Compassionate Leadership: | New Principal

the new principal
Toy in the classroom

Debbie Toy has created a "family feeling" that binds her school community together.

Story and photos by JUDY BLANKENSHIP

BOISE, Idaho — In a classic scenario, three second-grade boys sit outside the principal's office at Trail Wind Elementary School. A stocky, freckled kid in untied shoes slumps on a chair, chewing his fingers. Two smaller boys are wedged into a second chair. One of them holds an ice-filled plastic bag on his forehead.

"What's up?" I ask.

"He's in trouble," says one of the smaller boys, indicating the freckled child. "We're waiting to explain to Mrs. Toy what happened."

"Are you worried?" I ask the alleged culprit.

"No," he shrugs. The chewed fingers belie his answer.

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"I think he has got to learn to keep his hands to himself," the first boy says indignantly.

While the boys wait, Debbie Toy, Trail Wind's Principal and Idaho's National Distinguished Principal for 1999, is doing something she rarely does: sitting in her office behind a closed door. She's meeting with an Idaho Health and Welfare caseworker, the school nurse, and the school counselor, discussing a student who, along with other family members, was severely burned two years ago when the tent they were living in caught fire. The child is now struggling with serious behavior problems at school.

Toy picks up the phone and buzzes her secretary. "We'll be meeting a while longer," she says. "Take the boys to the cafeteria for an early lunch and I'll find them when I'm finished." She turns back to the meeting.

An animated 50-year-old with frosted hair, an infectious smile, and intense brown eyes that pay close attention to whoever is talking, Toy has devoted almost three decades to the Boise school system.

When she went back to the University of Idaho in 1984 for her principal's certificate, she had spent 16 years in the classroom. She felt she needed a new challenge. Her years teaching had taught her how critical the principal's role is in a school, she says. "I had some good role modeling (by other principals), but I also saw what happens when a principal becomes a closed door, not visible, not out there and a part of what's happening in the building."

Three years ago, Toy was assigned to Trail Wind, a new school under construction in Columbia Village, a vast housing development that stretches for miles into the dry plains east of Boise. When Trail Wind opened its doors to 550 students in September 1997, it was already too small for the rapidly growing community. The school has reached capacity this year, and the addition of a new wing is planned for next year to accommodate an expected enrollment of 750. Toy says this should be the limit of any elementary school.

"Debbie was my principal of choice to take on Trail Wind School," says Jim Reed, Area Director and Toy's boss at the district. "Her greatest strength is that she was a good teacher and she can't understand why all others aren't good teachers. Debbie has the ability to move people up a notch, maybe even above their level of competence. She's a model principal and a trainer for others. I wish we had more like her."

The closed-door meeting finished, Toy escorts the three waiting boys to the conference room across the hall. She directs them to sit down around her at the large table. With pencil poised above a fat, three-ring binder, she says, "OK boys, tell me what happened."

What follows is a confused story that involves recess, the word "stupid," a race to line up, a shoving match, a step on a foot, and a punch. Toy listens carefully, ignoring the Rashomon-like tangle of conflicting stories to break in with positive observations like "so far so good," and "good choice," and to ask, "What are safe things to do when you're angry?"

Toy reminds the boys of the Trail Wind mantra — "be caring, cooperative, and considerate" — and guides them through the choices they will make when an incident like this happens again. She shakes hands with the boys, sends the two smaller ones back to their classrooms, and escorts the larger boy, Jeremy (students' names have been changed), who has a history of anger-management problems, to her office. Toy calls his mother, explains what happened, and reassures her that everything is under control. She reminds the mother how important it is that Jeremy take his medication, and suggests that he discuss this incident with his counselor. She hands the phone to Jeremy, who talks softly to his mom for a few minutes.

"You have to use these teachable moments," says Toy after she has sent the child back to his classroom and made a second call to the mother of the boy with the bump on his head.

Since arriving at her office at 6:45 this Monday morning, she has met face-to-face with a child protection worker, the school counselor and nurse, three teachers, and three students. She has talked by phone to two parents. In between, she has called the district PR person about submitting a fourth-grader's poem to the monthly newsletter, accepted written apologies from two boys who stole balloons from a classroom, called the custodian about replacing a hinge, and agreed to an interview with a reporter from the Boise State University newspaper.

And it's only 11:30.

Now she gathers up a notebook and pen and strides down the hall for a classroom observation.