Obliquity. It's the name of a book I'm currently reading authored by eminent economist, John Kay (2010). A gift from my new best friends at High Point University, the book is a research-based treatise demonstrating why the most important goals in our lives are best achieved without really focusing on the goals at all. The path to success, according to Kay, rarely runs through the bottom line.
Kay cites figures no less-prominent than Andrew Carnegie and Bill Gates to present a rival hypothesis to explain why individuals who achieved financial success attained it not because they sought it, but as a by-product in pursuing a passion. Their passion is often manifest as a practice performed as much for the sake of itself as for the result.
Kay argues that the same principle applies to companies who first seek excellence then profitability. Comparing Goldman Sachs, who survived the 2008 financial meltdown, to Lehman who did not, Kay writes, "Lacking a corporate culture that valued the practice, as well as the profits of banking, Lehman fell victim to the profit-seeking it extolled" (p. 44). Apparently, greed is not good; it is cannibalistic.
Understood as problems to be solved, Kay asserts that our goals are subverted by the existence of multiple solutions, real-world complexity, ignorance of the nature of our problems, using models that imperfectly describe reality, and my personal favorite, failing to understand that the outcome of what we do depends on how we do it. Honesty is not the best policy; it's just the right thing to do.
Writing about the book is my oblique way of introducing a topic which increasingly occupies my attention--the newly-designed and implemented approach to principal preparation and licensure in North Carolina. I have come to know it well through both my teaching in the Gardner Webb University Master of Executive Leadership in Schools program and my having served on the program re-design team for North Carolina State University.
The goal of the State Board of Education is laudable--all public school principals prepared to lead schools and increase student achievement. The proposed strategy was to abandon extant, and as critics argued, ineffective, preparation programs, each with its own curriculum, and replace the "let a thousand flowers bloom" philosophy with a unified approach.
The approach involves curricula addressing the seven standards of the North Carolina Standards for School Executives, internship experiences each semester, and student-developed artifacts created in response to on-job-training leadership experiences. Also new is licensure, not by the state as has been historical practice, but by the university and districts. The quality of the university program is subsequently judged based on a sampling of its students' artifacts examined by independent adjudicators.
It is far too soon to pass judgment on the success of the new approach. Indeed my adjunct professor colleagues and I are working hard to ensure its success. I am, however, seeing some red flags that seem to find resonance in John Kay's ideas. This blog is not the venue to share my thoughts in their entirety, but here are a few teasers to keep you reading subsequent entries:
First, how do program participants balance creating point-in-time artifacts with experiencing the dynamic nature of their job, team, school, and principal mentor? Schools have many moving parts that refuse to sit still for a five-semester program. Second, how do program participants in low-performing schools with overwhelming challenges experience parity with participants in more advantaged, well-led schools? Third, how do students tasked with creating artifacts on a near-weekly basis engage in thinking about important educational issues and trends not represented in the artifact?
In the end, however, effective leaders present solutions not excuses. So to my colleagues, I suggest that we continue to teach the big ideas that served us well even as we support student-created artifacts and address problems yet to be discovered. To my students, I urge you to complete your artifacts in good faith but understand that they, like standardized test scores, are a kind of idol, a representation of leadership but not leadership as you will experience it as a principal.
I'll give Kay the final word tonight: "Directness blinds us to new information that contradicts our presumptions, fools us into confusing logic with truth, cuts us off from our intuition, shunts us away from alternative solutions that may be better than the one we're set on, and more." I invite you only to reflect on how, in our regimented approach to developing tomorrow's leaders, we may ultimately miss the mark by aiming too directly at the target. That would be a shame.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Leadership Lessons from Penn State
This entry is very unusual. Instead of my words, I am quoting tonight an article from one of several online periodicals to which I subscribe. I have often shared with the aspiring and practicing principals with whom I work the excellent articles from BNET (Business Network).
Tonight's remarks are from a timely and well-written article concerning the reprehensible events at Pennsylvania State University. Educators at every level will do well to learn some lessons from this negative example. About the crimes--and that is exactly what they are--John Baldoni, writing for Moneywatch, had this to say:
Who decides when the CEO or leader must go? That is a question that Penn State has faced for at least a decade in its decision about how long Joe Paterno should remain as its head football coach. Today, in the wake of a horrific child abuse scandal, the answer is clear: it is now! Paterno and the university president were fired late Wednesday.
Paterno followed the letter of the law in disclosing an allegation of child abuse but in failing to follow up on those allegation - as it would seem a man of his principle would - he and his fellow administrators allowed an accused sexual predator to remain free of investigation for nine years.
Mindboggling? No, heart breaking to the Penn State faithful - student, alumni, faculty, staff, administration and most of all to the children who were allegedly preyed upon by Paterno's former coach and rumored heir apparent.
The problem is larger than what Paterno did or did not do. Penn State seemingly acted more in the spirit of self-preservation than in child protection. But there is a pattern. The university, for decades, has put football, or especially Paterno, in a separate category, seemingly exempt from close scrutiny. And to be fair until now Paterno acted in an exemplary manner. He seemed beyond reproach: his players graduated; he donated $5 million to the school, most of which was used for a new library; and he was a genuine father figure to his players.
But there were cracks in the legacy. In 2004, the university president sought to have Paterno retire. But Joe Paterno paid his supposed boss no heed. And the university backed down and in the process, sublimated its rightful authority to his whims.
The lesson for boards of directors, university trustees and public officials is clear. Never allow one executive to loom larger than the institution he or she represents. Here are some suggestions:
Set limits on tenure. Make it clear that the time of service is measured in increments of three to five years. The contract may be renewed regularly but it must be done so with a clear ending point. That prevents leaders from staying on indefinitely.
Groom successors. A leader's legacy begins on the first day of service but it is cemented by the people he grooms to succeed him both as successors and as members of future leadership teams. A deep bench negates the feeling that we have only one person in charge.
Insist on accountability. Leaders who remain in charge are those that deliver the goods. They produce returns that enrich the fiscal and social well being of the institution. Included in accountability must be personal behavior. That is, how do they treat others - colleagues, employees, and other stakeholders. As the saying goes managers get things right; leaders do it the right way.
Will there be exceptions to these guidelines? Certainly. An exemplary leader can extend his length of service. This may be especially true if the institution - more than the leader himself -- could benefit from his leadership for an additional period.
A more serious problem occurs when the reputation of a long-serving and well-intentioned executive becomes so entwined with the reputation of the organization they become synonymous. This is exactly what happened at Penn State. Joe Paterno became the public face of the university.
In good times, that may serve the institution well, but when trouble strikes the institution looks weak and vulnerable, not to mention culpable for failing to hold the leader accountable.
Tonight's remarks are from a timely and well-written article concerning the reprehensible events at Pennsylvania State University. Educators at every level will do well to learn some lessons from this negative example. About the crimes--and that is exactly what they are--John Baldoni, writing for Moneywatch, had this to say:
Who decides when the CEO or leader must go? That is a question that Penn State has faced for at least a decade in its decision about how long Joe Paterno should remain as its head football coach. Today, in the wake of a horrific child abuse scandal, the answer is clear: it is now! Paterno and the university president were fired late Wednesday.
Paterno followed the letter of the law in disclosing an allegation of child abuse but in failing to follow up on those allegation - as it would seem a man of his principle would - he and his fellow administrators allowed an accused sexual predator to remain free of investigation for nine years.
Mindboggling? No, heart breaking to the Penn State faithful - student, alumni, faculty, staff, administration and most of all to the children who were allegedly preyed upon by Paterno's former coach and rumored heir apparent.
The problem is larger than what Paterno did or did not do. Penn State seemingly acted more in the spirit of self-preservation than in child protection. But there is a pattern. The university, for decades, has put football, or especially Paterno, in a separate category, seemingly exempt from close scrutiny. And to be fair until now Paterno acted in an exemplary manner. He seemed beyond reproach: his players graduated; he donated $5 million to the school, most of which was used for a new library; and he was a genuine father figure to his players.
But there were cracks in the legacy. In 2004, the university president sought to have Paterno retire. But Joe Paterno paid his supposed boss no heed. And the university backed down and in the process, sublimated its rightful authority to his whims.
The lesson for boards of directors, university trustees and public officials is clear. Never allow one executive to loom larger than the institution he or she represents. Here are some suggestions:
Set limits on tenure. Make it clear that the time of service is measured in increments of three to five years. The contract may be renewed regularly but it must be done so with a clear ending point. That prevents leaders from staying on indefinitely.
Groom successors. A leader's legacy begins on the first day of service but it is cemented by the people he grooms to succeed him both as successors and as members of future leadership teams. A deep bench negates the feeling that we have only one person in charge.
Insist on accountability. Leaders who remain in charge are those that deliver the goods. They produce returns that enrich the fiscal and social well being of the institution. Included in accountability must be personal behavior. That is, how do they treat others - colleagues, employees, and other stakeholders. As the saying goes managers get things right; leaders do it the right way.
Will there be exceptions to these guidelines? Certainly. An exemplary leader can extend his length of service. This may be especially true if the institution - more than the leader himself -- could benefit from his leadership for an additional period.
A more serious problem occurs when the reputation of a long-serving and well-intentioned executive becomes so entwined with the reputation of the organization they become synonymous. This is exactly what happened at Penn State. Joe Paterno became the public face of the university.
In good times, that may serve the institution well, but when trouble strikes the institution looks weak and vulnerable, not to mention culpable for failing to hold the leader accountable.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Whitewater Leadership
People have hobbies. It is my good fortune that one my friends spares me the expense, but none of the fun, of his hobby. As I hope to illustrate, sometimes what we do in our leisure may inform what we do at work, especially if your job involves leading or teaching others. And so it is with my message.
Jeff is a math professor at North Carolina State University. Jeff's wife, Maggie, works with my wife, Deb, in one of Wake County's excellent middle schools. Jeff and Maggie own a sailboat on which they invite Deb and I to spend time every summer.
Circumstances conspired against us this year such that last weekend was the first time we were able to drive down to the marina just south of New Bern, where Neuse River meets Core Sound and where is docked their boat. Coincidentally, it was also race weekend.
Jeff had asked me earlier if I would like to crew on the same boat he planned to crew. After consulting my gut instinct, hearing the prediction of some really bad weather, and remembering that I had never crewed in a race before, of course I said, "Yes."
As forecast, by the time Jeff and I arrived at Captain Dave's slip Saturday morning, the temperature was in the low 50s, leaden skies were turning to rain, and the wind was blowing 15 knots gusting into the 30s. Core Sound was a pallet of whitecaps. It was a good thing that Captain Dave had extra foul- weather gear.
Dave, in his late 60s, had already been joined by Bill, 71, and Conner, 82. Jeff, 50, was the baby of the crew. Since I fall much closer to Jeff's age than Dave's, I was feeling like a spring chicken among old birds.
Even with five men on board, I was told than we needed at least one more able body to be competitive. I would mentally remind myself of that remark many times during our four-hour trek through the rain and high seas.
I told Dave at the beginning that I knew a bit about sailboats having once owned a catamaran in my 30s. Even as I promised to be a quick study, I assured Dave that I could not be counted on to initiate as my experience was so long in the rear view mirror. Plus, I had captained, but never crewed, before.
If you have ever watched America's Cup on television, you saw skilled individuals working in perfect harmony, a veritable ballet of well-toned men working as one. That was not us.
What you would have seen in us was more like a mob. The only dancing you would have witnessed was us trying to avoid the sudden--but not entirely unpredictable--lurches of the boom on downwind reaches. The only tone you would have apprehended would have been Jeff, assuming duties at the fore, shouting "lazy sheet, lazy sheet," until crew released the rope connected to the foot of the jib on the leeward side allowing crew on the windward side to wench it down.
Sometimes the skipper wanted the sails "hard." Sometimes he asked us to "jibe the jib." We varied from "beam reaches" to "downwind runs" to "pointing." Sometimes I was asked to go "port" and other times "starboard."
At no time, however, was it advisable to "list" more than 15 degrees in this particular craft. I was assured that no matter how much the list, owing to a thousand pounds of lead in the keel, the center of gravity was sufficiently low such that we would "probably" not turn over. Good to know.
Conner, the oldster among us, tended the main sail at the stern, releasing tension on the main sheet to allow the wind to take the "traveler" to the other side when we tacked. In most ways, it was the position demanding the least athleticism. If I were 82, I would hope for such a job. That said, Conner was as agile as any of us.
When not busy with his chores, Conner coached me. "Put a couple of turns around the wench on the lazy sheet so you'll be ready for the next tack." "Watch for overlapping of the sheet." What did he say? All I knew was that, after several hours of wenching sheets, climbing the high side of the boat to be a human counterweight, and dodging errant swings of the boom, I was whipped.
Cold, wet, and exhausted, we beat the last leg of the race "DFL," according to Conner. I thought at the time that DFL was a Coast Guard term meant to initiate a search. Since there were no other boats in sight when I learned that we had actually--thank God--finished, what else could it mean?
Conner would coach me once again later that afternoon as he explained from the comfort of the clubhouse that DFL was an abbreviation for "Dead F'ing Last." Everything you've heard about the sailor and salty language is true.
So what did I learn about leading and teaching? Six things: 1) Sometimes unity of command is not only desirable; it is essential; 2) For many jobs, the only learning is learning by doing; 3) Physical health is a necessary but insufficient condition when faced with the likelihood of novel events; 4) Special language both bonds the team and makes for efficient action; 5) Dressing for the weather makes the undesirable tolerable; and 6) A sense of humor is often helpful and absolutely essential when the outcome you get is not what you sought.
Believe it or not, I would do last weekend all over again. I love a challenge. I love uncertainty. I love teamwork. I love competition. In that cold, wet ride in Core Sound on October 29, 2011, I got most of what I love. I hope you will try connect what I learned in my leisure last Saturday with what you do in your work everyday. Most of all, I wish you joy.
Jeff is a math professor at North Carolina State University. Jeff's wife, Maggie, works with my wife, Deb, in one of Wake County's excellent middle schools. Jeff and Maggie own a sailboat on which they invite Deb and I to spend time every summer.
Circumstances conspired against us this year such that last weekend was the first time we were able to drive down to the marina just south of New Bern, where Neuse River meets Core Sound and where is docked their boat. Coincidentally, it was also race weekend.
Jeff had asked me earlier if I would like to crew on the same boat he planned to crew. After consulting my gut instinct, hearing the prediction of some really bad weather, and remembering that I had never crewed in a race before, of course I said, "Yes."
As forecast, by the time Jeff and I arrived at Captain Dave's slip Saturday morning, the temperature was in the low 50s, leaden skies were turning to rain, and the wind was blowing 15 knots gusting into the 30s. Core Sound was a pallet of whitecaps. It was a good thing that Captain Dave had extra foul- weather gear.
Dave, in his late 60s, had already been joined by Bill, 71, and Conner, 82. Jeff, 50, was the baby of the crew. Since I fall much closer to Jeff's age than Dave's, I was feeling like a spring chicken among old birds.
Even with five men on board, I was told than we needed at least one more able body to be competitive. I would mentally remind myself of that remark many times during our four-hour trek through the rain and high seas.
I told Dave at the beginning that I knew a bit about sailboats having once owned a catamaran in my 30s. Even as I promised to be a quick study, I assured Dave that I could not be counted on to initiate as my experience was so long in the rear view mirror. Plus, I had captained, but never crewed, before.
If you have ever watched America's Cup on television, you saw skilled individuals working in perfect harmony, a veritable ballet of well-toned men working as one. That was not us.
What you would have seen in us was more like a mob. The only dancing you would have witnessed was us trying to avoid the sudden--but not entirely unpredictable--lurches of the boom on downwind reaches. The only tone you would have apprehended would have been Jeff, assuming duties at the fore, shouting "lazy sheet, lazy sheet," until crew released the rope connected to the foot of the jib on the leeward side allowing crew on the windward side to wench it down.
Sometimes the skipper wanted the sails "hard." Sometimes he asked us to "jibe the jib." We varied from "beam reaches" to "downwind runs" to "pointing." Sometimes I was asked to go "port" and other times "starboard."
At no time, however, was it advisable to "list" more than 15 degrees in this particular craft. I was assured that no matter how much the list, owing to a thousand pounds of lead in the keel, the center of gravity was sufficiently low such that we would "probably" not turn over. Good to know.
Conner, the oldster among us, tended the main sail at the stern, releasing tension on the main sheet to allow the wind to take the "traveler" to the other side when we tacked. In most ways, it was the position demanding the least athleticism. If I were 82, I would hope for such a job. That said, Conner was as agile as any of us.
When not busy with his chores, Conner coached me. "Put a couple of turns around the wench on the lazy sheet so you'll be ready for the next tack." "Watch for overlapping of the sheet." What did he say? All I knew was that, after several hours of wenching sheets, climbing the high side of the boat to be a human counterweight, and dodging errant swings of the boom, I was whipped.
Cold, wet, and exhausted, we beat the last leg of the race "DFL," according to Conner. I thought at the time that DFL was a Coast Guard term meant to initiate a search. Since there were no other boats in sight when I learned that we had actually--thank God--finished, what else could it mean?
Conner would coach me once again later that afternoon as he explained from the comfort of the clubhouse that DFL was an abbreviation for "Dead F'ing Last." Everything you've heard about the sailor and salty language is true.
So what did I learn about leading and teaching? Six things: 1) Sometimes unity of command is not only desirable; it is essential; 2) For many jobs, the only learning is learning by doing; 3) Physical health is a necessary but insufficient condition when faced with the likelihood of novel events; 4) Special language both bonds the team and makes for efficient action; 5) Dressing for the weather makes the undesirable tolerable; and 6) A sense of humor is often helpful and absolutely essential when the outcome you get is not what you sought.
Believe it or not, I would do last weekend all over again. I love a challenge. I love uncertainty. I love teamwork. I love competition. In that cold, wet ride in Core Sound on October 29, 2011, I got most of what I love. I hope you will try connect what I learned in my leisure last Saturday with what you do in your work everyday. Most of all, I wish you joy.
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