Issues and Challenges

I went for another job interview today. (Now there’s news!) The location happened to be in the greater metro area, but really, it could have been anyplace. It was a scheduled one-hour session with a screening committee, for a vice presidency position at a community college.

I showed up early to the Human Resources office, only to be informed that the interview was actually located in a totally different part of campus (driving distance away). After attempting to give me directions (although early to show up at HR, I was now going to be late for the interview), one staff member agreed to ride with me and show me where the committee was meeting.

The chair of the committee was standing in the hallway: waiting not only for me, but for a committee member who had disappeared. After a few minutes he announced we were ready. He led me into the room, and I found the “hot seat” easily. Everyone said their name and area, and the chair immediately said “[some name] has the first question” – and she proceeded to read it. No putting the candidate at ease, no explanation of the process, no nothing. Just boom: the first question.

Now, I had spent some serious time today researching this place. They have problems. The faculty in the last week voted “no confidence” in the president. A consulting firm has been doing survey and interview work on campus to prepare a status report for the Board, to be delivered on June 26th. The local newspaper has reported that a very long list of high-level administrators (the names were given, and I know some of them) have left since this president has taken over. A recent editorial identifies him as “controlling, egocentric, power hungry and suspicious.”

OK: so the first question was something about “issues and challenges of faculty.” (Note: they just jumped right into content, there was no obvious question on the list of fifteen actually designed to solicit information about me. It appeared that they had structured quite an academic exercise.) I started by saying that I had hoped to have a dialog with them today. Given the question about “issues and challenges,” I said that I knew the college had them, but I wanted to have a discussion about what was going on there on campus. I stated that I believed they might learn a little bit about what I know in this rigid question/answer format, but not who I am and what I could bring to the college during these troubled times. I was interrupted and informed that they had a process to follow. I said that given the current issues and challenges of the college, I had at least an hour’s worth of questions of them. I was informed that we had 50 minutes total.

I respectfully withdrew my candidacy and drove home.

And I Say It’s All Right

How do I best say goodbye?

This is the question that tumbles around in my brain as I prepare to convene the faculty and staff of the Science & Technology Division one last time.

Tomorrow afternoon I will gather the group together, do the routine business, then have a little chat with them all about my imminent departure.

I started to get to know everybody on the morning of September 15, 2004, during the first Division meeting I led. During my “introductory message” (that’s what I had listed on the agenda for the meeting), I pretty much gave them the Reader’s Digest version of my biography and how it was that I came to be standing in front of the room that day. I outlined the long and winding road of my life’s path, and I hope it made some sense how a person (me) could have earned degrees in chemistry, counseling, and higher education administration. And, how (weirdly) I had also worked a few years as a professional photographer.

I was hopeful, too, that maybe, just maybe, I was able to communicate that I had enough training, skills and experience to lead this large academic unit (even though I had never done the job before).

At any rate, I wanted to get to know them, starting by having them know me. My initial goal was to build relationships and trust.

Although I have had some up and down times here, my assessment is that I have led the division well. Certainly, last year at this time, when administrator evaluation forms were completed and then tabulated by our research office, just about everybody agreed that I was doing ok. In fact, many were downright enthusiastic about my efforts. I was humbled. Honored. Touched.

So, the time has come to publicly acknowledge that I will be moving on. It will be particularly difficult for me to report, since I don't know where I’ll be moving to. I had been hoping that my departure would be under different circumstances: maybe that I’d taken a position as a vice president someplace. Ah, but such is not the case.

It’s looking increasingly likely that I’ll be unemployed for a time...a state of affairs I had really wanted to avoid!

Maybe I’ll be able to share some more of my personal story. Or maybe not. I don’t know how choked up I might get. Let’s see what happens tomorrow...

Soundtrack Suggestion

Here comes the sun
here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it’s all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say it’s all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it’s all right
It’s all right

(“Here Comes the Sun” – George Harrison)

The Science Fair Experience

The 2006 Mt. Hood Science Expo (MHSE, our own regional science fair) is now history (well, except for the residual paperwork and escorting the winners to Indianapolis in May). Although the number of actual entries that showed up turned out to be rather modest (around 60), from the feedback I’ve received so far, the event was a rousing success. As with any large get-together of human beings, there were periodic crises that arose throughout the day; all were quickly and efficiently resolved by one or another of us, though.

My army of helpers was both large in number and hugely talented. An inner circle of us wore “Board of Directors” on our name tags…we were the primary planners and implementers. Then, we had professional-level judges who took off from their real jobs and gave us an entire day’s worth of time to talk with student participants and to assess their projects. Further, we recruited a very impressive showing of other volunteers, who did everything from covering the gym floor with a protective mat, to setting-up, tearing-down and carrying the tables. This kind of undertaking takes, at various points, significant amounts intellectual, emotional and physical energy. My jobs were mostly intellectual and emotional, leading me to a point of utter fatigue at the end of the day yesterday. Luckily, I had volunteers who carried on even after the awards ceremony to attend to the cleanup tasks. Some even showed up at the gym at 6:30 a.m. this morning to complete the job!

We had quite the range of projects. At the top end, we had students who just flat out “knew their stuff,” had done real science, and presented it in a way that the judges could understand and fairly evaluate. It was obvious that these kids were bright, articulate, and headed on their way to someplace significant in life. Wow, what a bunch! Of course, we had some projects on the other end of the spectrum as well. As the day wore on, and it became increasingly obvious that they were not really competitive, I realized I was feeling a little sorry for them. However, during my orientation speech to everybody at the beginning of the day, I had indicated that their science-fair experience was likely to be an intellectually-stimulating and growth-producing one whatever the outcome of their projects. I’m betting that if they didn’t understand me in the morning, some may have caught on to my meaning by the end of the day.

Even though a small core of us were dealing with a research-ethics dilemma as late as 5:00 p.m. — one that decided the last category winner — we still began the awards ceremony only a couple minutes late, a little after 6:00 p.m. That part of the program went quickly and smoothly as well (sigh…if only our Master of Ceremonies was a tad more familiar with some of the names!), so we were actually done ahead of the anticipated schedule.

I am hugely, immensely, beyond-belief indebted to several core people that were my MHSE team. This list includes, but is not limited to: Heather Ohana, Rachelle Ham, Valory Thatcher, Melissa Gonzales McNeal, Doug McCarty, Jack Brook, Jack Fassel, Tom Worcester, Stephanie Jones, and Jill Parisher. Original Board of Directors Member Michael Russell, who found the need to take leave of his responsibilities midway through our planning activities because of family issues, was with us in spirit yesterday, I'm sure. His father died during this last week, and the memorial service was scheduled at the same time as our awards ceremony last night. Michael, our hearts were with you, even though our bodies were not.

Near the end of the day, right before the awards ceremony began, Jill relayed a little story to me that almost brought me to tears. She indicated that she’d been talking the day over with one of the judges who very frequently works these regional fairs, and who had done several in the last few years. Her report to me was that judge said that this was the best-run regional fair he had ever experienced. The flow to our day was well planned-out, and it appeared that the organizers had basically thought of everything to make this a positive experience for everyone.

We tried. And I think we pulled it off. We done good, gang!

Why Study Science?

[What follows is an edited version of an email I sent to the science faculty at the college today. The task at hand is, quite simply, to propose a small number of goals for the study of the natural sciences.]

In my humble opinion, this is important stuff. By identifying and articulating goals for the natural sciences we are saying who we are. Do we know who we are? If we don’t, or if our answer keeps changing, isn’t it valuable to engage in thinking about this every so often? And shouldn’t we be publicly proclaiming who we are and what we do by identifying our goals?

I found myself reacting, initially, to one of the proposed goals in the email we received from one of our members, i.e., demonstrate application of the scientific method to real world. I would hope that we could eliminate from consideration a goal that uses such a pedestrian term as the “real world.” This, to me, connotes that there is, indeed, a discreet, identifiable, knowable, and objective “reality” — a concept entirely at odds with most everything we can infer from the field of quantum physics. We have come a long way in the manner in which we define our physical world, from a “scientific” viewpoint, just in the time I have been alive. When I was an undergraduate chemistry student, the only application of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle that I knew of referred to the position and momentum of an electron: the better we were able to determine the position, the less we knew about its momentum. I’m sure we still teach that. However, in more recent times, Heisenberg is cited widely in all areas of inquiry, namely that we now assume the mere observation of a phenomenon fundamentally changes it. That brings me back to “what is the ‘real world’ anyway?”

I initially became an organic chemist because it was, at that time, my way of “knowing the world.” My experience of the universe had a lot more to do with chemical kinetics and reaction mechanisms of carbon-based molecules than it did with anything having to do with human beings. I was darn good at what I did back then, publishing several articles as a grad student, but one of the reasons I moved on to explore other things in my life, is that I truly believed that there was more than one way of knowing the world and I wanted to continue “knowing” as much, and in as many ways, as I could. People had always fascinated me, and I eventually moved on from researching reaction mechanisms to inquiring about individual-, group- and organizational-dynamics.

Which brings us to “knowing.” The primary epistemological question is: what does it mean to know? (or: what is knowledge?) This is the question of continuing, and endless, philosophical debate. A question that fascinates me. Do you have an answer to what it means “to know” something? Were you, like me, attracted to science because you wanted to know, inquire, research, explore?

If so, shouldn’t we be saying something in our goals for the natural sciences that speaks directly to why and how we inquire into our physical universe (note I didn't say “reality”). What else we should be identifying as goals, I’m not entirely sure ... so I don’t really have a definitive set of goal statements that would replace the ones we received. I do know there is language out there, proposed by other science departments, that probably more closely match my world view, however.

For example, the General Education Core Curriculum of the State of Illinois, states that the purpose for studying science is to:

● develop students’ understanding of the methods of scientific inquiry, including the formulation and testing of hypotheses;

● familiarize students with selected scientific principles in the physical and life sciences;

● enable students to make informed decisions about personal and societal issues.

OK, well, maybe this is enough of a monologue for today! (I think there was a point to all of this.) I would like you all to participate. I would like for us to examine who we are as scientists. And I would like to translate all of that into goals for the sciences that we feel comfortable with in our public declaration.

I welcome your thoughts, ideas, opinions, and competing views...

REALness, Authenticity & Leadership

I last wrote on the topic of becoming REAL (as defined in The Velveteen Rabbit). Actually, the more time I spend thinking about this topic, the more I’m coming to the place that that kind of REALness is more accurately aligned with age, maturity, wisdom, and being SIGNIFICANT to someone else. Yes, the Velveteen version of REALness appears to be a response to being loved for a long time.

Typically, though, I think of the term “being REAL” as being AUTHENTIC. I believe that being authentic is a critical factor to success in human relationships in general, and effective leadership in particular. Authenticity leads to trust which can lead to great things being accomplished.

You might ask: what exactly is authenticity?

Well, the phrase “bein’ who you are” comes to mind, first of all. Being real or authentic has a lot to do with displaying your true self to the world, without pretenses or “phoniness” (as Holden Caufield might say). Openness, honesty, and transparency are also other synonyms that seem to fit. At any rate, traits such as these in an individual are ones that I admire, am attracted to, and lead me to trust another. I will trust someone when I believe (when I feel) that the other person is allowing me in enough to see who they really are. They tell the truth. Their defenses are down; they allow themselves to be vulnerable. They are, simply, human, and comfortable with themselves. I love the connection that’s possible when individuals are truly authentic with each other.

I see authenticity as an important characteristic of great leaders, as well. Leaders by definition, after all, need followers. And, what inspires one to follow? Well, trust, of course. How could I possibly be expected to follow somebody I don’t trust?

So: Who do I trust: Who can I trust?

Answer: Someone I really know.

In my role as an academic dean at a college, my role is one of leadership. It is that by definition; anyone with the title of “dean” has some power by virtue of the position and can exert leadership (demand followership?) — if you think that that’s really possible. My style is not to rely on power, control, and role-definition, though, but rather to provide a kind of leadership based on trust: trust in me, trust in my decisions, trust that I’ll do the right thing, trust that I’m someone who has everyone’s best interest in my mind and in my heart.

When I came on board as the “interim dean” (and I'm still interim, eighteen months later), Katrina asked me what my priorities were going to be. I said, “relationships. This is probably not what you’d expect your Science & Technology Dean to say, but that’s me: not necessarily talking, thinking, or behaving like a science guy. I knew that to be successful (not ever having been a dean, department chair, or even a full-time faculty member anywhere, ever), I would have to build the trust of those around me as rapidly as I could. During the very first meeting of the entire Science & Technology Division, the first day of Fall term, I deliberately started to work on building that trust. At the beginning of that meeting, I took a healthy portion of time to “tell my story.” I outlined my biography, highlighting a few of the twists and turns that I’ve taken in my personal and professional life, and exposing, I guess, some of my “philosophy of life.” I believed then, and I still do, that this was a very important thing for me to do in terms of relationship- and trust-building.

I’m told that I’m an effective leader. If such is the case, then I think that’s happened because people trust me. And, I believe that they trust me because they know me. My goal is to be as honest and forthright as I possibly can, with no secrets and no secret agendas. I am who I say I am, do what I say I’m going to do when I say I’m going to do it — and do my job as competently and conscientiously as possible.

I don’t think that great leadership ever happens without trust. And, in my case, I know I could not ever see myself in a leadership role without letting those around me, know me.