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.

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.

The Sky is Falling!

It seems that the world’s attention is on COVID-19. We receive a daily barrage of information, directives, and perspectives on how best to manage this new reality of shelter-in-place. Watching local, regional and national leadership try to manage the situation reminds me of the times I have faced challenges in the school environment.

The challenges have run the gamut. While I was in Boston, we negotiated a gutted endowment by making major cuts to programs and personnel. We purchased protective gear in order to care for children and staff who might contract H1N1. We implemented a boil-water order in response to a contaminated drinking water source. We confronted children’s deaths, extended staff and family supports. We faced the reality of the Boston Marathon bombings, and sheltered in place when one of the perpetrators escaped to a place mere blocks from campus.

Leadership in these situations requires many things, but first and foremost, it requires calm. It requires the leader to learn as much as she can about a situation before she reacts to it. It requires precise communication that not only shares facts and potential solutions, but is reassuring to staff, students, and families. And it requires an outward appearance that is poised, positive and focused.

One of my favorite children’s stories was about the chick that was hit in the head by something while taking a walk around the farm. Chicken Little immediately assumed that what had happened to him was monumental, when in fact it was an acorn that fell from a tree and hit his head. As the story goes, he ran around the farmyard shouting, “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” creating hysteria in those who listened to him.

I’ve worked with a lot of Chicken Littles in my leadership career, ones who take a panicked or fatalist stance whenever things are unknown or seemingly insurmountable.  Whether the situation is real or perceived, my reaction is typically the same. Stay calm. Question. Plan. Communicate. Implement.

Why is “stay calm” at the top of this list? The answer is simple, if often overlooked. When a leader responds to a challenge in a hyper or panicked way, she shifts attention away from the problem and onto herself. And that shift neither supports nor inspires onlookers.

I was at a regularly scheduled meeting once where the leader had spent a good deal of the day responding to a critical shift in events. He presented his scattered self to the meeting attendees in full view, talking about how distracted he was by the issue and what he was going to do to address his own self-comfort in order to get through it. Needless to say, the meeting was unproductive. Even attempts by attendees to help the leader address the critical issue were met with mild hysteria. The leader was so wrapped up in his own feelings that he could not hear.

Presenting a calm self is the first and most important thing a leader should do when confronting a tough situation. You might ask, “but what if I am not feeling calm? What if I am scattered like the person in your story?”

I am not saying you won’t be flustered or anxious or scattered. I’m saying that regardless of what is going on in your head, you need to present a calm and focused outer self.

When my mother was dying, I looked over at my dad, who was moving calmly from one task to the next. I commented on his calm. He said, “I’m like a missile: focused and ignited on the outside, exploding on the inside.” (My father launched missiles as part of his career in the Air Force.) Another way I’ve heard this described is being like a duck: gliding across the water while its feet are moving frantically underneath.

Whether you’re a missile or a duck, the point is that an effective leader is one who focuses not on herself, but on the problem and the people she supports during a time of crisis. Call on a mentor or a friend to help you self manage, and thoughtfully gather the colleagues you need to help you work toward solving the problem at hand.

If the sky really is falling, you’ll be prepared. And you’ll impart that sense of preparedness to those you lead.

Skipping Steps

Ringo Starr said it best: “If you wanna play the blues, you gotta pay your dues. And you know it don’t come easy.”

What does this mean for today’s budding leaders? In a nutshell: becoming a successful leader means that you must put in time and effort. It takes GRIT to be successful. There’s no getting around it—in a field where the pool of leadership candidates is small, and training and support are limited, emerging leaders need to make the extra effort to seek out mentors and other supporters to assist them in their quest for excellence.

We often look for newness when we are searching for just the right leader to create change in an organization. We are looking for a fresh perspective and a contemporary skill set. But that risks loss of valuable institutional knowledge. During a recent conversation with a young leader at a nonprofit, he remarked that “admittedly, the staff we are attracting are green”—this after teachers he perceived as rigid and unable to cope with change had left in droves. I thought it was an interesting admission—he had been actively encouraging existing staff to get on board with his ideas and intentions, but seemed content that seasoned staff had found the door and were replaced by younger and less experienced ones.

The idea of turnover during times of change is a blog topic in itself, but today’s commentary is about leadership progression—climbing the ladder, if you will, to positions with more authority and corresponding responsibility, in your own organization or one you have moved to.

My own progression along the leadership continuum was pretty straightforward. After an undergrad experience where I was tapped for various leadership roles, from resident assistant to sorority president to president of the Optometry Club, I arrived at my first teaching position in a rural high school with incredible energy and enthusiasm. I actually taught a class on leadership and ran the school paper. After completing my graduate studies, I embarked on a career as a teacher for students who were blind or visually impaired and worked as an itinerant teacher in a variety of districts. Initially, when someone tapped me on the shoulder to move to a supervisory role, I turned the idea over in my head and answered with a firm “no.”

But colleagues and friends continued to urge me to assume a leadership position, and I became first a supervising teacher and then interim Principal for a School for the Blind. By that time, I was pretty sold on the idea that my many years in the trenches would give me a unique perspective compared to other leaders without that experience.

 In that role, I flourished. The staff I inherited was so in need of someone to listen to, acknowledge, and support their intentions to do what was best for the children they served that I became their best advocate. Together we moved the school forward and built a student population that received an education focused on their unique needs. I participated in a couple of book groups around leadership and developed a respectable group of mentors and colleagues. And then… I was tapped on the shoulder once again to lead another school and its related programs through the recession. During that time, I was able to focus on some of my own special interests: transition and employment.

Unfortunately, politics, personality, and bad timing led me to resign from that position. I sought work on the national level. The Vice President position I landed with a national non-profit allowed me to learn a new skillset in a completely different environment. Today, I am exploring a variety of consulting positions where I could apply my abilities as a researcher, content expert, and systems-thinker.

Why share my personal experiences in this blog? Because my own personal leadership journey is one example of how leaders move along in the very small, specific, and elite world of blindness and visual impairment and sometimes find themselves in a professional role that challenges their ideals, expertise, and skillset.

I remember a conversation someone who had left a position I was considering. “If you’re looking to climb the superintendent ladder,” he said, “this is not the one I would recommend.” I was stunned. There’s a superintendent ladder, I thought? Who knew? I’m just interested in filling a position where I can apply my experience as a TVI and COMS to address the challenges of school administration.

In fact, the position I was seeking involved moving from managing 50 FTEs and $10,000 in discretionary funds to a position where I would be in charge of 450 employees and a $40,000,000 budget. Whoosh. How did I think I could manage such a great leap? What the heck was I doing? Who would help me make this leap? I was fortunate to have great support from colleagues around me, but I eventually sought an executive coach to give me honest feedback and help develop my skills. s

So this is my point. If you are considering a new leadership position or looking to lead an organization that is bigger or more complex than the one you currently serve, PAY ATTENTION.

Ask yourself:

·      Are you up for the challenge this new position will present?

·      Is there a position that might be a better fit for you where you can learn new skills that will prepare you for a future leadership position?

·      How will you manage the energy level this new position requires? Are there resources you can call upon to help you meet the expectations of the job?

·      Whom might you seek out as a mentor or sounding board when you take on a position that is different or more challenging than your previous role?

·      What are you good at? Whom will you need to call on to complement your current skills, support areas where you are not as strong, and candidly offer feedback to help you to grow as a leader?

This third bullet point is perhaps the most important. Let’s say you have climbed the ladder quickly, skipping over positions that might have taught you new skills and otherwise left you with deficits in your leadership abilities. What can you do to assure your success in your new role? Finding a leadership coach or mentor who is by your side as you transition is critical to your success. You will need to be able to look critically at your role and recognize where your deficits and inexperience limit you. You will need to be reading and writing in order to continue building on your previous leadership experiences and seek honest feedback about how your efforts are perceived. You will need to have someone – or someones—to talk to about all of this.

Above all, recognize that you have room to grow, and work hard to develop your skills while you are carrying out the role. … and you will likely need help to achieve leadership excellence.

One way or another, you gotta pay your dues.

A Leadership Stone for the New Year: Consider

I had all but given up on my one-word mantra: “consider.” Considering new opportunities had transported me into situations that were exhilarating, tough, and full of learnings. It had moved me from Colorado to Arizona to Massachusetts to Kentucky. It was the word I held onto when my dream shattered or I fell short of my goal. It had expanded my life in ways I hadn’t imagined when I was first licensed as a teacher in 1982. I had even planned to have the word tattooed on my wrist, a reminder of its power in my life.

Over time, however, I began to grow weary of the transitions, the frustrations and even anguish of trying new things. I kept picking myself up, learning from my mistakes, reveling in what I had achieved because I had considered, but feeling more defeated than refueled. I made the decision to step down from leadership and find a new way

I was even glad I hadn’t gotten that tattoo—considering new opportunities and challenges had left me deflated and, it seemed, alone.

Then I saw something on Facebook from an acquaintance whose viewpoints often differ from my own. It was a cut-paste that made fun of political correctness and its extremes. It ended with a statement: “This is what this country has become.”

Instead of scrolling past and keeping my tongue, I responded with this:

“When someone points out an issue to you, consider it. Turn it over in your hand and see if it speaks truth to you. If it does, consider changes you might make. If it does not, set it aside and continue on your way.”

In the moment those words came to me, I realized I was not done with the mantra that had propelled me through life for so long. The wisdom it holds is as strong as ever--I have just applied it in a different way.

In 2020, I will continue to consider, and I hope you will too. Without the power of considering something that is initially foreign to us, women wouldn’t have the right to vote, slavery would not have been abolished, and my leadership journey would have been brief. I am grateful for all I have experienced simply by considering.