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An Analogy for Organizational Change
Childhood is rough when you have an older brother, a younger brother and a baby sister, who still serves as the proverbial princess of the family. Simply put, I suffer from middle child syndrome. My older brother’s favorite pastime was figuring out how to torture me and then cover it up like a BP oil spill.
Reflecting back, I’m confident that he was angling for some sort of merit badge for his mastery in inflicting the full range of pain sustainable from a rubber band. He mastered the rubber band gun, effortlessly managed the direct to skin rubber band snap, and he certainly excelled at rolling the rubber band through my hair, which at this point is completely to blame for my male pattern baldness.
So what does a rubber band have to do with the Instructional Influence? I recently read a great blog post about change and it was after some reflective thinking that I developed this crazy analogy between organizational change and a rubber band. http://dps109supt.edublogs.org/2013/09/22/our-students-deserve-transformational-change/
Imagine a rubber band that is stretched between two fixed points. The rubber band will be both straight and taut, with some tension left over to pull the rubber band to either the right or left. This taut and straight rubber band, anchored between two points, represents the organizational system. The ability to flex the rubber band should be considered an attempt at change. Releasing the tension exerted on the rubber band when pulling it to either the left or right results in the rubber band snapping back to the center position. The greater the push for change in the organizational system, the greater the tension that’s exerted on the rubber band to hold it away from center. This tension on the rubber band should be considered the organizational system resisting the force of change. This is completely natural and expected. It’s simple physics in my mind. An object in motion stays on that path until a force is exerted upon it to change. It takes energy to change and objects trudging along on a comfortable path don’t want forces exerted on them and will naturally resist.
This idea of change being difficult should be no secret to anyone, change is both uncomfortable and hard to sustain. It takes kinetic energy stored in the finger to hold the rubber band away from its natural tendency to be straight and taut between the two anchor points. Sustainable change requires enough energy and momentum to overcome the strain of the system to bring it back to center. Consider the necessary energy required to sustain change. The energy required to sustain any change is so critical that it needs to be affixed to a new anchor. With unwavering and fully anchored support now in three points, eventually the rubber band will lose much of its tension and succumb to a new shape defined by three anchor points, instead of two. However, one must acknowledge that any change be appropriately staged in such a manner that the initiative isn’t so drastic that it destroys and breaks the very make-up of the rubber band, in this case the rubber band serving as a physical example of the organizational system.
Breaking the rubber band was something my older brother never seemed to do. He knew how to inflict enough pain without doing damage to his weapon of choice. Although my anguish was his joy as a child, we are best friends as adults. Yesterday evening, I explained my comparison to him while enjoying the beautiful weather and he demanded that I explain to my four devoted readers that first and foremost, he still has no clue how I am able to draw a comparison between his poor decision making as a child and organizational change AND that if he had a rubber band handy, he would have rubbed it in my hair at the first available opportunity.
Disclaimer: I want to make sure that everyone understands that I don’t equate change with pain. My goal was to connect organizational change to the functionality of the rubber band, while infusing a humorous connection back to the trials and tribulations of my childhood.
The Power of “Thank You”
Oh, the power of “thank you.” My wife and I have been hammering home the power of please and thank you to our children since they were old enough to talk. And I’m not talking about the “please pass the mashed potatoes…thank you for passing the mashed potatoes” kind of thank you. Although deeply important to my perception of their future success in life, this surface level stuff is not the kind of thank you I’m getting at. I’m talking about the kind of thank you in which people feel a genuine sense of affection and gratitude when they hear it or the kind of thank you which can kick off a pay-it-forward mindset.
In our efforts to appropriately conform to social norms, we routinely make statements to each other that have lost all intended purposes of caring and sincerity. We restate some words or phrases because we have been Pavlovianly (a new word I just created and you can thank me later) trained to do so. For example, I am currently in my own private h*** thanks in large part to my friend, the ragweed. Between August and November, I’m convinced that I sneeze an average of 20 to 30 times a day. And I’m not talking about the kind of sneeze in which a person might squint a little bit and let a quick rasp of air out of their lungs. I’m talking about the kind of sneeze in which papers fly, windows rattle, and plants topple over; the kind of sneeze that scares a person with hiccups into no longer having hiccups.
We all know what we are supposed to do when a person sneezes, right? According to the educator despised purveyor of incorrect and unverified knowledge known as Wikipedia, in English-speaking countries, the common verbal response to another person’s sneeze is “(God) bless you” or the much less common “Gesundheit” (the German word for “health”) or “Salud” (the Spanish word for “health”). There are several proposed origins for the use “bless you” or “god bless you” in the context of sneezing. This includes beliefs that a sneeze could release one’s soul, thus leading to its possible capture by lurking evil spirits, or that the evil spirits could enter the body through the open mouth of a sneezing individual, or that the individual is sneezing out sins or evil spirits which had taken residence within the body and is thus in need of the blessing to prevent the exorcised spirits from re-entering the body.
Imagine the guilt I feel when 20 to 30 times a day a number of my colleagues feel compelled to bless me so that my soul doesn’t escape or that exorcised spirits don’t reenter my body. I beg them to stop blessing me because I don’t think blessings are equitably distributed to all coworkers in the office. Between August and November, I’m over blessed and unworthy of such care from my colleagues regarding the current state of my soul. All kidding aside, we are trained to say routine phrases that at one point in time were meant to hold deep sincerity and caring for the individual.
How did we let the terms please and thank you become routine? What happened to us that we can’t stop for a moment and express real sincerity when requesting something from another human and/or demonstrating gratitude when we receive something? And I’ll be the first to admit that I can and will fall victim to this problem.
If you want to see a teacher’s face light up, encourage a student to walk up to them after a lesson and simply state, “thank you for a good lesson today.” When was the last time you can remember hearing that? As adults, we should practice it as well. You know where I practice it? I do it in the most unlikely places. The next time you head out to the grocery store, look your bagger in the eye and just say “thanks for bagging my groceries.” You know what, my bread ended up on top of the other groceries and not underneath a two liter of orange soda. Keep an eye out for when the mailman comes through and give him a robust thank you for trudging through the weather conditions to deliver your mail. Guess whose sale ads aren’t hanging out of the mailbox in a downpour anymore? When you hear the rumble of the garbage truck coming down the road, toss a wave at the guys in green and let them know you appreciate the fact that they hauled away everything that could possibly stink up you house in the next 7 days. I no longer have to fetch my garbage can from underneath the oversized Chevy Suburban parallel parked across the street? Simply put, people appreciate a thank you. It goes a long way in relationship building and serves as an exercise in trust.
I’m writing this post because you’ll never guess who got to watch his 11 year old son walk up to his football coach, after being yelled at for the final 20 minutes of practice because he still can’t do a push-up correctly after 8 weeks and say, “Thanks for a great practice today coach.” The coach took him aside and spent 15 more minutes working with him one on one until he made the connection. Of all the things my children have learned in life thus far, I take pride in the fact that at this point in time, they are able to demonstrate appreciation for the efforts of others. Will it become mundane to them? The odds certainly point to yes. However, my kids may try to teach their kids the lesson that my wife and I are trying to teach them and to me, that is how the power of “thank you” has regained its meaning.
Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my blog.
Sidenote: I have always wondered why we say god bless you when someone sneezes but when they cough, we don’t even give them a second glance. Clearly, they are either expelling phlegm that has built up in their throat, which can lead to choking or their airway is so irritated that the simple act of breathing causes the lungs to convulse. Do we toss out a god bless you? Nope. We don’t even give them a “Hey, I hope you are able to continue breathing to sustain future life.” But if you have allergies and sneeze a lot, well then you’re destined for high standing in the afterlife because everybody and their brother tosses you a blessing. Weird…right?
The Relentless Pursuit of…Feedback
Today, a dear friend told me that my writing was verbose. I was unsure if I should take this a compliment or a criticism. If my writing is truly verbose then I suppose it is there to balance my inner yin and yang because I have come to learn that my face-to-face communication is best described as brief and to the point. I’m a walking dichotomy of communication.
I spent a good deal of time on the commute home from work today analyzing and reflecting on the feedback that I received and wondering exactly what I could do with this information to improve the messages that I want to share. Although, I could pull the collective written works of Dale Fisher and conduct an in depth analysis of my prose, I realized that what I really wanted to discuss was the very notion of feedback and how it affects teachers.
Teaching is not only a noble profession, it is also very unique. I am hard pressed to identify another profession in which a brand new member of an instructional team is expected to walk into their first day of work and perform at a level that is equivalent to veteran staff. Now, if you are both expected and able to perform at a high functioning level from the moment you begin your career, then it is certainly feasible to believe that after months and years of performing at that established level that the idea of growth may be poorly received. Sure, teachers will say the right things and inform evaluators that “every teacher can professionally grow and evolve into a better educator.” My experiences have shown me that the teacher wasn’t necessarily referring to themselves.
The ability to process feedback and reflect on our professional practice, without becoming either defensive or agitated, is a gift reserved for the very best in our profession. Good teachers are able to separate their ego from the information and determine what they want to do with the comments they receive. Not all feedback is 100% accurate and not all feedback needs to transform what the teachers practice. However, without a doubt, feedback is the perception that others have of your craft and it is data that should be considered.
The very best don’t wait for feedback, they actively pursue it. It’s not always easy to get feedback. It’s not generally asked for, and most people aren’t used to providing it. I mean, our mothers always taught us that if we didn’t have something nice to say, then we shouldn’t say anything at all. I was once told that the best feedback you can receive is specific, not general; focused on behavior, not on the individual; solicited rather than imposed; timely rather than delayed; and descriptive rather than evaluative. When requested, you have to be sincere in your desire to improve yourself, not celebrate yourself.
I can understand how it is easy to fear the exposure and vulnerability that can accompany direct and honest feedback. It’s a risk, but the upside of professional learning and growth far outweighs not knowing if what you are doing is actually working. Go after the feedback and if possible, apply it to improve your instruction. And that, my friends, is “The Instructional Influence.”
Disclaimer: Note that I avoided using the word “criticism” in this blog wherever possible. Criticism is a word that never has the effect that is desired. Even if you tack on the word “constructive” in front of this term, it still doesn’t have the intended result. It’s like prefacing an argument by stating “with all due respect.” Chances are, nothing respectful is going to come out of the argument if you have to tell them that you are extending respect. I realize that my disclaimer was probably verbose. I deeply apologize.
Becoming a Mobile Administrator
One of my favorite movie lines comes from “The Shawshank Redemption.” Red, a convicted felon, tells Andy Du
Fresne to either “get busy living or get busy dying.” For those administrators that are stuck working solely out of their office, let me give you a bit of advice, get busy working in classrooms or get busy finding a new profession. Times have changed my friends. The days of scheduling some face time a few weeks in the future is over.
Teachers expect visibility out of their leaders. Collaboration relies on a shared understanding of not only what the future holds for all stakeholders in the system but it also requires deep appreciation of what is currently taking place. This is impossible if the administrator is sealed up tighter than a nuclear waste drum headed off for a long nap in Yucca Mountain.
That being said, I understand that there are an overabundance of issues that need to be checked off of your to do list. Personally, I can’t walk away from my desk for more than five minutes without a new e-mail/voicemail/g-mail/snail mail/hate mail or another type of mail crossing my ultra high polished faux wood desk surface. Yet, I realized early in my career that these things were never going to go away. No matter how hard you work, these monotonous parts of the leadership position are going to remain a part of the job.
So what to do…what to do? Think differently my friends. We not only work in a technological revolution, we are embedded in it. Although there’s nothing wrong with a desktop computer (and please let me believe that you have a minimum of a desktop computer), I’m pretty confident that you probably have a Smartphone, access to a tablet, and potential to tap into a wireless connection. If this is the case, then you are well on your way.
First, learn how to forward calls. Although I am no phone installation expert, I can say that I haven’t worked for a school district in years that didn’t have the capability to forward phone calls. Forwarding calls allows you to still maintain access to those who need you, especially if you are expected to be available to parents and other stakeholders at all times. Sadly, I have been known to take this concept to the extreme and do the “double forward.” I’ll forward my desk calls to my work Smartphone and then forward my work Smartphone to my personal cell phone when the day is done and I want to field calls at home. Regardless, when you are in a classroom, teachers understand that you need to be accessible to others, as long as you are not doing a formal observation. Simply put, I have never received a surly look for being present at the point of instruction while needing to step out of the classroom to take a call.
Disclaimer: Make sure you put your phone on vibrate or mute.
Next, either learn the power of apps for your tablet or iPad or begin to haul around a laptop. With so many school districts allowing wireless connections in the classrooms, you can literally have access to your e-mail and computer files while sitting next to a third grader who is learning the finer points of butterfly metamorphosis. For comedy purposes alone, spend some quality time observing third graders learn to pronounce chrysalis. A part of the role of the instructional leader is to be present for learning but also don’t hesitate to inform the teacher that you are working remotely via their classroom. You know what they are going to tell you? “No problem, thanks for being in my class and being visible.” You don’t always to have to be in full schmooze mode. Not only will teachers be thankful that their instructional leader is present but that you are modeling how to roll up your sleeves and get some work done.
Next, invest both financially and professionally in the power of “apps” to make your job easier. I have been able to avoid the nee
d to download Angry Birds, Candy Crush, and Temple Run. What I can’t shake is my addiction for buying “efficiency apps.” For example, if you’re in the buildings, teachers will typically ask for a minute of your time. This usually means that you’ll need to follow-up on something. To avoid forgetting what I said I would do, I found a wonderful To Do List app that I use to keep these tasks stored away until I can address them, I also use Siri to load these blurbs into the app. I also found a little gem that allows me to have multiple alarms notify me each day so I can stay on top of everyday tasks that I don’t want to clutter up my calendar; think traffic duty, lunch supervision, or a standing meeting with your administrative assistant. There are also evaluation apps that allow you to enter informal observation data that can be quickly e-mailed to the teacher you have joined. There is no more need to dictate a memo on what was working and what wasn’t working in the classroom and for the record, I have never dictated a memo. This list could go on and on, so I’ll end it there. However, I challenge you to explore what’s out there to make your work style easier.
At a minimum, use class time to bolster the power of your PLN. Hop onto either Twitter or Google+ and share what’s going on. If you are building a following in your district, this helps celebrate great instruction in the classroom and serves as opportunities to pick up a few cool things to share with your followers as well. For those who worry about the perception of abusing work time, I can tell you about a couple of Professional Development Conferences that exist in which little professional learning ever takes place. I’m a true convert on the power of Twitter and my mind is boggled by the amount of professional growth taking place via this service each and every day. It’s the instructional leader’s job to stay on top of professional learning. Twitter provides that capability in small and easily digestible doses. In turn, I like to share what I discover with my followers.
Finally, I once worked with a colleague who was convinced that the best bit of advice he could give a budding leader was to teach them to extend their arm out and swipe everything that piled up on the desk into a garbage can when they get back to their office. “If it was important, it’ll come back around again.” Two things came from that relationship, he is no longer employed and I learned that advice from unemployed instructional leaders should not be followed. Seriously though, if you worried about what stacks up when you are gone, my advice is to always stay ahead of the pile. When something touches my desk it quickly gets sorted into one of three mental positions; act on the document ASAP, scan the document so it can be electronically filed and accessed later when I am in a classroom, or delegate it/trash it as needed. Very little sits on my desk. In fact, anything that does sit on my desk causes me anxiety. What is the result of this system, high organization and quick turnaround time and how is that a bad thing?
Now, don’t let me fool you, there were points in my leadership career where the level of mobility described in this blog was far easier than others, and I also realize that there are times when your office is the best way to get some things completed. Think of what I am proposing as establishing a new balance in your work style and I don’t mean a 50/50 split. These suggestions are not meant to convince you to ditch your office. They should serve as some viable options to help you replant your posterior into a classroom. Remember, in today’s framework for leadership, if you don’t push yourself to be visible and near the point of instruction then your knowledge of what is taking place in the classrooms becomes limited and your reputation as a leader will suffer. Becoming both visible and knowledgeable of the singular focus of schools; the instruction in the classroom is “The Instructional Influence.”
Personal Reflections from New Teacher Orientation
I’m often asked what it is that I miss most about being in a school. Without hesitation, the answer has been and always will be the students. Working with our group of new teachers over the last week has reminded me how painful it is at times to be away from who I work so hard to support in my current role as the Director of HR. Although I knew my calling in life was to ensure that our stewards of tomorrow were being prepared today, I also quickly came to the realization that my impact had the potential to be further reaching if I could step outside of the classroom and help lead the teachers who would be on the front lines.
However, moving away from both the classroom role and the instructional leadership piece at the building level has caused a great struggle; I simply am around students less and less. Sure, I am regularly in the various buildings to meet with staff and administrators about various issues and evaluate instruction, but do I have that relationship with the students in “my building” that I once had; not even close. I miss the students. There’s no easier way to put it.
So what motivates me? Knowing that I am doing everything in my power to support the students in our schools by providing them with teachers, leaders, and support staff members that are second to none motivates me. I am reminded of this when I get to spend three days supporting our new teachers and feeling their excitement and hopes for that special connection that can be made with their students. They are the ones who will be carrying out the role of both guide and leader to the children, and they’ll be cut loose after today to do what we hired them to do. Frankly, I’m quite confident that they’ll do it well.
But I ask both them and all other new teachers, to stop and reflect on a regular basis about why you made the decision to enter this field. Are you making a deep and meaningful difference with your students and if not, what is it that you could be doing differently. Set aside the external factors that are never going to go away. When you leave your school at the end of the day, did you do everything in your power to have an impact on a child? This doesn’t mean that you gave assignments, conveyed knowledge, and proctored assessments. It means that a student is going to go home and share their excitement with their family that they not only learned something, but embraced the very notion of how they learned it. The type of learning that is never lost and can be remembered well into adulthood is what I’m talking about. When you can experience that joy through the eyes of a child and know that you were an active participant in that learning process, then you are part of the “Instructional Influence.”
An Instructional Leadership Lesson from Dwight Eisenhower
Admittedly, I can’t remember where I heard the following story, but it impacted me enough to make a note about it years ago and share it with colleagues.
When Dwight Eisenhower had the opportunity to train his generals before he became president, he used the following activity to remind them about the power of systemic thinking. After gathering everyone in a room, he would bring in a rather heavy and long steel chain. General Eisenhower would gather all of the links and pile them up in the center of the room on a sturdy table. Next, he would ask his generals to take a long hard look at the chain pile and ask them to predict where specific links on the chain would move if they were to try and push the pile. The generals would think about it and attempt to examine the systemic effects of their actions but in the end they were reluctant to give an answer because there were so many variables in the links that could not be controlled. Specifically, there was always an overwhelming number of links that were just too difficult to predict because they were attached to other links with both a lot of weight on top of them and the potential for collapse underneath them. I mean, just think of what would happen if the middle of the chain started to slip and hang over the edge of the table. You know where this is going; the whole pile suddenly begins to spill to the ground.
Eisenhower made sure his generals understood that pushing the chain pile, without a deep understanding of the internal variables that act on the chain, was an approach that could not work. Who can truly predict all of the variables that are contained in a bundle of chain links where one nudge on any given link can cause a ripple effect that could end in a potential collapse of the pile.
Next he asked what would happen if he pulled the chain. He asked them to accurately predict the piles movement if he was to find any link in the chain; the beginning, the end, or even the middle and begin to pull. Obviously, this was a much easier question for the generals to answer and he would go on to gently pull and maneuver the chain around the table, onto the floor, around various chairs in the room. Essentially, he was the navigator of an organized system. He also emphasized that you didn’t need to do this from either the beginning or the end of the chain; he demonstrated that he could link himself with the center and navigate its movement from there as well. You can understand that the chain is still moving in the same orchestrated manner. He also went on to show that he could grab at numerous points in the chain and that they would follow just as the single point in the middle, the beginning and the end, all with decreased effort on his part.
He wanted his generals to understand that they shouldn’t waste effort pushing the chain when it is obvious that there are so many unpredictable factors that could cause it to collapse. He wanted each general to metaphorically link themselves to the chain and navigate it. In fact if they should become linked to multiple points in the chain, they’ll end up decreasing their effort to move the chain.
I have shared this story with a few leaders that I have mentored over the years and as a result of this example, I want to make sure that the readers understand that this is not a story about pulling a system along or the following the “chain of command.” This is a story about understanding what it takes to move a system. It can’t be done without carefully considering the subtleties and nuances of the system and understanding the effects that unplanned actions have on the system .
How Many Teachers Had a Meaningful Impact on You?
Recently, during an administrative retreat, twenty-four administrators and I were asked to complete a simple task. We were directed to reflect on the classroom instruction we received as children, beginning from kindergarten through our senior year of high school. Within that time frame, we were to share with the rest of the group the total number of teachers that we felt had a meaningful impact on us in the classroom. With no rubric for determining the number and no real criteria for defining “meaningful impact,” every person in the room shared their number. The numbers ranged from three to seven. Pause for dramatic effect and allow me to say that again, three to seven.
Do the math with me. If you count your kindergarten teacher through your 5th grade teacher you’re sitting on a sub-total of six teachers right there. Add in the teachers who instruct in art, music, PE, and other elementary school courses and your number may jump to ten or eleven based on whether or not those teachers taught you over multiple grade levels. Move to the middle school and you’re looking at six or seven different teachers per year. If you added in teachers from your high school years, you could be looking at eight to nine different teachers per year. As a group, we estimated that the typical student would work with a minimum of 65 different teachers from kindergarten through high school. However, we admitted that the number is probably higher.
How do you feel about the range of responses our group provided now? What is your number?
Admittedly, there are times when I become distracted by simple statements that have a profound effect on me and I dwell on them. In this case, the presentation had moved well beyond the topic at hand and I couldn’t let this concept go. In my current role as the Executive Director of Human Resources, I oversee the evaluation of staff in our district. I couldn’t help but connect the admittedly arbitrary number of teachers who had a meaningful impact on my education to the ratings that teachers receive for their performance in the classroom. We all know that the data is pretty clear on the evaluation ratings that teachers earn in this country; the ratings are pretty high. Yet, our group openly acknowledged that an overwhelming majority of the teachers who worked with us as children did not have a meaningful impact on us.
How could this be? Shouldn’t every educator strive to have a meaningful impact on every child under their charge? Shouldn’t this be something that we try to assess? Before that takes places, shouldn’t we want to figure out how to measure meaningful impact? I mean, as an adult, if I can take 30 seconds to reflect on the education I received and then share with my colleagues that five teachers had a meaningful impact on me, then shouldn’t I examine this a little further?
Without a doubt, the area in education that I am most passionate about is not instructional strategies. Before you send my name into the education police and demand that my license be revoked, let me explain why. Instructional strategies will always be secondary to the most important aspect of education in my mind; relationships. I realized this truth as a teacher, reinforced it through mentoring as a team leader, evaluated and hired for it as a principal, and actively chase after it and try to model it as the director of human resources.
The creation of powerful relationships should be at the heart of the teacher’s work in the classroom. Without it, to what degree does the teacher feel they are truly impacting their students with the instruction they provide? Sure, material can be shared and students can respond with answering questions, completing homework and demonstrating growth through assessments. Yet, I’m left wondering to what depth learning could be attained and retained if teachers routinely focused on the quality of the relationship they have with their students? In my opinion, the amount of money educational systems spend on instructional strategies could be significantly reduced if we would put a little more money into helping our educators hone their relationship building skills.
Take a moment and think back to the number of teachers you had when I asked you the question, “how many teachers had a meaningful impact on you?” What made those teachers different from the others who almost assuredly led you through over a hundred well-crafted lessons in any given year? Was it the relationship that they had with you?
If you can’t remember the details of why you selected those teachers who had a meaningful impact on you, look carefully at the relationships in your workplace right now. Is it at all possible that your level of effectiveness in your current employment is somehow linked to how well you relate not only to your coworkers but also your assistant principal, principal, and/or superintendent?
During interviews, I like to ask the following question, “This is yes or no question with an opportunity to explain why afterwards. Without using the word respect, is it important if your students like you?” I make sure I tell the candidates that they can’t use the word respect because they tend to avoid giving a yes or no answer and instead they explain why a respectful relationship is most important.
The answer I am looking for is that it is absolutely important that students like their teacher. Students that relate well to their teachers and enjoy being in their classes do so because the teachers create an environment in which the students feel comfortable and ready to learn. This has nothing to do with being a personal friend to a student. However, it does mean that the teacher knows enough about their students to ensure that they enjoy learning in their classroom. The end result is that these teachers have a profound impact on their students, the type of impact that students will remember well into their adulthood. In fact, it’s the type of impact that experienced educators, sitting around a table with coffee mugs in hand, reflect on as they identify those who had the most meaningful impact on them.
Cutting edge instructional strategies, curriculum packages, and textbook adoptions never address this critical component. If you don’t figure out how to relate to your students in an impactful way, the knowledge that you want to share with them just doesn’t have the effect it should.
And that, my friends, is “The Instructional Influence.”
The Instructional Influence 