It’s not About the Data:

The Evolution of a Clinical Supervision Curriculum and Pedagogy

Duncan Waite, Ph.D.

Education and Community Leadership Program
EAPS
Texas State University – San Marcos
San Marcos, Texas 78666 USA
dw26@txstate.edu
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“Human life, Bakhtin ([1940] 1984) reminds us, is polyphonous and multivocalic; it is made up
of the voices of many, each one brought to life and made significant by others, only sometimes
being the same, more often by being different, more dramatically by being contradictory.”
Varenne and McDermott (1999, p. 137)

In a faculty meeting not too long ago, a colleague, himself a supervision author,

questioned me as to how I could teach my instructional supervision courses using Acheson and

Gall’s (1992) techniques of classroom observation; especially in light of, as he saw it, my post-

modern sensibilities (S. Gordon, personal communication). In my heart, I knew why, but

explaining it in terms he could understand escaped me at the moment. Later, when teaching one

of my graduate classes in supervision, the phrase that explained everything for me, that tied it all

together, simply spilled out of my mouth: It’s not about the data!1

I’ve been teaching instructional supervision at the university level for nearly twenty

years, ever since graduating with a doctorate in curriculum and supervision. Through trial and

error, and through reflecting upon my beliefs and nascent theories, and by being cognizant of

students’ interests, reactions and growth, I’ve evolved (/am evolving) a different approach to

teaching instructional supervision, one that weds more integrally the twin aspects of classroom

observation and conferencing with teachers. A substantial part of my graduate program of study

dealt with clinical supervision.2 I studied with both Keith Acheson and Meredith “Mark” Gall,

authors known in the field of supervision for their book, Techniques in the Clinical Supervision
1
I saw parallels between this concept and the title of Lance Armstrong’s (Armstrong & Jenkins,

2000) book, It’s not About the Bike.

2
Another facet of my program of studies was a concentration in qualitative research methods,

under the tutelage of Harry Wolcott.

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of Teachers (Acheson & Gall, 1997). I took other classes in instructional supervision taught by

other faculty and with other texts as readings; one class had Glickman’s (1985) Supervision of

Instruction: A Developmental Approach as required reading3; another class was led by David J.

Flinders, in which we studied Responsive Teaching (Bowers & Flinders, 1990) and early drafts

of its companion, Culturally Responsive Teaching and Supervision (Bowers & Flinders, 1991). (I

3
The professor who taught this class used what I believe to be the worst and lowest-level

instructional approach to the course: He divided up the book’s chapters among groups of students

in the class and made them responsible for “teaching” their assigned chapter to the rest of the

class. Though my years of university teaching, I’ve come to see this instructional strategy used

by adjuncts and other professors who are teaching a class out of their field or who are otherwise

unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the material. I admit that this experience may have contributed

to my lack of enthusiasm for the Glickman approach.

My impressions of the so-called Glickman model of supervision were further shaped by

my years teaching at the University of Georgia, a program that was the heir to a long and

venerable tradition of supervision done throughout the state of Georgia. In fact, the position I

held had once been held by Johnny V. Cox—a grande dame of Georgia supervision, inherited by

me through the retirement of my esteemed predecessor, Edith Grimsley. In my turn, I’ve passed

the position on to my esteemed colleague Sally Zepeda. The curriculum of the supervision

program that I encountered in existence at the University of Georgia (and that which Carl

Glickman encountered before me when he hired on early in his career) was nearly identical to

that which Glickman proposed in his model. Since even before Glickman, the course work

offered by the department included, besides work in curriculum (it was, after all, The Department

of Curriculum and Supervision), courses in instructional supervision, staff development,

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had taken numerous classes with C. A. “Chet” Bowers in my post-graduate studies during the

period in which he incubated many of the ideas and themes in both these books.)

Developing a Pedagogy of Clinical Supervision

Through various iterations of teaching the graduate class in supervision, I’ve

experimented with the adoption of several different texts. (Though, I must say, I’ve never

adopted the Glickman [1985] text or the subsequent editions with co-authors Stephen Gordon

and Jovita Ross-Gordon [Glickman, Gordon & Ross-Gordon, 2001, 2004, 2007, 2010]; in fact,

when I hired onto the faculty where Steve Gordon teaches and was given the opportunity to teach

supervision, I asked him if he would mind if I didn’t use their text, as, at that time, program

faculty had adopted it for three or four different courses—curriculum, action research, etc.)

Through the years, I’ve adopted the Sullivan and Glanz (2000) supervision text and the Nolan

and Hoover (2003) text. I’ve kept only certain aspects of each, including some of the Glickman

text, but the only supervision text that I currently require my students buy is one by Pajak (2003),

Honoring Diverse Teaching Styles: A Guide for Supervisors. (I don’t even require students to buy

my book [Waite, 1995]. I borrow from it as well.)

The aspects I keep from the Glickman (1985) text are his supervisory behaviors—the

directive, the collaborative, and the non-directive supervisory behaviors; though I tell my

students that there are problems with this prescription/description of supervisory behaviors. I tell

my students that, though commonsensical, there is no empirical evidence to support the model.

(As a member of the Board of Reviewers for the Journal of Teacher Education, I had the

opportunity to review, anonymously, a scholarly manuscript submitted for consideration for that

curriculum development, and group development. The difference between the program’s

offerings and the Glickman model came in his addition of action research in his list of the tasks

of supervision.
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journal wherein the authors, with Glickman’s permission, sought to validate the model

empirically, but they had difficulty doing so.) Likewise, I tell my students that the only reason I

share this behavioral continuum with them is that it’s a place to start, but I beseech them to go

further and not get stuck at that elementary level. (Unfortunately, and despite my best efforts,

some students never move beyond this level in their thinking [and their practice].)

When I originally adopted the Sullivan and Glanz (2000) text, I did so without

previewing it, simply on the strength of the reputation of the authors and my knowledge of them.

However, in implementing and using it, I came to realize that many, if not all, of the classroom

observation techniques that they suggest are, in essence, simply checklists. Upon further

investigation, and to my chagrin, I noticed that they adopted many of these same observation

checklists from the Glickman, Gordon and Ross-Gordon texts! Today, I simply use one of the

observation protocols (the so-called ‘Tailored Tools’ instrument) and Sullivan and Glanz’

exercise in developing a supervisory vision statement.

Shortly after I discovered that Sullivan and Glanz (2000) borrowed several of their

observation protocols from Glickman et al. (2001, 2004, 2007, 2010), and that they were little

more than checklists, I wrote Gordon and Glickman an email expressing my concern. They were

in the process of preparing a new edition of their textbook and I hoped they would take my

advice and make changes/improvements in two fundamental areas of their text: observation and

conferencing.4
4
Putting it this way—as issues having to do with observation and conferencing—causes me to

realize that these really are fundamental issues I have with the authors and their text. Gordon

reminds us faculty that his is the best-selling supervision textbook on the market, but we must

keep in mind the distinction between popularity and quality. The text may be popular because it’s

simple and easy for many to both understand and to do, but in simplifying the complexities, it
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I had two fundamental criticisms of their approach, which I shared with them. First, the

supervisory behaviors they offered in their book were not based on any empirical evidence. I had

done much more extensive empirical work on supervisory conferences (Waite, 1992, 1993, 1995)

and suggested that they at least familiarize themselves with my work, and, at best, use the

findings from my research to inform the newest edition of their text.

The second major criticism I had of the Glickman et al. (2001, 2004, 2007, 2010)

approach was that the classroom observation techniques, protocols or instruments that they

offered represented a regression, a throwback to the days of administrative monitoring, before

the advent of clinical supervision. My argument is this: Prior to the development of clinical

supervision (Cogan, 1973; Goldhammer, 1969), school administrators monitored teachers and

their classrooms, generally using, if they used anything at all, a checklist. Clinical supervision, in

contrast, provided supervisors with some ways to generate, analyze (sometimes in concert with

the teacher) and discuss rich classroom data. One of the problems with supervisor or

administrator checklists and similar techniques is that the classroom occurrences are rendered

meaningless though the process of data reduction and context stripping: Complex classroom

interactions are represented by a tick mark on a pre-determined list of things thought to matter.

Also, the supervisor or administrator using a checklist must, of necessity, make an assessment

(and analysis and interpretation) that this or that occurrence fits into such-and-such a box. Such

reductionism, assessment and categorization objectify, reify and concretize the original

occurrence(s), making them inaccessible. In becoming objects and reified like this, the

interactions or other classroom occurrences are now impervious to refutation or contestation by

the teacher. Since there is nothing resembling anything like raw descriptive data, the

administrator’s tick mark, his/her judgment of the incident, stands as uncontested and

likely becomes miseducative.

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uncontestable fact—end of discussion. My overtures and suggestions fell on deaf ears: Glickman

et al. never incorporated my suggestions in subsequent revisions of their textbook.

A Watershed Moment

A major shift in the way I teach my graduate supervision classes came through reflection.

I realized, as a cultural anthropologist (and this is what that same professor who ‘taught’

Glickman’s book by dividing it among the students used to call ‘the blinding flash of the

obvious’), that our university assessments (especially those with an oral or spoken component—

class presentations, comprehensive exams, oral defenses, etc.) are more about form than they are

about substance. Even written work is judged on form (syntax, e.g.). Yet, it occurred to me, in

our graduate classes we never explicitly teach, say, oral communication or work on presentation

skills, but we make judgments about students and what they know based on these. Especially

since my research was in teacher-supervisor verbal interaction (Waite, 1992, 1993, 1995), I

resolved to concentrate more on the supervision conferences and help students improve on their

interactional skills and dialogue.

Keith Acheson (1985) used to say that the trick wasn’t so much in learning and applying

the observational techniques, the more difficult part was in giving feedback. I adapted others’

suggestions based on what I thought to be best for the students in front of me and the teachers

with whom they would work. I made use of the resources of our college, and added to all this my

knowledge of teacher-supervisor interaction to develop what I think is the most responsive,

reflexive and state-of-the-art approach to teaching and doing supervision. First, I made some

modifications to the conferencing techniques of both Acheson and Gall (1992, 1997) and

Glickman (1985), by, first adding a reading in dealing with teachers of diverse personalities and

learning styles (Pajak, 2003).

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Interactional Processes in Conference

Acheson and Gall (1992, 1997) suggest that supervisors begin the post-conference asking

teachers how they felt about the lesson. From my research I know this to be a poor strategy (if,

that is, one of the goals of the process is to get the teacher to open up, to encourage him/her to

articulate). It’s a poor strategy because it sets off an S-T-S-T-S-T-S chain of interaction (where S

represents the supervisor and T the teacher). I liken dyadic interactions to tennis matches or ping-

pong games—volleying back and forth, back and forth. If the supervisor starts, especially if

he/she starts with a question, the floor comes back to him/her. In such interaction patterns, the

teacher seldom gets a free, unencumbered turn at the floor to introduce a new topic of his or her

choosing (Waite, 1995). Better to start with a statement (Scollon & Scollon, 1986). The other

major change I make in Acheson and Gall’s post-conference questions is, rather than having my

supervision students ask the teacher what he/she would change about the lesson; I have them ask

if there is anything that the teacher would change. (The latter permits the possibility that there is

nothing that the teacher would change. The former implies a negative evaluation of the lesson

and that there is something that needs to be changed.)

As mentioned above, I introduce Glickman’s (1985) supervisory behavior continuum as a

place for my students to start, but ask and encourage them transcend that elemental way of

seeing teacher-supervisor interactions. Students practice those behaviors in class using role play.

(We borrow the cut outs of the steps from the Sullivan and Glanz [2000] text for students to use

as cheat-sheets.) Students read from Pajak’s (2003) description of diverse teacher styles and I

have students, grouped in triads, query each other on their Myers-Briggs profile and Pajak’s

clinical dialect preference. If the students haven’t taken the Myers-Briggs, I have them do this

here, at this point. I have them complete Pajak’s exercise on their clinical dialect preference. I
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then have them share out both profiles to the members of their small group, generally in groups

of four. I do this so that, first, they might get a sense of the diverse styles in the abstract, and,

second, so that they might associate a particular style with someone, a classmate in this case,

who exhibits some of the characteristics of a particular, perhaps different, style.

All the while, I am introducing students to observational techniques. We start with

Wood’s (1992) teaching narratives to encourage those learning supervision to inquire about the

deep passion that has lead teachers to teaching. Tapping into this passion is a powerful engine for

professional development. I introduce a different observational technique from the Acheson and

Gall (1992, 1997) list each week—selective verbatim, verbal flow, at-task, class traffic, anecdotal

record. I insert the ‘tailored tools’5 from the Sullivan and Glanz’ (2000) text and my own null

technique (Waite, 1995). I have students record their interactions with teachers for later critique

and feedback in class.

An innovation I developed takes advantage of our department’s counseling clinic—a

group of private rooms, each with a table and two or three chairs. These rooms are wired for

video and sound and this feeds into a central monitoring station, with about ten monitors. I do

this at the mid-point of the semester and for three consecutive sessions to ensure that these

supervision students have had experience observing and conferencing with teachers as a

foundation upon which to build. Students choose one member of their triad to be monitor. The

other two take the recording one of the students has brought and talk about it isolated in one of

the counseling clinic rooms. The student presenting his/her conference with a teacher acts as the

‘teacher’ in this case (the presenting case), the colleague acts as a ‘supervisor’ (analyzing, giving

feedback or not using, initially, one of the supervisory behaviors). Later, after working through

the case, the student who had been monitoring the duo returns and, in his/her own way, gives
5
Of these, students find the teacher-pupil interaction protocol (p. 98) especially useful.
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feedback to the duo and/or prompts them to reflect on and articulate their thinking about the

dialogue they just had. They may practice the supervisory behaviors introduced earlier, if they’d

like. Students rotate roles over the next three class sessions, each in turn acting as ‘teacher’

(presenter), ‘supervisor’ (listener-reactant) and monitor (critic or coach).

All together, supervision students are asked to perform eight classroom observations (the

additional observation is a free choice once students have been introduced to all the techniques).

Students are introduced in a progressive, cumulative fashion to, first, Glickman’s (1985)

supervisory behaviors, Pajak’s (2003) clinical dialects, and my own research into the structures

and interactional processes of supervisory conferences (Waite, 1995). I provide an overview of

supervision and alternative approaches.

As to the number of observations, Steve Gordon (personal communication, September 2,

2008) criticized me in a program faculty meeting during a discussion of how each teaches the

supervision course, saying, “I heard that you have students do eight clinical cycles. That’s too

much!” My reply to him at the time was, “It’s not like it’s an inoculation; since it’s process we’re

working on, most don’t get it in one shot.”

The Null Technique

As to the numbers of observations I have students do and the developmental nature of the

interpersonal processes of giving feedback: Through this process, students gain confidence in

both domains, if not increased skill. One of the observational techniques I ask students to

perform is one of my own invention (Waite, 1995), one I term the null technique:

observation of a classroom by a supervisor . . . where no explicit data gathering technique

is used. Rather than risking reification of the supervisor’s perceptions through the process

of objectifying complex classroom contexts and occurrences as ‘data,’ the dialogic

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supervisor or peer observer becomes a witness to a teaching episode in order to enter into

a dialogue with that teacher. (p. 127)

I introduce this technique only after students have completed several others. As part of

the course, I have students write one-page reflections on each of the observations they do and the

conferences they engage in. Over the past two years, I have collected students’ reflections of

their perceptions of and experiences with the null technique. The student comments below

highlight comparisons with other observation techniques and the freeing effect of having no data

per se to influence the conference or conversation between teacher and practicing supervisor.

One student wrote:

Initially, I did not know if I would really like using this technique because I felt like I

should have some data to share with the teacher. After reflecting on our post-conference, I

see how this technique worked very well, and specifically with this teacher. First of all,

[teacher] is a phenomenal teacher and this technique did provide her an opportunity to

talk through her decisions as well as some of her beliefs. It felt like a conversation

between two teachers rather than a technique for instructional supervision. I believe this

technique is probably the least invasive (for the teacher being observed) of all the . . .

techniques we practiced this semester.

Another commented how:

I noticed a mental shift in how I perceive the classroom. Even though I was focused

during the observation, I felt as though I could see the “big picture” more clearly.

One student came away feeling:

When I left, I knew we had an intimate conversation that allowed her to reflect on her

abilities rather than her weaknesses.

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Of the teacher’s impressions of this process, one supervision student said:

After our discussion, I asked him if he liked this method. He felt it was less intrusive and

more open to him just thinking through his ideas. I agree; I felt this method was more laid

back and almost just two teachers talking than the other methods. I really like this method

for allowing a teacher to feel comfortable with me in the classroom, but also when a

teacher just isn’t sure what he/she needs in terms of data.

Another student, a lead teacher in her school commented:

. . . this time was more relaxed. It seemed more authentic on the part of the teacher. I had

the same feeling in the post-conference. We were able to visit more casually, but the

conversation still centered on the lesson. By asking how she felt it went and letting her

talk, more information came out than if I had initiated the conversation with what I saw

or thought. Overall, I felt that this technique was very relaxing and generated great

discussion that will lead to teacher advancement, but also opened doors for other focuses

in future observations.

Yet another supervision student noted how:

Today I used the null technique while observing [teacher’s] class. It felt very different not

collecting written data; however, I felt that I got a better feel for the overall lesson. I also

felt more open during the post-conference. I found that I listened more, and our

conversation covered more possibilities for improving her lesson. . . . I have enjoyed

learning all of the techniques and can see where they are all important. I really felt that

not focusing on one specific type of data helped me allow [teacher] the freedom to reflect

more.
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These are a small sample of the student reflections, and, admittedly, reflections of those

who appeared able to “get it,” to both see the advantages of the approach and to realize them in

practice. There were others. Many of these graduate students, who were simultaneously

experienced teachers, instructional coaches and leaders, saw the nuances surrounding the

approach. They perceived that this technique might not work with every teacher at every point of

his/her professional career. Indeed, many had the following reaction from teachers they were

observing when they told them of this technique:

This observation was difficult to explain to [teacher]. When I told her that I was going

to come by to observe but not take any notes or data, she asked, “Why? What’s the

point?”

Another noted how:

This is one of the most interesting observations I did. At the pre-conference I explained to

[teacher] I would not be collecting data, and she asked, “So what is the purpose of that?”

Conclusion

In addition to freeing up the conference, use of the null technique by the supervisor or

coach frees him or her during the observation. As I discussed elsewhere (Waite, 1995),

observation exacts a heavy cognitive toll. Observing while recording exacerbates the problem.

We now have numerous studies (Pennebaker, 2009), that show the popular conception of multi-

tasking to be a myth: People are incapable of performing multiple simultaneous tasks equally

well. Relieving the supervisor from the task of simultaneously observing and documenting

something can permit him or her to better focus on the lesson and the classroom interactional

processes. Then, in the conference, as the student testimonials above illustrate, not having data to

report, to justify, explain or defend, the dialogue has more of a chance of being one between
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equals, peers and colleagues, each having been witness to the proceeding lesson, though from

different positions, and each genuinely attempting to understand the other’s perspective. What

better way to further professional dialogue?

Is the null technique a panacea? No, but if used judiciously, it can wed the best of

supervisory observation to the highest goals of the supervisory conferences—self-directed

teacher growth, unimpeded by the supervisor’s agenda.

References

Acheson, K. A. (1985). Class notes.

Acheson, K. A., Gall. M. D. (1992). Techniques in the clinical supervision of teachers:

Preservice and inservice applications (3rd ed.). New York: Longman

Acheson, K. A., Gall, M. D. (1997). Techniques in the clinical supervision of teachers:

Preservice and inservice applications (4rd ed.). New York: Longman.

Armstrong, L., & Jenkins, S. (2000). It’s not about the bike: My journey back to life. New York:

Putnam.

Bowers, C. A., & Flinders, D. J. (1990). Responsive teaching: An ecological approach to

classroom patterns of language, culture. New York: Teachers College Press.

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Bowers, C. A., & Flinders, D. J. (1991). Culturally responsive teaching and supervision: A

handbook for staff development. New York: Teachers College Press.

Cogan, M. L. (1973). Clinical supervision. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.

Glickman, C. D. (1985). Supervision of instruction: A developmental approach. Boston: Allyn

and Bacon.

Glickman, C. D., Gordon, S. P., & Ross-Gordon, J. M. (2001). Supervision and instructional

leadership: A developmental approach (5th ed.). Boston: Allyn and Bacon.

Glickman, C. D., Gordon, S. P., & Ross-Gordon, J. M. (2004). Supervision and instructional

leadership: A developmental approach (6th ed.). Boston: Allyn and Bacon.

Glickman, C. D., Gordon, S. P., & Ross-Gordon, J. M. (2007). SuperVision and instructional

leadership: A developmental approach (7th ed.). Boston: Allyn and Bacon.

Glickman, C. D., Gordon, S. P., & Ross-Gordon, J. M. (2010). SuperVision and instructional

leadership: A developmental approach (8th ed.). Boston: Allyn and Bacon.

Goldhammer, R. (1969). Clinical supervision: Special methods for the supervision of teachers.

New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston.

Nolan, J., & Hoover, L. A. (2003). Teacher supervision and evaluation: Theory into practice.

Hoboken, NJ: Wiley.

Pajak, E. F. (2003). Honoring diverse teaching styles: A guide for supervisors. Alexandria,

VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.

Pennebaker, R. (2009). The mediocre multitasker. NYTimes.com. Published August 29, 2009.

Available at: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/30/weekinreview/ 30pennebaker.html

Scollon, R. & Scollon, S. (1986). Responsive communication: Patterns for making sense. Haines,

AK: Black Current Press.

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Sullivan, S., & Glanz, J. (2000). Supervision that improves teaching: Strategies and techniques.

Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin Press.

Varenne, H. & McDermott, R. (1999). Successful failure: The school America builds. Boulder,

CO: Westview.

Waite, D. (1992). Supervisors’ talk: Making sense of conferences from an anthropological

linguistic perspective. Journal of Curriculum and Supervision, 7, 349-371.

Waite, D. (1993). Teachers in conference: A qualitative study of teacher-supervisor face-to-face

interactions. American Educational Research Journal, 30, 675-702.

Waite, D. (1995). Rethinking instructional supervision: Notes on its language and culture.

London: Falmer Press.

Wood, D. R. (1992). Teaching narratives: A source for faculty development and evaluation.

Harvard Educational Review, 62, 535-550.