The American colonies were founded by people who took the risk of
change by the horns and left Europe to sail for strange soils. When the east coast
got crowded and set in its ways, Americans looked for something new and populated
the plains and later the western territory, all the way to the Pacific Ocean.
This country grew into what it is today because the leaders who
came before us dared to embrace the new and different and leave behind what no
longer fit.
We have no trouble admiring creative minds who think “outside
the box” and challenge assumptions; in fact, every year we try to think
about things differently, eliminate non-productive behaviors, set goals, and make
resolutions.
So isn’t it ironic that despite all this positive experience
with changing from the old and stifling to what’s new and challenging, we
persist in handicapping our future by how we think about people who thrive on
variety and change.
When our future leaders are in high school, we demand they
be eager to move their energy and attention from science to English to
math and to history. We are not satisfied if they play the trumpet or
love playing Shakespearean characters or play a sport or write
for the school newspaper. We push them to constantly take on new things: to be
in the band, act, make all their foul shots, and get published. The message
here: be “well-rounded” or you’ll fail to get into those colleges
that graduate Fortune 500 CEOs, heads of government, innovators and inventors.
But what happens when these young people with their multitude of
interests and skills arrive at college? By the end of their sophomore year, many
are told being equally interested in music, sports, literature, and language is
being “spread too thin.” “What do you want to major in?”
we ask. And when we get an answer, the next thing we want to know is “What
do you plan to do with that? How will that be your career?” Thus multi-faceted
young people are reminded in many ways that the question “What do you want
to be when you grow up?” is supposed to have only one answer. No changes
allowed here, unless necessary!
All of which is fine for those leaders, like Bill Gates and Bill
Clinton, who were wired to pursue one passion. But what about those who don’t
have a Mozart’s passion for one thing only? What about our future Ben Franklin’s
who participate in government, carry out cutting-edge work in electricity, design
post offices, invent bifocals, study coastal waters, revel in French language
and culture, and edit a paper?
I have spent 15 years researching and coaching just such multi-faceted
people. They all have three key characteristics in common: their preference
is for variety and combination, rather than concentrating on one thing; their
process involves widening options rather than narrowing choices, and
their response to success is often to move on to something different
instead of expanding what they already have. Once these Ben Franklins figure out
the challenge of a given activity, they lose interest in it and direct
their energies at solving new problems: they love the steep part of the learning
curve. They make great entrepreneurs and high-level leaders because they thrive
on wearing the many hats those positions require. Yet they often can’t say
where they picture themselves in five years because the paths that beckon are
so varied and often completely disconnected.
These Renaissance Souls, are of all ages and come from almost all
walks of life. In my book Renaissance Souls, I profile many of these
gifted leaders. They are all successful people, yes, but all of whose gifts could
have been so easily lost to us. Why? Because so often well-intentioned, well-meaning
bosses, managers, family members and friends still don’t grasp that Ben
Franklin was not a broken Mozart. They are still stuck inside the box labeled
“The only way to financial security is to get on that career ladder and
hold on until the perks at the top are yours.” This definition of success
assumes that promoting talented people is the sure way to motivate them.
But what does the usual promotion involve for Renaissance Souls?
Nothing more than continuing to do what they have already mastered, but being
in charge of more people or being responsible for a larger territory. For the
Mozarts of the world, writing music for larger orchestras or being invited to
give concerts in more far-flung places can be truly satisfying, even if the pay
increase isn’t all that great. But the Ben Franklins will not thrive and
be their most creative selves if all they are doing is more of the same, regardless
of the degree of responsibility or size of the raise.
So if we are going to get the best from ourselves and others, we
must start thinking differently. When Ben Franklins can move sideways from the
public policy side of things to the research side, we should reward them
for that flexibility instead of leaving them financially behind. Perhaps management
could offer paid educational sabbaticals as a form of pay grade increase? Or pay
for these knowledge-hungry Renaissance Souls to attend conferences that
stretch beyond and cross-fertilize the thinking the job requires of them day-to-day?
Why can’t we grasp that the resume that includes nuclear physics,
international pharmacology, and Wall Street may be just the resume we should be
looking for when we’re looking for a creative, imaginative, well-informed
documentary filmmaker?
Many great leaders are Renaissance Souls who thrive on the challenge
of taking in the big picture and thinking about how all the pieces can best move
forward productively. Anyone who fully understands the Renaissance Soul can take
himself and his team to new heights because he’ll find his place and be
utilized to his best advantage. Businesses have long grasped the value of executive
coaching; now they need to be sure Renaissance Souls have coaches who help them
succeed. PE
