Above all, I value truth—in particular, the truth of our collective interdependence, of the delicacy of this socioecoLOGic web into which literally each of us is woven (UNEP, 2025). I find it salient in virtually every conversation. This is why my leadership begins with one refrain: I am not here for me, myself, and I, but for we, ourselves, and us.

I know we all have room for growth—myself included. This awareness shapes how I show up in the world: my goal is authenticity—the truths I know of myself and the world integrated as fully as possible. Little matters more to me than that integration—than my integrity. To sustainably fortify that integrity, I seek out new awareness to be integrated from self-reflective practice and feedback-chasing. Because I know full well that I am a work in progress, I seek and treasure honest feedback. I seek it directly. My go-to question: “Be honest—how am I driving you crazy?” When something feels off, I follow up: “I’ve noticed X, but what am I not seeing?” I close the loop by confirming what I heard: “If I stop this and start that, would it help?” And I tell people upfront that I will mess up—please tell me when I do. (Scott, Fosslien, & Duffy, 2023). I treasure that honesty because clear is kind (Brown, 2018). So when they do tell me, I thank them for their generosity and investment in our mutual care. I understand that every step anyone takes toward another with the intent to speak an uncomfortable truth is a step of faith in the receiver, and I never take that faith for granted. 

I have found that modeling this intentional interpretation of receiving constructive feedback and expressing this genuine gratitude goes a long way towards helping those I lead in finding the courage to join me in this posture. They know I hold myself to the same standard I ask of them: we wrestle against the impulse to cower from truth and its implications for action. When I approach any hard conversation, I make clear that I am going to be honest because I am interested in our development, our improvement, our success. Sustainable change depends not on any one individual, but on community, and I remind others of this because I want them to know that I know this. People can hear hard truths when they know you can’t be there to defeat them because you’re on the same side in the same fight and need their help. 

I lead through coaching and curiosity–shifting from the role of a traditional inspector to a connected conversationalist. I hold that same conviction: my job is not to have or demand all the answers but to draw insight out of the people around me. Sustainable improvement is never won at the expense of psychological safety, but through honest appraisal and achievable, incremental steps. The zone of proximal development doesn’t just apply to individual learners, after all—I’ve come to see it as a powerful lens for understanding our little, and not so little, growing and changing organizations, too (Vygotsky, 1978). So I ask, a thousand times and in countless ways: how well does performance align with what we know, and what can we do about it?

Organizations, too, are works in progress. The problems we see often distract us from the ones we don’t—problems hiding in a system’s history, culture, or context. Uncovering them requires listening—attending not just to what is said, but to what is conspicuously unsaid. At a school in which I was once given the reins of our 12th grade AP English classes, advanced classes across all grades and disciplines were almost entirely white despite a majority-Black student body—and no one talked about it. I read that silence as passive exclusion on the part of the staff, not lack of capability on the part of the students. So, that spring, I pulled the data, identified students, and successfully recruited them–one planning period’s hallway bench conversation at a time. Each conversation was some version of, 

“Did you know you’ve been capable of this and could take a class that will inoculate you against the 50% drop out rate your fellow college freshmen will face?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“Well I do–and only one of the people on this bench knows what earns an A in that class.” 

The next fall, enrollment had doubled, half had never taken an advanced class in eleven years of school—and a lot of people found out they were capable of a whole lot more.

Long before I encountered Cathy Moore’s (2017) action mapping framework, I was already doing what I now recognize as analyzing systems, discovering hidden problems, and designing solutions—then developing learning experiences to recruit collaborators. These were never problems a single person could address well, and after enough such experiences, I learned that every solution benefits from a second perspective. My commitment to excellence requires mutual respect—which, at its etymological root, means simply to look again. This is why Respect is one of my 8 Essentials for adult learning design: honoring prior knowledge, yes, but also the practice of re-examining what we think we already understand. That re–spect, that looking-again, is where transformation toward excellence begins. Curiosity over quick judgment is the practice—and it’s the engine that moves any group from mere consciousness of self and others toward genuine community. 

People are messy. We fall into negative comparison as though anyone else is us, with our unique histories and the choices we have had and will need to make. Then some of us react to these comparisons by living in amygdala-dominated states. Polyvagal theory names what happens next: the fighter scrambles to the peak of the nearest power-hierarchy, the freezer sits beside it admiring the view, and the flyer is nowhere to be found—having, of course, already flown.  I believe strong leaders recognize these cognitive derailings, actively resist them to stay the course, and reach back to others to guide them past those detours to dead-end existences. Mindful leaders divide their energy between understanding where they are, where others are, and where we all need to head—then foster collaborative movement toward that shared destination. The destination I keep returning to is conscious, curious community—people who are okay within themselves, okay with each other, and therefore capable of tackling complex problems together.

References

Brown, B. (2018, October 15). Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind. Brené Brown. https://brenebrown.com/articles/2018/10/15/clear-is-kind-unclear-is-unkind/

Ibarra, H., & Scoular, A. (2019). The leader as coach. Harvard Business Review, 97(6), 110–119.

Moore, C. (2017). Map it: The hands-on guide to strategic training design. Montesa Press.

Scott, K., Fosslien, L., & Duffy, M. W. (2023, March 10). How leaders can get the feedback they need to grow. Harvard Business Review. https://hbr.org/2023/03/how-leaders-can-get-the-feedback-they-need-to-grow

United Nations Environment Programme. (2025). We are all in this together: Annual report 2024. https://www.unep.org/annualreport/

Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Harvard University Press.