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.