A Leadership Stone for the New Year: Consider

I had all but given up on my one-word mantra: “consider.” Considering new opportunities had transported me into situations that were exhilarating, tough, and full of learnings. It had moved me from Colorado to Arizona to Massachusetts to Kentucky. It was the word I held onto when my dream shattered or I fell short of my goal. It had expanded my life in ways I hadn’t imagined when I was first licensed as a teacher in 1982. I had even planned to have the word tattooed on my wrist, a reminder of its power in my life.

Over time, however, I began to grow weary of the transitions, the frustrations and even anguish of trying new things. I kept picking myself up, learning from my mistakes, reveling in what I had achieved because I had considered, but feeling more defeated than refueled. I made the decision to step down from leadership and find a new way

I was even glad I hadn’t gotten that tattoo—considering new opportunities and challenges had left me deflated and, it seemed, alone.

Then I saw something on Facebook from an acquaintance whose viewpoints often differ from my own. It was a cut-paste that made fun of political correctness and its extremes. It ended with a statement: “This is what this country has become.”

Instead of scrolling past and keeping my tongue, I responded with this:

“When someone points out an issue to you, consider it. Turn it over in your hand and see if it speaks truth to you. If it does, consider changes you might make. If it does not, set it aside and continue on your way.”

In the moment those words came to me, I realized I was not done with the mantra that had propelled me through life for so long. The wisdom it holds is as strong as ever--I have just applied it in a different way.

In 2020, I will continue to consider, and I hope you will too. Without the power of considering something that is initially foreign to us, women wouldn’t have the right to vote, slavery would not have been abolished, and my leadership journey would have been brief. I am grateful for all I have experienced simply by considering.

Pick up the phone.

This blog isn’t about email. Or texting. Or even using the phone. It’s about communication: the real kind, where we listen and talk and learn from each other.

I’ll admit it: I’ve been railing against email for a lot of years. When I was a school principal, I received anywhere from 150 to 250 emails a day. Many were cc’s—a way for teachers and staff to inform me without directly engaging me. Others included long strings of information, comments, and attempts at making decisions, reaching consensus, and moving forward. I remember sitting for hours each day, trying to catch up on goings on and reading impossible threads of writing, trying to connect and learn from them. It was difficult to distinguish the critical from the mildly important, and sometimes it all felt like so much white noise.

The email communication I found most disturbing was the kind where disagreements bubbled up and parties sparred to have the last word. Even when I would call one or the other writer on the phone and ask him or her to set up a meeting or discuss the issue in person or by phone, the email war would continue. Rather than work toward an authentic conversation where viewpoints are shared and decisions are made, my colleagues hid behind their computers and accomplished little.

Now, I am not immune to the tendency to put off meaningful communication. Something happened last week that gave me pause and prompted me to rethink my current communication tendencies. I was doing research for an article I was writing, and one of my to-dos was to call a retired colleague whose work on the project had preceded my own. For whatever reason, I kept putting off the call. With the article deadline fast approaching, I finally reached out by email to set up the call. Then I waited a few more days… but finally dialed.

He answered immediately, enthusiastically tackling the topic at hand. We talked for 30 minutes, sharing stories and catching up on life. He told me about the challenges he had faced when working on the project—motivating people to get on board. He shared the names of specific people and organizations that had been integral to the project’s success and talked about the importance of the information they had gathered. The call was more than successful: I got the information I needed, but more importantly I connected with him on a personal basis.

Toward the end of the phone call, I told him of our plans to recognize his contributions to the project at an annual gathering of professionals a month away. True to his nature, he stated that he was just one of many who had moved the project forward. He thanked me for thinking of him, and we agreed to a follow-up conversation when the presentation date got closer.

The next night, this leader in our field suffered a catastrophic medical event and, a week later, he was dead. During the week he was hospitalized, this phrase played over and over in my head: Pick up the phone.

We live in a time of transition. Those with years of experience are retiring. Those newer to the field are applying their fresh skills in ways that will improve services for all. It is critical to our future that we talk to one another, share our wisdom and unique experiences, make those connections, and capture that information in a place and time where it can be retrieved by others. Young or old, everyone has knowledge, perspectives, and experiences that, when shared, make us better as professionals and people. If you’ve been putting off contacting someone who will enrich your life, listen to the voice in your head. Pick up the phone. Make the call. Connect.

On Being New: Snapshots

One of the most frequent complaints I hear about newcomers is their tendency to draw conclusions too quickly. They see one snapshot of a situation and assume they understand what is going on. We all do this—it’s called first impressions. But for a new leader or someone new to an organization or position, it is a risky habit. Acting on or sharing information taken from one encounter can lead to all sorts of problems, including the immediate erosion of trust.

What sorts of snapshots are we talking about? One comes upon all sorts of situations on school campuses or at the office that, taken by themselves, seem off. If I come upon a student-staff situation, for example, where a student is clearly struggling, I am more likely to ask the staff member if he/she needs assistance, rather than jumping into a situation I don’t understand. If I see an employee hanging out in the hall on a personal call when there’s a meeting room waiting for his/her arrival, I wonder what’s going on. But I don’t report the behavior to someone else or interrupt their call unless I have grasped the full picture.

In the world of blindness education, I’ve encountered many student-staff interactions that have caused me to raise an eyebrow. “Human guide” that looks more like “human push.” Staff speaking for students instead of allowing them the time to speak for themselves. A white cane that is bent and too short for the student to use properly. Certainly I’ve watched administrators and staff become lulled over time, setting up an environment where little is expected. But acting on each behavior or situation that seems amiss can be just as damaging.

I stepped into one leadership position where my predecessor had repeatedly acted on snapshots. How do I know this? Because it was the first thing staff shared with me when I started touring programs. This leader’s behavior had left a lasting impression on staff that they projected onto me—I was viewed as suspicious in this well-established organization before I even opened my mouth.

It is natural that you will develop impressions of the people and circumstances within your job. But should you comment on or intervene as each incident unfolds?

It seems like our intentions as new leaders will most certainly be misunderstood.  But there is a relatively simple approach one can take, and it has four parts.

1.     Take your snapshot. Observe and reflect on what you think you have seen, heard, or observed.

2.     File that snapshot away in your brain as one data point, and as you see other examples, add them to the file. Perhaps the other examples will confirm or contradict the first example.

3.     Ask questions or gain further information about the situation(s) you observed. Make sure you ask in a way that is respectful and genuinely curious, and do it in private if you can. Aim to get the whole picture.

4.     Act on the observation if and when it rises to a level of concern. Continue to revisit the issue as you make further observations so that your actions are appropriate and effective.

It’s not hard to understand the harm one can do by jumping to conclusions, and yet this is an error nearly everyone who is new makes—sometimes repeatedly. I recently heard an interim minister reflect on his first weeks at his new church. The first thing he shared was that the art on display (portraits of past members, landscapes, etc.) were outdated and did not seem important. He proposed taking things down temporarily while developing a process for reviewing and prioritizing what would be hung where.  

Really? I thought. That’s all he’s got? The congregation is reeling with change after enjoying one leader for over thirty years and he zeros in on what’s on the walls? Let’s just say that I did not feel particularly supportive of the new guy based on his decision to share this relatively inconsequential issue.

The point is to take on the things that are a priority, not just pick out whatever seems amiss to you at the moment. And do so thoughtfully, after you’ve listened, learned, and decided what is most important. What you take on doesn’t have to be the biggest or the hardest thing, either—it just needs to be important in some way. As a new leader, you don’t want to be labeled as reactive or insensitive. Ask your questions. Listen to the answers. Then begin forming your plan.

On Timing and Communication

One of the most valuable leadership stones I have received came from a direct supervisor. We were in the middle of a difficult transition in which a beloved leader who reported to me had moved on. There was much turmoil within the program he had left, and I was diligently working to connect with his colleagues in order to move forward collaboratively. I tried many forms of communication, including an open call-in time for anyone who wanted to share a perspective or complaint. I gathered a great deal of information from the group, formed an interview team, and wrote a job description. Once the position was posted, I waited.

 At this point, my supervisor shared his concern that I was not actively communicating with the department. That’s weird, I thought—I had been working busily behind the scenes to listen, communicate, form and execute a plan. Now that we were in a lull, advertising the position and waiting for candidates, I didn’t see much point in communicating. Nothing was happening, right? What would I say?

“Whenever there is a void in communication,” he stated, “people fill that void with their own impressions and thoughts, accurate or not.” Communicate something, he said, so that the group would understand that I was paying attention. Communicate something, even if I was communicating that we were in a holding pattern.

This conversation left a huge impression on me. One thing I had already learned: no matter how hard you try to communicate well, you will not get it right with every person. I had tried hard to be inclusive, to listen, to address issues and create a process that was exemplary. But I had failed to understand that communication is continuous-the stream must be steady, accurate, and relevant. It must be real, and it must be reassuring without being patronizing. Even when you’ve checked all these boxes, you must continue to communicate, again and again and again.

The ongoing nature of your communication as a leader is critical. One communication mantra that makes sense to me is this: Communicate seven times, in seven ways. And that means that communication needs to be on a leader’s to-do list, every day.