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Willower, D. J. (1979). Ideology and science in organization theory. Educational Administration Quarterly, 15(3), 20-42. WiUower, D. J. (1980). Contemporary issues in theory in educational administration. Educational Administration Quarterly, 16(3), 1-25. Willower, D. J. (1985). Philosophy and the study of educational administration. Journal of Educational Administration, 23(1), 7-22.
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COMMENT Mark Holmes Department of Educational Administration, OISE Greenfield continues his attack on the bastion of a science of educational administration, a continuation that is justified by the bastion's seeming impregnability. He makes three major points that appear to me to be irrefutable. First, it is conceptually bizarre to assume that a science of educational administration can be developed outside a framework of value. This is not to argue that all study of administration must be substantively absurd. It is normal, for example, for schools of business administration to work within a framework of explicit, capitalist values. These schools typically assume that profit is a major (probably the primary) goal of private enterprise and that concepts of effectiveness and efficiency are central values in the pursuit of that goal. To be sure, many thinkers, even within schools of business, question the value of capitalist ideology, but they recognize the line between assumed values and recommended processes. Indeed, it is precisely the values of unfettered capitalism that the critics principally attack. The lack of consensus about the purpose of the elementary and secondary school makes it more important rather than less to have a clear framework of goals and values. The modern idea that schools can function in a value-free atmosphere brings the whole educational profession, and particularly administrators, into disrepute. If high levels of academic achievement and the inculcation of certain aspects of character are the major goals, then a specific set of administrative patterns makes conceptual sense. If, on the other hand, individual fulfilment and the development of self-concept are the major goals, very different administrative patterns are indicated. If there were consensus about the goals of schooling and their relative priority; it would make some sense to develop overarching administrative principles and, in particular, managerial principles, to the limited extent possible in the context of the vagaries of human nature and character. It is quite inappropriate to assume a set of Interchange 17/2©The Ontario Institute for Studies in Education 1986
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common goals without stating them. It is even more inappropriate to imply that the goals are irrelevant; that sound administration is a constant irrespective of the values one espouses; that administering a Nazi prisoner-of-war camp is essentially the same as administering a collegial retreat for professors of education. Black humorists will argue that each set of administrators might learn something from the other, but the basic point is evident. Second, attempts to produce valid generalizations applicable to educational administration have failed. It is still possible to assume, as many academics in educational administration in fact do, that there are conceptually imaginable theories about administration in education waiting to be discovered. The fact that Greenfield and I consider such assumptions absurd does not banish them from the realm of human thought. However, the combination of an irrefutable case in logic for the absurdity of the task and the total lack of success in the attempt makes a powerful argument for its discontinuance. The failure of science in educational administration can be illustrated by examining two of the most widely believed generalizations in the field. It is an article of faith among the believers in the theory of educational administration that educators should be involved in decision making on matters in which they have both a personal stake and expertise, provided that the decisions are not so constrained or trivial as to lie within a "zone of acceptance" (Hoy & Miskel, 1982, pp. 285-287). This proposition is not put forward, as it might reasonably be, as a moral value, to be considered within a context of administrative ethics, but rather as an empirical truth. Indeed, the pretence of science serves to obscure the important ethical question. It is alleged that decisions are most effectively implemented if the above condition is met. The real world of power shows this proposition not to be true. The government of British Columbia has imposed a number of educational decisions quite effectively over the last few years without much consultation. An example is the implementation of province-wide testing. In contrast, the Ontario government announced province-wide testing and then entered a protracted decision-making process. There are no plans for province-wide testing in Ontario today. The public wants such testing. The educational establishment does not. Consultation with the people with stake and expertise has not led to more efficient and effective implementation but to no implementation at all. The split between public and profession is based on different values--partly conflicting self-interest, but, more significantly, basic differences in assumptions about underlying goals of education. The decision not to go ahead is presumably based on the values of the decision-makers together with their perceptions of the relative clout of the dissenting parties. Scientific administrators argue that there are cases where consultation does lead to better implementation. No one will deny that. It is often both reasonable and moral to involve certain groups in consultation, in the context of our shared, contemporary political values. In addition, it is often necessary to involve individuals or groups, with or without stake and expertise, for the simple reason that they have power. The truism that can be safely stated about consultation is tautological: It is not reasonable to attempt to implement a decision without consultation if those involved, whether directly affected or not, have sufficient clout to prevent its completion. No one will deny that implementation is more effective if everyone agrees on what is to be done. But does consultation bring agreement?
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Sometimes yes, sometimes no--it depends on personal values and on the political context. But consultation, in many circumstances, is still a good thing. Educational implementation has collected a whole set of alleged generalizations. Now, if all the factors that are supposed to influence educational implementation are defined broadly enough and if they are sufficiently unrelated to each other, then it becomes possible to explain any conceivable eventuality postfactum, and in fact most of the research in implementation is post factum. Even a brief look at major educational innovations in Canada over the last decade or so illustrates no evident relationship between the factors supposedly crucial for implementation and actual implementation. The only remarkable, successful educational innovation that has taken hold across Canada during that period has been French immersion. In terms of its own limited goals, providing one ignores the unintended side effects, it has been successful everywhere it has been tried. Learners become remarkably fluent in speaking, listening, reading, and writing French without any loss of competence in the first language. Yet, immersion was imposed, in most cases arbitrarily, in a brutally top-down manner; there was little or no consultation with teachers; totally "inappropriate" first language instructional methods were used; teachers ignorant of second language methods were frequently brought in from outside, often from overseas; and there was minimal in-service training. Most readers can probably advance fairly cogent explanations for the success of French immersion, but they generally lie outside the implementation mythology. For example, it is likely that factors contributing to the success of French immersion include: the fervor with which many middle-class parents believe a second language will be economically and professionally advantageous to their children in a bilingual country; the elitist quality of French immersion programs, in terms of their recruitment and their public status; and the effect of direct instructional methodologies, which are simultaneously being removed from regular instructional programs in much of Ontario and Quebec where most of the research has been carried out. Fullan (1982), while carefully documenting the procedural pitfalls and prescriptions in implementation, fails to consider two significant value positions. The first is that learners, including teachers, should know what and why they are being taught. It is this precept that prevents indoctrination and the spread of propaganda. It is precisely this premise that is overlooked by implementors bent on showing how teachers can be converted to the new, approved methodology. Barrow argues that "the judgement of the individual t e a c h e r s . . , must be paramount in deciding how to proceed, rather than the generalized demands of some curriculum design or otherwise imposed rules of educational experts" (1984, p. 264). Barrow also argues that there are, in fact, comparatively few safe methodological assumptions, yet most contemporary cunicular innovations are methodological. A second idea not taken into account in Fullan's work or indeed in most of the implementation literature is that there may be some fundamental values in education which transcend issues of implementation. If one accepts some set of clear purposes in education, for example the development of truth and virtue, that premise limits both the kind of innovation one may introduce and the methods by which it may be propagated. Thus there are some very good reasons why implementation recipes do not and should not work. They do not work because they assume implementation is a matter of process, only marginally related to the values surrounding the proposed change. The imple-
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mentors recognize that some protagonists have values antithetical to the proposed change. But such values are defined as problematic. They do not recognize that the values may be legitimate, reflecting traditional ideology and the public will. The implementation recipes do not and should not work because they have been constructed on assumptions that deliberately exclude the consideration of prior values. The very concept of implementation assumes that there is a given change that ought to be implemented and that any obstacles to the change, which is usually the property of senior educators, ought to be removed or overcome. The third point on which I believe Greenfield and I are in implicit agreement is a corollary of the first two. If the idea of a science of educational administration is bizarre and if the alleged findings of the science lack empirical support and are sometimes miseducative, it follows that it is impossible to train educational administrators and unwise to make the attempt. Now, I do not mean that it is of no value to train principals how to evaluate students, how to construct schedules, and how to organize teachers and students for instruction. Providing the underlying values are made explicit, I have no objection to training in such managerial tasks, although I do think that such training is generally best embedded in a broader educational program that will at least briefly examine the value assumptions on which the managerial techniques are based. More broadly, the kind of education we want administrators to undergo depends on the type of person we want them to be and the type of education we want them to develop. These are value questions. Consider the case of a school in a fictional, totalitarian country designed to produce graduates entirely subservient to the state. This school is effective in producing unswervingly loyal graduates who believe exactly what they are told and who are utterly lacking in originality or sceptical, analytical skills. One might describe such a school as well managed, but in the context of our Western world, it would be inappropriate to call it well administered. I am not playing with words here. If it is argued that administration is in fact management, then we shall have to find a new expression for what Greenfield and I are calling the study of educational administration. In common parlance, citizens will not consider a school well administered which systematically uses torture or indoctrination and which systematically suppresses all original thought. That would be antithetical to our values and to our sense of education. However, some people may categorize a school as being badly administered simply on the grounds that it is not characterized by their own values, even though the school is efficient and effective and reflects the public will. For example, one might argue that a particular school cannot be well administered because it uses corporal punishment. Another may use the term good administration to embrace a variety of approaches, some liked and some not, provided the range reflects our society's general values. Essentially then, my argument, like Greenfield's, is that school administration cannot be reduced to questions of efficiency and effectiveness without considering what is being effected. Even so, while it is easy to draw a conceptual distinction between a generally instrumental idea of management and a policy-oriented definition of administration, in practice our own favored usage varies with our own preferences and values. The concept of good administration can only exist within a context of shared values. During the symposium at which Greenfield presented his paper, Carl Bereiter suggested that we were complaining about bad science, not science. It is true that
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the examples I have given are bad science. However, my point is that they are necessarily bad science. There cannot be good science in educational administration outside a context of recognition of the place of human values and will. Education itself is a moral endeavor, but beyond that, there is an important difference between administering a school and teaching reading. The objective of achieving competence in reading is a moral concept. Once it is decided, as it usually is, that reading is a good thing, it is possible to conduct adequate scientific investigations to determine the efficacy of a variety of approaches to instruction. Administration is not analogous. Unlike reading, it is neither a good thing nor a bad thing in itself. It is a required process inside a hierarchical organization. But it is a process that cannot exist independently of values. Organizations have outcomes which may be evaluated. If the organization is an armament factory, we may first determine whether the undertaking is worthwhile or not, before defining the best administration as being that which produces the most lethal product at lowest cost. If the organization produces pigs, we may qualify our previous judgment based on effectiveness and efficiency by taking into account the quafity of life of the pigs themselves. If the organization produces change in children, then we shall take into account the myriad intended and unintended changes that may take place within these children. As some changes are exclusive of others, we shall have to choose those changes we want, and those we are prepared to sacrifice, or place in lower priority. Thus teaching reading is a moral act because we assume both that ability to read is a good and that instruction is an appropriate method of producing that ability. The worth of administration cannot be assumed for it depends on the end to which it is put. All administration is centrally concerned with values. Educational administration is doubly involved with values, because education, as compared with, for example, tree farming, is continually fraught with moral choice. We are more morally concerned with the development of children than we are with the development of trees, or pigs.
Points of Disagreement Greenfield and I are in basic agreement about the conceptual and practical inadequacy of the idea of theory in educational administration. But our agreement dissolves when we turn to what should replace the current approach to the field. There seem to be two sources of our disagreement; one concerns the nature of knowledge, of truth, the other the nature of the field of educational administration.
Disagreement About the Nature of Truth Greenfield does not address the first question directly but his views can be inferred, particularly in the context of his other writing which can be seen as being subjectivist if not phenomenological, an epithet he disclaims. In examining the nature of science, he asks rhetorically, "But what knowledge is reliable? Perhaps in the end we must be content with knowledge that lets us get through the day, preferably happily" (p. 67). However tentatively phrased, that is a teleological statement, and one quite consistent with Greenfield's other writing. Greenfield objects to the pushing of values to one side; so do I. But the values that must be introduced, he argues, are whatever values happen to be selected by each individual, probably
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based on what will get that individual happily through each day. That is the position of the existentialist, a label Greenfield may eschew. Whatever the label, he does imply that values are and should be developed in an individualistic way to meet the contextual situation; meaning is constructed by each of us for our own particular purposes. I do not share such a belief in the relativity of all values and therefore cannot accept such relativity as a basis for work in a field which is concerned centrally with moral choices. Let me illustrate the difference between us in terms of the field of educational administration. Greenfield agrees with the positivists that the study of educational administration is science, provided that their definition of science is extended to include all forms of truth. I, in turn, would agree that the study of educational administration should be concerned with truth, but only if the definition of truth is extended to include a sense of the good, an extension Greenfield would clearly be unwilling to make because he sees fact and value as being essentially and necessarily differentiated; in this sense, he is more closely identified with the positivist tradition than I! Truth for Greenfield includes not only the scientific truths of the physical and biological sciences but the values and beliefs held by individuals in daily life. Truth for me includes, beyond those things, the nature of the good life. For example, the statement "One ought to tell the truth" is, for me, a higher form of truth than the research finding "Educational innovations work better if teachers are given a sense of ownership of the change being introduced." For one thing, no research finding has meaning unless the prior statement is assumed. In the same way, the statement "She is a teacher of 7-year-olds in our local school; therefore she should teach them to read" is, for me, a true statement irrespective of the curricular context in which she works. This is not to assert there can be no distinction between fact and value, but it is to assert that value statements can be and are derived from factual statements. (For elaboration of this point, see Maclntyre, 1981, pp. 54-57). While Greenfield may not share this philosophy, there are many who do. There are many who believe in a transcendent good which ought to govern our lives. Some believe they have a revealed truth about the good; others, like me, feel we only have an imperfect sense of the good and must be guided by reasoning based on traditional conceptions of it. Either way, the principle and many of the value outcomes are the same--there is a purpose in our lives. If there is a purpose in our lives, that purpose is likely to be central to the education of children. If a society consensuatly agrees on a conceptualization of the good, as many societies traditionally have done, then that conceptualization will and should be represented in the schools. Even if there is no consensual agreement, at the societal level many parents will assert that the education of their children should not derogate from the central postulate of their lives. None of this precludes the type of research advocated by Greenfield. My conception of truth, with a few exceptions, includes those of Greenfield and of the positivists. That is to say, research of the type advocated by Greenfield, and of the type advocated by the positivists, is, for the most part, consistent with my conception of truth, provided that, as Greenfield argues, the value context is not ignored. Perhaps it would be appropriate at this point to comment briefly on the few exceptions to which I referred. I believe there is an ethical question involved in the
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appropriateness of research on how to implement programs effectively without permitting teachers, parents, and students to understand what is happening. The manipulation of people is not just a value question which should be taken into account, as Greenfield would have it, but it is a prior question that should govern the validity of the undertaking itself. In this example, two principles conflict. Positivists are apt to assume that the goal of objective truth outweighs other values, although even they concede there may be countervailing ethical considerations. In my view, teachers should be informed of the research on which the changes being imposed are based, and should equally be told if there is none, even though the consequence of such openness may be increased unwillingness to comply with instructions. The greater good of personal honesty comes before the need to know how best to implement policy. In this case, the good precedes the value of empirical experiment and that of personal, individualistic values. In sum, my view of truth goes well beyond that of Greenfield. Greenfield's view is the relativist one that each person's actions must be seen not only in the context of the setting but also in terms of the individual's values. Just as Greenfield argues that individuals act on personal beliefs, so I would generalize to the larger entity and argue that a sense of right and wrong is pervasive throughout society, and that supraindividual morality is of crucial importance in a field such as educational administration.
Disagreement about the Nature and Purpose of Study in the Field of Educational Administration Education is not a discipline of knowledge with its own rules of inquiry. It is not analogous with physics or zoology, or even with philosophy, sociology, psychology, and history--although it draws heavily from those last four disciplines. It is somewhat more analogous with medicine and divinity; medicine is concerned with people's physical health and freedom from disease, education with their intellectual, aesthetic, and social development (and more recently with most other aspects as well). Divinity is concerned with spiritual development. All three fields of study focus on the application of knowledge. Educational administration is at the applied end of an applied field; like industrial engineering perhaps, it is concerned with the application of applied knowledge. Some researchers in medicine confine themselves to basic research. These people are more likely to be biochemists than physicians; they seek, like Greenfield and the positivists, the discovery of objective truth. Basic researchers in medicine and education apply tools from basic disciplines, biology and chemistry in the case of medical research, history, philosophy, sociology, and psychology in the Ease of educational research, to a particular class of problems. I have no objection to this category of research in education and in educational administration, although, as I have already made clear, the truths likely to emerge, once the appropriate contexts of values have been imposed, are likely to be few and low-level. Even in medicine, based as it is on the physical and biological sciences, and to a lesser extent and much less helpfully on psychology, a large proportion of research is devoted to much more practical studies. Which drugs will have the most beneficial effects with the fewest side effects? Which surgical treatment will lead to the most rapid healing? Very often, medical discoveries are not fully understood until after the curative properties have been identified; that is, the explanation of events
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often follows their discovery. In some cases, explanations are not forthcoming even after the event--we do not know how A.S.A. reduces pain and why moderate use of alcohol is associated with fewer heart problems. Sometimes there are multiple, complementary, and contradictory explanations for the same events--one thinks for example of the causes of migraine and dyslexia, both of which are symptoms as much as they are diseases. So it is in educational administration. Administrators should be centrally concerned with the best education of the learners under their care. The study of educational administration then should not only be concerned with the discovery of knowledge and understanding as outlined by Greenfield, but with their application. What Greenfield prescribes for educational administration is equivalent to a background in anatomy and physiology for a medical doctor, or theology for a student of divinity. Without wishing to attenuate an overdue welcome to such disciplines as sociology, history, and philosophy, insofar as they impinge on our field, I find them insufficient. Just as physicians must learn the treatment of disease, as well as its physiological antecedents, so educational administrators should learn how to administer schools more effectively. That may sound perplexing, as if I have come full circle. Did I not begin by agreeing with Greenfield that not only are current theories of educational administration bad science but necessarily so? So I did, but that was outside the context of value. To continue my analogy, that would be like training doctors how to treat disease without first deciding whether we wanted the patient to live or die. Fortunately for doctors, their ethics have, until recently, been clear cut. Prolongation of life and prevention of disease are their central goals. But even in their case, value questions increasingly arise: How much extra pain and discomfort is justified by an extra month of life? Should the life support system be switched off a human vegetable if the organs may give continued life to others? In education, as Greenfield and I have illustrated, values are first and foremost. But, having decided what one is going to do, and why, one may find more effective ways of doing it. If, for example, a school wants to produce the greatest amount of individual excellence in achievement and character, there are probably some administrative techniques that will help always provided the values are genuinely held. There are probably ways in which the variation of achievement in schools can be reduced, ways in which gender differences in program preference can be eliminated, ways in which physical fitness and aesthetic expression can be enhanced. Many goods are compatible; some are not. Greenfield would have administrators discuss the choices and their implications, as would I. But I would go one step further and research the ways in the which the selected choices can best be made operational. The resulting research will be empirical as well as observational. And why not? To be sure, empirical research in education makes little sense if it claims to be value-free, but I make no such claim. Indeed, quite the reverse, school improvement should be based on a clear conception of the good. The problems and possibilities of empirical research can be illustrated by looking at the effective schools research. This is an area of personal interest; my bias toward it is positive. It is also an area in which there has been considerable success. Research in different countries in quite different school environments has resulted in very similar conclusions. Effective schools are associated with the following conditions: a climate of high academic expectations among students and
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teachers; a context of orderly, disciplined behavior based on the development of good character; systematic reward systems; universalistic standards for behavior; and regular monitoring of student achievement (see, for example, Brookover, 1982; McDill & Rigsby, 1973; Rutter et al., 1979; Wynne, 1980). What does this example tell us about the pitfalls and advantages of empirical research in educational administration? First, there is the obvious danger of hidden assumptions. The published research is restricted almost entirely to the study of two criteria of effectiveness: academic achievement as tested by tests and examinations; and manners and decorum, together with attendant values, as exhibited in school. If one believes, as I do, that schools should be centrally concerned with the development of character and of intellect, the variables used in the studies are not bad proxies. However, critics who believe that schools should be primarily concerned with personal development and fulfilment or with class consciousness and liberation will argue reasonably enough that the term "effective school" is a misnomer it should read "effective traditional school in the context of a stable, capitalist society." The values lying behind the criteria are frequently not explicit. Second, there is a more fundamental difficulty. The implicit idea behind research on effective schools is prescriptive. If the correlates of effectiveness can be established, then those factors found to be related to effectiveness may be introduced in ineffective schools with the object of making them more effective. That simple proposition immerses one in the whole problem of cause and effect. What does it mean to say that an academic climate of high expectations c a u s e s students to learn more? Does it mean that teachers monotonously stating that they expect more will automatically produce more? That is possible, but it seems to me unlikely. More likely is it that the variables associated with effective schools are proxies for a more deep-seated valuing of the goals which are the assumed criteria in effective schools studies; not proxies in the sense that household appliances in the home serve as proxies for social class in Coleman's studies of school effectiveness, but rather proxies in the form of symbolic, exemplary activities representing the underlying values. Teachers and administrators who genuinely believe in strong academic performance and virtue are more likely to produce those outcomes in learners than are those who believe in such different goals as the development of self-concept and self-fulfilment. The first goals are external, societal; the second set internal, individualistic. If I am right, then it makes sense for teachers valuing the first set of goals to emphasize rewards and sanctions, discipline, competition, externally derived ideas of the good, homework, and codes of behavior. The correlates of school effectiveness derive from the values implicit in the preconceived notion of the effective school. In all probability, administrators and teachers who behave consistently and authentically in terms of their beliefs are more effective than those who do not. But the belief is prerequisite to success. The implications of these arguments for implementing effective school reform are obvious. Implementation will be very difficult if the administrators concerned do not genuinely share an authentic view of the goals of traditional, effective schools. Implementing effective school reforms without that precondition will be about as successful as implementing a religious education program in a school staffed by atheists. Most of that second argument is speculative. The value of empirical research is precisely that it may tell us under what conditions schools may be made effective--providing we first state what it is we want them to effect.
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Future Directions for the Study of Educational Administration Greenfield concludes by suggesting that his research agenda will provide a basis for a true science, by which he means comprehensive knowledge, of educational administration. I share his distaste for the search for empirical theory but find insufficient solace in the prospect of comprehensive knowledge about an applied field. It is not enough that we know what doctors do and why they do it, or priests, or engineers. An applied field has a moral and a technical function to fulfil, as well as a scientific one. It is odd that Greenfield dwells so long and so eloquently on the importance of values in administration only to conclude by suggesting that knowledgeabout values is enough; to me, it is the particular choice of values made by administrators that is important. It is as though, after giving a son a long lecture on the importance of love as a basis for marriage, one were then to give him a text on the neurological and biochemical origins of sexual passion. If the only purpose of study of educational administration were to produce professors of educational administration, that approach might make sense, but students of administration are apt to become administrators, just as sons become lovers. I do not claim there is an easy solution to the problem. To what extent should we be teaching values and to what extent should we be teaching about values? Are we to have separate programs for administrators in private schools, and in traditional as distinct from progressive schools, like rival schools of divinity? Perhaps so. The lack of contemporary consensus in education makes for enormous problems. Greenfield avoids the problem as surely as do the empiricists. They act as though substance and purpose are independent of administration. Dr. Fix-It, fresh with organizational skills from Ohio State, can implement the change of a progressive school of the arts into a Catholic seminary, or, equally well, a military college into a school of psychotherapy for preadolescent parents---or so their texts would have us believe. Greenfield acknowledges the pre-eminence of values but then assumes fact and value can be neatly separated in the classroom. The real world is different. Value often precedes fact--the facts we perceive depend on the values we have. Our choices of what we read and view, in magazines, newspapers, television, all illustrate the dependence and interrelationship of fact and value. None of this would matter if we did not care what administrators do to schools. But some of us do. We want administrators to make schools better. It is more understandable that Greenfield avoids the technical function of a department of educational administration. He has demonstrated the poverty of a technocratic approach to administration. Very few general hypotheses in administration work "other things being equal," partly because other things never are equal and partly because they ought not to be. How often have I heard the refrain from principals, "I want all the Hawthorn effect I can get," and who but a scientific researcher can blame them? Nevertheless, if other things are not equal, if one does deliberately combine enthusiasm, sincerity, and authenticity with the implementation of complementary administrative reform, then it may well be possible to make improvements. Neither theory nor knowledge is a sufficient base for an educational administrator. Educational administrators should have knowledge of the field, they
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should have knowledge of the very limited technical skills we have, but above all they should have moral commitment.
References
Barrow, R. (1984). Giving teaching back to teachers. Brighton, Sussex: Wheatsheaf Books. Brookover, W. B. (1982). School learning climate and student performance. Aspects of Education, 27, 17-27. Fullan, M. (1982). The meaning of educational change. Toronto: OISE Press. Hoy, W. K., & Miskel, C. G. (1982). Educational administration: Theory, research and practice (second edition). New York: Random House. Maclntyre, A. (1981). After virtue. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. McDill, E. L., & Rigsby, L. C. (1973). Structure andprocess in secondary schools. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press. Rutter, M., Maughan, B., Mortimore, P., & Ouston, J. (1979). Fifteen thousand hours. London: Open Books. Shils, E. (1981). Tradition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wynne, E. A. (1980). Looking at schools: Good, bad and indifferent. Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath.