Famous conductors are often judged for an hour or two on stage.
They wear expensive clothes, make dramatic gestures and receive standing ovations.
They also get paid a lot to carry a tiny little stick.
It turns out that none of these things is what makes Benjamin Zander so brilliant.
After years at the helm of the Boston Civic Symphony, Benjamin was fired in 1978 by the symphony’s board because he had insisted on playing “difficult” pieces.
The entire orchestra resigned in protest and, with Benjamin, went on to form the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra.
Benjamin observed after conducting for decades, that the conductor of an orchestra doesn’t make a sound, he depends for his power on his ability to make others powerful.
This has implications for everyone, including those working in education.
Similar to a conductor, the teacher's responsibility is to direct the initiative and act as a guide, establish culture and amplify esprit de corps, study the material, inspire students, help them jell, choose an appropriate approach and communicate that, unify the class around a common vision, set the pace, course-correct, deliver feedback, observe critically and shape the output of the whole class.
Benjamin's TED Talk spoke to me on many levels.
Education must not simply teach work, it must teach life.
That part about letting go of the unhealthy habit of students comparing themselves to one another was a throat punch.
In most cases, grades say little about the work done.
As a teacher.
As a trainer.
As a coach.
Or a leader.
You're not just producing a student, a project manager or a team leader, you're producing a human.
Teaching the same stuff without an audience in mind is like writing a love letter and addressing it, "To whom it may concern".
Isn't it your job to bring creativity and awaken possibility in others?
How do you know if you are succeeding?
You look at their eyes. If their eyes are shining, you know you’re doing it. If the eyes are not shining, you get to ask a question. And this is the question: who am I being that my players’ eyes are not shining? - Benjamin Zander
Sometimes you get kicked in the face.
There’s no denying it, failure sucks.
But it is only when you make mistakes that you can begin to notice what needs your attention.
"Mike Nichols was the prolific film director behind many classics, including The Graduate. Although people tend to remember Nichols’s hits, many of his films were flops. Some of these duds would appear from time to time - as flops do - on late-night television. Whenever Nichols came across one of his failures, he would park himself on his couch and watch the whole thing from start to finish. As he sat and watched, what’s important is what he wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t cringe. He wouldn’t look away. He wouldn’t blame the damn critics. He’d simply watch and think, “That’s so interesting, how that scene didn’t work out.” Not “I’m a loser.” Not “This is awful.” Not “What a complete embarrassment.” Instead, with no judgment, he’d ponder, “Isn’t it funny how sometimes things work and other times they don’t?” - Ozan Varol
Nichols’s approach reveals the secret to taking the sting out of failure.
Curiosity takes a failure, turns the volume of drama all the way down, and makes failure interesting.
It provides emotional distance, perspective, and an opportunity to view things through a different lens.
Students have a preconceived notion that achieving an A means they have to be perfect.
We all know this couldn’t be further from the truth.
When a player in Benjamin's orchestra makes a mistake, he teaches her not to give in to the voice of doubt or self-recrimination.
Instead, he makes it a point to stop and say, with a beaming smile, at the top volume “How fascinating!”
This takes the pressure off players trying to be perfect, and instead, focuses their attention on correcting that mistake going forward.
I'm big on moving forward.
There's a mantra in Benjamin's book, The Art Of Possibility that real leaders know but wannabe leaders don’t.
I am here today to cross the swamp, not to fight all the alligators.
Sage advice.
We often do the opposite, though.
The swamp looks scary, we may never reach the other side and so we fight the alligators to hide from the discomfort of actually crossing it.
It’s not like fighting alligators is completely unjustified.
They are there and they might present a danger to us.
So we feel compelled to fight them. ( How cool is it to say hey, “I 've defeated 3 alligators today!”)
We feel like we're making progress.
We are winning each battle but we are losing the war.
Still, the shore isn’t any closer.
We get side-tracked by every little thing that needs fixing, rather than putting all our efforts into crossing the swamp as planned.
What makes you a successful salesperson is the quality of the deals you close, not the number of your LinkedIn followers.
What makes you a successful presenter is the story you tell, not the software you use.
What makes your product successful is how remarkable it is, not how much money you spent on that FB campaign.
What makes you a great teacher is your ability to teach students to lead, solve interesting problems and fail along the way and not how much time you spend on tests, test prep, homework and memorization.
Identify the alligators in your life and ask yourself:
Is what I’m doing right now helping me to cross the swamp or is it actually an alligator that is distracting me from what is important?
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