Seeking the Mixed Bag

The neighborhood where I live is called Armory Park, based on its history as a military site back in the 1800s. It is referred to by some as a “mixed bag.” It contains pristine well-kept homes, those that are in transition (either improving or declining), and those that would be serious contenders for an episode of “Hoarders.” There is solid representation from the homeless community here and there. Within walking distance are downtown restaurants and venues, university student apartments, an industrial park, and an extensive arts community. I love the variety. 

Previously, I lived in a typical suburban neighborhood that was anonymous and uniform. We had the big house with a pool, and when we returned home from work, we used an automatic garage door opener to drive into our garage, close the door behind us, and walk into our perfect home. When the house needed to be repainted, our homeowner’s association offered a choice of colors: brown, light brown, and a slightly darker brown. Even the rock in our yards was the same.

Within our current little urban neighborhood of 100 homes, the HOA has one color rule: no two homes can be painted the same. As a result, we have purple, orange, yellow, blue, tan, white, and green houses. I’ve seen color combinations that make me cringe and others that make me smile. It’s all about individual expression here, and I love it.

Armory Park is the perfect community for me, because it affords me the opportunity to experience and learn from variety. And its lessons apply to leaders of all sorts of organizations.

As I somewhat obliviously climbed the leadership ladder, one very important thing was apparent to me: the higher I climbed, the more alone I was. The more power I had, the less access I had to real information about what was going on around me. I needed to find a work community that was a mixed bag, like Armory Park.

When I was at Perkins, I received my first 360 review. 360 feedback is a process through which feedback is gathered from an individual’s subordinates, colleagues, and supervisor, “360 degrees” around the subject. Self-evaluation is part of the process, and stakeholders outside of the organization can also be called on to provide feedback.  

The not-quite-360 review I participated in consisted primarily of feedback from the leadership team. While I was thankful for the positive comments and information I gained from the process, I didn’t learn much. These folks saw me in a singular light and had limited information about what I was doing, how my work affected others, and what I might be doing differently. They weren’t a mixed bag.

Growing as a leader means learning from a variety of people, situations, and perspective. Surrounding yourself with those who are like-minded is comfortable, for sure. But it will not make you a better leader. When I initiated 360 feedback for those who reported to me, I asked them to choose respondents from different aspects of their jobs, and to make sure there were some who might not especially like their work. Gaining information only from those you are most comfortable with will only provide more of the same. Seek out discomfort: you will learn from it. 

Be sure to spend time with those who think differently than you, or those who do work different from yours. I was fortunate to be able to interact with representatives in several different departments in each of the leadership positions I held, including transportation providers, manufacturers, librarians, and those representing completely different programs. Fitting pieces together within your organization helps you to make better decisions. It also brings much-needed variety into your work life and allows you to gain perspective.

Now when I see a pile of metal beams or a labyrinth of found objects forming a chicken coop in Armory Park, I pause to consider its merit. Leadership stones can be found in the strangest places.

On Culture, old and new

Three times in my professional career I have entered established organizations that had long and rich histories. Three times I have been stymied by the way people, especially those new to the organization, viewed and managed that past.

We tend to enter organizations assuming that there is a point in time when things should change—when things should move in a different direction. What we often fail to realize is that organizations are always changing—adjusting to new circumstances and improving processes and circumstances. We forget that the past was once new, and that lessons were learned as the organization evolved.

I had spent five years as the leader in a school that had a remarkable past. The lore I heard from long-time employees was fascinating, ranging from ghost stories to student successes. While I enjoyed learning about the past of that organization, I didn’t think to do anything with that information. People seemed to enjoy sharing stories, but it wasn’t until I began working at another established school that I began to think about the usefulness of this information.

When I set out to learn the lore in my new position at a school in the northeast, staff were happy to oblige. At this school, there was tremendous focus on what used to be, and I began to think about how we might bring some of those traditions back.

One story I heard frequently was that staff and students had once enjoyed winter evenings spent in cottage living rooms, the smell of decorated pine trees and a fire crackling in the fireplaces providing the perfect background to guitar-strumming and sing-alongs. These events seemed like the perfect multi-sensory experience for all. I began inquiring about what had brought an end to these traditions: fire code and insurance policies. Wishing to limit its liability, the school had boarded up the fireplaces, and real holiday trees were replaced with artificial ones.

I presented the loss to the school’s president and suggested that we choose one cottage to recreate the winter scene. A brainstorming session followed-what was it that we wanted to evoke, and how could we do so without bending the rules? An outdoor firepit seemed too cold for northeast winters, and of course artificial scents and textures were, well, fake. We settled on purchasing and decorating a real tree outdoors. Maintenance staff built a suitable outdoor stand and created access to electricity for lights. It was beautiful, but not visually apparent to people who were blind or visually impaired—and the string of lights did not stand up to the tough New England winter.   

After the first year, the person responsible for the 40-acre campus designated a living tree for our use, and a nuvo-tradition took root. I purchased a sound box to connect a more robust string of lights to. Trans-Siberian Orchestra holiday tunes blasted from the tree, making the lights flash in time to the music. Students made outdoor decorations to hang on the tree as part of their free-time activities.

The tree became a wayfinding device for students traveling between buildings, and in time, it felt like it had always been there. I doubt folks knew that my husband and I strung the lights each year late in the evening or on a weekend, so that their appearance would be a surprise for staff and students. I felt a bit like Santa himself, recreating the tradition each year.

What’s the leadership stone here? Do not look upon the past as a relic to be ignored. Listen to lore, and try to glean its purpose. Not all traditions deserve to be continued, but neither should they all be ignored. Connecting the past to a meaningful present pays respect to the knowledge and experience of those who have come before you. And you might have a little fun with it, too.