The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Humility is the Key
Today, I received the roster of the section I'll be facilitating for the leadership development program we offer for brand new executives at our company. Uh-oh, I recognized a name. Uh-oh, we started working for our company around the same time. Uh-oh, can my ego take it that he's an executive and I'm not? Uh-oh, will my being his facilitator make him self-conscious with his learning?
That last worry, I'm pretty confident, was my projection. Will I be self-conscious in my facilitation with him, being among the learners?
Should I go ask to have him switched, I wondered. I sat at my desk, pondering what to do until I was distracted by the memory of a great trip to Milan that he and I were lucky to take. It was for an ibm.com training class back in the day.
There's a photo of him with two female colleagues and me, all of us looking unusually European -- well, one of us was from Vienna, so she was entitled to look European. It's on my wall in my office.
Whoever's class he's in, should I invite him up to my office during a break to see a picture of us from a decade ago? Would he find it sweet? Would he remember?
Why did he become an executive and I, not yet? Usually, I console myself, considering, there are nearly 400,000 IBMers worldwide and only ~5,000 executives worldwide, and so it would be a huge deal to become one...especially in a technology company when my expertise and education are not in a technical field.
When IBM came to campus my senior year, I didn't bother to interview with the company, figuring, What would IBM want with a Comparative Literature major? How I got here is another story, to tell another day, but for tonight, I need to come back to the present and pray.
My Prayer
God, please let me be useful and of service to the 16 participants, who will be learning in the section I'm facilitating, beginning at 8 am on Wednesday, and going through midday on Friday. Let me be rid of my ego.
Let me help the learners have a wonderfully-rich, memorable experience during this milestone in their careers.
Let me treat my particular colleague well and be humble and confident in my facilitation. Let him and me be comfortable in our respective roles. Let me be pleasantly surprised by how we learn together this week, and by any other experiences that I can't anticipate or know ahead of time. Amen.
Showing posts with label humility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humility. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Monday, December 1, 2008
Humility
The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.
Perfectionism's Necessary Counter-Balance
Some years ago, I was complaining to a friend at how upset I was that I didn't achieve something or another -- genuinely, I cannot remember about what I was grousing per se. I do recall her response, though:
"Sarah, you are not perfect...very nearly, but not."
I laughed, but I'm reminded of the exchange tonight.
This afternoon, I visited one of my favorite professors. I met with her, so that she could critique a paper of mine from last year. From a year ago.
"I haven't seen you since the Holiday Party," she began.
"Right. I'm sorry that I disappeared. It was babyish, but you handed me my paper at the party and I was so ashamed that you didn't love it [when I peeked at it while walking out of the building and while stopped at traffic lights on my way home] that I couldn't contact you afterward. I was too embarrassed."
"Well, I felt rejected when I didn't hear from you, and am glad to see you now."
"No, no, no. It was all my problem. I was just chagrined. Sorry to have been such a baby."
"I'm fond of you, so I'm glad you're back now."
I had brought the paper with me, so that we could go through it together and I had a giant lump in my throat the whole time, which transformed into tears as we talked.
"Look, you were so driven when you were in my class your first semester that I thought you were interested in the doctoral program here, and so I read it with an eye toward that. It didn't have an academic writing style."
"It's so ironic. I just came here from the information session on Kappa Delta Pi. I always want to do well, and be recognized for it, but...I don't really enjoy writing academically."
"I don't either. It's not creative."
"But you do it."
"Not very much. Mostly, I work with doctoral students on their writing."
"Well, I had such hopes for this paper when I wrote it. I wanted to be a big-shot and get it published."
"You still could. It wouldn't be such a stretch for you to do academic writing...if you wanted to do it."
"That's the thing. Half-way through this program now, I feel a bit lost. I keep thinking there's gotta be *some* scheme I can use to become published and I guess my latest idea was to get published via my work in grad school."
"Now that Obama has been elected, it's probably is fresh again. You could publish it if you wanted to. I mean, if you want to teach anyone, it's probably a good idea to publish."
"See, that's it. I enrolled in Teachers College because my sister had breast cancer, and I was afraid she wouldn't survive, and I thought, someone's gotta carry on where she left off."
"Is your sister an academic?"
"She was the principal of Brooklyn International High School, and has degrees from here and Bank Street College."
"Oh."
"Well, she survived, and then my mother had breast cancer and she survived, and meanwhile, I'm only half-way through this program and it's taking forever, since I'm taking only three credits a semester while working full-time."
"So it sounds like the doctoral program's not something you're still entertaining."
"No, I guess not."
"May I get that? It's my daughter." My professor's cell phone was ringing.
"Of course."
"Honey, I'm at school. May I call you back?"
I watched my professor and thought: I can't even create a child *or* an article, and she has done both!
"Sorry about that. My kids never call unless it's something bad, but she just said that she'd call my husband."
It was 28 minutes into the 30 I had scheduled with her and my sails were airless. "Well, I really appreciate your time and help, and again, I'm sorry that I was such a baby. [And then through tears:] I'm sorry to need this, too, but do you even still think I'm smart?"
"I don't think it. I *know* it."
"Thank you. On my way out, I want to tell you: Sometimes I feel like a visionary, but like people don't always want to hear my vision. Sometimes, I feel like I can scare people." (This had nothing to do with the paper. I don't know why my ego kicked in then, but probably it was meant to be a way to buoy myself.)
"Think about Obama. Nobody is that restrained. Nobody. And yet he is able to not scare people, and he got elected. People can hear his message."
"That's a bonus point. You're right. He's a good role model." I wanted to die more than ever, hearing that, regardless that it was meant to be constructive.
"So your mother and sister are well now?" she asked as my hand reached for her office-door-knob.
"Yes, thank God."
"And your kids, and you?"
She looked away. Someone she loved was "...having inconclusive tests."
I felt even worse. Here I was, whining about my crummy, little paper, which when put in a life and death perspective, didn't feel so big. And yet it did, and still does.
"I will pray for [the person's] restored health because often, like my mother and sister, people turn out fine."
"Yes, they do," she said.
I smiled wanly and thanked her again as I shut the door.
Perfectionism's Necessary Counter-Balance
Some years ago, I was complaining to a friend at how upset I was that I didn't achieve something or another -- genuinely, I cannot remember about what I was grousing per se. I do recall her response, though:
"Sarah, you are not perfect...very nearly, but not."
I laughed, but I'm reminded of the exchange tonight.
This afternoon, I visited one of my favorite professors. I met with her, so that she could critique a paper of mine from last year. From a year ago.
"I haven't seen you since the Holiday Party," she began.
"Right. I'm sorry that I disappeared. It was babyish, but you handed me my paper at the party and I was so ashamed that you didn't love it [when I peeked at it while walking out of the building and while stopped at traffic lights on my way home] that I couldn't contact you afterward. I was too embarrassed."
"Well, I felt rejected when I didn't hear from you, and am glad to see you now."
"No, no, no. It was all my problem. I was just chagrined. Sorry to have been such a baby."
"I'm fond of you, so I'm glad you're back now."
I had brought the paper with me, so that we could go through it together and I had a giant lump in my throat the whole time, which transformed into tears as we talked.
"Look, you were so driven when you were in my class your first semester that I thought you were interested in the doctoral program here, and so I read it with an eye toward that. It didn't have an academic writing style."
"It's so ironic. I just came here from the information session on Kappa Delta Pi. I always want to do well, and be recognized for it, but...I don't really enjoy writing academically."
"I don't either. It's not creative."
"But you do it."
"Not very much. Mostly, I work with doctoral students on their writing."
"Well, I had such hopes for this paper when I wrote it. I wanted to be a big-shot and get it published."
"You still could. It wouldn't be such a stretch for you to do academic writing...if you wanted to do it."
"That's the thing. Half-way through this program now, I feel a bit lost. I keep thinking there's gotta be *some* scheme I can use to become published and I guess my latest idea was to get published via my work in grad school."
"Now that Obama has been elected, it's probably is fresh again. You could publish it if you wanted to. I mean, if you want to teach anyone, it's probably a good idea to publish."
"See, that's it. I enrolled in Teachers College because my sister had breast cancer, and I was afraid she wouldn't survive, and I thought, someone's gotta carry on where she left off."
"Is your sister an academic?"
"She was the principal of Brooklyn International High School, and has degrees from here and Bank Street College."
"Oh."
"Well, she survived, and then my mother had breast cancer and she survived, and meanwhile, I'm only half-way through this program and it's taking forever, since I'm taking only three credits a semester while working full-time."
"So it sounds like the doctoral program's not something you're still entertaining."
"No, I guess not."
"May I get that? It's my daughter." My professor's cell phone was ringing.
"Of course."
"Honey, I'm at school. May I call you back?"
I watched my professor and thought: I can't even create a child *or* an article, and she has done both!
"Sorry about that. My kids never call unless it's something bad, but she just said that she'd call my husband."
It was 28 minutes into the 30 I had scheduled with her and my sails were airless. "Well, I really appreciate your time and help, and again, I'm sorry that I was such a baby. [And then through tears:] I'm sorry to need this, too, but do you even still think I'm smart?"
"I don't think it. I *know* it."
"Thank you. On my way out, I want to tell you: Sometimes I feel like a visionary, but like people don't always want to hear my vision. Sometimes, I feel like I can scare people." (This had nothing to do with the paper. I don't know why my ego kicked in then, but probably it was meant to be a way to buoy myself.)
"Think about Obama. Nobody is that restrained. Nobody. And yet he is able to not scare people, and he got elected. People can hear his message."
"That's a bonus point. You're right. He's a good role model." I wanted to die more than ever, hearing that, regardless that it was meant to be constructive.
"So your mother and sister are well now?" she asked as my hand reached for her office-door-knob.
"Yes, thank God."
"And your kids, and you?"
She looked away. Someone she loved was "...having inconclusive tests."
I felt even worse. Here I was, whining about my crummy, little paper, which when put in a life and death perspective, didn't feel so big. And yet it did, and still does.
"I will pray for [the person's] restored health because often, like my mother and sister, people turn out fine."
"Yes, they do," she said.
I smiled wanly and thanked her again as I shut the door.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Well-wishers' Predictions, Reflections
The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.
Great Quotes From the Week
"I know you will learn as much as you will inspire." -- a colleague I mentor
"You will learn more about yourself than about India. You will learn humility. Nothing happens in a linear way." -- a friend of a friend who lived there for a year while his partner was teaching at one of the universities
"Indian leadership is intellectual, very cognizant, cognitive...contemplative." -- Dr. Julia Sloan (author of Learning to Think Strategically); I was lucky to be introduced to her by my professor from last semester, Dr. Janet Youngblood, author of Learning Democratic Practices....; the three of us met at Teachers College on Monday for a great conversation!
"I loved India because of the people. They are polite, kind, intelligent, interested, not jaded, hospitable, non-judgmental." -- a friend of a friend who lived there for a year while teaching at one of the universities
His partner added: "...honest, open, warm, genuine, down-to-earth...." And: "The big cities make New York look like Nixon died and all of our flags are at half-mast -- like we're asleep compared...."
Great Quotes From the Week
"I know you will learn as much as you will inspire." -- a colleague I mentor
"You will learn more about yourself than about India. You will learn humility. Nothing happens in a linear way." -- a friend of a friend who lived there for a year while his partner was teaching at one of the universities
"Indian leadership is intellectual, very cognizant, cognitive...contemplative." -- Dr. Julia Sloan (author of Learning to Think Strategically); I was lucky to be introduced to her by my professor from last semester, Dr. Janet Youngblood, author of Learning Democratic Practices....; the three of us met at Teachers College on Monday for a great conversation!
I hope that you have a wonderful experience in India. I hope that you stay well, and that the work is productive and fulfilling for you. I hope that you are able to explore and savor the deep religious traditions in India. I hope that you gather a lifetime's worth of adventures and stories, all with happy endings.-- an EAGLE friend
I look forward to reading about your adventures on your blog(s)!
"I loved India because of the people. They are polite, kind, intelligent, interested, not jaded, hospitable, non-judgmental." -- a friend of a friend who lived there for a year while teaching at one of the universities
His partner added: "...honest, open, warm, genuine, down-to-earth...." And: "The big cities make New York look like Nixon died and all of our flags are at half-mast -- like we're asleep compared...."
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