The Goldilocks Zone of Leadership

The "Goldilocks Zone" refers to a habitable area of space in which planets can conceivably support liquid water, a key ingredient for life. It is the optimal proximity to a star- neither too close, nor too far. It's just right.

Similarly, the challenge of leadership requires us to find that same optimal zone. Effective, innovative leaders must work to create that "just right" environment in which staff and students feel supported and inspired to be their best selves, to take risks and to explore new opportunities. My ongoing challenge is to determine that "just right" level of support. Too much can leave staff and students feeling overwhelmed and undervalued. Too little can lead to stagnation and disengagement.

I'd like to say that I've discovered the perfect balance, that just right zone. But leadership is not a perfect science. There's no exact measurement, no fail safe formula that can be applied to a vibrant and dynamic school community. Because a school community is comprised of a myriad of complex and variable elements, the most essential and the most complex of which is the human element. 

Fortunately, I'm not alone on this journey to find this "Goldilocks Zone"- the place that provides optimal conditions for learning, innovation and growth. I have help. I can continue to rely on the advice and support of my mentors. I can reflect on the open and honest feedback of my colleagues. And I can listen carefully to voices of my students. The key ingredients...

Not too much.

Not too little.

Just right.

In the End, No One Really Cares

The other day, I told a student that I didn't care if he failed. I'm sure he thought I was crazy. And likely the counsellor who was sitting in on the conversation was thinking the same thing. To her credit, she didn't say it out loud.

The student that I was speaking to had been missing classes. In the first month and a half of classes, he'd probably missed more than he'd attended. As a result of this, and several other factors, he was failing all of his classes. One of which he was repeating for the second time. He had come to school on this day, late, but he'd come. Perhaps as a result of the conversation that I'd had with his mom the day before. To be honest, I was just so happy to see him, all I could do initially was grin at him. Thus the, "this woman is crazy" look on his face...

As we waited for his counsellor to join us, I asked him what his favourite thing was about school. He stared at me blankly, and then slowly began to shake his head from side to side. He didn't know. He couldn't think of anything. Although I maintained my smile, inside my heart was sinking. A month a half into school, and there wasn't a single thing that this student could think of that he liked so far. But after a minute or two of gentle probing, he finally thought of something. He liked cooking. Awesome.

In attempt to put him at ease a bit, I began to tell him a little about myself. I'm new to the school, and so I'm meeting many of our 1200 students for the first time. I shared that I'd struggled in school myself, that I'd also failed classes. His eyes widened. I told him that when I'd interviewed for my current position, no one had asked me when I'd learned how to read (grade 2), how many times I'd failed math (twice), or how many awards I'd won (one, in grade 8 Band- thank you Mr. Green). They didn't care about any of that stuff. They just cared about where I was now.

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As the counsellor entered, our conversation continued. I told him that "success" might look a little bit different for him. It might take him a few more times through a course, an extra year in high school, some additional support through it all. And I also told him that I didn't care if he failed a class. I just wanted him to come. That we would worry about the whole "passing" thing a little later on...

As we set out a plan for the following week, one that includes him stopping by in the mornings to say hi to me before he sets off for class, I reminded him that five, ten years from now, no one would really care where he'd started out...they would just care where he finished. I'm not sure if he believed me. He probably still thinks I'm a bit crazy. But as long as I get to say hi to him every single morning next week, I'm ok with that...

My one & only. Thank you Mr. Green. 

On the Edge

I am fortunate to have some incredibly wise people in my life. And although I'm notorious for being a bit of a "loner", fiercely independent, and let's just say, a wee bit stubborn, I have come to understand that I need these people in order to continue to learn, to grow, and to expand my perspective of the world around me.

I was recently reminded by one such wise individual of the saying, learning happens on the edge of understanding. The challenge for me is to figure out where that edge is. It means something different for each of us, and it is often a scary and uncomfortable place to be. It should be. Because it means taking a risk, pushing past the familiar, the "known" and charging into uncharted territory. Scary stuff for sure. But as scary as it is, I have gradually learned to embrace, even seek out that feeling. Rather than allowing myself to recoil, to pull back, I have learned to teeter on that edge for a moment, and then force myself over the precipice, on to the other side. Sometimes I can do this myself, and sometimes I need a gentle shove. It's always uncomfortable. It's always scary. And usually the landing on the "other side" is less than graceful, more often than not accompanied by a few bumps and bruises. But, the rewards are enormous!

I've been fortunate over this past year to have had several opportunities to find my edge and to push beyond it to experience new learning, new understanding. Whether it's through yoga, climbing a mountain, or challenging myself professionally, I am learning that although it's often a scary and uncomfortable place to be, with the patient support and guidance of some very wise people in my life, it is also kind of awesome. My intention for the year ahead is to continue to reflect, to explore, to risk and to find new edges...

What's your edge?