What I Learned from Facilitating Learning with Mixed Stakeholder Groups

I have facilitated hundreds of professional learning sessions in the education world. All kinds of sessions, on all kinds of topics, for all kinds of groups.

But I will never forget how powerful learning became when stakeholder groups that didn’t usually learn together came together to do just that.

The first time I planned a session that brought parents, teachers, and administrators from multiple schools together, I knew there were going to be lessons I could not plan for. I knew I would have to find a way to carefully strip away some of the deep-set assumptions about roles and positionality. I knew I would need to create the conditions for people to feel safe enough to be their most authentic selves, and like they belonged in that room just as much as the person sitting next to them.

This was hard. And if I am honest, I wasn’t fully successful the first couple of times.

Parents didn’t always feel like they could really share with staff in the room. Some staff didn’t feel like they could share openly with administrators. One of the biggest things I had to work through was the idea of who represented “leadership” from each school.

I wanted parents to understand that the whole reason we were coming together was because we needed their insight, their experience, and their leadership. But saying that wasn’t enough. In order to get there, we had to take a hundred steps back, individually and collectively.

I remember one conversation in particular. A parent shared that she didn’t think the teacher or administrator cared about her child because she never heard from them. The teacher and administrator were surprised. They thought the parent didn’t care about the students' education because they never heard from her (I am paraphrasing).

Everyone in the room cared deeply about the success of that student. They just didn’t know how to communicate with each other.

What I also noticed was that everyone took some level of comfort in the role or title they walked into the room with. They felt like they belonged in that room because of it and I wanted them to feel like they belonged in that room in spite of it. More importantly, I wanted them to understand that what they brought to the room was so much bigger than the role or title they held.

That shift in mindset is vulnerable. It takes time. And it requires much more than a well-designed agenda.

Here are some of the lessons I learned.

Words are just words without action over time.

For many people, time has taught them that despite what is said, posted, or preached, things often stay the same. So when we say, “Your voice matters,” or “We want families at the table,” we have to understand that people will not believe us right away.

And honestly, why should they?

Trust is built when people experience something different over time. That means this work cannot be rushed. We have to allow for and make space for time to demonstrate the new reality we are trying to create.

Most of the training I facilitated  happened over five or six sessions, sometimes once a month and sometimes twice a month. That time mattered too. It gave me the opportunity to learn where people were comfortable and where they were not. 

Early on, I learned that it was important to create time for the different stakeholder groups to debrief separately. It was in those conversations that I learned some people were holding back. They needed a space where they could speak freely, and I needed to hear what they were experiencing so I could adjust my facilitation.

Those conversations helped me understand that trust isn't something I could facilitate into existence in one afternoon. It had to be built over time.

Creating space isn’t enough. The space has to be co-created and cultivated.

It is easy to say that we are creating space for all families, staff, or community members.

But who decides what that space looks like and what happens in it?

If we really want to break down power dynamics, we have to be willing to co-create the space with the people in it. That means listening to what they need, noticing what is happening in the room, and being willing to change course.

Sometimes that means giving up some control (something that is very hard for me)l. 

Sometimes it means realizing that the thing you thought people needed isn't actually what they needed at all.

One exercise I used asked everyone to anonymously share what they thought the barriers were to student success and/or parent engagement. We put their responses on posters around the room and did a gallery walk.

The teachers and administrators were surprised by what they saw. There were things they had gotten right, but there were also things they had gotten wrong. Sometimes what parents and students actually needed was much simpler than the solutions that were being created for them.

That was a good reminder that creating space isn't just about inviting people into something we have already designed. It is about being willing to listen, notice what we are getting wrong, and changing course together based on what we learn.

Vulnerability must be modeled.

As a facilitator, I never strive to be perfect. I strive to be real.

I have been doing this work for a long time. I have put a lot of work into learning, studying, practicing, and thinking about how to create these spaces. There are times when I will speak from that knowledge and experience as I share and guide.

There are also times when I will be faced with something new or something I don’t know. Every single time I facilitate a new group, even with content that is not new, I learn something new. In fact, new learning is one of the things I look forward to the most.

When that happens, I acknowledge it openly. Sometimes with curiosity. Sometimes with excitement. Sometimes with a little humility.

I also share as much of my own story and journey as I am asking others to share, as long as I am not taking space away from someone else who needs or wants to be heard.

I allow myself to fumble over my words. I laugh. I cry. I feel what we are doing.

Because if I can do that, then maybe others will feel comfortable doing the same.

Not everyone is going to get there at the same time.

Glenn Singleton’s Courageous Conversations includes four agreements, one of which is to “accept and expect non-closure.”

The work continues. There will always be more to learn, more to understand, more to repair, and more to do.

We aren’t going to get everyone fully on board in one session or series of sessions either.

That can be hard to accept as a participant and a facilitator. We want concrete and measurable evidence that everyone is leaving with the same understanding.

But sometimes the work is quieter than that.

I remember how different the room felt at the beginning of these sessions compared to the end. At first, everyone would leave quietly, ready to get back to their own lives.

By the end, people were staying after to catch up with people they hadn’t talked to before. They were asking how someone’s family was doing, whether they had heard back after a job interview, or whether they had tried the recipe someone had shared.

They knew each other. They were invested in each other. These were seeds planted that would continue to grow at different times.

And that, to me, was learning too.