I had the bad fortune yesterday of rushing home to participate in an East-coast webinar, sponsored by a not-to-be-named ASTD chapter, on the topic of eLearning. ELearning? No, not really.
The webinar was a counter-example of everything it claimed would work. Engage the participants? Sure - let me tell you why you should do it. Polls? Yeah, you should use them (but we don't have time). Monitor the chat? Yes, very important (and I might try it if I were not so busy...) and on, and on, multiple, repeated examples of the bad parent - do what I say (don't notice what I do). And this thing was promoted nationally on a social media site.
After 30 minutes of non-stop Death by PowerPoint, I was tempted to drop out. It would have been smart. But I thought I would just give the guy a chance.... Twenty slides later (50 minutes into the webinar) he began to "take questions." Is there any wonder that "training" people are getting laid off by the dozens? I wasn't angry; I was embarrassed. For all of us.
I was ready to turn in my ASTD membership card then and there.
But a member of my local chapter also was offering a Webinar today - on a very specific topic: How to create Facilitator Guides. Now, I know Steve. He's not a polished speaker, although he communicates well. He's not a flashy guy, but he knows his stuff. I gave up my lunch time to participate, and I could not have been happier. Steve didn't have the online bells and whistles that the other guy had, but he had a chat capabilty. And he used it:
- Polls by chat
- Questions by chat
- Running commentary by chat
- Monitoring the connectivity by chat
With considerably less fanfare, and considerably more value, Steve restored my faith in professional trainers.
Why? He walked the talk. He didn't tell me what to do - he did it, and I saw the value. He didn't hype what he was talking about - he focused on specific key elements and demonstrated each one, clearly and succinctly. And he showed me. And he answered the questions that came in by chat.
Steve's participants used the chat box. And at the end, they all chatted "thank you."
It's not that hard: All we need to do is to walk the talk, show a modicum of respect for our adult learners, and be serious about solving problems.
Thanks for the reminder, Steve.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Logic of Collective Leadership
Democracy used to mean something...something about equal opportunity for all, for example. Our democratic principles used to suggest that anyone could run for office -- still true, perhaps -- anyone with $5M to blow, or at least that much pledged from vested interests. Jeffersonian democracy used to imply that the common citizen, given a chance at a decent education, could develop the good judgement to vote in his own interest (and yes - in those days, it was his, not hers).
Today, the common citizen is probably doing a lot of head-scratching. People taking hard and fast positions on either extreme have made our democratic processes look anemic when it comes to getting something done. But as my 11th grade history teacher used to say, the flaw may not be in the principles so much as the execution.
University professors Stephen Preskill and Stephen Brookfield have taken a shot at a different approach. Their new book Learning as a Way of Leading: Lessons from the Struggle for Social Justice (Jossey-Bass: 2009) suggests another way around this barn. The book is well worth the effort to read all the way through, so I won't attempt to summarize, but I would like to highlight one small part of the chapter on collective leadership.
In corporations and state and local governments, the lone, heroic leader has been the model for most of our lifetimes. Even a casual reading of corporate by-laws (not to mention the US Constitution) should make it clear that this was not the intended model. Non-profits, not-for-profits, and cooperatives - and not just in the United States - have pioneered a different kind of leadership, and Preskill and Brookfield have put their finger on it:
"When collective leadership is being authentically practiced, all group members are committed to creating and implementing a shared vision. All assume some leadership responsibility. All have an opportunity to play a leadership role. All are willing to subordinate themselves to the group's goals and interests."
The National Rural Electric Cooperative Association (NRECA) and other non-profits and cooperatives around the world have been living and learning this model of collective leadership for years - some perhaps closing in on a century of striving for this model. NRECA teaches board members of rural electric cooperatives to set aside their differences to work for the common good of the consumer-members. The Mondragon cooperatives in Spain (see April post) have created their own unique cooperative economy based largely on this approach. Collective leadership is not easy (just think about the "subordination" part of the preceding quote, for example) but it can be learned and practiced. What's more natural to the American character, to the pioneering spirit, to "In God WE Trust?"
Today, the common citizen is probably doing a lot of head-scratching. People taking hard and fast positions on either extreme have made our democratic processes look anemic when it comes to getting something done. But as my 11th grade history teacher used to say, the flaw may not be in the principles so much as the execution.
University professors Stephen Preskill and Stephen Brookfield have taken a shot at a different approach. Their new book Learning as a Way of Leading: Lessons from the Struggle for Social Justice (Jossey-Bass: 2009) suggests another way around this barn. The book is well worth the effort to read all the way through, so I won't attempt to summarize, but I would like to highlight one small part of the chapter on collective leadership.
In corporations and state and local governments, the lone, heroic leader has been the model for most of our lifetimes. Even a casual reading of corporate by-laws (not to mention the US Constitution) should make it clear that this was not the intended model. Non-profits, not-for-profits, and cooperatives - and not just in the United States - have pioneered a different kind of leadership, and Preskill and Brookfield have put their finger on it:
"When collective leadership is being authentically practiced, all group members are committed to creating and implementing a shared vision. All assume some leadership responsibility. All have an opportunity to play a leadership role. All are willing to subordinate themselves to the group's goals and interests."
The National Rural Electric Cooperative Association (NRECA) and other non-profits and cooperatives around the world have been living and learning this model of collective leadership for years - some perhaps closing in on a century of striving for this model. NRECA teaches board members of rural electric cooperatives to set aside their differences to work for the common good of the consumer-members. The Mondragon cooperatives in Spain (see April post) have created their own unique cooperative economy based largely on this approach. Collective leadership is not easy (just think about the "subordination" part of the preceding quote, for example) but it can be learned and practiced. What's more natural to the American character, to the pioneering spirit, to "In God WE Trust?"
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Jim Bouton and the Power of Reflection
Most baseball fans who cared probably read Ball Four forty years ago. Back then I was too busy doing my homework to take the time to read a baseball book, especially a "bestseller" that purported to "tell the truth about the game." In case the name of the book doesn't immediately ring a bell for you, Ball Four relates the personal experience of Jim Bouton, a former World Series championship pitcher for the New York Yankees, who has turned 30. For the 1969 season, seemingly nearing the end of his short career, he is headed to the minor leagues to develop a knuckleball in order to work his way back to the major leagues.
At a distance of four decades, Ball Four offers unexpected insights, and not just for baseball fans. It was the nature of the book, rather than the content, that held my attention these last couple of weeks. Not that the content is not interesting. The book has historical interest, for example.
In 1969, players had limited options if they wanted to play in the Major Leagues. Once they signed a contract, the club that signed them controlled their negotiating power by means of a provision then known as baseball's "Reserve Clause." If you know the history, you know that players have since turned the tables on management. The clubhouse in 1969, though, was a different world.
Ball Four, though, chronicles more than the events of the season. Bouton, a bit of a square peg as a thinking player, thought critically about the prevailing feelings and attitudes - of other players, as well as management. He recorded his thoughts each day, so the narrative has an immediacy that few memoirs can achieve. His daily recordings became increasingly reflective. As the season wore on, Bouton questioned almost every aspect of the league, the clubhouse, and the prevailing "wisdom" of the players.
About the same time that Jim Bouton was writing this book, I was writing daily journal posts, originally as an assignment for Michael Zajic, my high school English teacher, and later, as a personal pursuit that I kept up for years. As I read Ball Four, I could not help seeing Bouton's thoughts grow deeper, more profound, more intellectually honest. In Bouton's narrative, I recognized the personal transformation that I had gone through with the journaling process, although for me, it took far longer than a single baseball season.
If we stick with these daily reflective writings about our world (both external and internal), the process can ultimately help us increase our powers of observation, and eventually, our understanding of ourselves. Bouton does not disappoint in this aspect. Since high school, I have read many, many baseball books. For the development in his reflective thinking, and for his ability and willingness to share his reflections with us, Bouton's ending is my favorite.
His last musings begin with hearing about the fate of a fellow former major league pitcher whom a taxi driver tells him is now pitching in the Kentucky Industrial League. I'll let Bouton say the rest himself:
"Then I thought, would I do that? When it's over for me, would I be hanging on with the Ross Eversoles? I went down deep and the answer I came up with was yes.
"Yes, I would. You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time."
The Jim Bouton of the opening pages of the early season would not have allowed himself to think that, let alone to express it with a poetical flair. Coming at the end of Bouton's season, it demonstrates the power of daily, disciplined reflection to ultimately penetrate layers of tough surfaces, helping us find our essential truth.
At a distance of four decades, Ball Four offers unexpected insights, and not just for baseball fans. It was the nature of the book, rather than the content, that held my attention these last couple of weeks. Not that the content is not interesting. The book has historical interest, for example.
In 1969, players had limited options if they wanted to play in the Major Leagues. Once they signed a contract, the club that signed them controlled their negotiating power by means of a provision then known as baseball's "Reserve Clause." If you know the history, you know that players have since turned the tables on management. The clubhouse in 1969, though, was a different world.
Ball Four, though, chronicles more than the events of the season. Bouton, a bit of a square peg as a thinking player, thought critically about the prevailing feelings and attitudes - of other players, as well as management. He recorded his thoughts each day, so the narrative has an immediacy that few memoirs can achieve. His daily recordings became increasingly reflective. As the season wore on, Bouton questioned almost every aspect of the league, the clubhouse, and the prevailing "wisdom" of the players.
About the same time that Jim Bouton was writing this book, I was writing daily journal posts, originally as an assignment for Michael Zajic, my high school English teacher, and later, as a personal pursuit that I kept up for years. As I read Ball Four, I could not help seeing Bouton's thoughts grow deeper, more profound, more intellectually honest. In Bouton's narrative, I recognized the personal transformation that I had gone through with the journaling process, although for me, it took far longer than a single baseball season.
If we stick with these daily reflective writings about our world (both external and internal), the process can ultimately help us increase our powers of observation, and eventually, our understanding of ourselves. Bouton does not disappoint in this aspect. Since high school, I have read many, many baseball books. For the development in his reflective thinking, and for his ability and willingness to share his reflections with us, Bouton's ending is my favorite.
His last musings begin with hearing about the fate of a fellow former major league pitcher whom a taxi driver tells him is now pitching in the Kentucky Industrial League. I'll let Bouton say the rest himself:
"Then I thought, would I do that? When it's over for me, would I be hanging on with the Ross Eversoles? I went down deep and the answer I came up with was yes.
"Yes, I would. You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time."
The Jim Bouton of the opening pages of the early season would not have allowed himself to think that, let alone to express it with a poetical flair. Coming at the end of Bouton's season, it demonstrates the power of daily, disciplined reflection to ultimately penetrate layers of tough surfaces, helping us find our essential truth.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
We could have learned from Mondragon
William Foote Whyte, coauthor of Making Mondragon (Cornell University/1988), wrote about Ana Gutierrez-Johnson, one of his students and co-researchers for the book:
It is surprising and disheartening to me that here in the United States, where we put such emphasis on freedom and openness, so many of us respond to the words "cooperative" or "socialist" as if they were curses, with no attempt to understand what they actually mean. Legislators Kent Conrad and Byron Dorgan proposed that cooperatives be another alternative means of providing health care insurance. Rather than exploring that alternative - a self-supporting organization that would cost taxpayers NOTHING - our media, legislators, and a significant portion of the public chose to remain polarized, insisting on what Ana Gutierrez-Johnson would have called the "digital" solution, and making us all poorer as a result.
What has happened to our democracy? And what has happened to our values, which used to support open dialogue, debate, and thoughtful decision-making?
"She deserves particular credit for pointing out the importance of the equilibrio principle in guiding the development of the cooperatives. Ana phrased it in terms of the contrast between digital and analogic reasoning. Digital reasoning frames choices in either/or zero-sum terms, whereas analogic reasoning frames the choices in terms of both/and, guiding the actors toward balancing interests and needs."The man who inspired the Mondragon cooperatives, a priest named Don Jose Maria Arizmendiarrieta, saw the politics of organizational structures in a spectrum, with cooperatives in the middle, as a balanced form of organization. In contrast to socialism on the extreme left, in which the welfare of the workers is always the primary concern, and capitalism on the extreme right, in which return to shareholders is always the primary concern, worker cooperatives provide for the welfare of the workers by achieving a balance between their needs and the organization's economic requirements.
It is surprising and disheartening to me that here in the United States, where we put such emphasis on freedom and openness, so many of us respond to the words "cooperative" or "socialist" as if they were curses, with no attempt to understand what they actually mean. Legislators Kent Conrad and Byron Dorgan proposed that cooperatives be another alternative means of providing health care insurance. Rather than exploring that alternative - a self-supporting organization that would cost taxpayers NOTHING - our media, legislators, and a significant portion of the public chose to remain polarized, insisting on what Ana Gutierrez-Johnson would have called the "digital" solution, and making us all poorer as a result.
What has happened to our democracy? And what has happened to our values, which used to support open dialogue, debate, and thoughtful decision-making?
Friday, March 5, 2010
Why We Are Here
Let’s think hard about this one. With all due respect to philosophers and theologians who have debated this question for centuries, is it really that tough to figure out?
Not when I have my friends with me – and I have brought a few along for this post: Billy Kilmer, Oprah Winfrey, and Emily Dickinson. I’ve also brought along my private inspiration who is always with me: my mother.
Billy Kilmer came to the Washington Redskins in the 1970s as a veteran (read: old) quarterback with a suspect arm. Fans had to wonder why a team that already had a great veteran (Sonny Jurgensen) and a wealth of young prospects needed someone like him. They wondered until he stepped in for Jurgensen during the Redskins first Super Bowl season. He didn’t throw that well, didn’t run that well, just didn’t look that good in general. He wasn’t a fun player to idolize. But he did one thing that made him a champion: he knew how to get his teammates to perform. He knew what they needed in the huddle, and he knew how to get the ball to the right individual. And when the old-timers from that 1972 team get together, they don’t talk about how great he was; they talk about the great things they accomplished together.
Enter Oprah Winfrey and her empire. I will admit that I don’t spend a lot of time watching her show or reading her magazine. Never have. But when I do pay attention to what she does, I am struck by one aspect of it: it’s all about us -- what makes us happy, what makes successful, what holds us back. Stars come and go; teachers, leaders, companions on the journey – they stick with us.
And then there’s that forlorn soul, Emily Dickinson, a strong, brave, but desperate voice, virtually unheard during her lifetime – my counterexample. She wrote great poetry, tapping into the big questions of life, death, and yes, meaning. But her peers and contemporaries had no idea; she was one of those poor souls appreciated only after her death.
I have had a few successes in my life. I have always felt that I earned my successes by working with others to make something bigger or better than what I could have created on my own. Where did that come from?
My Mom is a pretty humble person in terms of her resume. You might wonder why friends and family from all over the country make a point of calling her on a regular basis, just to check in. You might wonder why an 80-year-old who appeared to be mostly a “housewife” most of her life would inspire that much interest and loyalty. I don’t wonder for a minute, just as I am no longer surprised when my Mom (1000 miles and a time zone away) happens to call just at those critical times when something important is happening in my life.
It’s really pretty simple: people who spend any significant time with my Mom are better off. They’re happier, they’re healthier, and they feel better about themselves. She knows how to help people be their best, even when the things around us are at their worst. Most of us aren’t even aware of what’s going on unless we think about it afterwards. We just feel better.
So back to the question of why we are here: it may have taken me five decades to figure it out for myself, but I think I’ve got it now. Someday, Mom, I’m going to catch up to you.
Not when I have my friends with me – and I have brought a few along for this post: Billy Kilmer, Oprah Winfrey, and Emily Dickinson. I’ve also brought along my private inspiration who is always with me: my mother.
Billy Kilmer came to the Washington Redskins in the 1970s as a veteran (read: old) quarterback with a suspect arm. Fans had to wonder why a team that already had a great veteran (Sonny Jurgensen) and a wealth of young prospects needed someone like him. They wondered until he stepped in for Jurgensen during the Redskins first Super Bowl season. He didn’t throw that well, didn’t run that well, just didn’t look that good in general. He wasn’t a fun player to idolize. But he did one thing that made him a champion: he knew how to get his teammates to perform. He knew what they needed in the huddle, and he knew how to get the ball to the right individual. And when the old-timers from that 1972 team get together, they don’t talk about how great he was; they talk about the great things they accomplished together.
Enter Oprah Winfrey and her empire. I will admit that I don’t spend a lot of time watching her show or reading her magazine. Never have. But when I do pay attention to what she does, I am struck by one aspect of it: it’s all about us -- what makes us happy, what makes successful, what holds us back. Stars come and go; teachers, leaders, companions on the journey – they stick with us.
And then there’s that forlorn soul, Emily Dickinson, a strong, brave, but desperate voice, virtually unheard during her lifetime – my counterexample. She wrote great poetry, tapping into the big questions of life, death, and yes, meaning. But her peers and contemporaries had no idea; she was one of those poor souls appreciated only after her death.
I have had a few successes in my life. I have always felt that I earned my successes by working with others to make something bigger or better than what I could have created on my own. Where did that come from?
My Mom is a pretty humble person in terms of her resume. You might wonder why friends and family from all over the country make a point of calling her on a regular basis, just to check in. You might wonder why an 80-year-old who appeared to be mostly a “housewife” most of her life would inspire that much interest and loyalty. I don’t wonder for a minute, just as I am no longer surprised when my Mom (1000 miles and a time zone away) happens to call just at those critical times when something important is happening in my life.
It’s really pretty simple: people who spend any significant time with my Mom are better off. They’re happier, they’re healthier, and they feel better about themselves. She knows how to help people be their best, even when the things around us are at their worst. Most of us aren’t even aware of what’s going on unless we think about it afterwards. We just feel better.
So back to the question of why we are here: it may have taken me five decades to figure it out for myself, but I think I’ve got it now. Someday, Mom, I’m going to catch up to you.
Friday, February 12, 2010
A Hundred Year-Old Gift to the People of St. Paul
How can I have lived here for 12 years and never visited this library?
As a marketer, an educator, and a citizen, I have been missing one of our city’s finest gems – the James J. Hill Business Reference Library, in the same building as the St. Paul Central Library on Rice Park.
This vault-ceilinged, classic room is complete with reference resources from every imaginable industry, and a bank of computers loaded with free access to an incredible wealth of online information. But the best resource of all is the on-duty reference librarian, who will find out what you need and guide you to the right link on the computer that puts a wealth of information at your fingertips.
I spent a rewarding 90 minutes in the library today; I’ll be back.
The Hill Library is supported partly by voluntary contributions. I am planning to make one.
As a marketer, an educator, and a citizen, I have been missing one of our city’s finest gems – the James J. Hill Business Reference Library, in the same building as the St. Paul Central Library on Rice Park.
This vault-ceilinged, classic room is complete with reference resources from every imaginable industry, and a bank of computers loaded with free access to an incredible wealth of online information. But the best resource of all is the on-duty reference librarian, who will find out what you need and guide you to the right link on the computer that puts a wealth of information at your fingertips.
I spent a rewarding 90 minutes in the library today; I’ll be back.
The Hill Library is supported partly by voluntary contributions. I am planning to make one.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The Bush Foundation Teacher Effectiveness Initiative: Research isn't the only reason
The Bush Foundation, established in 1953 by former 3M executive Archibald Bush and his wife Edyth, announced a $40M initiative a couple of months ago that aims to produce 25,000 capable teachers in the next 10 years. You can read more about the Teacher Effectiveness Initiative on the Foundation’s website, www.bushfoundation.org.
Also on the website is a link to MPR’s January 14 Morning Show, featuring Susan Heegard, the Foundation’s VP and Educational Achievement Team Leader. Both the broadcast and the website feature a solid research base for the decision to spend the money on preparing and supporting teachers. As a former teacher who did get great training, I think that the grant is a great opportunity to make a difference, and that the Bush Foundation has a well-thought out approach to finding some leverage in the system.
Listening to the broadcast, though, I was struck by the journalists’ singular appeal to abstract reasoning and the lack of any reference to personal experience. Unfortunately, the recording cut out about halfway through the broadcast, so I don’t know whether the discussion got around to the “heart” in the issue.
Setting aside the rhetoric, the debate, yes, even the research (temporarily), what is the starting point for making a difference? These are students’ lives we are talking about. No one would question the general connection between competency and earning power. No one would question the importance of education in the economic well-being of nations. No one would question that learning is the mechanism by which progress occurs. And yet, we question the strategic importance of the teacher’s capability?
This broadcast led me to reflect on my personal experience. My first role models (other than my parents)? Teachers. My favorite classes and later favorite subjects? The ones taught by my best teachers. My initial career goal? Become a teacher. My biggest disappointment in the lives of my kids? Not enough capable teachers.
And yet, I was one of those who left the teaching profession early in my career. It had nothing to do with the classroom, which I have always loved, and little to do with the students, who were the center of my existence. It had everything to do with the way that teachers were afforded plenty of blame, plenty of uninformed criticism, and little respect. I told myself I could always go back, since I was “permanently certified.” But I didn’t.
If the grant can accelerate the return of talented students to the ranks of capable teachers, I believe that measures of success will demonstrate that capable teachers do make a difference. And perhaps, long-term, more of our citizens will remember how important their best teachers were in their own lives. When that happens, perhaps our politicians, regardless of party, will be more comfortable supporting the most important investment that any nation can make in its own citizens.
Also on the website is a link to MPR’s January 14 Morning Show, featuring Susan Heegard, the Foundation’s VP and Educational Achievement Team Leader. Both the broadcast and the website feature a solid research base for the decision to spend the money on preparing and supporting teachers. As a former teacher who did get great training, I think that the grant is a great opportunity to make a difference, and that the Bush Foundation has a well-thought out approach to finding some leverage in the system.
Listening to the broadcast, though, I was struck by the journalists’ singular appeal to abstract reasoning and the lack of any reference to personal experience. Unfortunately, the recording cut out about halfway through the broadcast, so I don’t know whether the discussion got around to the “heart” in the issue.
Setting aside the rhetoric, the debate, yes, even the research (temporarily), what is the starting point for making a difference? These are students’ lives we are talking about. No one would question the general connection between competency and earning power. No one would question the importance of education in the economic well-being of nations. No one would question that learning is the mechanism by which progress occurs. And yet, we question the strategic importance of the teacher’s capability?
This broadcast led me to reflect on my personal experience. My first role models (other than my parents)? Teachers. My favorite classes and later favorite subjects? The ones taught by my best teachers. My initial career goal? Become a teacher. My biggest disappointment in the lives of my kids? Not enough capable teachers.
And yet, I was one of those who left the teaching profession early in my career. It had nothing to do with the classroom, which I have always loved, and little to do with the students, who were the center of my existence. It had everything to do with the way that teachers were afforded plenty of blame, plenty of uninformed criticism, and little respect. I told myself I could always go back, since I was “permanently certified.” But I didn’t.
If the grant can accelerate the return of talented students to the ranks of capable teachers, I believe that measures of success will demonstrate that capable teachers do make a difference. And perhaps, long-term, more of our citizens will remember how important their best teachers were in their own lives. When that happens, perhaps our politicians, regardless of party, will be more comfortable supporting the most important investment that any nation can make in its own citizens.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
