what’s wrong with acc
and how to fix it
Matthew’s previous
post in this series
Part 2: Trust
What image captures how ACC functions as a whole?
Think of ACC as an orchestra: We have lots of people playing the instruments they’ve worked to master, and each one has a “part” of the whole piece of music, the part that each instrument and player contributes. And we have conductors, those who are responsible for the ensemble and for the music we make together.
That’s a lovely image, full of harmony (ha ha!) and passion and togetherness — but a pretty image can hide important features of how the organization actually operates.
Think of a barrel organ, a music-making machine that plays an encoded piece of music when a crank is turned. That machine involves an assortment of self-contained, unthinking cogs and gears and pipes that perform their different functions, and a crank that makes it all work — plus, of course, a Crank-Turner. Thinking of ACC as a barrel organ is . . . less nice.
According to this mechanistic view, decision-making is just turning the crank and churning out a pre-determined result. Change reduces either to replacing or reforming specific gears, or to how you turn the crank. If we file a rough edge off this gear or replace that cog, or if we turn the crank differently — faster or slower, for instance — then everything falls into place, and the whole big beautiful machine runs according to plan and out comes the music.
One problem with this mechanistic view of an organization is that it’s largely a delusion in the mind of some aspiring Crank-Turner. Yes, the barrel organ is predictable and pretty easy to control — but it only knows one song.
Something happens when people bring their talent and knowledge and experience together to form an ensemble. It’s not easy — as most musicians will tell you — but when a group of people are playing together as an ensemble, it’s as if everyone feels what brought them together, they breathe it together, all in the same way — and the result is music with the power to transport and transform.
What is that sense of feeling together in mission? How can we get that for ourselves, here at ACC?
Let’s start by making a distinction between trust and confidence. Trust is cheap. Try this: Turn to someone near you and take turns telling each other, “I trust you.” Of course, being human beings, we may get a lovely surge of positive emotion, a warm glow, from being told we’re trusted. But when the glow fades, that feeling of trust is akin to putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich you know you’re gonna have to eat anyway.
Confidence, the way I want to define it, is operational, not subjective. Confidence is the engine of partnership, and the reason for its power lies in its roots: con + fidere = trusting with, trusting together.
Confidence is not just about having a shared vision and all of us trusting it. Operationally, confidence is about trusting each other, as an integral part of that vision of making the future. That’s not a subjective state or an emotional glow. It’s work, and it takes daily re-commitment to working together toward our shared mission.
Instead of slathering on one condiment after another and hoping something makes the sandwich palatable, let’s look at what it’s like when we approach the challenge of joint action and deliberation from the perspective of confidence. How do we practice confidence?
A parable: Years ago, when ACC was first wired for networking, I had the idea that we could save money and get high-quality printing if we installed network-attached printers and made them available to everyone on the network. I was invited to present this novel idea at the Technology Committee for my campus. At the beginning of the meeting, one of the participants reported that many faculty and staff had reported problems connecting their computers to the network. The chair of the committee turned to an admin and said — in complete earnestness — “Send an email to all campus faculty and staff with instructions on how to connect their computers to the network.” Seriously.
Hold on, I said. I’m sorry to interrupt, but how, exactly, are they going to get this email if they can’t connect to the network?
There were Ohs and Ahs around the table, and, in a moment of apparent enlightenment, the chair of the committee turned to me and said, “Why aren’t you on this technology committee?!?”
To which I immediately responded: Probably because I know something about technology.
What would an organization committed to confidence-inducing practices choose to believe about itself and leadership and decision-making? People higher up the chain don’t have superior insight: Rather they have a greater responsibility for orchestrating a robust, viable future for the institution as a whole. Like the conductor, whose task is to facilitate an ensemble.
Let me ask you: What would you do as a conductor if you needed to make a decision about what the bassoons should be doing? Would you not think it vital to consult the people who actually play bassoon, as part of your deliberation?
If we adopted confidence-inducing practices — together with our core mission as an article of faith — wouldn’t leaders establish genuine partnerships with the people in the institution who have the expertise and experience that makes the institution run? With people on the horizons of the institution, those who implement the future every working day? Wouldn’t they want to hear from those whose roles lie at the core of the mission of the institution?
And wouldn’t leaders listen eagerly to that expertise and experience, and let it inform their decision-making? I mean, really inform — not with a “Thanks for your perspective” and a pat on the head, but with thoughtful action that integrates that expertise in joint action?
I’m not here to issue indictments, but to diagnose and make a suggestion or two about treatment. Don’t take this the wrong way, but if we were serious about inducing confidence in our decision process, wouldn’t we involve instructional leaders in those conversations up and down and across the institution? Doesn’t the core mission of the institution — educating people — doesn’t that mission make the perspective of instructional leaders relevant to everything we do?
Let me offer one example, again as a symptom and not as an indictment.
As dean of LAHC, I have done a lot to make dual credit work well in my division. It’s been tough. There are a great many moving parts, and I’ve learned a lot about what a solid, functional dual credit program looks like. At the risk of self-congratulation, I’m doing alright with dual credit. But not once, ever, has anyone at the top asked me, “How are you making dual credit work? What are the challenges you face? How did you overcome them?” No doubt most instructional leaders here can sing the same song about their own successes.
So what would you say of an institution with that experience and expertise — not to mention the commitment and passion for the work — what would you say about not consulting and integrating that wealth into the music of the whole orchestra? Would you say, Barrel Organ?
Let me be clear: I am not impressed by calls to do away with leaders and run the institution by consensus, mainly because those arguments tend to come from people who think they should have power and that they would be leaders — by consensus no doubt — as soon as the current leaders were out of their way.
No, I believe that oversight and leadership are essential, but the question to ask is: What relationship should the conductor have with the people who actually play the instruments?
I often hear that the problem of trust can be resolved by better communication. I understand the motivation, but if that is your urge, I ask you to consider the possibility that you are inadvertently buying into the Barrel Organ model. Does the music get better when you crank the machine faster? Can we afford to address poor communication by turning the crank in the right direction? At least consider that good communication is the effect of confidence-inducing practices, not their cause.
Inducing confidence in our institution requires a fundamental and genuine respect for the expertise and experience, both of the leaders and of the members of the ensemble, and it requires the will to put that respect into practice by equally genuine inclusion, consultation, and joint action.
The music we make tells the truth about us. Are you listening?
Up next: Intention
