Do Our Schools Need to Become Less Uptight?

WARNING: this article is provocative.  I am posting this article not because I agree with everything asserted (I don’t) but because it provokes thought and has relevance for how we are leading our schools during a time when the landscape of education is changing-perhaps dramatically.  At the end of this article I pose some questions for your consideration.

WSJ: September 29, 2009

By Gary Hamel

In most  organizations, change comes in only two flavors:  trivial and traumatic.  Review the history of the average organization and you’ll discover long periods of incremental fiddling  punctuated by occasional bouts of frantic, crisis-driven change.  The dynamic is not unlike that of  arteriosclerosis:  after years of  relative inactivity, the slow accretion of arterial plaque is suddenly  revealed by the business equivalent of a myocardial infarction. The only  option at that juncture is a quadruple bypass:  excise the leadership team, slash head  count, dump “non-core” assets and overhaul the balance sheet.

Why does  change have to happen this way?   Why does a company have to frustrate its shareholders, infuriate its  customers and squander much of its legacy before it can reinvent itself?   It’s easy to blame leaders  who’ve fallen prey to denial and nostalgia, but the problem goes deeper than  that.  Organizations by their very  nature are inertial.  Like a  fast-spinning gyroscope that can’t be easily unbalanced, successful  organizations spin around the axis of unshakeable beliefs and well-rehearsed  routines—and it typically takes a dramatic outside force to destabilize the  self-reinforcing system of policies and practices.

Let me  return, for a moment, to the topic of my last post, organized religion.   What are some of the inertial forces that have prevented churches from  reinventing themselves in ways that might make them more relevant to a  post-modern world?  A partial list  would include:

–Long-serving denominational leaders  who have little experience with non-traditional models of worship and  outreach.

–A matrix of top-down policies that  limits the scope for local experimentation.

–Training programs (seminaries) that  perpetuate a traditional view of religious observance and ministerial  roles.

–Promotion criteria for church pastors  that reward conformance to traditional practices.

–And a straightjacket of implicit  beliefs around how you “do church.”   For example:

  • Church  happens in church.
  • Preaching is the most effective way of imparting religious  wisdom.
  • Pastors lead in church while parishioners remain (mostly)  passive.
  • The  church service follows a strict template:  greet, sing, read, pray, preach,  bless, dismiss (repeat weekly).
  • Believers, rather than curious skeptics, are the church’s primary  constituency.
  • Going  to church is the primary manifestation of a spiritual life.
  • Church  is a lecture not a discussion.

If organized  religion has become less relevant, it’s not because churches have held fast to  their creedal beliefs—it’s because they’ve held fast to their conventional  structures, programs, roles and routines.  The problem with organized religion  isn’t religion, but organization.    In the first and second centuries, the Christian church was communal,  organic and unstructured—a lot like the Web is today.  It commanded little power (it couldn’t  raise an army or depose a monarch), but had enormous influence.  (The Christian church grew from a handful of believers in AD 40 to 31 million adherents by AD 350, roughly half the population of the Roman empire. ) Today many mainline denominations  are institutionally powerful, but spiritually moribund—at least in the  U.S.

What’s true  for churches is true for other institutions:  the older and more organized they get,  the less adaptable they become.   That’s why the most resilient things in our world—biological life,  stock markets, the Internet—are loosely organized. 

To thrive in  turbulent times, organizations must become a bit more disorganized—less buttoned down, less  uptight, less compulsive, less anal.

As a start,  you’ll need to become more alert to the things that reflexively favor the  status quo in your own organization.   While no one’s going to stand up  and say, “I’m on the side of inertia,” they may nevertheless defend management  processes that reflexively favor the status quo.

All of the  things that allow little organizations to grow into big ones—scale, learning  effects, and accumulated expertise—are products of repetition.  When the environment changes, however,  the returns to repetition start to diminish.  Problem is, old habits die hard,  particularly when they’ve been hardwired into a company’s management  processes. 

–Hiring criteria that over-value  “expertise” and under-value diverse life experiences.

–A planning process that  institutionalizes orthodox thinking by using industry standard definitions of  customer segments and product categories

–Decision-making bodies that are  comprised mostly of long-serving industry veterans who tend to discount new  views.

–Highly conservative budgeting criteria  that starve unconventional projects of resources by demanding near certain  returns, even when the funds involved are modest.

–A single approval track for new  projects, where every new idea has to go up the chain of command.

–Large, monolithic organizational units built around a single, dominant, business model.

–A highly optimized but inflexible IT  infrastructure.

Large  organizations don’t worship shareholders or customers, they worship the  past.  If it were otherwise, it  wouldn’t take a crisis to set a company on a new path.

The most  extreme version of organizational inertia comes when those within a company  are no longer able to distinguish between form and function—when their  instinctual loyalty is to the “how” rather than the “what.”

If one  didn’t know better, it would be easy to believe that a lot of newspaper  publishers have been more committed to producing broadsheets than to  delivering the news in a convenient form, or making it easy for advertisers to  connect with customers.

Until  recently, music companies seem to have been more committed to stamping out  plastic discs than to giving their customers easy access to their favorite  tunes.

Many drug  companies seem a lot more interested in peddling temporary palliatives for  chronic conditions than in eradicating disease.

For years,  Kodak seemed more focused on making film than on leveraging new digital  technologies that would make photography simpler and cheaper.

Alzheimer’s,  arteriosclerosis and arthritis—these seem to be the inevitable byproducts of  old age.  But must organizational  maturity bring a similar set of maladies?  I don’t think so.  Despite all the evidence to the  contrary, I think a company can truly be “Forever 21.”

Questions:

  • Is your school too “button down”, to wedded to tradition?
  • Does the administration, faculty, board members, or parents confuse form with function, preference with principle, or truth with tradition?
  • Has inertia set in at your school?  If so, how can you overcome it?
  • How would you apply the arguments / principles in the above article to addressing 21st century skills, distance learning, technology integration, recent discoveries in cognitive science, and other innovative developments in education to your school?

The God of Technology, or The god of Technology

Jim Drexler of Covenant College alerted me to this article on CARDUS.  After reading it I immediately wrote Mr. Evans and asked his permission to post it on my blog, which is graciously granted. 

I believe you will find this article very helpful and informative.  It strikes a very positive and helpful balance for developing a Christian perspective on technology that is neither afraid nor idolatrous.  I also found this article of particular interest because Mr. Evans knows what he is talking about.  Here is an excerpt from his bio.:

Dave Evans is 30-plus year veteran executive of Silicon Valley who offers a range of professional services to rapidly growing companies and personal mentoring to individuals. Since 1990, Dave has been assisting high-tech clients in strategic planning, sales and marketing, new business development, mergers and alliances, growth management, and executive development. Dave's client list has focused on early stage start-ups but also includes Fortune companies including such leaders as Veritas/Symantec, HP, Intel, and AT&T. (He's also negotiated fishing rights for the Inuit in Alaska—but that's a whole 'nuther story).  Prior to consulting, Dave was VP and Co-Founder of software publisher Electronic Arts, led the introduction of the mouse and laser printing at Apple, and has held senior marketing positions with IBM/ROLM Corporation and voicemail inventor and manufacturer VMX (now Avaya).

Since his college days, Dave has had an abiding, faith-nourished commitment to living and helping others live a coherent life—thoroughly integrating soul and role, especially in the realm of vocation …

I also highly recommend that you read the excellent material found on the CARDUS website. 

The God of technology, or the god of Technology?

Posted with permission from Dave Evans.

July 31, 2009 - Dave Evans

After 34 years of high tech work in Silicon Valley, I have found myself drawn into more than a few discussions with people of faith about technology. How we think about technology matters, and I'd like to make some suggestions for these kinds of conversations.

First, let's define what we mean by technology. Dictionary.com (an online definition seems appropriate) defines it as "the branch of knowledge that deals with the creation and use of technical means and their interrelation with life, society and the environment, drawing upon such subjects as industrial arts, engineering, applied science, and pure science." In short, technology is about tools.

All tools—from the first stick Adam used to soften the dirt to the latest wireless LAN software I had to reinstall to transmit this article to the editors of Comment—share the same character: they enable humankind to enhance the execution of human ability. Tools allow people to do the kinds of things they can already do, but do them bigger, faster, cheaper or better than they can without the tool.

Technology is just a tool, so our thinking about it needs to be grounded in a thoughtful perspective on tools—dare I say, a thoughtful theology of tools and technology. The definition of technology which I cited contains three key elements: creation, use and interrelationship. With these defining elements in mind, let's look at two ideas related to technology that I think warrant more thoughtful attention: newness and availability.

Newness

Technology, especially within modern society's understanding of technology, is focused on the new thing brought about by the latest science. Michael Lewis captured this perspective well in his book about New New Thing book jacketlegendary Silicon Graphics founder Jim Clark, titled The New New Thing. Why are we so inexorably excited about and drawn to the new thing? I'll argue because God made us that way, and it's a good thing. We are made in God's image; we bear the imago Dei.

One of the first things we learn about God is that he is creative, and in a dynamic way. God does not merely make stuff that lies there. God makes stuff that grows and lives and moves in time, space, history and the unfolding story of God and creation.

big-bang.jpgAn astonishing hint to the nature of things is embedded in the fact that creation wasn't finished all at once in a Big Bang. Why didn't God bring the present world into being with just one quick flick of the divine wrist? He didn't zap the cosmos into completion, but labored at it a while, revealing new wonders day by day. At each step along the way, God reflected on the latest thing and concluded it was good. God created the way he did out of love. The dynamic God conceived and made a dynamic universe, and in so doing, wired the continual refreshment of newness into the very heart of all reality.

I'm not saying all new is good, but good new is very good indeed. We are invited—commanded actually—to co-create with God in order to bring respectful and loving order to this world. We are to engage ourselves in the human endeavor of stewardship to care for all creation in order that all persons, and everything else too, may more and more live into what God has in mind for the world.

It's an amazing adventure, and technology enables us to do that work. As anthropologists well know, tool making tools.jpgis an essential aspect of what makes us distinctly human, and as Christians we understand that it's an essential aspect of what makes us God's image-bearing children. It's a triple win—we get to participate in the innovating of technology (creation) and the application of that technology (use) to do good in the world (interrelationship).

I believe the movement of newness God set in motion in creation and in each of us fuels our healthy attraction to the new that we so experience in our encounter with technology. We in fact worship the (capital G) God of (small t) technology.

Availability

Most of us want the latest available technology. Usually, available technology is the newest thing that works fairly reliably and is economically accessible. When will the next iPhone or cold fusion or a 100mpg car be available?

Those are good questions, but they fall short. The key is not just the technology's availability, but how available it makes us. The purpose of technology is to buy us more time to be available to other things, or to makes us more effective in some endeavour (and so allow us a greater avail upon the world). Good technology is all about availability.

I may here sound as if I'm merely surfacing the age-old technological tension between good technology and good use of technology. While that's a relevant issue, it's not what I'm getting at here. I'm advocating for something less obvious and more profound: an availability consciousness that can transform our relationship with technology, both collectively and individually.

The Christian life is a particular way of life grounded in a continual awareness of God's constant presence and active invitation. Jesus said that he could do only what the Father showed him (John 5:19). Jesus lived in constant availability to the Father, and so should we. That means that all our endeavours and all the tools and processes and techniques and collaborations and organizations that we use to live out our lives are to be engaged, while still retaining a sense of availability to what else is going on and what else God may be showing us. We need to learn a way of being that is contextualized in a larger frame than the current situation, seeing a picture that's bigger than what meets the eye. By always being a little outside our situation, we are actually made more available to be present to the situation; this is an aspect of the freedom we gain by dying to self and becoming alive to God.

Such availability has a very real expression in our encounter with technology. Technology is attractive because of the God-given allure of the new new thing—but it's also "sticky," in that for many of us, it entraps our attention, making us so focused on it that we become less, not more, available. We may have technologically bought ourselves some time, but that time is only valuable (as opposed to merely accessible) if we can direct our use of it from a position of availability. Retaining access to this kind of awareness is what I mean by an availability consciousness. I'm not suggesting we reserve 6% of our brains to constantly chant, "What else is going on?" or "What's God saying now?" The issue is more nuanced than that—it has to do with one's point of view, one's way of seeing and engaging at all times.

Let me give an example. I went to a baseball game with a friend last night and the guy sitting next to us was drunker than he realized. He was also yelling more loudly, crudely and disruptively than he realized. He did not have access to a sufficient degree of self-awareness or self-control to see the impact of his actions. He's probably a pretty decent fellow with fewer beers in him, but neither he nor we could recognize it at the time. We all lost something in the process (he got thrown out, and we were distracted).

That's the critical question—can you recognize your degree of availability? Given the immense power for good and the incredible attractiveness of today's dazzling and elegant technologies, it's easy to lose our availability without knowing it. Ever so subtly, technology becomes the object of our attention, rather than the tool of it. Developing an availability consciousness will help us guard against accidentally slipping into making a god of Technology, rather than responding to the God of technology.

We need to match technology's advances with our own increasing maturity as technology creators, users and observers. Perhaps we can better respond to that challenge by reflecting on what newness and availability have to tell us about technology and its use.