I’m all fired up. I just read Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In back to back with Sonia Sotomayor’s My Beloved World. They make a great pair; each inspires in its own way, with common themes emerging from two very different stories.
Common Themes
Both Sandberg and Sotomayor embody the American Dream, rising from relatively humble beginnings (very humble, in Sotomayor’s case), to the pinnacles of their fields. Both got there through hard work, dedication, and perseverance. In these books, Sotomayor and Sandberg describe how their aspirations took shape, and how they learned to actively and unapologetically pursue them. They emphasize the importance of asking for and being open to help and feedback. Although neither understates her own effort, they both openly acknowledge that personal and/or professional support played critical roles at various points in their paths to success. Sandberg points out, however, with amply documented evidence, that women are far more likely than men to share credit for their success with those that helped them along the way. Finally, both share a deep belief that increasing diversity among those who hold power in business and government will result in a better world.
Sotomayor
From the projects of the Bronx, Sonia Sotomayor went on to Princeton, Yale Law, the New York District Attorney’s Office, corporate law for a firm whose clients included Fendi and Ferrari, the Federal Bench, and now, of course, the Supreme Court. She had never heard of the Ivy League when a friend suggested she try for it as she was applying to colleges.
Those familiar with research on “grit” as a major factor in overcoming adversity will find much corroborative evidence in Sotomayor’s story. A Type 1 diabetic, she learned to give herself shots at the age of six. She overcame diabetes, poverty, low expectations, her father’s alcoholism and early death, and racism to rise to the highest rank of her profession, and, indeed, one of the most powerful positions in our government. Along the way, she encountered insinuations that she was selected for college, law, school, jobs, and promotions because of her race. A staunch defender of affirmative action, she points out that while such policies may indeed have gotten her in the door, they do not account for the accolades she achieved once there. There’s no affirmative action policy for magna cum laude diplomas at Princeton or for admission to Phi Beta Kappa. And I’m pretty sure the Fendi and Ferrari families demand excellence from their attorneys without regard for race or ethnicity.
There’s more to Sotomayor’s story than grit, however. She’s more determined and goal-oriented than she is tough. She approached each new challenge and experience with an open-mindedness and an open-heartedness that accounts for her success at least as much as grit. In those early days of affirmative action, imagine the culture shock of Princeton for a young Puerto Rican woman from the Bronx. Sotomayor found companionship and understanding among students from similar backgrounds (or, at least, similarly different from most Princetonians at the time). However, she never closed herself off from the wider community, a pattern that continued throughout her education and career. She describes how she realized that in order to achieve her goal to become a federal judge, she would have to become comfortable moving in the world of the rich and powerful. It required an open mind, courage, and, at a friend’s insistence, a new pair of shoes. One of my favorite stories from My Beloved World describes a Thanksgiving with members of the Fendi family at her mother’s apartment in the Bronx.
When I consider Sotomayor’s direct experience with the wealth gap in our society, her ability to cultivate personal and professional relationships with all kinds of people seems even more impressive to me. She seems to me a political realist; rather than railing against the system, she decided that she could best make effective change from a position of power within it. Furthermore, she sees the whole picture. From prosecutor to corporate lawyer to judge, her stories illuminate the legal and philosophical ramifications of each case, and, above all, compassion for the individual people involved.
Until we get equality in education, we won’t have an equal society.
— Sonia Sotomayor
Sandberg
Lean In is not a memoir, but rather a call to action peppered with personal anecdotes and research findings. I had read and heard a lot about Lean In before I actually read it myself. There’s a fair amount of backlash out there, primarily taking two forms. Some claim that by identifying ways in which women hold themselves back, Sandberg is blaming the victim. Others feel that Sandberg is judgmental of women who choose to prioritize family life over their careers. After reading the book, I find both of these perspectives misguided, arising from a general discomfort about sexism and “work-life balance” in our culture.
In fact, Sandberg is careful to document the very real, and very sexist, obstacles women face in advancing in their careers. Each chapter opens with a discussion of the external obstacles women face, and then moves on to the internal ones we often unconsciously impose on ourselves. Sandberg meticulously documents the research literature supporting both. The message is not one of blame, but rather empowerment. When we know what we’re facing, we are better able to meet it.
I recommend reading the book, or at least listening to Sandberg’s TED talk for a fuller exploration of these internal and external obstacles women face, but I’ll provide some highlights here. One major external obstacles to women’s success is the sexism that pervades our perceptions of women leaders. We don’t like them, we judge them for putting career before family, even if there’s another loving, competent parent at home. I say “we” because one of Sandberg’s critical points is that most of us, male or female, do not believe our judgments are colored by sexism, even if we agree that it’s a problem in society at large. In study after study however, the data reveal the same pattern, regardless of the intentions or beliefs of the participants. So the next time you’re inclined to call a woman in a position of power a “tough bitch,” substitute “strong leader.” Maybe that’s what you really mean.
Sandberg’s primary mission, however, is to help women overcome the internal obstacles that prevent us from ascending to top leadership roles. This is where the title phrase, Lean In, comes from. Although Sandberg really (really) wants women to pursue these positions, she understands why women might choose a different path for family or personal reasons. She urges us to make these choices with our eyes open, not by default. Her advice to women consists of three main messages:
- Sit at the table.
- Make your partner a real partner.
- Don’t leave until you leave.
“Sit at the table” refers to the tendency of women to underestimate and/or downplay their abilities, and shy away from leadership roles, especially compared to men in similar positions with similar abilities. The phrase comes from an experience she had at Facebook where two women traveling with a male government executive declined to sit at the conference table during the meeting, despite Sandberg’s invitation.
“Make your partner a real partner” is self-explanatory, but can, of course, be very difficult in practice. It means examining assumptions, and soul-searching on the part of both partners about what they really want, independent of what cultural norms expect of them.
“Don’t leave until you leave” is a reference to the tendency of women to pull back from their work in anticipation of their family life. Sandberg relays the story of a younger female colleague who was describing how having a baby might affect her career plans. Sandberg assumed her colleague was married, perhaps trying for a baby already, only to find out in the course of the conversation that woman was single. Sandberg makes a strong case for pursuing interesting, challenging work – and promotions – right up until one’s maternity leave. Sure, plan ahead, but don’t step back. Take your leave from a job that’s worth coming back to, not one that you’ve given up on.
What do the stories of a Supreme Court Justice and a Chief Operating Officer have to offer teachers?
Reading these books made me reflect on my own career path and choices, and also made me think about my students and their futures.
Career
On the face of it, a Supreme Court Justice and the COO of Facebook might have little in the way to offer a teacher as far as career guidance. At first, I saw few similarities between their paths and mine, and I met Sandberg’s exhortations for women to pursue leadership positions with a small sigh of resignation. I really like teaching. I don’t think I would like administration (see my previous post “On Ambition”). I felt sorry to disappoint Sheryl Sandberg.
Towards the end of the book, however Sandberg describes her mother’s career. Guess what? Her mother was a teacher. Guess what else? Her mother loved teaching, and wasn’t interested in administrative roles. Sandberg tells the story as a way to illustrate her understanding of and respect for the various reasons women might choose not to pursue leadership positions. For teachers, it’s about loving the work, loving the kids, and feeling like we do the most important work and make the biggest difference in our classrooms.
Upon reflection, Sandberg’s advice and encouragement began to feel more relevant to me. Maybe the validation of her mother’s story made a difference, too. Teachers can assume formal and informal leadership roles in their districts. Sandberg recommends having a long-term plan and an 18-month plan for professional, financial, and personal goals. At first, I laughed this off. Eighteen months from now, I’ll be teaching. My long-term plan is to be teaching still. My financial plan is to get paid. Then I thought about it a little more. I do have professional goals, ways that I want to improve my teaching and diversify my skills. When I retire, many years from now, I want to have already explored options and opened doors for secondary careers and activities, perhaps writing or professional development. When I thought about my finances, I realized that I might benefit from some plans there, too. I could be more deliberate about spending and saving. I could investigate what college might cost four years from now when my oldest daughter is eighteen. I can certainly organize my accounts. So I took Sandberg’s advice and wrote out some plans. It felt good, and I’ve already acted on some of my goals.
Students
As I read these books, I also thought about the students in my classroom. Both Sotomayor’s and Sandberg’s stories show that the right kind of help at the right time might help a student in significant ways. If there are potential Supreme Court Justices or Chief Operating Officers in my classroom (and of course there are!), I want to be in their memoirs as a teacher who helped them along, not one whose unconscious bias held them back.
Combatting sexism and racism requires constant vigilance, especially with regard to our expectations for and responses to students. Study after study confirms the negative effects of low expectations and fixed mindsets on student achievement. We none of us think that we’re guilty of imposing these prejudices on our students, but when it comes to identifying and acting to change our own bias, the research is clear: we stink. Just acknowledging this is the first step.
Teachers play an important role in diversifying the power structure. Schools should actively and formally keep track of and analyze student achievement by subgroups, and work to close achievement gaps. Teachers can do a great deal informally, too. Are there students in our classrooms who have never heard of the Ivy League but should shoot for one of these prestigious universities? Can we recognize girls with strong leadership skills in positive ways (one of Sandberg’s latest efforts: #banbossy)? One story from Sotomayor’s memoir that stuck with me was when, as a middle school student, she approached girl in her class who did well academically and asked her how to study. It made me think about what I assume students already know, and how achievement gaps might relate to these assumptions.
Sonia Sotomayor and Sheryl Sandberg are my gurus for this post. Their stories are truly inspirational. You can learn more about Sheryl Sandberg’s work, and its applications to education at leanin.org and banbossy.com.
As I think about applying what I learned from Sotomayor’s and Sandberg’s stories, two themes emerge. One I have already mentioned: to continually examine my assumptions and biases in order to better see and mitigate their effects on my students. The other is to open up conversations about social justice in the classroom. TED talks are one useful vehicle for starting these discussions, and they have a social justice collection.
In Any Case... 