Charcoal clouds to the west lie low on the mountains. An acerbic sun shines harshly on the San Luis Valley, any hint of its warmth whisked quickly away by the winter wind. The highway runs directly from point A to point B, with nothing but the occasional tumbleweed blocking the view of the San Juan, Sangre de Christo and Culebra ranges.
I can see them a mile away, broken-down on the side of the road. Two people with thumbs out, a string of vehicles march past unabated. I pull over.
They come to my window, arms pulled in tight against their body, hands shoved into pockets, woefully under-dressed for the weather. Their truck broke down an hour ago, they say; they just need a ride a few miles up valley; I am the first one that stopped. The margin between subconscious and conscious - the land of biases and survival instincts - automatically takes notes and raises a few red flags.
This much is certain - they are quite cold.
Conversation lowers my guard as we roll together down the highway. A cell phone battery died; a deadbeat friend decided to go bowling in Monte Vista instead of coming to help; a girlfriend had to work until 7:00; a step-brother is living at the family shack and trying to get his life together after a stint in juvenile.
I am directed left onto a dirt road, a mile later right onto a smaller dirt road. "It is just a little further." Then left onto what would pass as a cow path if it weren't for the cattle guard blocking bovine progress. We pass by the middle of nowhere. We are ostensibly heading toward said shack. "It is just a little further. Just a little further."
I attempt to be discreet with my cell phone at the ready. Not that there is any signal out here.
They are profuse in their gratitude, in a profanity-laced sort of way. It reminds me of some of my roughneck cousins back home; I smile. A spiritual happiness of sorts wells up, like when you realize that the world just might not be as messed up as it sometimes seems. The valley graces me with sanguine alpenglow.
Trust - it is at the core of effective relationships, communities, and organizations.
In The Speed of Trust, Stephen M.R. Covey asserts four key components of trust, from the organizational perspective. 1) Integrity to walk your talk. 2) Intent to pursue straightforward motives based on mutual benefit. 3) Capabilities that inspire confidence to get things done. 4) Results that reveal our track record and follow through.
I add a fifth key component: the leap of faith.
My decision to pick up the young men stranded in the high desert at the height of winter with the sun quickly absconding probably falls under Covey's concept of blind trust (as opposed to smart trust). It involved an unidentifiable risk of the unknown. But I took this leap of faith with great intentionality. Sometimes a leader needs to risk one's sense of self in order to prove that greater ideals still animate our higher potential, regardless of the naysayers (and they are many).
Now I don't advise that you pick up hitchhikers on a daily basis, metaphorical or otherwise. My episode was a moment in time in which the stars aligned to provide me with a test of my own personal integrity to walk the talk. But I do advise that you take smaller leaps of faith frequently to demonstrate the trust that you place in your family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues.
The realist in my office likes to protest: "But Troy - what if they take advantage of you?!?"
Some have and others will. But far more have graciously honored the trust I have offered them. I am certain that exposing my flank engenders reciprocity of trust in the great majority. And I wager that each act of vulnerable trust nudges the great needle of the universe toward a fuller realization of our true potential.
I am as strategic as they come. In fact, my Meyers-Briggs preference is colloquially known as Mastermind. By default, then, I am prone toward smart trust, to weighing the pros and cons of an action, to treat trust as a sort of leadership capital to be expended along the lines of a budget. But we cannot conflate trust with strategy masquerading as trust. We must take the leap of faith - though the naysayers will say "ill-advised" - in order to enliven the true bond of trust.
"Failing is just a part of the journey and a step toward figuring things out," writes Mike Maddock, a blog contributor at Forbes. "Do you fear failure or have you made it a part of your everyday practice?"
History documents well case after case of individuals that have failed at something - often repeatedly - before achieving success. Common examples range for Michael Jordan to Steve Jobs to the Wright brothers. In the lingo of human development and innovation, they have "failed forward."
The key tenets of failing forward include: 1) the courage to take risks in the first place that may well lead to failure; 2) the maturity to not let failure beat you down; 3) the wisdom to honestly assess your failures in order to learn from them; and 4) the strength to persist with dogged determination until you reach your success.
Mason Jennings sings, "How long you are down depends on how you rise." The psychologist Carol Dweck encourages us to adapt a "growth mindset." The philosopher Hegel wrote that history moved forward through a dialectic of thesis, antithesis and synthesis.
I can tell you a personal story about the day that I knelt hunched over, sweaty and exhausted, atop a garbage dump (literally). I was in North Dakota at a city park (that was built over said dump as a reclamation project), having just failed miserably at the regional championship of cross-country running. I was a junior in college. According to the script, I eventually picked myself up, dusted myself off, and diligently went to the hard work required to take my running to the next level. A year later, I triumphantly ran the best race of my life.
So yes, consider deeply the tenets of failing forward, and incorporate this growth mindset to your academic and professional career. Put yourself out there; pick yourself up and learn from your failures; never stop until you reach your success.
And How
The narrative of failing forward can be seductive. You fail; you make a heroic comeback; you succeed. It is the American Dream. It is Hollywood. It can be deceptive.
So let me add this: how you fail, and how you learn from it matters. Because failure in itself does not always lead to success. And failure is not necessarily a good thing all the time. So allow me to add three qualifiers to the tenets of failing forward.
1. Not all failure is equal. Failing a History class despite long hours studying and tutoring provides a noble learning experience with a chance of future success. Failing a History class because you were too lazy to study and too unmotivated to attend class is not noble and should not be celebrated.
2. Quitting is not always a bad thing. Let's be real: if you put forth a strong effort yet fail College Algebra three semesters in a row, it might be best to quit your dream of being an Engineer. Sometimes the lessons of failure can be hard to hear.
3. Pursue your strengths. You may not fail as much at a task that aligns with your talents and passions. This is not necessarily a bad thing.
Now, with those caveats noted, go out and push your limits! You very well may fail. Learn from it and grow!
The saying goes, "It is not what you know, but who you know." (In my experience, this saying is a little too sly, for both who you know and what you know matters.) You must ask yourself the question: do they know you?
As a college student, "they" includes fellow students, instructors, support staff, facilities staff, administrators (such as Directors, Deans, and the President), prospective employers, civic leaders...the list goes on and on.
I will be the first to admit that I have long despised the high praise assigned to the concept of networking. As a person that tends toward introversion, I am perfectly content not knowing tons and tons of people; it is exhausting and - to be honest - not always that interesting. As a rationalist, it is frustrating to think that "It is not what you know, but who you know." How are you supposed to be effective if you don't know what you are doing?
Nevertheless, I have undergone a change of heart - of sorts - through some of my personal and career experiences of late. Like it or not, it does matter who you know and networking is important.
If it helps, think of it as friendraising. We all like having friends. Friends share with us. They provide honest feedback. They introduce us to other friends.They make even the most unexciting of activities enjoyable. Friends go out of their way to help us.
For example, does each of your instructors know your name? Do they know your career goals? Do they know a little bit about your day to day life? Because if they do, they can guide your learning better and point you in the direction of good opportunities. And if "life happens," you will have someone in your corner that wants to see you succeed in class nevertheless.
So go introduce yourself to your instructors after class during the first week of school. Stop by during office hours to ask questions about an assignment. Ask them advice for how to be successful in the course. Ask them why they choose the career of teaching. Say "Hi Mr. So and So" when you see them in the hallway. Shoot the breeze.
If you are like me and not necessarily a born chit-chatterer and tend to run out of things to talk about fairly quickly, remember this: people universally appreciate the chance to tell someone about their passions and interests and experiences. Most people also like to give advice and share their perspectives.
What do you think about that?
I am a commencement banner assistant. On that wonderful evening in May, I march in with the graduates of Community College of Denver. The energy is electric! I hear stories of success from the students. I give high fives to grandmas in the front row as we proceed into the arena. I cheer my lungs out when TRIO graduates walk across the stage. It is hard to be anything but beaming!
Yet, despite my joy, I cannot escape the discontent. It subtly yet darkly seeps into the perimeter of my vision. The empty space surrounding the graduates manifests the void, the 85% of students that start at Community College of Denver yet fail to reach this penultimate moment. Where are they, if not here tonight?
I know that student success takes multiple shapes and forms, and graduation is not the sole marker. Students swirl through higher education as their life ebbs and flows. There are things both within and outside of the control of the student and the institution.
Yet, the void stirs indignation.
I know the minimal graduation rates are not due to lack of effort on behalf of our students, faculty, and staff. I witness many a determined student putting in long hours at school only to work the night shift. I observe faculty bending over backwards to facilitate student learning. And I see staff deploying expansive and intentional support programs.
Yet, the void stirs indignation.
I know that CCD opens doors and takes risks on students even when the road is long and the hill steep. I am wary of completion strategies that limit access. I believe that any time spent in higher education, even if incomplete, benefits the student and society.
Yet, the void stirs indignation.
Therefore, it is time to take our effort to the next level of sophistication.The mission of the Persistence and Completion Committee (PCC) is to assesses CCD-specific data to drive persistence and completion strategies while fostering a collaborative institutional culture and advocating more universally for improved measures of student success.
The PCC is a cross-functional team with a robust five year plan and the guidance of data mentors at the Higher Learning Commission. We are using institutional data, a longitudinal study, program and department level data, and student surveys to identify the key markers of success and most significant barriers to completion.
Our major deliverables include three meta-analysis reports, learning analytics tools, guided college-wide conversations, and publication of findings and successes to a wider audience.
More to come. For our students!
