IF YOU COULD TRY AGAIN

If you had the chance to go back and try again, would you? Sometimes the work wears you down. You reach a point where you have lost the spark, lost the thread, lost sight of the big idea. You start to feel like you are holding back the thing you are supposed to lead. So you make the choice and walk away - not because it's done but because you feel like you don't have enough left to give. 

But it lingers there in the back of your mind. You compare the next assignment to it and the one after that, and they don't really quite compare. You pick up new experiences and wisdom and think about how you would apply them to that thing you left behind. It was the thing that mattered, and it still is. And you know that if you went back you would do it differently. Because you're a different person and the work is in a different context and you'd approach it with a different mindset. The distance helps you see it more clearly. Being away from the details helps you see the potential and the perspective you lost sight of when you were so close to it. You couldn't have done it differently if you had stayed. But maybe now... 

Sometimes we leave so we can go somewhere better. But sometimes we leave so we can come back better.

ALL THE CAREER ADVICE I HAVE TO OFFER

1) Your work talks and it is more eloquent and honest about you and your potential than anything your voice could ever convey. So whatever the assignment, do the best work you can.

2) When someone offers you an opportunity that interests you, no matter how much of a deviation it is from your plans or your path, be wise enough to say "yes."

3) To paraphrase a former colleague: whatever interests your boss should fascinate the hell out of you. Deliver on that and you'll have more space to pursue the things that interest you. 

4) Your boss' interests notwithstanding, the people who work with you and for you are every bit as important as the person for whom you work. On most days they are even more important. Treat them that way. 

5) It is entirely possible to be professional and also have fun. In fact, I think the ability to have fun is an essential part of being truly professional. A job in which you don't laugh at least once a day is not a job you should stay in. 

6) Every professional workplace will talk about things like values and core competencies. The HR people will probably list them on a poster in the lunch room and on letterhead and in the annual report. Whether it is on the list or not, nothing else on that list is more important than respect.

HOW SAUSAGES ARE MADE

There's the plan, in all its well-thought-out, nice tidy glory. With its timelines and page numbers and logic and clarity. Then there's how stuff actually ends up getting done. There's usually a big difference between those two things. You know those people you work with who somehow always stay calm when the plan starts to fall apart? The ones who keep their head when it's all going off the rails? Those are the people who understand that difference between the plan and the path and are comfortable in the gap.

THE PERSPECTIVE TREE

I work in what used to be a convent. Outside my office window is a giant sequoia tree. It is over a century old, which is relatively young for a sequoia. Barring any natural or human-instigated catastrophe, that tree could very well stand where it is for another millennia or two. 

I've come to view that tree as a persistent symbol of perspective. As important as my work may seem to me or anybody else today, odds are it will not last as long as that tree has - let alone as long as it could last. Whatever I'm working on may matter in the here and now, but it probably won't matter much decades from now. A century from now it will probably be forgotten. The tree is more likely to endure.

I suppose that could be discouraging, but for me it's helpful. What matters is entirely relative. What matters right now to a defined group of people may not matter at all to a different group or even to the same group in the future. What matters to me won't matter to everyone. What matters to me now may not matter to me tomorrow. None of that is to say that whatever you're doing isn't worthwhile. It probably is in your context. If it matters to someone, then it does matter. And maybe it will change the world (although I'm not entirely sure why everyone seems to use that as a goal these days - but more on that another time). Maybe a century from now you and your thing will continue to be regarded as something remarkable. But it's also okay if you aren't. And being comfortable with that could actually make your work and life easier. It helps strip away some of the stress and pressure. 

One final note on the tree: it was planted by the parents of a young girl when she first came to study at the convent. They planted it, I assume, in the hope that it would be a symbol of their pride and affection for their daughter. I figure the world is a better place if that is the kind of thing that endures. 

THEY DON'T NEED YOU TO BE SMART

Nobody likes to look like an idiot. That's why the phrase "I don't know" can be remarkably difficult to say. But the one thing that will always be worse than admitting you don't know is pretending you do and then getting it wrong. Because then you look not only like an idiot but also an unreliable liar.

Not that smart is a bad thing, but people don't always need you to be smart. Sure, they need you to be reasonably competent and knowledgeable. But, more than that, they need you to be reliable. They need you to be trustworthy. They need you to be honest. And they need you to care enough to try to find answers to things you don't know. I'd take all those things over smart any day.

WHY ARE WE HERE?

"We create institutions to serve missions, to serve a purpose. But a lot of times, after a while, maintaining the institution becomes the purpose."

- Yong Zhao

That's the risk for any institution that has been around for a while. It was established with some noble purpose that everyone who joined it may believe in deeply. That purpose probably remains front and centre in annual reports and strategic plans and communication materials. But somewhere along the line, decisions start being made that don't necessarily line up. 

It starts small enough and usually with the best of intentions. But before you know it, somehow things start to be done not in the best interests of fulfilling that original purpose but in the best interests of meeting the administrative needs of the institution. You can see how it happens. The institution has become so established and so interconnected with the purpose, it starts to seem indispensable. Longevity and tradition replace meaning and impact as measures of progress. And then the people inside the institution start to confuse existing with doing. Then they lose touch, and then they lose trust, and then lose their ability to actually achieve their purpose because nobody believes in them anymore. And then the thread is lost.

Effective institutions don't ever think they matter more than their purpose. Effective institutions don't ever forget who they serve, and they know it's not themselves. Effective institutions don't assume their original purpose is even still valid. Great institutions are aspirational. They constantly question. They challenge their own beliefs and place, and are even willing to step aside if they can't find a way to matter. That takes a lot of courage. But courage is probably what got them started in the first place. An institution that loses its courage will almost surely lose its way. But you can find your way back.

REQUIEM FOR PATIENCE

When did we start caring less about how far and so much more about how fast? When did now become better than right? When did pace become the first measure of progress? When did we grant urgency so much power over what is possible? When did patience move from virtue to sin?

As a colleague recently observed, I'm often very cynical about where we are and yet incredibly optimistic about where we can go. But I'm also something of a fatalist. Add it all up and I tend to believe that what is right is also possible, and maybe even inevitable. But I've also been around the block enough times to know that sometimes, despite all the passion and logic and clarity in the world, it can take time for right and possible to collide. That space between right and possible is filled with patience.

Everything in nature, all that surrounds us, demands patience. We are the only things that rush against that, striving to push the hands of the clock somehow faster. But the clock won't move faster. Only we will. Often in circles, confusing movement with progress. There is a time for urgency, but it's not all the time. Wherever we're going, we'll get there. But sometimes the answer to "when?" is "not yet."

WHAT WILL THEY SAY?

A while back I had a conversation with a colleague about the one-sentence professional eulogy. When your career is done and dusted and you've moved on to playing canasta in Florida or whatever retirement holds, what do you want people to say about you back at the farm? They get one sentence to sum up your entire professional career. So what would you like it to be?

I figure I'm about half way there, so there' still plenty of time for aspiration. With that in mind, here's mine: He helped people trust government again. Maybe a bit ambitious. But that's the point. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do.

WORKING IN THE SPACE YOU HAVE

If you're lucky, at some point in your career you get the chance to take a big swing at a big thing. You get to make the decisions, you get the budget, you get the backing you need to do something real and important, and you get to do it more or less your way. You get to shake things up and do something you care deeply about. The big swing comes with its own risks, of course, but it's exciting and rewarding for as long as it lasts. And, if you're successful, you get to wear that badge for a long time afterward.

But for most of us this isn't the norm for most of our careers. That reality can be frustrating. But it doesn't mean you never get to do anything cool. What it means is that if you care enough you have to find the cracks where you can work at a smaller scale, chipping away at the problem patiently but relentlessly, sometimes anonymously. It's harder because you don't always have control no matter how much you want to have an impact. But it also comes with its own reward because it forces you to be creative and flexible - not to mention determined and focused enough to push through the frustration.

I've been in both situations and, if I had to choose, on most days I'd actually choose the cracks. In part because the big swing isn't always what we imagine it will be. In fact, too often we overlook the power of small things (Rory Sutherland is brilliant on this).But it's also because you usually end up working only with people who care as much as you do. Clock punchers and ladder climbers and paper shufflers don't fit in the cracks, and they don't really ever think to look for them. But others who care will seek those narrow spaces out, and in the process they'll find you. And you'll commiserate together at times. But, if your patience and commitment and ego can endure it, together you will eventually make a dent. 

YOU MAY BE RIGHT

I guess you could be right. Maybe it doesn't matter if people understand. Maybe it doesn't matter if they trust us - especially if we're their only option. Maybe all people care about is what we're doing and so we don't need to spend time explaining why. Maybe we don't even need to really know why. Maybe gant charts and a plan are all that matter. Maybe a coherent narrative revealed through compelling stories is just a touchy feely luxury that isn't worth our time or money or intellectual capital. Maybe a timeline is more important than a map and compass. Maybe the risk and reward of exploration are "not in our mandate." Maybe all it takes to overcome the inertia of past experience is the brute force of our authority. Maybe stability is the priority. Maybe the battles we can't win still need to be fought. Maybe this isn't the time. But what if you're wrong?

"You may be right, I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for."

- Billy Joel

WE WERE GIANTS ONCE

"The world has become indifferent to tradition and past reputations, unforgiving to frailty and ignorant to custom or practice. Success will go to those individuals and nations that are swift to adapt, slow to complain, and open to change."

- Andreas Schleicher, OECD Advisor on Education

Whether or not it is a good thing, I think Schleicher is right about where we are. Resting on laurels is even less of an option than ever. "We were leaders once" no longer gets us a free pass to anything, including respect. That something worked for 50 years is no longer a reason to think it still works (and never was). I particularly like his point about success going to those "slow to complain" because lamenting our lost supremacy, lost trust, or declining results gets us nowhere. Neither does blaming somebody else for our shortcomings.

Know and learn from history, but don't live in it. Understand problems and solve them, but don't waste energy and time complaining about them. Build on past success, but don't rely on it.

For better or worse the job at hand for all of us - as well as for our institutions and systems - is this: catch up, keep up and, if we don't have anything to say but excuses, shut up. 

RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF TRUST

For decades now, public trust in our public institutions has been fading. It is not okay. It can't be allowed to be okay. We can't be okay with reports that tell us that on any given day fewer than half of citizens trust their government, despite the fact that we live in one of the most remarkably stable, free, democratic and successful places on the planet. 

And when I say "we" I mean all of us as citizens but also all of us who work inside those public institutions. It is easy for us to say people don't trust "government" because they don't trust politicians. And to some extent that's true (although any of us who have worked with elected officials know just how unfair the negative opinion of them really is). But yet another survey on trust in politicians released this week also includes the news that only 36 percent of Canadians trust public servants.

So this isn't just about politics, it's not just about a media culture (social and mainstream) that likes to focus on scandals and conspiracy theories, and it isn't just about changing social attitudes - although surely these and many other factors are all pieces of the problem. There is no single reason for the loss of public trust, and there is no single answer. But there must be a solution and we, to whom these institutions are entrusted, must find it. We must own our share of both the problem and the fix, however complex and uncomfortable it may be. And it will be uncomfortable, and it will take time and focus and resources and probably profound changes to how we do what we do.

The lack of trust doesn't entirely make sense. It's ludicrous that people tend to trust big technology companies and NGOs more than the one institution that actually exists for the sole purpose of representing and protecting the public interest. But trust isn't about logic or rational thought, it's about how people feel. And that people increasingly feel they can't trust us is a serious public policy issue for the public service. It may well be the most serious issue we face. We should treat it that way.

We can no longer pretend it doesn't exist or that it doesn't matter. The time has long passed when we could assume public trust in our work. Indeed, we are now perilously close to a time when we can assume distrust. This is not just "the way it is" - it is actually a serious barrier to our ability to do our jobs successfully. 

The decline in public trust is not entirely ours to solve, nor is it entirely our fault. But it also isn't the public's fault. When someone doesn't trust you, there's something wrong and it isn't good enough to assume it's something wrong with them. As a public servant I swore an oath that, among other things, committed me to enhancing public trust. It's time for all of us to live up to that.

FROM THE NOTEBOOK: STONES

THE PERPETUAL HORIZON

As a kid, I went to Discovery Elementary School. It was named after one of Captain Cook's ships during his exploration of the Pacific Northwest. It's a great name for the ship of an iconic explorer, and an even better name for a school. While discovery (regrettably) isn't always at the heart of education, it is at the heart of learning. It's the heart of what it means to be human. 

The endless hunt for what comes next, for something better, for something different, for understanding. It's what has fueled us all along. Science, exploration, design, love, art, religion, history, innovation - discovery is embedded in all those things. In their own way, they are our answer to "what if?" And our discovery of everything around us inevitably leads us to discover ourselves and our potential. 

Trying to stifle discovery has always been wrong and has always failed - because it has always been futile. We are all explorers.

ALL WE WANT

A wise colleague and educator once told me, "What most parents really want from their kid's teacher is to know the teacher really knows their child, really understands them, really sees them the way the parent knows them."

It's true, and not just with kids and teachers. All any of us really want in any relationship is to have some comfort that the other party understands and cares about the things we care about. If we get that, then things like trust fall into place. But make us feel like you've put your own priorities, process and politics ahead of what we really care about, and things like trust fall apart. Your choice.

THE MESSY BIT

There's idealism and there's realism. And then there's the space where they collide. 

ABOUT THAT IDEA...

You know that idea you had? The one about doing something different? The one you shared with a couple people and they said something like, "Ya, that is brilliant and it would be awesome, but They will never let you do it" - you know that idea? The one you tried to just accept was destined for dust, but it still rolls around in your head because you still think it would be worthwhile and might make a dent? The one where you couldn't find a measurement to justify it because there is no baseline for new and different and curiosity and creativity? The one you are kind of afraid of because if it flopped you'd look like a doofus to all the "told you so" people, and yet you're slightly more afraid of letting it go because it could really make something better?

That's right - that idea. Sometimes finding a way is the hardest part, but what if you found a way to just try it?

UNCOMFORTABLE TRUTHS

1) However entitled we may be to them, opinions are not statements of fact - no matter how many facts we use to try to bolster them.

2) That we don't like what we hear doesn't make it a lie or propaganda or untrue - no matter how uncomfortable it makes us.

3) That we do like what we hear doesn't make it true or right - no matter how much we believe or want to believe it.

VERSUS

There is no us and them. There is only us. In all our beautiful, passionate, complicated, flawed diversity, we are all we have. And there is no corner of this world that, if we so choose, cannot be common ground.

ALL THAT MATTERS

In the end, all the things we think matter probably won't. However true and just and noble they may have been, all the reasons and justifications and arguments and grand ideas we used as steps up to the top of our high horses will fall away. In the end, all that will matter is whether or not we can still respect ourselves and whether or not we respected others. And one is not possible without the other.