it’s not the right thing to do.

(It’s important to note that comment two was made by a teacher who worked at Excellence Boys. The Principal of Excellence Boys was later fired when a video surfaced of him mistreating a child.)

The Assistant Superintendent continued to yell, telling me that I was not aligned to the core values of Uncommon Schools because I valued relationships over systems and routines and teacher instincts over leader feedback. When she finished yelling, she told me three things:

1.) You will never lead Uncommon-wide PD again.

2.) You will go home as soon as this meeting is over.

3.) We will let you know over the weekend what will happen to your school.

When she told me I was dismissed, I walked home to my apartment. A few hours later, a small group of teachers from my school arrived unexpectedly at my apartment. One of them was the teacher who had made the comment about the importance of relationships in the first days of school. She was crying hysterically. She was crying so hard that she could not speak. The other teachers had to explain to me what happened. Below are their memories of that day.

…

I both remember the trauma well and attempt to block it out…

The Assistant Superintendent stepped to the front of the gym for an announcement:

“It has been brought to my attention that during one of our earlier elementary sessions, someone mentioned that building relationships with students is more important than systems and routines… If you don’t believe that routines and procedures are paramount, you don’t love or care about kids. Let me repeat that: If you don’t believe that routines and procedures are paramount, you don’t love or care about kids.”

While she repeated these words, she stared right at my friend, the teacher who had made the comment.

The gym fell silent. No one dared to speak.

I just shook. I sat shaking, recalling the exact moment earlier, when my friend had bravely shared what she believed to be true about the importance of the first days and building trust and relationships with students.

In truth, networks don’t promote building relationships with students because it requires authenticity where they would rather plug and play scenarios where they dictate everything that can and cannot happen… So naturally, this mindset, this belief in relationships had to come to a halt.

Does this woman practice this shit in the mirror before entering her stage?

The anger I suppressed in that 30 seconds probably took years from my life; it is fascinating how one moment can make you shrink to nothing and want to hide, while also boiling your insides to the point of dizziness and amnesia.

…

What I remember from that moment when they arrived at my apartment is wanting to protect them — to shield them somehow from the totalitarian machine of Uncommon Schools — to make it all go away for them. But I couldn’t. The teacher who had been publicly shamed kept saying, “Why would she do that to me? I’m young, I’m new in my teaching. Why would she do that to me in front of everyone?”

Four days later I received my first (but not last) formal disciplinary letter. The full letter is below — two pages taken straight from an authoritarian playbook.

Example 2:

As principal at Leadership Prep Canarsie, we built a different type of school. One that was loving, peaceful for students and teachers, and one that, above all else, maintained the dignity of children. Our scores were high, staff morale was high, parent satisfaction was high, but most importantly, kids loved school.

As a principal, I visited almost every Uncommon elementary school, and I observed a pervasive culture of obedience and fear that sometimes led to abuse: verbal, psychological, and physical. Adults squeezing kindergarteners’ hands because they were not folded tightly, adults publicly shaming children for the smallest transgressions, upper arms squeezed and yanked out of line for talking, children being carried out of classrooms for ‘defiance’.

I told my managers what I was seeing. I talked to people about what I was seeing. Nothing changed. As a final step, I began to write about what I was seeing.

On October 7, 2016, the CEO and COO of Uncommon Schools traveled to Canarsie to remove me as principal for preparing to write publicly. The CEO told me point blank, “Such a fundamental critique of Uncommon just cannot continue.”

I told the CEO and I quote: “I would be going against what I believe is right to not write it. I’ve watched a senior leader at Uncommon scream in one of my kindergartner's faces and make him wet his pants. I think that it’s been unfair to the dignity of children that we have not taken a bigger stance…And I don’t think that many of us would send our children to these schools because of discipline.”

The CEO didn’t ask for the name of the leader. He didn’t ask if the child was okay. But what he did tell me repeatedly was: “Incorporating any Uncommon Material into the book would be violating confidentiality.”

The COO didn’t ask for the name of the leader. She didn’t ask if the child was okay. She told me: “You will see in the terms that if you release details that disparage Uncommon, there could be repercussions.”

At the end of the meeting, the COO took my computer, my keys, and escorted me off the property.

After the meeting, I called LPC teachers and families to explain what had happened.

The director of HR (and Uncommon’s counsel) immediately began to email and call me, threatening legal action if I returned to the school or if I tried to resume any of my responsibilities as principal.

My mental health at that time deteriorated at a rapid rate. The pain and isolation of losing my students and colleagues was more than I could bear. I slipped into a major episode of depression, and I lived in a near constant state of fear and anxiety.

Uncommon was unhappy with the contact I maintained with students and teachers, and their lawyers scheduled an official arbitration with me.

As the date of the arbitration approached, my mental health continued to decline. The week of the arbitration I couldn’t sleep. I was awake for three consecutive days and nights and eventually slipped into a catatonic state, which landed me in NYU’s hospital for eight horrific days.

When I returned home, I was still deeply depressed, suffering with anxiety, and deathly afraid of Uncommon Schools. My partner reached out to Uncommon and explicitly asked them not to contact me for health reasons. He told them that they could contact him with any messages or updates.

Uncommon would not relent. The COO continued to email me using my personal email address, saying that Uncommon is “deeply concerned about your health and well-being” but that if I couldn’t schedule a meeting, then Uncommon would have to make decisions “without your participation.”

Those were the darkest days of my life.

And still Uncommon would not relent. When I responded that I was not well enough to meet, they began sending over nondisclosure agreements. Nondisclosure agreements that promised me $19,600 in exchange for never suing them and never speaking a negative word about Uncommon Schools “regardless of whether such statements are truthful.”

Below is the full nondisclosure act.

Because I did not sign, Uncommon would not give me my personal files from my work computer, including medical records, real estate contracts, divorce papers, and even emails that I had saved from my late grandmother.

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Make no mistake about it: Uncommon Schools is a well-oiled authoritarian machine. There is only one way: Uncommon’s way.

I wish that I was more hopeful about the possibility of change. But all the senior leaders have been there from the beginning. And when you have personally harmed children or built the systems to allow for the harm of children or turned a neglectful eye to the harm of children, you are responsible for that harm.

And when it comes to the protection and safety of children, I don’t believe in second chances.