Humanizing the Education Machine. Cahill Brian

and what some of the best companies in the world are doing about it.3

      So they thought I was the guy to lead the charge into the dark valley of an obsolete and contaminated education system.

      “But, guys, I know nothing about the education system.”

      “Yes, but you have a process for tackling monster challenges. We think it will work with education.”

      “I don't have a network to recruit from.”

      “We do.”

      Let's be real. That education monster had already killed and eaten far better and smarter people than the four of us at Table 7.

      “My calendar is full and the process is long, involved, and expensive.”

      “How expensive?

      I threw out a number intended to blow their boots off.

      “We think we can come up with the funding.”

      These guys just kept coming. My carefully constructed roadblocks were bouncing right off the road as they plowed into them. So, yes, they were gaining my attention. But, let's be real, the problems in education had formed a monster, a roaring, multitentacled thing. It corrupted and controlled relationships, power centers, money, community spirit, and that very human reach for a better life. And it had already killed and eaten far better and smarter people than the four of us at Table 7.

      But two furniture dealer guys from Florida had decided that I was their man, that I would lead this venture. “O-kayyy,” I muttered, scratching my head and trying to think of something. I bought time by suggesting we identify a list of stakeholders, underwriters, and important voices that might want to contribute. Once we crossed that threshold I outlined a “kick-the-tires” summit to see who would come and how committed they might be to “transforming education.”

      After lunch, I pulled Michael aside and asked if these guys were for real. He grinned. “If this summit comes together, your job is to manage Bill. Just keep him at a safe distance.”

      I didn't hear much from John or Bill for the next six months. Then in mid-August of 2014 I answered my phone. It was Bill.

      “We're ready to launch this thing! What's next?”

      They named the companies and experts they had enlisted. I knew only a few. Worse, I still didn't have any indices for measuring their strengths or their commitment to the journey. My previous two book projects had each required about 30 percent of my focus over a two-year stretch. And that was with people who were battle-tested; we had shared foxholes. Now here I was charging into battle with people I did not know, carrying weapons I did not understand, and facing a giant that had devoured whole communities.

      I rubbed my eyes, took a deep breath, and laid out the road map for the next steps in a process I called “MindShift.”4

      “Okay, guys, we first want to invite key underwriters and experts for a day to present the vision, lay out the timeline and process, practice our action learning workshop approach and tackle some of the issues. At the end of the day we'll take the pulse of everyone's seriousness.

That meeting convened in Tampa, Florida, on October 1–3, 2014 (see Figures 2.1 and 2.2). The participants included architects, furniture manufacturers, school superintendents, and several education experts. I also seeded the room with some of my own invited attendees, people who knew the MindShift process and those who had a link to education. My group included a futurist from Disney, leaders from Balfour Beatty (the third largest school builder in the nation), a Pepperdine professor of education, and a few other trusted companions from my past works.

Figure 2.1 Tampa, Florida, Kickoff Meeting

      The opening energy was high and positive. But, it still took me a while to get past feeling overwhelmed with the byzantine insanity and the sheer impossibility of public education in America. From my years of experience at every level of business, I could see that we were dealing with one of the most fragmented, siloed, contentious, compartmentalized, and toxic institutional hairballs on the planet.

      From my years of experience at every level of business, I could see that we were dealing with one of the most fragmented, siloed, contentious, compartmentalized, and toxic institutional hairballs on the planet.

      I also knew that all interest groups behave tribally, shouting at one another in different languages on behalf of disconnected and incoherent constituencies. So naturally I was afraid that we might fall into gridlock, speaking at each other through our different professional languages and dialects.

      At the same time, it was strangely clear to me that none of those factors would prevent us from going forward. Part of my confidence was in seeing that John and Bill had such a strong and impressive circle of like-minded relationships ready to go. The goodwill in that room brought focus to the mission and not even a nibble on the hairball. I would later learn that how that goodwill was created was the secret to toppling silos.5

Figure 2.2 Michael Lagocki Scribing for Rex Miller

      The diversity of the stakeholders in Tampa, their strong and unique voices, and their deep levels of expertise were all very encouraging. As the facilitator, I had to listen, defer, and watch closely for the places and moments when the energy in the room coalesced. I leaned into the pools of enthusiasm or friction. I stirred each pot a bit and then watched it simmer. To my surprise, this group of leaders aligned more quickly than any group I had yet facilitated.

      But something else was going on. That meeting was one of those times when truth slowly dawns. I saw, and I think that others saw, that the needs, agendas, possibilities, and problems that called (or justified) this meeting were not the real reasons we were together. We were invaded by something larger than us. Because we were, for the most part, married, parents, and people who cared about community, public education was infinitely more than an issue. We could not talk about it and remain at a cerebral place. That plow sank deep into our personal and family experiences.

      And so it was that we settled into conversation that was deeply human; we talked about education as an experience (rather than a policy issue, governmental department, or budget item) and connecting with students as kids. We shared about our favorite teachers, or the other adults – coaches, cops, uncles, wardens, or drill sergeants – who made a difference in our past. Some began to open up about their battle scars from life in the trenches of K–12 education. Others talked about their own kids and their school-based injuries. But through it all, we were all reaching for that thing, that elemental thing in the center of our yearning. What was it? Then I saw that our conversational roads kept looping back to.. the kids.