Leading from the Middle

Viviane Hagner (see Part 1) elaborated on her response: “Even in symphonies (with conductors, the players) need to talk with each other.” Her words are a good lead-in to Part 2 of the "Maestro Complex."

Davidson, in his article “What Does a Conductor Do?” suggests that leadership styles among conductors are changing. As implied in Ms. Hagner’s quote, he claims that there is a perceptible shift for more freedom (and power) for players.
This change is due more to unionization of musicians than to conductors “letting go” of their usual tight grip on the reins. A tyrannical conductor can still publicly humiliate a musician, but he’ll pay a price. The modern orchestra (a few are self-managed) has some say over which conductors get asked back.
Still, Davidson’s preferred way of leading leans to the traditional conductor, the self-sufficient and all-knowing maestro. I am not suggesting Davidson turns into an intolerant leader. Rather, he acts on the received tradition that the conductor’s job is to figure out the music and to lead it. Input from the musicians is incidental; it is not pursued. After all, as Davidson says, “(a) good conductor is a parent who’s always ready and always right.” In other words, musicians are children in need of guidance/direction.
While most of us think it is desirable to share decision-making, when we become THE boss, our go-to way of leading, our intuitive impulse is to centralize decisions, to go it alone - just like Davidson did - regardless of evidence that collaborating with others usually results in better decisions. (No, seeking advice from an inner circle of like-minded managers is not the same as talking to the people doing the work.) It takes a deliberate effort to ask for the workers’ advice and opinion. Doing so (letting others participate) can be seen by some as weakness. I am reminded of a study in a recent book, Sway. The authors maintain that dissent – a normal part of democracy - is essential to limiting our wrong-headedness. To get honest dissent, the boss has to establish a climate that permits, even empowers, dissent. Airlines now train cockpit crews in how to “block” – the term for getting in the way of irrational behavior - when a safety rule may be violated. Not only does dissent improve decision-making it can also save lives.
Corporate leaders, because they rarely allow others to see how they lead, are under far less scrutiny than are conductors (or surgeons or airline pilots). Inferior performance in an organization can be hidden for years or, if business is good, an inferior leader can take credit for the work of effective followers. Some corporate leaders may fantasize that they, alone, make the difference. I recall a friend’s boss who often spoke at professional meetings and encouraged collaboration and risk taking, innovation and experimentation. Back home, my friend learned to her dismay, that her boss talked the game but then punished anyone who took him up on it. If you experimented, innovated, collaborated with others then the boss would undercut your efforts, maybe even encourage you to leave. This boss was not about to relinquish control, and the organization suffered. Of course the damage (unlike a failed public musical performance) caused by this boss is not easily perceived by higher ups.

Early on in my career, I certainly thought it was up to me to make decisions and to do so with minimal input from staff. As I matured, I suffered less from Davidson's Maestro Complex (the need to justify my higher salary and to exhibit my “superior” knowledge). When I turned to the staff for help, we achieved our goals and higher productivity. It was really very simple, I had no illusions about my expertise, so I had to let go and allow staff to collaborate. Not that I was detached; I was an active participant in work meetings and I did ask good questions. I knew the type of followers I wanted and was active in recruiting them. And, I was very good at finding the best people (both staff and managers) and allowing them freedom to get the job done. My “hands off” approach worked well for about five years. Then because of organizational shifts we started to bog down once again, returning to the hierarchy in structure and behavior. My way of leading now ran counter to what the organization wanted and, as I have already said, inefficiencies can be easily rationalized and covered up. Finally, when my boss departed, I lost the necessary support and my days were numbered.

For those five golden years I did not have to justify my presence – staff relished their freedom (and saw me as the source of that freedom) and my boss supported me. Insecure conductors (and managers) "gesticulate, point, urge, and cajole" – they micromanage. For example, one of the conductors coaching Davidson in one session “demonstrated for a percussionist how to get the right sound on the triangle, corrected a bowing in the violin part, sang the bassoon line, and pointed out a subtle harmonic shift—all without glancing at the score.” For Davidson the key point here is the conductor’s phenomenal memory. Well, a good memory is important, but this is micromanaging. Why not let the musician make the mistake and figure it out; why not let them “lead” themselves and make decisions relevant to the work they do.

Conductors are essential for facilitating communication in large orchestras.

Caption: Karel Mark Chichon
Some conductors, like Karel Mark Chichon, whom I have seen perform a half dozen times with the Latvian National Symphony, have great gifts. Maestros, like Chichon, can take a very good orchestra and make it great. They understand the composer’s meaning, articulate it, and somehow inspire musicians to reach high levels of performance. I doubt there is much micromanaging (or ass-kicking, to put it crudely) by this superb leader; the true maestro works at the conceptual level, eliciting a particular sound from the musicians, the workers. It is up to the players to rise to the occasion, to meet the conductor at the mountain top and share in the joy of the music! The conductor trusts the musicians and the musicians trust the conductor. This shared trust spurs everyone to higher and higher levels of performance. That’s the best kind of leadership: followers and leader interacting and producing something very good.
Interestingly, Davidson does note, among other clues, his mentor’s advice (very much like a manager’s “letting go”) for getting through a dicey part in the score:
“Just beat clearly and they’ll take care of it.”
However, Davidson qualifies this counsel: “That’s a useful though not universal commandment: Do Less.”
Davidson’s coaches give him additional insights about leading: One tells a conducting student not to lean toward the players, (hectoring them) instead “to set aside the baton, close his eyes, and turn his back to the orchestra so that he’ll listen more and insist less.” No micromanaging there.
Then, Davidson heard some great advice from Bernard Haitink, the Dutch maestro during his visit to Juilliard. Observing a student rehearsal, Haitnik cautions: “The musicians are very busy with playing.... “You (the conductor) should not distract them!” Definitely no micromanaging there!
Davidson further reinforces the notion of letting the musicians lead with this quote from a principal cellist: “It’s amazing how beautifully we play when we don’t know what the hell the guy on the podium is doing.”
In spite of these several bits of leadership wisdom, Davidson is anxious about how he will lead the student orchestra through a difficult part of the overture. He calls it the No, really passage. Worried for several days, he hopes for the best that somehow something will come to him.
Here he describes how he did in his conducting debut:
“I make plenty of flubs: I scramble the beat, forget a cue, confuse the players once or twice. The Juilliard students respond with sensitivity and respect, and a desire to play as beautifully as I will let them.” And, his mentor offers him high praise for how he conducted the No, really.
Why did Davidson not ask the student musicians for help or simply let them play through the No, really? To collaborate with them and figure it out. Davidson did well, but I am left with a What if? What if he and the students had talked about the No, really?
------------
“I learned more about conducting by watching (Orpheus) rehearse, than I have in all my conducting classes.”
This quote in my book comes from a conducting student who, like me, sat in on an Orpheus rehearsal. He had learned something remarkable: there is a process for and value in soliciting ideas from the players – the people doing the work. And while that may sound obvious to most managers, it is a lesson worth re-stating and practicing.

Caption: Vivian Hagner
While in New York city in April I had the pleasure of observing the violinist Viviane Hagner rehearse with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. She was their guest soloist for a performance at Carnnegie Hall. If you follow this blog, you know that the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra (composed of between 25 -40 musicians depending on the piece of music) plays without a conductor. There is no boss. The players make all musical decisions (tone, mood, interpretation, tempo, etc.) Each musician is free to offer well-considered and well-informed commentary within the rehearsal time frame. The collective goal is an outstanding performance. While I have written extensively about their democratic process, I always find fresh insights at each rehearsal about their unique way of making decisions.
One of my on-the-road reads was “What Do Conductors Do?” by Justin Davidson, New York magazine’s music critic. He tells - a la George Plimpton or maybe, Walter Mitty – of his adventures in conducting the Juilliard School of Music student orchestra. Not a rank amateur, Mr. Davidson is a student of music and once conducted a few of his own compositions in college. And, he spent two months diligently preparing, with two Juilliard conducting coaches, before taking wand in hand for the 6-minute overture to Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Still, Mr. Davidson is to be admired for his adventurous spirit and frame-by-frame analysis of how he did it. You can see a brief video of what happened at this link.
My interest in his story was more about how he led the orchestra than his musical interpretation of Mozart. The anxiety, the “Maestro Complex,” he feels about his leadership - that “the person responsible for the totality of sound produces none” - probably is similar to that of a work group meeting for the first time with a new manager or leader. The workers, just like the musicians, are thinking: “Does this person know what he is doing? Can we have confidence, trust in his leadership? And, the leader shares in the uncertainty: “How am I coming across? Am I being clear about my expectations? Are these people on board with my leadership? Will we excel or muddle along?”
There are multiple theories about how much we should involve workers in decisions about getting the job done. Some managers prefer to direct the worker – the expert manager knows more (he or she certainly believes that) than anyone else therefore it is for him or her to make all the decisions. Others, less certain about knowing it all, take a more democratic approach and expect the worker to have ideas on how to do a better job. While this manager “lets go”, he or she is no different from the micromanager in wanting results. In my experience, a manger’s genuinely “letting go” results in more innovation and higher productivity than does the omniscient micromanager.
The conductor, as a highly visible leader, gives us insights into the process of leadership and followership. Conducting is not karaoke – a version of singing along. In a live musical performance the conductor is literally a beat ahead of the orchestra. The orchestra follows. Like what a dancing instructor told me: “On the dance floor, good leaders initiate the movement they want from their partner and then follow the movement they've created.” That’s sort of like it is between the conductor and the musician. What’s unknown is how much input the musicians have had in the decision making prior to the performance; how much collaboration has gone on among the musicians and between them and the conductor in developing the interpretation and delivery of the music. Lots, some or none?

Caption: Orpheus at ease.
Today’s rehearsal, at the Kraft Center on W. 115th Street, was Ms. Hagner’s first time playing with Orpheus
Ms. Hagner rehearsed two pieces: Henry Vieuxtemps’ Violin Concerto No. 5 in A minor and Beethoven’s Romance No. 2 in F Major.
I got there late, but soon after I sat down and listened, I was captivated by the bel canto quality of Ms. Hagner’s playing. I use the operatic term "beautiful singing" deliberately because it has multiple meanings about musical depth, breadth and range. The term fits what I heard: a lightness and richness, transcending and soaring alongside that of the orchestra.
Ms. Hagner, in jeans, sweater and flat shoes, plays with energy, rising up on her toes, moving about, playing toward the orchestra. (Good naturadly, a violinist reminds her that she should face front, not toward the orchestra. I think she was enjoying the collaboration so much that it was natural to turn to the orchestra.) I picked up on what must have been an immediate camaraderie – a liking and trusting of each other. (That said, I discovered during the 2.5 hour rehearsal Ms. Hagner's unstated charm that draws people to her.)
Today’s concert master (and first violin – for both pieces was Martha Caplin.
As the concertmaster, she is in charge of the “core”, the group of 4 or 5 musicians who make pre-rehearsal musical decisions. And, as concertmaster, she led and facilitated today's rehearsal. She is not, however, the only voice offering guidance and direction. At Orpheus ideas can come from any section of the orchestra.
Along with their patented forms of giving and sharing of information with each other – “say it, play it, sing it” -I have often seen Orpheus musicians stop playing and go out into the rehearsal hall to listen to the music. Today at least a half dozen players took turns to stand, a few steps behind me, and listen intently – score in hand. Then the musician describes what he or she heard and makes suggestions on what needs to be improved in the overall sound, pace and balance. Or, it can be a request to develop a less quantifiable quality, more nuanced, such as making the music “more sensitive” or “less mushy.” During the Beethoven piece an observer offered: “(The sound is) not as convincing; it should be darker, richer.”
Nor was Viviane reluctant to offer her ideas: At one point: (That was) “a little thick, get more air in the sound.” At another, she tells them, “That was good, that was great – we got it. One more time.” Shortly after, there is a mess up, but it results in good humor, not any blaming or finger pointing. Everyone wants the piece to work. That is what drives the discussion and decision-making; it is not one interpretation competing for first place. Rather the discussion, the back and forth, is about making the most of this musical piece. The process is collaborative; no one player has the answer. Instead the answer evolves, builds as the group rehearses and talks about it, tweaking, improving, and clarifying.
The group is having so much fun that Ronnie Bausch, a veteran member of Orpheus, admonishes: “Let’s do it for real; too many jokes, asides; now, all together.” The result gets applause.
Making decisions like this – typically the realm of the musical director - means knowing the ins and outs of the music, literally “knowing the score”. Each musical selection has at least a dozen or more Orpheans who hear the entire work, not just the sound his or her section makes. It is this shared overview (the big picture) that leads to the performance the orchestra wants. It is Orpheus’ unique sound.
At rehearsal’s end, I asked Ms. Hagner, “Did you miss having a conductor make decisions?” She smiled, “I did not miss one today.”
(Part 2 of "Maestro Complex" is here.)

Andrew Summers Rowan is the hero in “A Message to Garcia”, the still quoted 1899 inspirational essay written by the entrepreneurial Elbert Hubbard.
Hubbard has Rowan as a laconic, decisive and rugged individual slipping into and out of enemy territory (Cuba) to deliver a secret letter from his President to the leader of the insurgent forces, General Garcia. Yet, Rowan’s own story is not quite the paen to rugged individualism that Hubbard makes it.

Caption: Andrew Summers Rowan
Written in 1929 – 31 years after the “Message” - Rowan describes in 9000 words how he got his message through. It is a harrowing tale of personal danger, but it is less about the individual as a solo adventurer and more about a high-risk, escorted journey - via Jamaica - on open seas and through enemy-held blockades, jungles and mountains. In the only perceptible nod to a Solo-esque adventure, Rowan quotes a Cuban newspaper describing his dramatic arrival at Garcia's headquarters: "There was no notice of his coming and the first (sight) of Lieutenant Rowan was as he galloped up Calle Commercial, followed by the Cuban guides who accompanied him."
Rather, Rowan - someone I would have liked to meet - has a wry perspective and includes a couple of engaging touches of humor. When his meeting with Garcia was delayed, even longer than one might expect from a necessary scrutiny of credentials, he explains: “There is humor in everything. I had been described in letters from the junta as ‘a man of confidence.’ The translator had made me ‘a confidence man’."
His trip back to the US was no less of a risk and an adventure than getting through to Garcia. “The boat in which we made the voyage was a cockleshell, ‘capacity 104 cubic feet’. For sails we had gunnysacks, pieced together. For rations boiled beef and water. In this craft we were to sail, and we did sail, 150 miles due north …. "
On the way, they overtook a sponging schooner and asked to be taken aboard. “This schooner carried a litter of pigs for food and an accordeon. I never want to hear an accordeon again....”
If anything, Rowan’s story suggests an extraordinarily effective insurgent force – how else could Rowan get through and past the Spanish army’s blockades and patrols?
Rowan is a hero, no question, but the notion that he did this mutely and on his own is simply wrong. Each of the people who helped Rowan did so at great risk. If caught all would be killed; not a one would be spared.


While “A Message to Garcia” was hugely successful - with many businesses and governments ordering millions of copies, and eventually made into a sappy movie - it has its share of critics. For example: "…the (Hubbard) essay's real intent had nothing to do with Rowan. It was, instead, a heavy-handed admonition to workers to obey authority and to place devotion to duty above all else.” This critic suggest Hubbard wants workers be more like obedient dogs.
Hardly. Hubbard wanted workers like himself, a self-starter. He wanted “can-do” workers rather than the passive aggressives (in some eyes, anti-heroic) characters who, nowadays, populate comic strips like Dilbert, nor are they scarce among the cubicle and corner office set. In Rowan’s story, Hubbard saw someone accepting responsibility, taking initiative, and figuring out things for himself.
Hubbard does not analyze why some workers are less than effective, he celebrates Rowan and his successful mission and wants others to emulate Rowan. While Hubbard does not use the term, Rowan is an effective follower.
Like I describe several times in Leading from the Middle, the effective follower benefits the leadership process – getting things done. The best followers require little supervision. And, they are committed to the organization and to a purpose or person outside themselves. These followers manage themselves well – they are leaders in their own areas. Like Rowan, the effective follower thinks for himself, figures out what needs doing, and then does it. Because he is an independent and critical thinker, he asks no unnecessary question; instead he acts rather than dithers. Rowan himself offers us an insight into his sense of duty and doing: “In instances of this kind, where one's reputation, as well as his life, is at stake, it is usual to ask for written instructions. …. But in this case it never occurred to me to ask for written instructions; my sole thought was that I was charged with a message to Garcia and to get from him certain information and that I was going to do it.“

My cough drop wrappers come inscribed with “pep” talks. I guess the idea is as you are sucking away, you should rest your orbs on the wrapper and become inspired, kick some behind, primarily your own! Here are some of the motivational gems with my snide, no; snarky, no; snappy, yes, commentary in brackets. That's the problem with the one line pepper upper; its simplicity can offend those who want a complex rationale for why they should do better. Maybe that's what triggers the negative - the base assumption is that the individual is flawed. In some cases, true; in many others, things go awry due to circumstances more than individual malfeasance. And, like wise adages (He who hesitates is lost) is deftly countered by an equally apt one, (Look before you leap.)

Bet on yourself. (If you lose you only have yourself to blame.)
Inspire envy. (Earn the enmity of an insecure boss.)
Hi-five yourself. (If you can, the NBA wants you.)
Dust off and get up. (Or, use a vacuum cleaner the next time.)
Turn “can do” into “can did!”( Like in CANDID – tell the boss where to stick it.)

You’ve survived tougher. (But maybe not this time.)
Fire up those engines! (And get the EPA on your case.)
The show must go on. Or work. (The option to the "show going on" is work. Imagine that!)

Impress yourself today. (I am impressed.)
Take charge and mean it! (When all about your are losing their heads, and the bridge is in flames, make sure to bite your lips, presidentially – a sure sign of “I MEAN IT !”
Don’t try harder. Do harder! (What happened to smarter? Does the definition of insanity apply here?)
Be unstoppable. (Yeah, until you run into the 6 foot 6 inch tackle (width not height) like I did as a freshman football player.)
Get back in the game. (Where have you been??? The game ended two hours ago!)
Quit reading these pep talks and get to work! (Nah, that one I made up.)

More from the bottom of the bag:
Let's hear your battle cry. (Waaaah is not a war cry!)
Put your game face on. (N.B. Warriors do not wear mascara.)
Buckle down and push forth! (Similar to escaping, Houdini-like, from a padlocked trunk tossed into the Hudson River.)
Put a little strut in it. (Not recommended on 8th Avenue.)
Nothing you can't handle. (But do not, ever, push this button.)

Speaking of pep talks, A Letter to Garcia is among the most famous, inspiring, we are told, millions. I've wanted to use it in my classes and workshops, but just have not figured out how. I'll address my reluctance in an upcoming blog.

Coach Gail Goestenkoers' surprise resignation from the University of Texas' Women's Basketball team prompts these comments. I spent a season with her 1999/2000 Duke team - at practice and at games. I grew to love the team and, as my chapter ( More Than a Game: A Season with a Women’s Basketball Team) conveys in LfM I learned much** from Gail and the players about leadership and followership. That 1999/00 team was not supposed to do well. With five freshmen, it was going to be a "re-building" year. But, instead of a break-even season, the team won - for the first time in 25 years - the conference championship.
Citing fatigue at UT, Coach G, decided to give basketball (and herself) a rest. “My heart’s telling me it’s time to take a break, and that’s what I’m going to do." At her resignation press conference she said: "I feel very much at peace." I admire her decision.You may wonder why. Well, there are times when leaders need to step away, let someone else take charge, maybe even leave the organization. Deciding to leave takes more courage, I think, than staying. Each case is different, I know, but when going to lunch becomes the highlight of the day, as it did in one job I held onto too long, it's time to go. Early in my career I was mentored, in order to advance, to leave jobs every few years. I did some of that, but one job lasted about 20 years, probably about 5-10 years too long. I remember how it started with my coming, as an assistant director, into a tradition-bound organization struggling with change. After a few years and little progress a new leader was brought in. We had a very good five or so years but then things shifted. He left during what would have been his 10th year. I should have followed, but instead rationalized (and, unlike Gail, felt hardly at peace). So, all the more reason why I applaud Coach G! In her insightful story Mechelle Voepel observes: "Her move to Texas didn't work out in terms of basketball victories. But for right now, maybe it's time she sees how big the rest of the world is." Sometimes we get caught up in a job and lose sight of the joy or fun that brought us into a profession. Breaking away from the day to day might help us rediscover that fun and joy.
When I teach about coaching I refer to Gail's mother and the advice she gave her daughter about taking on too much of the blame for losing.
Gail's mother asked her, 'Have you ever had one loss … as a coach that you didn't take responsibility for?' "No, never" responded Gail. Her mom then said, 'Well, do you take responsibility for all the wins?' Gail said, 'No.'
Gail concluded: “(My mother) helped me a lot to see that I wasn't really seeing the big picture.”
Gail's leaving UT opens the door for a new start for the team. “I feel like it’s time for me to step away and bring in some new leadership and help this program really to go where I know it can go.”
I am including a few photos taken for me by Toni Tetterton during that 99/00 season. Unlike her recent years at Texas, Gail was able to make the team a contender for the national championship. These photos display her leadership and connection with the players and coaches, both essential elements in getting a team to realize it need not settle for less, ever.

Caption: An exuberant Gail, at practice, scores a distant basket!

Caption: Coach G with Freshman Michele Matyasovsky and Coach Joanne Boyle.

Caption: Coach G, arm around Coach Shonta Tabourn, getting a rise out of players, from left:
Jennifer Forte? Rochelle Parent, Georgia Schweitzer, Olga Gvozdenovic, Missy West, Michele Matyasovsky, Krista Gingrich.

Caption: Coach G, mid-court, during a group meeting, smiling at remarks by number 40, Lauren Rice, the senior leader on the team. Lauren contributed mightily to the team's play in the conference championship.
*The title of David Charvet's plaintive song.
** My Lessons from A Season on the Hardwood:
Overcome adversity
Commit to feedback
Clarify purpose and role
Value time
Build trust
Have fun
Know there are no magic bullets

I started this blog two years ago in March 2010, ahead of the June 2010 publication of my book, Leading from the Middle. In the event current readers missed this first entry, "Envy and Other Deadly Workplace Sins," I offer it again. The film clip at the end of the piece is worth the effort of reading my fable:
Kookaburra and Crow - A Fable
A long time ago Kookaburra and Crow were friends. They lived in a land of perpetual night with little to eat. At Kookaburra’s inspiration, they invited Sun to their dark and desolate land. Under Sun’s warm rays, the land soon flourished. Crow and Kookaburra and the other animals learned new ways to grow and harvest food with plenty left over. No one was hungry and all were grateful to Kookaburra and Crow.

But Crow, a master of detail and cultivation, soon grew jealous of Kookaburra’s greeting Sun each morning with his raucous laugh and basking in the glory of the dawn. One day while Kookaburra was away, Crow persuaded the animals to shun Kookaburra, saying that Kookaburra played all day and did nothing but laugh at Sun; anyone could bring the sunshine to their land. The animals turned against Kookaburra.

Soon the land became dark and joyless – Sun no longer dawned, try as Crow would to Caw! Caw! a morning greeting. The animals began to fight among themselves. The few remaining crops dwindled in the pale light of the stars. Crow had secretly stored food, but would only share it with those who called him King.

Sun saw through Crow’s treachery and followed Kookaburra to a new land, the land down under, where Kookaburra greets her every morning with hilarious and joyful laughter. In Crow’s land, only a few animals remember the days of sunshine and plenty for all – it was like a dream, or so it seemed.

And we know why Sun never rises to Crow’s, Caw! Caw!(1)

Like Aesop’s fables of old, my introductory story has a moral, one that applies to the real world. It touches on how petty behavior, like Crow’s jealousy, can lead us to lose something we value. To our chagrin, we can slip backwards away from the progress we have made. Crow’s jealousy (and treachery) turns a sunshine filled world back into a dismal place.

My fable comes from my experience in the library workplace. I have seen libraries give up solid and positive gains because of conflict among leaders; or, if we did not surrender our gains, I have seen libraries grow idle after achieving a plateau and incrementally slip back into the old ways.
NOTES
1. My fable is inspired by the many Australian tribal stories. One enjoyable-to-read collection is Aboriginal Myths, Legends and Fables, by A. W. Reed. Sydney: Reed New Holland, 1999.

Listen to Kookaburra greet the sun:

A couple weeks ago, I completed a long piece about my teaching experiences in Riga. This was for Del Williams, the editor of Advances in Library Administration and Organization.

The essay gave me an opportunity to reflect and philosophize about how I teach, and whether mine is a good approach; do the positives pile higher than the negatives?

The traditional approach to teaching management of libraries, and most any other type of graduate class, is lecture/textbook. I took a different approach in the mid-80s when my wife and I first team taught our class – no textbook. Our assigned readings included a few of my essays and dozens of the classics in the field of management and leadership theory including two or three by librarians. We lectured about the usual management topics (personnel work, systems analysis, organizational culture, the political process, budgets, and administration) but only enough to lay a basic foundation of understanding. We emphasized case studies, experiential activities (group work – even a “day in the woods”,) conflict resolution, and we made use of several self-tests including ones for conflict, teamwork, management style, and organizational culture.

Also, we asked for student feedback through the plus/delta (what’s working, what needs change?) Always, at semester’s end we used an anonymous version plus/delta to get student input in time to make changes for the next semester.
Every class session included at least one or more small group discussions of course content. (Retrospectively, one could say that we “flipped” – an unfortunate term - the classroom, the peer teaching innovation now used increasingly to help students master concepts (with statistical evidence that it far surpasses the lecture in learning by students – see my notes below about flipping).

We never did a department-by-department analysis of “the library.” Instead we kept a wide focus and drew from all of the organizational literature; after all, both my wife were graduates of a rigorous master’s program in public administration at the University of Houston. This program required statistical analysis, microeconomics, political theory and organizational development. We found all these to be highly relevant to our library careers and we adapted what we learned to fit our teaching.

Our case studies, a library budget group assignment, and a solo building renovation project, did draw on library experiences and, in class discussion, we encouraged students to talk about their work experience (often in libraries) and to make the connections between library work and theories mentioned in the class. So, we did not exclude the library per se. We just assumed students would come to better understand “the library” through personal experience and through the eyes of their peers. And, they did.
We knew from our own experience as administrators in libraries and other not-for-profits that there was little unique about budgeting in the library, nor was there much difference in personnel work when compared to other not-for-profit bureaucracies, and in many cases, for-profit organizations.
My day-job added another dimension to my teaching as a Visiting Professor. I was in charge of a major reform initiative in a large library. We undertook to improve in dozens of ways what we did and how we did it, all within existing resources. My leadership approach was to turn to self-managing teams and to encourage participation by everyone - regardless of status - who wanted to be involved. (I discovered that the best ideas came from support staff who had been doing the work for ages; their input largely ignored by the professionals.)
We had good success, indeed remarkable success. My teams accomplished what we set out to do, something that previous change initiatives - led by the foremost experts - had failed to achieve. (For more on this surge in productivity and innovation see the “Teams That Were” chapter in the Leading from the Middle book.)

In the class, most students relished our approach. By the end of the course they understood many management concepts and, even if they would never be managers, they now understood what it meant to be managed. We had some excellent students and these students were among the ones that offered us the most encouraging feedback about the class and its design. For them, our bringing in the theory from outside the field and small group work were highly important for personal development. Also, our insights about organizational culture and the political process opened their eyes to a better understanding of why organizations behave the way they do.

Overtime, I have come to realize that if you have students who want to be challenged, who want fresh perspectives, who want to learn about themselves, and who want to work with other people in doing a good job, that the best thing we can do is to de-emphasize the lecture and increase opportunities which help hone their skills in getting along with others – either by leading or following - and in understanding why some groups reach their goals and why some groups drift aimlessly.
So, in Riga, a year ago, I built on my previous classroom experiences and then further de-emphasized the lecture. I believe my teaching in Latvia worked well because the students were very well prepared and engaged for each class. Their engagement, intelligence and my approach to teaching enabled them to make conceptual connections across the course.
David Hestenes, one of the pioneers in the anti-lecture (or “flipping the classroom”) movement, puts up a cautionary note: "Students have to be active in developing their knowledge. They can't passively assimilate it." Indeed, some students disagree about flipping. They prefer the lecture model because it is less demanding of them than peer teaching (another term for flipping). When peer-teaching students have to do the assigned work before class; a lectures-only approach can permit procrastination to reign until the night before the final.

Here are some notes about the anti-lecture for your own exploration:
Berrett, Dan. “How 'Flipping' the Classroom Can Improve the Traditional Lecture” The Chronicle of Higher Education. February 19, 2012
This article provides an example of the so-called “flipped” class – in this case, an evolutionary biology class at the University of Colorado at Boulder. “Some students enjoy the "flipped" lectures that require them to help one another understand the material. Others resent being forced to work in groups.”

Hanford, Emily. Physicists Seek To Lose The Lecture As Teaching Tool.
January 1, 2012 from American Public Media (APM) broadcast on National Public Radio.
Hanford’s study is notable because it uses test data to show that different approaches to teaching and learning (mostly small groups and peer discussion) are vastly superior to the lecture for learning concepts.
Also, from the NPR URL there is a link to several other stories and research by Ms. Hanford for APM:
These include: “Rethinking the Way College Students Learn”; “Rethinking the Way College Students are Taught”; “The Problem with Lecturing”; and, “Inventing a New Kind of College”. Also, her “Reporter’s Notebook” has insights about alternatives to the lecture.
Washington Post “Some academics dismiss appeal, value of lectures.” Washington Post, February 17, 2012, online at

(NEW: See a video excerpt from the March 6 Bradford town meeting).
On the way from North Carolina to Bradford, Vermont, for its March 6, 2012 town meting, my wife and I detoured to Gettysburg, a sacred place in America’s history. Standing near where President Lincoln spoke, his words, “that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth" evoked new meaning. I was about to witness in Bradford some part of what Lincoln meant by “of the people, by the people, for the people” – self-government.

A large sign on the door to the Bradford Academy urged people to vote – It is Super Tuesday.
Caption: Entry to the Bradford Academy building. Its attractively renovated auditorium hosted the town meeting.

Larry Coffin, the about-to-retire Moderator, introduced my wife and me to the assemblage, about 150 people, mentioning by way of explanation, that the Bradford town meeting has now been described in two books, “both about bees”, and that I was there to do some research on organizational dynamics.
This, the 239th meeting, started promptly at 9AM. As has been the custom for many years, all rose for the Salute to the flag, hands over hearts. Quoting from last year’s minutes: “(The Moderator) asked for a moment of silence in memory of those in our community who passed away last year and in honor of those who serve our Community, State and Nation by placing themselves in harm’s way and to acknowledge the exercise in Democracy we are about to undertake. The Girl Scouts led the Pledge of Allegiance.”

In Larry’s 40th year as Moderator (1971 – 2012), he passed the gavel to a newly elected Moderator, Mark Johnson, a retired elementary school principal and until recently the manager of the Village Store.
The Moderator receives a stipend of $100 for the year, so this is more in the volunteer spirit than with making a profit. (I observed an ethos in this community of doing for oneself and others rather than expecting someone else to do it. One annual report cites a neighbor who takes in or puts up at a motel, at his own expense, the few homeless in Bradford).
The moderator is elected annually. Here is what Larry says about town meetings and the role of the Moderator:
“Town meetings remain one of the best examples of participatory democracy in the world. It is within the confines of public debate that voters get to thrash out, face to face, issues facing the town’s government.” The town meeting “operates under a combination of Roberts, Vermont state law and our own traditional rules of procedure. As moderator I have always felt it is my responsibility to help a voter who is unsure of the proper way to bring a motion before the assembly. If there are any decisions of the moderator that a voter wishes to appeal, the right to do so exists.“
I had been under the assumption that the moderator has no vote. To the contrary, I quote Larry again: "It is not correct to say that the moderator has no vote, for, as with most presiding officers, he may vote only when his vote makes a difference in a divison of the house (hand, or standing). In that case he can vote to break or make a tie. He can also vote in a ballot vote."

During breaks in the meeting, several people introduced themselves, curious about us flatlanders and obviously proud of their town and way of life. In response to my wife's question about whether the town meeting concept could work in a diverse community, say like Durham with its split black and white populations, a Bradford citizen observed: “Each town is different.”( In other words, the concept can work if people are willing to subordinate individual agendas to the greater good.) I noted a pithiness of speech time and again during the meeting as people offered comments, asked questions and made motions. The orotund would not fare well in Bradford.
Robert Miller (Larry's former student) and Chair of the Selectboard) recognized, with a plaque, Larry's historic years of service and contributions to “participatory democracy.” Mr. Miller told the assembly that Larry as moderator was just the way he was as a teacher: “fair and respectful”. (Larry taught Social Studies in Bradford for 42 years.)
Following several questions about the annual reports – questions that revealed a close reading and understanding of what may be missing or in error – the group moved on to the business of the day.
Election: Two candidates are running for a Selectman’s seat, Randy Moore and Bob Wing. Each candidate gave a brief statement on why he is interested in the job and his qualifications. Randy minced no words. Speaking from the back of the auditorium he indicated the selectmen in the front and said: “There isn’t anyone up there I can’t get along with!”
The election proceeded and all got in line. Each voter has a paper ballot, marks his or her choice of name on paper; checks in at registry desk and then drops paper slip in a ballot box.
Caption: Voters line up to cast their ballot for the selectman of their choice. The Ballot box is on the far right. Two monitors stand by the box. Behind, on the stage, is where the selectmen sit during the meeting.

Article 4: “To see what sum of money the town will vote for General Fund purposes for the year 2012, and to vote to determine the time and manner of collecting monies for General Fund and Town Highway purposes.” $854, 993.00 is approved for the General Fund. Discussion reveals frustration with the auditors because the size of the expected surplus remains nebulous; 2011’s audit is not complete. One voice calls out: “Fire ‘em!” “We did”, responds a selectman.
In the course of the meeting, each of the articles was read out and discussed, fielding pointed questions from various corners. Most questions get good answers; usually someone rises and explains, with specifics, why the money should be distributed to a service and what it does for Bradford. Voice votes pass most of the articles, The Ayes have it. Good humor prevails.
Article 9: Shall the town appropriate $5,000 for the Bradford Conservation Fund? got a different response. One person asked matter-of-factly, “Why are we giving this group money; they’ll use it to take property off our tax rolls!" Murmurs of assent. One or two spoke in defense of this appropriation. The voice vote was too close to call. Larry offered to count.
Caption: Larry Coffin in the distant background in black sweater counts the hands.

65 Ayes, 69 Nays, the motion fails.

Larry told me that sometimes an item’s passage depends on who is asking. For example, one less than popular person had a good idea for a different way of voting – it made sense, but it did not pass. Larry attributed that failure to an abrasive personality.
Another case, a youngish progressive man got a well-regarded businessman to make a motion against nuclear waste being trucked, on the Interstate, past the town. That motion passed. Had the young man offered it, it might not.
To me, many of the questioners were well informed. Also, those speaking for or against a motion said their well-reasoned piece with brevity and sat down. Had someone spoken up for the Conservation Fund – showing that in the long run its work was positive for the tax base, it might have passed. The Conservation Commission which, holds the Conservation Fund, appears to be a well-organized group, so the lack of an articulate response may have been atypical.
Two agencies indicated they were late with their requests – had failed to follow the rules - and asked for their allocation from the floor. While there was general sympathy for the groups, getting them the money was not easy within the confines of the town meeting. And, there was some grumbling about a group's failing to follow the process when others had.
It is invariably best for a local citizen to explain – in the bee world, to perform a “waggle dance” - how a cooperative, multi-town service benefits Bradford. For example: Article 11: Shall the town appropriate $2,000 for the Oxbow Senior Independence Project, Adult Day Services?

Caption: Dianne Smarro, Bradford citizen, explains how the project benefits Bradford, clarifying that 30% of those participating are from Bradford.

Well-informed comments help get the Ayes.

The Bradford Moderator aligns well with Seeley’s description of a democratic leader. Notably, the Moderator facilitated discussion and sought to make sure the process was followed. Not once did the Moderator suggest how the vote should go!
Here is what Seeley learned from his bee research and applied to his chairing of a departmental faculty. He says the democratic leader is limited – for the best results - to the following:
1. States group’s object
2. Defines group’s decision-making process
3. Keeps group on track
4. Fosters a balanced discussion
5. Identifies when decision is reached
It would be good to debate the merits of Seeley’s democratic leader, the town meeting process and the traditional boss/leader (“We’re not going to vote on it!”). Which approach produces the best decisions? The democratic bees select the best place for a new nest 80% of the time. Can humans do better? I'd put my money on the participatory model, one that is open and safe for well informed participants to speak their minds.
Reflecting about Bradford, I wish I had tried voting more often in my work meetings – Seeley’s quorum response (with anonymous ballots) suggests an effective and safe way of voting for professional groups. A vote (hand, voice, or quorum) in work situations might actually be easier than looking for the ever-elusive consensus. That consensus, in my experience, usually turned out to be a poor compromise, everyone getting a little of what they want, but far from the best solution. Larry 's comments about voting are germane: "(T)he results of a secret ballot vote are sometimes different from one in which a voter has to declare preference in front of others. Voice votes in a large group such as (a town meeting) are not very accurate, unless clearly one sided...different voices, different volumes. that is why the moderator says "The ayes appear to have it" to allow for a request for a counted vote."
Of course, democratic decision-making takes preparation and interest by all participants in what is happening. You have to do the homework. Like the Bradford townspeople, each participant has to read and examine critically the annual reports and budgets. Sometimes when we are not in charge we leave the details, even the general pros and cons, to someone else; the more absolute the boss, the less informed the subordinates. That is not what I observed in Bradford. Surely, Mr. Lincoln would have approved!

Since we are in basketball’s “March madness” I want to give you some of my observations about how real team members – albeit they are not on work teams – support and encourage each other.

This picture, shot by Toni Tetterton, appears in Leading from the Middle in Chapter: 8: “More Than a Game: A Season with a Women’s Basketball Team.” It depicts a common practice among men’s and women’s basketball teams – players circling up, arms around waists or draped over shoulders, faces close, fully attentive, with a few words spoken to plan, to calm, to encourage, to support. The coach is not in the huddle.
I could do a full day workshop on this picture alone. Really. It speaks to me with an eloquence that surpasses the circle’s symmetry.
Do you circle up like this at work?
We use sports analogies on the job because our bosses aspire to “WIN”. Unfortunately, for many reasons, our aspirations fall short. For example, there is an inherent superficiality in applying these team work adages in the work place: “When the going gets tough, the tough get going” or “There’s no ‘I’ or ‘U’ in the word TEAM,” etc
But, instead of dismissing all team rituals because of our ineptness o-t-j, take a minute with me and see how basketball team members interact, encourage, and inspire
While observing two games – one a men’s and one a women’s - I picked up on several rituals. What qualities/transfers do these rituals offer? What is their provenance? Why are they done?
I encourage you to think about how these gestures and behaviors could apply to work teams. Do some what-iffing about how we treat ourselves off the court.
The BENCH and the SIDELINE:
Cheering comes from the bench (from the “riders of the pine”); the non-playing substitutes pay attention to the game; there’s clapping, rising to feet, shouting. Absent, except among dysfunctional teams, is any staring off into space wanting to be somewhere else, resenting the loss of playing time.
Injured players sit on the bench, often in uniform, even if unable to play.
Bench players get up on feet, give up their seats to players during a time out with the coach.
The Bench rises and greets incoming players.
After a time out with coaches, all hands go up and touch in a spire, including coaches and other team members. (Surely not all these players like each other, yet they touch and aspire together.)
Hand taps by incoming players to entire bench – yes, the players runs the length of the bench hand-touching the team doctor, the strength coach, the assistant coaches, etc.
An assistant coach gives a word of advice, recognition, and encouragement as an aside to an incoming player.
At the start of the game, after the national anthem, starting teams are introduced. While only five players will be named, the bench players are up in a double line and the starters run through the lane and end with a low five or chest bump or other imaginative exclamation point. The entire team (players and staff) circles up before the tip-off.
On the COURT:
Hand taps between players, while passing up and down the court.
At the foul line, players touch hands, always, and give pats on back to shooter whether the first shot is an air ball or basket.
An incoming player (in women’s game) often brings a towel to the replaced player.
Teams circles up under basket after point made or missed or the shooter “charged” or was “blocked”. The circle provides a sense of celebrating and/or steadying, calming, focusing.
Players, but not all, talk. (Often talking or not – communicating - is cited by coaches as a contributing reason to why a team wins or loses.) Hand signals can be used for communication.
Sometimes, a quick burst of hand clapping is a non-verbal “let’s go!”
Hand touch or hand slap after basket. Good job!
Player gives finger point to the assisting player, for a pass in or a dish out that results in a score.
A player helps a downed player up off floor, offers a hand up and a smile or a concerned look. (On an occasion, an opponent offers a hand up to a downed player – sportsmanship of the finest kind!)
Scalp rub or tap: usually from a veteran to a rookie who does well.
Players set “screens” (this is a legal way to hinder a defender and to “open up” a shooter.
‘Tude or swagger is less about teamwork than it is about psyching the opponent. Still it can bind a team and intimidate an opponent. (I recall a women’s team that circled, pre-game, the opponent’s court with their hoodies up over their heads – thug-like, an image this team and coach cultivated. They won.) Chest bumps after a great play might qualify as ‘tude, possibly earning a technical foul.

Let me know if your workplace team emulates any of these behaviors. A few might be taboo in the no-touch corporate culture, although hardly any are really invasive or harassing. Hand taps, shoulder touches, talking, eye contact, encouraging words and gestures, and engagement, are all relevant and possible. Through them we strengthen our connections and heighten our trust and awareness of each other.
UPDATE:
Watching Florida State University Seminoles battle the University of North Carolina Tar Heels for the ACC Championship, I saw FSU player Luke Louck advocating and encouraging several players on the court and at least once inside the coach’s huddle with seeming full support (Bravo!) from Seminoles coach, Leonard Hamilton. It was a scene right out of the classic team movie, Hoosiers! The Seminoles have had a hard season, but after losing 6 of 10 games from November to early January, the team has come back. How did that happen? Here I am citing from a March 10 an ESPN blog item by Edward Aschoff who explains that the team confronted itself after those embarrassing loses, “Players and coaches gathered … to speak candidly about how things weren't working. Slackers were called out and even coaches received constructive criticism from players.
Guards were told they were shooting too much and big men were called lazy in the ultimate open forum.
"Everybody knew what the other guy next to him was thinking," James (a FSU player) said. "We identified our problems and everybody worked toward fixing them. That's what brought us to the point we are now."
FSU won its first ever ACC championship on March 11, 2012
Sounds like the kind of conversation we need but all too often do NOT (cannot?) have in the work place!

“We encourage all Bradford residents to come and participate in this annual exercise of democracy.” That’s the message on the Vermont town (est. pop, 2716) of Bradford's web site.

I’ll be inside the auditorium of the depicted Bradford Academy building on March 6 as a guest observer courtesy of Larry Coffin, the town’s Moderator.
Why will I be there? Because the Bradford town meeting is mentioned as an outstanding example of the democratic-decision making process. It is an annual event led by a moderator and not an elected or appointed boss. I know about Bradford (and Larry) from mentions in two books:

Miller, Peter. The Smart Swarm: How Understanding Flocks, Schools, and Colonies Can Make Us Better at Communicating, Decision Making, and Getting Things Done.
New York: Penguin Group 2010 (Describes the Bradford town meeting process on pp. 86-91)
&
Seeley, Thomas D. Honeybee Democracy
. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press 2010 (Seeley comments, on pages 221 & 223, about Larry Coffin’s 40 years of moderating Bradford’s Town Meetings.)
This year there will be a new moderator; Larry has said 40 years is enough, but he will remain one year more as the Parliamentarian who interprets Robert's Rules of Order when procedural questions come up. And, I’d guess he will be there to offer assistance and support as needed for the new Moderator.
Seeley says the effective democratic leader, based on what he has learned from his research on honeybees, is limited to the following:
1. States group’s object
2. Defines group’s decision-making process
3. Keeps group on track
4. Fosters a balanced discussion
5. Identifies when decision is reached
New England town meetings go back to 1663. That first meeting occurred in Dorchester, Massachusetts, near Boston.
Town meetings have their critics, including James Madison: "In all very numerous assemblies, of whatever characters composed, passion never fails to wrest the scepter from reason. Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still have been a mob."

Mr. Madison makes it sound somewhat like a pro wrestling match (I’d expect Passion’s costume (yes, there is a lady wrestler by that name) to beat Reason’s every time). Of course, long after Mr. Madison spoke of Athenian mobs (true to this day!) Civil War General Henry M. Robert’s Rules of Order have helped Reason keep her scepter.
I'll be posting my observations a few days after the meeting.