Tuesday, May 26, 2009

I'm a leader. Now, where do I stand?

Old school answer: In front. Commanding, controlling, directing the action. Demanding respect, not earning it. Invulnerable and impenetrable. Extrinsic motivation. Results? Yes. But it's compliance, not commitment and it can't be sustained. (And nobody really likes you.)

New school answer: Behind. Supporting, encouraging, challenging. Soft, sappy and sweet. Vulnerable and transparent. Results? Maybe, but only because your people are supplying their own intrinsic motivation. (Oh, and you think everybody likes you.)

What we need, people, are leaders who can nuance, integrate and moderate their approach instead of either being stuck in one position or swinging chaotically from one to the other to the confusion of all. We need leaders who can move, literally and dynamically in the moment to a position along the "In Front/Behind" continuum that is appropriate to the person and the situation.

OK, then what's the best angle of attack? How about alongside? How about a position which allows, with just a half-step adjustment, for a leader to show the way or get out of the way. A place where our leader can just as easily set the table as do the dishes? A position which promotes shared responsibility without sacrificing the clarity that comes with a leader's added context. A position which allows the leader to disappear into the background just like mom or dad letting go of the two-wheeler for the first time. "Did I really just do that by myself? I thought you were right there with me."

"Well, I was and I wasn't."

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Glee!

The Scene: a suburban community center meeting room, 40-some, 40-ish adults sitting in rows of folding chairs. I stand up and say "Hi, I'm David." The group responds "Hi, David."

I continue: "Like many of you, I was just sitting there watching the final performances of American Idol, not really wanting to get off the couch, when it happened. Glee happened. An hour later I was irrevocably hooked. I was in. I was smiling and laughing out loud (and on a Tuesday!). I was downright gleeful. If the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem I'm here to say I have a big problem: I'm in love with Glee!

Applause and a chorus of encouragement from the group - "Way to go, David!" "Thanks for your courage!" "Stay strong, man!" "You can do it, David !" "We're here to help."

How many of us are there? How many of us are wondering: can I really have been the target audience for that show? Really? How did they know? Honestly, I'm not sure how good the show even is, I'm also not sure I really care. I just know how it made me feel and I liked that feeling a whole lot. (Major caveat: I was/am a massive choir/musical theater geek so this is not an "ex-jock to show choir," Conversion-of-Saul kind of thing).

The show made me realize how jealous I was of the "tweens" and their "High School Musical" hey day. I kind of liked the first one, but I couldn't admit it, no way. But not this time. This time I'm speaking out. The damn show just hit all the right notes with me. (That was awful.) It made me smile and it made me laugh and it reminded me of all of the creative, youthful energy that's still in me, in all of us, looking for a way out. That's worth a lot.

Where's the glee? A friend posted a comment about her joy in watching her child play on a trampoline. Bouncy glee. My son hit an inside-the-park-home run on Monday night. Major league glee. We host an annual badminton tournament. Champagne-soaked glee. My daughters jumping into the swimming pool. Mid-air glee. My wife completing the breast cancer 3-day. Making a difference glee. Two friends are completing MBAs next month. Completion glee. A friend is inspired by Tom Petty. Free fallin' glee.

And, as I sit here thinking of these examples I find I'm falling short. I'm not even scratching the surface. It's out there, I know it is. But there's something in the way of finding it and feeling it as easily as I did when I was 16 or 6 or whenever. Too serious. Too much work. Too much responsibility. Too much self-importance. Too much furrowing of the brow.

I just want glee. More of it, more often. And I need your help. Where's your glee? Do a little inventory and let me know, would you? Let's inspire each other.

(Oh, and you can watch the first episode of "Glee" on fox.com all summer long - check it out!)

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Go Slow to Go Fast

My daughter has epilepsy. Her seizures began at age one - very brief, frequent shuddering spells which we later learned were small bursts of electrical activity that overwhelm the brain and interrupt the flow of information. Kind of like the really loud, obnoxious guy who elbows his way into what was a meaningful conversation with a friend.

Fortunately her seizures were small and with none of the frightening side-effects so many people with epilepsy live with every day. That said, it became clear pretty quickly that her episodes were impeding her development - consider how long it takes you to do or learn anything when you are constantly being interrupted - and so we found ourselves in the world of neurologists, sleep-deprived MRIs (super fun!) and medications we were told "aren't really meant for small children but are the best we have to offer."

At age three our daughter qualified for support from the local school district to work on her speech and language delays. We found ourselves in another new world, the bureaucracy of county and state-funded support services. It took us awhile to sort things out as these resources aren't exactly well-published and once you get started it takes persistence and curiousity to successfully navigate the landscape.

We learned that the centerpiece of any support is a learning contract called an Individual Education Plan (IEP). At the outset of services and on an annual basis thereafter all the stakeholders in our daughter's education, depending on the specific types of support she needs, weigh in on both her progress and on new goals to be established for the coming year. It is a laborious, time-intensive and slow process. And, it works. We had a two-hour meeting yesterday to discuss our daughter's transition to kindergarten. It was a thorough and detailed look at her progress over the last year as well as an opportunity to discuss the best environment and services to help her "access her education" (my newly adopted IEP lingo) in the year ahead.

At an emotional level, these are very hard discussions to have. We, like every other parent we talk to, want our daughter to be "normal." We want to save her from the labels and categorization that are so easily attached and so difficult to remove. That said, I feel extremely blessed that we have people in our lives who want to help her overcome and succeed. That there is a system in place, cumbersome though it may be, dedicated to her development. It was in the middle of that thought in the middle of this meeting that it became painfully clear to me why it's so hard to get development right in our organizations. Processes and initiatives that are slow, involve a lot of people and require complete individualization for greatest impact aren't exactly welcome in the private sector.

That said, if we really want to help our managers manage effectively and our leaders lead with purpose and passion, we need to get intense, individualized and involved in learning plans that create real goals with real outcomes for real impact. No, bureaucracy is not the answer but neither is the excuse that business moves too fast for us to take the time to do the real work required for learning, development and change to occur.

Here's a recipe for your consideration:

Mindset: Go Slow to Go Fast
  1. Involve the right people - who has perspective and feedback that needs to be considered?

  2. Write a plan - focus on strengths, gaps and the full context of business needs

  3. Track progress - stay in the conversation over time

  4. Revise and renew - keep the plan relevant to individual and business changes

  5. Review progress and do it again

Monday, May 11, 2009

Two Poems by Kay Ryan













TICKET

This is the ticket
I failed to spend.
It is still in my pocket
at the fair's end.
It is not only
suffering or grief
or even boredom
of which we are
offered more than
enough.


DOUBT

A chick has just so much time
to chip its way out, just so much
egg energy to apply to the weakest spot
or whatever spot it started at.
It can't afford doubt. Who can?
Doubt uses albumen
at twice the rate of work.
One backward look by any of us
can cost what it cost Orpheus.
Neither may you answer
the stranger's knock;
you know it is the Person from Porlock
who eats dreams for dinner,
his napkin stained the most delicate colors.

Constancy

Last week I wrote about a pattern of change in my life - four year cycles of education, exploration, and employment. I recognize in reviewing these cycles that during each one I was gathering critical information to successfully transition into the next phase. In small and large doses I was picking up knowledge, wisdom, emotional intelligence, self-awareness, confidence and purpose with each pass I made. And now, as I'm confronted with the end of yet another trip around the cycle, I am asking a new question: what if I don't continue this pattern? What if, instead of a change of scenery, I embrace constancy - the recognition that in this time and place there is more to be made out of the bits and pieces I have cobbled together into this thing I call my vocation?

These questions got me thinking about the artist, Andy Goldsworthy, and the themes he introduces in the book, "Time", a collection of photographs of his work. He says the following:

"Whenever possible, I make a work every day. Each work joins the next in a line that defines the passage of my life, marking and accounting for my time and creating a momentum which gives me a strong sense of anticipation for the future. Each piece is individual, but I also see the line combined as a single work."

I take reassurance from this that all of my cycles are connected. I am creating my own line of work and my own unique momentum toward the future. But then he goes on to say this:

"Time and change are connected to place. Real change is best understood by staying in one place."

His point here is that you can't fully appreciate the passage of time and the changes that take place where you are if you don't stay put and participate in it. Is four years enough to figure that out? In plenty of cases, sure it is. In others, no chance. My thought is this: the more you learn about a place the more you can impact it and, over time, appreciate, adjust and nuance your relationship with it. That there is a reward inherent with local knowledge - an intimacy that rewards us with the opportunity to offer and satisfy more of our best selves.

Finally, Goldsworthy says this: "I have tried to pitch my life so that I make the best use of my time and energy. Perfection in every work is not the aim. I prefer works that are fashioned by the compromises forced upon me by nature, whether it be an incoming tide, the end of a day, thawing snow, shrivelling leaves or the deadline of my own lifetime."

His acknowledgement of the compromises that are present in all endeavors is so significant. There is no perfect. There is only the best possible "right here, right now." I happen to practice my vocation inside an organization and we all know that organizations are wrought with compromise. The best ones are led by people who make the right compromises work for the most people to get some important work done. David Whyte has written that "there is no organization large enough for even one human soul" and yet it is within organizations that so much of human progress has been made possible. Go figure.

There is a powerful "and" emerging in all of this. A sweet spot that is about both constancy and change. After all, cycles wouldn't be cycles if we didn't know they'd be coming around again.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Four Years

Here's a pattern I recently noticed about my life:

Four years of high school. Fun. Social. Involved in everything. Interested in leadership and performance of all kinds (choral music, student body president). Not so much academic discipline.

Four years of college. Fun-ish. Social. Involved in too much. Interested in leadership and performance of all kinds (choral music, fraternity president). Burnout. Not so much academic discipline.

Four years in first job. (I did hold another job immediately after college but it was only a 1-year gig and to spend anytime describing it would mess up my pattern, right?) I was a fundraiser for my alma mater. I really liked being on campus. I really didn't know anything about fundraising.

Four years of career "wandering." This is the point at which I left the University environment in favor of...nothing. Just left. Sort of a "find my calling" exercise that resulted in a string of additional fundraising jobs - the arts, human service, education - only to finally realize that I wasn't any good, nor did I wish to be, at asking people for money. This is also the period in which I joined a start-up in an account development role (a.k.a sales) which is, shockingly, an awful lot like fundraising. YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO ASK THE CUSTOMER TO DO SOMETHING like, say, BUY YOUR PRODUCT. I didn't like that very much.

Four years at next job. Now this is where it gets fun. I was laid off from the start-up. Not much of a surprise since I didn't much care for the sales part. However, within a week I had an interview with a leadership development consulting firm doing, you guessed it, account development (a.k.a. sales). [Quick tangent: I am fascinated at how certain types of professional organizations use "account development" as a euphemism for "sales," like sales is dirty and we're too good for that. Curious.] Now, I know you're thinking I should have learned my lesson but, alas, I was finally in a field, if not a role, in which I was actually REALLY interested - hooray! And, I was successful at morphing the job into one that allowed me to present, teach, facilitate and coach, the stuff I really wanted to do, or so I had recently discovered. (Not a complete surprise when one reviews the high school/college interest in performance/leadership development but that was too obvious for me to latch onto at the time.)

(Almost) Four years in current job. OK, so I take all of that great facilitation and coaching experience and I land a great role with responsibility to formalize leadership development, primarily through professional coaching, in an industry leading organization. Pretty sweet deal. And it's been the best learning experience of my life. And, as of August 1, I'll be in the job four years.

Like I said, I recently noticed this pattern.