The blueberry story and a lesson for a businessman

“If I ran my business the way you people operate your schools, I wouldn’t be in business very long!”

I stood on the stage of a high school auditorium filled with outraged teachers becoming angrier by the minute. Their initial icy glares had turned to restless agitation. My speech had entirely consumed sixty minutes of their precious inservice. You could cut the hostility with a knife.

I represented a statewide group of business leaders who were determined to improve public schools. I was also president of an ice cream company that had become famous in the 1980s when People Magazine chose our blueberry product as the “Best Ice Cream in America.”

When it came to public schools, I was convinced of three things. First, they needed to change; they were archaic sorting mechanisms designed for the industrial age and out of step with the needs of our emerging “knowledge society.” Second, the people working inside the schools were the primary problem: protected by tenure, comfortable in their feathered nests, shielded by a bureaucratic monopoly, they resisted meaningful change. And third, if they just ran their schools like a business everything would be okay.

“We invented Total Quality Management! We understand just-in-time-delivery! Zero defects! Continuous improvement!”

My speech was perfectly balanced: equal parts ignorance and arrogance.

When I finally finished, the room was dead silent. Then a woman’s hand shot up. She appeared pleasant, polite. I thought, “I’ll start with her.” I learned much later that she was twenty-seven-year veteran, high school English teacher who had been waiting in the bushes for me for an hour.

She started just as nice as you please, “We are told, sir, that you manage a company that makes good ice cream.”

“Best ice cream in America, Ma’am,” I smugly replied.

“How nice,” she said. “Is it rich and smooth?”

“Sixteen percent butterfat,” I bragged.

“Your berries, your nuts, your flavorings, all Grade A ingredients?” she inquired.

“No, no,” I said. “Our specification to our suppliers is not A. It’s triple A.” And a little smile shot across her face that I did not understand at the time.

“I see,” she said, leaning forward with a wicked eyebrow raised to the sky, “So tell me, Mr. Vollmer. When you’re standing on your receiving dock and a shipment of blueberries arrives that does not meet your triple A specification, what do you do?”

And in the silence of that room, you could hear her trap snap!

I knew I was dead meat, but I wasn’t going to lie.

“I send them back.”

“That’s right!” she said as she sprang to her feet. “And we can never send back the blueberries our suppliers send us. We take them big, small, rich, poor, brilliant, frightened, confident, gifted, and homeless. We take them with ADHD, head lice, junior rheumatoid arthritis, severe mental and physical challenges, and English as their second language. We take them all, Mr. Vollmer! And that’s why it’s not a business. It’s school!”

Well. I would have gotten the point, but the room exploded as all 290 teachers, principals, bus drivers, aides, custodians, and secretaries jumped to their feet yelling, “Yeah! Blueberries, pal! Blueberries!”

So began my long transformation.

Since then, I have visited hundreds of schools where it has become quite clear that a school is not a business, and no amount of glib free-market rhetoric can change that.

Can we graft certain practices and procedures from the private sector onto the rarified culture of PreK-12? Sure. But that doesn’t make it a business. Public schools have no control over the quality of their raw material - they take what the parents send. Their revenue stream depends on the vagaries of state and local politics. And their leaders are constantly mauled by a howling horde of “customer” groups whose competing demands would send the most seasoned CEO screaming into the night.

None of this negates the need for change. We must change what, when, and how we teach to prepare all children to thrive in a post-industrial society. But our educators cannot do this alone. These changes can only occur with the understanding, trust, permission, and support of the people in the community – with and without children in school. We must all come together to help unfold the full potential of every child. It is the right thing to do. It is the practical thing to do, And it’s the most important enterprise of our time.

Jamie Vollmer is a former business executive and attorney who now works to increase support for America’s public schools. Information about his video series, The Great Conversation, and his book, “Schools Cannot Do It Alone”, is available at jamievollmer.com