Friends and Tough Questions
I tweeted Friday night that I enjoyed having dinner with members of the 2008 All-Iowa Cohort. This tight-knit group of school leaders had again gathered to celebrate their graduation.
I learned a few things that I didn't know while I had them in class, which is probably a good thing for everyone. I also learned that in one of my earlier posts I unintentionally spilled the beans about a pregnancy in the group. This apparently caused a little disappointment among some who expected to hear this great news from a source other than The Balcony View. Hmmm. And I thought no one was reading.
As I listened to them banter and tease each other, I remembered how they challenged and pushed each other as students. After just a few weeks together, it became easy to anticipate the positions certain members of the cohort were going to take on particular issues. Exploring, unpacking, questioning, and reevaluating those strongly held beliefs became an important part of the experience.
And that got me thinking about something I heard Dr. Bill Callahan, former Dean of the UNI College of Education, say in a doctoral class one time. We were discussing openness and honest communication when someone said, "I have good friends who can tell me anything." Bill didn't disagree with the point and as I remember, congratulated the person for having such good friends.
Then he pointed out something I'd never really thought of before. He acknowledged that many of us have a list of folks who make our "Good Friends List." We share history, common interests, maybe the same sense of humor, etc. Bill challenged us to think of how many of those folks would honestly and directly challenge us if and when they thought we were really out of bounds, off track, or screwing up. How many would be truly willing to tell us things they know we wouldn't want to hear? Then he said, "Often times, my friends are my friends because they say nice things to me."
I've thought a lot about that point on and off over the years. It's such a good one for leaders. We know how lonely leadership can be. I think it was Harry Truman who referred to the White House as "the prison." New principals talk often about how lonely they find their positions. And that professional isolation often breeds a lack of communication, or at least not enough honest communication about the things that matter most.
How many of us have invested the time to cultivate relationships in which our friends (or associates) will not only forward us a joke they know we'll like but will also come at us with the awkward, unvarnished, straight forward truth we so need to hear?
How many will instead keep it light and stick to the comfortable stuff? How many will tell me, if I ask? How many of us have chosen to keep things on the " comfortable friendly level" and shied away from seeking awkward but clarifying conversations about what we're doing, how, and why? As leaders, we ought to be asking ourselves these questions.
I hope the fun crew I had dinner with Friday night will keep it up. I'm thinking they will.
I learned a few things that I didn't know while I had them in class, which is probably a good thing for everyone. I also learned that in one of my earlier posts I unintentionally spilled the beans about a pregnancy in the group. This apparently caused a little disappointment among some who expected to hear this great news from a source other than The Balcony View. Hmmm. And I thought no one was reading.
As I listened to them banter and tease each other, I remembered how they challenged and pushed each other as students. After just a few weeks together, it became easy to anticipate the positions certain members of the cohort were going to take on particular issues. Exploring, unpacking, questioning, and reevaluating those strongly held beliefs became an important part of the experience.
And that got me thinking about something I heard Dr. Bill Callahan, former Dean of the UNI College of Education, say in a doctoral class one time. We were discussing openness and honest communication when someone said, "I have good friends who can tell me anything." Bill didn't disagree with the point and as I remember, congratulated the person for having such good friends.
Then he pointed out something I'd never really thought of before. He acknowledged that many of us have a list of folks who make our "Good Friends List." We share history, common interests, maybe the same sense of humor, etc. Bill challenged us to think of how many of those folks would honestly and directly challenge us if and when they thought we were really out of bounds, off track, or screwing up. How many would be truly willing to tell us things they know we wouldn't want to hear? Then he said, "Often times, my friends are my friends because they say nice things to me."
I've thought a lot about that point on and off over the years. It's such a good one for leaders. We know how lonely leadership can be. I think it was Harry Truman who referred to the White House as "the prison." New principals talk often about how lonely they find their positions. And that professional isolation often breeds a lack of communication, or at least not enough honest communication about the things that matter most.
How many of us have invested the time to cultivate relationships in which our friends (or associates) will not only forward us a joke they know we'll like but will also come at us with the awkward, unvarnished, straight forward truth we so need to hear?
How many will instead keep it light and stick to the comfortable stuff? How many will tell me, if I ask? How many of us have chosen to keep things on the " comfortable friendly level" and shied away from seeking awkward but clarifying conversations about what we're doing, how, and why? As leaders, we ought to be asking ourselves these questions.
I hope the fun crew I had dinner with Friday night will keep it up. I'm thinking they will.
Being a principal did effect my ability to form deeper, closer friendships; particularly with those on the faculty. But I also found that I couldn't be as open with my wife, because certain aspects of the job I felt that I couldn't share with her. All contributed to the isolation of being a principal. Don't miss that aspect of the job.
ReplyDeleteNo doubt Tom. I think too few principals spend time thinking about this...the isolation and also communicating with spouse/significant other that there are some things that I'm not going to share...somethings that the spouse should not know. This is a hard aspect for programs to teach, as well.
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