Respect(fulness)

As a youngster I was blessed to have spent a fair amount of time with my grandfather.  Though he was no angel (nor did he claim to be), he purposefully ingrained in me a number of powerful beliefs that have shaped me as a person over the years.  Trace Adkins made a country song popular in recent years describing similar experiences in his youth, with the tag line, “And I thought we were just fishin’.”  Me, too.

One of those powerful lessons Granddad taught me was the difference between respect and respectfulness.  His occupation was that of a water well driller and windmill man.  Thus, he (and for a number of years during my adolescence, we) helped other folks get water to the top of the ground.  He/We served those who were wealthy as well as those who were dirt poor.  We worked both for the honorable, and the scoundrel.  We worked for those of all colors, all beliefs, from all stations in life.  Some were very worthy of our respect; others, not so much.

Through our interactions with that vast array of customers, Granddad coached me to understand that respect is something a person earns.  Always, and almost intuitively, we understand who deserves our respect, and who doesn’t.  We often see those who want our respect, even demand it, go to great lengths to attempt to justify it in our (and their own) minds.  Doesn’t work.  Respect is something that must be earned, mostly through actions (rarely through words).

On the other hand, Granddad helped me understand the power of treating others respectfully, whether they deserved it or not.  We never “win” by treating others disrespectfully, and we almost always raise our standing in the eyes of others when we choose respectfulness as the medium of our interactions.  Respectfulness is something that we can (and should) afford all others in our interactions with them (even if they have yet to earn our respect).

Our respect tells the world a great deal about the other person. Our respectfulness toward others tells the world a great deal about us.

And I thought we were just fishin’ (and workin’)…

Meaning...

In the book Parallel Worlds (2005), which is really a compendium about what research has divulged to date on the topic of physics, Kaku waxes philosophical at the end of the book.  He tries to place all that learning in the context of So What?  What does it matter?  What gives life meaning?  His conclusions are fourfold:

> Work helps to give us a sense of responsibility and purpose, a concrete focus to our labors and dreams. Work not only gives discipline and structure to our lives, it also provides us with a sense of pride, accomplishment, and a framework for fulfillment.

> Love is an essential ingredient that puts us within the fabric of society. Without love, we are lost, empty, without roots. We become drifters in our own land, unattached to the concerns of others.

> Fulfill whatever talents we are born with. However blessed we are by fate with different abilities and strengths, we should try to develop them to the fullest, rather than allow them to atrophy and decay.

> Leave the world a better place than when we entered it. As individuals, we can make a difference, whether it is to probe the secrets of Nature, to clean up the environment and work for peace and social justice, or to nurture the inquisitive, vibrant spirit of the young by being a mentor and a guide.

My invitation to you: Examine your work and life against those assertions and decide if you're happy with the choices you've made so far.  

If not, time to change...        

Walking the Fields

There is an old adage about taking care of the land: “The best fertilizer for the fields is the footprints of the owner.”  My lovely bride of 36 years and I have learned the truth of this proverb firsthand, on our small ranch. Nothing we do for/with our property is as valuable as actually “walking” it regularly.  Through that process we get a sense of its rhythms, its pulse, its strengths, its needs.

The same concept holds true for those of us in leadership positions.  If we get too busy to get out on the front line of our entities, and actually interact and engage with employees and customers we are doomed.  Institutions only survive if customers show up, and continue to show up.  Customers only show up if their interactions with the entity’s employees, volunteers, products, services, and software are satisfying. 

The “soft” data leaders collect through that field-walking process cannot be gleaned by listening to quarterly reports, reviewing profit-loss sheets, examining performance data, watching the dashboard ticker on the computer, or listening to the self-reporting of the mid-managers along the way.  That walking-the-field process is invaluable in making decisions about seeding, pruning, purging, nourishing, weeding, re-planting, fertilizing…

Gotta get out of the chair to make it happen.

Measure (What?) Up

What we decide to measure takes on significant importance.  Whether it is calories we eat, pounds we lose, sales for the quarter, hours lost due to accidents, or any other important measurable goal, the act of deciding to measure it changes our mindset.  Once we become intent on measuring a data set, our psyches are such that it has an impact on our behaviors and practices.  In effect, we begin diverting effort, resources, and time in attempt to make those data improve (sometimes even through questionable manipulations).   

That measure-it-to-make-it-improve dynamic is a good thing only if we are wise in the choosing.  In education, when we decided to measure students’ performance on math and reading, and publish those results widely, the amount of effort and attention (and money) dedicated to teaching math and reading rose significantly.  And, so did the students’ reading and math scores.  When we began rating students, schools, and teachers along those lines some rather ugly adaptations began to enacted.

The real trick is in prioritizing what we choose to measure (since our effort, resources, and time are ALWAYS finite).  In Leadership and the New Science (2006), Margaret Wheatley astutely observes, “Every act of measurement loses more information than it gains, closing the box irretrievably and forever on other potentials.”  

Certainly, math and reading are important learning expectations for children, but are they the most important outcomes we should be seeking in order to best prepare our children for successful lives?  If we truly aspire for our children to be lifelong learners, people of compassion, thoughtful, grateful, polite, empathic, etc., etc., how might we reinforce/measure that type of learning in a way that causes us to focus attention and effort and resources to the teaching of same?

The Space Between the Notes

I once had a conversation with a band director (I’ll call him TA) who served on the same high school campus I did.  We were discussing our love of music.  In particular, we were talking about how some performances “move” us, and some just seem to be nice and well-played renditions. 

TA commented that the element that sets magnificent performances apart is not the fact that the musicians play the notes well (since that is what musicians are supposed to do).  The truly distinguishing element in those moving performances is not the notes themselves, but the “space between the notes” with which the performers impose their influence on the composition.  In effect, a script (in this case, musical notes written on a score) becomes a work of art in the hands/minds/renditions of masterful artisans.

Seems to me that the same holds true in our work lives.  We can simply go to work each day and follow the script, play the notes, teach the students, interact with the customers, go through the paces.  For such we receive paychecks, nods, bonuses, and occasional affirmations. 

OR, we can choose to take those scripts and embellish them with powerful adaptations like smiles, pleasantness, helpfulness, customer-focus, authentic presence, empathy, service-orientation, and the gift of our attention, turning our work into a daily work of art.

It’s the space between the notes that really makes the difference for both the performer (us) and the listener (our customers, our colleagues, our students).  We get to choose.