It was a dusty day in Kitwe when I
walked out of the blinding sun into the stick and tin structure serving as a small
church. Inside, I there was a seemingly random assortment of middle aged men in
suits, breastfeeding mothers, and a handful of nuns sitting on log benches
oiled shiny by the skin of countless worshippers. I clenched a bundle of notes,
some typed some handwritten and photocopied with my own chicken scratch on the
margins. My 70-something colleague Dave had handed them to me and mildly wished
me luck. I squinted my eyes at them all across the Atlantic trying to make
sense of all this talk of progress disciple-making, foundational assumptions,
and strange sounding acronyms. Then it was show time.
I’m not much of a teacher now. But
in 2010, fresh out of seminary and woefully insecure, I’m certain I put those
nuns to sleep as I droned on reciting every sentence in those notes, inserting
my own dry anecdotes and instantly getting lost and having to search the page
to find my next bullet point. Every Zambian there assured me after four days
that the seminar was a true inspiration and had changed their lives forever. In
my memory Dave said something like, “yeah okay not bad for your first time.”
Thanks Dave.
I suppose I began to believe that
if I could just become a more eloquent and confident teacher, mastering those
notes and perfecting my delivery, maybe then I actually could change some lives. So for the next few years I tried. Oh I
tried. And I improved. I left the notes on the podium. My anecdotes got better.
I inserted my own fiery convictions. And people in the Congo, Ethiopia, and
Ghana assured me that with increasing fervor that I was changing their lives
forever with my revolutionary teachings. But I couldn’t shake this sneaking
suspicion that most of those people were going home and setting their eagerly
scratched notes reverently on a pile of notes from other life-changing seminars
about farming practices, micro-enterprises, social entrepreneurship, or
community health and then going about their real lives as usual. I can’t blame
them. I’ve done the same thing countless times after any number of life
changing conferences, retreats, and special events. That is, I’ve done nothing.
I might discuss those new ideas with a couple friends or dream of some new
possibilities, but in the end, my “real life” calls me back to earth.
I came across and
interesting article in Forbes recently that told me what I long suspected
but preferred not to hear: leaders aren’t trained. Leaders are developed. In
fact the article went on to tell me that most leadership “trainings” do more
harm than good. How could this be? Because, one friend told me as we discussed
it, trainings can give people the
impression that they have changed when in fact they haven’t. They’ve been inspired,
educated, and convinced but not changed. Change happens in the nitty gritty
behavioral choices we make tomorrow morning, next month, and next year. Because
a seminar is a radically different environment from our daily lives, it is
harder than we think to make that application leap. I’m not saying it doesn’t
happen. It does. But it requires a level of inspiration, personal conviction,
and reinforcing experiences that most people will never attain in a seminar and
no lecturer can guarantee no matter how eloquent.
So what’s a trainer to do?
First we need to pay attention to
how people learn. I promise you, a content-heavy lecture is NOT how people
learn. They learn by discussing. They learn by reinforcing experiences. Most of
all, they learn by teaching others. They learn through a frequent
teacher-student feedback loop.
Second, we need to be willing to
get into the nitty gritty. Visionary types like me hate the nitty gritty. I don’t know, it’s just so... nitty gritty. But as they say, the devil
is in the details. So let’s say I just blew your mind with the seminar to end
all seminars. What are you really going to do with it tomorrow? Have I made it
abundantly clear what I want you to
do? Do you think you can do it? Did I give you the resources and materials to
do it? Do you feel it would be worth it? Who is going to remind you to do it when the gravity well of the status quo starts
calling you? Who do you ask when you have a question or run into a problem? I’m
afraid I haven’t had good answers for those questions in the past. I’ve just hoped they would figure it out.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying
these last 6 years of training national leaders has been a waste. I genuinely
believe that many people’s lives have been impacted. And along the way, I’ve
been intentional about building friendships with a few key people and nurturing
those friendships over the course of years. Plus I’ve learned a ton and honed a
boatload of my own leadership skills along the way. I’ve gotten comfortable in
Africa and developed a genuine love for my friends and colleagues there. I
would do it all again.
But after this last week in
Zambia, I’ve begun to have some hope beyond my seminar cynicism. I think there
are better pedagogies out there and I think I’m starting to understand what is
required to build a successful leadership community in Africa built around
shared values and practices. It may take more time and energy than I ever
imagined but I think it’s possible and it’s starting to happen. Most
importantly, I think I’m willing to give it a shot. Stay tuned. In part two, I’ll
let you know a bit of what I’ve been implementing this last week and the new
possibilities and challenges we’ll be facing.
No comments :
Post a Comment