When I was an undergraduate student at the University of Richmond, I had a psychology class in Jepson Hall, near the business and law schools, two buildings I had avoided as I was generally hanging out closer to places you could hear pianos playing, see people painting, and participate in social experiments.
I learned that Jepson was the hub of the University's leadership program when I saw a flyer on a bulletin board encouraging students to major in leadership studies. It may as well have said underwater basket weaving. Seriously? What is there to know? How could there be an entire curriculum built around this? Was there even research on it? Were there real skills that could be taught? I couldn't figure out how it fit into a university where we studied things like language, biology, calculus, even theater.
I scoffed.
I did NOT major in it.
I did NOT take any classes in it.
But I did keep pondering it.
It turns out the University of Richmond was on to something, something that universities across the globe have borrowed from as these programs have grown in prevalence and relevance in the decades since its founding.
Because I couldn’t pinpoint where or how I had learned it, I assumed it was not something that could be taught.
I am writing this from my office at The Artisan Leader, where the core services I provide are under the phrase leadership development.
Irony is fun, yes?
What changed? Or, perhaps the better question, what changed me?
First, experience: I have had jobs where I saw that authority was not the same as leadership but I couldn’t really explain it. I've watched policies change in organizations in response to a crisis, and felt curious about how that happened. I've seen how one person in a group can change the way an entire meeting goes – from how it feels to be in the room to who got a voice to what decision was made and how it was communicated. I've been a parent and tried to figure out how to help my kids do the right thing without always telling them what the right things was.
Second, great teachers. I was invited to become a student of leadership again, at the age of 33, after a few short months as CEO of a $22 million company. This time the invitation came through a conversation with someone who directed a program at a nearby university, a woman who would become a dear friend. This time, I said yes. The difference between the 18-year-old and the 33-year-old? I knew I needed help.
I had been trying to find answers to questions that no book seemed to adequately answer:
How do I talk to a director about their poor performance?
How do I make sure we all leave the meeting with the same understanding?
How do I make a decision that I know is right but that will hurt some people and confuse others?
How do I figure out what we need to do this year to make sure that we survive the next five?
How do I know when enough is enough even though I didn’t solve everything?
How do I move forward when I messed up?
They were the kinds of questions that could have a thousand answers, but most of the time I came up empty. They were the kind of questions, I soon found out, that most everyone had, but that no one ever talked about.
In leadership class, we could talk about it. We learned models for approaching tough scenarios, practiced skills to help us handle challenges, mined wisdom from ours and others’ experiences. Perhaps the most abiding lessson I learned was that leading well was less about perfection and more about presence.
A decade later, I am leaning into my role as teacher. I am now the one with the flyer inviting you to step into the classroom. Share your big questions, the questions that you don’t want to ask your boss or your peers. Learn models. Practice skills. Gain some clarity, some confidence.
This fall, The Artisan Leader is launching a nine-course series called Leading with Presence (not perfection). It is built around some of my core beliefs: Leadership is practice, not position. It is available to us all. We have a responsibility to lead well. And: it is a highly creative endeavor, one that requires our presence and non-judgement.
These courses and the coaching that comes with it are designed to help you with practical challenges – like having effective meetings, navigating icky conflicts, and delegating responsibility. They’re also designed to provide safe space to build your capacity in a diverse group of other people invested in their own growth.
So what do I scoff at now?
Memes that oversimplify leadership into catchy phrases.
So-called “experts” who say that have all the answers.
Self-care that has been boiled down to taking long baths.
Five-step plans to becoming successful.
And, some days, I scoff at myself, when life serves up a moment that shows me I’d forgotten I still have a lot to learn.