The Titanic and the Sailboat
Saturday, October 3rd, 2009
The Titanic
(Article originally published in the Escanaba Daily Press, October 3, 2009)
On October 1st, I officially became Director of the Delta County Economic Development Alliance. Preparing for this first day on the job reminded me of a story about another first day.
Some years ago I was a middle school English teacher living in Minneapolis. One of my first jobs, fresh out of college, was taking over a classroom for a teacher who left mid-year. The odds were against me. I had more students than desks. I looked so young the school nurse couldn’t tell me apart from the 7th graders. The job was way bigger than me. But I’ve always been an achiever, and I wanted to do well.
So I read this book called The First Days of School about how to waltz into the classroom on Day One and whip those kids into shape. The book had instructions for launching the perfect discipline system with warnings, names on the board, and detention. I did everything the author advised to prepare for the perfect first day. I was sure I couldn’t fail.
You’re probably shocked that my first day wasn’t quite what the book promised. Those kids looked at my nervous smile, my navy blue stewardess suit and matching pumps, and smelled fresh meat. I literally fell on my backside that day: I was tripped by a big, mean girl named Latrice whose foot shot out into the aisle like a booby trap in the jungle. (Latrice was eventually expelled for stealing from the teacher’s lounge.) The only butt that got whipped on Day One was mine.
My book-learned, guaranteed-to-succeed approach failed miserably. That book gave me the blueprints for the Titanic — the perfect, unsinkable ship that hit an iceberg and sank.
As a naive new teacher I thought for sure that if I did all the right things and followed all the right steps, I’d be awesome at my job right out of the gate. What I refused to accept was that it takes time to learn how to teach.
When I found out I got the job as Economic Development Director for Delta County, my initial response was the same: “I need to read the right books, do all the right things, and come up with the right plan so I can be wildly successful and brilliant on Day One.” I obsessed over how to formulate a perfect economic development plan, how to sound knowledgeable, and how to inspire confidence in the people I will serve.
Thankfully, a small voice said, “Don’t you remember what happened on that other first day? Don’t build the Titanic. Start with a little boat.”
Captain Greg and Eli, Summer 2009
The little boat was inspired by my friend Greg, a sailor. When he was still a kid, Greg bought a little beat up sailboat, the kind where you get really wet. He spent a lot of time fixing it up and learning how to sail it. Greg sailed with older guys who were good at it. They taught him what they knew.
When Greg got more skilled, he saved up his money and bought a bigger boat — one where you still get wet, but not quite as much. Greg fixed up the bigger boat, joined racing crews, and got really good.
When he became an adult, Greg wanted to really go places. So he saved up and bought a bigger boat yet. The boat he has now. He takes it on cool family trips, and races it on Wednesdays in the summer, and sometimes he’s really nice and takes his friends out for a cruise. You don’t generally get wet on Greg’s current boat (unless you’re me).
Greg is happy with this boat. He found a little beat-up boat for his daughter. They’re fixing it up, and she’s learning how to sail just as her dad did.
One thing I discovered as a teacher was that often the lessons you teach are the ones you yourself most need to learn. The things I write and talk about in my role as EDA director will likely be things I’m trying to learn myself.
Lesson one: When you start a new job, don’t build the Titanic. Go find yourself a little boat. And some guys who know how to sail.
In the weeks and months to come, I’m going to be starting small. I don’t want to, but I know it’s necessary. I’d like to say I’m going to launch some big, fail-safe economic development plan that will transform Delta County overnight. Realistically, I will strive for small successes early on to build momentum and get the ball rolling. Then, slowly, thoughtfully, we will work together to build something bigger, something sustainable. A plan that will — five years from now, ten years from now — bring us the abundance of good paying jobs, the opportunities for our children, and the thriving local economy we all want.
I will also be talking to a lot of people who know more about our wonderful patch of the U.P. than I probably ever will. Just as Greg sails with all the teachers he ever had, even when he sails alone, I know any success I have in this job will come from the brains, generosity, and passion of many others. I can’t wait to get wet!
If you liked this post, you might also like, A Tale of Two C’s or My Life as a Trailing Spouse.
