Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.
Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

"All" Means All - It Really is that Simple

The school administrator was visibly frustrated.

“I’m afraid our school board may not adopt the Model Code of Ethics for Educators because of the second half of a singular sentence,” he said during a recent workshop on educator ethics. “They would fully embrace the MCEE if Standard III.B.2 ended after the clause, ‘Respecting the dignity, worth and uniqueness of each individual student’. But it doesn’t,” he said.

Sadly, he may very well be right. The phrase “each individual student” is certainly conventional – an expected clause within any schooling document. After all, it reinforces the democratic ideal that an equal and equitable education is available to all students.

Until, of course, it is not.

And that is why it is so important for Standard III.B.2 to be read in its entirety – it explicitly identifies unique student characteristics which, in some cases, have resulted in marginalization:

Respecting the dignity, worth and uniqueness of each individual student including, but not limited to, actual and perceived gender, gender expression, gender identity, sexual orientation, civil status, family status, religion, age, disability, race, ethnicity, socioeconomic context and culture (MCEE III.B.2).

Unequivocally and with a moral clarity, Standard III.B.2 provides a not-so-gentle reminder that “each individual student” means all students.

For some, that may be a bridge too far.

Imposing personal values and beliefs into our work – at the expense of professional norms – is dangerous territory. This becomes especially troublesome when the “dignity, worth, and uniqueness of each individual student” becomes politicized.

And that’s precisely why professional norms, such as the Model Code of Ethics for Educators, are so important.

The Model Code of Ethics for Educators utilizes the word “students” 33 times without any delineation – meaning every single individual student. The Code then specifically utilizes the phrase “all students” five times to be perfectly clear on issues where there should be no ambiguity:

• Equitable educational opportunities for all students (II.A.3),
• Acts in the best interest of all students (II.C.),
• Respects the rights and dignity of all students (III.A),
• Promotes the emotional, intellectual, physical and sexual safety of all students (III.B.3), and
• Advocating for equal access to technology for all students (V.D.1).

And then, of course, the MCEE goes one step further in Standard III.B.2 – ensuring there is absolutely no question or equivocation that “all” does indeed mean all.          

Among professional educators, there should be no debate about our ethical duty to every student in our school community. Precedent-setting court cases and legislative action have clarified, and continue to clarify, the notion that “all students” means all students: 

• Gender Expression and Identity? Consider brushing up on Whitaker v. Kenosha (2017), Glouster v. Grimm (2018), Bostock v. Clayton County (2020) and the expansion of Title IX (2014) to include gender expression and Identity.

• Students with Disabilities? Google the Education for All Handicapped Children Act (1975) and the subsequent laws that are part of the authorization of the Individuals with Disabilities Act (IDEA).

• Children of Immigrants? Take some time and read Plyler v. Doe (1982). The Supreme Court declared that all young people, regardless of documentation status, have a right to public education.

• Gender? Don’t forget the oft-discussed Title IX (1972) which protects students from gender discrimination.

• Race, Ethnicity and Socioeconomic Considerations? Trace the judicial activity stemming from the 1954 landmark decision in Brown v. Board of Education.

• Equal Protection? Let’s not forget the Equal Protection Clause of the 14^th Amendment (1868) guaranteeing equal protection under the law – which of course, includes students.

And there are so many more.

If judicial and legislative activity has settled the issue – that “all” does indeed mean all – then why does the Model Code of Ethics for Educators repeatedly emphasize the importance of the “all”?

Societal acceptance of the concepts of full inclusion and equitable treatment has been, and continues to be, a protracted struggle – often unfolding in a public and agitated manner.

Just ask the school administrator from the educator ethics workshop who clearly understood the political realities triggered by the specificity of language contained within Standard III.B.2 of the education profession’s code of ethics.

Recently, I read an article which illustrates the importance of extending unconditional professional care to all students and their families:

When district superintendent Janice Adams was approached by a mother asking for support for her kindergarten child who was born male but had identified as a girl, Adams wrote: “… while I hadn’t dealt with a situation like this before, I believed every child had the right to feel safe, welcomed and valued, and I would work with the family to make sure we supported her child. I never had a political agenda; my agenda was to support our students. I worked to be an advocate, not an activist. If your experience is anything like my own, you will be in unfamiliar — perhaps even uncomfortable — territory. It is important, however, that your own personal uncertainties do not interfere with your ability to do the right thing to protect the safety and well-being of these vulnerable children.”[1]

Superintendent Adams’ narrative directly echoes the words encapsulated in the previously mentioned MCEE standards.[2] But just as importantly, she didn’t hesitate to do the “right thing” – unflinching in her care – irrespective of the situation and the uniqueness of students.

Our role as professional educators – regardless of the political realities and personal uncertainties – requires us to remain steadfast to the calling that propels our life’s work.  While decisions about the adoption of the Model Code of Ethics for Educators are often made at levels where politics is a factor, educators have an ethical obligation to all students irrespective of the Code’s formal adoption. The MCEE does not create ethical duties for educators – instead, it organizes and ratifies ethical standards that are innate to the teaching profession.

For the sake of all students.

[1] Orr A, Baum J, Brown J, et al.: Schools in transition: A guide for supporting transgender students in K-12 schools. National Center for Lesbian Rights, Gender Spectrum, HRC Foundation, the American Civil Liberties Union, and the National Education Association, 2015.

[2] MCEE Standards II.A.3, II.C., III.A., III.B.2, III.B.3

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.
Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

Private and Public: Honoring the Norms of a Chosen Profession

The battle had been brewing for quite some time – but it took a Supreme Court case in 1925 to settle the matter.

State laws requiring students to attend ONLY public schools were being drafted in the early 20^th Century – primarily due to fears associated with an influx of European immigrants. Public schools were expected to socialize students into a national culture, and private parochial schools were viewed by many as an obstacle to successful acculturation.

One such state law, Oregon’s Compulsory Education Act was passed in 1922 – essentially shutting down all private schools in that state. But the United States Supreme Court unanimously upheld a federal district court’s decision to overturn the Oregon law in the case of Pierce v. Society of Sisters – ensuring private schools (religious and nonsectarian) have a place in American education.^_[1]

And nearly 100 years later – according to the National Center for Education Statistics – there are close to 35,000 private schools employing over 509,000 teachers in the United States.^[2]

And while there will always be ‘public v. private school’ debates among impassioned proponents, the heartbeat of all schooling systems remains the same – caring and committed educators working diligently to provide the very best educational experience for students and their families.

I recently had the privilege of facilitating an all-day professional ethics workshop with the faculty, staff and administration of a large faith-based private PK-12 school. We grappled with the challenges and ethical landmines inherent to the education profession and utilized the Model Code of Ethics for Educators to frame our work – all while sitting in a beautiful chapel complete with pews, a pulpit and stained-glass windows!

And most assuredly, the conversations surrounding professional ethics were just as relevant and impactful in that setting as they have been in district auditoriums filled with public school educators.

While it’s true the complexities encountered by practitioners within differing educational structures might have a slightly different flavor, the ethical challenges and competing tensions are remarkably similar.

And that’s where the utility of the MCEE really shines. The axioms framed within our profession’s code of ethics should resonate with all educators regardless of setting. Quite simply, the Code allows for nuance and context while informing a standard of practice based on common professional values.

Professional ethics goes well beyond institutional and ideological differences – allowing educators to practice their craft within school structures of their choosing, while simultaneously honoring the norms of their chosen profession.

[1] Pierce v. Society of Sisters, 268 U.S. 510 (1925)

[2] National Center for Education Statistics. Retrieved on March 24, 2022. https://nces.ed.gov/fastfacts/display.asp?id=28#:~:text=Response%3A,and%20509%2C200%20private%20school%20teachers

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.
Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Regardless of Role

Let’s be perfectly honest. 

It’s not very often all school district employees – classified and certified –  are provided the opportunity to join together as colleagues for a day of professional learning.

Yet, that is precisely what happened.

Every person employed by the district – without regard to position, level of education, certification or salary – participated in a recent workshop on professional ethics and the Model Code of Ethics for Educators.

Teachers and administrators were present, but so were bus drivers, food service workers, custodians, maintenance workers, school receptionists, instructional aides and office personnel. The entire district hit the pause button to participate in conversations regarding professional vulnerabilities and risks. The District Superintendent was candid in his approach: “We are educators. We are all educators.”

Does our profession’s code of ethics speak to the everyday realities of attending to the physical needs of a school’s building? Or serving lunch to middle school students? Or transporting high school athletes to a competition? Would the conversations be authentic? And what about perceived barriers that may exist between roles and hierarchical structures? Just as importantly, does the topic of professional ethics have the potential to be a ‘tie that binds’? Those were some of the questions I asked myself prior to facilitating the workshop.

But it didn’t take long to discover that remarkable similarities exist across uniquely dissimilar roles.

Custodians, as well as field trip chaperones and coaches, become holders of privileged information simply by being surrounded by students outside of structured environments. Bus drivers and teachers supervise minors while simultaneously juggling myriad high-stakes responsibilities. Food service personnel and instructional assistants often interact with students informally and holistically. School receptionists, office staff and school administrators publicly represent the school’s mission amid numerous high stress competing tensions. And in a small community, where multiple relationships exist organically, there are added layers of challenge for every single employee.

Such issues engender a range of ethical considerations – regardless of role. The collective conversations on that day were rich and meaningful, and the Model Code of Ethics for Educators became a catalyst in clarifying professional responsibilities.

And that’s just the beginning.

I couldn’t help but think about the language embedded within Standard IV.B.1 of the Model Code of Ethics for Educators: “Respecting colleagues as fellow professionals and maintaining civility …” By placing the emphasis on professional alliance, Standard IV.B.1 gives priority to shared practitioner norms as opposed to focusing on differing individual or role-specific values. This distinction underscores the responsibilities which unite all schooling employees.

It is important to note the phrase respecting as fellow professionals is paired with the phrase maintaining civility. The word “civility” is derived from the Latin word ‘civis’ which means ‘citizen.’[1] Quite literally, civility applies to one who fulfills the duty of a citizen – and as employees within the schooling community, our citizenship is rooted in shared professional norms, values and responsibilities.

But there is another aspect to professional citizenship.

It was abundantly clear the workshop participants – whether they were classroom teachers, school counselors, bus drivers, district administrators or custodians – cared deeply about the local community. The ethos of professional ethics goes well beyond merely adhering to established professional norms when making decisions. It also entails a higher threshold of responsibility – our professional commitment to the welfare and betterment of the community in which we live.

All too often we attach the label ‘educator’ only to individuals who hold licenses – or at the very least work directly with students. Certainly, there may be times when such distinctions have merit.

But thanks to a thoughtful District Superintendent, we all learned a simple but illuminating truth during that workshop. Professional ethics has the potential to cultivate agency by providing all employees the opportunity to collectively shoulder the complexities inherent to the schooling community – a shared citizenship regardless of role.

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Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

Ethos and Ethics: Giving Voice During Turbulent Times

This past year I had the opportunity to listen to a most astonishing speaker – Ruby Bridges.

You may remember her – or at the very least you’ve seen the iconic Normal Rockwell painting that depicts the six-year-old girl being escorted to school by four federal marshals in 1960, when she became the first African American student to integrate a school in Louisiana.

In the conference keynote address, Ruby discussed not only her personal experiences, but also the courage of her first-grade teacher who endured death threats, property damage and even professional intimidation during the turbulent era of school integration.

And when asked about her greatest concern for educators today, her reply centered on a concept that should be at the very core of our profession – teaching truth. “We shouldn’t change history. When we leave out part of history, we leave out the truth. We are lying. Teach the truth. The truth will set us free.”

Her words resonated within the context of a very stark reality.

This past year, initiatives that have been central to the mission of public schooling for decades – equity, equality, diversity, anti-bias, anti-discrimination and the deconstruction of barriers to thinking critically – became politicized and came under attack in numerous communities throughout the country.

As a result, school board members, administrators and teachers face escalating hostility for supporting district equity statements and promoting well-established diversity initiatives.

How bad is it? According to an article published last week in EducationWeek^[1], lawmakers in 28 states have introduced or have passed legislation limiting, or even prohibiting, how teachers approach topics dealing with racism, equality, or sexism. And the proposed penalties are often extreme. A quick Google search reveals that writings which have long been part of the curriculum – including those by Martin Luther King, Tony Morrison, Frederick Douglas, Harper Lee, Maya Angelou and yes, even Ruby Bridges – have been targeted for removal from many school libraries and classrooms.

And what does any of this have to do with educator ethics?

Everything.

Codes of ethics articulate the very ethos of a profession – those deeply held beliefs that define a profession’s character and identity. They clearly and publicly state a profession’s non-negotiable values when acting in the public’s best interest.

And there are times when a code’s utility goes well beyond informing the decisions of individual educators. During turbulent times such as these, it can and should serve as a collective voice for the profession as a whole.

The Model Code of Ethics for Educators is no different. It has multiple standards referencing the very professional educator norms which are now being questioned – commitment to equity, equality, diversity and anti-discrimination – leaving little doubt as to their importance in the profession’s lexicon.

In addition, educational organizations have crafted position statements affirming the centrality of those values to our profession’s ethos. Consider the following statements from organizations whose members are currently facing some of the greatest scrutiny:

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

The Emerging Playbook: Reexamining Professional Obligations in a Virtual Classroom

Part V – Ignorance of Technology is no Excuse

Since technological competence is routinely articulated in many of our professional standards, it would be understandable to question its relationship to professional ethics. After all, today's technology is intuitive, right? We don’t even need instruction manuals for our new computing devices.

But on a most basic level, professional ethics often asks a simple question – what could possibly go wrong?

The fallout from a technological gaffe was on full display this past month in a California community. An entire school board resigned after members of the board criticized and mocked parents in a virtual Zoom meeting not realizing their conversation was being live-streamed to the public .[i]

We all know the pace of technological innovation in education is accelerating at a seemingly staggering pace — but how often do we consider the issues likely to emerge around user naiveté, carelessness or even incompetence?

When I started teaching nearly 40 years ago, tech-competence consisted of successfully operating the most advanced pedagogical tools of the day – mimeograph machines, tape recorders, record players, overhead projectors, and what I found most difficult to master, 16-millimeter film projectors.

Missteps in utilizing yesterday’s technological tools may have resulted in a few minutes of lost instructional time, or at worst, a botched lesson plan. But rarely would they damage an educator’s career, put students at risk or erode trust in our profession. Clearly, the stakes are much higher in the contemporary schooling environment.

In Part V of our blog series focusing on ethical issues related to the virtual classroom, I asked cyber expert Frederick Lane[ii] to offer his thoughts on the risks and implications of technological ignorance.

Ignorance of Technology Is No Excuse

Frederick Lane

Schools and educators stand in loco parentis to their students and, accordingly, have an unequivocal duty to minimize the risk of various types of harm that children might suffer in school. Until recently, this duty has been more pressing for some educators than others: I look back on my high school shop classes with mild disbelief that I didn’t lose a finger to a band saw, lawnmower, or welding torch. My English and Latin classes were much less immediately threatening.

But the incredibly rapid adoption of technology has expanded the duty of care for educators and school districts. Not every classroom has a table saw, but virtually all have Internet-capable devices or wireless access for personal connectivity. Even a casual reader of the news is aware that the damage that electronic devices can inflict may be as severe—if not worse—than a mishap with shop tools.

Teachers who regularly use woodworking tools, chemistry equipment, or other potentially injurious equipment don’t do so, of course, without adequate training. But virtually all teachers are expected to incorporate or supervise the use of Internet-enabled technology into their classrooms. Unfortunately, the training teachers receive on any given piece of technology typically ranges from cursory to incomplete.

Every educator has an individual ethical obligation to ensure that their use of technology furthers their “ethic of care” regarding student health and safety. That imposes a duty on each educator to understand the technology they use in the class and the potential risks that can stem from its use. At the same time, school districts and administrators should aid teachers and staff in better understanding how classroom technology can be used or abused.

As Cicero might have put it, ignorantia technology operator non excusat.

 

There is a line in Fred’s commentary that warrants highlighting – “The incredibly rapid adoption of technology has expanded the duty of care for educators and school districts.”

Quite simply, duty of care refers to the practitioner's obligation to avoid acts which could foreseeably cause harm – to students, our own careers, our schools and our profession. Or as Fred so eloquently states, “… a duty on each educator to understand the technology they use in the class and the potential risks that can stem from its use.”

Practitioner competence in all areas – including technology – defines the context by which society enters a trusting relationship with the education profession.

After all, we act in the public’s interest in everything we do.

No excuses. Period.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

The Emerging Playbook: Reexamining Professional Obligations in a Virtual Classroom

Part IV – Protecting Teacher Privacy and Expression

Today’s classrooms do more than house neat rows of desks facing a blackboard. They are sensory rich environments that affirm and inspire while developing a safe and inclusive space – posters, quotations, artwork, banners, and meaningful objects all create a learning and living aesthetic for students and educators alike.

And just as importantly, classroom décor exhibits and champions certain values.

By simply creating and curating the classroom space, teachers become the arbiters of those values and how they are messaged. And this is rarely an issue – after all, embracing the rich diversity that is brought into the building by all schooling participants, including educators, is a good thing.

But what happens when the classroom is reduced to an isolated space on Zoom – when a singular poster now becomes the ever-present backdrop during remote classroom instruction? Or when teachers are relegated to utilizing their personal living spaces as virtual classrooms – livestreaming lessons from the sanctity of their homes when visible expressions of personal values such as religious symbols, controversial books or political posters are the backdrop to instruction?

The virtual classroom creates a visual tunneling – opening the door for accusations that educators may be pushing personal agendas or even indoctrinating children with religious, social or political ideologies.

Consider the Ohio math teacher who recently faced a barrage of public criticism when posters addressing social issues were visible in her remote classroom, or the Texas teacher who was briefly suspended because she personalized her virtual background with several posters – one advocating for inclusivity and another drawing attention to systemic racism.

In Part IV of our blog series focusing on ethical issues related to the virtual classroom, cyber expert Frederick Lane^[i] offers thoughts on risks related to the intersection of teacher privacy and personal expression.

Don’t Zoom So Close to Me: The Ethics of Educator Privacy in a Pandemic

Frederick Lane

 

Even under the best of circumstances, maintaining a reasonable amount of personal privacy has been challenging for educators. Not only is the job of teaching intrinsically public, but it also necessarily involves extensive interaction with impressionable children. No one should be particularly surprised that school boards, administrators, and parents have a keen interest in the deportment and conduct of the person at the head of the classroom.

The Model Code of Ethics for Educators acknowledges the profession’s expectations and makes clear that educators need to “establish and maintain appropriate … boundaries” (Principle III). It used to be more straightforward for educators to “keep personal and professional lives distinct” (V.A.7). In the privacy of one’s home, it is reasonable to assume that one’s lifestyle choices are free from public scrutiny and, therefore, cannot damage one’s professional standing.

We have learned over the last fifteen years or so, of course, that what happens behind closed doors does not necessarily stay behind closed doors. Thanks to the increasingly toxic combination of personal computers, social media networks, and mobile devices, all of us can share our personal lives with the world. When we do so, we implicitly invite the world to judge our behavior.

And then a global pandemic arrived. With thousands of school districts requiring virtual or hybrid remote learning, educators have no choice but to invite students into a corner of their home. Unavoidably, this further blurs the distinction between an educator’s public role and personal space.

By virtually breaching the walls of an educator’s home, remote teaching raises the possibility that educators will accidentally disclose information that they would rather keep private. And unfortunately, the fact that students have a regular window into their teachers’ personal space all too often means that parents are privy to it as well.

Teachers have both a personal interest and an ethical obligation to minimize the scope of the virtual invasion. The two most important steps are to create an appropriate professional background for virtual teaching sessions and dress accordingly. Flip your camera to view your space as others see it, or better yet, do a Zoom call with a friend you can trust to critique what people see behind you.

If possible, remind the other occupants of your house that you are teaching and that their behavior reflects on you. Try to keep distractions and extraneous noises to a minimum. Perhaps most importantly, always assume that your camera is on and act accordingly.

There’s one final point worth considering. When circumstances are forcing educators to share part of their home with students (and their parents), perhaps it might make sense to be more aggressive about protecting your privacy in other areas. It might be a good time to think about how you use social media and the amount of personal information you share with the world.

As Fred pointed out, it was not that long ago that a few basic guidelines went a long way in preventing the blurring of one’s professional and personal expressions.

But remote learning is prompting a reexamination of how to best meet our professional obligations during the virtual classroom era. One example that I have recently discovered is that some districts are now providing teachers and students a common virtual background to use during Zoom sessions – an excellent idea!

If your educational jurisdiction or educator preparation program has created resources or guidelines to protect teachers during the virtual learning era, we invite you to share them with the readers of Ethics and Educators by using the comment boxes below.

In our next blog, and the final in the series The Emerging Playbook: Reexamining Professional Obligations in a Virtual Classroom, Fred and I will be discussing the ethics of technological competence in light of our growing reliance on remote learning tools.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

The Emerging Playbook: Reexamining Professional Obligations in a Virtual Classroom

Part III – Student Privacy

This past week my local National Public Radio (NPR) affiliate aired an excellent story about a topic that raised within me several interesting ethical considerations. As the title of the news report suggests, Virtual School Lets Teachers See Directly into their Students’ Lives,[i] there is an assumption that direct access into the personal space and living arrangements of students is a good thing.

And while the Model Code of Ethics for Educators does prompt us to “seek to understand students’ personal and social needs … ” (MCEE III.B.1), I found myself pondering the professional ethicality of peering into places and situations that previously would have been viewed as explicitly off-limits.

Think about it – in the webcam classroom, our students’ personal lives are on display without context, explanation, and in many cases, consent.

Whenever I have questions related to the intersection of schooling and virtual technology, I turn to my friend and colleague Frederick Lane.[ii] In Part III of our five-part series on emerging ethical issues related to online learning, Fred discusses specific considerations for educators as they navigate issues related to student privacy.

Preserving Student Privacy in the Era of Virtual Learning

Frederick Lane

 

Imagine, if you can, the uproar that would occur if parents learned that a teacher was wandering around town and peering into kitchen, living room, and bedroom windows. Such a discovery would justifiably be front-page news, and the voyeuristic educator undoubtedly would be promptly fired.

 

Even in the pre-COVID world, of course, teachers naturally learned bits and pieces of personal information about their students. But generally, students set those limits. Teachers need to be mindful that, like the rest of us, students now have less control over their personal information than before. When the little red light on the webcam starts glowing, students open a window into their home and their home life to a couple of dozen or more relative strangers. That may not be a comfortable prospect for some kids, which intensifies the ethical obligations that teachers owe to their students, their school community, and their profession.

 

The most critical ethical obligation is to avoid misusing any information you glean from forced glimpses into your students’ home life. Even relatively innocuous comments can be inappropriate and upsetting: critiquing decorations, for instance, or remarking on how other family members dress or behave. (I’ve written about the mandatory reporting dilemma earlier, which is obviously a different kettle of fish.)

 

But a teacher’s ethical obligations to students go beyond direct interactions. Few of us have any illusions about the prevalence of both bullying and cyberbullying among K-12 students. It is a significant problem and one that educators have an ethical duty to combat. Bullying thrives on perceived differences – class, economic standing, family values, lifestyles – and every remote class session is an opportunity for emotional thugs to gather more information.

 

One aspect is educating children about the implications of our more transparent society, including the evolving social rules for how we interact with each other. Another is helping parents understand the need for comfortable remote learning spaces in the home and encouraging schools and school districts to provide resources where necessary.

 

Our response to the pandemic is reshaping the meaning of “privacy.” Even as educators grapple with the changes in their own lives, they have an ongoing ethical obligation to help minimize the impact of our brave new world on the children they teach.

Fred raises a point that I had not previously considered – students’ right to control the disclosure of personal information. While the aforementioned news report focuses on the professional benefits of accessing students’ personal environments, Fred’s commentary emphasizes the possible consequences to students when they (and their parents) are not able to set limits related to disclosure of personal information.

Virtual learning continues to unveil new ethical challenges – and perhaps the greatest challenge is related to protecting student welfare in a learning environment with diminished privacy. The Model Code of Ethics for Educators provides standards that define our ethical responsibilities regarding student privacy. By turning those standards into questions, we can develop mechanisms to inform actions that are not only aligned to professional norms, but we are actively promoting the safety of all students. Here are a few examples:

• Given the realities of virtual learning, how do we best respect the privacy of students and the need to hold in confidence information obtained in the course of professional practice? (III.C.1)
• How can we keep personal and professional lives separate and distinct? (MCEE V.A.7)
• What protocols do we have in place to monitor and report cyber bullying incidents and their impact on the learning environment? (MCEE V.B.3)
• What measures are appropriate and reasonable to maintain confidentiality of student information? (MCEE V.C.1)
• How can we ensure the rights of third parties, including the right of privacy, are not violated via the use of technologies? (MCEE V.C.3)

But just as importantly as asking the right questions, we are also tasked with reconciling distinctly different ethical responsibilities based on situational variance – in this case, ensuring student privacy while seeking to understand the context of our students’ lives.    

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

The Emerging Playbook: Reexamining Professional Obligations in a Virtual Classroom 

Part II - The Slippery Slope

As districts contend with the daily challenges associated with virtual learning, they must also consider the ethics of increased teacher and student cyber interactions. This raises an interesting question – will the number of reported cases of educator misconduct either rise or decline in this new era of instruction? There is certainly an argument that can be made for either side.

On one hand, it makes sense that limited face-to-face interactions between educators and students may lead to fewer misconduct cases. However, interactions between educators and students that occur outside the traditional boundaries associated with the physical classroom do pose unique risks.

In Part II of our five-part series on emerging ethical issues, author and attorney Frederick Lane[i] discusses specific cautions for educators as they navigate this new educational terrain.

Remote Learning: The Slippery Slope Gets Steeper

Frederick Lane

 

The coronavirus pandemic is rapidly reshaping K-12 education in the United States and around the world. Even in the hopeful event that scientists develop a vaccine in the not-too-distant future, the pandemic will permanently alter how we teach our children. In one form or another, remote learning is here to stay.

Not long after I first met my friend and colleague Troy Hutchings, I heard him use the phrase “the slippery slope” to describe an educator’s potentially rapid descent from the heights of principled professionalism to the depths of unethical teacher-student interaction. One of the things that became clear as I worked in this area as well is that technology steepens the slope and often accelerates an educator’s luge run straight out the teaching profession.

Before texting, for instance, it might take weeks or months for a teacher to cross a career-ending boundary; in many of the cases I’ve researched, however, teachers have glided across multiple professional borders in a single evening. Digital communication is inherently intimate, the speed of the communication intensifies the emotional impact of late-night conversations, and people who wish to talk privately with each other have an almost endless number of options for doing so.

In an ideal world, teachers and students would reduce their use of digital technologies to communicate. The slippery slope is always there, just a button click away. But unfortunately, the exigencies of our public health crisis require much greater use of digital communication technology than ever before.

In theory, the increased use of remote learning should not increase the risk of educator misconduct. Online classes, after all, are group exercises that offer one of the key measures for reducing the risk of misconduct: transparency. Every student logged into the online class, and every parent or sibling who might be hovering nearby can see and hear the teacher, and observe his or her interactions with the class. It is difficult to imagine a teacher trying to engage in inappropriate conversations under those circumstances.

But two specific concerns heighten the risk of misconduct. The first is that online classes have the potential to reveal more of a student’s personal life than he or she might be comfortable sharing. It implicitly changes the nature of the relationship between the teacher and student, which is challenging enough. But in the worst circumstances, what was previously private information (a student’s resources, family dynamics, etc.) may increase the risk for inappropriate interactions between educators and students.

The second risk is that as the use of digital communication between teachers and students becomes more routine, the potential for inappropriate conversations grows steadily greater. If the majority of instruction is taking place virtually, how much easier is it for a teacher to suggest to a student that they talk privately on an unmonitored communication app? The teacher’s initial motivation may be salutary or at the worst, merely benign. But the intrinsic nature of digital communication raises professional and personal risks for both teachers and students when those conversations are unmonitored and insufficiently transparent.

At any point during an online interaction with a student, an educator should reflect on whether he or she would be comfortable if a colleague was a party to the conversation. The unbelievably rapid growth of distance learning is altering the day-to-day practice of teaching but it does not alter the profession’s underlying ethical precepts.

As always, Fred comments are compelling – giving us the opportunity to engender a larger discussion within our specific educational communities. We invite you, the readers of Ethics and Educators, to engage in the conversation by using the comment boxes below to note additional ethical concerns that may be emerging in your jurisdictions. 

We look forward to our next blog – Fred will be discussing student privacy as we continue to reexamine our professional obligations in a virtual classroom.

[i] Frederick S. Lane is an author, educational consultant, and attorney based in New York. He is the author of ten books, including most recently Cybertraps for Expecting Moms & Dads, Raising Cyberethical Kids, and Cybertraps for Educators 2.0. All of his books are available through Amazon.com or his web sites, FrederickLane.com and Cybertraps.com

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

The Emerging Playbook: Reexamining Professional Obligations in a Virtual Classroom

Part I - Mandated Reporting

The beginning of the 2020-2021 school year is undoubtedly unlike any other.

“There are so many moving parts that I feel like my head is about to spin off my torso,” replied one high school principal after I asked her about the reopening of school.

An elementary school administrator told me that she finds herself repeating the same phrase, “I don’t have a playbook for this one,” when responding to the barrage of questions from parents and teachers.

She is right – the sudden reshaping of our educational system was not a part of anyone’s playbook. But that underscores our professional obligation to anticipate the emergence of new ethical complications that result from those structural and pedagogical changes.

This past week I reached out to attorney and author, Frederick Lane[1], to help identify specific ethical issues that we should anticipate given this new landscape. Without hesitation, Fred listed five topics that he thought should be on everyone’s radar. His list includes concerns that may have even had established procedures before the pandemic, but now need to be reexamined given the current reliance on remote learning and virtual interactions.

Furthermore, Fred agreed to frame each one of those issues in five consecutive Ethics and Educators blog posts. Today’s topic is mandated reporting, and over the upcoming weeks, Fred will be discussing student privacy, teacher privacy, the slippery slope of virtual education, and the ethical issues related to technological competence.

Mandated Reporting in an Era of Remote Learning

Frederick Lane

The coronavirus pandemic that has gripped the world is, among so many other things, reshaping our educational systems. Many districts are opting for remote education or, at a minimum, implementing a hybrid of on-campus courses and distance learning. These new paradigms for instruction pose daunting challenges for educators, who now must learn new technology, revamp curricula, and in some cases, teach while simultaneously monitoring the remote learning of their own children.

Some things, however, remain unchanged. Among them are an educator’s ethical and legal obligations to note any threats to the health and safety of their students and to report suspected child abuse to the appropriate authorities. The exact standards and mechanisms for reporting will vary from state to state, so make sure you are familiar with the laws of your jurisdiction.

Educators often are the first to observe evidence of physical abuse or neglect, significant behavioral changes, or deprivations of food or sleep. Those observations may be less likely if students are not physically present in the classroom.

On the other hand, remote instruction provides teachers with a virtual window into the homes of their students. Perforce, this will enable them to see aspects of their lives that don’t always show up in the classroom. Is there something about the physical condition of the home itself that is worrisome? Is the child adequately dressed? Does the child seem uneasy or nervous? Is there verbal or physical abuse? Does another child in the home seem at risk?

School districts should devote some time over the coming months to this issue. Educators will need training on how to evaluate both the verbal and non-verbal information that they see on their screens. How does the remote learning environment affect a teacher’s mandatory reporting requirement? Given the potential litigation and criminal liability that can arise if an educator fails to make a mandated report, both educators and school districts have a vested interest in discussing and understanding the implications of this new form of pedagogy.

Professional ethics is not a static nor isolated component of our profession. It’s an agile and active process that requires reexamining our professional obligations in the light of an everchanging landscape. The new playbook of today’s schooling challenges us to consider how the “virtual window” of remote learning impacts our legal responsibility as mandated reporters.

If your district, county, or state jurisdiction has created resources to assist educators with their mandated reporter obligations while teaching remotely, we invite you to share them with readers of Ethics and Educators by using the comment boxes below.

We look forward to our next blog – Fred will be discussing the slippery slope of teacher-student interactions in light of our growing reliance on remote learning tools.

[1] Frederick S. Lane is an author, educational consultant, and attorney based in New York. He is the author of ten books, including most recently Cybertraps for Expecting Moms & Dads, Raising Cyberethical Kids, and Cybertraps for Educators 2.0. All of his books are available through Amazon.com or his web sites, FrederickLane.com and Cybertraps.com

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

June 25, 2015: Shifting the Narrative

Since the introduction of the Model Code of Ethics for Educators (MCEE) five years ago, I have had the opportunity to see first-hand how it is being used by practitioners, preservice candidates and educator groups across the country. Their enthusiastic implementation of the Code is impressive.

More than anything else, I have been able to witness how the conversations engendered by the MCEE are making a significant difference already in the function and trajectory of our profession.

The Model Code of Ethics for Educators was unveiled at the historic National Press Club in Washington D.C. on June 25, 2015. As we commemorate its five-year anniversary, let’s take a step back and reflect on its origins, as well as its current and future use.

The Beginnings

The discussions that led to the MCEE’s creation started within one organization: National Association of State Directors of Teacher Education and Certification (NASDTEC). Founded in 1928, NASDTEC represents state and provincial departments of education and professional standards boards that are responsible for the preparation, licensure, and – if necessary – the sanctioning of K-12 certified personnel.

In 1997, NASDTEC established an annual conference devoted solely to the topic of educator ethics, as well as the investigation and adjudication of educator misconduct. Known as the Professional Practices Institute (PPI), the conference is regularly attended by attorneys, investigators, state directors, education preparation providers and district officials. Attendee conversations in the meeting rooms and hallways of the PPI helped fuel the early discussions that eventually led to the development of the MCEE.

Between 2012 and 2014, NASDTEC organized a series of purposeful initiatives – symposiums, surveys, webinars, presentations, meetings with professional organization partners – to affirm the need and assess the support for the development of a professional code of ethics.

In the spring of 2014, professional educational organizations selected a diverse and representative group of P-12 stakeholders from across the country – practicing paraprofessionals, teachers, school administrators, district superintendents and state department of education officials from around the country – to serve on the MCEE Task Force. The group met for the first time in Baltimore, Maryland in June 2014 and began a year-long process of drafting a code of ethics.

After numerous face-to-face and virtual meetings, the MCEE Task Force disseminated a draft edition of the code for public comment in February 2015. Based on the feedback it received, the final draft of the document was unveiled at the National Press Club in Washington D.C. on June 25, 2015.

Limitless Utility

The beauty of the Code – and something that I certainly didn’t anticipate – is that its utility to the education profession does not seem to have limitations. The more I work with practitioners as they engage with the MCEE, the more I realize that it cannot easily be summed up with a quick and easy phrase like “professional norms,” “guide to ethical behavior,” “or statement of values.” Those brief descriptions do not do justice to the full potential of the Code as a tool for educators and the profession.

Consider the middle school English teacher whose choice of literature upset some parents: “Using the MCEE, in conjunction with guidelines from the National Council of Teachers of English, I was able to explain the value of the literary selection to the parents and my principal. But just as importantly, I was able to shift the narrative from what ‘I believe is best’ to ‘as teachers, we believe.’”

Or the high school principal who shared with me that the MCEE now gives him permission to have honest, caring discussions with teachers when they may be approaching a compromising situation: “School administrators don’t always feel comfortable discussing those things with a teacher if a line hasn’t been crossed,” he said.

And when an entire elementary school implemented the MCEE into their daily practice, the changes were unmistakable. “Now we are meeting about the micro-steps prior to an issue occurring,” said one teacher, “and its far deeper than discussing ethical dilemmas – we are discussing the steps that lead to an ethical dilemma.” Another shared that “perhaps the greatest gift of the Code is setting educators on that journey of discussions.” An early childhood teacher proclaimed that “we now feel empowered as professionals.”

Of course, this makes sense.

The interpretability of The Model Code of Ethics for Educators allows for robust professional discussions and targeted applications that are unique to every schooling community.

Moving Forward

Since its introduction, the Model Code of Ethics for Educators has been rapidly adopted by a wide range of educational organizations, including state departments of education, county offices of education, school districts and educator preparation programs. As the promotion and implementation of the MCEE continues, we should ask ourselves this germane question: What impact will professional ethics have on the everyday working lives of educators?

In a series of articles that I wrote for RealClear Politics in 2016, I envisioned a future in which professional ethics was a natural part of the preparation and professional learning of educators – as it is in other professions:

 At first, the changes would be structural – teachers would receive training on professional ethics in preparation programs, have discussions involving ethical issues with mentors as they navigate the early years of their careers, and ideally, continue to get refreshers in the form of professional development in which teams of teachers revisit the principles of professional ethics … and discuss with each other how they apply to their own challenges in the classroom.

All of this would go a long way toward helping individual teachers navigate the complexities of their role and become more aware of the unintended consequences of the thousands of decisions they make on a daily basis. But over time, once the idea of professional ethics has become engrained in the field as a whole – and as important to teaching as content and pedagogy – the impact could be transformative.

Educators would avoid falling into the trap of assuming that misconduct is a discrete event and something that only happens to teachers that lose sight of their personal moral compass. Instead, it would acknowledge the collective risk that all teachers face as a result of the demands of their overlapping roles and the intensely personal relationships they are expected to follow.

In turn, this understanding would give teachers permission to approach each other in candid, professional discussions about uncomfortable subjects. This kind of professional environment would allow teachers to self-regulate as a field. And the collective awareness of professional obligations fostered by this environment would allow many situations to be addressed before damage is done and the teachers’ reputations – and students’ lives – face irrevocable harm.

But that is just the beginning. If these kinds of conversations are brought to light in transparent ways, parents and the community as a whole also could understand the challenges that teachers face … over time, this understanding could lead to a much deeper respect for teachers – and the profession as a whole. Perhaps more than anything, that’s what professional ethics can bring to the field – a rethinking of teaching as a true profession, in the eyes of policymakers, the public, and most importantly, in the eyes of teachers themselves.[1]

Although this work is just beginning, the initiative to empower educators through the development and implementation of a professional code of ethics may have a far greater impact than we could have initially imagined.

And that’s because the concept of professional ethics generally – and the MCEE in particular – places responsibility back in the hands of the practitioner. Perhaps most importantly, the Code is successfully engendering collective conversations which, as the middle school English so artfully articulated: “… shifts the narrative from what ‘I believe is best’ to ‘as teachers, we believe.’”

[1] Hutchings, T. (2016). Professional ethics and professionalizing education, RealClear Politics. October 21, 2016.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

Abolishing the Discomfort

Amid our country’s most recent racial reckoning, let’s not forget that schools have historically been – and will no doubt continue to be – a legal battleground for society’s struggle with racism, equity and equality.

The systemic challenges that our educational system faces are profound. But let’s be perfectly clear – it is the individual educator who has the greatest potential to be the arbiter of change and the engine of social progress.

Regardless of the community or grade level, educators will be navigating difficult and potentially polarizing conversations when school resumes this fall – with colleagues, parents, students – related to race relations, power structures in society, the appropriate methods of confronting and challenging societal inequity, and how best to discuss deeply controversial current events.

As we consider how to shape these conversations, we need to honestly and thoroughly examine the impediments that may constrain appropriate action.

This past week, one high school educator in Maryland did precisely that. In an article entitled My Failures as a White Teacher Confronting Racism in the Classroom, teacher Dylan Craig courageously examines why he, and I dare say many of us, have faltered or stood silent when faced with subtle or even blatant displays of racism.

According to Craig, it is not enough to act on discriminatory comments made by students in the hallways and classrooms by applying rote disciplinary actions and demanding half-hearted apologies:

I faltered, not because I felt the discussion was over, or because I felt they had learned something. I stopped because I was uncomfortable. I questioned whether it is my place to discuss false meritocracies. I falter when students frame discussions of human rights as arguments between liberal versus conservative viewpoints, and I fear being accused of indoctrinating students. I falter as I see my students fall back on their personal political views of individualism. School is meant to be a place to allow students to think for themselves and develop their own views — but what views are they developing if those views are based on a false narrative that I am too uncomfortable to address?[1]

Dylan Craig’s experiences are not unique. His honest reflection speaks for educators across the country and exposes what I think is a harsh reality – when faced with deeply disconcerting issues, we may falter because we are uncomfortable acting in isolation.

By identifying our collective professional values and obligations, we strengthen our resolve in countering dangerous and damaging narratives when working with students, colleagues, and other members of the schooling community. Codes of ethics contain the norms that affirm and empower collective professional action. The conversations they engender help to shatter the professional isolation that lead us to question purpose and role – the very competing tensions contained within Mr. Craig’s reflective writing.

Here is the beauty of a broadly agreed-upon code – it unequivocally states what we believe and the standards to which we aspire. Practitioners stand united in their convictions regardless of the turbulent currents in public discourse.

There is a reason why equity and equality are prominent themes in the Model Code of Ethics for Educators – quite simply, they are each central to the mission of professional educators. The Code recognizes and enshrines the fundamental obligation of all educators to acknowledge and deconstruct the barriers to opportunity faced by any student – regardless of whether those barriers are brazenly explicit or insidiously implicit. Eleven MCEE standards, articulated in all five of the Principles, are devoted to the professional responsibilities of equity, equality, and anti-discrimination.

But those MCEE standards go beyond merely stating professional values – they express an ethical standard of purposeful movement. Rooted in action phrases, they refute complacency or neutrality.

Our responsibility to the profession entails not just holding oneself accountable to the ethical standards, but also our colleagues and the broader school community. As uncomfortable as professional accountability may be – it needs to be done. In just the two weeks since the death of George Floyd, news outlets have reported that a public school superintendent, as well as several teachers and coaches, have been fired or resigned due to insensitive, tone deaf, or racist social media posts.

We can do better.

Let’s be emboldened by our stated collective professional norms and obligations as articulated in the Model Code of Ethics for Educators, allow ourselves to have the difficult conversations – and in the process, abolish the discomfort that is often rooted in professional isolationism.

[1] Craig, D. (June 5, 2020). My Failures as a White Teacher Confronting Racism in the Classroom. Maryland Matters. https://www.marylandmatters.org/2020/06/05/opinion-my-failures-as-a-white-teacher-confronting-racism-in-the-classroom/

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

Ethics During a Pandemic

Professional ethics is greater than a code. It’s a spirit. An ideal. Remaining steadfast to the calling that propels our life’s work.

I was reminded of this yesterday during a phone call with a school district administrator. I started our meeting with an apology – maybe now wasn’t the time to discuss a tangential topic like professional ethics when her large urban district, like all districts, was grappling with the impact of the Coronavirus.

“Nothing is more important than professional ethics at a time like this,” she stated with conviction.

Her response was not what I expected. And in all honesty, I was struggling to make the connection between the Model Code of Ethics for Educators and the pandemic.

But it wasn’t about a code of ethics.

When the administrative team at her district was faced with developing a strategic plan specific to this crisis, the prospect of completely redesigning schooling was the most viable option – and it needed to be completed in a matter of hours. Imagine the pressure.

The clock was ticking.

But they decided that all decisions needed to emanate from a community-created framework – the district’s mission, vision and the pillars of their strategic plan. They worked diligently with a focus. Overriding objectives were created, all aligned to the district’s mission, which then gave birth to short-term and long-term strategies needed to provide for the basic needs of the students, the employees and the community during this time of crisis.

Facing an overwhelming avalanche of decisions, I can almost hear the superintendent say to her cabinet, “Let’s take a deep breath and step back for a second – let’s revisit the core of what we believe.”

We sometimes forget that schools are the epicenter of society – involving not only educational practitioners, but also resource officers, nutritionists, social workers, probation officers, occupational therapists, speech pathologists, audiologists, court-appoint advocates, as well as medical and mental health professionals who all work cohesively within the schooling environment – and we haven’t even mentioned basic provisions such as breakfast and lunches.  

Providing educational services is about putting systems into place to meet the needs of ALL students and their families in an equitable fashion. Can you imagine the enormity of that task?

Think about it – even during heightened anxiety, increased scrutiny and with little time, the district’s core ideological framework became the starting point for the myriad important decisions that would need to be made during an unprecedented crisis.

All decisions flowed from that touchstone – an ideal to frame a district’s ethos, and a collectively agreed-upon vision to guide those important decisions.

Now that’s acting in the public’s best interest. That’s professional ethics – even without a code.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

Professional Ethics: Its All About the "We"

During her opening remarks at this year’s Professional Practices Institute, the current NASDTEC President shared a line from a series of well-known commercials to illustrate the collective knowledge held by the conference attendees:

“We know a thing or two, because we've seen a thing or two.” 

The tagline communicates experience, a resulting professional wisdom, and perhaps most critically, it infers trust.

I couldn’t help but consider how that slogan embodies the kind of agency that professional ethics strives to achieve. At its very core, professional ethics makes a promise: “You can trust us – we are acting in the public’s best interest.”

But what assurance does the public have that we are acting in its best interest? After all, this is a profession that values and even relishes professional autonomy – which works well with teaching methodologies and classroom protocol, but it may not necessarily inspire public confidence when serious situations occur.

Social psychologist Albert Bandura, provides insight through a concept he calls “collective agency … people’s shared belief in their collective power to produce desired results.”[1] In other words, practitioners working together to navigate the complexities of a profession that has multiple duties, overlapping obligations, and a staggering amount of high-stakes responsibilities.

Collective agency has the potential to tap into the shared wisdom of educators – their experiences, their preparation, their knowledge, and when used with the Model Code of Ethics for Educators, the profession’s collective values.

But most importantly, there is an exciting and dynamic synergy involved when colleagues work together in response to emerging situations and issues. It connects us to each other as educators, and as professionals – regardless of the grade levels or subject areas that we teach.

I have witnessed literally hundreds of educator groups working together to resolve ethical dilemmas – in schools as well as workshop and research settings – where collective agency is occurring in a vibrant manner. Practitioners discussing together the competing tensions, possible risks and consequences of complex situations that may be unique to their learning community. Laughter and stories always emerge – resulting in a shared honesty and transparency. And by using a common set of standards – the Model Code of Ethics for Educators – they have a guide in working towards a common solution:

• Third grade teachers in a suburban elementary school created a professional response to parents who were insisting that teachers utilize personal social media platforms for communication purposes.

• Coaches at a small rural high school realized that they were all facing the same dilemma – the one student who has no way to get home late at night after an athletic event. Together, they created a solution that didn’t involve placing students in their personal vehicles – yet ensured student safety.

• High school educators who were implementing SEL strategies into their classrooms were concerned about how to cultivate caring relationships in a safe manner. They created agreed-upon boundaries – which actually enhanced the teacher-student relationship, while at the same time ensuring professional integrity.

Professional ethics speaks with one voice. It relies on the shared wisdom and experiences of practitioners when responding to the unique variables present in each situation. It removes decision-making from the wheelhouse of an individualized personal morality and places it in the hands of a collective and unified profession.

By exercising collective agency, there will rarely be accusations related to conflict-of-interest, self-serving decisions, or immunity from the common good. Quite simply, it inspires public confidence.

In a profession that routinely considers decision-making as an individual and isolated endeavor, let’s recognize the efficacy of collective agency.

It’s all about the “we.”

“WE know a thing or two, because WE’VE seen a thing or two.”   

[1] Bandura, A. (2000). Exercise of human agency through collective efficacy. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 9, 75-78.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

The Greater Priority

The question resonated with candor and clarity in the hushed board room.

“What is the greater priority for educators – an understanding of professional ethics or an understanding of the regulations that govern an educator’s practice?”

After listening to my testimony on professional ethics and the Model Code of Ethics for Educators, the Chair of the state’s Educator Ethics Task Force reframed the question: “As we contemplate whether to recommend  additional requirements to educator preparation programs, should the top priority for teacher candidates be an understanding of professional ethics or an understanding of regulations?”

I have worked with thousands of educators throughout the country and have come to a conclusion that will probably startle and certainly dismay parents and other community stakeholders – teachers generally have little to no knowledge of either professional ethics or the regulatory frameworks that govern their profession.

And that’s a travesty.

Codes of conduct (e.g., laws, certification statutes and district policies) are designed to protect all stakeholders within the school community. They establish basic boundaries – the bright red lines that cannot be crossed without significant consequences. But codes of conduct are not aspirational. They are written to establish the lowest threshold of acceptable behavior for all educators.

Professional ethics, on the other hand, are collectively agreed-on standards that prompt, guide and inform decision-making. They can be contextualized to unique settings and situations while assisting practitioners in choosing the most appropriate course-of-action.                                         

Both are important. Both define and inform a professional standard-of-care. Both establish norms for professional practice. Both inspire public confidence. When used together, educators’ decisions not only bear public scrutiny, they assuredly reflect the highest levels of beneficence and public trust – a profession acting in the best interest of those that it serves.

Yet, the question that was posed to me on that day asked me to choose one or the other – the greater priority – an understanding of professional ethics or an understanding of regulations?

I responded without reservation: “a thorough understanding of policies, statues and law should always take precedence.”

Let’s examine this a bit more closely.

Clear and unambiguous conduct absolutes are necessary in a fiduciary profession when teachers act in loco parentis with society’s most treasured resources – its children.

But it’s not enough to merely pass out a list of district policies and have educators acknowledge they have read them. Practitioners will always have insightful and germane questions pertaining to specific situations. Consider a situation that is familiar to most educators: a district policy might state that putting a student in an employee’s personal vehicle is not allowed, but every educator will be able to provide multiple scenarios when it might be necessary. So, let’s provide opportunities for robust discussions without judgment.

In addition, I have found that most teachers are not aware of the statutes that govern their professional license, let alone the federal and state laws that specifically apply to educators. Everyone knows that a romantic relationship between a student and an educator is forbidden, but how does the law define “student”? Does your state do so by age, by graduation date, by supervisory relationship or some other metric? In one state, high school graduates are considered students until August 31 of the year they graduate. In another state, the defining threshold is 90 days if the educator had direct supervision of the student, and 60 days if the supervision was indirect. Consider the damaging consequences of not fully discerning the subtleties of state specific laws!

As paradoxical as it may seem, even the Model Code of Ethics for Educators acknowledges the deference that should be given to policy and law. The very first two standards of the MCEE clearly acknowledges this regulatory priority:       

• MCEE I.A(1): “… understanding of the Code (MCEE) is not in itself, a defense to a charge of unethical conduct.”
• MCEE I.A(2): “… knowing and upholding the procedures, policies, laws and regulations … regardless of personal views.”

In addition, there are many other MCEE standards that nod to the importance of adhering to policy and statutes.[1]

When confronted with a new situation or one that presents significant but conflicting tensions, the first step in the decision-making process should always be to refer to applicable codes of conduct and consider their application to potential decision points. Once the practitioner is satisfied that the minimum threshold of acceptable behavior has been cleared – which is an obligation as a state-licensed professional – then the broader ethical implications should be considered. The Model Code of Ethics for Educators is designed to afford practitioners the opportunity to discuss the situation in the context of our professional responsibility to act in the public’s best interest, while minimizing professional risk to themselves and the schooling community.

I was able to provide an unwavering response to the Chair’s question because a solid grounding in law, regulation and policy should be a prerequisite given the immensely important duties ascribed to educators.

But it was only a partial answer.

Educators not only need to be law abiding; they need to be ethical as well. And that’s a career-long objective that the MCEE can facilitate.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

You Went to College - Just Teach!

I was terrified – it was my first teaching job, and I only had two weeks to prepare.

Teaching middle school students isn’t what terrified me. But starting my career in the early 80’s meant the only curricular road map was a textbook. And that was severely outdated.

No state standards. No internet. Inadequate texts.

I sheepishly entered the principal’s office and asked, “What content should 8^th graders be learning in their English classes – what should I be teaching?”

“You went to college – just teach,” she replied with a smile.

It was probably the only answer she could give – an honest confession exposing a gap that was present in our profession.

State teaching and learning standards, as we know them today, simply didn’t exist in the late 70's and early 80's. Words and phrases that we now take for granted – benchmarks, competencies, direct instructional lesson planning, instructional scaffolding, learning objectives, cross-walking standards to curriculum – were not a part of our professional lexicon. 

For those of us at the middle and high school levels, to “just teach” meant that we frequently went a bit rogue. We often found ourselves in curricular and pedagogical silos. What was being taught varied greatly between teachers. And most importantly, there were extreme differences between what students might be learning – even within the same course, school, district and state.

So much of what I chose to teach in the pre-standards era was based on my own values, experiences and preferences. And I was not unique. As crazy and chaotic as that sounds now, it was often the norm.

So, what does any of this have to do with professional ethics?

I am finding striking similarities in the discussions I have with educators about the field of ethics. Without common professional ethics standards, practitioners are left on their own with only their personal values and experiences as a guide – which means a high degree of isolation and variance between educators in determining appropriate courses-of-action when interacting with students, parents and other stakeholders.

Today, it would be unconscionable to ignore district, state and national standards when curriculum mapping. Yet, we are one of the few fiduciary professions that has not had ethics standards with which to align to our daily decision-making – and we can’t disregard the fact that we are in a high-risk profession where seemingly insignificant decisions can cause irreparable damage.

The education profession has made great strides since I first started teaching. Teacher candidates today know what needs to be taught because content standards are now part of the DNA of our profession. Lesson plans, objectives, unit plans – they are all linked to collectively agreed-upon standards.

And now it’s time to do the same with standards in professional ethics. Since 2015, the Model Code of Ethics for Educators (MCEE) has been available as a mechanism to bridge that gap – allowing educators to collectively determine responses to the complexities of their practice in a way that aligns to the values of the profession.

But let’s be perfectly clear about this set of professional standards.

The Model Code of Ethics for Educators is not meant to be used for evaluation or assessment. It is not a set of rules. It is not about right or wrong. It does not tell us what to do, or even what not to do. It is not meant to bind or constrain educators.

Quite simply, it is an invitation.

Professional ethics invites practitioners to collectively determine how to best navigate the intense demands of the overlapping roles and personal relationships they are expected to foster by using the MCEE standards as a guide. Key concepts that are present in all professional codes – transparency, risks, unintended consequences, implications, equity, appearance of impropriety, communication, conflict of interest, confidentiality, multiple relationships, role ambiguity – are at the core of the standards contained within the MCEE.

Other professions – law, counseling, medicine, finance, psychology – all have a long history of integrating their codes of ethics and ethics standards into their professional frameworks.

It is as foundational to their practitioners as content standards are to educators.

It is time we do the same.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

What are We Missing?

Recently, I had the opportunity to witness something astonishing.

At a symposium on educator boundaries in New Jersey, two well-known and highly respected attorneys took the floor to share the fact pattern of a particularly difficult local case.

31-year-old high school math teacher. Sexual relationship with a 17-year-old senior. Texting. Trips. Three years of litigation. Prison time. Millions in settlements and costs. Betrayed trust. Community’s confidence shattered.

Case closed. The predator is gone, so let’s wash our hands and get back to the business of education, right?

Not so fast.

The presenters of this case study then did something remarkable – they undercut their own compelling narrative by revealing a few startling facts.

There was no evidence, for instance, of any grooming behaviors or attempts to isolate the student by the offender. In fact, there was no evidence in the transcripts that indicated that the offender was even a predator.

And his character? Everyone could vouch for him. He was once a student in the very district in which he taught. All his friends were part of the school community and his personal activities revolved around school functions. He was deeply invested in the school, his students, and the broader educational community.

“Given these facts,” the attorneys said, “it becomes necessary to ask a question that doesn’t get posed often enough – what are we missing?”

Four words. An important question that rarely gets asked.

And the simple act of asking that question shifts the narrative – it acknowledges the situational and systemic variables that curate the conditions for missteps to occur.

When we focus exclusively on the event of misconduct and try to link it to assumed character flaws, we miss a crucial point: a breach of trust and responsibility like this is not a solitary moment in time, but part of a continuum of personal interactions and decision-making.

Teachers are asked to play an increasingly expansive role in their students’ lives – counselors, mentors, confidants – without any discussion of the vulnerabilities or risks inherent within those shared spaces. The gray areas left untouched by law and policy are vast and difficult to traverse – and almost impossible to resolve on their own every single time. Virtually all professions that are characterized by intimate relationships – counseling, psychology, law, medicine – rely on professional standards and norms that help them recognize and respond appropriately when navigating those interactions.

And that’s where professional ethics comes into play.

It’s about initiating difficult conversations about the uncomfortable realities of our profession. It’s about facing, together, a broad range of situations well before a legal line has been crossed. Professional ethics – as reflected in the Model Code of Ethics for Educators – recognizes and calls attention to the potential blind spots that inevitably occur and provides a framework for sharing our collective honesty, experience, and professionalism.

So, let’s ask ourselves what might be missing – how we can give our profession permission to have those difficult but meaningful conversations.

Quite simply, these kinds of conversations have power. They inspire and cultivate a sense of practitioner agency. And most importantly, they will go a long way in collectively determining how to best navigate those relational imperatives that are unique to our profession.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

A Precarious Balance

I guess it would be an understatement to say that parenting can be a bit chaotic at times – a juggling act that can rarely be accomplished alone.

The time a father got stuck in a late meeting at work, it was an educator who rescued his 10-year old daughter from a rainstorm as she waited for him on a street corner. Or the time lunch money was needed on a field trip, it was a teacher who covered the cost.

There always seems to be an educator who quietly provides an assist at exactly the right time. I am sure many of us can relate.

But it goes beyond helping parents.

Ask anyone about the teacher who made a difference. Sure, you will hear about inspired learning. But you are just as likely to hear something more personal – like the young adult who recently shared with me that “… there has been nobody like her. She kept me from veering into the ditch – and when I did, she pulled me out with love.”

We revere and honor those educators who make personal investments into the lives of their students. It’s a recognized benchmark of professional excellence.

Yet, every educator will tell you this is dangerous terrain filled with ethical landmines.

Remember the educator who provided a ride for the father’s daughter when it was pouring rain? She violated district policy by placing a student in a personal vehicle. And the teacher who provided lunch money – he risked accusations of bias and favoritism.

Education is a profession where contractual duties intersect with the human condition. And as caring human beings – we can’t just turn our backs. In fact, that is why many of us became educators.

But this can result in a professional tension that is rarely discussed – and for many, is present every day in their practice as educators. Consider the following perspectives from various teachers who were interviewed as part of a national research study [1]:

• “One of my students came to me in private and told me she was scared to walk home. I was concerned about her. It was dark. She had been sexually assaulted before. I’m trying to protect her and make sure she gets home from school safely. I gave her my cell number and told her to call me when she got home. The next day, I was called into the principal’s office ...”
  
  
• “It seems we are actually at odds with a natural human reaction – and we are being asked to challenge that reaction. We’re being asked to put that aside in the face of a rule as opposed to simply responding the way humans should respond.”
  
  
• “We are stuck between two opposites – what is the human thing to do and what is the policy?We keep getting straight-jacketed into the bounds in which we operate.”
  
  
• “Our job is to interact with human beings, and you have to have elements of humanity in those interactions in order to have any kind of genuine connection – to truly teach.”
  
  
• “It came down to a decision. I have to make sure I have my job. So, having my job is more important than doing something that is humane.”

Imagine the uncertainty of feeling trapped with only binary choices. The ethical dilemma should never be reduced to a choice that pits policy against compassion – or keeping a job as opposed to responding humanely.

Professional ethics asks entirely different questions. How does one act with compassion as a practitioner? What does compassion look like in the context of the uniqueness of every schooling community? At what point should we intervene outside the scope of our prescribed duties? How can I best be transparent in my actions? How far is too far? What shall I do when I feel myself becoming consumed by the needs of a singular situation or student?

The answers are most likely not found in policy or statute. Nor can they be relegated to simply completing an ethics check-the-box training at the beginning of the school year.

In the field of professional ethics, the answers always reside with the practitioners. Professional ethics demands honest and transparent discussions about the issues that all practitioners face, while working together to create appropriate solutions. The real power comes from no longer having to go it alone.

To not have those discussions – to push them to the side?

In the words of another experienced teacher – a research participant from the same study:  “The balance is more precarious because those ethics are getting pushed farther and farther under the fringes – and where does that leave us?”

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

“Please, Just Tell Me What to Do!”

This past week I had the privilege of working with a group of preservice candidates who are currently immersed in their student teaching semester. The look on their faces said it all – exhausted and overwhelmed.

The general topic of our discussion was professional ethics and the virtue of practitioner decision-making that aligns to professional standards. The specific focus, however, was on “navigating the gray” by using the Model Code of Ethics for Educators as a collective tool for crafting resolutions to complex issues.

About an hour into our time together, one of the participants stated in exasperation: “My head is about to explode. Please, just tell me what to do!” 

I had missed the mark entirely.

I failed to remember what it was like to be in their shoes. For our newest educators, each day is a struggle to navigate the seemingly endless crush of student needs while still trying to learn content, craft lessons and implement individualized learning plans. And as daunting as the pedagogical workload is for a new educator, the emotional fatigue from making hundreds of non-trivial daily decisions in isolation can be just as overwhelming.

But here’s the catch – it’s not just beginning teachers who are pleading “just tell me what to do!” Teachers, at every level of professional experience, also confront countless complex decisions in their daily practice with only their personal values as a guide.

Unlike the licensed practitioners of other professions, teachers do not receive adequate training in professional ethics. More importantly, the education profession does not provide its practitioners with an understanding of how a code of professional ethics can provide a framework for evaluating difficult issues and offer assurances for both the decision-making process and the outcomes.

When the student teachers and I finished our time together, one of them summed up the isolation of professional decision-making with a germane observation: “We talk about data, classroom management, and RTI – but I don’t remember anyone talking about ethics in our PLC. But we should. Why is this such a private matter?”

His observation was spot-on. We turn ethics into a private matter when our professional decision-making is based on our differing personal values and not on agreed-upon professional norms and standards – like those contained within the Model Code of Ethics for Educators.

Let’s be perfectly clear – the Model Code of Ethics for Educators is not THE solution. In the world of professional ethics, the solution always resides with practitioners. Kenneth Pope and Melba Vasquez, ethicists with the American Psychological Association, perhaps said it best: “The formal standards are not a substitute for an active, deliberative and creative approach to fulfilling our ethical responsibilities. They prompt, guide, and inform our ethical consideration; they do not serve as a substitute for it.”[1]

Let’s start the discussion.

Troy Hutchings, Ed.D.

Senior Policy Advisor, NASDTEC

Professional Ethics - It's About Right and Wrong, Right?

If only it were that simple.

Using binary terms like “right” and “wrong” might be an easy way to describe professional decision-making, but in reality, our work as educators demands a far more nuanced approach. The public may view schools as strongholds of standardization and homogeneity, but educators know that every single day, they are required to make an extraordinary number of difficult decisions, each one as varied and unique as the students and families they serve. From one moment to the next, from early morning until late at night, it’s rarely about right or wrong but how to best navigate the gray.

An elementary school administrator was recently sharing with me how parental expectations for communication with teachers at her school – phone, email, social media, text, and even video chats – resulted in a disastrous situation for a caring educator. Her first reaction was to establish a new policy to limit how and when communication with parents was to take place. But she knew that something as important as parental interaction was situational and deserved to reside in the gray. To create a mandate would force teachers to choose between doing what was “right” according to policy or choosing to communicate with parents according to professional judgement. All too often, teachers are placed in situations where they feel like they have little choice but to break policy – and it is safe to assume those decisions are typically made in isolation and without transparency.

Perhaps that is why we have often tiptoed around the topic of professional ethics, or even worse, confused it with other terms such as “dispositions,” “codes of conduct,” or “morality.” The grayness in which so many educator decisions are made is ambiguous, murky, and at times uncomfortable to discuss. But our school communities and in particular, our students, deserve an honest conversation.

Medicine, law, mental health, and other professions also deal with competing tensions that can create the same kind of gray areas that arise in education. But they have had established codes of ethics for decades, which promote discussions that inform and frame a collective professional decision-making process. Consider that the American Medical Association developed and adopted its code of ethics in 1847 so that practitioners would not be facing professional risks and complexities in isolation. A significant goal of professional ethics is to establish a shared language, one that enables practitioners to have difficult conversations with each other without defaulting to a “right” or “wrong” binary lexicon.  

We need to dispel misperceptions about professional ethics – that it is synonymous with statutes or that it is an attempt to codify morality. A code of ethics for a profession doesn’t limit the decision-making of its members. Instead, it provides guidelines that empower the practitioners of that profession to carefully and thoughtfully weigh the competing values that arise in each situation and reach a fair and rational decision. At its very core, educator ethics is about inspiring and cultivating agency among practitioners.

After conducting a workshop in Louisiana several years ago, a teacher approached me with an insight that was so on-point, I have assimilated it into virtually every presentation I have given since: “I have determined that professional ethics is not about making the RIGHT decision,” she said, “but rather having the RIGHT REASON to make a decision.”

And maybe it is just that simple.