So where do you think you got it from?

I had finally put together a plan I was comfortable with to get on a plane to visit my 92-year-old father in Florida. Focusing on keeping both of us safe, I researched masks, upgraded my non-stop flight seat, planned for a place to quarantine, and secured a rental near the retirement home where he lives for a few weeks so that I would have many opportunities to visit the place, which is mostly on lockdown. I communicated my plan to others, inviting their thoughts and opinions. And at the last minute, I decided to take a COVID test offered by my employer, a measure meant to further ensure my father’s safety as well as mine.

Navigating the airport was far worse than I had imagined. American Airlines had set up a bullpen-style check-in and baggage drop, and there were so many people that the line wound outside the area and into pedestrian traffic. Signs suggested social distancing, but there was no way not to infringe on others’ space. I admonished the man in front of me to pull his mask up from his chin. The woman behind me kept running into my bag, pushing it forward so she could stand closer to me. Even the kiosks, placed six feet apart, were set up in a way where passengers stood close to each other. No one was wiping down screens. The passageway from the kiosk to the baggage drop was thick with people.

Finally rid of my bag, I got to my gate. It was also overcrowded. There was no opportunity to sit away from others. Many passengers were doing their best to stand along the edges; others were sitting with masks down, eating food they had waited for in crowded lines.

COVID test results were to be posted within 24 hours. Forty minutes past the 24-hour point, I refreshed my email one last time before boarding my plane. Ding: my results were in. I had to work through three screens in order to finally click on COVID Test Results. The airline announced seating for first class passengers. And my eyes settled on the words on my phone, in red, that said positive. The trip was aborted.

Three hours later, after a frenzy of apologies and pleas and a long drive back home, I settled into my home office, mentally preparing my asymptomatic self to quarantine from my husband and the world for two weeks.

The responses from my employer, Pima County, and the Arizona Health Department were almost immediate, organized, and kind. I felt grateful that in spite of the dysfunction of our nation’s capitol around managing the pandemic, local resources were timely and helpful. Tracing felt painful: I was guilt-ridden by the idea that I was a carrier who may have infected other people. I notified my hairdresser, a neighbor who works out of her home, since she and I had spent an hour together (albeit masked) at close distance. An office mate was quarantined since we shared a not-so-well-ventilated space.  Any other contacts were deemed too short or too distanced to report.

I told a handful of people about my situation. The first question each time was “Where do you think you got it from?” Believe me, I had mentally traced every moment of my time over the previous two weeks. Once. Twice. Again and again. I had been, I would say, 90% careful. I wore a mask when walking through halls at work, set up a shared restroom routine I thought was safe. I limited my time in public. Besides the haircut and work, I had gone to the grocery store twice and Target once, both with short lists and limited exposure time. I kept wipes in the car and used them before and after each trip. I had a few guesses, but honestly, there was really no way to know where I had picked up the virus.

As I retraced my steps, I was acutely aware of the fact that my asymptomatic self had come into contact with many people. My view of the airport experience shifted from fear of contracting the virus to fear that I had spread it to others. And if I, someone who had been careful about my habits and movements, had stood in that bullpen with the virus in my body, surely there were others there, too.

My thoughts alternated between “someone gave me this” and “I gave this to someone.” Blame. Guilt. Shame. I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate those three words over the past few weeks. Each is a noun, and each is an action verb, too. Tracing felt kind of like a form of blame, but I knew it was a functional one that would be helpful to alert others of potential exposure either to me or from me. Feelings of guilt and shame were, well, heavy and difficult to bear.

While I had the virus, I had casual contact with a few people who were also positive. I started paying attention to their words, in emails and on social media, to learn more about their journeys and whether their feelings echoed mine. It turns out that feelings of guilt and shame are common among those of us who have tested positive. Remarks that insinuate blame seem more often to come from those who have not. And yet, neither manifestation is particularly useful as we move forward through a pandemic that is surging rather than regressing.

Which brings me full circle back to a leadership stone I—and many other leaders—have written about: the power of influence. Since contracting COVID-19 and walking through my relatively comfortable quarantine and symptoms, I have wrestled with how to use my influence to positively affect others’ actions. My 90% efforts were not enough to keep me from contracting the virus. I have watched as my workplace and our nation have continued forward, “being careful,” but still subjecting ourselves to potential virus spread. In one instance, I witnessed a communication from a leader telling her subordinates that if they acted irresponsibly and caught the virus, they must also take responsibility for the results of their behavior, including disciplinary action, all while continuing to insist on overall practices that may not keep them safe. This wasn’t a helpful message: it blamed rather than offered support and solutions. A leader should provide a positive path forward, especially in a crisis situation. Right now, my power of influence seems miniscule, and it makes me sad.

What you say and do as a leader are critical to your success. Putting aside blame and feelings of guilt and shame, you must communicate a message that is powerful enough to influence others’ behavior, in a way that makes them feel supported and safe. And then you must demonstrate the same behavior you are messaging. This pandemic continues to rage, and we must all be mindful of our own actions and feelings, as well as those of others. If there has ever been a time where empathy for each other is needed, it is now. Today, I hope sharing my story will remind people of their own power of influence and the power of empathy.

Small Mind, Big Opportunities: Leadership Stones in Challenging Times

When the Pandemic hit, I immediately started writing a series of blogs about what I had learned when leading through challenging times. I started several, and posted a few. I pride myself in my ability to respond to challenges, and I was eager to share in a systematic way what I had learned.

And then I posted nothing. For weeks, then months: no postings. Trying to regroup, I half-heartedly posted a Call to Action asking others to share their leadership stones, but I didn’t share the blog with others. I started a few blogs about living small and managing virtual collaboration, but did not finish them. I occasionally shared my learnings with people in the organization where I was working, but there was little interest in continuing the conversation.

Without a specific leadership role within which to act, I had few opportunities to continue developing stones, building my wall. I was living small, not only in my life, but inside my own mind.

I found myself complaining a lot… about national leadership, leadership in our membership organizations, my own place of employment. I will admit—none of it was particularly productive. I felt sidelined and sad—minimally productive and unmotivated.

And then, I had the opportunity to connected with a small group of leaders from across the country. We began Zooming regularly, talking about issues of concern, gathering our thoughts about how things might improve. A few individuals offered to organize our thoughts into a letter of sorts—one that articulated the opportunity that these challenging times afforded and the specific things we thought should happen. Together we wrote, edited, and rewrote, until we had a product ready to share.

The specifics about this exercise are not important to this blog. What is important is how it felt to go through the process of collaborating, strategizing, regrouping, and coming up with a product. And it reminded me again of how important gathering our pearls of wisdom and applying them to current circumstances is.

There were so many things about this group that spoke to me. We had all held leadership positions within our professional lives and had been active in membership organizations. We served on boards, held offices. Some of us had worked for the same organizations or in different positions during the same time periods. Our collective experience was rich and worth continuing to explore.

I have relearned the importance of collaboration during this time where we are seldom in the same room together. It is critical to reach out and connect both within and outside of one’s current circumstances. And I have found that connecting with those with whom I would not typically cross paths has been particularly effective.

Here’s the leadership stone: Without connections, we become stuck in our own heads. It’s lonely there. Move past the smallness of your mind and reach out to others. Use the time to reconnect, share, and expand your mind. Work on a project together. Invite others to join. Today’s virtual environment affords us endless opportunities to connect. Choose what works for you.

Sharing your Leadership Stones: A Call to Action

When I first set out to be a blogger, I wasn’t sure where to start. My head was exploding with writing material—lessons from being an educator, thoughts on books I had read, perspectives from my many years as a leader. When I began using the New England wall concept to organize my thoughts, everything came together. I discovered that the things I had learned could be organized into something that was functional and that I could share with others.

Preparing for a speaking gig in New Hampshire last fall, I began to realize that the actual process of forming and placing leadership stones was a powerful tool in and of itself and that  I needed to share with others. It’s a simple concept, really—a way to bring form to what we learn in a way that makes it useful.

Here is the method, simply stated as a metaphor.

A New England wall is made up of stones recovered from land being prepared for planting. The recovered stones differ in shape and size, but when collected and arranged together, they become something that is purposeful: a wall that defines, contains, protects.

Years of reading, learning, working, and connecting with others have left me with a wealth of leadership ideas—stones for a metaphorical wall, if you will-- that I am excited to share with others. The process of gathering these ideas into a cohesive form in itself has been enriching in and of itself. Exploring how those experiences and pieces of information fit together (as I build my New England wall) keeps me growing as a leader. And as I add new stones, I sometimes find that I need to rearrange others to accommodate new learnings.  My leadership wall is ever-changing and evidence of my own personal growth.

I am acutely aware that my colleagues and friends possess wisdom that needs to be shared. At the conference session I led last fall, I shared some examples of “stones” I had collected and asked the attendees to share some of their own. Nearly everyone participated, and without exception, their responses were thoughtful, creative, and diverse. I was in awe of the collective wisdom in that small room, and I walked away thinking that there was a need for this kind of sharing.

As any generation of leaders passes the torch to the next, there is a real need for opportunities to share our experiences and the things we have learned. I am writing this blog as a call to action for my fellow leaders to write down and share some of the leadership stones they have learned through the years.

This is an open invitation to share: What are your leadership stones? What stories can you tell—of great leadership examples that should be followed, as well as those where you’ve learned what not to do? Please email me your stories at dorinda@dorindarife.com and I will compile lessons learned and share them through my website. Aim for, say, no more than 500 words. I look forward to hearing and learning from you—and the opportunity to share your New England wall stones with our community.

Adults Behaving Badly

Lately I’ve seen a number of social media posts showing videos of people behaving badly—in a supermarket, parking lot, or other public place. The behavior quickly becomes public way beyond typical viewership. Those who post and watch these videos typically express strong opinions about their contents. Some agree that the filmed behavior is “bad;” some applaud the person’s audacity. Adult behavior in public places—its origin and effect—is the topic of this blog.

One can’t simply observe a single moment in time and judge a person by that behavior; and yet that’s what we do. I’ve long wondered why adult behavior that is not tolerated among children in schools is so prevalent in our society, particularly today when the details of our day-to-day lives have been turned upside down. What happens between school years and adulthood that results in rules of safety and decency being disregarded by so many?

When I lived in Kentucky and traveled 25 miles to and from work each day, I was startled by the driving behavior of my fellow commuters. What I had thought were generally accepted cultural norms were simply not followed. People did not use turn signals. Tailgating was common. Large pickup trucks overtook my small sedan, flashing lights and riding my bumper, even when I was already traveling well over the speed limit. I was often afraid for my safety.

I often wondered during those commutes what it was about humans that encouraged them to disobey rules meant to keep them and others safe. And I wondered what their first grade teachers would think of their adult behavior.

I remember participating in activities and situations in elementary school that were meant to help me understand how to behave when I was with others. Some lessons were quickly learned. (Don’t call your fifth grade teacher by his first name, even if you’ve just learned it and are anxious to share it with others.) Others were harder to grasp. (Stealing a beach ball from your teacher’s stash of prizes to impress your friends doesn’t ensure their friendship. And isn’t stealing wrong anyway?) My tendency to talk too much and blurt things out was met with quiet disappointment by one teacher; his public recognition of “star workers” provided me with an incentive to work on my own self control.

What is it, then, that encourages us to behave badly when there isn’t a teacher in the room? It seems that getting away with something without repercussions is highly motivating to many of us. But, just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you should do it.

Elected lawmakers, supervisors at our places of work, teachers, and other public figures are meant to help us continue to present ourselves as good citizens into and beyond adulthood. Some say that a liberal arts education is meant to provide us with decision-making skills that will enable us to be good citizens. Places of worship provide foundational information to help their members lead model lives.

With so many resources available to us, exactly why does an adult throw items out of her shopping cart around the store in response to being asked to wear a mask? And what compels us to capture that behavior on video and share it with others?

My initial thought is that we are constantly looking for information that justifies our own behavior and approach to life. One politician publicly name-calls prominent figures and bullies others. He is cheered on for this behavior, revered by some for “speaking his mind.” Driving large vehicles aggressively perhaps makes a person feel more powerful in a world where they feel powerless. In my elementary school or junior high, a person behaving in these ways would be sent to the principal’s office or disciplined in some other way. But today we observe, offer an opinion about the behavior publicly or privately, and move on 

I try to offer a solution to a problem I have presented in each blog I write. The problem I am outlining here, though, stymies me. I suspect that many people do not see the behaviors I am describing as a problem. When I mentioned the turn signal and aggression issue to my work colleagues, many dismissed it as “just the way it is here.” Name calling confirms to others that the person is in fact what we suspect. Someone else is doing our thinking for us in these situations, and we are (supposedly)_fine with that. But how does that help make the world a better place?

My solution for today is to write about what I see and hear. In doing so, I am trying to make sense of it. Sometimes I observe those whose views I do not understand or share by reading what they post on social media. I read opinion columns in newspapers. I talk to people and listen to their viewpoints. I want to understand what constitutes being a good citizen, one who respects her country and her fellow citizens, but continues to educate herself and encourage change where it is needed.

A former student of mine, a beautiful, bright, and independent woman in her 30s, posted this phrase on social media: Bend and consider. I have written about “considering” in past blogs; it is a tool I use every day to inform my behavior. But bend and consider is different. It requires movement (and therefore effort) to consider something in its entirety. What did I learn in school that I should be applying to my adult life? I use my turn signal when I drive. I don’t steal from others. I ask someone in trouble if they need help rather than thrusting it upon them.

“Bad” behavior needs to be put into context, but it also needs to be viewed for what it does to others. Today that is what I will bend and consider.  

Ask. Listen. Discuss. Crisis Management Part 2

A meme was circulated recently in which contradictory bits of information on what to do during the COVID-19 pandemic were listed side by side. I’m not sure whether it was meant as a joke or if it was borne from individuals’ relative frustration about the barrage of information circulating through social and news media. But it reminded me of school administration, my career of many years.

The sheer volume of information available to us today makes it more challenging than ever to make a clean decision about anything. And in a crisis situation, collecting, evaluating, and responding to information is a critical skill for a leader to have. And it is the second step a leader takes to manage a situation.

(Presenting a calm exterior while taking hold of a situation is number one, as discussed in The Sky is Falling.)

 At one of the schools I led, we spent many hours developing protocols for emergency situations. We had a full response team, including many managers and upper administrators, a COO, HR, a nursing staff, a public relations manager, and a full communications staff. Depending on the situation, representatives were gathered to address crises as they occurred.

 Sometimes things went more smoothly than others. Response to extreme weather, for example, became routine because it was a relatively frequent occurrence. But when new challenges presented themselves, our responses varied. Situations where adequate information was gathered were handled relatively well. Scattered information gathering resulted in frustration and chaos. Quickly evolving situations—and sometimes with contradictory information—made it even worse.

Early on in a crisis situation, forming the right questions is critical. What exactly happened? What should our response be? And what might happen next? In the case of the Boston Marathon bombings, our first question was “What happened?” followed quickly by “Are our people okay?” The marathon routinely serves as a platform for runners to fundraise for various charities; in turn the runner has a spot in the race. That year, the non-profit I worked for had six marathoners running. Several of us were set up at mile 20, ready to cheer on individuals as they passed us by. When we noted that the field of runners had trickled down to only a few, and our app-trackers showed no runner moving forward, we knew something was wrong.

My colleagues and I reached out individually to our personal resources to get more information. It happened that my daughter was cheering on some friends at about the 25-mile marker, so I quickly called her for information. Some kind of explosion had occurred, she said, at around mile 26. From where she stood, runners and spectators were being turned away, the racecourse closed.

What happened next was a collective attempt to communicate with each runner, followed by a phone meeting between school leaders to determine if additional dangers existed. There’s much more to this story, but I can tell you that in the hours that followed the bombings, our leaders responded efficiently and effectively, gathering information and planning their response.

The information-gathering step is one of the most important for a leader to manage. To learn what one needs to know, a leader should reach out to others to get the full picture. Asking trusted colleagues and other sources whose expertise you are familiar with will yield more accurate and helpful information to assist you in determining next steps. ASK. LISTEN. DISCUSS. It’s so important that you don’t gather and assess information in a vacuum; multiple perspectives and collective information yield more informed actions and decisions.

And when you are gathering information, once is not enough. You need to check in, cast a wider net for perspectives, check and recheck facts, ask, listen and discuss again. If you depend too much on initial information, the quality of your decisions and actions will be low because the situation will have evolved beyond that initial circumstance.

It’s too easy to become overwhelmed by information, especially in a rapidly changing emergency situation. Keep calm, and carry on gathering and evaluating the information as it rolls in.