Archive for Professional Development

Turning The Clock Faster

I was an invited guest on a careers panel two weeks ago as part of our Graduate Student Council’s annual conference. While the audience was different (graduate students instead of the undergraduate students I more often work with) the questions were the same.

“All of the jobs I apply for require more years of experience than I have, but I can’t get the job without having that much experience. How am I supposed to get the experience they want if they won’t give me the chance to accumulate the amount of experience they’re looking for?”

The eternal debate. The ongoing question. The vicious cycle.

I’ve heard (and given) many of the typical answers to this question.

Volunteer. Ask for more responsibility in your current role. Network and seek out other opportunities. Rework your resume to best showcase your skills and education.

One of the panelists on last week’s panel, however, had a far more interesting response.

Turn the clock faster. 

To badly paraphrase, the panelist (an entrepreneur and high ranking executive on an international engineering professional society), spoke of fitting more experiences and, consequently, more development, into a shorter amount of time. As experience and the learning it offers comes in time, he argued, graduating students need to start ‘turning the clock faster’ to rush their development.

On the surface, every single molecule of my Student Affairs training screamed out in protest. Development can’t be rushed! Everyone walks their own path! Learning is not a sprint! How could anyone possibly advocate for rushing the student experience?

Except maybe we’re already doing that.

We spend a lot of time in Student Affairs talking about development and growth.  Both terms have process or progress in their definitions, implying a gradual journey between externally defined stages. We insert ourselves, and rightly so, into the whole student experience, following a path from orientation to graduation (and often beyond), hoping to impact each step along the way.

Being fortunate enough to watch students progress through a multi-year journey, we talk of students’ ‘readiness’ for experiences. Not yet, not now, but soon. Slow and steady wins the race.

In our own professional development, we talk openly about making mistakes and about failure. We praise trying something, anything, over inaction. Standing still makes us antsy and we advocate for progress, not perfection.

I used to continually berate myself for not enjoying the moment, for not slowing down and reflecting on both where I am and where I’m going. Now, I get stuck in a strange developmental limbo – longing for progress but yearning for patience. Do we do this to our students too?

I have no answer (yet) for how to solve this dilemma, but the idea of ‘turning the clock faster’ suddenly doesn’t seen so bad if, as we sometimes discover, the hands aren’t moving at all.

Life Short Long

Life’s too short to worry. Life’s too long to wait.

 

One Is Not Enough

Coming back to earth (literally and figuratively) from a whirlwind couple of weeks that included launching our first Student Leadership Summit and another fantastic conference experience at NASPA Orlando, I’ve been reflecting on the number of times I’ve said two small words that are simply better together.

Thank You

Rather than muse about gratitude and the importance of sharing it freely and often (not that you shouldn’t, because you really, really should), my default thought process revolves around thinking of all the times someone helped me do something, gave me an idea to make something better or took on work that I couldn’t do … and feeling guilty about it.

I hate not feeling good enough. I despise not feeling smart enough. I spend too much time not feeling … enough

Each time someone offered a suggestion, I beat myself up for not thinking of it first. “Why didn’t I think of that? That’s so simple. They’re a much better professional than I am.”

Asking presentation partners or colleagues to take on large(r) parts of a task felt belittling, not liberating. “Why can’t I just do that? If I managed my time better I could have gotten it done. Why am I burdening them with extra work? I bet they think less of me now because I can’t get things done.”

If I had a friend who talked to me like I talked to myself these past couple of weeks, they would not be sharing my ice cream. (Trust me, sharing ice cream with me is an honour. I like ice cream. A lot). So what gives? How do I reframe? How will I give myself permission to be enough?

The only thing running through my head as I mulled over the question this morning was this:

I may not feel smart when I forget something that someone else remembers, or overlook a detail that someone else points out, but, I am smarter, and stronger, for not going it alone. I would rather be vulnerable and achieve more together than brave but limited alone. 

What about you? How do you feel ‘enough’? Leave me a comment or tweet me to talk about this more.

#BUConfab Reflection 2.0 – Dangerous Idea(l)s

I blinked and a year passed. While last year I got to high five and hug some great friends out in Boston, this year I had to content myself with keeping an eye on the #BUConfab stream from the office.

A Confab: Dangerous Ideas in Higher Education launched last year under the passion and foresight of Kenn Elmore, Dean of Students at Boston University as a space to connect, share and dig deep into important challenges and bold new ideas impacting the work we do in student affairs. When I attended last year, and in watching the tweets this time around, I was blown away and, more than once, stumped by some of the hard (but certainly timely and necessary) questions being asked.

As I read, watched and reflected, instead of being inspired  I found myself more than a little bit terrified.

These are such amazing ideas … that someone else smarter than me is coming up with. 

What a good question … I wish I had thought of that.

That’s a good point. We should do that … But I’ll never be able to do anything. I’m not smart enough, I don’t have enough hours in the day, *insert favourite excuse here.

It’s happening again … and it’s even more dangerous now than last year. 

Back in April of 2012, I wrote this post about the challenge of creating problems, questions and ideas for change that are bigger than us.

We’re still so caught up in looking for solutions, but we haven’t yet wrangled the problem. 

We are, by nature, a society focused on celebrating the ‘done’. We want results and we want them now. We talk about how ‘fast paced’ the changes we see in our higher education system now seem, and bemoan the perceived lack of progress in ‘meeting students where they’re at.

Problem is, our ideas are still ideals. They’re still on pedestals we’ve constructed from our own insecurities, cynicism, fears, doubts and leftovers of the bystander effect. Someone else will do it, and someone else will probably do it better.

When I gave my TEDxUTSC talk two weeks ago, I wanted to challenge the idea of putting people, processes and products on a pedestal, out of reach and beyond any chance of real action or change. However, I still struggle with being on a stage, in a public forum seen by many people, advocating for toppling the very pedestal I’ve been given to stand on.

Much like the presentations and discussions at the confab, in our rush to share ideas and have important conversations, have we created a dangerous cycle of climbing pedestals and keeping ideas out of reach?

I have no answers yet, just many (and I mean many) questions. I’d love to process this with you. Leave me a comment or tweet me – let’s talk.

 

Snowflakes, Paths & Pedestals

Allow me to be Captain Obvious for a minute …

It’s snowing. A lot.

Whether gazing out the window or ankle deep in shovelling, I continue to marvel at the collective impact of each little snowflake.

Squinting into the blizzard, I see tiny, individual drops of snow. Minuscule flakes that seem unthreatening and almost serene on their own. These flakes can be easily dismissed without a second thought.

On the ground, these tiny flakes quickly bind together into heaps, mounds and hills, at times as beautiful as they are frustratingly impassable.

A little snow, like a single comment or solitary question, can be noticed but easily dismissed. Over time, however, individual actions, ideas, and thoughts, like falling snowflakes, can collect into hills, like pedestals, that appear impossible to climb. Much like pedestals, however, while imposing in height, their construction is sloppy and their foundation is shaky.

Remember that in each little moment, in those moments you may dismiss or that may melt away before you can truly appreciate them, a pedestal might be building. Will you be the one to get your shovel out to create a path, or are you waiting for a winter wind to knock you off your perch?

 

Is loudness leadership?

Is my extrovert showing? Or is your introvert hiding?

In response to a comment on a recent episode of Student Affairs Live (thank you to Ed Cabellon and Tony Doody for sparking some great conversation), I tweeted the following:

Tweet

After seeing this tweet get re-tweeted 12 times, I thought I might be onto something. (Take some time to watch the video I tweeted as well – the entire series is quite eye-opening).

What struck me, among may other things, about the video and the comment that sparked it was the strange link between loudness and leadership.

We seek out proof of competence and evidence of expertise. We expect it to be easy to see and hard to miss.

We mistake silence for weakness while overly praising conversation and action. We are expected to be shameless self promoters, and crave attention for our accomplishments, yet in others we find judgement both when we speak up (‘bossy’, ‘overbearing’) and when we don’t (‘aloof’, ‘cold).

My work in assessment has made it clear that it is difficult, and often impossible, to assess what we can’t see. Just as I can’t accurately judge the level of engagement between members of an online community if I’m only looking at Facebook posts and tweets, how can I possibly see whether someone is a good leader if I don’t see them lead and hear them talk about their leadership?

I have to look deeper. 

It is not enough anymore to expect others to tell us they are a leader, or for them to show it off. We can no longer sit back and wait for proof of development, growth or competence – we have to search it out. Our own assumptions around what a leader does and says effectively blind us to the quieter, more subtle ways students, colleagues and even ourselves can impact our world in ways we have only begun to imagine. 

Work for a cause

What does leadership look like for you? Comment with your thoughts or tweet me to keep the conversation going. 

 

 

Learners, Learners Everywhere, But No One Left To Teach?

I’ve spent a lot of time in my professional life working with peer programs. From mentorship to communities of practice to unconferences, the notion of peer learning has fast become an attractive and dynamic way to share knowledge and ideas in our professional community. Assessment data and anecdotal evidence shows strong support from my colleagues for this model of learning. People are attracted to learning from peers, to hearing new stories and to having someone else’s hindsight become their foresight.

If everyone is attracted to peer-to-peer dialogue for the learning, who will be the one to teach?

Bringing peers together, by the very definition, often means bringing people together with the same (or very similar) sets of knowledge, skills and/or professional challenges. Everyone coming into the conversation is looking for the same thing and often enter with the same questions.

While there may be a shared empathy and experience, how can we expect peers to feel confident in their ability to teach?

The desire to learn is almost innate for student affairs professionals – we seem to naturally and voraciously seek out new opportunities for personal and professional development, and speak of being a life-long learner in the same way someone else might identify as having a particular hair colour or favourite band.

To learn, then, seems natural. Safe. Comfortable even.

Who will heed to the burden of responsibility that the collection of knowledge has placed on us to share and spread ideas such that they can evolve and be impactful?

Who will step up and be the teacher?

 

Structuring the Unstructured – My First #satechBOS Reflection

I had the pleasure last week of attending the #satech Boston unconference in Boston, MA. Shifting from a more traditional conference format, #satechBOS challenged participants to not just learn, but to teach and to not only discuss but to create. The participant-driven focus of the conference demanded many of us being comfortable with what can make us uncomfortable – a lack of structure and the almost total absence of a plan.

With an emphasis on stepping outside of one’s comfort zone and taking risks, an unstructured unconference can be a confronting experience. Extending the notion to our work in student affairs, and my own philosophy on leadership (taking people from where they are to where they have not been), the unconference model has become another example of creating spaces and places for pushing boundaries for the purposes of learning and development, both in our work and in ourselves.

Despite, or perhaps because of, our desire to stretch outside of our comfort zones, there remains at the very least an anecdotal resistance to the lack of structure originally declared as one of the key reasons many of my colleagues attend these types of conferences. While structure is seen as limiting or confining, the opposite is also met with frustration or fear. 

Many times in my student affairs career, I have spoken of ‘creating a safe space’. Whether as part of a workshop or simply in conversation with a student, these safe spaces are often meant to be an anchor or secure foundation from which students (and colleagues) can (safely) branch out beyond their own personal and professional comfort zones.

Is there an inherent contradiction in creating a safe space to take risks? What do we gain by exploring the new or novel by seeking the familiar within it?

As I continue to explore the unconference model, I often wonder about the need for structuring the unstructured. What level of uncertainty are we comfortable with? What amount of structure can we take away before the process interferes with our progress?

What attracts us to an unconference? Is it the idea or ideal of a lack of structure? Does it look or feel different when we are actually put to task to share, to learn and to create without a formula or plan? When we look for structure in the unstructure, are we helping or hindering our desire to innovate?

What Next? Why Not?

I’ve been following some of the recent conversations around innovation in higher education with much interest over the past days and weeks. I am continually inspired by the brilliant ideas and unyielding passion those I follow & engage with on Twitter have in these discussions. There seems to be considerable desire for change.

Here’s the problem: How do we move from ‘wouldn’t it be cool if …’ to ‘look at this cool thing we did …’?

Here’s my challenge (and perhaps my fear): I don’t know if we can … yet. 

While the dialogue is rich, engaging and full of good ideas, it is only, in reality, a small piece of the puzzle. Why can’t we get beyond the conversation?

The conversation, the dialogue, the ongoing discussion are creating a problem, and potential solutions, that is bigger than us. There now exists this almost unattainable notion of the problem and what could ‘solve it’. The idea that we need to ‘fix higher education’ is, for many, a large, daunting task. When faced with such a seemingly impossible task, where do we even begin?

 

We begin not by pursuing the solution, but by wrangling the problem. 

I’m not going to make any attempts here to conceptualize what the ‘problem’ is with higher education today (if you follow me on Twitter you should have some idea of what I think already). What I’m getting at here is that until we can conceptualize a problem that is well defined and tangible, it becomes nearly impossible to create a ‘solution’. Much like I often do in my assessment work, we need to drill down this overarching goal into a measurable, manageable and meaningful challenge.

Why do we need to do this? We already know something’s wrong – let’s fix it. 

We’ve known there’s something wrong for a long time. We’ve written about it, talked about it, hosted conferences about it and everything in between.

The more we talk, I fear, the worse it gets. 

Talking about it, around it, in spite of it, through it, creates a larger and more amorphous, more intangible ‘thing’ that we need to work on.

Creating a problem bigger than ourselves is the problem. 

Once the problem gets too big, the fear not only of change, but of any action is increased. This massive problem, we figure, requires a huge amount of work by people with intelligence, resources, time, etc. that we just don’t have (and, sadly, we think we never will).

We’re talking ourselves right out of any motivation to make change because we’re setting an impossible ideal. 

So, what exactly is the problem? How do we talk about this challenge in a way that makes it something that we can overcome? I’ve got some ideas, but I want to hear from you.

Comment below or Tweet me. I’d say let’s keep the conversation going, but I’m not sure that’s what we need (this time).

 

The Only Constant Is Change

A few days ago, I tweeted this mini Lisa Life Update:

I'm pretty sure I just did my last student appointment in career services. A year & a half ago I would never have fathomed doing any. #whoa
@lmendersby
Lisa Endersby

In part because there’s no way I can explain what’s been going on for me professionally in 140 characters (those that know me know I’m rather … verbose) and because it’s about time I got back to blogging, I wanted to share what’s been going on in the (professional) life of Lisa.

Most of you know that when I started my role at the University of Ontario Institute of Technology (UOIT) back in September 2011, I was put into a role and assigned responsibilities that I was initially hesitant to take on. My academic background and professional experience are rooted in leadership development and transition (e.g. Orientation), and it was with a deep breath and a frantic (but fruitless) search for water wings that I jumped into the career services deep end. For the past year and a half I have been working with a phenomenal group of students supporting them as they navigate the stormy seas (anyone else noticing a nautical theme yet?) of the job search and their own career/professional development. I learnt on the fly how to deliver 1:1 resume and cover letter appointments (I’ve now logged almost 200), gave my very first career services presentation to the Faculty of Education (I’ve now done the full cycle of these presentations  twice to two different cohorts) and worked within the career services team to build programs and initiatives to help students define their own success and then go after it.

While an immensely challenging and ultimately rewarding experience, I will be the first to admit that I was terrified. My first hint coming into this role should have been the somewhat vague job description (the Student Experience Advisor will create programs to support student development, with people, doing stuff – I exaggerate but this is a pretty good paraphrasing) but spending the first year and a half in a new job in a role I wasn’t trained in and didn’t even know I were going to do has opened doors and given me new knowledge and perspectives I now see as invaluable. These lessons are coming with me as I start a new role working on developing student leadership programming, supporting the student transition through orientation and mentorship and, of course, leading the charge for more effective and more awesome assessment planning in our department.

So what have I learnt you ask? (You did ask right?) See below for my top three lessons from jumping into the deep end and learning how to swim (do all my ‘channelling my inner Nemo’ tweets make sense now?):

  1. It’s okay to be afraid of change, but it’s not okay to avoid it. Whether you like it or not, change will find you. In the past year and a half hardly anything has stayed the same, but I’ve also experienced more growth and development condensed into these 18 or so months than I have in the past few years. Fighting against the current will just exhaust you – you’ll need to learn a new stroke, maybe float for a while and get your bearings, or even ask for a lifeguard to come in and help. Whatever you do, do not stop swimming. You’ll be amazed at who’s willing to help keep you afloat and what’s waiting for you once you reach the shore.
  2. Stand up for yourself. You are more powerful than you realize. At times during this transition phase I’ve felt more like a position than a person. Feeling lost as an individual in the midst of emails, documentation and office move logistics can scatter your thoughts and throw you off balance. This experience is teaching me (I’m not quite there yet) to be a stronger (and louder) self advocate. Take care of yourself during any change, big or small. I’m rooting for you.
  3. Where you think you fit isn’t always where you’ll end up. Fit will fluctuate. I came into this role about 3-4 months before another colleague of mine, our Student Development Coordinator, was hired. Seeing his job description, I rued the day I had applied for my current role without waiting, now seeing that his role (primarily around orientation and transition) seemed like a much better fit for my skills and experience. Here’s what I know now: what you’re trained to do isn’t what you end up doing … ever. This isn’t meant as a (somewhat) witty commentary on my current professional life, but rather as a reality in our field. ‘Other duties as assigned’ is not an afterthought at the end of a job description – it’s a promise that you will be pushed and stretched outside of your comfort zone to a place where you will learn and grow more than you ever thought possible. If we expect our students to challenge themselves while at our institutions, shouldn’t we expect ourselves to do the same?

So there you have it. I’m coming back from NASPA 2012 to more changes, more opportunities, and a lot more swimming. In the words of one David Bowie:

Want to join the conversation? Tweet me!

Has It Been A Year Already?

I titled this post after a question myself, my colleagues and my friends have been asking over and over again as it finally sinks in that September is upon us. With so many anniversaries and occasions for me to celebrate this month, including my one year anniversary at work and a celebration of another successful trip around the sun (my birthday), I thought it was time to do a little reflecting on some lessons learnt over the past 365 days. In true Lisa fashion, I’ve done a little word association to help me explain just how ‘awesome’ this past year has been:

A is for Accidentally on Purpose. As much as I could attribute my successes (and failures) and opportunities (and obstacles) to luck or chance, I’ve often used this phrase to describe where opportunity and hard work have met. As Thomas Jefferson said “I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it”.

W is for Waiting and Watching. I’ve been fighting my ‘E’ a lot this year. I’ve begun to see and appreciate the value in slowing down, being present, pausing and reflecting on where this amazing journey has taken me so far. While I continue to plan for the future, I am continually reminded that being present is one of the best gifts you can give others, and yourself.

E is for Engagement. Being present and in the moment to me means living life LOUD! Learning to revel in the present and dive in with both feet has brought me amazing experiences (another possible ‘e’ word candidate) and shown me that I’m capable of more than I ever thought possible.

S is for Surprise  Good or bad, the surprises I’ve gotten this year have changed me for the better.  I’ve had to let go a bit to truly love a good surprise (it very much goes against my need to plan) but it has never been more apparent to me that “life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans”.

O is for Open.  Doors have opened for me, either when I turned the knob or someone else helped me unlock them. To walk through these doors, I also learnt to be open to new experiences and dancing as far along the edge of my comfort zone as I could.

M is for Mentor. I am continually in awe of all of YOU! Your passion, dedication, smarts and outright silliness are a source of inspiration I am truly grateful for. I have found support and love in the most unlikely of places and I’m a better person for it.

E is for Embrace. Hugs are my favourite adhesive. (It’s true, I even have the t-shirt). Getting to hug new and old friends alike this year has been, yes, awesome.

How about you? What’s made this past year AWESOME?

Want to continue the conversation? Tweet me!