Heads Speak for Themselves, June 2012 Installment
Billy Handmaker, Head of School, Bosque School (NM)
Like other Heads of School, I think about leadership constantly. Whether the thoughts are generated by conversations with members of our administrative team about new initiatives we are contemplating, grappling with a difficult decision that I know will alienate at least one of our constituencies, or planning for an annual Board of Trustees retreat, we continually face questions around our philosophy, style, and beliefs about leadership. It comes with the territory, and we welcome these discussions. However, all too often, our musings on this topic are based on a crisis that requires an immediate resolution; consequently, we have little time to dissect or reflect critically on how we lead or how it reflects who we are as people.
As is true with other colleagues, I look to biographies for inspiration and lessons that may be applicable to the work we do. Just recently, I spoke to our students about some lessons we can learn from Eric Foner’s book, The Fiery Trial: Abraham Lincoln and American Slavery. In this Pulitzer-winning biography, Foner analyzes the evolution in Lincoln’s views toward “the peculiar institution” of slavery and African-Americans. As Foner traces the change in Lincoln’s attitudes about abolition, he points out, on the book’s final page, what may have been our 16th President’s greatest trait: “Lincoln did not enter the White House expecting to preside over the destruction of slavery. A powerful combination of events, as we have seen, propelled him down the road to emancipation and then to a reconsideration of the place blacks would occupy in a post-slavery America. Of course, the unprecedented crisis in which, as one member of Congress put it, ‘the events of an entire century transpire in a year,’ made change the order of the day. Yet as the presidency of his successor demonstrated, not all men placed in a similar situation possessed the capacity for growth, the essence of Lincoln’s greatness. ‘I think we have reason to thank God for Abraham Lincoln,’ the abolitionist Lydia Maria Child wrote one week before his death. ‘With all his deficiencies, it must be admitted that he has grown continuously; and considering how slavery had weakened and perverted the moral sense of the whole county, it was great good luck to have the people elect a man who was willing to grow.’"
In this first year serving as head of a second school, I feel as if I have been given a shot at redemption for the mistakes I made during my first headship which, even though it went well for fifteen years, still had some regrets. Starting over has been a shot in the arm professionally and a joy personally. However, a requirement for doing well has been a willingness to learn from earlier experiences, so that when a similar situation occurs, I don’t make the same mistake twice. In a startling scene from a Phillip Caputo novel, Horn of Africa, a character finds himself facing a situation, remarkably similar to one that occurred earlier in the book, that has haunted him all of his life. The reader gasps and wonders whether the character will redeem himself or fall victim to the temptation to repeat the behavior that caused the mistake in the first place. All too often, we are confronted with a situation that we have dealt with before, but we don’t have time to apply whatever lessons we could have taken from the previous instance. Maybe we need to keep a journal filled with thoughts on how we will respond if given a second chance.
The fourth volume in Robert Caro’s monumental biography of Lyndon Baines Johnson, The Passage of Power, like the other three volumes, contains a myriad of lessons for leaders. Particularly compelling are the descriptions of Johnson’s attempts to navigate between a desire to establish his own legitimacy as president following his predecessor’s assassination and his understanding that he needed to be sensitive to the shocked Kennedy family. While all of his instincts should have led Johnson to follow his innate tendency to charge ahead, consequences be damned, (which he did in some cases during those days), he was able to maintain a posture of reserve and patience during this critical transition. Similarly, in our roles, when others expect us to make quick, forceful decisions, as we so often need to do, and we also feel the need to establish our leadership credentials, we may neglect to look at the elements in a situation that would suggest slowing down and exercising prudence. The button on my desk that says, “Patience is such a waste of time” may be humorous, but we heed its advice at our own peril.
Perhaps one of the best metaphors for leadership comes from a scene I witnessed early one morning in a small river town in China back in the 1980’s. As I strolled along the fog-shrouded riverfront before dawn, I observed the elderly villagers practicing their tai-chi routines in a slow, mesmerizing routine. This centuries-old martial art emphasizes balance as the practitioner makes gradual forward and backward movements, essentially alternating between advancing and retreating. Attacks on one’s body are defused by slowly leaning back but not compromising one’s position while initiating contact entails a series of well-planned and considered forward steps. As in our leadership jobs, there are times to relax and give up today’s battle for the long-term good or goal: keeping our eyes on the prize. On the other hand, though, there will be times when we need to go forward, but only after looking at all of the options available to us. Next to the button on patience on my desk is a rock with one word engraved on it: balance.
As we head into the summer and perhaps have more time to reflect on our own leadership, as well as lessons we can learn from others, may we have the willingness to grow like Lincoln, the strategic thinking of LBJ in those four days after Dallas (not always one of his greatest personality traits), and the wisdom of those tai chi masters by that river in China.
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