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The local politics of education governance: power and influence among school boards, superintendents, and teachers' unions

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The local politics of education governance: power and influence among school boards, superintendents, and teachers' unions

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THE LOCAL POLITICS OF EDUCATION GOVERNANCE:
POWER AND INFLUENCE AMONG SCHOOL BOARDS, SUPERINTENDENTS,
AND TEACHERS’ UNIONS

by

Dara B. Zeehandelaar

A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(EDUCATION)

December 2012

Copyright 2012 Dara B. Zeehandelaar

ii

DEDICATION
To my family, by birth and by choice.

iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are a number of people who have been simply indispensable to my
transition from high school math teacher to doctoral candidate (and before that, my
transition from astrophysics graduate student to high school math teacher). They have
been my advisors and mentors, my motivators and cheerleaders, my friends and my
psychiatrists. They deserve more recognition and accolades than I could possibly give
them, but I’d like to start by acknowledging them here.
I am indebted to the board members, administrators, and union leaders in
McKinley and Rainier. They gave me access to both their districts and their candid
selves, and I hope that I did some justice here to the enormous challenges of their work.
I am also deeply thankful to my advisor, Katharine Strunk, for her expertise and
patience. She encouraged me to ask difficult questions and answer then rigorously, and
helped me through the often excruciating process of learning to write what I mean.
Without her guidance and that of the rest of my dissertation committee – Julie Marsh, Gib
Hentschke, and Dan Mazmanian – this work would never have been more than an
interesting idea. I owe them, and the other professors and staff at the Rossier School of
Education, a degree of gratitude.
My Rossier classmates and coworkers pushed me to think critically. Around such
a motivating, high-achieving group, there was no room for intellectual complacency. I
have learned from them and with them and I am honored to call them my colleagues.
When I got stuck, Susan Bush helped me look forward. Randy Clemens challenged me to
evaluate my own biases, to read more and talk less, and to eat more burritos.

iv

I am lucky to have a family that has stuck with me even when I wasn’t quite sure
where I was going. To my parents and brother, grandparents, aunts, uncles (genetic and
inherited), and cousins, thank you for helping me forge my own path and for never failing
to tell me that you’re proud of me.
Every day I have the unbelievable fortune of counting myself among a group of
friends by whom I am constantly amazed and inspired. The Conquistadors, Huskies,
Cornellies, Terps, LA peeps, and hashers are the smartest, raddest, most accomplished
Brute Squad I know. Thank you for the hugs, the calls, the cards, the sympathetic ears,
the sanity checks, the chalk-talks, and for running me in in flip-flops.
My students and colleagues at Coolidge High School in Washington DC, and my
friends working in public schools in Los Angeles and elsewhere, inspired me to make a
positive change in the education system. I hope I can return even a little of what they
have given me.
Finally, there are three people that fit into several of these categories, but are
really in a class by themselves. My mom, for taking care of me – the job description has
changed over the past three decades, but she’s filled the position with love, with grace,
and occasionally with groceries. Arianna Haut, for never questioning my decision to
pursue a PhD even when I doubted it myself, for giving me perspective even on the worst
days, and for never letting me forget a preposition. Anthony Shaw, who has seen me
write the vast majority of the words in this dissertation (including these, although he
doesn’t know it) and through that, or despite it, has made me stronger, happier, and
whole.
v

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication ii

Acknowledgments iii

List of Tables vii

Abstract viii

CHAPTER 1: Politics in School Districts: School boards, Superintendents, and
Teachers’ Unions
1
Context: Political Power, Fiscal Solvency, and Student Achievement 2
Statement of Purpose and Research Questions 5
Decision-Making, Power, and Influence in School Districts 7
Significance of the Study 12
Overview of Dissertation 13

CHAPTER 2: Theoretical Framework and Literature Review 15
Districts as Political Institutions: Systems, Organizational, and Power Theory 16
Figure 2.1: Sociopolitical Decision-Making in School Districts 17
The Theoretical Balance of Power: Strategies and Determinants 28
The Observed Balance of Power: Boards, Superintendents, and Unions 41

CHAPTER 3: Research Design and Methods 74
Research Questions 74
Research Design 75
Research Methodology: Sample Selection, Data Collection, and Sources 84
Data Analysis 101
Validity, Dependability, and Confirmability 103

CHAPTER 4: Describing Power Resources and Strategies 108
Overview of Decision-Making in McKinley and Rainier Unified 108
Examples of Decision-Making: Resources, Strategies, and Power 110
Research Question 1: Available Power Resources 131
Research Question 2: Available Power Strategies 145

CHAPTER 5: Explaining Power Resources, Strategy Selection, and Decision-
Making Outcomes 170
Environmental Factors in McKinley and Rainier Unified 170
Research Question 3: Effects of Environmental Factors 176

CHAPTER 6: The Local Politics of Education Governance 203
General Conclusions and Discussion 204

vi

Limitations and Applicability 212
Implications and Recommendations for Policy, Practice, and Research 218
Final Remarks 234

References 236

APPENDIX A: District Participation and Interview Request Letters 280
APPENDIX B: Interview Protocols and Observation Guides 284
APPENDIX C: Data Analysis Codes 292

vii

LIST OF TABLES

Table 3.1. Data sources. 92

Table 4.1. Available power resources for boards, administrators, and unions. 134

Table 4.2. First-face power strategies available to board members,
administrators, and unions.
149

Table 4.3. Second-face power strategies available to board members,
administrators, and unions.
154

Table 4.4. Third-face power strategies available to board members,
administrators, and unions.
159

Table 4.5. Zero-face strategies available to board members, administrators, and
unions.
166

Table 5.1. Environmental factors in McKinley and Rainier Unified. 171

Table 5.2. Effects of environmental factors on resource distribution in McKinley
and Rainier.
178

Table 5.3. Effects of environmental context and resource distribution on strategy
location in McKinley and Rainier.
183

Table 5.4. Effects of environmental factors and resource distribution on strategy
success in McKinley and Rainier.
192

viii

ABSTRACT
School districts have two general courses of action to maintain fiscal solvency and
raise student achievement in the face of drastic funding cuts. They can reduce spending
on teachers, a strategy opposed by many teachers’ unions because it threatens teacher job
security. They can also cut expenditures in other areas such as instructional programs and
materials, transportation, or non-teaching personnel, but they risk losing support from
parents and community members who want to maintain high-quality options for students.
There is a growing body of research showing that boards, superintendents, and teachers’
unions (alone and as they interact with one another) are highly influential in the decisions
school districts make when they allocate resources. However, there is currently no clear
understanding of what in practice defines a “powerful” school board, superintendent, or
teachers’ union, nor is it widely understood how each uses political power to influence
district decision-making.
Using a theory-driven comparative instrumental case study of two large, urban,
politically-active school districts, I examined how school boards and their members,
superintendents and central office administrators, and teachers’ union leaders
strategically used power to affect the outcomes of decision-making and protect their
interests. To frame and analyze case study data, I combined political systems,
organizational, and power theories, and then used the resulting framework to describe the
power resources available to each group and the strategies each used to leverage their
resources. I also investigated contextual determinants of resource availability, strategy
choice, and strategy success.

ix

This dissertation presents four major findings about the two case study districts.
First, the more vocal, visible union that used high-conflict interest group strategies was
likely desperate, not powerful. That union was forced to act outside of the district’s
formal decision-making processes. As a result it had fewer resources, and its power
strategies were less successful, than the union that had been invited to act from within.
Second, while board members were theoretically the strongest district actors
because of their legitimate authority over local education governance, in both case study
districts the board was not, in practice, powerful in comparison to other actors. In one
district, the board was weaker than the superintendent because it ceded its authority to
administrators. In the other, the board diminished their own autonomy when board
members were overly responsive to community and union demands. This is related to the
third finding: The relative power of the superintendent was contingent on the amount of
authority ceded to him by the board and permitted to him by the public. Both
superintendents were very powerful when they had the ability to, and chose to, use their
sizeable knowledge resources and access to decision-making.
Finally, certain environmental conditions significantly decreased resource value
and strategy effectiveness in these districts. I define these conditions as community
constraint (devaluation of existing resources), systemic exclusion (limited access to the
resource exchange marketplace), external uncertainty (depletion or elimination of local
resources by outside forces), and internal conflict (when resources are frozen by
disagreement before they can be used).

1

CHAPTER 1
Politics In School Districts: School Boards, Superintendents, and Teachers’ Unions

Public education in California is facing a funding crisis of dire proportions. In the
last four years, the state slashed $22 billion from its K-12 education budget. Since 2008,
the state has reduced per-pupil spending by 23% and local funding has not been able to
fully fill the resulting revenue gap (California Department of Education, 2012; EdSource,
2011; Oliff & Leachman, 2011). In 2011, California Superintendent for Public Instruction
Tom Torlakson declared a “state of financial emergency” and noted that “roughly 30
percent of pupils in California now attend school in a district facing serious financial
jeopardy” (California Department of Education, 2011a, 2011b). Not only are its public
schools underfunded, but California’s students are in academic distress as well. The
state’s eighth graders rank 49
th
in the country on standardized tests in mathematics and
reading (National Center for Education Statistics, 2011a). Seventy-one percent of
California students who entered ninth grade in 2008 graduated high school in four years;
only 7 states had worse freshman graduation rates (National Center for Education
Statistics, 2011b).
To stay solvent and increase achievement as revenue decreases and operating
costs rise, district leaders must decide whether to cut spending on teachers, staff,
instructional programs, or facilities. Tensions arise between district leaders and teachers’
unions because some cost-saving measures protect the jobs and salaries of teachers, while
others maintain instructional programs for students. At any level of democratic
government – and school districts are no exception – political action is a natural

2

consequence when interests diverge and resources are scarce. When political action turns
into acrimonious and highly-visible conflict, decision-making becomes a power struggle
between publically-elected school board members, appointed administrators, and
professional employees. In some districts, the unfortunate result of this power struggle is
that the personal and professional goals of adults supersede the best interests of students.
Context: Political Power, Fiscal Solvency, and Student Achievement
Public school districts are subject to demands from state and federal governments,
students and parents, taxpayers and community members, and their own employees.
Paramount among these demands is fiscal solvency and student achievement. By law,
California school districts are not allowed to deficit-spend. They must balance their
budgets within the constraints of government categorical funding requirements, and they
must do so for three years at a time (California AB 1200, 1991). Districts are also
mandated to meet the benchmarks for student achievement set by the Elementary and
Secondary Education Act (1965, 2001) and the California Public Schools Accountability
Act (1999).
To remain solvent, district leaders have a variety of options, some of which they
know might endanger student achievement. One avenue for cost-cutting is spending less
on teachers. Given the high cost of labor in California, where teachers have the highest
average salaries in the nation, spending less on teachers can mean substantial savings for
a school district (EdSource, 2011). However, reducing teacher-related expenditures also
risks student outcomes because it creates larger classes, shorter instructional calendars,
and less-satisfied teachers. Many district leaders have accepted these risks and negotiated

3

with their local teachers’ union to change compensation, school calendars, and working
conditions.
1
In the 2011-2012 fiscal year, 83 percent of school districts in California did
not adjust teacher salaries for cost-of-living increases, 50 percent implemented furlough
days, 32 percent raised class sizes, and 17 percent reduced spending on teacher health and
welfare benefits. Six percent eliminated automatic yearly raises for teachers. An
additional 35 percent issued pink slips to their teachers, which does not require
bargaining between a district and its union (Legislative Analyst's Office, 2012).
California districts also made substantial expenditure cuts in areas that are not
directly related to teacher employment. In the 2011-12 school year, 63 percent of districts
spent less on instructional materials compared to the year before. Seventy-seven percent
cut funding to arts and music programs, and 72 percent reduced expenditures on gifted
and talented education (Legislative Analyst's Office, 2012). Many districts opted to
eliminate summer school or freeze the purchase of new textbooks (C. Carlson, 2012; Frey
& Gonzales, 2011). Over half of California’s districts laid off non-teaching staff or did
not fill existing vacancies in non-teaching positions (Legislative Analyst's Office, 2012).
These actions involve trade-offs: reduce the quantity of teachers or the amount
spent on their salaries, or cut expenditures in other areas such as instructional materials,
operations, or non-teaching personnel. Conflicting interests and scarce resources
politicize decision-making, and now, more than ever, school district leaders are making

1
Districts in 31 states and the District of Columbia are required by law to negotiate with teachers’ unions,
fourteen states neither require nor prohibit bargaining, and five explicitly prohibit it. State law dictates the
scope of collective bargaining, but typically-bargained provisions include wages, benefits, pensions, leave,
work days and hours, transfers and assignments, dismissals, evaluations, class size, grievance procedures,
and right to strike (Koski & Tang, 2011; National Council on Teacher Quality, 2009). In this work, I use
“union” to mean employee associations in districts that either require or allow collective bargaining.

4

choices based on both rational, information-based processes as well as political action
strategies among school board members, superintendents, employee unions, and external
interest groups (Wirt & Kirst, 2005).
Traditionally, local teachers’ unions act politically to protect teacher job security.
Sometimes unions organize their members to lobby, rally, or provide support for union-
endorsed school board candidates; at other times, union leaders use negotiating tactics to
limit the union’s concessions during collective bargaining. When unions act politically,
board members, superintendents, the media, and the public accuse them of demanding a
disproportionate amount of district resources without increasing the quality of teaching,
of having an undue influence on school board elections and district decision-making, and
of negotiating restrictive, protectionist contracts that prevent the board and
superintendent from enacting desperately needed reforms (see, for example, Brimelow,
2004; Chubb & Moe, 1990; Goldstein, 2010; Hoxby, 1996; Lieberman, 2000; Moe,
2011).
2

District leaders use political action as well, often by imposing layoffs or making
decisions about curriculum and instruction without asking for teachers’ professional
input. In response, unions indict district leaders for seeking quick-fix solutions that serve

2
By focusing on teachers’ unions, I do not imply that they are the only influential organized interest.
Community and business organizations can be quite powerful locally, but they differ from unions because
they are not simultaneously district employees and external actors. I expand on this distinction in later
chapters. Other internal actors, such as the PTA and the unions for classified staff and administrators, rarely
receive the same degree of criticism as teachers’ unions do. Teachers’ unions have significantly more
members (and therefore more money) than other employee unions, and the majority of district expenditures
are on teachers. In most states the administrators’ union is not legally recognized as a bargaining unit.
Finally, the PTA is a non-profit organization and therefore not allowed to participate in board member
campaigns.

5

board members’ and superintendents’ personal and political interests; they charge district
leaders with being overly responsive to community demands while ignoring the value and
expertise of teachers (Bascia, 2005; Boyd, Plank, & Sykes, 2000; Duffett, Farkas,
Rotherham, & Silva, 2008; Johnson & Kardos, 2000; Kerchner & Koppich, 2000).
Conflict is not new to decision-making in public education (Alsbury, 2008;
Bacharach & Lawler, 1980; Berkman & Plutzer, 2005; Bjork, 2008; Burlingame, 1988;
Cistone, 2008; Hess, 1999; Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970; Lowi, 1972; Moe, 2005; Spillane,
1998; Wirt & Kirst, 1972, 2005). However, financial crisis exacerbated the already
political nature of local education governance. Boards, superintendents, and unions face
heavy criticism for using political power to put their own self-interest above the public
good. Each does wield a significant amount of power to affect decision-making: boards
have direct authority, administrators have professional discretion, and teachers’ unions
have collective bargaining and electoral politics. Despite the criticism and attention,
however, there is currently no clear understanding of what in practice defines a
“powerful” school board, superintendent, or teachers’ union, and how each uses political
power to influence district decision-making.
Statement of Purpose and Research Questions
While there is a growing body of research that shows that interactions among
boards, superintendents, and teachers’ unions affect how school districts allocate their
resources, the empirical work on the subject is piecemeal. Researchers who examine the
politics of district decision-making tend to focus on external interest groups rather than
the internal processes. Other scholars explore in detail one actor, one type of strategy, or

6

one outcome of decision-making, but as yet have not captured a school district as a
collection of individuals and groups with diverse strategies and goals. Some researchers
take a holistic, descriptive approach to school districts, acknowledging the sociopolitical
nature of local education governance, but do not use a guiding theoretical framework.
The purpose of this study is to use a theory-driven approach to understand how
school boards and their members, superintendents and central office administrators, and
teachers’ unions act and interact politically as they make decisions in an environment of
political and financial constraint. Specifically, I ask:
1. What power resources are available to school board members, superintendents
and district administrators, and teachers’ union leaders?
2. When actors use power strategies to leverage their resources, what types of
strategies do they use, where are those strategies located, what is the goal of each
strategy, and which dimensions of power do those strategies represent?
3. How do environmental factors affect the resources to which actors have access,
the strategies that actors choose, and whether or not actors successfully leverage
their resources so that outcomes of decision-making reflect their interests?
To answer these questions, I conducted a theory-driven comparative case study of
two large, urban, politically-active school districts. In each district, I observed school
board, committee, and teachers’ association meetings, interviewed school board
members, superintendents and executive management teams, and teachers’ union leaders,
and reviewed documents. To frame and analyze these data, I combined political systems,
organizational, and power theories, then used the resulting theoretical framework to

7

describe the power strategies that each group utilized to leverage its resources and gain
influence in relation to one another. I also investigated contextual determinants of
strategy choice and success.
Decision-Making, Power, and Influence in School Districts
In this section, I briefly introduce my theoretical framework and review the
empirical literature on how interactions among boards, superintendents, and teachers’
unions affect district decision-making. In the following section, I describe the
significance of my study and how it addresses gaps in this extant research. I conclude
with an overview of this dissertation.
Theoretical Framework: Political Systems, Organizational, and Power Theories
Political systems theory is one way to model how a governance system like a
school district makes decisions (Easton, 1953, 1957, 1965; Kingdon, 1995; D. A. Stone,
2002; Wirt & Kirst, 2005). In a school district, the board and superintendent comprise the
legitimate political system. The board passes, amends, and repeals policy, and the
superintendent implements policy and oversees operations (Danzberger, Kirst, & Usdan,
1992; Kowalski, 2006). Actors without the direct authority to make decisions are external
to the legitimate system. These external actors – students, parents, employees, and
community members – place demands on the board and superintendent. They can act as
individuals, or organize into interest groups. The district then converts input demands
into system outputs (Kingdon, 1995). These outcomes feed back to the external actors,
who, in reaction, modify their inputs (Easton, 1965; Kingdon, 1995). This is
macropolitics.

8

Not all school district politics are macro. Policy outcomes are influenced as much
by actors inside a political system as those outside of it (Walker, 1983). Actors use
rational processes to achieve specific organizational goals within a well-defined
governance structure, but they also use bargaining and negotiation to ensure that their
interests, and the interests of those they represent, are secure (Ball, 1987; Blase, 1991;
Blase & Anderson, 1995; Blase & Blase, 2002; Estler, 1988; Kelchtermans & Ballet,
2002; Malen, 1994b; Marshall & Scribner, 1991; Willower, 1991). Actors interpret and
prioritize. They weigh some demands more heavily than others, integrate their own
values, experiences, and goals, and use their power and position to affect the outputs of
the political system (Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970). The translation of demands into decision-
making outcomes is both a product of pressure from external interest groups and the
internal politics of the district itself. These are micropolitical processes.
The degree to which the outcomes of decision-making actually reflect the
interests of a particular individual or group depends on the way that power is distributed
within the political system (Blase, 2005; Blase & Blase, 1997; Hanson, 1981; Lindblom
& Woodhouse, 1993; Malen, 1994a; Wirt & Kirst, 2005). Each actor has a number of
power resources – material, knowledge, positional, social – which they can leverage to
influence one another. They may choose to do so through direct authority (one actor
makes a decision for another) (Dahl, 1957), constraint (limiting access to or the scope of
the political process) (Bachrach & Baratz, 1962), or manipulation (persuading another to
act contrary to his or her own interests) (Lukes, 1981).

9

A number of factors shape actors’ access to power resources and strategies, and
determine whether those strategies are successful in affecting the outcomes of decision-
making. Some of these factors are context-independent, and do not vary from district to
district. Other factors are environmental. A district’s institutional context, which includes
demographics, wealth, and external policy mandates and laws, constrains certain
decisions while encouraging others. The organizational structure, typified by a district’s
internal rules and norms, gives boards, superintendents, and external interests more or
less sway. The structure of the community also affects how power is distributed; boards
and superintendents respond to external demands differently in communities that are
dominated by a few interest groups versus communities where power is contested.
District leaders are also more or less responsive to certain demands depending on public
opinion. Personal traits play an important role in decision-making as well (Bjork &
Lindle, 2001; Burlingame, 1988; DiMaggio & Powell, 1983; Easton, 1957; Iannaccone &
Lutz, 1970; Lawrence & Lorsh, 1967; Malen, 2006; March & Olsen, 1989; March &
Simon, 1958; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2001; Rowan & Miskel, 1999; Scott, 2008).
Review of Literature: Boards, Superintendents, and Teachers’ Unions in Practice
The extant research on how board members, superintendents, and teachers’ unions
use power to affect the outcomes of decision-making has taken a number of different
approaches.
The literature on the work of board members and superintendents is largely
descriptive, and focuses on the processes of decision-making rather than the outcomes.
Several national surveys examined the responsibilities of board members and

10

superintendents, the interactions among them, and the degree to which unions and other
external actors participate in district governance (Glass, Bjork, & Brunner, 2000; Glass &
Franceschini, 2007; Hess, 2002; Hess & Meeks, 2011; Kowalski, McCord, Petersen,
Young, & Ellerson, 2011). A number of studies investigated board member-administrator
relationships (for comprehensive reviews, see Ehrensal & Frist, 2008; Land, 2002), inter-
district politics (Feuerstein & Opfer, 1998; Mountford, 2004; Opfer, 2005), the effects of
superintendent traits on board decisions (Bjork, 2008; Petersen & Short, 2001; Peterson
& Williams, 2005), and the relationships among interest groups, community preferences,
and school board member behavior (Alsbury, 2003; Bjork & Gurley, 2005; Bjork &
Lindle, 2001; Greene, 1992; Lutz & Iannaccone, 2008). Broadly, these studies show that
school districts are inherently political. As board members and superintendents interact
among themselves and with the external community, they are partially motivated by the
desire to ensure that the distribution of power allows them adequate control over the
decisions that are most important to them.
Like the literature on boards and superintendents, empirical research that
examines the impact of teachers’ unions is narrow in scope. Researchers have used
econometric methods to rigorously investigate the effects of unionization and union
strength, but have examined only one outcome of district decision-making: the provisions
of negotiated contracts such as teacher compensation and class size (Berkman & Plutzer,
2005; Eberts, 1984; Hess & Kelly, 2006; Hoxby, 1996; Moe, 2009; P. Riley, Fusano,
Munk, & Peterson, 2002; Strunk, 2011, 2012; Strunk & Grissom, 2010). More recent
literature studied the relationship between bargaining outcomes and union strength (Moe,

11

2006a, 2009; P. Riley, et al., 2002; Strunk, 2011; Strunk & Grissom, 2010; Strunk &
McEachin, 2011; Strunk & Zeehandelaar, 2011)]. Studies on the strategies that unions
use to leverage their resources to protect their interests, and why some strategies are more
successful than others, are largely absent from the empirical literature (Bacharach &
Mundell, 1993; Bjork, 2008; Blase & Bjork, 2010; Burlingame, 1988; Cistone, 2008;
Feuerstein & Dietrich, 2003; Johnson, 1988; Kirst, 2008; Koski & Tang, 2011). Only one
strategy of political influence – electoral politics – has received much attention (Grissom,
2010; Hess & Leal, 2005; Moe, 2005, 2006b; Strunk & Grissom, 2010).
A review of this literature reveals some expected results and other confusing or
contradictory findings. School board candidates who are endorsed by a local teachers’
union win more often than those who are not (Moe, 2005, 2006b), but endorsements are
not necessarily associated with a union-friendly contract (Strunk & Grissom, 2010) and
endorsed board members tend to be less sympathetic toward union interests the longer
they stay in office (Moe, 2005). Districts with strong unions, where strength is either
measured by the researcher or reported by board members, are more likely to have
contracts that restrict administrator actions (Moe, 2009; Strunk & Grissom, 2010), but
may not pay their teachers more (Strunk, 2011, 2012) or consistently offer other “union-
friendly” contract provisions (Strunk & Zeehandelaar, 2011).
Aggregating the board-superintendent and district-union literature yields several
general conclusions about political behavior in school districts. Findings agree that power
is contested among school boards, superintendents, teachers’ unions, and that each works
to redistribute power in their favor. These actors compete for a variety of available

12

resources, including financial capital, information, access to the decision-making process,
and the support of internal allies, powerful interest groups, and broad-based constituent
support. Empirical findings also agree that actors are motivated by a number of
sometimes competing factors, among them student achievement, financial solvency,
personal job security, and organizational legitimacy.
Despite these consistencies, however, the literature also reveals discrepancies
between perceptions of union strength (by both board members and researchers) and
decision-making outcomes. The extant literature does not provide sufficient evidence to
resolve these discrepancies. Only one process – electoral politics – and one outcome –
collective bargaining – have been examined in any detail, leaving a multitude of other
strategies and outcomes unstudied. Researchers studied the relationship between
superintendents and school boards using predominantly leadership and sociological
perspectives, not a political one. The literature on boards and superintendents remains
largely disconnected from the work on unions. Studies on the effects of environmental
factors on access to resources, actor behavior, and the outcomes of decision-making do
not yet give a clear picture of how these factors influence the distribution of power
among district actors.
Significance of the Study
This study aims to address the gaps in the literature by offering both a holistic and
theory-driven approach to understanding the political interactions among school boards,
superintendents, and teachers’ unions. Thus far, education researchers have used
micropolitical theory to study policy implementation at the school level (e.g. Achinstein,

13

2002; Bacharach & Lawler, 1980; Ball, 1987; Blase, 1991, 2005; Flessa, 2009; Hoyle,
1982; Malen & Cochran, 2008); I expand this to examine the behavior of actors internal
to the school district political system. Likewise, education researchers have used
macropolitical theory to study the impact of interest groups at a national and state level
(for a review, see Masters & Delaney, 2005), but not in-depth at the district level. I
combine these two models, integrate them with power theory, and apply the resulting lens
to school districts to describe how power resources are distributed among district-level
actors, to illustrate the strategies available to each to leverage those resources, and to
posit what might account for the differences in resource availability, strategy use, and
strategy success.
In addition to its contribution to political theory, this work extends the empirical
research on how boards, superintendents, and unions influence district decision-making.
It also sheds light on the inconsistencies between union strength, either real or perceived,
and decision-making outcomes. The conclusions about power in school districts drawn
from this research may ultimately provide policymakers and practitioners tools to
increase collaboration and leverage conflict for productive organizational change.
Overview of Dissertation
This dissertation proceeds as follows: In Chapter 2, I present the theoretical
framework in detail, first modeling the external and internal politics of a school district,
then explaining how actors use power to influence the outcomes of district decision-
making, and finally offering factors that potentially affect resource availability and actor
behavior. I also review the empirical literature on how school board members,

14

superintendents, and teachers’ unions use a variety of power strategies as they interact,
and how those strategies affect the balance of power and, in turn, influence board
policies, negotiations, and administrator actions. In Chapter 3, I outline the design of my
case study, explain my data collection and analysis methods in detail, and address criteria
for rigor. I present descriptive data, and answer Research Questions 1 and 2, in Chapter 4.
The explanatory third research question is answered in Chapter 5. With Chapter 6, I
discuss broad findings and themes, present implications for policy, practice, and research,
and conclude.

15

CHAPTER 2
Theoretical Framework and Literature Review

School districts are internally sociopolitical institutions (Spillane, 1998; Willower,
1991; Wirt & Kirst, 2005). Their leaders are constantly interacting as they react to the
demands of students, parents, local communities, state and federal governments, and
employees. These demands are varied and complex: students and parents want specific
programs, options, and outcomes; communities want efficient districts that use taxpayer
money to increase the economic and social benefits for all residents; state and federal
governments require student achievement, accountability, and solvency; employees want
job security, fair working conditions, support, and empowerment.
Sometimes, demands coincide. For example, fiscal solvency is a priority for
everyone, whether it is a requirement (for district leaders), a condition for job security
(for employees), or a sign of a successful organization (to voters). But how to maintain
solvency, whether limited funds should be spent on salaries, facilities, instructional
materials, or elsewhere, is contested. Parents might demand spending on instruction
because it is of immediate benefit to their children. Property owners would like to see
investment in facilities and high-profile programs, which would raise the value of their
homes. Teachers may advocate for allocating funds to the classroom in the form of higher
salaries or smaller class sizes. When there is conflict, decision-makers must strategically
prioritize and decide to whom they will be the most responsive. Board members are
accountable to the voters that elect them; superintendents and administrators are held
responsible for student achievement by the public and the government; teachers’ union
leaders are chosen by their membership to ensure fair and favorable working conditions.

16

When the demands of their constituents diverge, leaders try to tip the scales so that the
final decision on how to maintain solvency, or raise test scores, or empower teachers, is
favorable to the particular group that they represent.
Decision-making in school districts is ultimately then about interests and how to
protect them. School board members, superintendents, and teachers’ unions use power
strategies to leverage their resources and gain influence so that the outcomes of decision-
making protect their organizational interests. In this section, I introduce a theoretical lens
for understanding how and why these interactions occur, and review the empirical
literature on the way that school boards, superintendents, and teachers’ unions interact to
make decisions. First, I use political systems and organizational theories to frame school
districts as political institutions, and I describe how leaders translate demands into board
policies, contracts, and administrative actions. Next, I integrate power theory to classify
how power is defined, used, and distributed among district actors. I discuss five
environmental factors – institutional context, organizational structure, community
structure, public opinion, and personal traits – that shape how district leaders actually
choose to use power, and whether or not those choices are successful. Finally, I review
the empirical literature that has examined how board members, superintendents, and
teachers’ unions have used power and whether they have been able to successfully
protect the interests of their organizations.
Districts as Political Institutions: Systems, Organizational, and Power Theory
When any government, school districts included, makes decisions, it is deciding
how to distribute (or redistribute) limited, contested resources (Lasswell, 1936; Lenski,

17

1966). These decisions are based on the demands of the public, the expertise and
experience of the policymakers, the context in which the decision is being made, and the
personal characteristics of the individuals in control. One way of describing how school
districts create policy is through a combination of political system and organizational
theory (Figure 2.1). The former models how government interacts with the public, and
the latter frames the way that decision-makers act within the system itself.

Figure 2.1. Sociopolitical decision-making in school districts.

18

Political Systems and Organizational Theories
Figure 2.1 illustrates how the school district functions as a political system2F
3

Political systems theory, also called the input-output model (Easton, 1953, 1957, 1965;
Kingdon, 1995; D. A. Stone, 2002; Wirt & Kirst, 2005), models the interactions between
the district and the public. In this model, external actors (in the rectangles) place demands
on and offer supports to the legitimate political system. Demands and supports are
indicated by the solid black arrows. For school districts, this legitimate system is made up
of the board, which serves as the district’s legislature and has the authority to pass,
amend, and repeal policy (Danzberger, et al., 1992), and the superintendent, who is the
district’s chief executive, charged with implementing policy and overseeing operations
(Kowalski, 2006).
4,
4F
5
Teachers’ unions, for example, place demands on the district for job-
related securities such as salary, defined work rules, and fair hiring and firing practices.
They may also petition for professional autonomy, respect, and access to decision-
making. In return, unions offer both positive and negative supports: cooperative working
relationships, electoral support, antagonism, militancy, or threats to strike. The district
then converts these inputs into policy outputs (Kingdon, 1995) with more or less

3
Throughout this work I use the term “school district” as shorthand for the legitimate political system (i.e.
only actors that have the legal authority to make binding policy decisions) of local education policy. I also
use “district leaders” to stand for school board members, the superintendent, and the executive cabinet.

4
Easton (1957) originally defined support as a behavior: voting for a candidate, defending the decision of
policymaker, or acting on (or being ready to) act on behalf of a person, government, or ideology. Here, I
define support as both a power resource and the strategy or behavior used to leverage that resource to
influence policy.

5
Unlike the chief executive of state or federal political systems, superintendents are not required to give
their approval before a policy is adopted, nor does the superintendent hold veto power. Also unlike most
political systems, the superintendent and central office administrators serve as ‘staff’ for the school board,
keeping the board informed and researching, designing, and often writing policies for board approval
(Kowalski, 2006).

19

responsiveness (Eulau & Karps, 1977); the resulting policies feed back to the external
actors, who in turn modify their inputs (Easton, 1965; Kingdon, 1995).
Systems theory is a powerful heuristic for understanding the way in which
macropolitical systems like school districts make decisions in response to external
demands. However, policy outcomes are influenced as much from inside of government
as outside of it (Walker, 1983). District actors choose to accept, combine, reduce, or
sometimes ignore the inputs of external groups (Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970). Systems
theory is limited because it focuses only on inputs and outputs – the solid lines in Figure
2.1 – and treats the political system as a discrete unit. Organizational theory addresses
these limitations. It acknowledges that the political system is not a single unit but is made
up of internal elements: the board and its members, the superintendent and administrative
cabinet, and the teachers’ union. Just as in traditional systems theory, the district
translates inputs into policy outputs, but in the integrated model the translation process is
both a product of pressure from external interest groups and the internal politics, or
micropolitics, of the district itself (Bacharach & Lawler, 1980; Bolman & Deal, 2008;
Burns, 1961; C. Campbell, 1971; Giddens, 1984; Perrow, 1973; Pfeffer, 1994; Scott,
1992; Wahlke, 1971). The internal politics, or “withinputs,” (C. Campbell, 1971)5F
6
are
represented by the dashed lines in Figure 2.1. Under organizational theory, organizations
are social and political systems (Barnard, 1938; Selznick, 1948) in which individuals use
processes of conflict, collaboration, or accommodation to make decisions and ensure that

6
Although there are other definitions of “withinputs,” in this review, I will use Campbell’s (1971)
definition and separate the concept into intra-organizational behavior (“micropolitics”) and structure (one
of the aspects of “organizational context”).

20

their interests are secured (Ball, 1987; Blase, 1991; Blase & Anderson, 1995; Blase &
Blase, 2002; Kelchtermans & Ballet, 2002; Malen, 1994b; Marshall & Scribner, 1991;
Willower, 1991).
The actual outputs of district decision-making take one of three forms: board
policies, negotiations, and administrative actions (Lunenburg & Ornstein, 2008; Resnick,
1999), illustrated in Figure 2.1 by the circle labeled “outcomes.” First, board members
debate and adopt policies during school board meetings. These “board action items” or
“board policies” must be voted on by the school board before they are implemented. Such
policies include budgets, layoffs, facilities, district strategic plans, externally-developed
instructional programs, personnel assignments, and implementation plans for state and
federal policy mandates. Board policies are often developed in collaboration with (or
wholly by) the superintendent and other members of a district’s administrative staff.
Board policies may also result from the nonbinding recommendations of board member-
administrator-teacher committees or advisory councils with parents and other community
members (Castilla, 1994; Glass, et al., 2000; McCurdy & Hymes, 1992; Petersen &
Short, 2001; Poole, 1999). Because these action items are the purview of the board, it is
at the discretion of the board members how much input to allow administrators and
others, and how much weight to give that input.
Second, there are a number of decisions that the district can only make after
negotiations with the employee unions. School boards or their designee, commonly a
central office administrator, negotiate with union leaders on the terms and conditions of
teacher employment. Once an agreement is reached, the rank-and-file union members

21

must approve the contract, and then the school board votes to adopt it. The scope of
bargaining is defined at the state level, but typical provisions include wages, pensions,
benefits, leave, hours and calendar, adjunct duties, transfers and assignments, dismissals,
layoffs, furlough days, evaluations, class size, grievance procedures, and right to strike
(National Council on Teacher Quality, 2011). These policies are codified in a contract, or
collective bargaining agreement (CBA) (Koski & Tang, 2011). In California, the entire
CBA is open for negotiation at least once every three years, and in many districts certain
provisions are reopened yearly. The board and union can also modify portions of the
CBA by entering into a memorandum of understanding (MOU); just like the contract
itself, MOUs must be approved by both the union and the board.
Finally, there are a number of operational decisions that are delegated to the
superintendent and administrative staff. Some administrative actions may require the
superintendent to inform the board, and some do not (Sharp & Walter, 2004).
Systems and organizational theory thus frame the mechanisms for the way that
inputs and withinputs are translated by a school district into outputs. The following
section discusses power theory, which describes the process of translation, and how
actors influence that process so that the outputs are favorable to them.
Power Theory
Political action (both micro and macro) involves actors using power to control
policy outcomes (Blase, 2005; Blase & Blase, 1997; Hanson, 1981; Lindblom &
Woodhouse, 1993; Malen, 1994a; Wirt & Kirst, 2005). To influence the outcomes in
Figure 2.1, external and internal actors use political power strategies to leverage their

22

resources so that the legitimate political system will be motivated to respond to their
demands. The general concept of political power is that “A exercises power over B when
A affects B in a manner contrary to B’s interests” (Lukes, 1974, 2005, pg. 27). In this
section, I define political power and offer a system for classifying the ways in which
individuals and groups use political power to sway the outcomes of decision-making. I
will refer to these definitions throughout this work.
Definitions of power. For this study, I use “power” to generally mean domination
of one individual or group over another. So defined, political power has three possible
definitions, also called dimensions or faces (Bachrach & Baratz, 1962; Dahl, 1957;
Etzioni, 1968; Gamson, 1968; Lehman, 1969; Lukes, 1981). The first dimension is direct
authority: one actor makes a decision for another, or compels another to make a decision,
using authority, coercion, persuasion, or force (Dahl, 1957). It is overt, intentional, and
observable, exercised during decision-making when interests conflict. Success is
measurable; if an actor uses power successfully then decisions or policies protect their
interests.
Power can also be defined as constraint. In this second face of power, actors limit
the scope of decision-making by setting the agenda of a political system and the rules for
participating in that system (Bachrach & Baratz, 1962). Actors use behind-the-scenes
authority or persuasion to pre-determine which issues require decisions (and which do
not), and who can access the decision-making arena. Unlike the first definition, where
power is the ability to decide, here power is the ability to prevent a decision from being
made at all. Power is still observable, intentional, and active, exercised when interests

23

conflict. But it is exercised covertly, and deemed successful when the decision-making
process effectively excludes opposing interests.
Both of these dimensions assume that power stems from observable conflict. But
there is a third definition of power: manipulation (Lukes, 1981). One actor can persuade
another to act contrary to his own interests, or shape the interests of the opposition so that
they are no longer in conflict. Power is therefore the ability to change the perceptions and
preferences of the opposition so that they comply with the dominant actor. In the first two
dimensions of power, conflict is observable. It exists when there is a contradiction
between the interests of actors. In the first dimension, the interests of the dominated party
are stated, included, and then defeated. In the second, the interests of the dominated party
are stated, then excluded. But in the third, conflict is latent. The true interests of the
dominated are excluded because the dominated do not express them, are not aware of
them, or believe it is in their best interest to comply with the dominant.
Using power – resources and strategies. Regardless of whether actors use direct
authority, constraint, or manipulation, according to power theory the “use” of power has
two requirements. First, an actor must have resources that are valuable to another.
Second, an actor must have the ability and desire to strategically leverage those resources
in order to direct, constrain, or manipulate another.
Power resources are the assets that actors use to influence others. For this work, I
combine concepts from different classification systems and characterize resources as
belonging to one of four categories: material, social, positional, and knowledge
(Bourdieu, 1986; Etzioni, 1968; Fowler, 2009; French & Raven, 1959; M. Mann, 1993;

24

Pfeffer & Cialdini, 2003; Wrong, 1968). Material resources include money, assets, time,
and patronage (for the superintendent, patronage is represented by control over hiring; for
the union, it is control over its membership). Social resources are allies, followers, and
the potential to mobilize, motivate, or control them, as well as personality factors such as
popularity, status, visibility, and perceived trustworthiness. Positional resources include
the rules and norms that give actors access to decision-making, direct control over others,
or the opportunity to access material resources, the political system, or the media. Finally,
knowledge resources include information and its control (both specialized and of how the
system works), intelligence, and communication skills (Bourdieu, 1986; Etzioni, 1968;
Fowler, 2009; French & Raven, 1959; M. Mann, 1993; Pfeffer & Cialdini, 2003; Wrong,
1968).
Power strategies are the actions that actors take when they leverage their
resources. An actor isn’t powerful solely because he or she has a stockpile of resources;
actors must also have the “skill and will” to use their resources to influence policy
(Baldwin, 1979; Etzioni, 1968; Kipnis, 1976; Wrong, 1968). A large membership, high
status, or financial assets from member dues are only potential power resources for a
union until they are used through a mobilization campaign, an endorsement of a
candidate, or a strike. The threat of action, both explicit and tacit, is a strategy as well
(Bourdieu, 1991; Lehman, 1969; Lukes, 1974, 2005) – a promise to strike or the fear of
repercussions from a superintendent with control over hiring decisions can be just as
influential as an actual strike or firing.

25

For this study I combined concepts drawn from political and organizational
theories to designate three features of each power strategy: description, location, and
goal. First, strategies can simply be described by the action itself. Examples of strategy
descriptions include donating money to a school board candidate, controlling the agenda
of a board meeting, or interfering in union elections. Second, strategies can be organized
by their location. They are either macropolitical – used by an external actor to influence
the internal processes of the political system – or micropolitical – used by actors internal
to the system itself. Donating money to a candidate is a macropolitical strategy while
controlling a board meeting agenda is a micropolitical one. The location of a particular
strategy affects an actor’s access to resources, and the dimension in which they use them.
Actors in the macropolitical system – districts as institutions, and unions as external
interest groups – are more likely to use direct authority or constraint because they have
legitimate, institutionalized, and relatively stable access to diverse resources (Lehman,
1969). They can also more easily use threats because others know that they have the
power resources to back them up (Lehman, 1969; Wrong, 1968). Micropolitical actors
are more likely to use persuasion because their resources are more narrow and normative;
individuals rely more often on status, trustworthiness, or information, but often do not
have the power to force or constrain action on their own (Lehman, 1969).
Third, I classify strategies by their goal. Each action has an intended outcome as it
relates to the opposition. The goal of one actor may be to dominate, exclude, manipulate,
persuade, placate, marginalize, or undermine another. Donating money to a candidate is
an attempt to persuade; the goal of controlling an agenda is to manipulate or exclude.

26

Inclusion and collaboration are also possible goals. Some actors may feel that they cannot
achieve their own objectives without the help of another (Brunner, 1998). Later in this
chapter, I describe the specific strategies used in education politics.
Alternative perspectives of power. In this work, I took a behavioralist
perspective and defined power as the deliberate use of a resource and strategy by one
actor in order to dominate another. I observed the actions and reactions of actors as they
attempted to influence one another within their particular environments, and compared
their actions to the range of other possible choices. I acknowledged three other views on
the use power – the structural, sociological, and radical/interpretive perspectives – by
integrating concepts from those fields into the power resources and environmental factors
to which actors are responding.
7

The structural conception of power posits that an individual’s position within an
organization’s hierarchy and social networks dictates the resources to which he has
access, the actions he is permitted to take, and whether or not others will respond to those
actions (Brass, 1984; Kanter, 1979; McCall, 1979; Salancik & Pfeffer, 1977; Weber,
1978). Power comes from legitimacy, and the more legitimate authority an individual has
the more likely others are to obey their commands. In this work, I conceptualized
structural power not as a guarantee that an individual can dominate another, but rather as
a resource that an individual might use in order to influence the actions of another. I
accounted for structural power with the concept of positional power resources.

7
I discuss environmental factors in more detail later in this section.

27

The sociological perspective of power upholds that an individual’s power does
not come solely from his position in an organization’s hierarchy but also from
interactions among individuals (Foucault, 1980). While legitimate authority is an
important resource, it does not automatically secure obedience. Rather, actors are more
likely to respond to the use of authority or influence by others when compliance to
certain behaviors is standard practice (Giddens, 1971; May & Finch, 2009). Likewise,
actors are more likely to successfully use power when they belong to informal social
networks within an organization (Krackhardt, 1990) and when they know how to
successfully navigate an organization’s networks and practices (Pettigrew, 1973; Pfeffer,
1994). I represented normalized behaviors with the environmental factor of
organizational structure: certain structures render actors’ influence strategies more likely
to work, because an organization’s norms might encourage compliance to certain actors
and actions. I included systemic knowledge as part of knowledge resources, and networks
and allies as one component of social resources.
Finally, the radical/interpretive view of power diverges from the behavioralist
perspective because the former maintains that influence does not necessarily come from
deliberate action. With the radical view, Lukes (2005) integrates Bourdieu’s (1991)
concept that power can be the result of deliberate action or the unintentional consequence
of an actor embodying aspects of the hegemonic culture. Even if they do not mean to
influence or dominate others, actors may have certain personal characteristics such as
gender, race, experience, or style of speaking that represent the dominant culture of an
organization or society. Others unconsciously defer to actors who have these

28

characteristics. The interpretive perspective takes a similar but broader approach: an actor
can unintentionally influence others because they have the traits of the dominant culture
or because they are charismatic, congenial, and trustworthy (Clegg 1994, Giddens 1971;
Weber 1978).
As with structural and sociological power, being able to wield radical or
interpretive power because an actor has certain personal characteristics does not
guarantee that he will successfully dominate others, but it does make others more likely
to respond to his use of power strategies. To reconcile the behaviorist view, which treats
power as observable actions and reactions, and the radical/interpretive view, which also
includes power as the reaction to the unintended influence of personal characteristics, I
introduced “personal traits” as an environmental factor. These traits encompass the
symbolic power (Bourdieu, 1991) held by individuals because they have certain
characteristics to which others naturally succumb. Certain personal traits make a
(deliberate) action more likely to work; for example, an administrator with many years of
experience in a community may be more likely than a new administrator to influence a
board member, even if both administrators employ the same deliberate power strategy.
This assumes, however, that experience is valued by the organization, an assumption that
does not hold true in all situations – this is why I classify personal traits as a contextual
factor rather than a resource. I discuss personal traits in more detail later in this section.
The Theoretical Balance of Power: Strategies and Determinants
Power is not an inherent property of an individual or group. Instead, it is relational
(Foucault, 1980; Lehman, 1969). Actors are only powerful when they are more powerful

29

than the person or group whose interests are counter to their own (Bourdieu, 1986;
Bryson & Crosby, 1992). In this section, I detail the macro- and micropolitical power
strategies used by actors in education governance systems. Next, I introduce five
important environmental factors that shape the way power is distributed among district
actors: institutional context, community structure, organizational structure, public
opinion, and personal traits. I describe how these factors influence the choice of power
strategy, and whether or not that strategy will be successful. In the following section, I
explore the empirical literature on the prevalence of such strategies as used by school
boards, superintendents, and teachers’ unions, and whether they have proven successful.
8

Macropolitics: Influence Strategies of External Actors
External actors can individually pressure the legitimate political system to
respond to their demands, or they can organize themselves into interest groups7F
9
Interest
group theory, a subset of political systems theory, posits that organized collective action
is the most effective way that external actors – students, parents, employees, voters,
taxpayers, businesses, religious organizations, corporations, foundations, and advocates –
influence the legitimate political system (Olson, 1965; Truman, 1971).
10
Interest groups

8
As explained in Chapter 1, the focus on teachers’ unions is not meant to suggest that no other interest
groups are active in local education politics. The PTA, other parent and community organizations, and
other employee unions may also use the strategies outlined here, but they highlighted here since only
unions are both interest group and internal actor, and the teachers is the most influential union among them.

9
An interest group is broadly defined as any association of individuals, whether formally organized or not,
separate from the government, that attempts to influence public policy (Thomas & Hrebenar, 1992; Wilson,
1990). Groups that are involved in community affairs but do not seek to influence government action, and
political parties that can both endorse and nominate candidates, are not included as interest groups.

10
Other influence mechanisms include direct, representative, and deliberative democracy, issue networks,
advocacy coalitions, and urban regimes (Berry, 1989; Feuerstein, 2002; Heclo, 1978; Held, 2006; Lutz &

30

in education can play a role in board election campaigns, ballot initiatives, research
production, legislation and lobbying, and decisions about curriculum (Opfer, et al., 2008).
They can also influence the behavior of individual citizens by encouraging them to vote,
participate in school board meetings, sign up for district advisory committees, support
new education initiatives with additional taxes, join advocacy groups, petition, protest,
engage in negative media campaigns, or leave the district.
Over the last several decades, the activity of interest groups in education has
increased dramatically at all levels of government (Bjork & Lindle, 2001; Salisbury,
1992; Spring, 1998). External groups now employ a variety of macropolitical strategies to
ensure that school districts are responsive to their demands. The three general types of
macropolitical strategies are policymaking, issue/image, and electoral (Wilson, 1990).
In the policymaking area, interest groups such as unions try to sway legislators to
adopt new policies and change or eliminate existing ones (Gerber, 1999; Hrebenar, 1997;
Opfer, et al., 2008). The most common activity is direct lobbying. Typical strategies
include contacting board members and superintendents, formally testifying before boards
or committees, presenting board members with research or polling data, helping draft
board action items, serving on advisory boards, or using personal relationships to make
informal contact with policymakers (Balla & Wright, 2001; Hrebenar, 1997; Kimbrough,
1964; Kollman, 1998; Poole, 1999). Interest groups can also use indirect policymaking
strategies, such as undertaking media campaigns or interviews, publishing reports,
mobilizing other teachers, starting a grassroots campaign in the community, organizing

Iannaccone, 2008; Mawhinney, 2001; Opfer, Young, & Fusarelli, 2008; Sabatier, 1988; Shipps, 2008; C. N.
Stone, 2006; Zeigler, Jennings, & Peak, 1974).

31

letter-writing or online campaigns, protesting, and striking (or threatening to do any of
those activities) (Hrebenar, 1997; Kollman, 1998; Opfer, et al., 2008; Poole, 1999).
Rather than focusing on a specific policy, interest groups can instead lobby an
issue or image (Brown & Waltzer, 2002; Dwyre, 2002; Poole, 1999). Through issue
lobbying – bringing attention to a new issue or offering a potential solution to an existing
problem – unions can effectively set the agenda of a board, board candidate,
superintendent, and even the public (Kingdon, 1995; Masters & Delaney, 2005;
Richardson, 1993). Agenda control may actually be the most influential possible use of
political power (Schattschneider, 1960). For example, teachers’ unions can present expert
information to the board on the importance of smaller classes without actually lobbying
for any class size policy in particular, or mobilize parents to support smaller class sizes
and encourage them to appeal to the board. Unions can also strategically define or
redefine terms (like “fair” evaluation or “high-quality” teacher); this in turn will affect
how boards, superintendents, and the public frame an issue (Coburn, 2006; Leech,
Baumgartner, Berry, Hojnacki, & Kimball, 2002) and ultimately can influence how
districts design policy to address that issue. Finally, unions can enhance their own image
by entering into partnerships with other well-liked community organizations, generating
grass-roots support, and appealing to the public or the press (Brown & Waltzer, 2002;
Poole, 1999).
11

11
Democratic theory uses the terms “interest group politics” and “macropolitics” interchangeably.
Macropolitics are political actions done by external interest groups. However, this definition ignores the
fact that internal actors can use macropolitical strategies too. For example, superintendents can align
themselves with community organizations to improve their image just as union leaders can. In this work, I
defined “interest group politics” as the actions of external groups, regardless of the location of that action.
Similarly, “macropolitical strategies” refers to the location of the strategy, not the location of the person

32

The third area of interest group political activity is electoral politics: interest
groups work to elect a favorable candidate or attempt to sway candidates and incumbents
to support the group’s position (G. S. Becker, 1983; Grossman & Helpman, 2001; Moe,
2006b). Teachers’ unions have a number of resources from which to draw when engaging
in this type of politics. They have material assets in the form of membership dues and
contributions (Loomis & Cigler, 2002). Members are a significant social resource when
they mobilize on behalf of a school board candidate and recruit other volunteers. Some
unions have clout in their name and reputation, powerful because voters are likely to
follow the cues of established groups that they find trustworthy or whose values they
believe align with their own, especially on technical or unfamiliar issues (Downs, 1957;
Gilens & Murakawa, 2002; Masters & Delaney, 1986).
Unions leverage these resources by providing endorsements (Potters, Sloof, &
Van Winden, 1997), donating to candidates (Denzau & Munger, 1986; Grossman &
Helpman, 2001), campaigning through phone, mail, digital, or door-to-door campaigns
(Brown & Waltzer, 2002; Cibulka, 2001; Kollman, 1998), recruiting, training, and
advising candidates (Cigler & Loomis, 2002; Samuels, 2011), and encouraging their
members to vote.
Micropolitics: Influence Strategies of Internal Actors
Boards, superintendents, and unions can also affect the way the legitimate
political system translates demands into outcomes by acting micropolitically, from inside
the system itself (Ball, 1987; Hoyle, 1982; Iannaccone, 1975; Malen & Cochran, 2008;

using the strategy. So actors internal to the legitimate political system can use macropolitical strategies, as
can interest groups. I address this limitation of political theory further in Chapter 6.

33

Willower, 1991). Examples of micropolitical strategies are determining meeting agendas
(Ball, 1987; Fager, 1993; Grogan & Blackmon, 2001; Malen, 1994b; Malen & Ogawa,
1988; D. Mann, 1974; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2001), controlling the composition of
decision-making or advisory committees (Achinstein, 2002; Bryk, Easton, Kerbow,
Rollow, & Sebring, 1993; Goldring, 1993; Hanson, 1981; Malen, Ogawa, & Kranz, 1990;
C. H. Weiss & Cambone, 1994), deliberately exchanging autonomy in one policy area for
conformity in another (Blase, 1988; Willower, 1991), and creating or downplaying a
crisis (D. Mann, 1974; White, 2007). Although the specific strategies that actors use to
leverage power resources have been studied at the school level during policy
implementation (see, for example, Blase & Bjork, 2010; Malen, 1994b; Malen &
Cochran, 2008 for reviews of the empirical literature), there have been no studies of
internal actors’ use of power strategies at the level of a school district during policy
design.
Determinants of the Balance of Power
The above discussion frames the power resources available to district actors and
discusses what strategies they might use to leverage those resources. In Figure 2.1, these
strategies and resources are represented by the dashed black (micro) and solid black
(macro) arrows. However, the resources actors actually access and the strategies actors
use to leverage those resources are not simply a matter of choice. Rather, resource
accessibility and distribution, and strategy selection and success, are guided by the
context – both external and internal – in which district actors operate.

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The external contextual factors – institutional context, community structure, and
public opinion – and the internal contextual factors – organizational structure and
personal traits – are shown in Figure 2.1. These factors shape the actual distribution of
available resources, the type, location, and goal of the strategies that actors use to
leverage their resources, and whether or not those strategies can successfully influence
decision-making so that actors can protect their interests. In this section, I describe how
environmental factors might affect the balance of power in a school district.
Institutional context. The entire sociopolitical institution of education is
embedded in a context that promotes, constrains, and excludes some policy decisions
(Bennett & Hansel, 2008; Burlingame, 1988; DiMaggio & Powell, 1983; Easton, 1957;
Lawrence & Lorsh, 1967; March & Olsen, 1989; Richardson, 1993; Scott, 2008). Some
of these considerations are practical: state and federal mandates give districts total
discretion over certain decisions, while in other cases districts are responsible for
interpreting and implementing a prescribed policy. In still other instances, such as
educating students with disabilities, districts are given no leeway at all and must follow
state and federal law. Districts are also limited by how much money they have in reserve
and how much revenue they receive from external sources.
A district’s environmental and demographic variables such as population age,
socioeconomic status, education level, race and ethnicity, language, religion, diversity,
political affiliation (Bjork, 2005; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2001) also affect resource
availability and strategy use. Changes in these variables, such as an aging population,
increasing diversity, or decreasing wealth level will impact policy as well (Berkman &

35

Plutzer, 2005). The size, location, and urbanicity of a district also matter (Burlingame,
1988); large urban districts tend to have more active interest groups, unions included
(Hess & Leal, 2005; Hess & Meeks, 2011; Moe, 2005, 2009), and are faced with solving
more complex challenges using more restricted budgets than their smaller, suburban or
rural counterparts (Grissom, 2010).
Demographics are important because they are related to constituent values. Some
of the largest decisions that boards and superintendents make are value-laden and
therefore particularly important to voters (Eliot, 1959; D. A. Stone, 2002). Curriculum
and instruction, for example, have been subjects of conflict for as long as school boards
have existed because their discussion often involves religious or cultural values (Banks,
1993; Goodson, 1993; Loveless, 2002; Opfer, 2005). Finance is another historically
contentious issue. Parents, employees, and property owners may have different views on
how fiscally conservative a district should be, how it should prioritize spending the
monies it does not save, and whether raising local taxes or passing bond measures are
desirable ways to raise capital (Ehrenberg, Ehrenberg, Smith, & Zhang, 2002; Eliot,
1959). An individual’s opinion on value-laden issues is to a certain degree related to his
or her general political ideology and party affiliation. Conservatives and liberals,
Republicans and Democrats, have traditionally held different views on how districts
should educate children, raise money through taxes and bonds, spend or save resources,
and govern themselves (Cibulka, 1999; Eliot, 1959; Keedy & Bjork, 2002; Kimbrough,
1964; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2008; Shor, 1992; C H Weiss, 1995). Demographics also
affect the public’s characterization of unions – heavily Democrat, liberal communities

36

tend to be more union-friendly (Fried, 2008) – and a union will have difficulty using
interest group strategies successfully if the voters are predisposed against them.
Organizational structure. While the entire political system is embedded in a
larger institutional environment, it also has its own internal organizational structure – the
rules, regulations, norms, traditions, and cultures of a district (Malen, 2006; March &
Simon, 1958; Rowan & Miskel, 1999). These rules and traditions limit some actions
while permitting or encouraging others, and determine the way that resources are
distributed among internal actors (Ogawa, Sandholtz, Martinez-Flores, & Scribner, 2003;
Rowan & Miskel, 1999). The result is that some actors have a comparative advantage in
resources, and are more able to leverage them successfully.
For example, districts have formal rules that define what board members and
superintendents can do. There may be codified ways in which unions are involved in
decision-making, such as provisions in the collective bargaining agreement that require
union participation on certain district committees. Districts also establish de facto norms
for decision-making around activities like superintendent autonomy, consultation with
union leaders, or deference to the board president. Administrators and unions may have
semiformal arrangements for mediating conflict before decisions even reach the board
(Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970). Districts also have ‘authorized’ core values and preferences
that are reinforced by decision-makers within the system (Kimbrough, 1964; Wirt &
Kirst, 1972). These traditions are diverse – for example, some districts are historically
financially conservative. They keep large amounts of money in reserve, and when they do
spend money it is carefully invested in physical assets. Others are less conservative,

37

preferring to maintain minimal reserves while spending more on programs and salaries.
District decision-makers maintain these traditions because it is simply the way things are
done. To be successful, power strategies must fit with these existing traditions.
Community structure. Community structure refers to the existing relationship
between the political system and the public. Because board members are elected by the
public, superintendents are chosen by the board, and interest groups are strong only when
they have the backing of the community, the distribution of resources is linked to the
existing community structure. Like organizational structure, community structure also
limits some power strategies while encouraging others. The more resources an actor has,
and the more permissive a community is in allowing actors to leverage those resources,
the more influential that actor will be. Further, depending on the influence of outside
groups, administrators and board members may take on the role of protectors of their
organization, fending off what they see as intrusions of external pressure campaigns
(Willower, 1991).
Democratic theory presents four basic community structures: pluralist, factional,
dominated, and inert. If interest groups rather than individuals hold power, the system is
either pluralist or factional. Pluralism is a competitive model in which multiple, diverse
interest groups negotiate with one another (Baumgartner & Leech, 1998; Dahl, 2005;
Held, 2006; Kimbrough, 1964; Lindblom & Woodhouse, 1993; Wilson, 1990). The
government then responds to the results of these negotiations and creates policy that
reflects the common good (Bentley, 1908, 2005; Truman, 1971). In a pluralist school
district, a variety of interest groups – employee unions, parent and parent/teacher

38

associations (PTAs), community and religious groups, business organizations, state
school board associations (SBAs), and local political organizations – debate and compete
amongst themselves, decide what is in the best interest of the public that they represent,
and present policymakers with those demands. The distribution of power is not fixed;
rather, it is constantly changing based on the interactions among groups as they choose to
become more or less involved on issues that are important to them.
Pluralism assumes that power, especially in the form of access to government, is
equally available to all groups should they choose to seek it (Bachrach, 1967; Barry,
1973; Baumgartner & Leech, 1998; Kimber, 1981; Wilson, 1990). One alternative to
pluralism is factionalism, in which power is fixed within a few dominant groups. The
majority of the elected officials of the political system represent the faction with the most
influence at any given time. Neocorporatism is a special type of factionalism in which
some groups are fundamentally advantaged over others because they are closely
associated with or invited by the legitimate political system (Dahl, 1966; Lindblom,
1977; Lipset, 1962; Salisbury, 1992; Walker, 1966). The factions with power vary from
district to district. In some, employee unions are particularly influential because they
have greater access to the legitimate political system than other groups do – they not only
negotiate many policies directly with the district, but boards and superintendents can also
invite them to consult on non-negotiated issues (and unions may even negotiate contract
provisions requiring that they be consulted on such policies). In others, the PTA,
business, religious, or community organizations may be dominant factions. Invitation is
particularly important in the case of the PTA, because it cannot legally engage in certain

39

interest group activities like participating in political campaigns, while employee unions
and other organized interest groups can.
Both pluralism and factionalism assume that power is distributed among interest
groups; in a pluralist model, power is contested and fluid, while in a factional model it is
fixed. There are two additional models which can describe a school district: dominated
and inert. In a dominated system, power is held by a few powerful individuals, usually
members of the economic elite. Decision-making is dominated by elite values
(Kimbrough, 1964). In an inert model, power is latent and uncontested. Decisions reflect
the status quo, and no radical experimentation is accepted (McCarty & Ramsey, 1971).
Community structure is therefore an important environmental factor for two
reasons. First, external groups may successfully pressure internal actors to make
decisions that protect group interests. Second, if district leaders have ties to certain
factions, they are more likely to be responsive to those factions’ demands even if the
pressure to respond is not overt.
Public opinion. Another important factor that affects the balance of power in a
district is the public’s opinion of district leaders (Bjork & Lindle, 2001; Hess, 1999;
Johnson, 1984; McCarty & Ramsey, 1971). If voters believe that the values of their
leaders are aligned with their own, they will trust leaders’ decisions without conflict
(Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970). If district leaders are concerned that their position is at risk
because the public does not see them as representative of their values, the leaders are
more inclined to be responsive to public demands. The public can also call for

40

decentralization of power to the schools if they are dissatisfied with a superintendent’s
leadership (Eliot, 1959; C H Weiss, 1995).
Personal traits. Finally, there are attributes of the individuals involved in power
interactions that make their strategies likely to affect the behavior of other actors. Some
traits are influential because they are characteristics of the members of the culture that is
dominant in society overall or in the social context of a defined geographical area
(Bourdieu, 1991; Hallett, 2003). These traits can include gender, education, family
background, political ideology, religion and values, perceived alliances with favored
groups, and motivation for seeking office (Levi & Stoker, 2000; Schneider & Ingram,
1993). If the dominant culture, for example, is white, male, educated, affluent,
Republican, and anti-union, then the actions of an individual who has these traits are
more likely to influence decision-making then the actions of an individual who does not.
An actor can also be more powerful if he has traits that the organization considers
persuasive (Hallett, 2003). Organizations have unique social contexts, within which
certain personal or behavioral traits are influential – for example, actors in one district
may be more likely to respond to a logical argument, while actors in another may be
more persuaded by an emotional appeal because over many years such responses have
become standard practice. In the former district, therefore, an actor who has the personal
trait of rational thinking is more likely to successfully influence decision-making than an
actor who is perceived to be passionate, while in the latter district the opposite would be
true.

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Personal characteristics also affect others indirectly because having certain traits
may make an actor seem more trustworthy, which in turn makes others more likely to be
influenced by them. Honesty, intelligence, open-mindedness, and personal history are
traits which increase perceived trustworthiness (Currall, 1992; Petersen & Short, 2001;
Sasso, 2002). Like culturally- and organizationally-defined traits, these traits that increase
trust are often tied to an actor’s personal or group identity; such traits are not easily
defined but ultimately affect the behavior of other actors in power interactions (Bourdieu,
1991; Tanis & Postmes, 2005).
The Observed Balance of Power: Boards, Superintendents, and Unions
To this point, I have provided a theoretical model for school districts as political
institutions; I used political systems and organizational theories to describe how a district
translates external and internal demands into board policies, negotiated contracts, and
administrative actions. I then integrated concepts from power theory to frame the way
that actors use power resources and strategies to influence the translation process. Finally,
I identified five factors that can influence the choice and success of those strategies.
In the following review, I present the empirical literature on how district actors
actually use power to influence decisions as they negotiate among themselves to protect
their interests and the interests of those they represent. First, I review the role of school
boards and superintendents in the district decision-making process: I describe the
research on the effects of environmental factors on the actions and resources of board
members and superintendents, examine the literature on the strategies used by boards and
superintendents to ensure a favorable balance of power for themselves, and present

42

findings on the success of those strategies. Next, I describe teachers’ unions and the
effects that they have on district decision-making in their three traditional roles: as
negotiators, as invited participants, and as interest groups.
While there is substantial research on board members, administrators, and
teachers’ unions as individual entities, unfortunately, the literature on the political
interactions among them is limited. The work on superintendents and boards tends to
focus on the processes of interaction but does not examine how those interactions affect
policy outcomes (Willower, 1991). There are no aggregate data on the decisions of local
school boards, intra-board dynamics have received only minimal attention, and the
literature on the board-superintendent relationship is based around themes of effective
leadership and management, not policy design (Crowson, 1987; Grissom, 2010; Kirst,
1994; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2008; Wirt & Kirst, 2005). Much of the descriptive work uses
single-district case studies or anecdote and is not generalizable (Morton, 1999). In
contrast, most of the studies on the effects of unions on district decisions have
concentrated on the outcomes of decision-making, especially those related to collective
bargaining. The ways in which unions leverage their power resources during the
decision-making process have only recently received attention.
In this review, I include only studies that provide significant evidence for
trustworthiness. For qualitative research, trustworthiness requires that the researchers
used data triangulation, reasonable sampling logic, and stringently applied requirements
for generalization, especially if the authors have drawn causal conclusions. All of the
qualitative studies included here meet these stringent criteria for trustworthiness (Tierney

43

& Clemens, 2011), as applied by both myself and other scholars who have also reviewed
the work.
The quantitative work reviewed here must also meet high standards for validity
and reliability, although the criteria for validity varied with the specific methodology of
the research. The descriptive work of Glass et al. (2000), Glass and Franceschini (2007),
Kowalski et al. (2011) and Hess and Meeks (2011) are excellent models of rigor: they
specifically address construct validity and give evidence that their samples are random
and representative of the national population of board members and superintendents. Moe
(2009) and Strunk and Grissom (2010) are standards for explanatory work, as they fully
justify their empirical models and provide support for both internal and external validity.
Both qualitative and quantitative work must speak to bias and how it was avoided.
Finally, even if empirical research provides sufficient evidence for validity and
trustworthiness, the conclusions drawn from the research might still have significant
limitations, which I address at the conclusion of the following review.
School Boards and Superintendents in Practice
In theory, the school board drives district policy. It may take community demands
and superintendent recommendations into account when making policy decisions, but it is
not bound to them. The board then delegates the implementation of policies to the
superintendent and administrators. However, the literature has shown that, in practice, the
distribution of power among boards, superintendents, and the public is highly contested
(Mountford, 2008). Historically, there has been a constant disequilibrium between lay
control and professional expertise, and the boundary between governance and

44

administration has been blurred for decades (Tallerico, 1989). Some board members are
more responsive to the demands of their constituents, whereas others prioritize the
recommendations of the superintendent. Similarly, some superintendents defer to the
board’s policy mandates while others actively direct them (Blumberg & Blumberg, 1985;
Cistone, 2008; Greene, 1992; Lutz & Gresson, 1980; Tucker & Zeigler, 1980). Below, I
discuss the research on how organizational and community structure, public opinion,
personal traits, and institutional context have affected the amount of power reserved for
the board or designated to the superintendent. I also review the findings on the effects of
these factors on the degree of influence that external interests and internal actors have
over district decision-making.
Effects of organizational structure. In an over-simplified division of
responsibilities, board members are legislators while superintendents are executives. As
the actual roles of the board and superintendent vary from district to district, the amount
of influence each has over district policies and other decisions varies as well. Within an
organization, political behavior is determined by what actors think is appropriate, what is
expected of them, and what they are allowed to do (Marshall & Mitchell, 1991). Board
members and administrators work within their existing spheres of influence to shape the
actions of others, and each works to expand their own sphere of influence as well; in
order to understand how each participates in district decision-making, therefore, it is
necessary to understand the practical sphere of influence of each.
Researchers have observed that board members have multiple roles as district
leaders: as democratically-elected representatives, they stand for voter demands and

45

protect community resources; as local subordinates to the state, they implement state and
federal policy mandates; as a centralized governance system, they manage the district,
address student needs, hire the superintendent, and negotiate with unions (Bjork, 2005;
Briffault, 2005; Cuban, 1988; Danzberger & Usdan, 1994; Eliot, 1959; Howell, 2005;
Kirst, 2008; Sykes, O'Day, & Ford, 2009; Wirt & Kirst, 2005; Zeigler, et al., 1974).
Board members must contend with competing demands of democracy and economic
efficiency (Boyd & Crowson, 1981), and mediate among multiple and often conflicting
demands from students, parents, teachers, and citizens (Ehrensal & Frist, 2008; Lutz,
1975; Sykes, et al., 2009; Wirt & Kirst, 2005; Zeigler, et al., 1974). Modern boards create
local policies and resolutions, implement state and federal mandates, approve and oversee
budgets, negotiate with labor unions, make personnel decisions (including the hiring and
firing of superintendents), contract services and suppliers, and set district goals
(Hochschild, 2005).
The superintendent and administrative cabinet’s role is to implement and manage
the boards’ decisions, inform members on district operations and status, write district
policy based on board priorities, and handle operations such as budget and finance,
human resources, facilities and maintenance, transportation, food services, special
education compliance, and curricular decisions (Cuban, 1988; Kowalski, 2006; Lashway,
2002; Merz, 1986). The superintendent is also a district’s instructional leader, often its
chief politician, and more recently its applied social scientist (Bjork, 2008; Bjork &
Lindle, 2001; Boyd, 1974; Callahan, 1962; Carter & Cunningham, 1997; B. S. Cooper &
Boyd, 1987; Cronin, 1973; Cuban, 1976; Howlett, 1993; Kowalski, 2005; Petersen &

46

Barnett, 2005; Spring, 1994; Tyack & Hansot, 1982). The position requires maintaining
relationships with the school board, district employees, and organized groups like unions,
parent organizations, and community groups. Even the most successful superintendents
do not have enough individual power to accomplish their goals, so these connections are
crucial (Grogan & Blackmon, 2001; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2008; C. N. Stone, Henig,
Jones, & Pierannunzi, 2001).
As districts have become more complex, the boundary between the work of the
board and the superintendent has blurred (Danzberger & Usdan, 1994; Land, 2002). The
shifting boundaries have altered the sphere of influence of administrators and board
members, expanding it in some cases and contracting it in others, and changed the
balance of power within the district. One striking example is in policy-making. Once the
exclusive purview of the school board, superintendents frequently manage a district’s
policy agenda on behalf of the board members, and central office administrators rather
than board members draft policy (Ehrensal & Frist, 2008; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2001).
Board members now report that they spend the majority of their time on administration
and responding to citizens and less than ten percent of it on policy (Hochschild, 2005). In
addition, the superintendent or a central office staff member, usually the assistant
superintendent for human resources, often serves as the school board’s designee during
contract negotiations (Sharp, 1989; Strunk & Zeehandelaar, unreleased data).
Effects of community structure. Community structure also affects the observed
responsiveness of a board to its constituents, and the amount of power delegated to the
superintendent (Bjork & Gurley, 2005; Bjork & Keedy, 2001; Burlingame, 1988;

47

McCarty & Ramsey, 1971). Communities that have historically been dominated by
powerful individuals or groups have school boards that are more susceptible to
community demands, but there is not much debate among board members. They also
have superintendents who implement the policies designed by the board, rather than
establishing policy themselves. Neocorporate or factional communities, with power
concentrated within a few external interests, have factional boards where individual board
members consistently respond to a particular interest and superintendents who act as
political strategists. If a community is pluralist, rather than factional, power among
interests is fluid. School board members are active but not rigidly bound to a particular
interest, and power is equally distributed among board members. The superintendent is
the professional advisor, using research and experience to make recommendations which
are debated by the board. Inert communities in which power is latent or dictated by the
status quo have board members that follow the lead of the superintendent and hold views
that are aligned with the value of the community (Bjork & Gurley, 2005; Bjork & Keedy,
2001; McCarty & Ramsey, 1971).
Effects of public opinion. Public opinion is another environmental factor that
shapes the behavior of district actors during decision-making. If the public does not
believe a school district is properly translating their values and demands into policy
outputs, there is conflict between district leaders and constituents (Greene, 1992).
Dissatisfaction theory posits that school board elections are more competitive when a
large amount of conflict exists; voters try to oust incumbent board members and replace
them with candidates with whom they share values and ideologies (Iannaccone & Lutz,

48

1970). By the theory of electoral accountability, when elected officials are concerned
about being reelected they are more responsive to their constituents (Prewitt, 1970),
especially on issues like curriculum and facilities where they have the potential to gain,
or alienate, a significant number of voters (Hess, 1999). If a district has competitive
elections, the demands of the public could therefore supersede the recommendations of
the superintendent when a board makes decisions. Taken together, this suggests that
districts with competitive elections or high frequencies of incumbent defeat are more
likely to have boards that are more responsive to the public and less so to the
superintendent (Adkison, 1982; Greene, 1992).
Effects of personal traits. Research indicates that personal traits play an
important role in the interactions that determine the balance of power in a district. Board
members run for a variety of reasons, ranging from the desire to improve student
achievement to a commitment to American public education to an aspiration for
increased professional prestige (Glass & Franceschini, 2007; Hess & Meeks, 2011;
Mountford, 2004); those who felt civic duty to the general community behave differently
than those who wanted to improve conditions for a particular constituency or fix a
specific problem. Those who were recruited by community groups, unions, or sitting
board members are initially less independent than those who were not (Zeigler, et al.,
1974). Many board members are members of local business, parent, religious, or
community organizations, or have been in the past (Zeigler, et al., 1974). Whether or not
their children attend school in the district, or if they have a personal relationship with
teachers or administrators also influences board member behavior (Hess & Meeks, 2011).

49

Similarly, because liberals and conservatives differ in how they conceive of the purpose
of government, political ideology shapes whether board members believe they should
take a dominant role or be receptive to the recommendations of the professionals and the
demands of the public (Cibulka, 1999). Individuals also differ in the value they place on
collaboration and shared decision-making (Brunner, 1998). Finally, knowledge and
trustworthiness (or the appearance of being knowledgeable and trustworthy) increases an
individual’s power (Petersen & Short, 2001).
Effects of institutional context. Research has found that variables like district
size, urbanicity, homogeneity, and socioeconomic status affect how much power boards
delegate to superintendents or reserve for themselves. Boards in larger or more urban
districts are more responsive to the professional recommendations of the superintendent
rather than the political demands of their constituents (Boyd, 1976; Greene, 1992). In
smaller or more homogeneous communities, the boards more often prioritize the demands
of the citizens (Boyd, 1975). The effects of socioeconomic status is unclear; districts with
high socioeconomic status may have more professional boards (Zeigler, et al., 1974), or
the two may be unrelated (Greene, 1992).
The use of power strategies between boards and superintendents. Against the
background of a district’s environmental context, boards and superintendents frequently
conflict over how power should be delegated (Feuerstein & Opfer, 1998; Goodman,
Fulbright, & Zimmerman, 1997). The empirical literature on the board-superintendent
relationship has shown that each leverages their resources to protect a variety of interests:
parent, voter, employee, and interest group demands, organizational goals such as

50

solvency and student performance, and personal ambitions like legitimacy and job
security. Power is therefore contested, both because those interests do not coincide and
because board members and superintendents prioritize each interest differently. Many
actors believe they should have more power over decisions like budget, personnel, and
program (R. P. McAdams & Cressman, 1997; Pitner & Ogawa, 1981). Some
superintendents feel that their board is overly responsive to external demands, while
board members believe superintendents do not understand that, as elected representatives,
the board members’ primary obligation is to the public (Carter & Cunningham, 1997;
Gross, 1958; McCloud & McKenzie, 1994; Norton, Webb, & Sybouts, 1996).
Given these internal disputes, researchers found a significant amount of
maneuvering by these actors as they use various strategies to influence decision-making.
Board members render superintendents powerless by micromanaging them or giving
direct orders to cabinet members, constrain their ability to make program decisions by
enacting a district strategic plan that has programmatic and operational mandates, or
circumvent them by responding directly to parents and community members (Glass, et
al., 2000; Gross, 1958; McCloud & McKenzie, 1994; U.S. Chamber of Commerce,
2012). In turn, superintendents and other administrators use the fact that they are closer to
the site of policy implementation to act decisively on issues that do not require board
approval (Ehrensal & Frist, 2008; Land, 2002; Tallerico, 1989).
In order to protect their sphere of influence, superintendents and administrators
were found to socialize new board members (Kerr, 1964) and administrators (R. O.
Carlson, 1972; Crowson, 1987; Pettigrew, 1973) to existing organizational practices so

51

that relative power advantages remain unchallenged. For example, if district norms
dictate that administrators, not board members, drive policy, a superintendent may be
motivated to inculcate the custom in new board members so that he can keep that
particular positional resource. Socialization to existing norms limits risk taking and
discourages individuals from displaying divergent values (May & Finch, 2009). It
motivates actors to make major changes quietly, avoid moral dilemmas, appear
committed to the organization, and keep disputes private (Cline & Necochea, 2000;
Marshall & Mitchell, 1991). The hierarchy of decision-making is reified as less powerful
actors accept inequality and avoid actions that might make them vulnerable (Marshall &
Mitchell, 1991). Survey data shows that superintendents have ample opportunity to use
this strategy: The vast majority of superintendents (90% in a nationwide survey of 1,900)
provide the orientation for new school board members, nearly double the percentage that
did so ten years ago (Glass, et al., 2000; Kowalski, et al., 2011).
While researchers observed conflict between boards and superintendents,
empirical literature also shows that boards and superintendents can have a positive
working relationship. Many have a high degree of ideological consensus (Feuerstein &
Dietrich, 2003). Boards generally perceive superintendents as trustworthy experts: they
frequently seek and often defer to the superintendent’s professional expertise (Greene,
1992; Hess & Meeks, 2011; Newman & Brown, 1993; Petersen & Short, 2001), and
nearly always pass superintendent-recommended agenda items (Glass, et al., 2000;
Kowalski, et al., 2011; Petersen & Short, 2001). In turn, superintendents do not feel that
their effectiveness is significantly inhibited by the board (Glass, et al., 2000) and many

52

are willing to encourage shared decision-making because they see more power in
collaboration than in authority (Brunner, 1998).
A positive relationship, however, does not automatically mean that actors are not
using power strategies. Superintendents may feel constrained by the values of a powerful
board and therefore only propose policies that they know the board will pass (Feuerstein
& Dietrich, 2003; Petersen & Short, 2001). Along with financial management and
success in achieving goals, the board-superintendent relationship is weighted very highly
by school boards when they evaluate the superintendent (Hess & Meeks, 2011);
superintendents may be motivated by concerns over their own job security and be
particularly attentive to the demands of a powerful and popular board (Maeroff, 2010).
Conversely, the superintendent can have such a comparative advantage over
knowledge and positional resources that he can decide which problems merit board
attention and influence the written agenda for board meetings (Hess, 1999; Zeigler, et al.,
1974). Boards very rarely have sole control over their own meeting agendas. More
frequently, board members and superintendents collaborate to place items on the agenda,
or the superintendent alone determines the board agenda and initiates policy (Glass, et al.,
2000; Kerr, 1964; Petersen & Short, 2001). And while good leadership practices require
that the superintendent respond to the demands of the board, some superintendents attend
to board members as a way to placate board members they see as uninformed, politically
motivated, or unqualified (Gross, 1958; Maeroff, 2010).
The superintendent’s use of micropolitical strategies to manage the board is not
only acknowledged but encouraged by leadership experts (Burlingame, 1981; Crowson,

53

1987; Cuban, 1985). Experts justify the use of strategies by arguing that internal discord
hinders a district’s ability to make effective decisions. They also contend that
superintendents should strategically manage boards because when the two disagree, the
board has the authority to settle the issue in its favor even if that decision is politically-
motivated rather than in the interests of students (Sharp & Walter, 2004). In the extreme,
boards are portrayed to superintendents as the most significant obstacle to effectively
doing their job (Crowson, 1987; Gross, 1958).
In addition to teaching basic leadership skills such as communication,
transparency, and conflict-resolution, journal articles and books aimed at superintendents
advise them how to be politicians: how to manage boards (Sharp & Walter, 2004) and
heed the existing political culture, factions, and power structures (Callan & Levinson,
2011; Negroni, 1992). Administrators are encouraged to anticipate and avoid conflict
with the board if they can, keep the board informed but only with straightforward, narrow
information, and suffer an occasional tactical loss so that board members feel empowered
(Blumberg, 1985; Blumberg & Blumberg, 1985; Burlingame, 1981; Shannon, 1989).
While books like The Board-Savvy Superintendent (Houston & Eadie, 2002) urge
superintendents to treat boards as assets, not liabilities, it also advises that
superintendents “pay close attention to the psychological ‘care and feeding’ of board
members, focusing on meeting their ego needs, and employing strategies to build feelings
of ownership and commitment” (pg. 13). Superintendents are also told be aware that
boards resent attempts at manipulation, and that superintendents should be careful when
using such strategies (Shannon, 1989). Gaining the trust of the board is imperative; while

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much of a superintendent’s power comes from his position as gatekeeper of information
(Pitner & Ogawa, 1981; Zeigler, et al., 1974), the board will doubt that information if
they do not trust its source. And superintendents receive advice on how to keep power
when it is contested. Burlingame (1981) recommends mystification and cover-ups when
dealing with zealots, cynics, faddists, and old-liners, saying “I seriously doubt that
honesty is the best policy for superintendents who wish to retain power” (pg. 429).
Although practitioner manuals portray boards as obstacles to the superintendent
that require careful treatment, approximately 15% of superintendents nationwide reported
that their board was a liability to them (Kowalski, et al., 2011) or inhibited their
effectiveness (Glass & Franceschini, 2007), while 80% said they viewed school boards as
an asset (Kowalski, et al., 2011). So while superintendents are encouraged to manage
their boards, the superintendents themselves may not see the need to use micropolitics to
completely nullify them.
The use of power strategies among board members. Conflict over the
distribution of power is not limited to the board and superintendent. Research shows that
board members disagree among themselves about how much authority to give the
superintendent (Carol, et al., 1986; Merz, 1986), or how responsive they should be to
their immediate constituents. Intra-board conflict is higher when board members feel that
their colleagues are motivated by personal or special interests rather than collective ones
(Danzberger, 1994; Mountford, 2004). Board members who feel beholden to a particular
constituency are also more likely to micromanage the superintendent and other board
members, thereby inhibiting collaboration (Mountford & Brunner, 1999). And if the

55

community sees board members as overly responsive to special interests, motivated by
personal gain, or internally conflicted, they are less likely to be satisfied with district
leadership (Maeroff, 2010; Mountford, 2008).
But just as board-superintendent conflict is not necessarily the norm, neither is
intra-board conflict. Both superintendents and board members report that, in the far
majority of districts, board members are aligned with one another and share common
interests (Glass, et al., 2000; Strunk & Zeehandelaar, unreleased data). Board members
run for a variety of reasons, not all of them personal; many serve because they feel a
sense of civic duty or want to solve a particular problem (Alby, 1979; Cistone, 1975;
Mountford, 2004; National School Boards Association, 1975; Zazzaro, 1971).
Again, a good relationship, this time among board members, does not necessarily
mean that actors are not using power strategies to protect their interests. Many board
candidates are encouraged to run by current board members to maintain a uniformity of
values and priorities (Zeigler, et al., 1974), so unity is a natural consequence. Incumbents
use power to encourage consensus by socializing novice members to board operating
practices and established core values; this also increases the relative power of the senior
members by reinforcing existing patterns of decision-making (Cistone, 1977; Kerr,
1964). The appearance of consensus can be a power strategy itself, because boards
engaged in open conflict risk losing public confidence (Danzberger, 1994; Hess, 1999).
As a result, boards may try to reach consensus quickly and publicly so that the
superintendent, other district employees, and the community place more trust in the
board’s decisions (Firestone, 2009) and believe in their competence as leaders (Hess,

56

1999; Kerr, 1964). This helps the district maintain its legitimacy, especially in the face of
negative public opinion: “Open conflict is simply not considered legitimate in the
dominant community” (McCarty & Ramsey, 1971, pg. 45).
The success of power strategies. While the literature is clear that boards and
superintendents do use power strategies, the findings on whether and how such strategies
actually affect the balance of power are inconclusive. Although most of the work is
descriptive, three empirical pieces used democratic and organizational theory to analyze
the board-superintendent relationship. Kerr (1964) used year-long case studies of two
large districts, while McCarty and Ramsey (1971) and Zeigler et al. (1974) relied on
interviews in 51 and 83 districts, respectively. Bjork (Bjork, 2001a; Bjork & Gurley,
2005; Keedy & Bjork, 2002) combined the work and theoretical model of McCarty and
Ramsey (1971) with a descriptive study of the superintendency by Glass et al. (2000) to
further understand the board-superintendent relationship. That study surveyed nearly
2,300 superintendents nationwide. A decade later, Kowalski et al. (2011) surveyed 1,900
superintendents as a follow-up to the Glass et al. (2000) work.
Both Kerr (1964) and Zeigler et al. (1974) found that district decision-making is
dominated by the superintendent. The superintendent is the source of professional
expertise, the gatekeeper of information, and often the instigator and author of board
policies. For decisions that require board approval, the school board approves, and
therefore legitimizes, the recommendations of the superintendent without much debate.
While the board has the formal decision-making authority, they often find it difficult to
use this resource because they are multimember bodies that contend with both internal

57

and external politics (Zeigler, et al., 1974). McCarty and Ramsey (1971) also saw that
many boards defer to the professional expertise of the superintendent, but that the
superintendent’s discretion is constrained by certain community structures.
The superintendent surveys conducted by McCarty and Ramsey (1971) and Glass
et al. (2000) show that both superintendents and the community are powerful, especially
in relation to the board. When asked about their own role, virtually all of the
superintendents reported that they are either decision-makers who initiate actions that the
board easily approves, or professional advisors who balance the needs of multiple
stakeholders and give the board policy alternatives based their expert opinion. This
finding was confirmed by a follow-up survey of 1,900 superintendents a decade later
(Kowalski, et al., 2011). Additionally, two-thirds of the 2,300 superintendents reported
their boards are status-congruent, meaning that they respond to and debate the demands
of a pluralist community (Bjork & Gurley, 2005; Keedy & Bjork, 2002). Together, the
findings from these studies seem to indicate that the distribution of power in school
districts favors superintendents and community organizations, and boards find themselves
responding to the demands of both.
The general conclusion that the distribution of power favors superintendents is
supported by three additional statistics reported by Glass et al. (2000). First, more than
half of the responding superintendents said that either they or the central office staff had
the lead responsibility for developing policy, while the board assumed that role only eight
percent of the time. Approximately a third of the superintendents reported that power was
shared. Second, more than half said that the board’s primary expectation of the

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superintendent was to be an educational or political leader, while only 36% reported the
board expected them to fill their traditional role as the district’s managerial leader. Third,
superintendents take advantage of their role as mediator and communicator between the
community, the board, and the district staff. Stakeholders trust them to gather and
distribute information; in this role, a superintendent manages, and therefore influences,
the decision-making process (Pitner & Ogawa, 1981). Nine out of ten superintendents in
both 2000 and 2011 responded that they give boards recommendations on most, if not all,
issues, and that boards take their recommendations at least 90% of the time (Glass, et al.,
2000; Kowalski, et al., 2011).
While these results suggest that the superintendent may be comparatively more
powerful than the board, this does not necessarily imply that he is the most powerful
actor in the district. Superintendents only act within the small zone allowed to them by
the public (Boyd, 1975; Pitner & Ogawa, 1981), the state and federal government (Glass,
et al., 2000; Glass & Franceschini, 2007; Keedy & Bjork, 2002; Kowalski, et al., 2011),
union collective bargaining agreements (Glass, et al., 2000), and the constraints of site-
based management (Keedy & Bjork, 2002). Superintendents reported that they frequently
or always actively seek parent and community input on a variety of district decisions
(Glass, et al., 2000; Kowalski, et al., 2011). Their power is further limited because it is
often tenuous: a placid, superintendent-managed district can easily become conflicted
when an issue arises that runs against a strongly-held community value (Boyd, 1975;
Lutz & Iannaccone, 1978) or if it involves the allocation of scarce, contested resources
(Boyd, 1982). Because of these constraints, superintendents can be both “captive and

59

commander” (Tyack & Hansot, 1982), more powerful than the board but subservient to
factors beyond administrative control.
Teachers’ Unions in Practice
Along with boards and superintendents, local teachers’ unions have a significant
effect on the outcomes of district decision-making. Their participation is required during
negotiations and on committees as stipulated by the collective bargaining agreement.
They can be formally invited to district meetings, or informally consulted by board
members and administrators. And as external interest groups, they use their well-defined
membership, regular funding from dues, and a permanent administrative staff (Hrebenar,
1997; Moe, 2005) to engage in policymaking, electoral, and issue/image politics.
Teachers’ unions can leverage these resources to not only lobby for policies but to also
help elect their own management, effectively influencing the agenda of those sitting
across the bargaining table (Freeman, 1986; Moe, 2006b).
Researchers have focused on the processes of interaction between boards and
superintendents, not the outcomes of decision-making. In contract, the literature on
unions has examined one process and one outcome – electoral politics and collective
bargaining agreements. Micropolitical strategies, and other macropolitical actions
(policymaking and image politics), have not yet been studied. Negotiated provisions and
overall contract strength have received attention, but unions’ influence on board policies
and administrator actions is unknown. In this section I first review the limited literature
on how unions use power strategies to influence district decision-making. Then, I
summarize the research on union effects on negotiated outcomes.

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Teachers’ unions and decision-making processes. Teachers’ unions can use
both micro- and macropolitical strategies to influence decision-making outcomes. When
union members are internal participants to decision-making, either because their
participation is required or they are invited, they are micropolitical actors. Unions are
also macropolitical interest groups. They lobby directly for favorable board policies and
administrator actions (or protest after the fact), they engage in electoral politics, and they
can mount image campaigns to sway public opinion.
Researchers have not yet explored unions as micropolitical actors. The literature
that examines unions and negotiations studies the outcomes of negotiations, but does not
delve into the bargaining strategies negotiators actually use to gain more or less union-
favorable contract provisions.
12
Even less attention has been paid to either the processes
or the outcomes of unions as invited consultants to non-negotiated board policies and
administrator actions. Consultation usually takes the form of joint district-union
committees. These committees can be a valuable way for unions to affect the distribution
of power in a district, since union presidents report that the normal role of unions-as-
negotiators alone creates a major power asymmetry in favor of superintendents (Currall,
1992). While there is evidence to support that many contracts have provisions for teacher
participation in committees (Eberts, 1983; Finch & Nagel, 1984; McDonnell & Pascal,
1979; Perry, 1979), the few case studies that examine the effects of committee
participation focus on how district-union interaction facilitates trust, not how unions may

12
I review the outcomes of negotiation in the following section.

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use committees to influence district decisions (Grimshaw, 1979; Kerchner & Koppich,
1993; Klaus, 1968).
Unions’ use of macropolitical processes has received slightly more attention. The
small body of empirical work on unions as local interest groups focuses on electoral
politics. It seems to indicate that unions do affect school board elections, but that other
contextual variables such as district size and plurality may have confounding effects. It is
also unclear whether boards and superintendents are receptive to these strategies (Hess &
Leal, 2005). Although the prevailing assumption is that unions are powerful interest
groups because they provide school board candidates with resources during elections,
which in turn creates boards that are favorable to union interests, empirical evidence does
not yet find the link between electoral strategies and union-favorable decision-making
outcomes (Moe, 2006b). Here, I review the literature on electoral, policymaking, and
image strategies.
Several comprehensive nationwide surveys of board members revealed some
common themes in the ways that unions engage in electoral politics (Hess, 2002; Hess &
Leal, 2005; Hess & Meeks, 2011; Moe, 2005). While most board members finance their
campaigns either from personal funds or with the help of family and friends, teachers’
unions contribute to campaigns more than any other external interest group, and they give
significantly more in large districts. If there are local laws that limit campaign donations,
then the union can form a political action committee (PAC) behalf of candidates to fund
advertising, print campaign materials, and provide volunteers to walk precincts and make
telephone calls (Masters & Delaney, 2005).

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Teachers’ union support increases the likelihood that school board candidates –
both new candidates and incumbents – will be elected (Moe, 2006b). Union support is
also associated with more internal conflict among board members after they are elected
(Grissom, 2010). Yet, community and demographic factors can moderate the effects of
union support (Moe, 2005). School board members who reported active unions also saw
high levels of electoral activity from other groups, such as parent, community and
business organizations (Hess, 2002; Hess & Leal, 2005; Hess & Meeks, 2011; Moe,
2005; Rose & Sonstelie, 2010).
The only study that explored the association between electoral strategies and
decision-making outcomes found that districts have contracts that restrict the flexibility
of administrators (Strunk & Grissom, 2010). However, it is possible that unions are
highly active because they sense competition and want to maintain favorable contracts,
rather than these activities causing a contract to be favorable. Further, contextual
variables such as size and urbanicity interact with union activities (Grissom, 2010).
The assumption that unions are most influential when they contribute time,
money, endorsements, and volunteers to a candidate also fails to acknowledge two other
electoral power strategies: recruiting candidates and mobilizing members to vote in
elections (Moe, 2006b).
13

First, while unions and other community interests certainly recruit candidates
(Hess & Meeks, 2011; Zeigler, et al., 1974), the impact of recruitment is unknown
(Delaney, Fiorito, & Masters, 1988). Second, rallying union members and sympathizers

13
There is significant work on the impact of organized labor at the national level in the areas of voter
turnout and the success of electoral strategies; see Masters and Delaney (2005) for a recent review.

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can prove especially important in school board elections, where voter turnout is
traditionally low (Moe, 2006c). Unions do raise voter turnout (Clark & Masters, 2001;
Sousa, 1993). Compared to nonmembers, union members and their families are more
likely to vote for candidates endorsed by labor (Delaney, et al., 1988; Sousa, 1993).
However, union density has declined in the last three decades (Farber, 2006). In urban
areas especially, the impact of teachers-as-voters is limited because teachers may actually
live in adjacent suburbs (Hess, 1999).
Unions themselves are also sites of intra-organizational politics (Booth, 1984;
Jessup, 1978; Poole, 2000), which may dilute the effects of teachers-as-voters. Not all
union members necessarily support the position of their association (Clark & Masters,
2001; Poole, 2000; Popiel, 2011) or agree with the values and decisions of their
leadership (Black, 1983; Popiel, 2011), so mobilizing members to vote might not increase
the likelihood that a union-endorsed candidate is elected (Zullo, 2002). The ideological
disconnect between union leaders and rank-and-file members is particularly pronounced
in the teachers’ unions of large districts, where the local association president is often
more liberal than the members (Antonucci, 2010). In conservative communities, union
endorsement may actually decrease the likelihood that a candidate is elected: unions tend
to endorse liberal candidates, and teachers may vote for more conservative ones. And
because a conservative political ideology is most often associated with the Republican
party, which is traditionally wary of organized labor, conservative voters may vote
against a union-endorsed candidate (Masters & Delaney, 2005).

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As interest groups, unions’ spending is not limited to electoral politics; they also
dedicate resources to the direct lobbying of district leaders (Delaney, et al., 1988). While
unions do lobby district leaders, other interests groups do as well; the American
Association of School Administrators reported that more than 90% of the superintendents
in large urban districts said a plurality of interest groups and individuals exert political
pressure on boards through direct lobbying (Glass, et al., 2000). Unions also face
competition from internal actors. High percentages of superintendents nationwide said
that they are influenced by the school board (97%), other administrators (93%), teachers
independent of their union (84%), and parents (81%); only 46% of superintendents said
they are influenced by employee unions, 23% said they are influenced by business elites,
32% by community special interest groups, and 32% by the media. The influence of these
groups on the board is similar: superintendents reported that their boards are most
influenced by the superintendent (98%), parents (85%), administrators (81%), and
teachers (70%), with fewer percentages saying their boards are influenced by unions
(37%), business elites (24%), interest groups (36%), and the media (32%) (Kowalski, et
al., 2011).
As in electoral politics, the link between lobbying activities and decision-making
outcomes is indeterminate. To protect their professional reputation, some superintendents
ignore interest group demands and push for reforms that the public will perceive as
apolitical (Bjork & Lindle, 2001). Research has also suggested that the responsiveness of
district leaders to political pressure is varies with the status of the pressuring group.
Superintendents are more likely to choose reforms they believe will garner positive

65

political feedback from people with power in order to appeal to voters and increase their
community prestige (Bjork, 2001b; Hess, 1999; McCarty & Ramsey, 1971; V. Riley,
Conley, & Glassman, 2002). If a union is not popular with the larger community,
therefore, district leaders will not respond to union lobbying or prioritize community
demands over demands from its employees. This is the case in many districts: Eighty
percent of superintendents nationwide reported that community involvement is an asset to
schools, but only 14% said the same of employee unions (Kowalski, et al., 2011).
Numerous other studies indicated that boards and superintendents are responsive to
interest group pressure in general, but not necessarily to unions in particular (Anderson,
1992; Bjork & Gurley, 2005; Danzberger, 1992; Feuerstein & Dietrich, 2003; Greene,
1992; Jane Hannaway, 1993; Jennings & Zeigler, 1971; Newman, Brown, & Rivers,
1983). In fact, many board members report that their colleagues are unduly influenced by
community interests (Danzberger, 1994; Mountford, 2008).
Teachers’ unions and decision-making outcomes. Separate from the literature
on the processes of union influence is a body of work on the association between unions
and decision-making outcomes. Studies in the former category have explored collective
bargaining agreements in particular because they can be quantified and compared among
districts, whereas there is no comprehensive record of board policies and administrator
actions.
As the onset of teacher unionization generated interest in whether working
conditions of unionized districts were significantly different from those in non-unionized
ones, the differentials in collective bargaining outcomes between unionized and

66

nonunionized districts were well-studied in the 1970s and 1980s, More recent work
examined the unionization differential by comparing bargaining outcomes in districts
with states that allow bargaining to those that do not (Cowen, 2009; Lovenheim, 2009).
Once the majority of districts in states that allow collective bargaining became unionized,
some researchers turned to how unions of different strengths affect bargaining outcomes
in districts that are already unionized (Berkman & Plutzer, 2005; Hoxby, 1996; Moe,
2006a, 2009; P. Riley, et al., 2002; Strunk, 2011; Strunk & Grissom, 2010; Strunk &
McEachin, 2011; Strunk & Zeehandelaar, 2011; Zwerling & Thomason, 1995). Here, I
differentiate the effects of unionization from the effects of union strength. I also discuss
the different ways this literature defines “strong” unions.
The majority of the interaction between districts and unions takes place during
negotiations (Eberts & Stone, 1984), and three negotiated policies in particular –
compensation, transfer and assignment, and work rules such as schedules and class size –
have great potential to affect district spending (Hess & West, 2006). Research in this area
indicates that when teachers unionized they achieved favorable policy outcomes in these
three areas, especially higher salaries (Baird & Landon, 1972; Baugh & Stone, 1982;
Chambers, 1978; Eberts & Stone, 1984; Hoxby, 1996; Thornton, 1971). However, the
effects of unionization interact with other contextual variables and the compensation
differential may not be solely attributable to bargaining status alone (Cowen, 2009) or as
large as previously believed (Kleiner & Petree, 1988; Koedel & Betts, 2007; Lipsky &
Drotning, 1973; Lovenheim, 2009).

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Recent work has also examined the unionization effect on the terms of
compensation, rather than on the dollar amounts. Unionized districts are less likely than
non-unionized ones to offer performance-based salaries (Ballou, 2001; Goldhaber,
DeArmond, Player, & Choi, 2008). Unionized districts are also more likely to reward
experience and education, and have salary schedules that offer higher returns the longer a
teacher remains in the district (Babcock & Engberg, 1998; Ballou, 2000; Ballou &
Podgursky, 2002; Grissom & Strunk, 2011; Hess & Loup, 2008; Strunk & Grissom,
2010; Vigdor, 2008; West & Mykerezi, 2011; Winters, 2010; Zwerling & Thomason,
1995).
By studying the unionization differential, researchers asked how contract
provisions are different in districts that have unions as compared to those that do not.
Other researchers are now probing a different, more nuanced question: in districts that
have unions, what is the relationship between union strength bargaining outcomes? Like
the findings from research on unionization, the conclusions from studies on the impact of
union strength are mixed. Some studies concluded that strong unions have contracts that
favor spending on teachers; other studies disagree. However, the way that the researcher
defined “strength” may substantially influence the findings (Moe, 2009). Scholars that
use the percentage of teachers belonging to the union as a proxy for strength found that
districts with strong unions pay their teachers more (e.g. Berkman & Plutzer, 2005;
Hoxby, 1996; Rose & Sonstelie, 2010; Zwerling & Thomason, 1995). Yet Strunk (2011)
defined union strength more rigorously, instead using a measure of restrictiveness of a
district’s contract, and found that districts with strong unions have higher spending

68

overall but that the increase is due in part to greater expenditures on administrator salaries
and instructional services, not teacher salaries. This challenges conventional wisdom that
a strong teachers’ union can control a district’s financial resources, and prompts further
questions into whether and how union “strength” affects the outcomes of negotiations.
Work that examines if transfer and assignment rules favor union interests raises
similar uncertainties about the impact of teachers’ unions on bargaining outcomes. Much
of the existing research is descriptive, finding that although staffing rules often favor
seniority, they also grant significant administrator discretion over transfers and
reassignments (Ballou, 2000; Cohen-Vogel & Osborne-Lampkin, 2007; Hess & Kelly,
2006; Koski & Horng, 2007; P. Riley, et al., 2002). While both board members and
principals reported that existing bargaining agreements are a barrier to removing
ineffective teachers and prevent them from assigning teachers as needed (Hess & Meeks,
2011; Levin, Mulhern, & Schunk, 2005), recent work suggested union strength and
district demographics affect how much the contract restricts administrator actions (Moe,
2009; P. Riley, et al., 2002; Strunk, 2012). State laws rather than union strength also play
a significant role in determining the content of contracts (McDonnell & Pascal, 1979).
Studies on class size and other working conditions are inconclusive as well.
Unionization led to smaller class sizes (Eberts & Stone, 1984; Hoxby, 1996; Kleiner &
Petree, 1988; Perry, 1979), a reduction in non-teaching duties (Johnson, 1984), more paid
preparation time (Eberts & Stone, 1984), and greater teacher control over the school
calendar (McDonnell & Pascal, 1979; Perry & Wildman, 1970). However, the
relationship between union strength and working conditions is unclear. It may again be

69

that demographics interact with union strength when determining how strength is related
to bargained provisions for teacher working conditions (Moe, 2009; Strunk, 2012).
While these studies look at the outcomes of bargaining, other researchers have
asked how those outcomes actually affect district practices. Only six percent of 1,400
superintendents nationwide reported that their district’s collective bargaining agreement
inhibited their effectiveness (Glass & Franceschini, 2007), down from 13% who agreed
just a few years earlier (Glass, et al., 2000). Superintendents and administrators have also
found ways to work around union contracts by pursing actions that are not strictly
prohibited, developing strong working relationships with union leaders so that they may
mutually work around contract language, and negotiating for clauses that give them
discretion to make decisions that are in the “best interests” of schools and students (Hess,
2010; Koski & Horng, 2007). This suggests that a district with a strong contract does not
necessarily have a union that is comparatively more powerful than its administrators, but
as yet there is no empirical evidence to support this hypothesis.
Remaining Questions
Conventional wisdom presumes that unions are strong because they have
substantial material and social resources which they use in a number of highly visible
ways, enabling them to influence school board elections, negotiate favorable contracts,
and exert pressure on administrators. But findings from the empirical literature have
challenged this basic assumption. The effects of union strength on negotiated outcomes
are mixed. District leaders may actually be more responsive to internal influence than
external actions, or put community and parent demands over those of employee unions.

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There are several possible explanations for the lack of clarity and agreement
among the extant literature: powerful superintendents might balance the influence of a
strong union, board members may appease union interests whether the union is strong or
not, or strong unions are using other, less visible strategies besides electoral politics and
lobbying. Strong unions may not even be active at all: resource-rich unions could choose
not to use power strategies because they are already satisfied or because they fear
repercussions from the central office or community. It is also possible that contextual
variables confound, or even override, the strategies of even the strongest union, or that
unions in large urban districts are only perceived as strong because they are more visible,
but do not actually have significantly commanding power resources. However, these are
only hypotheses.
The research does agree that the relationships among boards, superintendents, and
teachers’ unions are complicated, and that each uses a variety of power resources and
strategies to ensure that decisions protect their interests. Board members have substantial
material and positional resources and the legitimate authority to use them;
superintendents capitalize on trustworthiness and information to expand their power
relative to the board; unions use both micropolitical and interest group strategies to
leverage their material, social, and informational resources. But what, exactly, a “strong”
union does, and how the institutional context, community and organizational structure,
public opinion, and personal traits of leaders affect the balance of power in a district, is
still unresolved.

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Thus far, researchers have utilized three tactics to study how unions affect
decision-making. First, they used econometric methods to examine the processes of
electoral politics (Hess & Leal, 2005; Moe, 2005, 2006b; Strunk & Grissom, 2010) and
the outcomes of negotiations (Berkman & Plutzer, 2005; Hess & Kelly, 2006; Moe, 2009;
P. Riley, et al., 2002; Strunk, 2011, 2012; Strunk & Grissom, 2010). But these studies
cannot link the process to the outcome. Candidates endorsed by the union may win their
elections more frequently (Moe, 2005, 2006b), but endorsements may not ultimately lead
to a union-friendly contract (Strunk & Grissom, 2010), and board members tend to be
less sympathetic toward union interests the longer they stay in office (Moe, 2005).
Districts in which board members report that the teachers’ union is strong are more likely
to have contracts that restrict administrator actions (Strunk & Grissom, 2010), but may
not pay their teachers more (Strunk, 2011, 2012) or consistently offer other “union-
friendly” contract provisions (Strunk & Zeehandelaar, 2011).
The second method researchers have used to examine union effects on decision-
making are large-scale surveys of boards and superintendents (Glass, et al., 2000; Hess,
2002; Hess & Meeks, 2011; Kowalski, et al., 2011). While these surveys take a broad
descriptive approach and examine multiple uses of power, they also do not connect
board, superintendent, and union resources and strategies with decision-making
outcomes. The question of whether and how specific union power strategies are
successful in affecting board policies, administrator actions, and contracts cannot be
addressed by these descriptive studies. The effects of environmental context also cannot
be explained using the survey method.

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The econometric work on unions tends to look at one power resource at a time
and provides evidence for associations, but not necessary causal inferences. The literature
on boards and superintendents remains largely disconnected from the work on unions.
Some researchers have therefore used a third method to study district-union interactions:
case studies that examine power resources, strategies, and outcomes among all district
actors. These works take an integrated approach to studying the educational reform
process, and the union’s role in that process, in a single district or state (e.g. Boyd, et al.,
2000; Bryk & Schneider, 2002; Bryk, Sebring, Allensworth, Luppescu, & Easton, 2010;
Fuller, Mitchell, & Hartmann, 2000; Johnson, 1984; Kerchner & Koppich, 1993;
Kerchner, Menefee-Libey, Mulfinger, & Clayton, 2008; D. R. McAdams, 2000; O'Day,
Bitter, & Gomez, 2011; Reville & Coggins, 2007; Shipps, 2006; C. N. Stone, 1998; C. N.
Stone, et al., 2001). While informative, these case studies tend to be descriptive rather
than analytic, look at the implementation of a single district reform rather than the
outcomes of decision-making, and are not meant to be generalized across districts or to
expand an existing political theory.
Given the extant literature, there is room for work that combines the holistic
methods of the case study with the theory-driven approach of quantitative research in
order to better explain how boards, superintendents, and unions influence decision-
making outcomes. We know that each has resources, but we aren’t sure which ones. We
know that each leverages those resources in an attempt to affect board policies,
administrator actions, and union contracts, but we don’t have a complete picture of which
strategies each uses, whether or not those strategies work, and why. We know that district

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leaders and unions are strong – each has said as much of the other – but we do not know
what “strong” actually means. We do not know how contextual variables confound, or
even override, the strategies of even the strongest actor. This dissertation starts to address
those gaps.

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CHAPTER 3
Research Design and Methods

As I argued at the end of Chapter 2, the interactions among board members,
superintendents and administrators, and union leaders are complicated and contextually-
bound. Existing research is descriptive but not explanatory, explanatory but not
generalizable, or inferential without claiming causality. A holistic, theory-driven case
study addresses some of the gaps in understanding the processes and outcomes of district
decision-making.
In this chapter, I first introduce my research questions. Second, I address research
design: I describe a case study and argue that it is the best approach to examine questions
that are inseparable from their context and where participants’ interpretations of events
are important. I explain the purpose (description and explanation), motivation (to learn
more about general phenomena rather than a specific case), and design (comparative
multisite) of my study. I also briefly outline how others have used case studies to build
theory about politics in school districts. Next, I detail my research methods, including
sample selection and procedures for data collection and analysis, and I address criteria for
rigor: validity, reliability, and objectivity/confirmability. Finally, I introduce my sample
districts.
Research Questions
The review of the empirical literature reveals questions and contradictions in the
ways in which school boards, superintendents, and teachers’ unions use power. The
understanding of what defines a “powerful” board, superintendent, or teachers’ union,
what resources they have, how they leverage those resources, and why they are

75

successful, is limited. Where possible, that understanding is based on a small number of
limited-scope empirical studies, but so far the findings are inconclusive. Assumption and
anecdote have been used to fill in many of the remaining blanks. The overall message is
that researchers, district leaders, and the public are not defining “powerful” in the same
way.
This dissertation addresses some of the open questions around how boards,
superintendents, and unions influence the outcomes of decision-making to protect their
interests. Specifically, I ask:
1. What power resources are available to school board members, superintendents
and district administrators, and teachers’ union leaders?
2. When actors use power strategies to leverage their resources, what types of
strategies do they use, where are those strategies located, what is the goal of each
strategy, and which dimensions of power do those strategies represent?
3. How do environmental factors affect the resources to which actors have access,
the strategies that actors choose, and whether or not actors successfully leverage
their resources so that outcomes of decision-making reflect their interests?
To answer these questions, I used an instrumental, comparative case study.
Research Design
In response to funding cuts, McKinley Unified School District, along with
countless other government organizations nationwide, negotiated furlough days into their
employee union contracts. During negotiations, the teachers’ union encouraged their
members to attend a school board meeting en masse. Union leaders wanted to

76

demonstrate that their membership was solidly in favor of the union’s position, and to put
a human face in front of the board and superintendent. The union president told me there
were 140 teachers there, the superintendent said 100, and two assistant superintendents
said there were around 50. An article in the McKinley Press reported there were 110. I
counted 130. In my field notes, I wrote that turnout was impressive and that, for the first
time, board members acknowledged that the furlough dispute wasn’t just about the
district’s bottom line. Two union leaders said they were very pleased with their
demonstration of strength and solidarity, especially because they gave the teachers only a
few days’ notice. A school board member told me that the action was all for show. And
the superintendent and deputy superintendent reported that they saw it as
counterproductive, a militant but ineffective minority blindly following the directives of
union leaders while the majority of the rank-and-file teachers actually supported the
district.
Power and influence are inherently subjective, and this situation was one of many
when actors did not agree with one another. It was also one of many in which my direct
observations did not align with what was reported to me in interviews. Researchers use
case studies to resolve the challenge of understanding subjective processes and
attempting to measure difficult-to-quantify variables by conducting observations in their
natural setting, preserving the holistic and contextual characteristics of events, focusing
on participants’ perspectives and constructions of events during interviews, using
multiple data sources for triangulation, and analyzing data recursively and inductively
(Creswell, 2007; Denzin & Lincoln, 1998; Marshall & Rossman, 2011; Strauss & Corbin,

77

1990). The case study design acknowledges that a particular event like the collective
action of teachers’ unions at a school board meeting can inspire varied perspectives and
interpretations and lead to ambiguities in understanding concepts like power. The case
study also offers a way to resolve those ambiguities, by using a social anthropology
approach: look for patterns using observations in context; combine observations,
interviews and other data sources; use theory as a guide for data collection and analysis;
and validate conclusions with participants. Through this process, the researcher seeks
patterns in the way people use language, in the rituals of interaction, or in relationships
(Van Maanen, 1979). These are the “inferential keys” to the case under study (Miles &
Huberman, 1994). Unique events can give valuable data, even if they only happen once
(Stake, 1995). The case study captures both regularities and singular events, in context,
and from multiple perspectives.
To answer my research questions, therefore, I used a case study with three key
considerations: purpose, motivation, and design. The purpose was both descriptive and
explanatory, the motivation was instrumental, and the design was multisite and
comparative. In the following section I explain each of these choices, then briefly review
how others have used similar case studies to explore school district governance.
Purpose, Motivation, and Design
My purpose in this work was to both describe and explain the use of power
resources and strategies within a school district. My first two research questions are
descriptive; I ask what types of power resources school board members, superintendents,
and union leaders have, and what strategies they use to leverage those resources. My final

78

question is exploratory: I explore how environmental factors affect actors’ access to
resources, choice of strategy, and success in influencing decisions. Both portions used
theoretical models and propositions to guide data collection and analysis (Scholz &
Tietje, 2002; Stenhouse, 1978; Trochim, 1989; Yin, 2008). The reference model was
presented in Chapter 2 as Figure 2.1: the legitimate political system, consisting of the
superintendent and administrators, the school board members, and in certain
circumstances the teachers’ union, translates the demands and supports of external actors
into policy outcomes. The guiding proposition supposes that school board members,
superintendents, and teachers’ union leaders act politically as well as rationally.
Because my motivation is to describe and explain political decision-making in
school districts in general, I used an instrumental case study approach. An instrumental
case study begins with questions that could apply to any case (in this instance, school
districts) and then gathers evidence from particular cases to answer those questions
(Creswell, 2007; Scholz & Tietje, 2002; Stake, 1995). Unlike an intrinsic case study,
where the particular case itself is of primary interest, an instrumental case study
establishes new, or modifies existing, general rules that pertain to similar activities
observed in similar situations.
Finally, I designed a comparative, or collective, rather than a single site, study. I
asked the same research questions and used similar data collection and analysis
procedures in two different districts (George & Bennett, 2004; Herriott & Firestone,
1983; Stake, 1995; Yin, 2009). The systematic application of rigorously designed
procedures across multiple cases generates more supporting evidence for inferences than

79

does a single case, without sacrificing a high level of contextual detail (Eisenhardt, 1989;
Stake, 1995). In a multisite instrumental case study, the research questions become the
focus of inquiry rather than the specific case itself – the researcher asks the same
questions in different contexts and makes comparisons among the results (Bogdan &
Biklen, 1992).
The research design of this work is comparative because it draws explicit
comparisons within and between the two cases. However, it is important to note that
while my theoretical framework spans three research traditions – comparative politics,
political psychology, and organizational behavior/politics – my research method does not
match the methodology of comparative case study as defined by these fields.
14
In political
science, “comparative case study” refers to a specific research method, not a general
multi-case research design (Yin, 2009). Comparative studies in political science are a
small-sample alternative to experimental studies, intended to establish empirical
relationships among a few well-defined variables while keeping all other variables
constant between cases (Gerring & McDermott, 2007; Lijphart, 1971). The goal of
comparative politics is to identify and explain the differences and similarities in the
outcomes of political systems by systematically comparing different governance
structures (Kaarbo & Beasley, 1999; Mair, 1996; Przeworski & Teune, 1970).
Researchers using this type of study focus on the outcomes of different political systems,
most often nations, and use statistical analyses to make causal inferences about how
differences in governance structure might account for observed variation in outcomes

14
I discuss my methodology in much greater detail later in this chapter.

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(Dion, 2003; Mair, 1996; Rogowski, 1993). Scholars then apply the findings from the
cases to predict the outcomes of other systems (Stenhouse, 1978). Political science
comparative case studies are most often intrinsic, asking about specific nations or
political systems (Ragin, 1987) rather than general phenomena such as political behavior.
The use of case study design in political psychology and organizational behavior
is rare (Kaarbo & Beasley, 1999; Lee, 1999). Research in political psychology tends to
use experimental or other quantitative methods to study political identity, voting
behavior, terrorism, leadership qualities, and patriotism, or uses a single individual as a
case (see, for example, Bekkers, 2005; Brewer, 2001; Caprara et al., 2006; McGraw,
2000; Post, 1991). Likewise, researchers in organizational behavior and politics generally
employ quantitative methods to study worker and firm productivity, organizational
culture, management practices, job satisfaction, and human resources (Conner, 2006;
Ferris, 1999; Hodgkinson, Herriot, & Anderson, 2001; Kacmar & Baron, 1999;
Podsakoff et al., 2003; Saal & Knight, 1988; Witt, Andrews, & Kacmar, 2000). The scant
studies that examine politics within the public sector also employ quantitative, statistical
methods (Hochwarter et al., 2006; Vigoda, 1999, 2000).
Despite the proliferance of quantitative methods in political psychology and
organizational behavior, however, researchers are realizing that there are questions that
are better suited to qualitative inquiry (Johns, 2006; Lee, 1999). Scholars in both fields
have called for an extension of the comparative research methods frequently seen in
social science to address those questions (George & Bennett, 2004; Hodgkinson, Herriot,
& Anderson, 2001; Kaarbo & Beasley, 1999). George and Bennett (2004) have gone as

81

far as to suggest a specific comparative research method – the structured, focused
comparison – in which the researcher answers specific, theoretically-driven questions
with standardized data-collection procedures and protocols and then develops theory
through within-case analysis and controlled comparison. This method is similar to the
constant comparative method used elsewhere in social science, wherein the researcher
aggregates data from several cases and inductively looks for patterns within and between
cases (Eisenhardt, 1989; Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Lee, 1999; Yin, 2009). However, the
purpose of the structured, focused comparative method is to generate theory using a
multi-site case study design; it is not to test existing theory and/or apply existing theory
to new situations as I did in this study. I therefore classified my design as comparative
but did not strictly use the comparative methods of political science, political psychology,
or organizational behavior. Rather, I used a variety of social science comparative
methods: inductive procedures of direct interpretation, categorical aggregation, and cross-
case analysis (Stake, 1995; Yin, 2009), and deductive methods of pattern-matching and
explanation-building (Yin, 2009). I discuss these methods in greater detail later in this
chapter.
Explanatory, Instrumental Case Studies in School Districts
Social and political scientists turned to explanatory case studies to examine local
governance and urban power structures after deductive, statistical methods failed to
predict the actions of political systems during World War II.
15
Early studies sought to

15
In this brief review on how case studies have been used to explore school district governance and
stakeholder interactions, I use the term “case study” for works intended to build, refute, or refine theory. I
therefore omit purely descriptive works such as accounts of district reform efforts or district-union

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observe and measure the theoretical concepts of authority, legitimacy, and power in
actual communities. Beginning with the work of the Community Studies Project at the
University of Oregon in 1952, the 1950s and early 1960s were marked by a number of
prominent theory-generating single-case studies of cities and communities (see, for
example, Belknap & Smuckler, 1956; Dahl, 1959, 2006; Haer, 1956; Meyerson &
Banfield, 1955; Schulze, 1958; Schulze & Blumberg, 1957).
Researchers turned to case studies of power in public education in the mid-1960s
after statistical-experimental studies did not substantially improve governance practices
(Stenhouse, 1978; Wirt & Kirst, 1972). Much of their work used variations of democratic
theory to explain the interactions between the public and the district. Researchers like
Kimbrough (1964), Gittell (1967, 1968), Pois (1964), Rogers (1969) , and Sayre and
Kaufman (1960) used case studies to theorize about the interaction between school
districts and external actors, including organized interests, civil rights groups, community
and parent organizations, and local elites. Opfer’s (2005) more recent work extended the
use of democratic theory to explain the actions of district leaders and interests as they
debated over science curriculum. Researchers have also used democratic theory to relate
voting behavior to school board and superintendent actions (Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970;
Lutz, 1962).
Other scholars focused not on democratic or systems theory but on organizational
and participatory theories. Kerr (1964) used organizational theory to frame how
community structures affect the board-superintendent relationship, and Peshkin (1978)

relationships (for example, Stone (1998) on urban education politics and Kerchner and Koppich (1993) on
reform unions). However, I include the most rigorous of these works in my literature review in Chapter 2.

83

built theory around the community-district relationship in a rural district. Salisbury
(1980) used case studies to examine parent and community participation in schools, while
Tracy et al. (2003, 2007, forthcoming) developed theory on public participation and intra-
board debate at school board meetings.
Researchers have also used case studies driven by organizational learning theory
to explain the internal politics of a school district. These works examine the activities of
the central office (Burch & Spillane, 2004; J Hannaway, 1989; Honig, 2003, 2004) and
the interactions between a central office and its schools and teachers (Finnigan & O'Day,
2003; Gallucci, 2008; Honig, 2006). Finally, scholars have employed case studies
extensively at the school, rather than district, level, to explore the micropolitics among
principals, teachers, parents, and students; Malen and Cochran (2008) provide a
comprehensive review.
While the researchers who have studied school- and district-level politics have
taken a variety of theoretical approaches, the common thread among them is that they
acknowledge actors behave both rationally and politically. They are driven by
organizational goals and group interests and make decisions based on the evaluation of
consequences and persuasion by others (Estler, 1988). Like these researchers, I also
acknowledge that school district and union leaders are simultaneously rational members
of bureaucratic organizations and participants in political institutions, constrained by a
district’s history and context, and planned my research methods to capture this
complexity.

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Research Methodology: Sample Selection, Data Collection, and Sources
There are a number of practical considerations to a multisite case study. Here, I
will address the selection of cases and the recruitment of participants, the methods of data
collection, and the data analysis process.
Selecting Cases and Recruiting Participants
Although the purpose of an instrumental case study is to answer questions about
phenomena that occur in a variety of districts, the theory that is built from these case
studies is not intended to describe or explain every use of power resources and strategies
by every school board, superintendent, and teachers’ union in every district. Such a task
would require knowledge and measurement of every variable that might affect how these
stakeholders interact. Rather, the purpose of an instrumental case study is to build robust
hypotheses that describe or explain the use of power resources and strategies in the case
study districts and districts that are similar to them (Yin, 2008). The researcher is tasked
with defining the universe of cases to which the hypotheses can be applied (Robinson,
1951).
Therefore, when selecting school districts for this study, it was neither appropriate
nor possible to use random sampling. Since my results can’t be generalized to the entire
population of school districts, it made no sense to choose cases that represented the whole
population. And, given the diversity of districts and large number of variables that might
contribute to variations in political decision-making, choosing a representative sample
simply wasn’t possible (Platt, 1992; Yin, 2008). Rather, I chose cases using theoretical

85

sampling: districts became cases because they were theoretically useful (Eisenhardt,
1989; George & Bennett, 2004; Platt, 1992).
Sample districts: McKinley and Rainer Unified. Theoretical sampling logic
dictated that, to select case studies that would yield the best data, I needed to identify the
characteristics predicted by theory or determined by research that would be good
indicators that board members, superintendents, and teachers unions are likely to act
politically (Yin, 2008). I also looked for variables that predicted districts would have a
variety of potential power resources and strategies available to those actors. As such, I
sought:
Districts with large numbers of students (10,000-20,000+) and teachers
Teachers’ unions play a potentially large role in local politics because they have
resources to leverage; these resources grow as the number of union members
increases. Unions in larger districts have more money to spend on elections, more
members to help with campaigns, and more potential voters to mobilize (Hess &
Leal, 2005; Masters & Delaney, 2005).
While teachers’ unions are active during elections in large districts, so are other
unions, community organizations, business groups, ethnic groups, religious
organizations, and parent groups (Hess, 1999; Hess & Leal, 2005; Kowalski, et
al., 2011), and board members in districts with diverse, competing interests are
more likely to act politically (Greene, 1992; Prewitt, 1970; U.S. Chamber of
Commerce, 2012). Elections in larger districts are more competitive than elections
in smaller ones (Hess & Leal, 2005),

86

School boards, unions, parents, community interest groups, business elites, and
the media are more likely to engage in overt political action, and successfully
influence the superintendent, in large districts than in smaller ones (Kowalski, et
al., 2011).
Board members in large districts more often represent distinct factions than do
board members in smaller districts (Glass, et al., 2000).
Not only are communities more politically active in large districts, but
superintendents are also more likely to actively seek community participation than
in smaller districts (Glass, et al., 2000; Kowalski, et al., 2011).
The lead responsibility for making policy decisions is shared among board
members, the superintendent, and central office staff more frequently in large
districts than small ones (Glass, et al., 2000). This shared responsibility can lead
to confusion over role definition, which in turn creates political conflict (U.S.
Chamber of Commerce, 2012).
Community pressure, internal board conflict, and disputes over board-
superintendent role definition are more likely to occur in large districts than in
smaller ones (Glass, et al., 2000; Grissom, 2010).
Voters in large districts are more likely to form their opinions about district
leaders based on the media, public relations cues, or the ideology of a larger group
with which they identify, whereas voters in smaller districts can rely on firsthand
knowledge of the system (Carmines & Stimson, 1989; Hess, 1999).

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Urban districts
Urban areas have a high degree of active interests (Hess & Leal, 2005) and boards
do not reach consensus as easily as they do in suburban or rural districts (Zeigler,
et al., 1974).
Urban districts have more competitive elections than do rural or suburban districts
(Hess & Leal, 2005).
Urban districts tend to have more heterogeneous populations; in turn, the voters
have diverse values with differing expectations about education (Danzberger,
1992, 1994).
Urban districts are faced with a number of challenging issues, such as increasing
diversity and declining socioeconomic status (Hess, 1999; Petersen & Fusarelli,
2008), which creates more conflict among district leaders (Grissom, 2010) and
between district leaders and the community (Danzberger, 1992, 1994).
Superintendent (Buchanan, 2006) and board member (Danzberger, 1992; Hess,
1999) turnover is higher in urban districts than anywhere else, which can increase
political activity as leaders seek to keep their positions. Board members in urban
districts are also more likely to run for higher office (Hess, 1999).
Collective bargaining agreements tend to favor teachers’ unions in urban districts;
this could serve as a proxy for union strength (P. Riley, et al., 2002).
Districts with at-large elections
Board members who are elected, rather than appointed, tend to be more politically
motivated (Maeroff, 2010).

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At-large elections are more competitive than elections in districts where board
members are selected by ward (Hess & Leal, 2005).
Districts in the same county and state, which are affiliated with state organizations
When they create their budgets, districts use recommendations from their county
office of education, which in turn bases its funding projections on state-level
analyses (California Assembly Bill 1200, 1991; personal communications with
McKinley and Rainier CFOs).
Laws, policies, and initiatives at the state level have a large effect on local
decision-making (Bjork, 2005); examples include labor laws, education budgets,
and reserve requirements.
Local unions and school boards can have affiliations with larger organizations,
which in turn provide them with additional material, knowledge, and social
resources (Antonucci, 2010).
Given the criteria of large urban districts in the same state with at-large elections
and affiliations to larger organizations, I compiled a list of 15 districts that were relatively
close to one another. I read news articles and watched archived school board meetings,
and eliminated the districts I felt would not contribute substantive data.
Before I made a final selection, I had to decide how many cases to include. A key
strength of the case study is it allows for multiple data sources and data collection
techniques. This is especially important in an explanatory case study, since robust
conclusions require internal validity.
16
One way to increase validity is through data

16
I address validity and other trustworthiness considerations later in this chapter.

89

triangulation, which necessitates multiple accounts of the same phenomenon (Denzin,
1984). Decision-making involves a large number of actors in a diverse range of
situations. Given time and resource constraints – I conducted all of the interviews and
observations myself, and I needed a significant amount of time to build enough trust to be
allowed access to internal meetings and observe enough so that I could ask meaningful
questions during interviews – I decided that I would not be able to gather data with
sufficient depth in more than two districts at the same time. While I could have included
more districts and focused on each one sequentially rather than concurrently, I realized
that this would pose a threat to validity: I could not aggregate data from districts if I was
observing each under different conditions, and important external factors, especially state
budget projections and funding allocations, change every few months.
17

Based on these criteria, I selected McKinley and Rainier Unified School
Districts.
18
Each district has more than 25,000 students and 1,200 teachers, is located in
the same large metropolitan area, and has at-large elections. I describe each district and
its decision-making processes in depth in Chapter 4, and explore the demographic factors
that affect decision-making strategies and outcomes in Chapter 5.
Study participants and access. After I selected McKinley and Rainier as the
instrumental cases and attended a number of their public school board meetings, I

17
I had initially proposed to include three districts as cases and conducted 35 hours of observations in a
third district. However, I realized this was compromising the quality of data I was collecting from the other
two districts. Of the original three, I dropped the district which had the fewest opportunities for direct
observations, because they did not grant me full permission to attend internal meetings and because many
joint meetings occurred infrequently and not within the window of data collection.

18
Districts will be referred to by these pseudonyms from this point forward.

90

outlined my project to the school board president, the superintendent, and the president of
the teachers’ union in each district. I formally requested their participation, and asked if I
could contact other members of the school board and district and union staff for
interviews. The two recruitment letters, one asking leaders for general permission to
observe in the district and the second asking each board member, administrator, and
union leader for an interview, are included in Appendix A. I gave most participants the
letters in person, although some were delivered via email. During interviews, I asked
each respondent about district and union meetings, and requested permission to observe
those as well.
A note on anonymity. I assured all participants that all discussions would be kept
confidential, that I would use a pseudonym for each district (and that I would obscure
identifying details), and that I would refer to individuals by their job titles only. However,
because of the sensitive and potentially damaging nature of some of the information I
learned during interviews, I took additional steps to maintain the anonymity of both the
districts and the informants. In this dissertation, I refer to all board members and
administrators as male and union leaders as female. I assigned these genders because the
majority of the union leaders were female, and most administrators were male. One board
was majority male, and the other female, but overall there were more male than female
members and I therefore assigned the male pronoun to school board members. I feel
confident in concealing informants’ gender because I did not observe, nor did they report,
that gender was an important determinant of actor behavior.

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To further protect informants’ identities, if it is not salient then I do not attribute
quotes to a specific person – for example, sometimes quotes from the superintendent are
simply credited to “an administrator” or statements from the union president to “a union
leader” if their position is not germane to the point they are making. When an informant
accused another of improper or dishonest behavior, if I did not observe the behavior
myself I note the accusation as speculative only. Finally, not only did the districts receive
pseudonyms but all programs and committees did as well, and identifying details and
dates have been omitted or changed.
Data Collection and Instrumentation
Any qualitative study of political activity inevitably involves contested
descriptions; participants and researchers will likely have divergent accounts of the same
event. Triangulation – using multiple data sources – helps substantiate contested or
dubious descriptions, confirm critical data, and clarify a researcher’s interpretations
(Denzin, 1984; Mathison, 1988; Stake, 1995). To increase the opportunities for
triangulation, I combined interviews, observations, and documents. Table 3.1 lists the
data sources used in this work and the timeframe during which each was collected.
Interview protocols and observation guides are included in Appendix B.

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McKinley Rainier
Observations
(April 2011-
January 2012)
School board meetings 13 School board meetings 11
District cabinet meetings 2 District cabinet meetings 2
Union meetings 5 Union meetings 1
District-stakeholder meetings
a
1 District-union meetings
a
1
Furlough day site visits
b
4 Standing committee meetings
c
3
Community meetings/events 1 Community meetings/events 2
Interviews
(October 2011-
January 2012)
School board members 4 School board members 4
Superintendent and cabinet 6 Superintendent and cabinet 6
Union leaders 5 Union leaders 4
Documents
- Board meeting agendas, minutes, and video archives
- Administrator reports, budgets, and board policies
- Union meeting agendas, minutes, and other information distributed to
participants
- Collective bargaining agreements
- Newspaper articles and accompanying online comments, op-eds,
letters to the editor, and paid advertisements
- School board election materials
TABLE 3.1. Data sources.
a
In McKinley, the superintendent and executive leadership team met regularly with a group that consisted of
representatives from all three employee unions, the PTA president, and other central office staff. In Rainier, the
superintendent and executive leadership team met regularly with the president and executive director of the teacher’s
union alone.
b
During the time I observed in McKinley, the superintendent, Chief Financial Officer, and Assistant Superintendent for
Human Resources conducted meetings at school sites. They gave information to and answered questions from the
teachers about the ongoing furlough day negotiations. The teachers’ union president and other members of the
teachers’ union executive board were present at some, but not all, of these meetings.
c
In Rainier, I observed meetings of the Rainier Financial Oversight Committee (RFOC) and the Health and Welfare
Benefits Committee; McKinley also has a standing benefits committee but they meet once per year rather than once
per month, and did not convene during my observation period of that district

Observations. Observations of decision-making during school board meetings,
union executive board meetings, district cabinet meetings, and a variety of other locations
provided crucial data for this study. I conducted detailed observations at a number of
different meetings over a period of ten months, for a total of approximately 200 hours.
The school board meetings gave extremely rich data on the interactions among
superintendents, board members, and teachers’ union leaders. Occurring every two
weeks, these were the only times during which the board, the superintendent, the
executive leadership team, the teachers’ union leaders, and the public could

93

simultaneously interact. With only a few exceptions when union leaders did not attend a
particular meeting, I was able to observe every major district decision-maker at the same
time. The meetings were also easily accessible. By law, they are open to the public, must
have posted agendas, and may be recorded. In addition, the board is prohibited from
meeting in private except in regard to confidential personnel issues, pending litigation,
and negotiations with labor unions.
I began attending school board meetings in April of 2011 and continued my
observations through January 2012. Depending on the district and the week’s agenda,
meetings ranged between two and seven hours each. During these meetings, I recorded a
variety of data. I noted what was being said and by whom, audio-recording some and
otherwise taking notes as close to verbatim as possible. This “operational data” (Van
Maanen, 1979) consisted of a running description of the reports, discussions, and debates.
I also documented non-verbal actions or “presentational data” (Van Maanen, 1979); for
example, I noted if a board member left the room during a report, if the superintendent
rolled his eyes or checked his phone, if administrators were paying rapt attention or
taking notes as board members spoke, or if two people held a side conversation.
Observing the ways in which people talked and acted in their natural setting
served several important purposes (Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 1995). First, I could see
decision-making processes as they occurred, rather than relying solely on the
recollections of the participants. Second, I used observations to support or counter what
subjects said during interviews. Finally, I recorded power strategies that the participants
themselves may not have been aware of. An important caveat is that presentational data is

94

inherently more subjective than operational data (Van Maanen, 1979). While my notes on
someone looking bored, acting defensive, or speaking sarcastically were based on
observable qualities like body position or tone of voice, the interpretations of those
qualities were mine.
When I began observing school board meetings, I had not yet finalized my sample
selection, nor had I informed any district stakeholders that I was observing them. During
this time, my research was at a preliminary stage: the literature review was in an early
form and my research questions were quite general. The early observations served a
number of important purposes. First, they allowed me to refine my research questions,
interview protocols, and observation guides. Social processes are highly complex; while I
began my observations with a loose conceptual framework, I used early board meetings
to understand how my constructs of power resources and strategies might actually be
studied. I was then able to develop more specific research questions and create protocols
and observation guides that could answer those specific questions (Miles & Huberman,
1994; Stake, 1995).
Second, as I observed the school board meetings I began to gather general issues
and particular interactions that I would later integrate into my interview protocols. Rather
than asking an informant to describe any contentious issue, I could prompt them with a
specific one. Subjects tended to be more talkative when asked these specific questions
because they knew unambiguously what information I was seeking (Rubin & Rubin,
2005). At the same time, the interviewees were also more open because they felt like I
had sufficiently ‘done my homework’ and wasn’t simply fishing for answers.

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Third, I could eliminate a potential source of response bias because initially, the
meeting participants did not know that I was observing their behavior. I could compare
these meetings to my observations after the participants knew I was watching them and
look for changes in behavior.
19

Between September 2011 and January 2012, I also observed, with permission, a
number of other meetings in which district staff and teachers’ union leaders interacted. I
was invited to internal meetings by both the district and the union. I attended district
cabinet meetings, during which the superintendent and assistant superintendents (and
occasionally other district administrators as necessary) discussed operations, budget, and
school board meeting agenda items. Cabinet meetings occurred weekly or biweekly;
according to both superintendents and most of the executive staff, these sessions are
where the bulk of major issues are discussed and decisions are made. Each lasted
between two and five hours. I was also able to observe internal meetings of the teachers’
unions in both districts. In McKinley, I was invited to union executive board meetings,
strategy sessions, and the regular meeting between the union executive board members
and the school site representatives. Rainier’s teachers’ union chose to limit my
observations to the meeting between the union board and the site representatives. And
while I was not permitted by law to observe any closed school board sessions, I asked
board members about closed board meetings during our interviews.

19
I also checked for response bias after the official end of data collection. In January 2012, I told district
leaders that my observations were complete. But I actually observed one board meeting in each district
after this date, again to see if participants altered their behavior when I was in the audience because they
knew I was watching for board-superintendent-union interactions. In McKinley, I was able to watch the
school board meeting over the Internet, and in Rainier I asked an uninvolved party to record the public
meeting on my behalf. In both districts, there were no marked differences in behavior of actors before,
during, and after the formal observation period.

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I was also able to gather data during a number of interactions, both formal and
informal, between district administrators and union leaders. In Rainier, the superintendent
and executive staff meet monthly with the teachers’ union president and executive
director, and in McKinley the district leaders meet with the presidents of the teachers’
union, classified union, administrators’ association, and PTA. In addition, each district
has standing committee meetings, usually defined in the collective bargaining agreement,
during which district administrators and union members interact and make decisions on a
variety of issues such as budget, health and welfare benefits, and curriculum. I observed
meetings of the Financial Oversight and the Health and Welfare Benefits committees in
Rainier. My time in McKinley did not coincide with any committee meetings, but I asked
multiple participants to describe what took place.
Further, in McKinley the superintendent, Chief Financial Officer, and Assistant
Superintendent for Human Resources held meetings at school sites about the current
furlough day negotiations. The district administrators gave information to and answered
questions from the teachers directly. The teachers’ union president and other members of
the teachers’ union executive board were present at some but not all of these meetings.
Finally, in each district I observed a handful of community meetings or events, during
which board members and administrators interacted with the public.
Interviews. While my observations allowed me to record decision-making as it
happened, I also used interviews to ask board members, superintendents, and union
representatives about decision-making processes. Between September 2011 and January
2012, I formally interviewed 29 subjects; five were interviewed twice, for a total of 34

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interviews. Interviews were approximately 70 minutes in length, although several were
substantially longer. I conducted all interviews in person, and each was recorded and
transcribed. I also spoke informally with a number of informants, including executive
assistants, past superintendents, teachers, PTA leaders, and local reporters.
I conducted the formal interviews only after I had observed each district’s school
board meetings for at least five months; this gave me time to use observational data to
shape interview protocols. Each interview followed a similar structure. I began by asking
biographical questions, and then requested that each participant describe his or her own
job and responsibilities. I next asked each to describe his or her interactions with other
stakeholders, focusing on whether and how each tried to influence one another and
whether and why they were successful. These questions often focused on specific
processes such as negotiations, school board elections, and contentious issues like
furlough days, although I encouraged the subjects to provide their own examples as well.
Sometimes I asked about past events for which I was not present, such as collective
bargaining, while other questions asked for clarification or interpretation of events that I
did observe. The final portion of the interview was about interests and power: I asked the
participants about their own interests and the personal and organizational interests of
others, and which people and/or organizations they believed to be the most influential and
why.
Interviews were moderately-structured. I designed the initial questions and a
follow-up strategy of prompts, probes, and topics, but deviated from the pre-determined
protocols as the respondent offered more or less information on certain topics, or if the

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session was more narrative than question-and-answer (Wengraf, 2001). I also did not
assume that the subject and I shared meanings; I asked all the subjects to define concepts
like “power.” If they described an action as “political” or a relationship as “positive,” I
asked what those words meant. By encouraging my informants to reflect on their
responses, I acknowledged that they were constructing knowledge about their interactions
with others during the interview itself (Holstein & Gubrium, 2003). I wanted to better
understand how what the interviewee was saying related to the interactions he or she was
experiencing. Finally, I did not assume the subjectivity of my interviewees (Hollway &
Jefferson, 2000), nor did I assume, despite assurances of confidentiality, that they were
always telling the truth as they saw it (Atkinson & Coffey, 2003; Van Maanen, 1979).
While all of the interviews were similar in structure, the protocols for each
informant varied from one to the next. I focused some questions on areas in which that
subject might have particular knowledge. For example, an assistant superintendent for
human resources has firsthand knowledge of contract negotiations, while a school board
member does not. That same board member has more direct information on the teachers’
union involvement in school board elections than the superintendent for human resources.
I also asked ‘outsiders’ to comment on events they observed but in which they did not
participate directly, finding that they were frequently more willing to share an opinion
when they felt they were an impartial observer with little to lose by being candid
(Rosenblatt, 2003; Van Maanen, 1979).
In addition, protocols varied from person to person because I frequently asked
subjects about events which I had observed during my fieldwork. Sometimes I simply

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sought clarification or background, but I also asked interviewees to confirm or refute my
own inferences about the events (Stenhouse, 1978). Many of these events simply hadn’t
occurred yet during early interviews, which led to variation in the interview questions
over time.
Document review. Documents were the final source of data for my analyses. I
gathered the agendas, minutes, meeting materials, and archives from every meeting that I
attended, to look for which issues were addressed and how information was presented.

From the district, I collected reports, budgets, and collective bargaining agreements. I
collected similar materials from the teachers’ union, as well as their newsletters,
informational fliers from the union to its site representatives, and internal memos. I asked
for the materials they produced during the most recent school board elections, and I
joined their Facebook pages to receive the updates they gave to their members. I also
accumulated news reports and articles, letters to the editor, press releases, and paid
advertisements. These documents served two useful purposes: as additional supporting
evidence around the processes I was observing or inquiring, and as unique data points
themselves.
The primary use of the documents was to add to the body of evidence around a
particular issue. For example, fiscal solvency was a high priority of the board members
and administrators in both districts. During interviews, board members said that they
relied on the executive staff to inform them about the district’s revenues and
expenditures, and to determine the feasibility of funding a particular initiative. Before
they could make decisions, board members needed to know how much money the district

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had in reserve and how long that money would last; it was the responsibility of the Chief
Financial Officer to relay this information to the board. In both McKinley and Rainier, I
asked the Chief Financial Officer about the decisions they made when preparing their
presentations to the board, I asked the board members how they received the information
from the Chief Financial Officer, I observed the board meetings during which the reports
were presented, and I analyzed the budget report documents. This amassed evidence
created a detailed picture of this single issue, and helped corroborate or contradict the
statements of others on that same issue. In one district, union leaders reported to me that
the Chief Financial Officer presented the budget report in a certain way in order to
persuade the board members that money should not be spent on teacher salaries. To
assess this claim, I compared the report on district finances from the financial officer to
the board with the report on district finances from the teachers’ union to its members to
better understand the ways in which each was presenting information in order to gain
support for their goals.
The documents served a second important purpose: they were valuable data for
events that I simply could not observe (Stake, 1995). For example, two seats on the
school board and a district bond measure were on the ballot in McKinley in early April
2011, before I began observations. I combined the election materials – flyers,
advertisements, and commercials – created by the candidates and the teachers’ union with
newspaper articles, news reports, and letters to the editor. I also watched archived school
board meetings. Even though I was not observing in McKinley during the campaign, I
was able to generate data on the electoral politics surrounding the election using these

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documents. Just like the data gathered from events that I observed in person, I used these
results to guide interviews and substantiate statements made by the participants.
Data Analysis
My general approach to data analysis was to combine analytic induction (Bogdan
& Biklen, 1992; Katz, 1982; Robinson, 1951), also called explanation-building (Yin,
2008), with pattern-matching (Trochim, 1989). Based on my detailed field notes and my
pre-transcription interview notes, I developed early working hypotheses and preliminary
answers to my research questions. These hypotheses were founded on theory and early
observations. In the former case, I drew general principles from theory and then used
pattern-matching to compare my data to those principles. In the latter, I used analytic
induction to look for themes and patterns in the data independent of any existing
framework. I held the working hypotheses up to the data as I continued to collect it. I
recursively modified my hypotheses as I encountered (or in some instances actively
sought) data that did not support them, until ultimately I was able to develop convincing
answers to my research questions.
There were three main elements to my ongoing hypothesis testing. During data
collection, I used ongoing triangulation and reflexivity to modify my interview protocols
and observation guides (Atkinson & Coffey, 2003; Denzin, 1984). At the end of each day
I reviewed my notes from the day’s interviews and observations, then adjusted the
instruments for the next day accordingly. This informal process of “following the data”
allowed me to follow leads, test assumptions, and refine ideas (Charmaz, 1995). It also
helped me compare what I thought was happening to what my informants told me was

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happening, and to think carefully about why one account might vary from another (Van
Maanen, 1979). When data points matched each other, I was more convinced that the
data were accurate. When they did not, I theorized why a person might have given me
that particular interpretation (and what they might not be able to tell me) (H. S. Becker,
1958; Rosenblatt, 2003). I did not assign more weight to my direct observations than the
reports of my informants, or vice versa. I did not treat events that I observed directly as
what ‘really happened,’ nor did I use interviews as a proxy for direct observation
(Atkinson & Coffey, 2003). I acknowledge that, as I wrote down my observations, I
constructed them by choosing to give prominence to certain activities and not recording
others, and by using the descriptive words that I did. My notes were a representation of
reality as I saw it, not a record of some objective reality that existed apart from my
observations (Atkinson, 1990; M Hammersley, 1992). I used interviews to support or
refute my representations; for example, I might ask a union leader, “It appeared to me
that during the meeting you seemed to trust the superintendent’s intentions; would you
agree with that?”
Second, I used a number of formal inductive methods during and after data
collection to create working hypotheses. My goal was to break down my data into
discrete parts, examine these chunks to establish preliminary themes and hypotheses, and
develop rough answers to my research questions (Bogdan & Biklen, 1992; Miles &
Huberman, 1994; Strauss & Corbin, 1990). I used open coding to conceptualize
observation notes and interviews line-by-line, inductively looking for patterns and
connections (Charmaz, 1995; Emerson, et al., 1995; Glaser & Strauss, 1967; Strauss &

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Corbin, 1990). I also made a list of codes drawn from the literature on macro- and
micropolitical theory, and used pattern coding to compare these codes to my data (Miles
& Huberman, 1994; Walton, 1992; Yin, 2008). Atlas.ti, a computer-assisted qualitative
data analysis software program, facilitated coding. To visualize decision-making, I built
and added to event listings, created and re-created checklist and effects matrices, and
modified my diagrams that conceptualized the institutional environment for each case
(Miles & Huberman, 1994). The final version of the conceptual model for decision-
making in school districts appears as Figure 2.1.
During data collection, I also used initial memos to expand on specific events, and
integrative memos to clarify and link events and themes together (Emerson, et al., 1995).
As I went, I continued to recursively modify my hypotheses, gather more data, and
compare the data to my hypotheses until I had reached theoretical saturation.
Third, after data collection was complete I used focused coding to build and
clarify definitions (such as types of power resources, or which strategies represented
which dimension of power), examine how one category was different from another, and
establish causal timelines (Charmaz, 1995; Emerson, et al., 1995). The list of codes is
located in Appendix C.
Validity, Dependability, and Confirmability
Validity (whether the measurement instruments are accurate), dependability
(whether the instruments and conclusions are credible and logical) and confirmability
(whether the research procedures and researcher are trustworthy and transparent) are
critical to producing rigorous research (M. M. Cooper, 1997; Martyn Hammersley, 1987;

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Miles & Huberman, 1994; Slavin, 2007). In this section I will describe how I addressed
these criteria for rigor.
20

Internal validity in explanatory qualitative research is the degree to which a study
is able to convincingly rule out alternative explanations for the relationships observed
among variables (D. T. Campbell, 1957; Slavin, 2007). Although an instrumental case
study begins with a priori propositions, I also considered rival explanations for my
observations, including the explanation that my observations themselves were inaccurate
(Yin, 2008). By constantly comparing my working hypotheses to both data and theory, I
increased my sensitivity to alternative explanations (Strauss & Corbin, 1990). In one
fairly major instance, an alternative explanation proved more fitting than my original
theoretical construct. When I first began my study, I had briefly encountered literature on
the importance of community structure and public opinion and their effects on district
decision-making. But I chose not to integrate these factors into my original theoretical
framework because the bulk of recent work pinpointed institutional context and
organizational structure as significantly more important, or it did not include community
structure and public opinion at all. However, I soon realized that the existing community
structure was crucial to understanding why unions in McKinley and Rainier chose certain
power strategies, and why those strategies did or didn’t work. I returned to the literature
and integrated community structure and public opinion into my proposed determinants of
strategy selection and success.

20
In this work I approach validity, reliability, and objectivity from the postpositivist paradigm (M. M.
Cooper, 1997; Guba, 1981; Guba & Lincoln, 1994). There is a “reality” but it is never perfectly knowable.
“Facts” are constructed by people but can be close representations of true reality. If findings are replicated
then they are likely true. Hypotheses can be supported or falsified but not proven. Individuals, including the
researcher, are unpredictable and subject to bias.

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In addition, I increased internal validity by using a multi- rather than single-site
case study. I could better ensure that my inferences were valid and the relationships
among variables that I observed were genuine because I had more, and more diverse, data
from which to draw my conclusions (Herriott & Firestone, 1983; Miles & Huberman,
1994; Slavin, 2007).
The definition of external validity as the ability to generalize findings to an entire
population is not a particularly useful standard for a case study, given the uniqueness of
the institutions and their contexts (Firestone, 1993; Lincoln & Guba, 1985). The findings
from an instrumental case study should be generalized to theory, rather than to the
population. That theory should only be subsequently applied to other cases within a
limited universe defined by the researcher. I have no evidence to suggest that my findings
are applicable to small districts, rural districts, districts in states other than California, or
any number of other conditions. I also do not presume that all of the independent
variables that affect how boards, superintendents, and unions interact are measurable, or
even that the entire set of independent variables can be identified. This is analytic (as
opposed to statistical or predictive) generalization (Abbott, 1992; H. S. Becker, 1990).
Construct validity – that what was intended to be measured is what was actually
measured – is generally applied to qualitative research as precision (Golafshani, 2003).
For qualitative work, precision is an important consideration because scholars of
sociopolitical theory have specific definitions for concepts like “power” or “authority.”
Respondents do not necessarily define those concepts in the same way that I, or theorists,
do (Cronbach & Meehl, 1955; Gubrium & Holstein, 2003). For my work to be precise,

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every hypothesis and conclusion needed to pass two tests: it had to hold up against
multiple data sources, and informants had to confirm that I did not misrepresent how they
constructed an event or defined a concept (D. T. Campbell, 1960). To address the former,
I used triangulation. To address the latter, if I wasn’t sure how someone interpreted an
event or defined a concept, I asked him or her to clarify either during or after the
interview. I also performed member checks during and after data analysis – I presented
participants with some portion of my findings and asked them their opinion.
Research is dependable when the work is consistent across all the cases and when
other researchers find the instruments and conclusions credible (Guba, 1981; Slavin,
2007). If a dependable study is repeated in other districts, the inevitable variation in
findings should be attributable to changes in context, in the subjects, and in the researcher
(Guba, 1981) and not to poor design and analysis. For this study to be dependable,
another researcher should agree to the logic of my research design, link the design and
methods to my research questions, follow the chain of evidence from questions to data to
conclusions, and be able to use the same procedures to reach similar findings (Miles &
Huberman, 1994; Yin, 2008). To increase dependability, I carefully followed interview
protocols and data analysis guides, performed member checks, and consulted outsiders –
academics, and practitioners in other districts (Lincoln & Guba, 1985; Yin, 2008). I also
documented my methods; by keeping them transparent, another researcher could
substantiate my findings (Lincoln & Guba, 1985; Rodgers & Cowles, 1993).
Finally, confirmability is a measure of the neutrality of the research procedures
and findings. While producing objective data is impossible, the subjectivity of data can

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be controlled (Stenhouse, 1978). Confirmable observations and conclusions depend on
the “subjects and conditions of the inquiry,” not on the researcher (Lincoln & Guba,
1985; Miles & Huberman, 1994). I acknowledge that I chose the way I applied theory,
made hypotheses, designed instruments, gathered data, drew conclusions, and presented
my findings, and I acknowledge that these choices were all shaped by my existing
knowledge, predispositions, and biases (Stenhouse, 1978). Even the research questions
themselves were not chosen objectively (Lincoln & Guba, 1985) – I believed they
examined an important part of education policy that was yet unexplored by existing
literature, including my own previous quantitative work. I increased confirmability
through data triangulation, member checks, consultation with experts, and transparency.
This allowed other people to verify, or challenge, my findings (Miles & Huberman,
1994). To further increase the confirmability of my work, I thought very carefully about
my own history; I was a teacher who valued reform in a large urban district with an
oppositional, industrial-style union and a dominating superintendent. With this history
came tacit assumptions about political behavior in school districts. Because I recognized
rather than ignored my biases, I was able to critically evaluate my own work and
hopefully limit the effects that my bias had on the integrity of the research.

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CHAPTER 4
Describing Power Resources and Strategies

My first two research questions are descriptive: what resources are available to
district actors, and what strategies (by type, location, goal, and dimension) do actors use
to leverage those resources? I address those questions here, drawing conclusions from my
interviews, observations, and document review. First, I give an overview of the political
climate in each district. Next, I detail four examples of the processes and outcomes of
political decision-making, two each from Rainier and McKinley. I then answer Research
Questions 1 and 2, drawing on the examples for evidence of the resources and strategies
available to district actors. In Chapter 5, I summarize the environmental factors in each
district and argue how those factors affect access to resources, strategy choice, and
decision-making outcomes, again using the four examples for supporting evidence.
Overview of Decision-Making in McKinley and Rainier Unified
McKinley and Rainier Unified School Districts shared a number of common
characteristics. Both districts were large (each serving between 25,000 and 35,000
students across grades K-12), located in the same urban metropolitan area in Southern
California. Many of their challenges were similar: raise and maintain student
achievement under state and federal accountability requirements; contend with severe and
unpredictable cuts in state revenue; meet the dual obligations of achievement and fiscal
stability while responding to the demands of parent, community, and employee groups;
and protect the image of public education in an environment where its legitimacy is
increasingly threatened.

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In other respects, these two districts were radically different. The relationship
between the school board, superintendent and executive administrators, and teachers’
union in McKinley was strained at best and openly acrimonious at worst. Decision-
making was governed by a superintendent that was well-liked by the community and
trusted by the board. The United Teachers of McKinley (UTM) felt that district leaders
did not value teachers, while the school board and administrators saw a rancorous union
that was purposefully oppositional, unwilling to compromise, and with leaders who did
not represent the majority of the teachers. Yet despite this discord McKinley Unified had
many successes: it kept high monetary reserves in uncertain financial times, posted test
scores that are well above the state average, avoided layoffs, maintained funding for arts,
language, and early education programs, and passed a multi-million dollar bond measure.
The board-administrator-union interactions in Rainier Unified were completely
unlike those in McKinley. Union and district leaders, employees, and the state teachers’
association all touted the positive working relationship between the district and the
Rainier Teachers’ Association (RTA). There was a sense of camaraderie, mutual respect,
and shared responsibility among district leaders. It too had marked some major successes.
While Rainier’s students tested below the state average, the districts’ scores have grown
not just in aggregate but also for its English Language Learner, socioeconomically
disadvantaged, and special education students. Rainier was hiring teachers when most
districts were laying them off, largely due to a jointly-negotiated and wildly-popular early
retirement buy-out plan. The teachers’ union felt involved in district decision-making,
and administrators and union leaders actively sought its participation and advice.

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However, this seemingly placid district had a significant amount of internal friction.
Some actors characterized the school board members as micromanagers, driven by
community ties, political aspirations, or ego. Administrators saw the board as a hindrance
to effectively running the district. The teachers’ union was an incredibly powerful
behind-the-scenes player in local politics. And in the eyes of some, the camaraderie
among leaders bordered on insularism.
Examples of Decision-Making: Resources, Strategies, and Power
In the ten months that I observed in McKinley and Rainier, I saw the legitimate
political system make hundreds of decisions, translating external demands and internal
preferences into policy outcomes (Figure 2.1). Over the course of 24 school board
meetings, the board members passed more than 750 action items and policies, and
formally discussed 120 others. The vast majority of board action items were approved as
part of the meeting’s consent calendar with little public debate. A large portion of every
school board meeting was allocated not to board member discussions or administrator
reports but to recognitions, awards, and public comment. The discussions and reports that
did occur focused on a few recurring issues: in McKinley, the budget, spending/oversight
of their recent facilities bond measure, and the district’s strategic plan; in Rainier, the
opening of a new technology high school, updates on student achievement and
attendance, and parent concerns over a teacher accused of bullying. I also witnessed
countless actions by administrators, mostly dealing with important but ordinary
operational decisions. These decisions were made without much discussion, and few
outside the central office were even aware of them.

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There were a few high-activity, high-impact decisions that involved extensive
deliberation, required the participation and consent of multiple individuals and groups,
and ultimately had a significant impact on students, teachers, district leaders, and the
public. These are particularly illustrative of political decision-making: in McKinley, the
selection of a school reform model called Achievement Plus (A+),
21
and the negotiation
and eventual ratification of a contract reopener on furlough days; in Rainier, the renewed
status of the Rainier Financial Oversight Committee (RFOC) and the search for a new
superintendent.
I chose these examples for McKinley because the decision-making processes in
both cases were particularly emblematic of the use of power resources and strategies in
that district. Like many of the processes I observed there, these two decisions had a high
degree of district-union conflict. In both examples, district leaders reported they were
acting in the best interests of students, but did not trust the union to do the same. They
leveraged their positional and knowledge resources, and there was little information
sharing or voluntary inclusion. The union, in turn, reacted defensively to the perceived
power asymmetry and accused the district of manipulation or even impropriety. I
witnessed this process firsthand during the furlough day negotiations, and district and
union leaders alike repeatedly mentioned A+ as an example of the district-union conflict
that frequently accompanied decision-making.

21
According to the participants, the selection process for Achievement Plus mirrored the way the district
chose its current elementary math curriculum. Because of the repeated congruence reported between these
two processes, I combined the two examples and report them together as Achievement Plus.

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From the range of examples that demonstrated similar decision-making processes,
I selected these two illustrations because similar processes resulted in different outcomes.
The union believed that A+, like many of the decision-making outcomes in McKinley,
reflected only the preferences of the board and superintendent. Atypically, union and
district leaders maintained that the furlough day agreement was a negotiated compromise
that served the interests of both.
22,23

I selected the two Rainier examples because they were also illustrative of
decision-making in that district, but for different reasons. In those two examples, the
decision-making outcomes were similar to each other, and were representative of every
other decision outcome I observed or was reported to me, in that they reflected the goals
of the district and union leaders as well as the teachers’ union’s interests.
24
However, the
outcomes were the result of two contrasting processes. The RFOC reinstatement was
similar to the majority of the district-union interactions that I observed. Union leaders
used micropolitical action to quietly leverage their systemic knowledge, trusted
connections to board members and administrators, and history of information-sharing. To
successfully influence board members and convince them to begin a search for a new

22
Here and elsewhere in this chapter, I present outcomes as they were constructed by the participants.
However, their construction of each decision, and whose interests that decision protects, may differ from
my own interpretation. I note where this is the case (see Footnotes 2 and 3).
23
The description of the furlough day agreement as “negotiated compromise” is from the participants
themselves. Since both sides described the outcome as compromise, I do as well, but with reservations. The
final agreement was very close to the union’s original proposal. Some stipulations of the agreement
combined the intermediate proposals of both sides, while some were concessions (mostly by the district).

24
In Rainier Unified, district and union leaders maintained that they had a shared goal: provide students
with a high-quality education. By the informants’ construction, decision-making outcomes reflected the
goals of both the district and the union. However, I observed that actors had different preferences for how
those goals should be achieved, and those preferences often did not agree. When that was the case,
decision-making outcomes most often represented the union’s preferred method to achieve the shared goal.
As such, I characterize typical outcomes as reflecting both shared goals and union interests.

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superintendent, however, the Rainier Teachers’ association acted macropolitically. Based
on my observations and confirmed by the participants, this was unusual behavior, utilized
when their micropolitical attempts to sway the board members did not work.
Below, I present these examples. I will refer to the examples in general, and
actors’ use of specific resources and strategies within them, when I answer my three
research questions.
Decision-Making in McKinley Unified: Achievement Plus
For over a decade, McKinley Unified’s white and Asian students performed very
well on standardized tests, but its Hispanic, English Language Learner, special education,
and socioeconomically disadvantaged students lagged behind. Low test scores in these
subgroups placed many district schools in Program Improvement status under No Child
Left Behind, even though the schools’ overall scores ranked them above the state average.
Five years ago, McKinley Unified administrators proposed, and board members
approved, a district-wide comprehensive school reform model called Achievement Plus
(A+) to address the achievement gap.
Union leaders and McKinley school board members and administrators had
dissimilar interpretations of the decision-making process that led to the selection of A+.21F
25

Union leaders saw it as one instance of many in which McKinley administrators used
their positional resources – the authority to invite participants or make unilateral
decisions, and the high degree of discretion granted to them by the board to implement

25
Achievement Plus was adopted several years before I began data collection in McKinley Unified.
Therefore, I do not have observations to corroborate interview data. However, I performed member checks
with the informants quoted here, all of whom were involved in the selection and implementation process,
and with other district administrators and teachers.

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the board’s strategic plan – to exclude the union. The union president at the time was
inexperienced; she related that when she met with the former superintendent,
immediately after A+ was selected, “I said, ‘You can’t do this, this is a change in our
working conditions. We need to bargain this.’ I was new. I didn’t know what I was doing
too well yet. I didn’t know the routines to stop [the program], so it was just pushed on
us.”
UTM leaders believed McKinley administrators were strategic in their decision to
inform the union only after A+ was already approved. “Things are constantly being
foisted on us, like Achievement Plus. That’s just how it works,” said the UTM president.
“I have no idea these things are happening until I get calls from teachers.” Another union
leader agreed: “There are examples after examples of the district imposing its will upon
the union and the teachers on significant issues that matter to us.” According to UTM
leaders, the school board used closed sessions to shield the decision-making process from
union input. One cited A+ as one example of “[the board and administrators] deciding in
closed session. That is where all the arguments take place, and the big debates and stuff.”
Union leaders reasoned that when district leaders used direct authority rather than
collaborative decision-making, they were motivated by three factors other than their
professional interest to close achievement gap. First, UTM leaders believed that the board
used closed decision-making in order to protect themselves against public vulnerability
and maintain their organizational legitimacy. “We did a survey of our members about
A+, and 90% of them thought it was a waste of money. I presented that to the school
board and they didn’t like that, of course,” said a UTM leader. Another union leader

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agreed: “They want to look infallible. [It keeps] their standing, their position with the
community, and it keeps the community’s faith in them.” Second, union leaders offered
that the former superintendent’s professional interests motivated UTM exclusion. “He
didn’t want to look as if someone else was calling the shots or in control,” said a union
leader, “and so if he were to…say to us, ‘Let’s see what we can do about A+, let’s create
something that works for everyone,’ it would look weak in his eyes. It would look like
the union has some influence or power.”
Finally, one union leader offered that district leaders excluded the union voice
because they had a highly personal interest in the outcome of decision-making: “You
can’t prove these things, but [I’ve heard from multiple sources] that there is some sort of
kickback going on with Achievement Plus.”
According to McKinley leaders, UTM resisted A+ not because they were
excluded from its selection but because it threatened teacher autonomy and gave
administrators control over instructional practices that did not first require collective
bargaining. “A+ forced an enormous change where classrooms were no longer the private
domains of teachers,” explained a McKinley school board member. Another board
member agreed, saying, “It doesn’t matter to the union whether it works. It’s just an
expectation of resistance.”
District leaders also denied that the union was excluded. “I know that there have
been all sorts of allegations about Achievement Plus, that there was no union
representation, but there was!” said an assistant superintendent. However, they admitted
that teacher recommendations in McKinley were non-binding. They also agreed that there

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were no standard protocols for involving the teachers’ union in decisions in which their
participation is not mandated.
With Achievement Plus, McKinley school leaders successfully protected their
professional and personal interests by using micropolitical strategies to leverage
resources and limit union involvement. There were many similarities between the
decision-making process through which A+ was adopted and the way that the district and
union negotiated their current furlough day agreement. Both involved actors using
strategies of conflict and exclusion to leverage positional and knowledge resources.
However, there were two important distinctions. First, union involvement was not
required during the selection of A+, while furlough days must be negotiated between
McKinley and UTM. This gave the teachers’ union more positional resources, and more
opportunities to leverage its existing social resources through collective lobbying and
image politics. Second, the outcome of the furlough day negotiations reflected the
preferences of the union, although not necessarily because of any actions by UTM.
Decision-Making in McKinley Unified: Furlough Days
In 2010, McKinley Unified and the United Teachers of McKinley negotiated a
three-year contract. Teachers would take two furlough days in the 2010-2011 school year,
three in 2011-2012, and four in 2012-13. Last year, the district eliminated the days
scheduled for 2010-2011 because it received unexpected federal funds. Per contract
stipulations, the three days for the 2011-2012 school year were reopened to negotiation in
early summer of 2011. The McKinley union asked that the district rescind all three days.
The district proposed pushing the furlough days to the 2013-14 school year. If the district

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and union did not come to an accord, the 2010-2013 contract would remain in effect and
the teachers would take all three days.
McKinley leaders and the teachers’ union fought bitterly and publically for six
months before they reached an agreement. Union leaders maintained that the district
manipulated information, hid its mistakes, and divided the union president from rank-
and-file teachers and community members in order to avoid spending its reserves on
teachers. The union attempted to influence decision-making through collective action, but
district leaders did not take their efforts seriously.
Much of the district-union conflict took place at school board meetings – not
necessarily by choice of any of the involved actors, but because the union had few other
opportunities to address district leaders directly. At a board meeting in September of
2011, the UTM president used public comment to argue that the district could easily
afford to buy back the furlough days but was misreporting its reserves. She spoke
quickly, rushing to fit her statement within the five minutes allotted to each speaker.
Later in the meeting, McKinley’s Chief Financial Officer (CFO) gave a report on the
district’s interim budget. He pointed out errors in the union president’s calculations, and
then concluded with, “Yes, we have reserves. But we need them, we’re using them, and
they’re running out.” Board members expressed pride that McKinley had substantial
savings in a time of economic uncertainty, and thanked the CFO for his expertise. The
superintendent concluded the report by avowing that his goal was to ultimately eliminate
the furlough days, but “we’re going through a roller coaster at the state level, and we’re
trying to deal with that here in the district.”

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School board meetings over the next several months became locations for heated
micropolitical activity. Each followed a similar pattern. The union president used public
comment to address the board and the public, accusing McKinley of misrepresenting its
financial need and petitioning the district to eliminate the furlough days. Then a cabinet
member, usually the CFO, used knowledge of district finances and decision-making
processes to present convincing evidence for the district’s position: he would give a
report, stress the need for financial conservatism, and present specific recommendations
to the board. The board members supported the recommendations and implored the
teachers and union leaders to cooperate with the district. One or two board members
regularly disparaged the leadership capacity of the union president. Once, a board
member asked her how many teachers voted for her, knowing turnout had been low and
implying that union members did not support their president. At another meeting, a board
member thanked the CFO for his report by saying, “I appreciate the presentation because
it helps educate a person with a little bit of common sense as to what’s going on. I know
that’s been challenging for some people…”
By late November, negotiations were at a complete impasse. The union exercised
the protections offered to them by state labor law and stated that the district’s proposal to
push the furlough days to 2013-14 was illegal. They refused to offer a counterproposal.
District leaders, unwilling to negotiate against themselves, would not proceed until the
union made an offer.
During their December executive leadership meeting, UTM leaders brainstormed
possible macropolitical collective actions given that board meeting public comment had

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failed to change the district’s position. One suggested an email protest, while another
recommended a postcard campaign. The former UTM president disagreed; she worried
that they were overestimating the number of teachers who would participate, and a low
number would make UTM look weak. She argued that UTM should leverage the negative
publicity McKinley Unified was already receiving: “If they want to keep $100 million in
the bank and take away the instructional days for the kids, that will already play poorly
with the community.” Leaders discussed newspaper ads aimed at parents, community
members, and teachers that would blame the district, not UTM, for lost student
instructional minutes. One recommended a press conference on the first furlough day,
with teachers standing in front of an empty classroom holding signs reading “Ready To
Work.” The UTM leadership eventually decided to organize the teachers to assemble en
masse at the next school board meeting, and use the media campaign if necessary.
Four days later, approximately 100 UTM members wearing dark red shirts sat in
the audience of McKinley’s board room. “I’m here today with a few of my friends, to
clarify points that may be confusing people,” said the UTM president during public
comment, to enthusiastic teacher applause. “The facts don’t fit with the district
claims…The United Teachers of McKinley have proven time and time again that we are
willing to make concessions. The last thing we want is for this district to go broke! We
just want the district to be fair to students and employees. Respect the parents, students,
and teachers; the district can more than afford to do so.” The school board members
avoided eye contact with her while she spoke. They sighed and gestured when the
assembled teachers left immediately after the UTM comments. Later, a board member

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described his thoughts on the assembly: “Everything is a battle with them and it’s to the
point where it’s like, ‘Ooh, it’s them again.’ I don’t take their arguments very seriously.”
During the same period – late November and early December – the United
Teachers of McKinley were not the only district actors using political strategies to affect
negotiations. The superintendent, CFO, and assistant superintendent for human resources
held informal question-and-answer sessions at every McKinley school to connect with
the rank-and-file teachers, whom they believed did not align with UTM leaders. They
used their access to teachers, and their control of information and calendars – they did not
give UTM leadership the meeting schedule – to limit UTM’s ability to leverage the social
resource of its own membership.
These meetings were well-attended by site employees. During most of the
meetings, the superintendent, often with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, made
direct appeals to the teachers. “Look, my main job as superintendent is fiscal solvency,”
he told them at one meeting. “That’s the easiest way to get fired, not maintain solvency.
After that, academically we have to continue to grow. I know that in order for students to
achieve, I need the teachers. Philosophically, I want you to be happy. I don’t lay in bed at
night thinking, ‘How can I piss them off this week?’” The teachers appeared pleased with
the accessibility of their superintendent. Many expressed confusion as to why the two
sides could not come to an agreement when it seemed like neither actually wanted to take
the furlough days; the superintendent, careful to differentiate UTM leaders from rank-
and-file teachers, responded that everyone seemed to want to move discussions forward

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but couldn’t because union leaders still offered no counterproposal. Most of these
information meetings were civil, if not amicable.
Some sessions, however, dissolved into sparring matches between the
superintendent and the UTM president. Despite multiple requests, the UTM president
was not given the master meeting schedule, and McKinley leaders made it clear that she
was not welcome. However, on occasion, she was invited to a few sessions by a site
teacher. At these meetings, the superintendent emphasized that, while he did not want to
make the conflict personal, because the meetings were organized by McKinley Unified
and not the union she would not be allowed to speak until all teacher questions had been
answered. To the frustration of the teachers, she frequently interrupted him. The
superintendent was usually able to maintain his composure while the union president
became more agitated and emotional. These meetings ended in bickering.
To the immense surprise of the public and many of the teachers, in January of
2012 McKinley Unified and UTM abruptly reached an agreement. The teachers would
take no furlough days that year. McKinley Unified’s original offer was to push all three
days to 2013-2014; the final agreement pushed one day to 2012-13. Following UTM’s
proposal, two of the three scheduled days were rescinded completely. McKinley leaders
attributed the outcome to two factors. First, the superintendent wanted the conflict to end
because it was worsening the community’s already negative opinion of American public
education and therefore undermining district leaders. “Public education is being
villainized,” said the McKinley superintendent to a group of teachers at a furlough day

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information session. “And the community just sees us fighting. It doesn’t help me as a
district, it doesn’t help you as teachers.”
Second, McKinley Unified received a substantial rebate from its health care
provider, enough that it could eliminate two furlough days instead of pushing them
forward. But had there not been an agreement, McKinley leaders would have used
macropolitical action just like UTM was threatening: “If they weren’t going to give us a
proposal, we were going to do a press release on what we were going to do. We wanted
to get that out to the public that we were in a position to offer no furlough days for 2011-
12.”
Decision-Making in Rainier Unified: The Rainier Financial Oversight Committee
Decision-making in McKinley Unified was antagonistic and exclusionary. Actors
had few opportunities to share resources, and little desire to do so. While they used both
micro- and macropolitical strategies, these actions were overt and public. In contrast,
Rainier Unified had a variety of structures and norms that allowed for resource sharing
and, if necessary, quiet resolutions to conflict using internal political action. One example
is the renewed strength of a joint district-union committee.
In 1995, Rainier was on the verge of bankruptcy, employees faced massive
layoffs and pay cuts, and the unions threatened to strike. To avoid similar problems in the
future, district and union leaders proposed the Rainier Financial Oversight Committee
(RFOC) to “collaboratively monitor the budget rather than pulling it out for negotiations
once a year…It would be our contractual responsibility to see how we could work
together to keep the district afloat,” related the union president. The RFOC became an

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institutionalized conduit for sharing information and building trust. “We keep our unions
very well appraised about what we’re doing financially,” said Rainier’s Chief Financial
Officer, “and it’s...how we get [the unions] to accept when we have to make cuts. If they
don’t trust us, why should they accept furlough days?” The RFOC chairperson, also an
RTA leader, agreed, saying that the teachers understand that “there really is less money.
There really is declining enrollment. There really are problems. It’s negotiations back and
forth and we have some ideas about how to meet [the district’s] needs.”
Over the past year, however, union leaders expressed that the district’s
responsiveness to RFOC requests had waned. Rainier’s finance office, responsible for
setting committee meeting agendas, was no longer providing the agendas in advance.
RFOC leaders had to ask Rainier cabinet members for the same information that used to
be freely provided. In the past, the Rainier CFO, along with several other cabinet
members, regularly attended meetings; lately their attendance was sporadic. And while
the RFOC was required to give twice-yearly reports and recommendations during school
board meetings, it had been over a year since the committee’s last report.
When the RFOC met in early November, most of meeting was spent on purely
informational issues. Lower-level Rainier administrators reported on facilities and
construction projects, but did not ask the committee for its advice. Only one Rainier
cabinet member attended. Midway through the RFOC meeting, committee members
voiced concerns to one another. “At this point the committee is more like a formality to
please the associations,” said the RFOC chairperson, “and last year we saw our requests
not met.” The RTA president agreed: “Our commitment is to watch taxpayer money, but

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we’ve lost mojo, we’ve lost luster. I want to see more power brokers here. I want to be on
the school board agenda, and I want people to report to us.”
As they spoke, the lone Rainier Unified cabinet member took notes. It was his
first time attending an RFOC meeting, and as the meeting progressed he became more
and more involved in the discussion. At the end of the session, he assured the committee
that he would bring their requests back to the district and confirm that the RFOC report to
the board would be on the agenda of the next school board meeting. The next day, he
contacted the RFOC chair and told her that the changes were already in progress. A few
days later, the superintendent discreetly approached the RFOC chair and the RTA
executive director; he confirmed that administrators were addressing the problem and
told them to inform him if the situation did not immediately improve.
At the board meeting two weeks later, the RFOC was included on the agenda.
Before she presented the committee’s report, the RFOC chairperson addressed the board
members and administrators. Calmly but firmly, she stated, “We want to make sure that
the purpose of the RFOC continues and the transparency continues. We voiced our
concerns because of the lack of attention that the committee has gotten in the last year.
…There isn’t anything in the bylaws that says what we have to cover. It was just a norm
that was set, and now we’ve fallen back from that.” She then reported on, among other
topics, the RFOC’s recommendations on how Rainier should react to new state
categorical funding definitions and the committee’s work to reduce energy and facilities
costs. The school board members nodded and asked her questions.

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When she concluded, four of the five board members praised the work of the
committee and recognized the important role it plays in guiding Rainier’s financial
decisions. The remaining board member bluntly asked who in the district office was not
providing the RFOC with timely and complete information. He admonished the finance
department for not doing its job. The RFOC chairperson declined to blame a specific
person but instead tactfully cited central office staff turnover as the cause of the delays.
A month later, the RFOC met again. This time, seven central office employees
were present: three members of the executive cabinet plus four finance office
administrators. Well in advance, the committee received the meeting agenda and detailed
reports from Rainier staff on a variety of high-impact issues. Cabinet members asked for
the committee’s advice on complying with a complicated state statute on student fees. In
the several months following, Rainier administrators implemented many of the RFOC’s
suggestions, including consolidating an elementary school, filling teacher vacancies left
by the early retirement plan, restructuring health benefits, and reallocating funds in
reaction to the student fee law.
This was a subtle but very important example of the union’s use of micropolitical
action to protect its interests – in this case, to re-strengthen the RFOC. The RFOC chair
approached district leaders directly. She did not assign blame in public. She reminded
leaders of the norms of transparency and joint oversight. The RTA did not use collective
action, did not mobilize its general membership, and did not threaten the district or its
leaders. “The union knows how to exercise their power eloquently,” said a school board
member. “They know when to show it. They are sophisticated.”

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Decision-Making in Rainier Unified: Superintendent Search
The Rainier Teachers’ Association usually used micropolitics successfully, so
Rainier’s superintendent search is an important outlier case because, in that instance, the
RTA engaged in electoral politics. In 2010, Rainier’s superintendent retired. Rather than
conduct an open search, the school board appointed Rainier’s Assistant Superintendent
for Pupil Services as interim superintendent. Board members cited multiple benefits of
the decision. The interim superintendent still performed the duties of the pupil services
position, and Rainier saved $180,000 by not filling the vacancy. In addition, the interim
had nearly 40 years of experience in Rainier, beginning as a classroom teacher. He had
deep knowledge of district operations and was well-liked and respected by the other
cabinet members, Rainier’s employees and parents, and union leaders.
In August of 2011, the school board voted to make the promotion permanent.
Although RTA leaders had not protested the initial appointment, they now voiced serious
objections. First, they maintained that the appointment was not in the best interests of
students and teachers. “We need a true educational leader,” said the RTA president,
“someone who actually understands curriculum.” Second, RTA leaders saw the decision
as a way for the board to purposefully exclude the union. By law, boards have the direct
authority to hire the superintendent. But only a few months prior, union leaders had
successfully lobbied for stakeholder participation in hiring central office executive
directors. They were upset that board members did not apply that precedent to the
superintendent search. “There was never an interview process,” said a union leader. “He
was just appointed. And that did not go over well with a lot of people.” Another RTA

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leader expanded that the invitation to the hiring process was as important as the process
itself: “We want to be involved in the decision-making process, as much as we’re going
to have a say. Even if it’s superficial, or not really, the fact that we’re there at the
interviews is important.”
Third, some union leaders believed the board wanted to retain a superintendent
whom they knew they could dominate. The appointment “was never meant to be
permanent,” explained an RTA leader, “so from my perspective, he hasn’t had the power
to influence policy or influence even hiring and firing. The board believes they have
more power by having a less powerful superintendent.” A board member countered that
he was motivated not by domination but by ease of transition in a district with many
entrenched traditions: “I am personally not looking forward in my tenure to training a
newbie.”
In light of these objections, union leaders insisted that the school board
immediately open a search for a new superintendent and hire him or her as soon as
possible. RTA first expressed their demands through a letter to the board, but board
members were not receptive. Union leaders then met with board members individually,
but again the board members did not open the search.
The Rainier union then turned to electoral politics. School board elections in
Rainier were contested but not competitive. Incumbents rarely faced genuine challenges
from viable candidates, and the elections were more of a formality. Despite this, the
Rainier union has traditionally been active during elections, always supporting the
incumbents. “Unions in general are very powerful here [during elections],” reported a

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Rainier administrator, “by endorsing, making phone banks, walking the streets, and
providing financial resources.”
The November 2011 election was even less competitive than usual – two seats
were open, and the two incumbents were running unopposed. At a school board meeting
in mid-September, the RTA president used part of her regular report to update the board
on the union’s activities: “The RTA has been doing a lot for the upcoming elections,
privately with individual board members and with my endorsement committee. It’s like a
marriage, and we renewed our vows. We all share the same values, and you’re all RTA-
endorsed candidates.”
It appeared, however, that her promise of endorsement was premature. RTA
leaders did want to endorse the incumbents, even though the board had not responded to
union demands to open a superintendent search. Their support was based on political
considerations. “We have nothing to gain by not endorsing,” said one union leader. “I
think later on if there’s people we truly don’t want on the board, that’s when we make our
move. Why piss them off in the interim? [The incumbents] were two of the friendlier
board members to us.”
The general council of union members, however, did not share their leaders’ far-
sighted reasoning. “RTA leadership had taken the position that we were looking at their
full body of work and felt that they deserved endorsement,” explained a union leader,
“but the council was more concerned about the immediate lack of action on the
superintendent search.” Without approval from its general council, RTA could not give
the endorsements.

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The Rainier school board responded immediately after RTA informed the
incumbents of the union’s decision. They hired a consulting firm that specialized in
superintendent recruitment. The board then invited RTA leaders to meet with the
consultants, to help define the qualifications of the ideal candidate. Once final candidates
were identified, the union would participate in interviews and visit candidates in their
home districts. One of the incumbents explained the response: “The teacher’s union
decided not to endorse us even though we were running unopposed, and not give us any
money, because they wanted to see a new superintendent. So they exercised their power.
They knew where to get us. That prompted a lot more discussion on the board about
expediting the superintendent search.”
Afterwards, district actors raised two important questions about the search. First,
after two years of inaction, why did the board respond to union demands when the
incumbents knew they had already lost RTA’s endorsement? And second, could RTA
count the outcome as a true success?
Rainier board members offered one reason for the board’s reaction: they needed
stakeholder buy-in during the leadership change. “If I want less headaches with the new
superintendent transition, I’m gonna include the stakeholders to identify what’s important
to them. It’s cynical, but it’s really self-serving,” said one Rainier board member.
Another board member agreed: “The reason we keep all of our unions in the loop and we
value their input as to the superintendent is because we will need their cooperation in the
future no matter what.” Union leaders identified a different reason for the board’s
response, related not to board members’ professional interests but to their political ones.

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An RTA leader explained, “[they respond to us] just to appease us. It’s like everything
around here, it’s political. Some of these people have a higher aspiration or they have to
run for re-election and they want our endorsement.”
The second question – whether the outcome favored RTA interests – also had two
possible answers. The RTA president had an optimistic view, citing the outcome as a
victory for the union. Others had a more pragmatic interpretation. The union’s executive
director agreed that the union achieved minor successes – the board hired a consulting
firm and invited the union to interviews. However, the board allowed the consultants to
set the hiring timeline, and a new superintendent would not be selected until the start of
the following school year. “We have not been successful,” the RTA director said bluntly.
“Are we able to make this board get a superintendent within a reasonable period of time?
No. Well really then, we failed.” That failure was not lost on a Rainier board member. He
recalled the firm’s presentation during a board meeting in late October: “The consulting
firm reported they have been directed by the board to move forward immediately and
take all the time they need. So what is that saying? We move forward just the way we
were before we had this discussion. We don’t do anything different other than publically
make a statement that we’ve pacified the stakeholders.”
Each of the preceding examples has a clear decision-making outcome: in
McKinley, the selection of Achievement Plus and a furlough day agreement with two of
three days rescinded; in Rainier, the reinstatement of the RFOC and the opening of the
superintendent search. Each also raises a host of complicated questions. How did district
actors influence the decision-making process such that these were the outcomes? What

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resources did each have available, and how did they leverage those resources to influence
one another? Did one actor fail while another succeeded because they lacked resources,
because they could not use them, or because they chose not to? And how much were
decision-making processes and outcomes affected by actor behavior as compared to
environmental conditions? In this chapter, I describe the power resources and strategies
available to board members, superintendents, and teachers’ unions.
Research Question 1: Available Power Resources
What power resources are available to school board members, superintendents and
district administrators, and teachers’ union leaders?
In both cases, I observed a number of power resources available to district actors.
Figure 2.1 shows how external groups offer resources to actors in the legitimate political
system in return for decision-making outcomes that reflect the interests of those groups.
The teachers’ union could grant or deny resources to district leaders; these resources in
turn give weight to the unions’ demands should district leaders lack, and desire, them.
Internal district actors also use power resources as they interact; while internal actors
more frequently exert pressure on one another instead of making explicit demands, the
desire to gain or keep resources motivates actor behavior because power resources are
scarce, and unequally distributed.
To identify the specific power resources that Rainier and McKinley actors had
available to them, I categorized the resources I observed and which were reported in
interviews into the four types I defined in Chapter 2: material, knowledge, positional, and
social. Some of the resources I observed have also been named in the literature: for

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example, the work on the role of teachers’ unions in school board elections identified
material resources, such as union dues, which can be used to donate to candidates or run
campaigns on their behalf (e.g. Hess, 1999; Moe, 2005). However, many of the available
resources I observed, such as the ability to set and describe the budget, or the authority to
hold closed meetings, were the result of open coding during data analysis. In this chapter,
and in Chapter 5, I present only resources and strategies that I observed directly or that
were reported to me by the study participants, regardless of whether the resource or
strategy was mentioned in the extant literature. While I summarize my observations in
these two chapters, in Appendix C I include a list of every power resource I observed or
that was reported to me by my informants.
Table 4.1 summarizes available power resources, compared between McKinley
and Rainier and organized by actor and resource type. Some resources were context-
independent – they were guaranteed by the law or the nature of the position, regardless of
any environmental factors22F
26
Other resources were context-dependent, meaning that their
availability was shaped by external or internal conditions which varied from district to
district. Stars in Table 4.1 indicate context-independent resources, and check marks
indicate context-dependent resources. For example, board members, superintendents and
cabinet members, and union leaders all might have had a dedicated staff and
infrastructure such as a permanent office and technology for communication.
Superintendents and administrators always had that resource (shown by a star), since it is

26
Because the right to bargain, the scope of bargaining, and the right to strike are determined by state law,
these resources are not necessarily guaranteed in other states/districts. In this work, I define contracts,
grievances, and strikes as context-independent because McKinley and Rainier are in California and state
law guarantees those rights to unions.

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part of their position in the district office. Board members in neither of the two districts
had a dedicated staff, but in Rainier the teachers’ union had a full-time executive director,
a full-time executive assistant, and office space in a building they owned. In some cases,
resources are blacked out because they are not available to a particular actor: boards and
superintendents do not collect dues, so they do not have that material resource available
to them at all.
When I compared the resource distribution of boards, superintendents, and unions
in each district, I found that certain actors had a clear comparative advantage. The
shading in Table 4.1 shows this; the darker red color indicates a comparative advantage
in a particular type of resource over the actor(s) with lighter shading. The comparative
advantages in a particular type of resource varied by district – for example, in McKinley,
the board and superintendent had an advantage in social resources over the teachers’
union, whereas in Rainier, the advantage was reversed. I conjecture as to how
environmental factors led to these differences in resource distribution in Chapter 5.

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McKinley Rainier
B S U B S U
MAT
Money: member dues, contributions, and/or personal wealth    
Time to spend on the job    
Dedicated staff and infrastructure   
KNOWLEDGE
Systemic knowledge: district norms and procedures     
Systemic knowledge: power structure of the community     
Systemic knowledge: public demands and mood    
Systemic knowledge: teacher demands and mood  
Operational knowledge: district status and operations   
Operational knowledge: budget   
Operational knowledge: calendars and agendas  
Operational knowledge: contact information   
Personal knowledge      
Professional knowledge, experience, and training     
POSITIONAL
Authority to act: final legal authority, approval power  
Authority to act: rights guaranteed by labor contract  
Authority to act: hire/fire power    
Authority to act: can act without oversight    
Authority to act: invited participation 
Permission to limit: oversight of others   
Permission to limit: right to invite or exclude    
Permission to limit: closed meetings      
Permission to limit: protections guaranteed by state law  
Access to scope: priority-setting    
Access to scope: writer of policies and budgets  
Access to scope: agenda-setting     
Opportunity to persuade: access to voters    
Opportunity to persuade: access to district leaders     
Opportunity to persuade: access to parents and students     
Opportunity to persuade: access to teachers and employees   
Opportunity to persuade: access to media    
SOCIAL
Community allies: elites or elite groups   
Community allies: broad-based support    
District allies: district and/or union leaders    
Board majority  
Teacher majority   
Internal cohesion   
Table 4.1. Available power resources for boards and board members (B), superintendents and
administrators (S), and teachers’ unions (U).
Stars ( ) show context-independent resources and checks ( ) indicate contextually-independent resources;
a blank square means the actor in that district did not have the resource even though it was available, and a
blacked-out square shows resources that were not available to a particular actor at all.
Shading indicates an observed comparative advantage in a particular resource type.

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Material Resources
The first section of Table 4.1 shows the material resources available to each actor.
In both McKinley and Rainier, the most significant material resources were time and
money. Both unions had money from member dues, but only one had dedicated staff;
many Rainier leaders reported the RTA’s executive director was among the most
powerful people in the district.
Because the teachers’ unions had financial resources and discretion over how to
spend them, they had an advantage in material resources over other district actors.
Superintendents and board members arguably had financial resources too, because they
controlled district reserves. However, their power to allocate or reallocate those reserves
was limited by state and federal law, local policy mandates, employee contracts, and the
district’s strategic plan or pre-stated goals. When negotiating furlough days, for example,
the McKinley superintendent had, months earlier, committed to eliminating these days
should sufficient funding become available. While the district was not required to use the
health care rebate to rescind the days, the superintendent’s public dedication to
preserving student instructional minutes severely limited the discretion he had over
allocating the rebate money.
Knowledge Resources
I organized the available knowledge resources into four general varieties:
systemic knowledge (decision-making structures, district norms, and public opinion),
operational knowledge (status, operations, budgets, schedules, and agendas), and
professional knowledge (job-specific information, experience, and training), and personal

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knowledge (general intelligence and skills, plus independently-gained information on
education laws, policies, and research).
A comparison of the two districts showed little variation in the distribution of
operational information: in both cases, the superintendent and cabinet were the primary
source and filter of operational information, and therefore had a tremendous advantage in
knowledge resources over boards and unions. Because they operate and manage the
district, administrators were aware of every detail of revenues and expenditures, facilities,
personnel, student performance, and countless other elements. Administrators also
decided how to represent operational data, at what point in the decision-making process
the information would become available, and to whom. Often this was delegated to
cabinet members. “[The superintendent] trusts that we are giving [the board] appropriate
information and that we’re supporting the same goals [as he is]” related a McKinley
administrator. For example, when negotiating furlough days, McKinley school board
members depended on administrators’ financial reports, especially those who did not
have personal experience with budgets or accounting. At the same time, union leaders
expressed frustration at their comparative disadvantage in operational knowledge – UTM
did not have direct access to the district’s financial data (and often lacked the business
acumen to interpret the data for themselves). Unlike the union in McKinley, the RTA
shared much of the administrators’ operational information, either through firsthand
knowledge or because administrators shared it with them.
Systemic knowledge is arguably one of the most important power resources of all
– an actor may have an advantage in any other type of resource, but without knowledge

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of how to leverage those resources effectively within the given system, their other
resources are essentially useless. Again, a comparison of McKinley and Rainier shows
administrators in both had the advantage in systemic knowledge; they knew how
demands were translated into policies and actions because they were responsible for that
translation process. Union leaders in Rainier had systemic knowledge as well. For
example, RTA knew who within the central office was responsible for financial
decisions, how to access them, and who to pressure so that they provided the RFOC with
the information it requested. The unions in both districts had one other form of systemic
knowledge: they received information about state funding projections from the state
teachers’ association. In Rainier especially, this information was coveted by district
leaders and the union used it to its advantage. However, McKinley leaders received much
of the same information through its connections to an education lobby organization, and
therefore the union’s information did not hold much value. Neither did the union’s
personal and professional knowledge: because district leaders questioned the professional
expertise of UTM leaders, that resource was not a particular helpful asset for the union.
Positional Resources
School boards should have the comparative advantage in available context-
independent positional resources because they were the legitimate government of the
school district. No district policy (including budgets and layoffs), bargaining agreement,
or administrator hiring can pass without their approval. They can severely limit the
discretionary power of the superintendent should they so choose, or grant him the option
to act with little oversight, as they did in McKinley. Even when the board delegated

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policy-writing responsibilities to the administrators, it still set the direction and priorities
of the district. As a McKinley cabinet member explained, the role of the senior
administrators is “to implement the instructional program of the district and to implement
the direction of the board.”
The superintendent and cabinet in both districts also had important positional
power resources: they set school board calendars and agendas, had the authority to hire
and fire teachers and interview and recommend administrators, and, crucially, reserved
the right to invite or exclude external participants (including the teachers’ union) in the
decision-making process. However, a district-to-district comparison showed that
positional resources were context-dependent, largely determined by how much autonomy
the school board permitted the administrators. In McKinley, the board granted the
superintendent a high degree of discretion; the superintendent and cabinet then used
administrative actions to make high-impact decisions like the A+ selection with minimal
board oversight. So while the McKinley board theoretically had the advantage in
positional resources, it deferred their advantage to the superintendent. The McKinley
superintendent summarized his strength: “The superintendent is the most powerful person
in the district. Ultimately all major decisions come through this office.”
The Rainier Unified board, in contrast, used micromanagement to limit the
context-dependent positional resources of its administrators. “Because we don’t have a
strong superintendent, the board directs [the administrators]. ‘You do this. You do that.’
It’s a little warped,” observed an RTA leader. The reinstatement of the RFOC is an
example of board micromanagement: because board members valued union support, they

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used a public board meeting to insist that administrators respond to RFOC requests even
when the cabinet was already handling the issue.
Both unions also had the context-independent positional resource of mandated
involvement in contract negotiations. Board members, administrators, and union leaders
all acknowledged the power of the union contract during interviews. Regardless of the
specifics of any particular contract provision, every informant believed that it was a
powerful resource because its existence limited the discretionary power of the board and
superintendent. However, evidence from both districts suggested that three factors
substantially diminished the power of the McKinley and Rainier contracts. First,
contracts are not unilateral decisions made by the teachers’ union, but are rather
negotiated agreements between the union and the district. Second, there are a number of
decisions that affect teachers but are outside the scope of bargaining. Layoffs are
implemented through board policies, and the selection of instructional programs like A+
is an administrator action. Employee unions must be invited to participate in these
decisions. Third, administrators reported that they were more hindered by the state budget
and funding model, and by underfunded state and federal mandates, than the contracts
with their unions.
In McKinley Unified the teachers’ union had few contextually-dependent
positional resources – McKinley leaders did not give the union entrée to board policies
and administrator actions. In contrast to UTM, the Rainier Teachers’ Association had
invited access to important financial decisions through the RFOC and other standing
advisory committees. Reports from employee unions were on the agenda of every school

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board meeting. The superintendent and deputy superintendent met bi-weekly with the
union president and executive director, and each was in constant communication with one
another.
One key positional resource available to all district actors was the ability to meet
privately. Private meetings enabled actors to determine the group’s position first without
revealing it an opponent and allowed for private debate so that dissenting participants
could express their views while the group appeared publically united. McKinley leaders
demonstrated the utility of this resource when they selected A+. While the law permits
that only confidential personnel, legal, and negotiations issues are discussed during
closed school board sessions, district and union leaders in both districts reported that this
was not the case. A board member in Rainier related that closed meetings hid
disagreement: “Sometimes not everyone comes out of closed session happy, but we’ve
learned to accept losses. We don’t feel that our community needs to hear our sausage-
making and our issues.” A UTM leader related that this placed the board at an advantage
over the union. “Our board has usually operated that all discussion and debate takes place
behind closed doors so that they come out as a united front…They feel that they have a
responsibility to stick together,” she reported. “It affects us horribly because we don’t
know where the real issues are…which makes speaking with them [in open session]
pointless and a waste of time.”
Social Resources
I divided the considerable social resources I observed in McKinley and Rainier
into three general categories: community, district, and internal.

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Community social resources were connections to political elites and influential
families, organized groups, and broad-based support. A comparison of the two districts
showed that different community social resources were important in different districts. In
Rainier, board members were tied to local political elites and families. Some had family
members currently elected to state and local office, or formerly held those positions
themselves. Others had careers in city government or with national NGOs. “A lot of them
were elected through the community or through their names,” said a Rainier school board
member of his colleagues.
Broad-based constituent support from employees, parents, and voters was another
sought-after community social resource for Rainier leaders. Rainier is ethnically and
politically homogeneous. The community is almost completely Hispanic and working-
class, liberal and Democratic, pro-labor and pro-union (and often union members
themselves). District leaders reported that most of Rainier Unified’s teachers live in
Rainier’s attendance boundaries, so they are parents and voters as well as employees.
“The teachers, their kids are in the school district. We all decided to move back after
college,” said a board member. An RTA leader, herself a teacher, resident, and parent of
two current Rainier students, stated that Rainier Unified is “almost incestual, with a
political underlay, because there’s so many people that are in the district, that teach in the
district, that live in the voting district. We’re their constituents, we’re a vote.” The
responsiveness of board members to external demands illustrated the high value of broad-
based constituent support and elite allies in Rainier. Because of these community social
resources, “so much of the board is like a favor/crony board” said a union leader.

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In McKinley, there were no political elites or well-established political families.
Rather, social interest groups were the dominant community social resource. Residents
are racially, ethnically, and socioeconomically diverse, and heterogeneity fostered a
handful of powerful social interest groups from which district leaders sought support.
Each of these groups – a community-based service club, the local arts council, the PTA,
and a fund-raising booster organization called the McKinley Education Foundation
(MEF) – had social resources to grant its allies. McKinley’s active European immigrant
population, many of them business owners, was largely represented in the service club;
the arts council and education foundation was made up of mostly affluent Caucasian
parents and retirees. The MEF consisted of residents, local business owners, district
leaders and alumni, and teachers. Nearly three-quarters of the McKinley parents belonged
to the PTA.
These organizations were important resources not just because of their members,
but because they funded programs that the district could not afford because of limited
financial resources. In the past six years, the MEF donated over $500,000 to McKinley
Unified to support arts, technology, and health programs, ensuring the district could still
offer these programs while surrounding districts had eliminated them. The PTA gave
scholarships, training, and grants to students and teachers.
The second general form of available social resources was district allies. Every
board member, administrator, and union leader in both districts was aligned with, or at
least receptive to, someone from another group. Some district allies were gained through

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institutionalized or formal procedures. Board members, for example, had an ally in the
superintendent because they hired him.
Informal connections were an equally important source of valuable district social
resources, although these connections took different forms in the two cases. In McKinley,
administrators and board members shared social connections through community groups,
churches, or youth sports. Rainier actors had district allies because nearly every
administrator, board member, and union leader had history in the district and in the
community. “Half of the teachers in the union are my friends from high school and
college,” said a Rainier school board member. Most of the administrators, including the
superintendent, were promoted from within after many years of service in the district.
“The cabinet members, the superintendent, the assistant superintendents, many of them
were former students, former teachers here,” said the Rainier Teachers’ Association
president. “Many of them were actively involved in the RTA…We have a really family-
owned entity.”
For unions, an important district social resource was the board majority. The
McKinley superintendent explained: “As soon as you get the majority of the board going
in one direction, the will of the majority starts to kick in.” Rainier’s union president
concurred, saying, “[district leaders are receptive us because] we worked very, very hard
to get involved with board elections. And we’re happy to report that all of the current
board members were endorsed by the Association.”
Finally, the teachers themselves were a crucial district social resource. A Rainier
board member noted, “The teachers hold the power here. They have numbers. We can do

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policies, we can govern, we can lead and manage, but they’re the ones that are in the
classroom every day.” When McKinley administrators appealed to teachers directly with
furlough day site visits, they demonstrated the value of the teachers as a social resource.
Internal allies are the third general type of social resource. In both districts, each
group of actors – board members, administrators, and union leaders – was more powerful
if they had internal unity. The administrators in each district reported that they were
highly cohesive with one another because of a combination of similar ideologies, similar
work ethics, and personal history. In McKinley, cohesion was the result of personnel
selectivity: the superintendent hired nearly all of the cabinet members himself.
While administrators in both districts had internal allies, the union did so only in
Rainier. Union leaders reported that the rank-and-file teachers supported them, and that
the RTA executive board members generally agreed with one another. The United
Teachers of McKinley, however, did not have internal unity. There was little cohesion
among UTM leaders, and between UTM leaders and their membership. “[UTM has] a lot
of their own members that are not happy,” said a McKinley school board member, when
asked about the UTM march on the school board meeting during furlough day
negotiations. “There were 50 teachers there but there were 2,000 teachers that weren’t
there. I know a lot of people that are saying to me, ‘How can I get out of the union, they
don’t speak for me.’”
Determining which district actor held the comparative advantage in available
social resources was difficult because all of the potential resources were context-
dependent. A teachers’ union might, in theory, hold a comparative advantage in social

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resources because of their large membership, but their access to those resources can be
constrained by environmental factors. Demographics, local political ideology, and
community structure increased the community social resources of the teachers’ union in
Rainier, yet decreased the same social resources of the union in McKinley. Comparative
advantage was also difficult to assign because not all social resources were equally
valued. The Rainier Teachers’ Association had both in-district allies and broad-based
community support. When union leaders regained RFOC’s autonomy they only leveraged
the former; board members responded to union pressure during the superintendent search
only after the union threatened to mobilize the latter. I discuss how environmental context
affects resource availability in detail in Chapter 5.
While district actors in Rainier and McKinley had a wide variety of resources
available to them, having access to a resource, or having a comparative advantage in a
resource, did not ensure that an actor influenced decision-making. In order to affect
decision-making, three other conditions were required: the actor had a strategy available
to leverage their resources, the actor chose to use the strategy, and other actors responded
to the action. Research Question 2 addresses available strategies.
Research Question 2: Available Power Strategies
When actors use power strategies to leverage their resources, what types of strategies do
they use, where are those strategies located, what is the goal of each strategy, and which
dimensions of power do those strategies represent?
As argued in Chapter 2, possessing power resources does not alone ensure that an
actor will be able to exert influence. The actor must also deploy those resources in such a

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way that the action is likely to work. Figure 2.1 conceptualizes power strategies as
arrows, indicating that one actor is performing an action in order to affect the behavior of
another. Power strategies take place outside of the legitimate political system – external
actors without any governance authority offer or deny their resources to district leaders in
exchange for a favorable decision-making outcome. Power strategies are also internal the
legitimate political system, since even actors who do have legitimate authority still
cannot control all the outcomes of decision-making and must therefore use a power
strategy to sway those who do.
In both McKinley and Rainier Unified, I observed numerous power strategies. To
classify them, I used the three dimensions of political power drawn from the literature:
direct authority, constraint, and manipulation. For each of these dimensions, or faces,
power is defined as the domination of one actor by another; domination occurs when
actors’ interests conflict. In the first two dimensions, conflict is overt. In the third, it is
latent. During data analysis, I created a fourth category of action to describe how political
actors protect their interests: strategic accommodation. Strategic accommodation is the
calculated exchange, combination, or concession of resources in order to reach a mutually
agreeable goal. I label strategic accommodation “zero face” actions and use it as a
counterpart to third-face strategies, which I defined as a willful act on the part of actor A
to encourage the compliance of actor B without actor A conceding any of his own
resources. A zero-face strategy promotes compliance, but unlike third face strategies it
also requires concession. Strategic accommodation can still represent domination, and is
not necessarily altruistic or selfless (although it can be). Actors may cooperate because

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their interests truly coincide, or their interests can conflict but they may choose to
concede to one another without reaching genuine consensus.
27

As I analyzed and compared my data, I identified hundreds of individual
strategies actors used to leverage their resources. Some strategies, such as endorsement or
donation, were explicit and overt. Others – for example, information control – were
subtle, tacit, and subject to interpretation. At times, actors were unaware that a routine
procedure was also a power strategy. For example, the lack of time dedicated to a UTM
report on McKinley’s board meeting agenda had been an institutionalized practice for
longer than most administrators had been in office.
In the tables (4.2-5) below, I present the power strategies available to district
actors in McKinley and Rainier. The tables are not intended to be exhaustive, but are
rather meant to highlight key strategies that substantially changed (or dramatically failed
to change) the balance of power and influenced decisions. Strategies are organized by
description and dimension, and each table follows a similar format. The column headings
label the actor using the strategy; “Board Admin” means that board members, either as
individuals or as a group, used that particular strategy to influence the superintendent or
cabinet members, and “AdminBoard” indicates that administrators used that strategy to
influence the board. Columns also are color-coded by the actor using each strategy – the

27
Strategic accommodation is not a new concept. It combines aspects of sociological, economic, and
organizational theories. Sociological theory defines “power with” or “power through” as power exercised
within and through coalition (McFarland, 2006; Sabatier, 1988). Economic/ecological theory recognizes
productive, integrative, and exchange power as collaborative activities that involve reciprocity or
compassion (Boulding, 1989). In organizational theory, “negotiated accommodation” is willful concession
to minimize conflict or more efficiently accomplish organizational goals (Kimbrough, 1964; Willower,
1991). Here I use it as a political concept because strategic accommodation is not necessarily altruistic or
selfless (although it can be). Actors may cooperate because their interests coincide, or their interests can
conflict but they may choose to concede to one another without reaching true consensus.

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board is green, the superintendent and cabinet yellow, and the union purple. Because
these tables are built from data, I only checked strategies which I observed at least once,
an admitted limitation of a two-district case study. If I observed a strategy in both
districts, the box is checked. If I observed a strategy in only one district, the boxes are
marked with either an M (McKinley) or an R (Rainier). As in Table 4.1, blank boxes are
strategies that were available but not used, and blacked-out boxes are strategies that were
not possible.
In the text that follows each table, I describe in detail selected influential, or
potentially influential, available power strategies. I also include which actors I observed
using each strategy, and the strategy’s location and goal. I highlight these particular
strategies for two reasons. The first is frequency. Some were particularly frequent or
pervasive in both districts. Others were more common in only one of the two districts.
Some, like rallies or endorsements, I only observed once but at key moments. My second
selection criterion is success. I observed that some strategies were successful in both
districts, whereas some were only successful in either McKinley or Rainier. A discussion
of why some strategies were more or less common, and more or less successful, is
reserved for Chapter 5.
First-Face Power Strategies of Direct Authority
Table 4.2 summarizes observed first-face power strategies and the actors who
used each. For example, the first row in Table 4.2 represents the first-face strategy of
using legal authority to make decisions for others. In both cases, the board used its
authority to make governance decisions for the district. Likewise, the union used its

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official authority to approve and veto contracts and other negotiated provisions to control
the board and administrators. However, actors in two districts also showed distinct
differences in the way that they used first-face strategies. In McKinley, the union and
administrators used direct authority more often than those actors did in Rainier, whereas
in Rainier, the board was more likely to use direct authority to influence administrators
than was the McKinley board. In the text following Table 4.2, I describe specific first-
face strategies.

Board 
Admin
Board 
Union
Board 
Board
Admin 
Board
Admin 
Union
Union 
Board
Union 
Admin
First Face Strategies: Direct Authority (Goals: Dominate, Coerce, Threaten)
Official authority: exercise legal right to make decisions for others   M  
Official authority: apply state labor laws, threaten lawsuits M M
Official authority: cite contract, threaten grievances or strike M M
Professional authority: micromanage R
Professional authority: fire, demote, or fail to promote employees R M
Table 4.2. First-face power strategies available to board members, administrators, and unions.

Strategy(ies): Use official authority to make decisions for others; micromanagement
Actor(s): School board
Location: Micropolitical
Goal: Dominate, coerce

As the governing body of a school district, the school board has the direct
authority to make decisions for others. They approve or veto all policies, budgets, and
contracts. School boards can act without oversight from the administrators they appoint.
Should they so choose, they can micromanage the superintendent and cabinet or give
them more discretion. While school boards are subject to the same constraints as any
other local governing board in that they must follow state and federal law (an often-
exhaustive list that includes state education code and labor law, ESEA and other federal

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policies, and the Brown Act which in California limits the private communication
between board members), they are the only actor in the local legitimate political system
for education that is legally sanctioned to govern it.
Board members in both districts exercised their direct authority, but in different
ways. In Rainier, board members used micromanagement, even turning it into a public
show. During a board meeting, when the RFOC chairperson expressed concern about not
receiving information, one board member was quick to blame central office staff and
instruct them to respond to the RFOC’s requests. He did not acknowledge that the issue
had been resolved days earlier through communication between the financial office, the
superintendent, and RFOC leaders.
Rainier administrators and union leaders saw micromanagement as a political
strategy that board members used to protect their interests. The Rainier superintendent
described board member action, saying, “By their nature, and by their position, they are
more political than I am…If there are ever attempts at micromanaging, generally they are
because there is some political agenda.” A teachers’ union leader offered a more blunt
description: “They’re into this strange little control freak stuff where they don’t want
anything to happen without their approval.” As a result, the superintendent found that one
of his primary activities was brokering board member demands. The superintendent
described how he keeps these demands in check: he reminds board members of the
potential political consequences of their requests. “The board members are political
animals,” he related. “Recognizing that doesn’t mean that they don’t have the best
interest of the students at heart, but it’s my job, in part, to guide them through that and

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say, ‘Please be mindful of the fact that if you do things for political reasons…then there
could be the downside.’”
In Rainier, the board used direct authority only with the administrators, not with
the teachers’ union. To save money, the board could have fired teachers, but it did not.
“Most districts automatically give out pink slips to protect the organization because of
financial uncertainty,” related a Rainier board member, “but we also know from the
human side what that does. It is those types of things that go long ways with the teachers’
organization.” Rather than fire teachers, district and union leaders negotiated an early
retirement plan.
Unlike in Rainier, the McKinley Unified board members rarely exercised direct
authority beyond approving administrator-recommended policies. Instead, they delegated
a significant portion of their official authority to the superintendent. However, they did
not grant the superintendent and cabinet complete discretion. Rather than issuing
mandates, the board used a second-face strategy, and set the vision for the district by
designing a strategic plan that included arts, language, technology, and college readiness;
implementation, again, was left to the superintendent.
Strategy(ies): Cite contract and state labor laws; threaten grievance or lawsuit
Actor(s): Teachers’ union
Location: Micropolitical
Goal: Coerce, threaten

Teachers’ unions have direct authority as well, although instead of forcing others
to act, they instead prohibit district actions that violate the terms of their labor agreement.
Should the district breach the terms of the contract, a union can enter a formal grievance.
Contract provisions cannot be changed by district leaders without negotiation, and if the

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district and union not do come to an agreement during negotiations the parties usually
resort to external mediation or arbitration. Further, a union can file a lawsuit if it believes
that a district is in violation of state labor laws. Because mediation, arbitration,
grievances, and lawsuits are often costly and time-consuming, even the threat of such
action can be enough to impel a district to comply with union demands.
Unions in the two districts demonstrated a sharp contrast in the way they used thir
direct authority. The United Teachers of McKinley frequently relied on its contract to
control district actions. “They hate the fact that we have a contract. Their goal is to get rid
of the union and get rid of the contract,” said a UTM leader. “They would like to be able
to pay us at will, how much they want, when they want. They’d like to be able to fire
teachers whenever they want.” Nearly all of the UTM leaders reported that their role was
to “protect” the teachers from violations to the collective bargaining agreement. A
striking illustration of this strategy was the UTM leaders’ willingness to take the
scheduled 2011-2012 furlough days even though neither they nor McKinley leaders
wanted them to. UTM feared that, should they concede to district pressure to breach their
own contract by pushing the days past the end of the contract’s term, the other protections
afforded to them under their contract could be further undermined.
While the McKinley union frequently used first-face strategies to leverage their
positional resources, the Rainier Teachers’ Association rarely did so. Negotiations in
McKinley went to arbitration twice in the past five years; in Rainier they have not done
so in decades. In the fall of 2011, UTM filed several grievances regarding teacher pay,
hours, hazardous working conditions, and professional autonomy, plus a lawsuit related

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to maternity leave. During that time, RTA filed none. Union leaders in Rainier largely
saw their role as brokering communication with a receptive district, not protecting
members from a district that imposed its own direct authority. “My main function is to
hear the concerns of our members,” said the union president. “We have such a good
relationship with the superintendent’s cabinet that I can literally go to an assistant
superintendent, say we have a particular issue, and make arrangements to have someone
work with the problem.”
Second-Face Power Strategies of Constraint
In addition to authoritative action, actors used strategies of constraint to control
who had access to the decision-making process and which issues were open for decisions
at all. Table 4.3 lists a number of such second-face strategies. Comparing McKinley and
Rainier yielded two observations. First, second-face strategies were much more prevalent
in McKinley than they were in Rainier. Second, these strategies were used by both the
board and the administrators to exclude the teachers’ union, while the teachers’ union
rarely used second-face strategies to constrain district leaders. I describe several
strategies in detail in the text following Table 4.3.

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Board 
Admin
Board 
Union
Board 
Board
Admin 
Board
Admin 
Union
Union 
Board
Union 
Admin
Second Face Strategies: Constraint (Goals: Exclude, Limit, Marginalize, Nullify)
Access control: electoral politics to affect board composition  M 
Access control: change board rotation to keep members out of
leadership positions
 
Access control: involve/invite others only when required R M   M
Access control: restrict communication with leaders, limit speaking
during meetings
M M  M
Access control: debate/decide in private, appear unified in public      
Access control: hire weak/like-minded superintendent or staff
(friends, allies, internal promotions)
  M R
Information control: inform only as required, inform retroactively  M
Behavior control: use norms to encourage compliance     
Agenda control: determine meeting agendas and issue calendars  
Agenda control: dictate district vision/goals, create strategic plan M M  
Calendar control: set inconvenient meetings; withhold schedules M M
Calendar control: deliberate time delay       
Table 4.3. Second-face power strategies available to board members, administrators, and unions.

Strategy(ies): Access control: Electoral politics to affect school board composition
Actor(s): Teachers’ union, school board members
Location: Macropolitical
Goal: Exclude, limit

Union leaders in both districts reported that, by altering the composition of the
school board, they controlled who made the decisions that affected teachers and their
working conditions. Electoral activities are therefore second-face power strategies. When
they used this strategy, unions offered their financial and social resources – money and
members – with the goal of gaining at least one union-friendly seat on the school board,
or even a board majority.
While unions in both districts used electoral politics, the strategies of each
differed markedly. In McKinley Unified, board elections were competitive. To shape the
composition of the board, UTM endorsed candidates, made donations, provided
volunteers to candidates’ campaigns to walk precincts and make telephone calls, created

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a political action committee (PAC) to campaign on behalf of a candidate, offered expert
advice to new candidates, and ran a negative campaign against an incumbent. In the most
recent election, the union spent $40,000 through their PAC campaigning for two board
members and against a third. UTM far outspent every other external interest group and
outstripped the personal investments of all but one of the nine total candidates.
28
The
election ended with one union-endorsed candidate winning, filling the lone pro-union seat
on a 4-1 board; the incumbent opposed by the union was reelected as well.
While the same electoral strategies were available to the Rainier Teachers’
Association, the RTA rarely offered more than endorsement and small direct donations.
“A school board race is about $100,000 and the union typically gives anywhere from
$7,500 to $10,000 so the money is not a big deciding factor,” said a Rainier board
member. “They don’t aggressively walk or talk for you or phone bank and they don’t
give you a lot of money. They don’t bankroll campaigns.” In Rainier, because of the high
value leaders placed on broad-based support, endorsement is the union’s primary
strategy. “We are heavy participants in the elections and heavy parts of the community
look to us for political endorsement,” said the RTA executive director. “Some of [the
board members] have political interest to go further and they want to stay in our good
graces.” RTA strategically used endorsement – or lack thereof – to affect the

28
Federal election law prohibits nonprofit organizations from participating in political campaigns,
including endorsing or donating to candidates, distributing campaign materials, and forming PACs
(Panepento, 2007). However, labor unions are subject to the same campaign finance restrictions as for-
profit corporations, regardless of their nonprofit status (Liptak, 2010). Therefore, the PTA and other non-
profit community organizations are limited in what they can do during elections: they can host a forum for
candidates where all are invited to participate, publish a questionnaire given to all candidates, register
voters regardless of political affiliation, remind members to vote, and provide information to candidates
(National Parent Teacher Association, n.d.). Members of non-profits can support candidates or PACs as
long as they do so as private citizens not affiliated with the non-profit.

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superintendent search. The incumbent board members did not need endorsement to win
that election, but one had family members in state office and the other was likely to run
for state assembly in the near future. The threat of going without the union’s endorsement
and social resources was enough that the board members granted RTA access into the
superintendent search process.
One similarity emerged in unions’ use of electoral politics: unions in both districts
recruited candidates to affect the composition of the board in their favor. Said Rainier’s
union president, “Right now, we’re putting out all kinds of feelers. I’m looking for
somebody who really has an understanding of public education, who understands the role
that unions play.” UTM leaders were likewise concerned that candidates understood the
work of teachers, especially important in the face of prevailing public opinion that
McKinley teachers were overcompensated with salaries and benefits protected against
economic recession. “We look for someone who’s been a teacher or been involved in
education so that they really understand what teachers are going through,” said a
McKinley union leader, “and they’re not just seeing it from the rose colored glasses of a
parent, thinking that ‘Oh these teachers are fine, they have benefits’.” Another reported
that UTM sought a candidate who would not be controlled by the board majority: “We
want someone who is savvy enough to not be swayed like [our previous candidate] was.”
Unions did not have a monopoly on electoral politics in either district, a surprising
finding given the scrutiny, and criticism, unions have received for influencing elections.
In both Rainier and McKinley Unified, sitting board members recruited new candidates
and gave them advice on how to run their campaigns. In Rainier, a cabinet member

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reported that he and other administrators recruited candidates as well. Sitting board
members in both districts gave one another endorsements on several occasions when a
board member ran for state office. McKinley board members and administrators
campaigned heavily for a school bond measure; when the popular measure passed, the
public image of McKinley leaders (and McKinley’s reserves) received a substantial
boost.
Strategy(ies): Control meeting agendas and issue calendars
Actor(s): Superintendent and executive cabinet
Location: Micropolitical
Goal: Exclude, limit, marginalize

Creating board meeting agendas and issue calendars – what issues and policies
will be discussed and when, and who will present reports – is nominally the responsibility
of the school board. However, in both McKinley and Rainier Unified the superintendent
and executive cabinet members performed these tasks. This strategy was especially
common in McKinley. In that district, union leaders and the single union-endorsed school
board member cited two reasons why agenda control limited their ability to act while
increasing the power of administrators and the board majority. First, only certain
decisions were open for discussion. The union-endorsed board member related, “As I was
reviewing my agenda for the next meeting, I got frustrated and I wrote myself a note that
said ‘this is a waste of time.’ …The real issues happen in the consent items [created by
the administrators] and I am left with responding to the board agenda, rather than creating
it.” By controlling meeting agendas, McKinley administrators therefore eliminated the
union’s opportunities for proactive involvement in decision-making.

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Second, in McKinley there was no time on board meeting agendas allotted for
reports from employee unions. District administrators had unlimited time to make reports
to the board, but UTM leaders could only speak, for five total minutes, during public
comment. “When I first became president, I was always invited to go up to the dais and
give notes to board members, to ask questions on items,” said the union president. Yet
during furlough day negotiations, she was restricted to public comment and was not
permitted to ask questions or speak at any other point during the meeting. McKinley
leaders did not allow her to use the boardroom projector to show slides and graphs.
Further, board members used the rules of public comment (“Board Members may
question the speaker but there will be no debate”) as a reason to neither acknowledge nor
engage with her at all.
Rainier administrators likewise set the agenda of school board meetings. It was
the Rainier administrators, for example, who reinstated the regular report from the
RFOC. Unlike their counterparts in McKinley, Rainier employee unions had the
opportunity to address the school board, with no time limit, at every meeting. These
reports were not bound by anything other than district norms, and board members would
often respond to, or even joke with, the RTA president when she spoke.
Third-Face Power Strategies of Manipulation
Actors use first- and second-face power strategies when their interests diverge.
One can either force a decision upon the other (first face) or exclude the other and their
interests from the decision-making process (second face). Actors have a third way to use
power: manipulate the interests of others such that they willingly or unwillingly comply

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with the acts of domination and act contrary to their original goals. Table 4.4 describes
some of these strategies. A comparison of third-face strategies between the two cases
shows a large variation in the strategies used, and by whom. The McKinley board and
administrators frequently used third-face strategies to manipulate the union, while the
same was not true in Rainier. In that district, the board used third-face strategies more
often than any other actor, but the recipient was not the union but the administrators.
Below, I describe specific strategies.

Board 
Admin
Board 
Union
Board 
Board
Admin 
Board
Admin 
Union
Union 
Board
Union 
Admin
Third Face Strategies: Manipulation (Goals: Persuade, Divert, Placate, Interfere)
Persuasion: policymaking strategies (collective action, lobbying,
direct appeals to the public)
M M M
Persuasion: issue/image strategies R M R  M M
Persuasion: cultivate powerful internal or external allies       R
Persuasion: filtering/spinning facts    
Persuasion: ask other to protect image of district/public education M M R M  
Persuasion: pressure to save jobs and money in uncertain economy  M
Persuasion: appeal to common sense, ask for help to avoid conflict R M  M R R
Persuasion: portray issue as complicated and requiring
simplification or specialized expertise
M   R R
Persuasion: pressure to act quickly, with inadequate information M   M
Diversion: hide mistakes, damage control M M 
Diversion: blame external conditions for unpopular decisions    
Placation: token involvement, consultation without action     
Interference: publically question intelligence/aptitude of others R M  M M M
Interference: divide actors from their base of support M  M M
Table 4.4. Third-face power strategies available to board members, administrators, and unions.

Strategy(ies): Information control (spin/filter, portray issue as complicated)
Actor(s): Superintendent and executive cabinet
Location: Micropolitical
Goal: Persuade, divert, placate

As I argued earlier, district administrators have an automatic comparative
advantage in knowledge resources. This information is highly specialized, and often
requires a significant amount of professional expertise (not to mention intelligence and

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systemic knowledge) to understand and apply it. One way actors leveraged this
information was by withholding it, a second-face strategy. However, board members
expected that administrators used their professional expertise to inform the lay board on
how to best govern the district.
Administrators were therefore more likely to manipulate information than
constrain it when they made reports and offered policy recommendations. Nearly every
administrator in both cases reported that their strategy for persuading school board
members to adopt a particular course of action was to either filter or spin information.
Filtering information is strategic selectivity. The Rainier superintendent described how he
used this strategy when communicating with school board members: “I need to provide
them data and information but I don’t want to inundate them.” McKinley administrators
reported using similar strategies to affect board member behavior, especially during the
furlough day negotiations which involved complicated financial data. The McKinley
CFO explained his role as a broker of knowledge resources: “You think about how you
can make [information] legitimate to [the board], that they know you are not just pulling
numbers out of the air, and then you simplify it to make whatever point you are trying to
make.”
When actors spin information, they present data in a way that it makes a particular
course of action seem favorable. Rainier administrators used this strategy frequently, to
placate board members or divert them from politically-motivated demands. In Rainier,
board members’ ties to community groups or elites often led them to call for actions that
were financially impractical, or went against administrator plans. Administrators used

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information control to convince board members to change their position. “They have to
believe [what we’re telling them] is the truth,” said a Rainier administrator, “so you take
several passes, and then you have to spin…Sometimes you have to even bring in
somebody from the outside because they won’t take it from you, but they’ll take it from
an expert.”
Teachers’ union leaders in both districts begrudged that a certain amount of
information control was necessary given the sheer quantity of information and the fact
that a lay board does not have the professional expertise required to interpret raw
numbers. However, the degree to which union leaders trusted administrators to relay
information to the board and the public was not the same in each district. The Rainier
Teachers’ Association viewed committees such as the RFOC as watchdogs to assure that
administrators controlled information only for the sake of clarity and not to serve
anyone’s personal interests. While they knew the district was not always perfectly
transparent, RTA was generally satisfied with way that the superintendent and
administrators gave their reports.
McKinley administrators stated that transparency was a high priority for them
because it engendered trust with the school board; however, UTM believed district
leaders used information control to manipulate the board. “The board members are only
privy to the information that they’re given. Their opinions are based on that information,
and they trust the assistant superintendents and the superintendent to give them accurate
information. But what they get isn’t always accurate,” said one UTM leader. During
contract negotiations, UTM leaders insisted that the district was underestimating its

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reserves so that it could claim the furlough days were necessary. The UTM president
bluntly described how this affected leaders’ behavior, and ultimately resulted in decision-
making outcomes that did not favor the union: “[The CFO] is the most powerful person
in the district, because he is the financial guru and he’s able to present his case financially
in such a way that everyone is afraid not to do what he says. …And I get the impression
that he really doesn’t like teachers.”
Strategy(ies): Cultivate district and community social resources (offer information,
attention, or flattery; image politics)
Actor(s): Board members, administrators, teachers’ union leaders
Location: Macropolitial, micropolitical
Goal: Persuade, placate

In-district social resources are valuable because they give actors access to
resources that they wouldn’t otherwise have. For example, a teachers’ union might not
normally have the knowledge or positional resources to affect district budgets, but an in-
district ally such as a sympathetic administrator might grant them access to those
resources. Actors in both districts used this strategy, but with the goal of cultivating
different types of social resources.
The Rainier union was highly successful at leveraging its in-district allies on the
board and in the central office when it reinstated the RFOC. “Our union is pretty good
about playing the board against the superintendent,” said an RTA leader. “If we don’t get
what we want from the superintendent we’ll go to the political end and use more political
power.” In Rainier Unified, one of the most sought-after allies was the teachers’ union
executive director. She related that board members regularly contacted her to trade
information for future union support. “On the stuff they know is important to us they’ll

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tell us a little something or say ‘I need your support.’” she said. “It’s not like anything
major. It’s more just to keep me in the loop, because they want to keep the relationship.”
Besides in-district allies, the other most desirable social resource in Rainier was
broad-based community support. To gain it, board members would offer parents and
constituents their time and attention, unusual for elected officials in a large, urban district.
Rather than micromanaging administrators privately, board members would do so during
the open session of school board meetings – they hoped to curry favor with parents by
demanding immediate action from the cabinet to resolve parent complaints. “If [a
community member] is unhappy with something, even though their issue was already
taken care of by the cabinet but maybe not to their liking, they’ll use the speaker’s
podium to get the desired results,” related a Rainier cabinet member. “It’s manipulation,
to some extent.” A Rainier union leader characterized the strategy similarly: “I think a lot
of what we see in the actual board meeting is for show. They’re playing to an audience
and they think it’s going to make them look good.”
District actors used macro- as well as micropolitical actions to cultivate allies.
While negotiating furlough days, nearly every McKinley board member and
administrator appeared at local events like holiday parades, plays, and award ceremonies.
Union leaders responded by sending representatives to the same holiday parade and
encouraging members to join the same organizations. A UTM leader explained why this
was an important strategy in an anti-union community: “My goal is for people to know a
teacher and know that they are regular people…not lazy or whatever we are made out to

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be, but that we also want to make a decent living and put food on the table for our own
families.”
Strategy(ies): Divide actors from their support, question the intelligence/aptitude of
others
Actor(s): Board members, administrators, teachers’ union leaders
Location: Micropolitical
Goal: Persuade, interfere

As actors gathered social resources, they also sought to strategically undermine
the social resources of others. This was far more prevalent in McKinley, where district
leaders exploited the union’s lack of internal unity. For example, when discussing
furlough days at school board meetings the four majority school board members subtly,
but publically, marginalized the teachers’ union president and patronized the single pro-
union delegate. “[The four] will be talking and walking out while he’s asking questions
and giving his report,” said a union leader. “I mean, just being rude, just out and out
rude.”
Other strategies to divide actors from their support were much more overt. During
furlough day negotiations, McKinley administrators scheduled site meetings so that they
could speak to teachers without union interference. The UTM president was not invited to
meetings and not allowed to speak when she was there. If no UTM leaders were present,
the McKinley superintendent told teachers that the district was ready to move forward
with negotiations, but that union leadership was stubbornly holding up bargaining with
little regard to either teacher or student interests. “Whenever there is anything that we’re
not agreeing with, they try to divide our membership,” explained a union leader. “[Board
members] are very frustrated with the union leadership,” related the McKinley CFO, “and

165

they are very responsive to teachers that contact them and email them. They feel that
UTM leadership is not open to really hearing what they are about, so they are working
with the teachers directly.” By dividing the union from its members, McKinley leaders
used UTM’s own resources – the teachers – to persuade UTM that it was in their best
interest to offer a counterproposal and eventually close the negotiations.
Strategy(ies): Policymaking strategies (lobbying, collective action)
Actor(s): Teachers’ union
Location: Macropolitical
Goal: Persuade

Collective action is a macropolitical activity commonly associated interest groups,
and was fairly common in McKinley Unified. In comparison, I did not observe this type
of action in Rainier. UTM tried to leverage its social resources by mobilizing its
members, as well as students, parents, and other employees. It encouraged them to write
letters, attend school board meetings, and march or rally on behalf of (or against) a
specific policy. Several years ago union leaders protested for wage increases outside a
board member’s fundraising event. Last year, they conducted a candle-lit vigil outside the
same board member’s home in response to proposed layoffs. During furlough day
negotiations, teachers rallied during a school board meeting.
Direct lobbying as a macropolitical strategy did not necessarily entail collective
action, however. The McKinley teachers’ union took out ads in the local newspaper, and
both union and district leaders wrote letters to the editor explaining their respective
positions to the public. Both sides also threatened a press conference to blame the other
for forcing students to lose instructional minutes, should no agreement be reached.

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Zero-Face Strategies of Strategic Accommodation
Strategic accommodation is the final dimension of political action. A number of
these actions are shown in Table 4.5. As the table illustrates, the use of zero-face
strategies was quite different between the two cases. In Rainier, the board-union and
administrator-union relationships were marked with strategic accommodation, while
board-administrator interactions were not. The opposite was true in McKinley: board
members and administrators frequently used strategic accommodation, with board
members more often conceding to administrators than vice versa. Neither engaged in
zero-face strategies with the teachers’ union.

Board 
Admin
Board 
Union
Board 
Board
Admin 
Board
Admin 
Union
Union 
Board
Union 
Admin
Zero Face Strategies: Strategic Accommodation (Goals: Collaborate, Share, Compromise, Bargain)
Collaborative structures: formalize joint committees for sharing
responsibility/accountability/information

 R R
Collaborative norms: emphasize common goal       
Collaborative norms: acknowledge adversity, agree to disagree R R R R
Collaborative norms: make requests when could make demands M R R R R
Collaborative norms: ask for advice, value other as expert M R   R R
Collaborative norms: facilitate open communication, encourage
transparency, allow informal interactions
M R R
Collaborative norms : discourage personal alliances/favoritism       
Shared resources: voluntary information exchange M M R R R
Shared resources: invite others to participate without requirement R R R
Shared resources: allow discretion, grant autonomy M R R R
Compromise: trade expensive demand for inexpensive one R    R 
Bargain: trade support or concession now for future action R  R R R
Table 4.5. Zero-face strategies available to board members, administrators, and unions.

Overall, I rarely observed zero-face strategies in McKinley Unified. The
interactions among district actors over the selection of A+, the furlough day negotiations,
and the bulk of other district decisions were predicated on conflict. When the district and
the union came to an agreement over furlough days, they did so not by using zero-face

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strategies but rather because of changing external conditions – namely, unanticipated
federal funds. The only zero-face strategies I saw in McKinley were between the board
and the administrators, allowing them to create a united, centralized power structure;
there were few, if any, zero-face strategies used between district and union leaders.
In Rainier Unified, however, strategic accommodation between district and union
leaders was common practice. While each acknowledged that some of their interests
conflicted, “we’ve worked hard to get rid of the adversarial roles,” said a long-time
cabinet member. Board members saw their role not as authorities but as facilitators. “My
leadership style over the years has been one of consensus-building, coalition-building,
…respecting people’s opinion and getting people’s input,” said a Rainier board member
and several-time board president. “Obviously, there’s tough decisions you have to make,
but it’s easier to make them when you have heard the different spectrum of opinions.” He
continued that this has contributed to his success in passing board policies: “If you don’t
get buy-in from the people in the institution itself, it is going to be more difficult to get
support [on an issue]. …But when you have issues that everyone agrees with it is just so
much easier to move as a united organization.”
This is not to say, however, that actors in Rainier were not self-interested. During
school board meetings, union leaders were very careful to appear assertive yet
deferential. “If you yell at the school board every single time, that doesn’t help,” said a
union leader. “Some issues, you don’t want to bring up. You want to make sure that when
you make a statement to the board you do it for a reason. It’s not just an open
conversation. It’s their meeting, it’s not our meeting. This is all strategic.” Another RTA

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leader stressed that the union for years has deliberately avoiding antagonizing district
leadership with collective action. “You have to have a seat at the table,” she
acknowledged. “You’re not gonna win every battle but you have to win the important
ones. If you get a seat at the table, I think that takes care of a lot of things.” A Rainier
school board member confirmed this assessment: “Ultimately RTA knows that there will
be mandatory cuts, and they’d rather have a say-so on how those cuts are gonna be
made.”
In McKinley Unified, there was no accommodation, strategic or otherwise.
District administrators and board members saw union leaders as agitators. “It’s just an
expectation of resistance,” said a board member. “The union is powerful in blocking
efforts, and at making life difficult when could be easier in a hard [economic] time.”
The use of zero-face strategies was one of the largest disparities in decision-
making processes between McKinley and Rainier. Other differences were apparent in
resource distribution, strategy choice, and decision outcomes. In Rainier, the teachers’
union had an advantage in nearly every type of resource, including many that were
context-dependent. Union leaders rarely used first- and second-face power strategies, and
when they did those strategies were almost always micropolitical. On the rare occasion
that union leaders used a macropolitical strategy, they were able to influence board
member behavior with electoral politics even during an uncontested election.
The comparison to McKinley Unified is stark. The teachers’ union had very few
context-dependent resources and was at a comparative disadvantage to other actors in
every type of resource. The union frequently used first- and second-face power strategies,

169

and those strategies were often macropolitical. The outcomes of decision-making rarely
reflected union interests, and when they did it was not the result of union action. My final
research question asks how the environmental factors of institutional context,
organizational and community structures, public opinion, and personal traits accounted
for the similarities and differences in resources, processes, and outcomes presented in this
chapter. In Chapter 5, I answer this question.

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CHAPTER 5
Explaining Power Resources, Strategy Selection, and Decision-Making Outcomes

In the sociopolitical system of school district decision-making (Figure 2.1), actors
use power resources and strategies because they want to influence the outcomes of the
system: board policies, collective bargaining agreements, and administrator actions. Each
actor, motivated by the mandates of their job, the demands of students, parents,
employees, and community members, and their personal and political interests, leverages
their available resources to affect the behavior of others within that system. With my first
two research questions, I described the power resources and strategies available to
district actors. As described in Chapter 4, power was distributed very differently in
McKinley than it was in Rainier. The data suggested that environmental factors explained
a considerable amount of the variation between the two districts. In this chapter, I present
an explanatory argument for how environmental factors – institutional context,
organizational and community structure, public opinion, and personal traits – affected
resource distribution, strategy selection, and strategy success in these two cases. First, I
apply the lens of Figure 2.1 to McKinley and Rainier, briefly describing sociopolitical
decision-making in each district and outlining the environmental factors that affected
actors’ resources, strategies, and outcomes.
Environmental Factors in McKinley and Rainier Unified
In Chapter 2, I described how political and organizational theories posit (and
empirical research agrees) that political systems are embedded in institutional
environments which affect the way that actors make demands on the system, and the way
the system responds to those demands. The data from my two case study districts support

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the hypotheses that context affects decision-making outcomes: each district had markedly
different institutional environments, and actors and direct observation confirmed that the
environment did have an effect on outcomes. Table 5.1 summarizes a number of
environmental factors in each district that the study participants regarded as important; I
corroborated their reports with the analyses of observational data and documents.

McKinley Rainier

Institutional Context
Location and
Demographics
a

Mixed urban/suburban, white-collar
Average home value, home ownership rate, and
median income higher than county avg
Racially heterogeneous
More registered Republican voters than state avg
Higher educational attainment than state average
Little overlap among parents, teachers/district
employees, and voters
Urban, blue-collar
Average home value, home ownership rate, and
median income lower than county avg
Racially homogeneous
More registered Democrat voters than state avg
Lower educational attainment than state average
High degree of overlap among parents, teachers,
and voters
Leaders &
Teachers
Board composition: 4 endorsed, 1 not endorsed
by teachers’ union
Average term, current school board: 6.5 yrs
Average time in district, current admins: 4.5 yrs
b

Average time in district, teachers: 12.75 yrs
c

Board composition: all 5 members endorsed by
teachers’ union
Average term, current school board: 13 yrs
Average time in district, current admins: 22 yrs
b

Average time in district, teachers: 15.5 yrs
c

Student
Scores
d

Test scores above state average
Scores show slight but steady improvement
Scores comparable to districts with similar
demographics
Test scores below state average
Scores show consistent and major improvement
Scores far higher than districts with similar
demographics

Organizational Structure
Structures
& Practices
Centralized, top-down hierarchy
Union involvement based on requirement
Limited standing committee meetings between
administrators and union
No standardized protocols for union involvement
Horizontal, bottom-up arrangements
Union involvement based on necessity/mutual
benefit
Regular meetings between administrators and
union
Assumed Roles
and Norms
Board: set overall goals, support superintendent
Superintendent: drive policy design and
implementation
Administrators: operations, support
superintendent
Union: protect members from district
Board: set specific goals, respond to community
Superintendent: respond to board demands;
management and operations
Administrators: management and operations
Union: broker communication between district
and teachers
Table 5.1. Environmental factors in McKinley and Rainier Unified.
Data sources (unless otherwise specified): participant interviews, observations, and document review
a
From US Census, www.city-data.com, and public records from the city clerk offices. City boundaries
are roughly, but not exactly, concurrent with district boundaries.
b
Current administrator tenure is an average of total time in any central office administrative position, not
necessarily the person’s current position.
c
Leader data from interviews; teacher data from public employment records (CA Dept. of Education)
d
Data from CA Department of Education, US National Center on Education Statistics

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McKinley Rainier

Community Structure and Public Opinion
Community
Structure
Factional/neocorporate. Board members are
affiliated with a few powerful community
groups, and tend to represent those groups
during discussion.
Several groups (PTA and MEF) are invited into
decision-making by district leaders.
District is inert. All of the candidates were
endorsed by the union. No other interest groups
compete with the union for district power.
City is pluralist. Board members are from
established political families or organizations.
Community power is contested and fluid.
Image and Public
Opinion
District has maintained arts, music, language, and
health programs when other districts have not.
- Constituents characterize public education as
ineffective and mired in politics.
+ Constituents like the schools and see board
members and administrators as effective…
- but the public sees and disapproves of fighting
among district leaders and teachers.
- Constituents see the union as petty and political,
but are generally pro-teacher.
District has not issued pink slips to teachers in
decades and is currently hiring.
- Constituents characterize public education as
ineffective, but see Rainier as an exception.
+ Constituents see board members and
administrators as effective…
- as long as they are responsive and maintain
solvency.
+ Constituents see the union as important,
productive community members.
Elections
Highly contested, many viable candidates
Multiple groups recruit and endorse candidates;
union-endorsed candidates occasionally win
Frequent incumbent turnover
Low conflict, few viable candidates
Union is the primary recruiter/endorser of
candidates; union-endorsed incumbent
candidate usually win
Little incumbent turnover

Personal Traits
Valued,
Trusted
Expertise, professional reputation
Neutrality, logic, rationality
Honesty, directness, follow-through
Ties to organized groups, volunteerism
Experience, service to the district, respect of
colleagues
Altruism, dedication, teamwork
Candidness, personal integrity and ethics
Dedication to community and family
Avoided,
Mistrusted
Emotional responses, rash action
Overt politics, single-issue candidates
Alliances with teachers’ union
Militancy, combative behavior
Entrenched insiders reluctant to challenge status
quo
Depersonalized responses, acting on data alone
Aspirations for higher office, egotism, posturing,
self-promotion
Alliances with political elites, pet projects
Rocking the boat, subverting well-liked norms
Impulsive outsiders who question customs
Table 5.1 Continued. Environmental factors in McKinley and Rainier Unified.

Just as resource distribution and strategy use differed between the two districts, a
side-by-side comparison shows a wide variation in a number of environmental factors.
On the whole, McKinley residents were affluent, well-educated, and ideologically
conservative; the median income, home value, home ownership rate, percentage of adults
who are college graduates, and percentage of voters registered as Republicans were all
well above the state average. The community had a fairly positive view of the McKinley

173

school board and administrators. Students were high-achieving, and the district offered a
number of popular programs that other districts had cut. Voters were not traditionally
pro-labor, nor were they particularly supportive of their local teachers’ union.
McKinley had a union-excluded neocorporate community structure. Not only did
the community have a number of well-established organized groups, but two of them –
the PTA and the MEF – were closely associated with McKinley Unified. The PTA had an
office inside McKinley’s district headquarters, and PTA representatives were invited to
the monthly meeting of the superintendent, cabinet members, and employee unions.
Although the PTA is defined as representing both parents and teachers, “we joke that it’s
not PTA anymore,” said a UTM leader. “There was a T in there for teachers. But now,
you could say it’s ‘PBA’ for school board. We’ve been sort of eliminated.” Another UTM
leader explained how the behavior of district leaders demonstrated the union-excluded
neocorporate structure: “They doesn’t care what the teachers say. They only care what
the parents say.”
The district’s organizational structure was hierarchical and centralized around the
board and superintendent, with no formal mechanisms or norms of union inclusion. The
superintendent and cabinet members, trusted by the board for their expertise and
professional reputations, were the primary drivers of policy design. Administrators were
reluctant to invite union leaders to participate in decision-making because of a history of
mistrust between the district and union, and district leaders valued neutrality – they did
not respond well to individuals they perceived to be associated with UTM or who favored
emotional responses and militant action as UTM leaders did. Further, the community

174

disdained district-union conflict; given UTM’s past use of disruptive macropolitical
tactics such as marches, rallies, and media appeals, administrators found that the best way
to avoid conflict was to make unilateral decisions and inform the union afterwards.
Resources in McKinley Unified were distributed asymmetrically among actors.
unequal, the superintendent and administrators had a comparative resource advantage
over both the board and the union. In the case of the former, the advantage was voluntary
– the board ceded much of its positional resources to administrators, giving them an
advantage in both knowledge and positional resources. The United Teachers of McKinley
did what it could to change the balance of power, but to little avail. It was located outside
of the legitimate political system and could only make demands on district leaders from
that position; instead, the PTA took its place. The union was unpopular in the district and
the community, and although it had financial and social resources district leaders did not
value them. Further, McKinley had no institutionalized practices for union inclusion. As
a result, UTM’s positional resources were limited to access to negotiations and decision-
making outcomes rarely favored the union. District leaders chose the Achievement Plus
program with little union input. McKinley leaders did not attribute the union-favorable
furlough day agreement to any of the union’s political strategies.
Other than size and urbanicity, Rainier Unified had little in common with
McKinley. Residents were pro-labor and held a high opinion of the district’s leaders and
its teachers. There was a significant amount of overlap among parents, teachers, and
voters. Rainier Unified had a union-dominated inert community structure – all of the
school board members were union-supported, residents shared the same broad interests

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and values as the union, and there were no other organized groups. The district’s union-
friendly institutional context and horizontal organizational structure were conducive to
union involvement in decision-making, and the school board, largely focused on
micromanaging administrators and garnering community support, encouraged union
inclusion. With its substantial knowledge and social resources, the union enjoyed a
prominent position within the legitimate education governance system in Rainier. Union
leaders also embodied many of the personal traits valued by district leaders – they had
long histories with the district and strong ties to the community, and demonstrated much
of the same passion, altruism, and commitment to teamwork as the board members and
administrators did.
The distribution of power in Rainier was also quite different from that in
McKinley. Because of norms of joint decision-making, administrators shared their
knowledge and positional resources rather than hoarding them. Administrators also spent
valuable time placating the micromanaging board members, which weakened both in
comparison to the Rainier Teachers’ Association. Further, unlike in McKinley the
union’s material and social resources were highly sought-after by district leaders, who
were very responsive to union, and community, demands. As a result, the RTA was
internal to the legitimate political system, participating in the decision-making processes
that led not only to collective bargaining agreements but to board policies and
administrator actions as well.
Decision-making outcomes reflected RTA’s strength. The union quietly protected
its interests without any hint of militancy, and its efforts were well-received by district

176

leaders, employees, and community members. For example, union leaders revitalized the
Rainier Financial Oversight Committee via subtle micropolitical pressure and informal
communication with district allies. When the union used political power to affect the
superintendent search, it acted macropolitically, but privately; it sent a message to board
members by withholding its endorsement, not by rallying at a school board meeting.
Clearly then, the environmental factors, distribution of power, preferred influence
strategies, and decision-making outcomes were significantly different between the two
districts. I combined these environmental factors with the data presented in Chapter 4 to
explore how environmental factors affected access to resources, selection of strategies,
and strategy success.
Research Question 3: Effects of Environmental Factors
How do environmental factors affect the resources to which actors have access, the
strategies that actors choose, and whether or not actors successfully leverage their
resources so that outcomes of decision-making reflect their interests?
Environmental Effects on Access to Resources
In Chapter 2, I presented that access to available power resources partially
depends on the institutional environment (Figure 2.1) and in Chapter 4, I showed that a
number of power resources I observed were in fact context-dependent, as there was a
high degree of variation in the distribution of resources in McKinley as compared to
Rainier (see Table 4.1). For example, I found that teachers’ union always had the
positional resource of mandated involvement in contract negotiations, but their access to
board policies and administrator actions depended on others inviting them. In turn,

177

environmental factors affected whether or not district leaders allowed for union
involvement in non-bargained decisions, which is a context-dependent resource. The
Rainier union had such access, while the union in McKinley did not.
After comparing the environmental factors between the two cases (Table 5.1) and
linking those to resource distribution (Table 4.1), I drew broad conclusions about how
environmental factors might affect that distribution in McKinley and Rainier. Table 5.2
shows those conclusions. Each cell describes the conditions under which the distribution
of a context-dependent resource shifted. For example, actors’ material resources changed
when the institutional context promoted the accumulation of assets or granted more
discretion over resource distribution, if the actor was a member of, or aligned with, an
influential person or group, if the public endorsed the actor, if the organization had
structures or norms for resource-sharing, if the actor was trusted, or if the actor already
had resources valued by others and is willing to trade. In McKinley, board members
benefitted from a wealthier community; they sought (and gained) the material resources
of well-funded interest groups like the McKinley Education Foundation. Because of this,
McKinley board members had a slight advantage over other actors in material resources,
whereas those in Rainier did not (see Table 4.1). There were no interest groups in
Rainier, and as such the environment did not provide board members with substantial
material resources. In that district, the context-dependent social resource of broad-based
community support was much more valuable to board members than any financial
resource that residents might give.

178

Because I did not catalog every possible available resource in Table 4.1, or every
potentially influential environmental factor in Table 5.1, I present only general guidelines
in Table 5.2 for the way that the environment influenced resource distribution in these
two districts.
In addition, during data analysis I found that while environmental factors
accounted for many of the observed patterns in access to resources, strategy selection,
and strategy success, the factors alone did not capture the simple fact that when an actor
held a comparative advantage in a resource that was valued by another, that actor was
more able to influence the behavior of others. To reflect this, I include the effects of the
current resource distribution on resource redistribution, strategy selection, and outcomes
in McKinley and Rainier in Table 5.2, as well as in Tables 5.3 and 5.4.
Resource distribution shifts if…
Material Knowledge Positional Social
Institutional
context
…context promotes
accumulation of
assets
n/a
…state or federal
law grants greater
authority/autonomy
…community
members are likely
to mobilize
Community
structure
…actor is a member of, or allied with, an influential, active, trusted external group
Public opinion
…public trusts and
endorses actors
…public informs
actors
…public favors
actor discretion or
involvement
…public becomes
involved in district
Organizational
structure
…structures and
norms facilitate
sharing/trading
…structures and
norms prioritize
transparency
…structures and
norms encourage
invitation and
participation
…structures and
norms support
communication
…and/or actor has influential in-district allies
Personal traits …actor is trusted, liked, and included
Current
resource
distribution
…actor has the comparative advantage in another valued resource and is willing to trade
Table 5.2. Effects of environmental factors on resource distribution in McKinley and Rainier.

In both McKinley and Rainier, positional resources were among the most
influential of the four types of available power resources. Without them, the UTM was

179

shut out of the legitimate political system (Figure 2.1) and decision-making was
dominated by the board, the superintendent, and the groups favored by McKinley’s
union-excluded neocorporate structure – the PTA and the MEF. Access was also the
resource over which there was the greatest disparity in distribution between the two
districts (Table 4.1).
Environmental factors played a large role in this disparity. In Rainier, six of seven
conditions described in the “positional” column in Table 5.2 favored an increase in
positional resources for the teachers’ union. Table 5.1 shows these conditions in Rainier:
The community structure was union-dominated inert, with the teachers’ union was allied
with (or in reality, the same as) the parents and voters to whom district leaders were
highly responsive. Public opinion favored teachers and unions in general, and the
community supported RTA’s efforts to work with the district as a partner. The district’s
organizational structure provided multiple channels for participation, including the
RFOC, regular meetings between RTA leaders and the superintendent, and numerous
avenues of informal communication. The union had a number of in-district allies who
could grant them access, as many Rainier administrators were former Rainier teachers
and RTA members themselves. Union leaders, especially the executive director, were
trusted and respected, which made district leaders more likely to respond to RTA’s
demands even if the union did not deliberately use a power strategy or if those demands
were unspoken. The union had social and knowledge resources, which were highly
valued by district leaders. These conditions fostered an environment in which board

180

members and administrators saw it in their organizational and personal best interests to
give positional resources to the union.
In McKinley, environmental factors motivated district leaders to keep their
positional resources to themselves (Table 5.1). The union had few allies inside the district
and little broad-based community support. Many community members preferred that the
union be excluded from decision-making. McKinley’s organizational structures and
norms facilitated centralized decision-making that included the union only when required
by law or contractual obligation. District leaders neither trusted nor respected UTM’s
leadership, and UTM’s financial and social resources were not valuable in a community
where many board candidates did not want to be endorsed by, or even associated with,
the union.
One caveat is that that the conditions listed in 5.2 did not necessarily create a
favorable distribution of resources, only a change in the existing distribution. In
McKinley, because of the competitive and antagonistic district-union relationship, if one
actor gained a resource another lost it. For example, when the UTM president gained
access to the district’s furlough day site visits because she was invited by site personnel,
the superintendent concurrently lost a positional resource – the right to exclude. The
conditions in Table 5.2 also do not require that one actor loses if another gains. The
organizational structures in Rainier that prioritized transparency resulted in an increase in
the knowledge resources of both administrators and union leaders.

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Environmental Effects on Strategy Selection (Location)
Environmental factors affected not only resource distribution, but also the
strategies Rainier and McKinley actors chose to leverage their resources. The standard
model of political decision-making places board members and administrators internal to
the legitimate political system (Figure 2.1), implying that they favor micropolitical
action. Likewise, teachers’ unions are generally considered interest groups that use
primarily macropolitical strategies to leverage their material and social resources from
outside of the legitimate system.
The broad conclusion from my analyses is that the internal/external location of the
actors in these two districts was far from absolute. Some conditions promoted the use of
micropolitical actions by board members, administrators, and union leaders. In Rainier
Unified, board members and the teachers’ union frequently acted outside of their
traditional macropolitical location. Although both are conventionally deemed
macropolitical – board members because they are politicians, and unions because they are
interest groups – in Rainier they frequently opted for micropolitical strategies. Board
members micromanaged administrators and each other; union leaders used quiet
influence to leverage their internal social resources without public action.
A very different set of conditions encouraged actors to choose macropolitical
strategies. Such strategies were used not only by union leaders and board members but,
most notably in McKinley, administrators as well. The McKinley superintendent
frequently turned to the public for support, seeking material resources from external
groups, encouragement from the voters, and allegiance from the rank-and-file teachers; to

182

do this, he used macropolitical strategies more traditionally associated with politicians
and union leaders.
Table 5.3 illustrates the observed relationship between environmental factors and
the location of the strategies chosen by actors in McKinley and Rainier. The first two
columns of Table 5.3 represent the school board. The left side describes under what
conditions – both environmental factors and resource distribution – board members were
more likely to select micropolitical strategies. The right side describes the conditions
under which they were more likely to choose a macropolitical strategy. The table layout
is repeated for administrators and union leaders. Despite the fact actors in the two
districts chose markedly different strategies from one another (for example, the RTA
frequently used micropolitical strategies while the UTM acted macropolitically), I found
that the general rules shown in Table 5.3 applied to the motivation behind actors’ strategy
choice in both districts.

183
BOARD MEMBERS more likely to use ADMINISTRATORS more likely to use UNION LEADERS more likely to use
micro action if: macro action if: micro action if: macro action if: micro action if: macro action if:
Inst.
Context
Racially homogeneous
Teachers make up the
voting majority
Racially heterogeneous
High quality of life
No clear voter majority
Uncertain finances
Long-serving leaders
Leaders hired from
within
Stable finances
Short-term leaders
Leaders hired
externally
History of spending on
teachers
Long-term leaders
History of spending on
programs
Short-term leaders
Commnty
Strctre
a

Inert
Factional
Factional/neocorporate
Pluralist
Factional/neocorporate
Pluralist
Factional/neocorporate
Union-dominated inert
Union-invited
neocorporate
Union-included
factional
Union-excluded
factional or
neocorporate
Pluralist
Public
Opinion
Elections are
uncompetitive
Public is satisfied with
district leaders and
public education
Elections are
competitive: many
candidates, many
endorsements, high
incumbent turnover
Dissatisfied with
district, mistrust
leaders
Satisfied with district,
trust leaders
Pro-union Anti-union
Org.
Strctre
Top-down
Board as
micromanagers
Bottom-up
Board as community
voice
Administrators design
policy
Administrators
implement policy
Horizontal
Union solves problems
Norms for inclusion
Centralized
Union protects
members
Norms of exclusion
Personal
Traits
Mistrustful of
administrators, other
board members, and
union
Trusted and respected
by other actors
Political behavior
tolerated/encouraged
Trusted and respected
by the board
Mistrustful of board
and union
Trusted and respected
by the public
Political behavior
tolerated/encouraged
Trusted and respected
by district leaders
Political behavior
tolerated/encouraged
Trusted and respected
by the public
Political behavior
tolerated/encouraged
Current
Resources
Knowledge
Social (internal allies)
Material
Social (external allies)
Knowledge
Positional
Social (internal allies)
Social (external allies)
Knowledge
Positional
Social (internal allies)
Material
Social (external allies)
Table 5.3. Effects of environmental context and resource distribution on strategy location in McKinley and Rainier.
a
Only union-excluded neocorporate (McKinley) and a union-dominated inert (Rainier) community structures were represented by the two
cases. However, I asked informants about hypothetical situations and conclusions can be drawn about other types of community structures
based on their responses. These conclusions are shown in the community structure row of this table; see Notes 29 and 30 in the text that follows
as well.

184

Community structure and public opinion in McKinley Unified persuaded district
leaders, both board members and administrators, to choose macropolitical strategies
(Tables 4.3 and 4.4). In McKinley, elections were competitive and incumbent turnover
was frequent (Table 5.1) and board members behaved as if they believed their positions
were at risk. Parents and voters demanded high-quality instructional programs, and
because of state funding cuts, the sitting board members sought the financial resources of
the handful of local interest groups in McKinley’s neocorporate community. These
groups also each represented a portion of McKinley’s racially heterogeneous population,
and board members could not keep their position if these groups did not mobilize their
social resources to vote.
29
Board members actively sought the support of powerful and
resource-rich community groups – the PTA and the MEF – by making decisions that
reflected the goals of those groups. These two groups represented the parents (PTA), the
local business community (MEF), and active, affluent community members and property
owners (MEF). As such, the groups demanded high-quality instructional programs that
would help students get into competitive universities and provide them with skills desired
by potential employers like technology and foreign language proficiency (PTA) and
would make the schools and therefore the community attractive to affluent residents and
businesses (MEF). When board members prioritized spending on programs and
operations rather than teacher salaries when asking the union to take furlough days, and
avoided negative public opinion largely by quieting dissenting voices while A+ was

29
Theory and empirical research also argues that a pluralist community structure encourages board
members to act macropolitically and publically prioritize constituent demands over superintendent
recommendations and employee requests (Greene, 1992; Iannaccone & Lutz, 1970; Prewitt, 1970). While
neither district in this study was pluralist, informants’ responses to questions about community structure
were consistent with this finding.

185

chosen, they were reflecting the interests of those groups. In addition, most board
members distanced themselves from the unpopular union, and shunned the single union-
endorsed school board member.
The McKinley superintendent and cabinet members also selected macropolitical
strategies, a finding that challenges the presumption that administrators avoid external
politics. Interviews and observations conformed that public opinion was a significant
motivator of their behavior. Even though student achievement was high and the district
maintained programs outside of the standard core curricula, many years of district-union
animosity cast a negative pall on McKinley leaders. “The community sees [us clashing],”
said the superintendent. “It doesn’t help me as a district, it doesn’t help the teachers. [The
community] is like, ‘you guys don’t even have your own house in order.’”
Because they were highly motivated to keep the public satisfied, McKinley’s
administrators chose many of the same macropolitical strategies as the school board
members did. They aligned themselves with McKinley’s neocorporate factions and
publically distanced themselves from the oppositional union and its leaders. Driven by
environmental factors, particularly by an organizational structure which allowed them a
large amount of discretion in policy design, administrators also leveraged their advantage
in positional and knowledge resources through a variety of third-face micropolitical
strategies (Table 4.4): minimizing or downplaying conflict, encouraging cooperation
from dissenters to protect the image of public education, or, according to the UTM union
president, covering its mistakes.

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Rainier leaders, in contrast, tended to choose micropolitical strategies exclusively.
Rainier Unified had a union-dominated inert community structure, and board members
did not trust that district administrators would respond to community demands in a way
that would satisfy the parents and teachers (Table 5.1). Rather than trying to curry favors
with a union who had already endorsed them, board members needed the union’s social
resources to protect their future positions as local leaders or state politicians. As such,
board members opted for micropolitical strategies such as micromanagement of
administrators to protect the interests of the students, the constituents or elites whom they
represent, and themselves. As a Rainier board member confirmed, “We have board
members that want to give directives [to administrators] without consensus or discussion
with the rest of the board members. Flex their muscles I call it... They’re politically self-
promoting.” Like the external actions of McKinley administrators, the internal location of
Rainier’s union did not fit with the traditional model of decision-making in school
districts (Figure 2.1).
Discretion versus (perceived) necessity. An interesting result of data analysis
was the difference between strategy choice and necessity. Some actors related that their
strategy choices were tactical, calculated to obtain the best possible result: successfully
influencing the other without reducing their chances of future strategy success. Others
reported that they acted not out of choice but out of necessity. They knew that their
strategies were unlikely to work and/or would decrease the likelihood that their strategies
would work in the future. However, they believed that the district’s resource distribution

187

and environment gave them few options. If the resources and environment were different,
they said that they would use different strategies.
In the two districts, board members and administrators most frequently
demonstrated strategy choice. Although district leaders in McKinley generally favored
macropolitical strategies while leaders in Rainier preferred micropolitical ones, as a part
of the legitimate political system board members and superintendents had positional
resources that permitted them to act internally or externally at their discretion. While
environmental factors influenced their choice of strategy location, their positional
resources meant that board members and superintendents limited themselves to micro- or
macropolitical actions largely by their own strategic choices.
I did not find the same to be true for teachers’ union leaders. For the unions,
environmental factors and the distribution of resources were much more deterministic.
Unions had context-independent access to only one type of decision-making outcome:
collective bargaining agreements. Union leaders could participate in, and potentially
influence, board policies and administrator actions only if they had the necessary context-
dependent positional resources. The Rainier Teachers’ Association had the required
resources, and was able to act micropolitically. If other actors do not grant unions
positional resources, they must act as an external interest group. This was the case in
McKinley; the United Teachers of McKinley acted macropolitically not because it
wanted to, but because it had limited options.
The Rainier union had the positional resources it needed to act micropolitically
for two reasons. First, as I argued above the environmental conditions in Rainier favored

188

union inclusion. Second, the RTA had a comparative advantage in highly-valued social
and knowledge resources, and was able to leverage these resources for district leaders’
positional ones (Table 4.1). The RTA did not need to risk its reputation with the public
and losing trust of district leaders by resorting to macropolitical actions like rallies or
marches that could be construed as hostile. Instead, union leaders opted for micropolitical
action even though the macropolitical strategies of collective action were available. Like
board members and administrators, the Rainier union was able to make strategic choices.
Conversely, there were a number of factors that forced the United Teachers of
McKinley to use macropolitical actions. The union was already at a comparative
disadvantage in knowledge and positional resources (Table 4.1), and the McKinley
environment did not favor resource redistribution, so the externally-located union had
few micropolitical strategies available to it. The McKinley union acted as an interest
group rather than an internal participant, not out of strategic choice but rather out of
necessity – the district environment constrained its strategy options to macropolitical
ones.
30

Environmental Effects on Strategy Selection (Dimension and Goal)
Environmental factors and the existing resource distribution affected not only the
location of the strategies chosen by McKinley and Rainier actors, but also strategy goal

30
There is a potential exception to the generalization that unions act internally when they can and
externally out of necessity. Hypothetically, if a district has a pluralist community structure where power is
contested and fluid among multiple interest groups, then a union may choose macropolitical action even if
it has micropolitical strategies available to it. If the union does not use macropolitics, it might lose the
competition for power and the district would be more responsive to the demands of other groups. In this
situation, a more apt generalization would be that certain environmental factors constrain union options,
while other conditions allow them to choose strategically from among strategies of different locations.
Since neither of the districts in this study had a pluralist structure, there are not sufficient data to support
this conclusion. However, informants’ responses suggested that the conclusion about pluralist communities
would be true if their district was actually pluralist.

189

and dimension. My findings support the conclusions of the substantial literature on
organizational conflict: organizations have more internal conflict when they are
embedded in chaotic external environments (Bjork & Gurley, 2005; Boyd, 1976;
Danzberger, 1994; Greene, 1992; Grissom, 2010; Petersen & Fusarelli, 2001; Petersen &
Fusarelli, 2008; Zeigler, et al., 1974). To this conclusion, I add that internal conflict may
be reduced even when organizations are faced with external chaos if actors opt for
strategies to accommodate, rather than conflict, with each other as they did in Rainier.
In order to foster zero-face strategies, however, environmental factors must
support resource redistribution. The environmental factors that encourage resource
redistribution are addressed in Table 5.2 and the section that follows it. In McKinley, the
district environment favored an ossification of the existing comparative advantages in
resources rather than resource redistribution. Actors envisioned one another as
competitors, not partners. Because their interests were in conflict, they did not see zero-
face strategies as available options, and instead selected strategies to dominate, constrain,
and manipulate their opponents (Tables 4.2-4.4). Decision-making in Rainier showed that
different environmental factors can expand actors’ strategy options to include strategic
accommodation. Because conditions allowed for resource redistribution and sharing,
Rainier actors could instead choose zero-face activities to collaborate, accommodate,
compromise, bargain, and share (Table 4.5). In most cases, both the district and the union
selected zero-face actions even when coercive strategies were available. This finding is
similar to the discussion at the close of the previous section, that some conditions permit
actor discretion when choosing strategy location while others lead actors to act from

190

perceived necessity. Here, I find that some conditions constrain actors’ choices to
strategies of a particular dimension, while others allow actors to choose from among
strategies of different dimensions.
A caveat, however, is that in order to encourage zero-face strategies, resources
must not only be redistributed, but equalized as well. As argued earlier, some
environmental factors solidify existing resource imbalances; in McKinley, for example,
the organizational structure increased the positional advantage of district leaders. When
environmental factors reinforce or exacerbate resource inequality, actors will compete
with one another and use strategies of conflict and domination. When environmental
factors mitigate inequality and actors are no longer forced to vie for resources against one
another, they are more likely to cooperate. This was the case in Rainier.
District and union leaders in both districts agreed on one other requirement, in
addition to an environment that encourages resource equalization, for strategic
accommodation: the actor with the comparative power advantage must be the first to use
zero-face actions. During the initial stages of the furlough day negotiations in McKinley,
union leaders did not attempt to cooperate or collaborate because they were afraid that
voluntarily ceding their valuable (and scarce) resources would leave them even more
vulnerable to exclusion. Personal traits were a particularly large impediment to zero-face
strategies – union leaders did not have any personal characteristics that the district
respected, and district leaders did not have any traits which the union trusted. In Rainier,
each actor was trusted and respected by one another. Decades of joint accountability and
reciprocity created an environment where comparatively disadvantaged actors trusted that

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the advantaged groups would give up or exchange their power resources. When Rainier
administrators reinstated the RFOC, they were already at a comparative disadvantage to
the union in social and knowledge resources. But the administrators trusted that by
increasing the union’s access to decision-making, the union would be more open to
sharing those social and knowledge resources with the district.
Environmental Effects on Strategy Success
Whether they are internal or external to the legitimate political system, individuals
and groups use a variety of resources and strategies to affect the outcomes of decision-
making (Figure 2.1). Throughout this work, I have argued that the likelihood an actor
successfully influencing those outcomes depends on three general conditions: whether
they have a comparative advantage in valued power resources, whether they have the
capacity and desire to strategically leverage those resources, and whether the opposing
actor is motivated to react. Each of these three conditions is related to environmental
factors. So far, I illustrated the resources available to actors in McKinley and Rainier, and
reasoned how environmental factors affected resource distribution. I also described the
strategies that actors used to leverage those resources, and argued how environmental
factors influenced strategy choice. Here, I present my findings on how environmental
factors affected actors’ reactions to the resources and strategies of others, and why some
resources and strategies influenced the outcomes of decision-making while others did not.
Table 5.4 lists a number of specific conditions that contributed to strategy success
in McKinley and Rainier. Like Table 5.3 earlier, while the actors did not behave similarly
in the two districts, the conditions that motivated their behavior applied to actors in both

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BOARD MEMBER likelihood of success will ADMINISTRATOR likelihood of success will UNION LEADER likelihood of success will
increase if: decrease if: increase if: decrease if: increase if: decrease if:
Institutional Context
Low community
educational attainment
Homogeneous
community

High community
educational attainment
Teachers as parents as
voters
Heterogeneous
community

Stable finances
High/improving
student achievement
(especially if better
than similar districts)
High SES
Strict external
mandates
Uncertain or limited
finances
Student achievement
same/worse than
similar districts
Low SES
Liberal, Democrat, pro-
union
Low teacher mobility
Teachers as parents as
voters
History of trust,
collaboration,
quiet/private action
Student achievement
better than similar
districts
Conservative,
Republican, anti-
union
History of mistrust,
militancy, public
action
District has high-
interest programs
Student achievement
same/worse than
similar districts
Cmty. Strr.
a

Pluralist
Majority-aligned
factional/neocorporate
Non-majority-aligned
factional/neocorporate
Dominated
Inert
Inert
Pluralist
Factional/neocorporate
Dominated
Union-dominated inert
Pluralist
Union-excluded inert
Union-excluded
factional/
neocorporate
Dominated
Pub. Op’n
Satisfied with public
education, district
Low incumbent
turnover
Dissatisfied with public
education, district
High incumbent
turnover
Satisfied with public
education, district
Low incumbent
turnover
Dissatisfied with public
education, district
High incumbent
turnover
Positive view of union
and teachers
High incumbent
turnover
Negative/neutral view
of union and teachers
Low incumbent
turnover
Org. Structure
Board unanimity
established in private,
encouraged in public
Board dissents in
public
Administrators
manage/placate single-
issue board members
Administrators
proactively design
policy
Board, union rely on
administrators for
information
Administrators
reactively implement
policy
Board micromanages
administrators
Horizontal, structures
for inclusion
Teachers as
professional experts
Unified rank-and-file
Access to information
and decision-makers
Able to be proactive
Centralized, no
structures for
inclusion
Divided rank-and-file
No access to
information and
decision-makers
Forced to be reactive
Traits
Trusted, liked, included
Doubted, unpopular,
marginalized
Trusted, liked, included
Doubted, unpopular,
marginalized
Trusted, liked, included
Doubted, unpopular,
marginalized
Rsrcs
Comparative advantage
in valuable resources
Comparative
disadvantage in
valuable resources
Comparative advantage
in valuable resources
Comparative
disadvantage in
valuable resources
Comparative advantage
in valuable resources
Comparative
disadvantage in
valuable resources
Table 5.4. Effects of environmental factors and resource distribution on strategy success in McKinley and Rainier.
a
See note in Table 5.3 regarding community structures other than union-dominated inert and union-excluded neocorporate.
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cases. The conditions in Table 5.4 are most suitably applied to second- and third-face
strategies, because the relationship between first-face strategies and successful outcomes
is fairly straightforward: the more official authority an actor has over another, the more
successful that actor will be in protecting his or her own interests regardless of the
preferences of the dominated actor. I do not include zero-face strategies here since they
are, by definition, successful in protecting actors’ interests because those interests are
shared; I described the environmental conditions which might facilitate zero-face
strategies in the section above.
Interviews and observations created an extremely nuanced field in which different
conditions interacted to affect strategy success. Each of the factors in Table 5.4 was on its
own was not deterministic – for example, informants in Rainier agreed that incumbent
turnover should increase the power of a union because competitive elections would allow
the union to compete with other groups for the board majority. However, because the
district was already union-dominated inert, low incumbent turnover rather than high
increased union strategy success because it made it unlikely that a union-endorsed
candidate would not be elected. In that district, community structure and public opinion
confounded the effects of the other.
Because of these confounding effects, in the discussion that follows I do not
address specific conditions individually. Rather, I combine some of the environmental
factors described in Table 5.4 to construct four general states that decreased the
likelihood of strategy success in the case study districts: community constraint

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(devaluation of existing resources), systemic exclusion (limited access to the resource
exchange marketplace), external uncertainty (depletion or elimination of local resources
by outside forces), and internal conflict (resources are frozen by disagreement before they
can be used).
The first environmental state that reduced the likelihood of strategy success for
district actors was community constraint. Under conditions of community constraint,
factors external to the legitimate political system motivate (or force) actors to make
certain decisions. Conditions of community constraint also devalue actors’ existing
resources, especially those which are contextually-independent; for example, while
unions always have financial resources from dues which they might to donate to political
candidates, community constraint can devalue the union’s financial resources in a
particular district because candidates may not want to be seen as aligned with the union.
The environmental factors that created a state of community constraint were the same in
both districts: negative public opinion, a closed community structure, unfavorable
demographics, and restrictive external policy mandates and funding requirements. While
these factors affected all district actors, the teachers’ union in McKinley was particularly
vulnerable to community constraint because of the environmental conditions in that
district (Table 5.1).
First, community demographics limited the union’s potential for success.
McKinley was conservative and Republican.
31
Demographics combined with public

31
The effects of socioeconomic status could not be determined using data from this study. Previous
research on the effects of SES has varied; some work has associated high SES with low community
conflict, which means that leaders are more likely to rely on the professional expertise of superintendents
and teachers (Adkison, 1982; Zeigler, et al., 1974), while other work did not find any relationship (Greene,

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opinion and community structure to constrain UTM. In addition, the union-excluded
neocorporate community structure permitted UTM constraint, and the anti-union public
opinion encouraged it. Past collective action gave the public a negative opinion of the
teachers’ union, which in turn meant that board members were unlikely to be sympathetic
toward union interests. District leaders felt no obligation to respond to union demands;
they believed union leaders did not represent the interests of the students, the voters, or
even the teachers, and did not fear repercussions from the public if they excluded UTM.
A McKinley board member explained how conditions for community constraint
decreased the union’s impact on the outcomes of decision-making. “The union is
relatively ineffective because all of us except for [our union-endorsed member] don’t
really care so much,” he described. “They don’t have a lot of public support, especially
after their candlelight vigil last year. I think they feel like that’s what you’re supposed to
do when you’re organized, but here it’s not very influential.” The McKinley
superintendent bluntly agreed, “Under the right circumstances,” he said, “they can
mobilize. But see, they’re stupid about what they choose to do.”
Very few conditions for community constraint of union action existed in Rainier
(Table 5.1). Demographics helped union leaders successfully influence decision-making
outcomes because conditions were such that district leaders, board members especially,
actively sought the union’s social and financial resources, and were willing to make

1992). Further, other variables associated with high SES, such as high educational attainment (Hess & Leal,
2005; C. N. Stone, et al., 2001) and higher proportions of conservative or Republican voters (Chubb &
Moe, 1990; Cibulka & Murphy, 1999) are also linked to more active communities with higher, not lower,
community conflict. While union strategies were less likely to work in McKinley, which has a high SES,
informants attributed it to resident’s conservative ideology, and explicitly disagreed that it was specifically
because of voter’s socioeconomic status.

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union-favorable decisions in trade for those resources. “A lot of people that are union
members live in this community, so they vote, they can do phone banking, they can
provide fiscal support if the union endorses candidates,” said the Rainier superintendent.
“Union members are also the voters here. They play a big role.” Further, many union
leaders had personal traits that made them appear trustworthy, which in turn motivated
district leaders to include them in decision-making, sometimes without the union even
having to ask.
Community constraint was related to the second state that decreased the
likelihood of strategy success: systemic exclusion. Under conditions of systemic
exclusion, actors internal to the legitimate political system limited or eliminated the
influence of others. When conditions prevented an actor from even entering the decision-
making arena, that actor could not successfully influence decision-making outcomes.
Factors for systemic exclusion included a centralized organizational structure, limited
access to decision-makers and information, an internally-unified political system,
alignment with a non-favored external group in a dominated, inert, or neocorporate
community, a history of militancy or public action, and personal traits which rendered an
actor unpopular or untrustworthy. Limited access to resources and restricted strategy
choices also created systemic exclusion – external actors could not increase their
positional resources if they did not have other resources that were valued by internal
actors and the means to trade those resources for access.
Environmental factors in McKinley fostered the systemic exclusion of UTM. The
administrator-driven organizational structure gave the union few opportunities for

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proactivity. For a limited number of issues, teacher (but not necessarily union)
involvement was required – the collective bargaining agreement provided for teacher-
district advisory committees on curriculum, benefits, grievances, and leave, and stated
that a teacher representative must be present during the interviews of principals and other
administrators. But on most decisions, central office staff only asked for teacher input
when they felt it was absolutely necessary, which in McKinley occurred not because
administrators valued teachers’ professional opinions, but because they wanted to avoid
conflict. One McKinley administrator confirmed these as the district’s criteria for union
inclusion. “It really is subjective,” he said. “We just kinda look and say, ‘Alright, what’s
the size and scope? How much is this going to change things district-wide?’ And if it’s
gonna be a large scale change, then yeah, we want a lot of input from all sectors. But we
don’t have a formula.”
Systemic exclusion did not apply only to teachers’ unions. In McKinley,
conditions for exclusion were such that the union-hostile board majority and
administrators excluded the single union-endorsed board member. Even though he was
technically a part of the legitimate political system, he had little impact on decision-
making outcomes. “He’s probably the least influential person of the five of us,” said a
McKinley board member. “[The other board members] just try to neutralize him as much
as they can,” a UTM leader agreed.
Because environmental conditions in McKinley systemically excluded the
teachers’ union, its strategies were unlikely to successfully affect the outcomes of
decision-making. Conditions in Rainier, however, favored systemic inclusion of the

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union, and therefore increased the likelihood of union success. The superintendent and
cabinet met with the union president and executive director every two weeks to “talk
shop,” exchange information, and solve problems. There were a number of formalized
union-district advisory committees provided for in the collective bargaining agreement,
including the RFOC and committees for benefits, calendar, class-size reduction, facilities,
leave, safety, and salary. In addition, employee associations were on the agenda of every
school board meeting, during which they could address the public and the board for as
long as necessary. “From years of experience, [administrators] know that the more people
you bring in, the smoother it goes,” said the union executive director. Furthermore,
informal communication among Rainier actors, through email or telephone calls, was
frequent and encouraged. “If I want to talk to the superintendent, I can talk with him right
now and vice versa,” said the union president. “If he needs something done and we can
accommodate, we do that and vice versa.”
These conditions for systemic inclusion greatly increased the likelihood that the
outcomes of decision-making reflected RTA interests. They also decreased the success of
anyone who goes against the norms of collaboration and communication. The RFOC
typified that district’s inclusive norms, so reinstating the committee was a more natural
outcome than continuing to limit its involvement. “Individuals that have come from other
districts that maybe don’t have the transparency we do, or don’t have the RFOC, don’t
have the same type of relationship with their own union, they get almost offended and
ask, ‘Why do we have to include them?’” related an RTA leader. “But they are not
familiar with the Rainier way. And they need to be told what the Rainier way is.”

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Discretion rather than perceived necessity over strategy selection played a
complementary role to environmental factors when creating conditions for systemic
exclusion. Limited strategy choice fixed the outsider status of the union in McKinley;
UTM leaders felt restricted to high-conflict macropolitical strategies, and when they used
those strategies district leaders were even less motivated than before to include UTM in
decision-making. In contrast, Rainier union leaders had a much wider array of potential
actions, and chose strategically from among them. The RFOC chairperson related that,
because the union used political action selectively, Rainier leaders were more responsive
to her requests for information and inclusion: “They hear me saying these things, and
they know that it’s a real issue, because I’m not running to the board once a day, once a
week or even once a month.”
Third, external uncertainty decreased the likelihood of strategy success,
especially by the two districts’ boards and superintendents, because it undermined the
credibility of district leaders. Conditions for external uncertainty included potential
changes in state funding, district enrollment patterns, student demographics, staffing
needs, standards and curriculum requirements, and state and federal laws. External
uncertainty was particularly damaging to McKinley leaders, who during furlough day
negotiations insisted that legal or financial constraints forced them to make a particular
decision. The district’s position eroded because they had originally based their budget on
financial projections on state funding cuts, not the cuts themselves. The projections were
dire, and district leaders insisted that they needed to keep the furlough days in order to
balance their budget. When McKinley received a federal rebate and administrators

200

determined that they could in fact afford to rescind the furlough days, not only were they
forced to concede the current negotiations, but they also gave the union reason to doubt
their trustworthiness in the future.
The effects of external uncertainty were similar to those of internal conflict, the
fourth condition that limits strategy success, because internal conflict likewise
undermined actor credibility. Board members, administrators, and union leaders in both
districts reported that internal unity (whether real or perceived) was a crucial condition
for the effective use of power for a number of reasons: it lowered the visibility and
viability of arguments against a decision, it reduced the likelihood that others will protest,
it increased the trust that people had in their leaders, and it excluded dissenting opinions.
If a group had internal conflict then access to its own power resources was limited and it
subsequently could not use those resources to influence others. When union leaders did
not have the backing of their members, their comparative advantage in knowledge and
social resources was reduced.
The conditions for internal unity varied by actor. First, intra-board unity required
an organizational structure that allowed for private arguments, plus norms of agreement
in public and full board support of resolutions and policies once they were passed. Intra-
board unity was present in both districts. In Rainier, it was so crucial to strategy success
for the board as a whole that some individual members sacrificed their own objectives for
the sake of internal unity. One board member reported of his colleagues that “the person
with the dissenting vote usually decides not to appear to always be the last guy out, for
the sake of image.”

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Second, intra-district unity occurred when internal actors had multiple in-district
allies and the opportunity to communicate with them. Unity among district leaders
increased strategy success by giving legitimacy to the information that administrators
presented to the board and the public, who in turn were less likely to question their
recommendations. Administrators in McKinley were closely aligned with each other and
believed that mutual support was the primary means to accomplish the district’s goals;
one cabinet member related that “if everybody in an organization is focused on making
their boss look good, then the organization runs well and successfully.” In McKinley,
intra-district unity allowed district administrators to select, and the board to approve, the
A+ program without internal dissention. During the furlough day negotiations, intra-
district unity increased the union’s perceived need to use macropolitical strategies,
despite the unfavorable reaction to such strategies by both the district and the public.
Finally, intra-union solidarity required that union leaders were cohesive among
themselves and had the full support of their members. This cohesion was not present in
McKinley: the membership divided over UTM leadership elections several years ago, and
many teachers were ambivalent at best towards the current UTM president. A UTM
leader described how this divided membership made district leaders less likely to respond
to union demands: “We tried to get members [to a rally]. Well, we got about 30 people to
come and [the superintendent] went out and he literally counted and then he laughed out
loud and walked in. And it was basically, ‘We can do whatever we want because not
enough members are going to show up.’” During the furlough day negotiations, the lack
of intra-union unity decreased the success of UTM’s strategies because district leaders

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saw UTM’s internal discord as another reason not to take union demands seriously. When
teachers wore red shirts to a school board meeting, the superintendent reported that the
action “had very little effect. We know who those teachers are. They are the 5% of our
teachers that are hardened UTMers…But we have 90% in the middle that ‘say leave me
alone and just run the district and don’t create headaches for me.’”
The Rainier Teachers’ Association had a high degree of internal unity, which
increased the success potential of its actions. Board members knew that they could not
turn one RTA leader against another. A Rainier union leader described that “[our
leadership team] has talked about that if you’re ever in a situation where a board member
is talking to you and the subject was uncomfortable, you tell them anything we’ve
discussed here will be discussed with my president. That’s a real important thing to do so
they don’t divide you.”
An important note is that two of the states that drastically decreased the likelihood of
union strategy success in McKinley – community constraint and systemic exclusion – are
very similar to the conditions that force unions to act macropolitically, described earlier
in this chapter. Given the outcomes of decision-making in Rainier reflected union
interests while those in McKinley generally did not (and when they did, it was despite the
efforts of district leaders), a broad conclusion is that the two unions were more likely to
influence district decision-making when they used proactive, micropolitical, and zero-
face strategies. I discuss this finding, and several other general conclusions drawn across
my research questions, in Chapter 6.

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CHAPTER 6
The Local Politics of Education Governance

The union is certainly powerful in affecting the conversation. They are powerful in
blocking efforts, in making life difficult that could be easier in a hard time. Everything is
a battle with them. Their ideology trumps all.
–School Board President, McKinley Unified School District

The district draws a line and says “this is what we want” and they don’t ever change it.
We try to work things out and they always say “no, this is what it has to be.” When they
have decided what they want, that’s it. There’s no changing their mind.
–President, United Teachers of McKinley

Where other districts are just falling apart—furlough days, laying off teachers, losing
benefits—we’re doing the opposite. It’s because we have a certain common denominator
and that is that we want to provide quality education. But because of all that good
negotiation, we’re an anomaly. We’re just a freak compared to other school districts.
–President, Rainier Teachers’ Association

School districts nationwide are facing a double-barreled challenge of potentially
catastrophic proportions. On one hand, they must meet federal and state demands for
student achievement or risk losing revenue, autonomy, and legitimacy. On the other, they
must educate their students, pay their employees, and keep their facilities running in the
face of debilitating funding cuts and rising operating costs. As school boards,
superintendents, and teachers’ unions make decisions on how to meet that challenge, they
negotiate among themselves to make sure that the outcomes of decision-making protect
their professional, organizational, and personal interests. Each makes demands of one
another, offering resources or making threats, against a background of environmental
factors that affects the board decisions, collective bargaining agreements, and
administrator actions that govern the district (Figure 2.1).
The quotes at the start of this chapter illustrate two very different approaches to
decision-making in the face of conflict. In McKinley Unified, actors used authoritative

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tactics to force or prevent action. District leaders made unilateral operational and
management decisions, and the union resisted any decision that threatened teacher job
security and the protections of their contract. Each chose strategies of direct authority
when they could, and when such strategies were unavailable or unsuccessful, actors used
high-conflict, high-visibility political action to manipulate one another until concession
became their opponent’s most appealing option. In that district, the struggle to access
decision-making and control its outcomes led to discord and domination. There was little
united effort to rally against the external constraints and uncertainties that hindered board
members, superintendents, and teachers.
District and union leaders in Rainier Unified found ways to minimize internal
antagonism and conflict. In these districts, decisions were negotiated rather than dictated.
Resources were shared rather than hoarded. Actors worked with one another to face
external challenges, not against each other in an internal, zero-sum political battle.
With this work, I used a theory-driven two-site case study to better understand
how school boards, superintendents and executive administrators, and teachers’ union
leaders strategically leverage their resources to influence decision-making. In Chapters 4
and 5, I answered my research questions directly. In this chapter, I synthesize the results
of my study into four main conclusions. I end with a discussion of the limitations of the
work, and implications and recommendations for research, policy, and practice.
General Conclusions and Discussion
With the answers to my research questions, I formed four general conclusions
about political decision-making in McKinley and Rainier: one each specifically about

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unions, boards, and superintendents, and one broad conclusion about power resources and
strategies. Some of these conclusions agreed with conventional wisdom, political theory,
and empirical research: these districts were internally political with actors exercising
power over one another to control the outcomes of decision-making. Other conclusions
were unexpected, challenging theoretical and popular assumptions (including my own)
about the influence of boards, superintendents, and unions. Here, I present the general
conclusions. Each is drawn from the data and analyses of the two cases, and as such each
is suggestive of explanations of actor behavior in those two districts only. I address how
my findings might generalize to other districts, and how they relate to the findings from
empirical literature, the sections that follow.
General conclusion: Unions that used vocal, visible, high-conflict macropolitical power
strategies to leverage their material and social resources were more likely desperate than
powerful, and such macropolitical strategies were less likely to influence district
decision-making than micropolitical ones.
Of the three types of district decisions – board policies, negotiated contracts, and
administrator actions (Figure 2.1) – unions only have direct authority in negotiations.
Furthermore, collectively-bargained items represent only a fraction of district decisions
that affect teachers, and high-cost bargained items like salaries and benefits are severely
constrained due to cuts in state funding. Many non-negotiated decisions – board policies
like layoffs, and administrator actions like staffing and curriculum choices – are equally
if not more important to teachers. However, the structure of local education governance
dictates that, unless they are invited participants, teachers’ unions are external to the

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political system that makes these decisions. In Rainier Unified, board policies and
administrator actions were open to the union through structures such as the RFOC; in
McKinley, district leaders chose instructional programs like A+ without union input.
When Rainier leaders decided to make the RTA a genuine participant in the
decision-making processes that led to board policies and administrator actions, the union
gained knowledge and positional resources. It acted internal to the legitimate system and,
because it had discretion over strategy choice, it reserved unpopular macropolitical
strategies like collective action and electoral politics as a last resort. The district’s
organizational structure allowed it to be proactive, included them in decision-making, and
permitted them to act micropolitically. Rainier union leaders’ strategy choices
demonstrated this clearly: the RTA first tried to settle the superintendent search as they
did with the RFOC, by relying on internal allies and direct communication. When those
micropolitical actions did not result in the desired outcome, the union opted for the
macropolitical strategy of withholding endorsement. The Rainier union tried to use
internal strategies first, but when those strategies failed the union was forced to act as an
interest group.
This conclusion challenges two assumptions: first, that unions are foremost
macropolitical interest groups, most frequently located by political theory as external to
the legitimate political system (Figure 2.1). Second, that a union’s most influential
strategies are electoral politics and collective action to leverage their context-independent
financial and social resources. The McKinley union tried these strategies to little avail.
While macropolitical strategies can certainly help unions protect their interests (as

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illustrated in the literature review in Chapter 2), in McKinley Unified, macropolitics did
not. Participants cited a number of reasons why the union could not affect the balance of
power: there was not a union-friendly board majority, the superintendent was not
sympathetic to union interests, and the community was not receptive to the union’s public
actions nor did they support traditional union interests. Because the UTM was not an
internal participant in decision-making, its chances at successfully using macropolitical
strategies rather than micropolitical ones to influence board policies and administrator
actions were slim.
In these two districts, therefore, the quiet, subtle micropolitical union was the
more powerful of the two. When the Rainier Teachers’ Association used micropolitical
strategies to employ its context-dependent positional resources, Rainier Unified leaders
responded. The outcomes of decision-making reflected union interests, and participants
reported that the union was highly influential. However, a union-dominated inert
community structure certainly increased the union’s influence, and RTA might not have
had similar clout had power been distributed differently in the community. In contrast,
when the United Teachers of McKinley used high-conflict macropolitical strategies,
McKinley leaders ignored and marginalized them. External conditions did not favor
unions, and UTM’s public action and electoral politics were counterproductive.
McKinley leaders did not trust that the union would avoid militancy to protect the
district’s reputation, and did not respond to union demands. Again, if conditions had been
different – for example, a competitive, pluralist community structure rather than a union-

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excluded neocorporate one – macropolitical actions may have been more successful
while micropolitical ones labeled as shady political game-playing.
General conclusion: While school boards are theoretically the strongest district actor
because of their positional power, under certain conditions they were actually
(voluntarily or involuntarily) comparatively weaker than either the superintendent or the
community.
School boards may cede their positional power and official authority to other
district actors for a number of reasons. The superintendent was most frequently the
recipient of the board’s positional resources. In both districts, board members often
lacked the specialized knowledge and dedicated time required to design policy and
delegated the task to administrators. In addition, the McKinley board opted to delegate
power to the superintendent because organizational norms and procedures supported
administrator discretion, the superintendent was well-liked and trusted, and board
members viewed their role as setting the vision for the district and believed policy design
and implementation should be left to the superintendent and staff.
The community received the board’s resources as well, especially in Rainier.
Board members there reduced their own authority by constantly yielding to the demands
of parents, voters, and interest groups, especially when they were concerned about their
board position and status in the community. Board members in both cases even ceded
power to one another: organizational norms stressed public unity, private debate,
deference to seniority or experience, and marginalization of non-majority members. In

209

both districts, dissenting board members reported choosing to minimize conflict by
conceding to the others and keeping his opinions to himself.
The result of such board member decisions was that sometimes, but not always,
the designation of the McKinley and Rainier boards as the “ultimate authority” existed
only on paper. The boards could have used their legal power to dominate decision-
making, but in these two districts they did not. This is not to say, however, that the boards
always wanted to share positional resources. In McKinley, the board would have
preferred to pass the budget without union input. But by state labor law, the board could
not unilaterally decide on the terms of teacher employment. It is therefore important to
emphasize the “voluntarily or involuntarily” portion of this conclusion, because board
members can’t make all district decisions on their own, and in many cases they may not
want to cede any power to administrators, unions, or the public.
General conclusion: Superintendents were extremely powerful if they had the ability to,
and chose to, use their sizeable positional and knowledge resources (especially those
ceded to them by the board).
The McKinley and Rainier superintendents had substantial power resources. The
post guaranteed them many positional, material, and especially knowledge resources.
They had information about district decisions, they filtered that information and decided
who has access to it, and they decided when to invite other to, or exclude them from, the
decision-making process. They also had professional expertise and systemic knowledge,
they controlled board meeting agendas and issue calendars, and they hired (in McKinley)
or promoted (in Rainier) like-minded administrators. The McKinley superintendent was

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even more influential because the board granted him additional positional resources and
discretion. He had both authority from the board and, because of favorable public opinion
and personal traits, consent from the public. As a result, the category of “administrator
actions” included policy design and collective bargaining in addition to the normal day-
to-day management and implementation responsibilities of the office.
Despite this power, however, there were a few factors which hindered the Rainier
superintendent’s ability to act, and deterred the McKinley superintendent from acting
even when he could. In Rainier, a micromanaging school board and a powerful and
popular union kept the Rainier superintendent from making unilateral decisions. In
McKinley, the community held a negative view of public education and the
superintendent was reluctant to endanger the position of the district in the eyes of
powerful interest groups and affluent parents, even if it meant conceding to union
demands. Yet even in the face of this constraint, there was not much the board, union,
and public could do to limit a determined superintendent. These actors often lacked
information, time, and opportunity. The McKinley superintendent especially was able to
work around constraint. His proximity to nearly every district decision, his position as the
gatekeeper of information and access, and his trustworthy personal traits allowed him to
use second- and third-face power strategies to quite successfully influence the outcomes
of district decision-making even when he could have used direct authority.
General conclusion: Knowledge and context-dependent positional resources were
typically more valuable than material and social resources, and micropolitical strategies

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were more effective than macropolitical ones. However, certain environmental conditions
significantly decreased resource value and strategy effectiveness.
Democratic and organizational theory acknowledge the importance of context
when understanding how internal and external behavior affects the way the legitimate
political system translates demands into policy outcomes (Figure 2.1). Unfortunately,
there were no variables or equations that predicted the likelihood that McKinley and
Rainier actor could successfully leverage power resources to influence one another
during decision-making. In some instances, actors had a comparative advantage in power
resources, but not the ability to use them – for example, the McKinley board ceded its
positional resources to the superintendent, and the Rainier administrators gave positional
resources to the union, because each did not have the expertise, time, information, desire,
or political clout to use those resources themselves. In other instances, actors had the
capacity to act but were not motivated to do so: the Rainier union had money and
manpower, and the knowledge of how to run a campaign, but did not use electoral
strategies because did not want to jeopardize their internal status. A particular
combination of resources and strategies might have worked in one district but not in the
other (or even in the same district at a different time) – electoral politics in McKinley
created a divided board and marginalized the single pro-union board member. In contrast,
electoral politics were successful in Rainier in the past, producing a union-sympathetic
board majority. But union leaders preferred not to use them more recently, opting for
micropolitical action instead.

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In the section above, and in earlier chapters, I argued for some general
conventions that applied to actor behavior in the two cases: knowledge and context-
dependent positional resources granted by another actor were more influential than
material, social, and context-independent positional resources. Micropolitical strategies
were more effective than macropolitical ones at protecting actors’ interests, and zero-face
strategies were most effective of all. Contextual constraint, external uncertainty, internal
conflict, and systemic exclusion decreased the likelihood that an actor can influence
decision-making. However, these are meant to be broad guidelines and not strict rules,
and are intended to describe resources, strategies, and outcomes in these two cases at this
particular time. For example, while micropolitical strategies were highly influential, what
is defined as a “micropolitical strategy” (or a “knowledge resource” or “systemic
exclusion”) varied from district to district and from time to time, and would not be the
same in another case. In the next section, I address this limitation and a few others, and
suggest how to apply the conclusions of this study to other cases.
Limitations and Applicability
As I presented in Chapter 3, qualitative methods are particularly useful in
situations when variables are difficult to quantify, or even identify, and behavior is
guided by subjective processes rather than absolute rules. Unfortunately, this is also a
limitation of qualitative work. The conclusions that I draw in this case study are not
universal rules, even for the two districts in which my case study took place. In the
section that follows, I address three specific limitations of this work: variable
imprecision, sample size, and the length of the study. In Chapter 3, I also introduced

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conditions for generalization: my findings should be generalized to political theory,
which in turn can be applied to understanding power in other districts only under certain
conditions; in the following section, I also discuss conditions for analytic generalization
of my conclusions.
Variable Imprecision
Each of the four conclusions above has inherent variable imprecision. For
example, I argued that the McKinley and Rainier unions acted macropolitically primarily
out of necessity, not preference. While “macropolitical action” refers to an external actor
behaving strategically to influence the legitimate political system, there is no exhaustive
list of macropolitical actions. The strategies I described in Chapter 4 as macropolitical
were those that I observed during the duration of the case study in these two districts;
certainly there are more possible strategies. Further, there is a certain amount of
ambiguity over whether a particular strategy is macropolitical or not, even with such
well-defined actions like endorsement. Endorsement is a strategy of electoral politics that
allows an actor to trade money, volunteers, and connections to voters for a voice inside
the legitimate political system. The Rainier teachers’ union withheld endorsement from
two incumbent school board members because they did not respond to union demands
that the board begin a superintendent search. But the Rainier union acted privately, not
publically. Instead of granting its resources, it withheld them. It relied on personal
communication rather than collective action. Whether the Rainier union acted macro- or
micropolitically is therefore a matter of semantics. Policy scholars in education and
beyond have argued for, or against, any distinction other than a semantic one between

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macro- and micropolitical action (see, for example, B.L. Johnson, 2003), and this is one
example of that imprecision.
Similarly, in Chapter 4 I broadly grouped macropolitical actions into three types:
policymaking, issue/image, and electoral politics. Again, there is no strict rule for what is
a policymaking action versus an issue or image action. In McKinley, the union ran a
negative campaign against a sitting school board member who repeatedly antagonized
union leaders. UTM’s action can easily be classified as electoral politics because it
involved a political campaign. However, the union-drafted election materials claimed that
the school board member championed a policy that unreasonably prohibited teachers
from having small appliances like coffee makers or microwaves in their classrooms.
Fliers designed by the union maintained that the energy savings were negligible and the
board member was spitefully punishing teachers who already worked hours above and
beyond the call of duty. The fliers were not just against that candidate, but also bolstered
the image of teachers and petitioned against the small-appliance policy. The negative
campaign could therefore be labeled as any one of, or all three of, the macropolitical
action types.
Likewise, I concluded that certain environmental factors affected whether the
unions could act micropolitically. In Chapter 2, I described five categories of
environmental factors: institutional context, organizational and community structures,
public opinion, and personal traits. “Institutional context” encompasses countless
variables that describe the immediate environment in which district actors work, but over
which they have no control. In Chapter 5, I presented institutional context variables such

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as district demographics, voter and community composition, district history, board and
employee characteristics, student performance, and finances. When I selected these
variables, it was not based on any pre-existing definition of exactly what “institutional
context” means. Rather, I used my informants’ reports on what variables outside of their
control affected decision-making in their districts. There are many other parts of the
institutional context that I did not include in Table 5.1. For example, I listed only current
population demographics but not how those demographics have changed over time. In
these two districts no participants referenced changing demographics and my
observations supported that current demographics were the more dominant part of the
institutional context. This is not to say that changing demographics were not part of the
institutional context, but they were not an important part of the institutional context in
McKinley and Rainier.
Sample Size and Length of Study
The more data gathered over the course of a case study, the more robust the
conclusions drawn from that data. Unfortunately, time and manpower limited this work to
two districts and ten months. In many instances, ten months was enough time to saturate
the data; for example, behaviors of the McKinley school board members towards UTM
leaders, the union-supported board member, the PTA, and the McKinley Education
Foundation repeated themselves every two weeks at board meetings. Once the RFOC
restored its position, its meetings were nearly identical to one another. In other cases,
however, ten months was not enough time. I observed contract negotiations only in
McKinley, and a school board election only in Rainier. While I used interviews to fill in

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some of the missing information, interviews and observations together would have
provided more complete data. By observing for more time, and in more districts, I could
have observed more decisions and behaviors to the saturation point.
Conditions for Analytic Generalization
Attending to internal validity meant that I selected cases that had a number of
variables in common. By limiting the degrees of freedom and using multiple data sources
to triangulate the same event, I was able to amass a large amount of data and I can
therefore argue more convincingly that I have accurately described and explained power
resources and strategies, and the effects of resources, strategies, and environmental
factors on decision-making as I observed it. However, this restricts the generality of my
conclusions: while I defend the validity of the findings, especially the explanatory ones,
as they apply to these two cases and the decision-making processes and outcomes that I
observed, I cannot maintain that I offer anything more than one of many possible
explanations for actor behavior in other districts, or even in these districts at different
times or regarding different decisions.
For example, Rainier and McKinley are large, both in enrollment and geography.
They are urban, located fairly close to one another in the same politically-active metro
area. Their teachers’ unions and school boards are affiliates of the same state and national
associations. These two districts were not chosen randomly, but rather because they had
certain characteristics which increased the likelihood that they would be the site of

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political activity.
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The descriptions of power resources and strategies in Chapter 4 are
not generalizable to other cases, nor were they intended to be. The extensions to political
systems, micropolitical, and power theories offered in Chapters 5 and 6 can at best be
extended to similar districts only (and should be done with extreme caution at that).
Unfortunately, limiting district demographics excludes a number of interesting
cases. While I argued in Chapter 3 that more students and more teachers means more
financial and social resources for teachers’ unions, unions in small districts can be just as
politically active, and powerful, as their larger counterparts. Local politics play an
important role in the decision-making of small, rural districts because of the strong social
ties among actors (Strunk and Zeehandelaar, unreleased data) and the high degree of
overlap between parents and voters. The very largest districts have even more factors
which politicize decision-making: more political interest groups, foundations and non-
profit organizations are involved in district operations, mayors and city councils are often
active in education politics, and their actions have a national audience. Both larger and
smaller districts merit more study.
Not only can the extensions to theory not be applied to districts with dissimilar
demographics, but they should not be applied to districts in other states and in different
economic conditions. Because McKinley and Rainier are both in the same general area in
California, they are subject to the same county reporting requirements and state labor

32
I do not imply that only these districts are the sites of political activity. While I argued in Chapter 3 that
more students and more teachers means more financial and social resources for teachers’ unions, unions in
small districts can be just as politically active, and powerful, as their larger counterparts. Social ties in rural
districts may be stronger than those in urban ones, especially because there is likely more overlap between
parents and voters. Further, the very largest districts in a particular urban area are extremely complex and
have many other conditions which affect decision-making beyond those which I have described here.

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laws, policy mandates, and funding constraints. This condition deserves special
consideration, because while all 50 states experienced drastic cuts in federal funding to
education, only 37 states reduced spending on K-12 education between the 2010 and
2011 school years (Ceasar & Watanabe, 2011; Oliff & Leachman, 2011). The one- and
five-year cuts in state spending are worse in California than in nearly any other state
(Oliff & Leachman, 2011), and local districts have not been able to make up the
difference which has left them with a 5% decrease in overall per-pupil spending over the
past five years (California Department of Education, 2012; EdSource, 2011). External
uncertainty is particularly acute in California as compared to other states for two
additional reasons. First, the state budget calendar does not align with local districts’
budget submission deadlines, as determined by California education code, so district
leaders must create their budgets with incomplete information. Second, California
Governor Jerry Brown has twice used the threat of budget cuts to K-12 education as a
tool to leverage action from voters and lawmakers. This has forced local districts to
develop contingency plans for cuts that might not materialize. Although districts in other
states are likewise experiencing external uncertainty, because conditions in those states
are not the same as those in California, the resulting conclusions about how external
uncertainty affects political behavior might not apply to districts in other states.
Implications and Recommendations for Policy, Practice, and Research
I began this work with several objectives. By learning about the processes of
district-level political decision-making, I sought to better inform policymakers and
district leaders about how to leverage conflict for productive organizational change. I also

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wanted to create a more comprehensive, integrated theoretical framework for
investigating where the power in school districts lies, and what environmental factors
affect the distribution and use of that power. Here, I present implications for policy,
practice, and research.
Recommendations for Policy and Practice
My recommendations for policymakers and practitioners are made with the goal
of encouraging collaboration in the given environment of policy and financial constraint.
This requires creating conditions that facilitate zero-face strategies to reduce conflict and
increase organizational productivity. To be sure, zero-face strategies are not guaranteed
to improve educational outcomes for students; in the vein of the administrative
progressive ideology, an autocratic regime by an effective leader may actually see better,
and faster, results than a collaborative system in which much time is allocated to
discussion and compromise. But such a regime is not necessarily sustainable, and will
not improve relationships among decision-makers or their capacity for effective
governance. My recommendations therefore focus on supporting three types of
collaborative relationships: intra-district, district-union, and district-state.
Recommendation for practitioners: Increase intra-district collaboration by setting goals
based on student achievement, community demands, and fiscal responsibility, and by
allocating leadership responsibilities based on expertise, not politics.
While collaboration among board members and administrators does not ensure
improved student achievement, the literature has identified a number of characteristics of
school governance systems that have been particularly effective in educating their

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students. These characteristics include: structures for open communication between the
board and administrators (especially the superintendent and Chief Financial Officer);
school board support for administrator action without micromanagement; and intra-board
relationships that allow for consensus while still acknowledging individual interests.
(Anderson, 1992; Carol, et al., 1986; Danzberger, 1992; Goodman, et al., 1997; Land,
2002; Mac Iver & Farley, 2003; McCloud & McKenzie, 1994; Murphy & Hallinger,
1988). Unfortunately, these characteristics are difficult to develop under conditions in
which participants strictly define and adhere to their leadership roles (Land, 2002).
School board members may see themselves as the sole protectorate of a specific
constituency rather than the community as a whole, as evidenced in Rainier. The primary
responsibility for policy-making is disputed often between a democratically-elected (but
lay) school board and a superintendent who is a professional expert but cannot usurp the
decision-making authority of the board. Crucial information about program effectiveness
and cost may be lost during board-administrator communication if administrators
prioritize high-visibility programs (that may or may not be linked to student achievement)
over spending on teachers, like in McKinley Unified. To increase intra-district
collaboration, I give two recommendations based on the findings from my case studies.
First, I recommend that school boards carefully balance community demands with
expert-defined best practices, and that they consider that the needs and preferences all
students are not necessarily represented by the most outspoken community groups and
parents. The school boards in both districts tended to be overly responsive to community
demands. In Rainier, the board needed the approval of the teachers (who were also the

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parents and the voters) because of their political aspirations. In McKinley Unified, board
member actions were motivated more by organizational interests than personal ones:
board members pushed for spending on arts and language programs, reflecting the
demands of parents and influential community groups like the MEF. To maintain funding
for these programs, they sought a decrease in student instructional minutes by
implementing teacher furlough days. This is not to say that arts and language programs
are not important, but while McKinley students were performing above the state
achievement levels they were doing no better than in districts with similarly high
socioeconomic status. Yet district leaders did not research the effects of trading art and
language for general instructional minutes. They also did they realize that by prioritizing
high-demand programs, in arts and language as well as technology and athletics, teachers
bore most of responsibility for educating McKinley’s socioeconomically-disadvantaged
and English Language Learner students while the district provided little centralized
support. Increased intra-district collaboration through open communication with teachers,
careful consideration of all students (not just those represented by the PTA and MEF),
and a better balance of community demands, accountability requirements, and student
needs might ultimately increase outcomes for students.
My second recommendation to increase intra-district collaboration is for board
members and administrators to define their leadership responsibilities by expertise, not
personal interest or political action. Effective school boards do not micromanage;
effective superintendents are the district’s CEO and instructional leader; effective
administrators communicate with the superintendent and board members by clarifying,

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not diluting or manipulating, information. While guidance on how to actually do this is
vague at best (Land, 2002), perhaps the difficulty in attempting to establish general
protocols for role-definition lies in the assumption that general protocols are possible. In
McKinley, one of the school board members had extensive experience in corporate
accounting. If she had more access to undiluted financial information and more time to
work with, as opposed to simply be informed by, the CFO, she might have been a voice
of neutrality and helped settle the district-union dispute over how reserves were reported
and allocated. In Rainier, if community members had better communication with
administrators about the resolution of their grievances, then board members might not
have micromanaged the administrators on the community’s behalf. Each of these
situations was unique to the districts in question. Ultimately, then, evidence from these
cases suggests that board members and administrators might be trained to be sensitive to
different methods of role-definition and how their district’s context can be taken into
account when assigning responsibility and increasing intra-district collaboration.
The danger of intra-district collaboration, however, is that it might lead to intra-
district insularity, to the detriment of the district-union relationship. I address this in my
next recommendation.
Recommendation for practitioners: Increase district-union collaboration by establishing
structures for joint responsibility, information-sharing, and problem-solving, and
building relationships based on inclusion, transparency, and trust.
To increase instructional program effectiveness and student outcomes, research
recommends the involvement of teachers and other professionals in program design and

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selection; distributed leadership and joint responsibility among labor and management for
student achievement; and teacher evaluation programs that combine teacher- and district-
defined measures of instructor effectiveness (Bascia, 2009; Datnow, 2000; Elmore, 2000;
Kerchner & Koppich, 2007; Koppich, 2006; Odden, 2004; Taylor & Tylor, 2011). In
order to do this, however, district and union leaders must see the benefit of a progressive
version of the traditional labor-management relationship called reform unionism. In
reform unionism, the distinction between labor and management is blurred. Teachers and
administrators use interest-based bargaining to negotiate for mutually-desired goals, and,
labor law permitting, they expand the scope of negotiations to create new structures for
accountability and performance (Koppich & Callahan, 2009). Reform unionism requires
participants to invest in structures that foster partnership even if it means relinquishing
the security given to each by the traditional labor-management relationship (Boyd, et al.,
2000).
Rainier administrators and union leaders consistently emphasized that they were
an example of successful reform unionism. Rainier students performed substantially
higher on standardized tests than students in districts with similar demographics, and
although it is impossible to establish a causal relationship between Rainier’s student
achievement and its district-union relationship, the district exhibited a number of the
characteristics of reform unionism listed above. It had organizational structures, like the
RFOC, that fostered joint responsibility and immediate resource-sharing and problem-
solving. All committee participants had access to the financial data necessary to
genuinely participate in committee activities, and participants attributed the committee

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with allowing the district to remain solvent without layoffs. Although avoiding layoffs
has necessitated expenditure cuts elsewhere – for example, by raising class sizes,
reducing transportation, and implementing early retirement – informants indicated that
those choices had no impact student achievement because the district and union share the
responsibility of effectively and efficiently educating Rainier students.
In addition, joint responsibility for shared goals positively affected other aspects
of district governance. Contract negotiations were smooth and each side was more
receptive to making concessions. The superintendent and cabinet members met regularly
with union leaders; they acknowledged that each represents different interests, but that
meetings and discussions can easily solve problems that would otherwise escalate to
grievances or lawsuits. District and union leaders were also always available to one
another through informal communication. Taken together, this is suggestive that in
Rainier, reform unionism had a positive association with student outcomes and financial
stability (although this conclusion is in no way definitive, for Rainier Unified or any
other district, and further research is warranted).
In contrast, there were few conditions to foster district-union collaboration in
McKinley Unified. Both district and union leaders rejected the foundational premises of
reform unionism, adamantly believing the other side would never put aside their
individual interests and that alignment of district and labor goals was therefore
impossible. Each used private debate and information control and hoarded resources; as a
result, institutionalized exclusion created seemingly insurmountable district-union
conflict. Although both sides indicated that they would prefer not to fight with each other,

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neither made any genuine attempts to concede to, or even listen to, one another and
eliminate the conditions for exclusion and antagonism.
Using evidence from these districts, therefore, I propose several recommendations
for increasing district-union collaboration. District leaders can establish protocols,
standing committees, and advisory meetings to include teachers in the board policies and
administrator actions that affect them. District and union leaders should meet regularly,
not only on an as-needed basis, to informally discuss and solve problems. Administrators
and union leaders can share information proactively so that they are not forced to react to
decisions after they are already made. School board members, union leaders, and district
administrators can attend joint trainings on strategic planning and budgeting, rather than
separate trainings led by their state associations. Each can limit the use of closed sessions
when making decisions that affect people or groups who aren’t there. Granted, private
meetings do serve important purposes. They give boards time to discuss confidential
issues, and they allow administrators to efficiently use their professional discretion to
make operational decisions. However, districts should strive to increase internal
transparency and access with regards to their own employees, in order to create more
productive and trustful working relationships.
Recommendation for policy-makers: Increase state-district collaboration by supporting
local implementation of state mandates, reducing uncertainty in district budgeting by
providing complete and timely information, and allowing districts financial discretion
contingent upon student outcomes.

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Local school districts are subject to a number of external conditions over which
they have no control. Many state lawmakers believe that restrictive policy mandates are
in the best interests of students, yet leave the implementation of these mandates up to
districts while concurrently cutting district revenue and reducing their discretion over
what little money districts have left.
In California, external uncertainty is exacerbated because school district
administrators are required to create, and boards are required to pass, budgets that show
how the district will maintain its required reserves over the next three school years.
Administrators base their budgets on recommended scenarios provided to them by the
county; the county analyzes state budget projections and prospective cuts, and then tells
districts how much revenue to expect over the next three years. However, the state budget
calendar and the district budget submission deadlines do not coincide, and the state rarely
passes its budget on time. Further, state budgets are never certain until the last minute;
when the state proposes mid-year cuts, or threatens them but does not actually make
them, counties revise their projections and districts in turn adjust their budgets. The result
is that a district’s budget can vary wildly over the course of a few months, or even a few
weeks. Administrators must plan for the worst-case scenario without knowing what will
actually happen; often the worst case involves layoffs, furloughs, or reductions to salaries
and benefits. Administrators must also frequently make changes to their plans on how
they will maintain their reserves.
The constant uncertainty and threats to employee job security creates an
environment in which it is difficult to establish the trust that is so vital to maintaining

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productive working relationships. Teacher morale suffers under constant threats to job
security, and districts often issue more pink slips than necessary (Hahnel, Barondess, &
Ramanathan, 2011; Sepe & Roza, 2010). Lower job satisfaction means higher voluntary
attrition, especially among early-career teachers (Johnson, Kraft, & Papay, 2011;
Keigher, 2010; Marvel, Lyter, Peltola, Strizek, & Morton, 2006).
Further, the lack of coordination between state and local education agencies
means that state policies intended to increase student achievement are rarely implemented
with fidelity (Spillane, 1998). The federal government, with its Race to the Top program,
recognizes the importance of state-district collaboration by incentivizing state education
plans that use collaborative strategies to raise student achievement, support standard-
based instruction, use data to improve student outcomes, and develop performance-based
evaluation procedures for teachers and principals (U.S. Department of Education, 2009).
Both federal recommendations and evidence from this dissertation suggest that states
should work with local districts to address solvency and student achievement. States
might do this by better supporting local implementation of state mandates (or not giving
districts mandates that they do not have the funding, personnel, or infrastructure to
support). States could also reduce uncertainty in district budgeting by providing complete
and timely information while not threatening and later rescinding cuts. Informants in both
districts, especially the superintendents and Chief Financial Officers, confirmed that these
actions would greatly improve the time and resources their local districts could allocate
directly to students.

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Implications for Research and Recommendations for Future Study
This work confirmed some of the assumptions about political decision-making in
school districts, and challenged others. It also addressed some of the conflicting findings
of empirical literature. Here, I summarize the major assumptions and conclusions in the
empirical literature introduced in Chapter 2, and briefly discuss how this work relates to
each one. I then give recommendations for future research.
Conclusion from literature: Superintendents can be the most powerful individual relative
to other district actors, but they are constrained by external mandates and community
demands (Boyd, 1975; Glass, et al., 2000; Glass & Franceschini, 2007; Keedy & Bjork,
2002; Kowalski, et al., 2001; Pitner & Ogawa, 1981; Tyack & Hansot, 1982).
This study supports the conclusion that superintendents are comparatively more
powerful than internal actors, but with three caveats. First, superintendents do not
necessarily seize power from the board; sometimes the board gives power to the
superintendent voluntarily. Second, while the empirical literature does not claim that
superintendents are apolitical, it frames them as political/rational—they do what is best
for the district. However, this ignores personal motivations and interests which may also
affect decision-making, especially decisions related to unions and well-connected
community groups. Third, superintendents are macropolitical actors as well as
micropolitical ones: they engage in image politics to improve the public’s opinion of
themselves, their district, and public education in general, especially when they believe
their jobs are at risk.

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Conclusion from literature: Teachers’ unions are powerful because they help elect their
own management (Freeman, 1986; Hess & Leal, 2005; Moe, 2006b, 2009).
While it is true that teachers’ unions can affect school board elections and help
seat board members who are sympathetic to union interests, their position as both
employees and an interest group does not automatically make them powerful. A district’s
environmental factors must be such that macropolitical strategies by a labor union result
in the election of a union-friendly majority, not just a single pro-union board member.
Sympathetic candidates must remain so throughout their tenure on the school board.
Furthermore, the union must have other avenues of influence available, especially
micropolitical strategies that might affect administrator actions. If unions only use
electoral strategies, their impact on the outcomes of district decision-making may be
negligible or worse, counterproductive.
Conclusion from literature: Strong unions should be able to negotiate favorable
contracts, but contextual variables interact with union strength (Cowen, 2009; Kleiner &
Petree, 1988; Koedel & Betts, 2007; Lipsky & Drotning, 1973; Lovenheim, 2009; Moe,
2009; P. Riley, et al., 2002; Strunk, 2011, 2012).
Recent empirical literature questions the assumption a “strong” unions influences
the outcomes of collective bargaining. The literature offers one explanation when union
strength is not found to be associated with contracts that favor union interests: contextual
variables such as size, urbanicity, poverty, and racial demographics play an important
role in whether or not unions can successfully use power strategies during negotiations.

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This work supports that explanation, but offers several others as well. First, a
“strong” union is one that affects other decision-making outcomes in addition to
contracts, or negotiates for union-favorable bargained outcomes that do not result in
higher spending on teachers. While contracts are important determinants of district
resource allocation because they dictate, among other things, salaries and benefits, class
size, and the length of the school year, external financial constraints now severely limit
what a union can demand. A pragmatic union may be doing little more than damage
control during contract negotiations, because they know that it is not a question of
whether funding to teachers will be cut but by how much and in what areas. A “strong”
union might therefore influence not only collective bargaining agreements but also board
policies and administrator actions. Second, the literature on contract strength and
provisions examines only the absolute strength of the union, and not its strength in
comparison to other district actors. It may be that a union can negotiate a favorable
contract, but if administrators have more relative power than the union then the union is
comparatively weak no matter how restrictive on paper the provisions of the contract.
Third, the relationship between union and contract strength might be better captured by
measuring the association between past union strength and current contract provisions
(rather than current union strength). Contracts are historical documents, difficult to
change substantially. If a strong teachers’ association negotiated a restrictive contract
many years ago, the content of the contract now might not be related to the current
strength of the union but rather to its strength at a past time when environmental
conditions were more favorable towards it.

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Finally, the assumption that a strong union seeks a “union-favorable” contract in
order to limit administrator discretion might not be true in all districts. This assumption
presumes that the interests of labor and management conflict and that the union needs a
restrictive contract to protect its interests. But if the district has norms of trust and
inclusion, and if the teachers’ union does not feel threatened by administrators and board
members, the union does not need to rely on a contract to protect itself.
Recommendation for future research: Integrate micro- and macropolitical frameworks to
examine all district actors and how they are involved in all types of district decisions.
The current tendency in the research on district politics is to separate actors and
behaviors. Figure 2.1 models the traditional locations of district actors: external groups
make demands on the legitimate political system, and then board members and
superintendents translate those demands into policy outcomes from inside the system.
There are three types of decision-making outcome – board policies, collective bargaining
agreements, and administrator actions – and the way that researchers treat unions depends
on the type of outcome. Unions are either interest groups that affect school board
elections, or internal actors who negotiate contracts, but not both. Whether and how
unions influence administrator actions and board policies is not known. Further, school
board members are assumed to largely be macropolitical actors because they are
politicians, and superintendents to be micropolitical actors because they are professionals.
My overall recommendation for research is to treat all district actors as both
micro- and macropolitical, and to examine their use of power strategies as they interact
and try to influence all three types of district decisions. There are many specific areas

232

which deserve careful attention. The role of unions on standing committees is unknown.
The impact of communication between superintendents and unions, through channels
such as regular meetings between administrators and labor leaders, merits future study as
well. Board members should be studied as micropolitical actors, to determine the effects
that closed sessions and micromanagement of administrators have on decision-making. In
addition, researchers might better define a “powerful union” by studying the behavior of
union-supported candidates after they are elected. The specific strategies of
superintendents and administrators – the exercise of the discretionary power granted to
them by the board, the control of information and access, the strategies used to divide
other leaders from their bases of support, and their use of image politics – needs more
study as well. Finally, researchers have studied the activities of teachers’ unions during
elections, but not the activities of unions before elections; scholars should not ignore the
role that unions play in recruiting candidates and preparing them to run their own
campaigns.
Recommendation for future research: Compare and integrate local education politics to
the work on city management.
School district and city politics bear a number of similarities: both involve
questions of democracy, influence, status, and divergent interests, with publically-elected
leaders driven by constituent demands and professionally-trained administrators
responsible for maintaining the public good. The literature on city politics is rich with
descriptions of different types of democratic systems, how community structure affects
actor behavior, and how actors strategically use resources to influence one another (see

233

Banfield & Wilson, 1966; Dahl, 1961, 2005 for seminal pieces). This work acknowledges
the multiple roles and demands of politicians and administrators and explicates the
unique challenges of governing a city (rather than a state or a nation) where residents and
leaders have personal familiarity with one another.
Municipal government differs from a school district in two important dimensions:
in a school district, those served directly by the system (the students) are not allowed to
vote and must therefore use proxies (the parents), and the district’s constituents are both
those served directly by it (students/parents) and those served only directly (other
residents). Yet much can be learned from both the methods and findings of scholars of
city politics, most notably their integration of democratic and power theories. Scholars
that apply urban regime theory to education have begun to adopt a more holistic
perspective to district politics (Shipps, 2008; C. N. Stone, 2006), but existing studies
provide a description of stakeholder interactions without linking interactions and
environmental factors to decision-making outcomes.
Recommendation for future research: Examine the effects of collaborative intra-district,
district-union, and state-district relationships on student outcomes.
One of the limitations of this study is that I explored the power relationships
among district actors as they related to decision-making outcomes, not student
achievement. While the limited research on collaborative intra-district and district-union
relationships suggests that they ultimately benefit student achievement (Land, 2002; Rice,
2007; Urbanski, 2003), the link between collaborative (or conflict-laden) relationships
and positive (or negative) student outcomes has not been established (Burroughs, 2008;

234

Koppich, 2006). Future work would benefit from a more rigorous exploration of that link,
especially given the intense criticism faced by teachers’ unions and the pressure on them
from politicians, district leaders, and the public to take a more reform-oriented approach.
Rainier and McKinley Unified are particularly interesting cases because the former
embodies the ideology of reform unionism and joint
Final Remarks

Politically and financially, nearly nothing has changed in the seven months since I
stopped formal observations in Rainier and McKinley. McKinley is poised to repeat last
year’s furlough day conflict as the 2012-2013 days come open for negotiation next
month. The local media reports that both sides are as obdurate as last year. Rainier is still
searching for a new superintendent. In an uncanny repeat of two years ago when the
school board promoted the superintendent from within rather than opening an external
search, this January board members self-appointed the replacement for seat left vacant
due to a member’s sudden illness rather than holding general elections for the position.
These internal struggles pale in comparison to the next external threat. California
school districts, McKinley and Rainier Unified included, are again facing financial
instability: Governor Jerry Brown has threatened to cut almost $6 billion from the
already-struggling K-12 public education system if voters do not approve his tax
initiative in November 2012. Once more, districts must submit budgets based on
projections that are far from certain, and their reserves are even more depleted than last
year.

235

Both districts have few options remaining to reduce their operating costs and
expenditures. McKinley has already gutted its central office staff, implemented teacher
and administrator furlough days, threatened layoffs, and left extensive counselor,
librarian, and aide vacancies. Rainier has raised class sizes, drastically reduced
transportation, and lost nearly 10% of its experienced teachers to early retirement. And,
Rainier’s finances are not as stable as last year; its budget received only a qualified
certification from the state, meaning that the district may not be able to meet its financial
obligations given its current revenues and expenditures. While the interactions among
board members, superintendents and administrators, and teachers’ union leaders in the
two districts present a study in contrasts, there is one thing on which every actor,
irrespective of district or position, agrees: If public school districts are to survive, districts
and unions must put their differences aside. Both sides must make concessions and find a
common ground, or else they will fail to meet their financial obligations and, worse yet,
fail the students whom they have promised to educate.
Why are we spending all this time fighting? Why aren’t we out together, getting
the message out that we need to do things that are really going to have an impact
on public education? Let’s put our energies into going together—teachers,
administrators, custodians, everybody—and talking to parents and community
members about progressive taxation, about closing the [budget] loopholes, about
[state finance] that makes sense.
–President, United Teachers of McKinley

Whether you wear a white suit and you’re up on the top deck or you’re down
below, either we’re going to work together or we’re going to drown. It won’t
matter which side you were on, that ocean is going to swallow us all up. So, we
really have no choice. If public education survives, we’re going to have to work
together.
–President, Rainier Teachers’ Association

236

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APPENDIX A
District Participation and Interview Request Letters

Initial district participation request letter, sent to school board president, superintendent,
and teachers’ union president

[DATE]

[NAME]
[POSITION/DISTRICT]
[DISTRICT ADDRESS]

Dear [NAME]:

My name is Dara Zeehandelaar and I am a doctoral student at the Rossier School of
Education at the University of Southern California, working toward my PhD in urban
education policy. My dissertation work is focused on the ways school boards,
superintendents, and teachers’ unions work together to create district policy. I am
specifically interested in the impact of the board-union-superintendent relationship on
teacher-related policies such as compensation, class size, and furloughs, as well as the
collective bargaining process.

We currently have a very limited understanding of how school boards, local teachers’
unions, and superintendents actually interact on a day-to-day basis, and how those
interactions shape district policy. I am hoping that this research will inform the work of
both practitioners and policy makers and help them more effectively meet the current
demands for reform and accountability in times of financial constraint.

My research will be a qualitative case study of three school districts. I hope to include
[DISTRICT] as one of my case study sites because the district has consistently
maintained high achievement, even in the face of significant cutbacks to the state budget.
You’ve probably seen me attending your school board meetings over the past six months,
and based on my observations I feel like [DISTRICT] would be a very valuable addition
to my study.

The research will consist of observations of board meetings and committee sessions, as
well as interviews with board members, the superintendent and assistant superintendents,
and teachers’ union leadership. I will also review public meeting notes and archived
materials. I will not require access to students or schools, and I will only ask each
participant for a single interview. I will gladly share the results of my research with the
district upon completion. To show my appreciation, I would also like to volunteer my
time for a project in [DISTRICT] as you see fit.

281

Please be assured that all data, including any informal conversations and communication,
will be kept strictly confidential and on a secure computer to which only I will have
access. All districts and individuals in the study will receive pseudonyms, and will never
be identified by name. I will also make every effort to maintain anonymity of the districts
by only referring to their general characteristics and omitting any identifiable features
from any published materials. Any individuals mentioned in the study will be referred to
by pseudonyms and/or their general job title only, and never by name. These procedures
have approved by the University of Southern California’s Institutional Review Board
(IRB); I am attaching their confirmation to this email. If you have any questions or
concerns about these confidentiality procedures, please feel free to contact me via email
or telephone (below), or the USC Institutional Review Board at (323) 223-2340.

There are no requirements for [DISTRICT] to participate in the study, but I sincerely
hope that you will want to be involved. I am also sending identical requests to [BOARD
PRESIDENT/SUPERINTENDENT/UNION PRESIDENT], because it is very important
to my research that the perspectives of the school board, central office, and teachers’
union are all captured. Please contact me at the email address or phone number below if I
have your permission to include [DISTRICT] as a case study site and begin asking
participants for interviews. Please also contact me if you have any questions about my
research and [DISTRICT]’s involvement in it, or would like more information before I
proceed. I will be at the school board meeting on Tuesday October 4
th
, and I’m happy to
talk in person as well.

I know that you are incredibly busy, and I greatly appreciate your time and consideration.
Thank you, and I am looking forward to speaking with you,

Dara Zeehandelaar
Research Associate, Provost Fellow [PhD candidate 2012]
Center on Educational Governance
USC Rossier School of Education
Waite Phillips Hall, Room 901D
Los Angeles, CA 90089
zeehande@usc.edu
310.721.8518

282

Interview request letter, sent to school board members, senior district administrators, and
teachers’ union leaders after initial permission was granted by board president,
superintendent, and union president.

[DATE]

[NAME]
[POSITION/DISTRICT]
[DISTRICT ADDRESS]

Dear [NAME]:

My name is Dara Zeehandelaar and I am a doctoral student at the Rossier School of
Education at the University of Southern California, working towards my PhD in urban
education policy. My dissertation work is on how school boards, superintendents, and
teachers’ unions work together to create local policy. I am specifically interested in the
impact of the board-union-superintendent relationship on teacher-related policies such as
compensation, class size, and furloughs, as well as the collective bargaining process.

Currently we have a very limited understanding of how school boards, local teachers’
unions, and superintendents actually interact on a day-to-day basis, and how those
interactions shape district policy. I am hoping that this research will inform the work of
both practitioners and policy makers and help them more effectively meet the current
demands for reform and accountability in times of financial constraint.

My research will be a qualitative case study of three school districts. Based on my
observations at your school board meetings, I feel like [DISTRICT] would be a very
valuable addition to my study. As part of this work, I would like to interview you about
your role as [POSITION]. I believe that you can provide significant insights into
[DISTRICT]’s policy process. Broadly, the interview will cover the overall relationship
between the school board, the central office, and the teachers’ union; the specifics of the
policy-making process; and the nature of board-union contract negotiations. I will gladly
share the results of my research with you upon completion.

Please be assured that all data, including any informal conversations and communication,
will be kept strictly confidential and on a secure computer to which only I will have
access. All districts in the study will receive pseudonyms, and will never be identified by
name. In addition, I will make every effort to maintain anonymity of the sites by only
referring to their general characteristics and omitting any identifiable features from any
published materials. Any individuals mentioned in the study will be referred to by
pseudonyms and/or their job title only, and never by name. This study has approved by
the University of Southern California’s Institutional Review Board (IRB). If you have
any questions or concerns about these confidentiality procedures, please feel free to

283

contact me via email or telephone (listed below), or the USC Institutional Review Board
at (323) 223-2340.

There are no requirements that you participate in the study, and you may opt out at any
time and/or for any reason, but I hope that you will decide to be involved. Please contact
me via email or telephone if you agree to participate, and if so, the best way to contact
you to schedule a date and time for an interview. I will follow up with you in about a
week if you have any questions or concerns.

I know that you are incredibly busy, and I appreciate your consideration. Thank you, and
I very much look forward to speaking with you,

Dara Zeehandelaar
Research Associate, Provost Fellow [PhD candidate 2012]
Center on Educational Governance
USC Rossier School of Education
Waite Phillips Hall, Room 901D
Los Angeles, CA 90089
zeehande@usc.edu
213.821.4071

284

APPENDIX B
Interview Protocols and Observation Guides

The following is a combination of specific interview protocols for district and union
leaders in McKinley and Rainier. The actual interview protocols varied slightly from
participant to participant, depending on the individual’s position and district, particular
issues in which they were involved, and when in the study the interview occurred.

Thank you so much for participating in this study. I am interested in the way that
superintendents, school boards, and teachers’ unions interact to make decisions, and your
point of view is crucial. All districts in the study will receive pseudonyms, and will never
be identified by name. In addition, I will never refer to specific details and omit
identifiable features. Anyone interviewed or referred to in the study will be given a
pseudonym and never referred to by name. Only I will have access to my data, including
any recordings, transcripts, and notes. No one else will ever hear or see my data, and I
won’t reveal what you say during this interview to anyone else, nor can I even make
reference to it when speaking to another person. If at any time you want me to stop
recording or taking notes and go off the record, or stop the interview completely, please
let me know and I’m happy to do so.

This interview will take about an hour. First I’m going to ask some quick background
questions. Next I’ll ask you some general questions about your position as [POSITION],
and how you interact with other board members, the superintendent and cabinet, and
teachers’ union. Do you have any questions before we start? Do I have your permission
to record this interview?

PART 1: Introduction/Biography
1. How long have you been a school board member in [DISTRICT]?

2. Have you held any executive positions on the board?

3. How long have you lived in [DISTRICT]? (If transplant, what brought you
there?)

4. Do you have another occupation other than school board member? (If no, what
was your previous occupation?)

5. What brought you to the school board?

6. Were you ever a teacher in [DISTRICT]? Somewhere else? Do you have any
experience in education?

7. Do you have family members who currently attend school in this district? (Did
you at some point? When?)

285

8. Do you plan on running for re-election?

9. Are you a member of any other community organizations? Which ones?

PART 2: Roles and Relationships
Next, I’m going to ask about your position, and your interactions with other board
members, the superintendent and cabinet, and teachers’ union. Again, I want to assure
you of confidentiality – not only will no one have access to this recording or my notes,
but I will never under any circumstances mention or even allude to anything you tell me
to another person. Basically, everything stays in here. So please feel free to be as candid,
or not, as you want.

- Could you briefly describe your role a board member?
[Probes: What are your overall responsibilities? What are your regular tasks or
day-to-day activities?]

Next, I’m going to ask if you could briefly describe your interactions with other board
members, the superintendent and cabinet, and with representatives from the teachers’
union. It’s essentially going to be the same set of questions for each.

INTRA-BOARD INTERACTIONS
- Under what circumstances do you interact with other board members?

- How would you describe that relationship? Positive or negative? Personal or
professional? [If answer is positive or negative, ask why do you think the
relationship is good or bad? What do they do? What do you do?]

- Are there some that you interact with more often?

- Some that you relate to better? [Why?]

- Do the others contact you, or do you contact them?
- For what purpose? Any specific issues?
- When you talk, are they giving you information? Are you giving them
information? You’re telling one another about what you’re going to do?
Asking for each other’s opinions? Collaborating to solve a problem? On
which issues?

- Does the board tend to agree on issues?
- If there is a disagreement, how does it usually get resolved?

- Are there any issues that are particularly contentious among board members?
Why?

286

- How much do you value presenting a “united” board? Why is it important to you?

- Do you think there is one board member that tends to have more of a voice than
others? How does that effect board decisions?

- Do you think there is one board member who is very effective at persuading
others? How are they able to do that?

- [EXAMPLE OR PROMPT] Can you give me an example of a decision that
another board member made that you’ve disagreed with, and you’ve felt that you
needed to change their mind? What did you do? Did it work? Why do you think it
worked (or didn’t)?
- Can you give me an example of a decision you made that another board member
has disagreed with, and they’ve tried to change your mind? What did they do to
try and change your mind? Did it work? Why do you think it worked (or didn’t)?

- Do you think the other board members trust you? What makes you say that?
- Do you trust them? Why?

SUPERINTENDENT/CABINET INTERACTIONS

- In general, how do board priorities become policies? Does the board generally
take the lead on policy decisions, or do administrators? How are responsibilities
divided?

- What do you think the role of the superintendent is? [Do you think the rest of the
board agrees with you?]

- Under what circumstances do you interact with the superintendent?

- How would you describe that relationship? Positive or negative? Personal or
professional? [If answer is positive or negative, ask why do you think the
relationship is good or bad? What does he do? What do you do?]

- Does he contact you, or do you contact him?
- For what purpose? Any specific issues?
- When you talk, is he giving you information? Are you giving him
information? You’re telling one another about what you’re going to do?
Asking for each other’s opinions? Collaborating to solve a problem? On
which issues?

- Overall, do you think the superintendent trusts you? What makes you say that?
- Does he trust the board? Why?

287

- Do you trust him? Why?

- What do you think the role of the cabinet is? [Do you think the rest of the board
agrees with you?]

- Who has the primary responsibility of interacting with the public? With teachers?
Why?

- Under what circumstances do you interact with the cabinet members?

- How would you describe that relationship? Positive or negative? Personal or
professional? [If answer is positive or negative, ask why do you think the
relationship is good or bad? What do they do? What do you do?]

- Do they contact you, or do you contact them?
- When you talk, are they giving you information? Are you giving them
information? You’re telling one another about what you’re going to do? Asking
for each other’s opinions? Collaborating to solve a problem? On which issues?

- Do you generally agree with the recommendations of the central office?
- If there is a disagreement, how does it usually get resolved?

- Are there any issues that are particularly contentious between the board and
superintendent? Why?

- What about issues that are particularly contentious between the board and a
member of the cabinet?

- Can you give me an example of a decision that an administrator has made you’ve
disagreed with, and you’ve felt that you needed to change their mind? What did
you do? Did it work? Why do you think it worked (or didn’t)?
- Can you give me an example of a decision you made that an administrator has
disagreed with, and they’ve tried to change your mind? What did they do to try
and change your mind? Did it work? Why do you think it worked (or didn’t)?

- Overall, do you think the cabinet trusts you? What makes you say that?
- Do they trust the board? Why?
- Do you trust them? Why?

UNION INTERACTIONS

- When do you interact with representatives from the teachers’ union?
- How would you describe that relationship? Positive or negative? Personal or
professional? [If answer is positive, or negative, ask why do you think the

288

relationship is good or bad? What do they do? What do you do? How are you
defining “good” or “bad” relationship?

- Under what other circumstances do you interact?
- Do you contact them, or do they contact you?
- When you interact, are you giving them information? They’re giving you
information? One is making a request of the other? One is asking for the
opinion of the other? Are you collaborating to solve a problem? On which
issues?
- Under what circumstances does each occur?
- How do you (or other board members) respond to requests from the union?

- To what degree are teachers involved in decision-making? How do you decide
which issues should involve teachers?

- Can you give me an example of a decision the board made that they disagreed
with, and they’ve tried to change your mind? One thing that comes to mind is the
current structure with the interim superintendent, but feel free to bring up another
example.
- What was their position?
- How did they try to persuade the board to adopt their position?
- Did it work? Why do you think it worked (or didn’t)?
- What wouldn’t have worked?

- What other strategies has the union used in the past? Have they worked? What
were the ultimate results?

- What role does the teachers’ union play in school board elections?
- What activities do they do?
- What are the implications of the union supporting a candidate? Of not supporting
a candidate? Do endorsements carry weight? Why?
- What do you think are important factors that determine whether a board member
gets elected?

- Do you feel constrained by the union contract? Which provisions? Which is more
constraining, external mandates, the contract, or the budget?

- Do you think the union trusts you? What makes you say that? Do they trust the
district? Why?
- Do you trust them? Why?

289

GENERAL

- Do you think political aspirations play a role in the way that board members make
decisions? What about ties to the community? Time in the district?
Endorsements? How so? Have these things mattered in the past?

- What is the impact of [DISTRICT]’s API scores on the way that the district
makes decisions? What about [DISTRICT]’s SES? Political climate? State
budget?

- Within [DISTRICT], where does the bulk of decision-making occur? Are most
major policies those that have to be approved by the board, or are they day-to-day
decisions made by administrators?

PART 4: Conclusion
I’m going to conclude by asking you some general questions about district policy
decisions. Again, if you think that there are important aspects to these decisions that I did
not ask about, please feel free to direct me.

1. First, some quick questions about priorities. One or two word answers are fine – I
don’t need details, unless you feel that they’re important!
- As a school board member, what would you say your top priority is?
- What is the top priority of the entire board? [Would each board member
agree?]
- What about the superintendent?
- The teachers’ union leadership? The union?

2. Overall, who would you say is/are the most powerful decision-maker(s) in the
district?
- What resources do they have that make them powerful?
- How do they use those resources?

3. [If answer wasn’t union] Would you say the union is powerful? What resources
do they have that makes them powerful?

4. [Same question if not answered for board and/or superintendent]

5. How are you defining power? What does it mean in this district to be powerful?

6. Anything else to add?

7. Thank you so much for your time. Is there anyone else I should talk to?

8. Would you mind if I followed up with you if I have any more questions?

290

General observation guide for school board, cabinet, committee, and union meetings.

Guiding Questions:
1. What power resources/assets does each actor have and use?
2. What strategies can and do actors use to leverage their resources? What is the
description, location, and goal of those strategies?
3. What is the outcome of the decision-making process?
4. How did environmental factors affect the answers to (1, 2, and 3)?

Meeting Type:
Time and Location:

Agenda File Name:

Participants: Board, Superintendent, and Administrators (note absences):

Other Attendees:

Room Set-Up:

Time Event
Notes on Resources/
Strategies/Mechanisms/
Processes/Dimension

291

Final Questions (answer for each decision process or outcome, if applicable):
What was the objective of the meeting?

What stage of the policy process does this interaction represent?

During this interaction, what types of policies are being discussed? (What is the issue? Is
it a board policy, administrator action, or negotiated provision?)

During this interaction, who is involved?

How did each get access?

What are the stated objectives of each actor?

What resources does each actor have at the start of the interaction?

What strategies does each actor use during the interaction?

What is the outcome of the interaction?

Whose objectives are most reflected in the outcome?

What resources does each actor have at the end of the interaction?

Are the strategies macro- or micropolitical?

What is the goal of the strategy? Is it high-conflict or low-conflict?

What is the effect of environmental context?

292

APPENDIX C
Data Analysis Codes

PRIMARY DESCRIPTIVE CODES

Informant Type Informant Characteristics
(all) Armenian
Cabinet member Board majority
Board member Board minority
Board president Connected family
Other administrator Contested
Other Democrat
Superintendent Encouraged to run/recruited
Union executive board Endorsed by union
Union executive director Family are employees
Union president Family in district
District Characteristics Female
Anti-union Former PTA
Heterogeneous Former teacher
High API Generally appears liked, trusted
High SES Grew up locally
MCKINLEY Higher office
Homogeneous Hispanic
Low API Junior board member
Low SES Male
Pro-union No other job
RAINIER Not endorsed by union
Primary Location Not running for re-election
Board Meeting Opposed by union
Cabinet meeting Other
Dist/Union Regular Other job
District/Union Special Other Race
Email Outsider
Interview Promoted from Within
Negotiations Ran because dissatisfied
Other Ran because satisfied
Standing Committee Republican
Telephone Running for Re-election
Televised Senior board member
Union Eboard meeting Uncontested
Union Rep Council Visible in community
Voter/resident in district
White

293

SECONDARY DESCRIPTIVE CODES

Secondary Actor Issue Type
Administrators ADMIN general operating
Board general ADMIN non-binding recommendation
Board member BOARD budget
CBO BOARD curriculum
Community member(s) BOARD discipline
District general BOARD facilities
Hr BOARD other
Other BOARD personnel
Parent/community member BOARD RIFs
Principal(s) BOARD strategic plan
PTA EXTERNAL bond
Student(s) EXTERNAL other
Superintendent INTERNAL other
Teacher(s) INTERNAL hiring
Union general INTERNAL layoffs/cuts
Union leader NEGOTIATED (all)
Secondary Location NEGOTIATED benefits
Board Meeting NEGOTIATED calendar
Cabinet meeting NEGOTIATED class size
Closed Board Meeting NEGOTIATED furloughs
Dist/Union Regular NEGOTIATED other
District/Union Special NEGOTIATED release time
Email NEGOTIATED retirement
Negotiations NEGOTIATED salary
Other Other
Standing Committee UNION election
Telephone UNION endorsement
Union Eboard meeting UNION other
Union Rep Council

294

ANALYTIC CODES: GENERAL ROLES, INTERACTIONS, AND INTERESTS

Actor Tasks (Described by Self) Actor Interests
Administrator Board
Board member Board member
Other Community
Superintendent District (general)
Union board member Other
Union executive director Parents
Union president Students
Actor Roles (Described by Others) Superintendent
Board Teachers
Board member Union
District (general) Nature of Interaction
Other Nature of interaction (typical)
Superintendent/administrators Nature of interaction (issue-specific/unique)
Teachers Power
Union/union president Definition of power
Voters/Public Is union powerful?
Most powerful and why?

295

ANALYTIC CODES: RESOURCES

Resources: Social Resources: Material
Allies in community (inc. pols) Board majority
Allies in district Members/employees (have to follow)
Ally on the enemy’s side Members/employees (staff)
Charisma Money
Families connected Other
Friendship Strike
History Time to spend on job
Internal unity Resources: Positional
Likeability Access to calendar
Other Access to contact information
Past leadership position Access to media
Patience Board at the top
Perceived acting w/ students in mind Can act for others/can act w/out approval
Perceived as logical/rational Can have closed meeting
Perceived as thoughtful/skeptical Can invite others
Perceived as trying to get along Can speak for others
Perceived as unaligned with the enemy Close base of power
Perceived expertise/intelligence Contract
Perceived open mind/approachable Face time/access
Perceived trustworthiness/honesty Incumbency
Popularity Invited involvement
Powerful family Law/lawsuit
Public opinion Mandated involvement
Status Other
Ties to larger org Power to hire/fire
Visibility Power to set/describe budget
Resources: Knowledge Seniority
Communication skills Set agenda
Information Set calendar
Information control Veto power
Intelligence/expertise Write policy
Other
Systemic knowledge
Training

296

ANALYTIC CODES: STRATEGY TYPES BY LOCATION

External: Electoral Politics Internal/Micropolitical (continued)
Direct donate Divisiveness
Endorsement Emphasize common goal
Expertise Empowerment
Negative campaign Find an insider ally
Other Flattery
Recruit candidates Flexibility/concession
Run campaign Formality
Teachers as voters Hide unpopular actions, mistakes
Volunteers Hire friends/like-minded people
External: Issue/Image Honor promises/follow through
Make other look bad I vs. We language
Newspaper ad Informal request
Other Information control
Press conference/release Information sharing
Public appearance Involve/inform early
External: Policymaking/Lobbying Involve/inform late
Direct lobbying Involve/inform only if required
Indirect lobbying Involve/inform with no requirement
Other Limit speaking time
Internal/Micropolitical Micromanagement
Accuse other of lying Other
Acknowledge adversity/agree to disagree Play on fears
Agenda control Play on lack of capacity of others
Appoint interims Portray something as complicated
Ask for advice Pressure to save jobs/money
Ask versus demand Private meetings
Avoid micromanagement Public dissent/confrontation
Blame state/county Public unity/restraint/concession
Change board rotation Publicize mistakes of others
Circumvent leadership or procedure Put down intelligence/aptitude of others
Cite contract Refer to research
Compare to other districts Reference past success
Debate/decide in private Share responsibility
Defer to age/history Stick to norms/procedures
Defer to attorney/cite law Time pressure
Delay, wait for other to move first Trade costly thing for cheap one
Distance from ppl w/ questionable alliances Trade support for something later
Distance self from unpopular group Treat teachers as professionals
Distraction/rudeness during meetings Vote for, but don’t support

297

ANALYTIC CODES: STRATEGY DIMENSIONS AND GOALS

Strategy Goals
Change status quo (modify existing) Future reciprocity
Change status quo (new) Homogenization
Keep issue off agenda Resource sharing/problem-solving
Keep status quo Manipulation/interference
Other Negotiation
Accommodation Nullification
Collaboration Other
Compromise Persuasion
Conflict Placation
Diversion Retaliation
Division Threaten
Domination Undermine
Exclude/marginalize

ANALYTIC CODES: ENVIRONMENTAL FACTORS AND CONTEXT

Contextual and Personal Factors
COMMUNITY: all PERSONAL: alignment with others
COUNTY: all PERSONAL: history with district
DISTRICT: achievement PERSONAL: ideology
DISTRICT: budget PERSONAL: intelligence
DISTRICT: current structures PERSONAL: other
DISTRICT: history/norms PERSONAL: other job/not running again
DISTRICT: other PERSONAL: personality
DISTRICT: reserves PERSONAL: plans for higher office
DISTRICT: strategic plan STATE: current budget
FEDERAL: all STATE: Ed Code
OTHER: all STATE: other
STATE: projected budget

298

EMERGENT CODES: GENERAL THEMES

General Themes
“Marketing” to the people with power Negotiating style (conversation vs offers)
Accessibility No concessions if already feeling subordinate
Agenda-making Other
Agree on facts, disagree on action (or v/v) Personality trumps
Alignment of interests Power in proactivity
Ask for advice but don’t follow Power of union = power of contract
Attribute success to teachers vs programs Power of union = power to organize
BMs go outside process Power of veto (board) vs power to act (dist)
Board in the way Power of voters
Bottom up vs. Top down Protect image of district
Bullying Protect image of public education
Community trumps Relationship change w/ leadership change
Contract as (necessary) protection Role of union trumps compromise
Divided union as source of power Simplification = manipulation?
Effects of alliances Staff does on the ground work
Exclusion Staff/board role is to support supt
History trumps Strategy backfire
Honesty Teachers vs. Union interests
Information = involvement, confidence, trust Transparency
Information exchange Trust
Interference Trust the numbers
Mistrust/marginalize someone b/c of
alliances, history
Unified board to avoid owning decisions
Union in the way
Mistrust/marginalize someone b/c of
aspirations
Unity as source of power

Abstract (if available)

Abstract School districts have two general courses of action to maintain fiscal solvency and raise student achievement in the face of drastic funding cuts. They can reduce spending on teachers, a strategy opposed by many teachers’ unions because it threatens teacher job security. They can also cut expenditures in other areas such as instructional programs and materials, transportation, or non-teaching personnel, but they risk losing support from parents and community members who want to maintain high-quality options for students. There is a growing body of research showing that boards, superintendents, and teachers’ unions (alone and as they interact with one another) are highly influential in the decisions school districts make when they allocate resources. However, there is currently no clear understanding of what in practice defines a “powerful” school board, superintendent, or teachers’ union, nor is it widely understood how each uses political power to influence district decision-making. ❧ Using a theory-driven comparative instrumental case study of two large, urban, politically-active school districts, I examined how school boards and their members, superintendents and central office administrators, and teachers’ union leaders strategically used power to affect the outcomes of decision-making and protect their interests. To frame and analyze case study data, I combined political systems, organizational, and power theories, and then used the resulting framework to describe the power resources available to each group and the strategies each used to leverage their resources. I also investigated contextual determinants of resource availability, strategy choice, and strategy success. ❧ This dissertation presents four major findings about the two case study districts. First, the more vocal, visible union that used high-conflict interest group strategies was likely desperate, not powerful. That union was forced to act outside of the district’s formal decision-making processes. As a result it had fewer resources, and its power strategies were less successful, than the union that had been invited to act from within. ❧ Second, while board members were theoretically the strongest district actors because of their legitimate authority over local education governance, in both case study districts the board was not, in practice, powerful in comparison to other actors. In one district, the board was weaker than the superintendent because it ceded its authority to administrators. In the other, the board diminished their own autonomy when board members were overly responsive to community and union demands. This is related to the third finding: The relative power of the superintendent was contingent on the amount of authority ceded to him by the board and permitted to him by the public. Both superintendents were very powerful when they had the ability to, and chose to, use their sizable knowledge resources and access to decision-making. ❧ Finally, certain environmental conditions significantly decreased resource value and strategy effectiveness in these districts. I define these conditions as community constraint (devaluation of existing resources), systemic exclusion (limited access to the resource exchange marketplace), external uncertainty (depletion or elimination of local resources by outside forces), and internal conflict (when resources are frozen by disagreement before they can be used).

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

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Asset Metadata

Creator Zeehandelaar, Dara B. (author)

Core Title The local politics of education governance: power and influence among school boards, superintendents, and teachers' unions

School Rossier School of Education

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Education

Publication Date 10/02/2012

Defense Date 06/19/2012

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag education governance,local politics,OAI-PMH Harvest,School boards,superintendents,teacher unions

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Strunk, Katharine O. (committee chair), Hentschke, Guilbert (committee member), Marsh, Julie A. (committee member), Mazmanian, Daniel A. (committee member)

Creator Email dzeehandelaar@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c3-100672

Unique identifier UC11289220

Identifier usctheses-c3-100672 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-Zeehandela-1220.pdf

Dmrecord 100672

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Zeehandelaar, Dara B.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA