Be Unprepared

I was never a boy scout and proud of it. In our family, the Boy Scouts were jingoistic, paramilitary, not for me, an American version of Hitler’s Youth. I grew up listening to Tom Lehrer’s spoof of the Boy Scout slogan, “Be Prepared.” Spoof or no spoof, the slogan is pervasive.

As we built our network of charter schools, we were training our teachers to be prepared. “To fail to plan is to plan to fail,” was one our favorite slogans. We learned to emphasize the counter theme — “It’s not going to happen the way you planned it.” Bad teaching “sticks to the plan” whether or not the students are getting it, sticks to the plan when the content sparks unanticipated directions of inquiry, and crushes student inquiry because the teacher had planned to go somewhere else. Good teachers recognize that there are no bad questions only unanticipated questions.  They realize that the joy of teaching arises from the unexpected.

Teachers are not the only ones who fall victim to the planning delusion. It is a great sickness of managers everywhere. I was one of those managers. “Good managers,” successful managers set goals, plan for the unusual, and then deliver on the goals. I was a successful manager. My goals were intelligent, made sense, fit a strategic vision. (There were tricks, of course. It helped to negotiate the lowest goals my bosses would tolerate).

I delivered. Success. Meaning: All my goals were attained. But not because my plans reflected some brilliant insight into the future. I simply wouldn’t tolerate failure. I was ruthless in pushing for the results that I’d predicted. Some people on my team hated me. Some thrived, learned to manage the way I managed and went on to major promotions. I didn’t often look in the mirror, but the truth of the matter is that I hated being a son-of-a-bitch.

Zen practice helped find another way to lead and to teach, to invite the unexpected, the unplanned for, and to cherish the joy of surprise. Life becomes Christmas morning every moment.