Is it good to be curious?

Look up at the stars

I’m curious about curiosity. I've noticed that when people talk about curiosity, I become curious. At the start of the London 2012 Paralympics, I was moved by Professor Stephen Hawking’s speech, when he urged us to be curious. “Look up at the stars, not down at your own feet. Try to make sense of what you see. Be curious.” Now I quote Stephen Hawking whenever I talk about leadership. Curiosity is an essential part of leadership. 

The ‘need to know’ rule

When I worked at the Ministry of Defence (MoD), there was a rule called ‘the need to know’. This meant you could only access information that you needed to do your job. There was a lot of secrecy. I took care not to ask too many questions about certain topics, in case someone should suspect I had an illegitimate interest. Confidentiality was so ingrained in the organisational culture that some people did not tell even their partners where they worked.

  

Incurious George

George Entwistle, the former Director General of the BBC, seems to have followed the ‘need to know’ rule. When told by a senior colleague that Newsnight were making a programme about Jimmy Savile that might affect the Christmas schedule, Entwistle did not ask what the programme was about. He assumed that if there were anything to worry about he would have been told. There is something admirable and trusting about Entwistle’s behaviour. No micro-managing for him. Entwistle told MPs that it would have been wrong for him to show "an undue interest".  It was not curiosity that killed his career, but lack of it.

‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’

The Americans had a rule that seemed like a curious twist on the British ‘need to know’. In 1993 President Clinton issued a defense directive that military applicants should not be asked about their sexual orientation. This became known as ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’. I don’t imagine for a minute that this stopped people showing an 'undue interest' in each others’ sexuality. President Obama abolished the ban on gays and lesbians serving openly in the military in 2012.

Striking a balance between curiosity and trust

As with all things, however, there is a balance to be struck. Curiosity can turn into 'undue interest'. Trusting that people will tell you what you need to know, however, is a kind of recklessness. What might we have missed at the MoD because someone with an idea or a relevant piece of information was deemed to be outside the ‘need to know’ category? Being curious helps us to make sense of what is happening in the world. Curiosity is part of what makes us human. 

Curiouser and curiouser

I like very much the episode in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, where Alice meets the Cheshire cat at a fork in the road.  “Which road should I take?”, Alice asks the cat.  “Where do you want to go?” asks the cat. When Alice says she does not know, the cat says, “Then it doesn’t matter”. We need to know where we want to go. Noticing what is happening around us is the first step towards developing our personal view of the world: both how it is, and how we would like it to be. Curiosity can often lead to new ideas, and a desire to change things for the better.

“I am Curious Yellow”

Am I curious enough? I’m probably not as curious as the heroine of the 1960s film “I am Curious Yellow”, who asks questions about everything. But I completely agree with Stephen Hawking that we need to look up at the stars, not down at our own feet.

Click here to watch the original trailer for "I am Curious Yellow" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVqa05chzT4

A time and a place for learning

Time

My Dad used to say “There’s a time and a place for everything”. Usually, this meant that I was doing something that annoyed him. Time and place are critical factors in the kind of learning programmes that I design. I’ve always been interested in time and the impact that it has on people. When I was a student I was hooked on Anthony Powell’s ‘Dance to the Music of Time’, which follows the lives of a group of people who are changed by time. I also read Proust’s ‘A la Recherche du Temps Perdu’ in its entirety. I’m still not sure what ‘A la Recherche’ is about. But it seems to me that Proust is trying to make sense of what he has learned about himself, and the people he has known. He takes his time to explore the meaning of the loving, the dreaming and the cheating that preoccupy him. And learning, to me, is making sense of everything around us.

Place

I’ve always been sensitive to my surroundings, though you might not think so if you could see the state of my room. I work best if I feel comfortable, and I feel comfortable if I have natural light, order, and quiet. Noel Coward’s ‘Room with a view' will do me nicely. Mallarmé’s vision of ‘Luxe, calme et beauté’ would be an upgrade too far. If I had all that, I would do no work at all, because I would be too comfortable. As a trainer, I know that the look and feel of the working space can make the difference between memorable and forgettable learning experiences. This is true whether the learning takes place face-to-face or virtually. As Steve Jobs said, people do judge books by the cover.

Learning and performing

For me, experiential learning is a lot like performance art. Any learning experience requires the trainer to be set designer, choreographer and conductor. Natural light, space to move and a constant temperature of about 20 degrees create the optimum conditions for learning, creativity and strong growth. Dark, cold and cramped spaces do not work. And timing, as the best comedians know, is everything. Too much time, and people get bored. Too little time, and people get frustrated. The timing of the day matters, too. Too early, and people are not ready to learn. Too late, and people are too tired to engage. I think people learn best when they feel comfortable and challenged. And there is a tension between feeling comfortable, and feeling challenged, which a trainer can regulate by managing the time.

Five Days Learning in Bulgaria

Last week in Sofia, I worked with a team of LEAD Associates on a leadership challenge to do with energy in Bulgaria. In addition to all the people we met, time and place were key players. We apportioned time to different activities: five minutes for each person to talk without interruption in the learning trios, six minutes 40 seconds for a Pecha Kucha, 30 minutes for each conversation at the World Café, one hour for meals.  Longer for drinking coffee, tea and wine, and less time for sleep. The compact nature of the city centre meant that we could walk almost everywhere. From the cosy Hotel Diter, we moved effortlessly from one space to another. Our base in the hotel garden was airy, and the sounds of the city were energising. We used the streets for intimate conversations in pairs. We performed in semi-public spaces like the British Council, The Ideas Factory and the Tea House, meeting local people and sharing what we had learned. During the short intervals between these performances, we used the outdoor cafes in the squares to download information, and plan for the next meeting. We continuously formed, performed, and then moved on. What I learned is that good timing, and imaginative use of space were key to helping our learners make sense of the complex energy challenges and opportunities in Bulgaria. And what I will try to remember is that groups that take responsibility for managing their time, and can adapt to different environments, are more resilient, and have better learning experiences.

As my Dad used to say, ‘There is a time and a place for everything’.

Dancing with pirates: how to build teams that listen

The Pirates of Penzance

“Better be a pirate than join the Navy” Steve Jobs

Lost in translation

A few years ago I was interviewing a young man from Eastern Europe who had applied to join a leadership programme. As I listened to him talking about his experience of working with communities, I had the feeling that he could easily have acquired his knowledge from one of the courses I used to deliver in CIS countries. He described the very tools and methods I used to teach. But from the tone of his voice it seemed to me that the western approach to community development with its emphasis on stakeholder engagement meant nothing to him. It dawned on me that I had made a living from peddling expensive training programmes that did nothing to help the people for whom they were designed. This made me feel very uncomfortable.

“It’s only a game”

Painful as this was, I put my learning to good use recently while working once again in Eastern Europe with a group of senior managers. This time, instead of delivering a set programme, I found myself dancing with pirates. On the first night the trainers and the participants sat across a table, sizing each other up like rival gangs. By way of an informal ice-breaker I tried a simple ‘getting to know you’ type exercise. “Is the training beginning already?” said Pirate Jenny, suspiciously.  “It’s just a game”, I said. The game took so long that it felt like the 30 Years War. “It’s just a game!” said the Pirate King, with a twinkle in his eye. This was the first of many skirmishes between the navy (me and my co-facilitator) and the pirates (the participants). Would the pirates play the game, we wondered, or would they make us walk the plank?

Forming a working alliance

On the second day, we danced a number of rounds using different methodologies. These included postcards, tennis balls, a hoola-hoop, a walk in the woods, and a visit to a local winery. Little by little, we persuaded the pirates to dance with us, and with each other. It was the week-end, after all, and who wants to work on the week-end. The process was similar to what some coaching professionals call “getting alongside the client” and “forming a working alliance”. We, the navy, moored our ship next to the pirates’ galleon. Very quickly they invited us on board. We got to know and like each other. How did this happen?

A picture says more than a 1000 words

I remember a number of breakthrough moments when the conversation flowed naturally, and it seemed to me that we were really learning together. The first such moment happened when we asked the pirates to choose a picture that said something to them about leadership. The pirates chose their pictures carefully, and all of a sudden they were talking to each other and to us about their personal visions of leadership. They shared some quite personal reflections and insights into leadership. Then, without any prompting from the facilitators, the participants volunteered the fact that we had got them talking and listening to each other. Lunch felt a lot more relaxed than supper the previous evening. We had begun to form a working alliance.

Into the woods

In the afternoon the navy and the pirates made up a joint reconnaissance party, and sashayed into the woods. Spring was turning into summer. The bees were buzzing, the sheep were grazing and tiny red flowers refused to be identified in the thick long grass. We sat on a hillside and talked sporadically like characters in a Chekhov play. That night the navy and the pirates partied until 3.00 am. We danced together for hours. This time the dancing was real.

Dancing in our heads

On the final day of the workshop we threw out large parts of our carefully designed workshop. We kept one methodology and one game that we thought fitted perfectly with the group narratives about storytelling, inspiring people and working less while earning more. The high point for me was the moment I noticed we had been standing in a circle in the garden for a long time. We were talking about how to inspire and engage people and somehow it felt completely natural and learner led. No-one sat down, and no-one left. We were dancing in our heads.

Learning from Barbara

Barbara, Daddy and friends Photo: Nadejda Loumbeva

The quick read

In April 2012, LEAD Europe Cohort 16 Fellows and friends set up home in a villa on the edge of Sintra, an historic town near Lisbon. Matias, our host, provided the local knowledge and took us to beautiful places. We lived in an eco-friendly, creatively decorated hostel, with a huge marble kitchen table at its heart. Everything about the building encouraged communal living, including the toilets that had no doors. We had no agenda, and no formal roles and responsibilities. Things emerged. No-one got food poisoning. We are planning the next reunion already.

Leadership and decision-making

In Sintra we talked, cooked, ate, drank, and walked. We visited palaces and gardens. Frank told us about the history of Sintra. Pedro sang for us at supper. Our biggest challenge was decision-making. Matias, our leader by common consent, tried to help us make up our minds. One evening when his wife called to ask when we were going to eat, Matias said “Things are taking a little time. When you have 20 people with 20 opinions...” In Sintra, which is a small town and easy to navigate, we acted as if we had some intention to live independently. Some adventurous souls even went to a restaurant without any help. When we decamped to Lisbon, however, we became entirely dependent on Matias. “What can we see? How do we get there? How do we pay for the tram?”

Accepting oneself and other people

The person who made the biggest impression on me was Ralph’s daughter, Barbara, aged 3. Barbara showed me, aged 50 something, how to be. Barbara shared her bedroom with 5 snoring men most graciously. She got on with her sleeping, waking, washing, and dressing routines without a trace of self consciousness. The men complained about the snoring, the beds, and the toilets. I worried about fitting in, about being older in a younger group, and most of all I worried about getting caught in the toilet with no doors. Barbara just was.

Networking

Barbara navigated our cosmopolitan community with aplomb. She spoke fluent German and French. While Barbara was comfortable with adults she hardly knew, she was obviously delighted when Matias’ young daughter appeared. “C’est  ma copine”, she announced. When Barbara was pleased with me, she licked my hand. When I was annoying, Barbara gave me imaginary ‘coups de marteau’.

Gender Neutral

Barbara insisted on keeping her rag and her doll with her at all times. When I asked Barbara if her doll was a girl or a boy she told me firmly that it was neither a girl nor a boy. “C’est un bebe”.

Giving and receiving help

Barbara’s biggest day was on the Sunday when we went to the beach. Barbara had two falls, one on the cliff path when she got a bruise, and one in the sea when a wave knocked her over. When a child falls and cries, I freeze. I don’t know what to do or how to help. When she fell, Barbara was shocked and tearful. She had signs of bruising on her knee. After a while she recovered.

Barbara’s second fall happened when we were paddling in the sea. The waves seemed quite gentle. A few of us were knee deep in the water. Barbara was somewhere behind us. Then a larger wave came. I turned and Barbara was floating face down in the water. She didn’t get up. It took longer than I expected for 3 or 4 of us to run through the waves to pick her out of the water. 

Barbara’s clothes were soaked. Fortunately Ralph, her father, was carrying a complete change in his bag. One minute I was thinking how quickly a family outing could turn into something else. The next I was watching a protective team of adults getting Barbara out of her wet things, drying her, and dressing her. Barbara accepted the towelling and changing exercise as if she were Marilyn Monroe between takes. Her face was beatific. When Barbara fell into the water, we didn’t have any difficulty making decisions. We acted as a team.

Learning from Barbara

What I learned from Barbara was how to be myself in a group where previously I had been a leader. Being a leader can be a good way to hide. In Sintra, I was part of the group, and I felt OK. We were living in a different place, and people took on different roles. Cooks, food shoppers, and dish washers were self selecting. We managed the transition from single rooms in catered accommodation to shared rooms and self catering. We found purpose in being together without a schedule. I slept better in a room with 4 snoring men and a 3 year old girl than I do by myself at home. Barbara showed me how to cope with a toilet with no doors.

Something very interesting happened at Moodle Camp

We built 10 new e-learning modules

Something very interesting happened at a recent gathering of LEAD Fellows and friends from all over the LEAD network. The event, which took place in London, was called ‘Moodle Camp’. Working in teams, we designed and built 10 new E-Learning modules covering a range of leadership and sustainable development competencies. These new modules will be tested on LEAD Fellows, and then launched in June 2012 at Rio+20. We achieved our goal.This was good.

Learning to take risks
On the 3rd day of the Moodle Camp, we shared the modules with an invited group of experienced leadership and sustainability practitioners from different organisations. I felt we were taking a risk. What if we failed to produce anything worth sharing? How might this affect our reputation as a learning organisation? But succeed we did. Our guests were curious, insightful and enthusiastic. They gave us much constructive feedback that we will incorporate into the beta version of the modules. 'It was good', they said, 'that we had involved them before the modules were finished.' Everyone went home tired and happy. Knowing when to take a risk is a leadership skill.

So what?
“So what?” you might say. E-Learning is not so new. LEAD has specialised in leadership and sustainable development for almost 20 years. If you put a group of LEAD Fellows in a room for 48 hours, and they succeed in creating some E-Learning modules on leadership and sustainable development, what is so interesting or surprising about that? 

What LEAD Fellows love to do

“I agree with you, it's not particularly surprising”, I would say. But that’s not the point. We’ve all seen LEAD Fellows in action at national, regional and international sessions. LEAD Fellows love to work in teams of people from different cultures and sectors. LEAD Fellows take a systems approach; they listen and ask questions, see and think differently, share knowledge, challenge constructively, take risks, explore and uncover innovative solutions. That’s normal for LEAD. 

What was really interesting was learning together
What was really interesting at Moodle Camp was not just that we succeeded in designing and building 10 new products against a very tight deadline. What was really interesting was that we were learning all the time about what makes an engaging E-Learning module. We were learning all the time from, and with each other.

How did we do that? You’ll have to read part 2 of this blog.

To learn more about LEAD go here www.lead.org

i-Facilitation or Open Source? Why facilitators should give learning away

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At a recent gathering of facilitators organized by AMED and the IAF I found myself thinking comparatively deeply. The cause of this creative thinking was a question:

“What are the challenges of building learning capacity in our clients teams and organizations for our profession (facilitators)?”

It took me a little while to understand the question. The challenge seemed to be whether or not facilitators should make themselves redundant by helping their clients to become more effective.

Facilitation to what end?

Idealist that I am, my immediate reaction was to blurt out that people who facilitate learning teams have a duty to develop people, teams and organisations. This line of thinking led me to more questions. What are my principles and values as a facilitator? Why do I facilitate? To what end?

Sustainability or dependency

My work as a facilitator is mainly about building leadership capacity in the context of sustainable development and climate change. If I believe that people are the key to creating a more equitable and sustainable world, then I must be happy when people learn how to do things without me. My approach to learning and leadership is best summed up by a quote from Lao Tse.

“A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.”

When I am working with groups I want them to take stuff away and to feel confident enough to use whatever they have found useful. When someone tells me they have used a tool that I taught them and it worked I am delighted. My aim is to get myself out of the way so that people can get on and change the world. Do I want to encourage dependency? Certainly not.

i-Facilitation or open source?

I remember years ago when I worked as a trainer for a charity, quite often our participants would ask for copies of training exercises. This caused a certain amount of angst in the office where I worked. Should we be giving away materials that had been developed for the charity? Were we doing ourselves out of a job?

The discussion at the AMED / IAF workshop made me think about different business models. Something I had read in a biography of Steve Jobs seemed relevant. Steve Jobs had vision of a walled garden where people bought products curated by Apple. Eventually this became i-tunes. What kind of garden do we want to have as facilitators? Closed or open source? Is it realistic to think that we can stop people from using our tools and models unless they pay a subscription to access to our (metaphorical) platform?

 What goes around comes around

I strongly believe that the more you give away, the more you will get back. If someone asks me for a concept or a training tool I am happy to share it. First of all I am pleased to be asked. Probably this means that they found it useful. Secondly, they most likely see an opportunity to use my materials to help their work with another group.  

The fact is most trainers and facilitators use concepts and models that have been developed by someone else. Few of us are so creative that we ‘own’ all our materials. If we want to build a more equitable society, the answer to the question posed at the workshop is a no-brainer. Give it away!

Take a break: get a new perspective

I’ve just had the most wonderful experience walking with a friend in Torridon, North West Scotland. Only a week ago, we were taking in the beauty of the Cairngorm valley from the window of the Caledonian Sleeper: snow-capped mountains in the distance, stations built like Victorian hunting lodges, silver birch and Dulux white snowdrops growing by the line. Despite the inspiring view, I was worrying about work. Was there anything I had not done that I should have done? Were there things I had done that I should not have done? Even though I slept soundly on the train, I could still feel the ties that bind me to work.

The power of time, distance and novelty 

Removing myself from a situation and waking up in a totally different environment can help to reduce my killer sense of responsibility for everything. After a cooked breakfast at the station hotel, I felt the ties weakening. Maybe it was admiring the grand hotel staircase that is the original of the one in The Titanic. Probably it was the black pudding that helped most. Meeting the owl from the Harry Potter films outside Inverness M & S was magical. With one eye closed and one eye open, she turned her head from side to side like a clockwork toy. I couldn’t help noticing that the owl’s keeper looked very like an owl himself, with his owlish glasses and long snowy white hair. Time, distance and novelty all helped to make me feel less responsible for everything.

Take a SMART challenge

Walking in Torridon for the first time helped me to focus on a practical and immediate goal: getting to Coire Mhic Fhearchair and back safely. Unlike my never ending ‘to do’ list at work, a guided hill walk is a SMART challenge. You know where you are going (specific) and how far you will have to walk (measurable). By turning up you agree (agreed) to the route.  Your guide has assessed your fitness for the walk (realistic) and you know roughly how long the walk will take (timebound). Ryan, our guide, showed us the remains of a Lancaster bomber that crashed in Coire Mhic Fhearchair in 1951. He had recently taken part in a ceremony to mark the 60^th anniversary of the crash. Someone had cut the wreath from the skeletal wing of the plane.

The Importance of Treats

When you have walked to one of the most beautiful places in the world, it’s quite all right to stop for tea and scones. A gin martini can add value to the view from the hotel of the loch and the mountains. It would be impolite not to drink local beer and eat haggis with 2 GPs, an anaethetist, and an accountant in the bar. Talking nonsense to strangers is a good way to see how far you can reinvent yourself. Losing (respectably) at the pub quiz is part of the fun.

Cathedrals in the sky

The hills of Torridon look as if Andy Goldsworthy has arranged them. They guard the entrances to valleys like sphinxes. They change colour in the evening sun. Scottish hills are a bit of a tease. Sometimes they hide in the clouds. Just when you have forgotten about his existence, Ben Eighe will reappear. Several walkers in our group said that being in the mountains gives them a sense of humility. Ryan McLean, our mountain guide, has lived in Torridon all his life. When challenged by the local minister to come to church, Ryan told him that walking in the mountains is his equivalent of going to church. Seeing the mountains through Ryan’s eyes made me question why I live in London. If you want a different perspective, try going for a walk in the hills of Torridon. 

http://www.thetorridon.com/inn/

Writing proposals: make it easy on yourself II

Part Two

What do you need to write a proposal the easy way?

Start with your objectives: It’s easy to write the paragraph about your organisation and what it does. This is the equivalent of picking the chocolate chips off the cookie. What you need to do first is write the aims and objectives. This will give you a framework for your proposal and some boundaries. If something is not covered by your objectives, don’t waste space writing about it. Or review your objectives if you think they do not cover what you want to achieve. Then describe what you are going to do, how you are going to do it, and what the impact will be. When you have done all that you will be able to write an elegant proposal summary that will knock the assessors’ socks off.

Ask for feedback Ask your colleagues (Nina in my case), to read what you have written and to edit what you have written. Unless you have a particular reason for writing something in a particular way, accept the changes immediately. Nina looked surprised when I said I liked her changes to my text. Note to self: I must work harder at listening to feedback.

Lay in provisions: Just before we started to write Nina asked me if I would like anything to eat. She brought me a tasty box of baklava. ‘Honey is good for energy’, said Nina, and she was right.

Be realistic:  At 10.00 pm I said to Nina “Please read what I have written so far. If you really don’t like it, let’s give up now and have a beer”. Nina said she liked it. We decided to give it another two hours. Supposing Nina had not liked what I had written then I think I hope I would have had the good sense to say let’s stop because we don’t have time to make it better. Martyrdom when writing proposals is not required.

Take breaks: After a while Nina’s eyes hurt and my back ached. We got up, walked around. I made a cup of tea, Nina had a smoke. Each to her/his own.

Stay focused: Decide the order of the tasks and keep going. When I was worrying about not having the specified number of words for a section, Nina said wisely: “Better to have quality than padding”.

Tell each other what you enjoyed

At close to midnight Nina and were alive and fully functioning. I could not believe the energy we had created just by collaborating on something we both cared about. We told each other how much we had enjoyed working together. We sent each other e-mails congratulating ourselves on our achievement. We swopped texts till the early morning.

Can you fall in love with someone while writing a proposal in an office late at night? I bet it happens all the time...They should make a film about that, maybe Brad Pitt and Angela Jolie could play the hero and heroine...