Learning Curve: Lessons on Leadership, Education, and Personal Growth

By Jared Smith

Personal development is not easy. So why do so many leadership and self-help books read like an author's highlight reel?

Learning Curve pushes back against conventional literature by discussing the real, behind-the-scenes challenges of a developing school leader. Blending authentic anecdotes with relevant research,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr. Jared Smith LLC
• Release date: Aug 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737290414

Jared Smith

Dr. Jared Smith is the Superintendent of the South Tama County School District in central Iowa. Jared holds a BA in Elementary and Middle Level Education from the University of Northern Iowa, an MS in Educational Leadership from National Louis University, and a PhD in Educational Leadership from Iowa State University.Jared has taught and coached at both the middle school and high school levels. Prior to taking his current role of superintendent, Jared worked as an assistant principal and principal for ten years. Jared is also an award-winning blogger and host of The Group Project Podcast.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

It seems to me if you look back on yourself a year ago and aren’t shocked by how stupid you were, you haven’t learned much.¹

—FROM Principles: Life and Work BY RAY DALIO

Consider the decisions you have made over the past year. Is there something you did where you asked yourself: What the (heck) was I thinking?

While agonizing over every mistake is not constructive, understanding we have the ability to learn from our experiences is one of the greatest powers we have as humans.

Rather than squander limitless potential, those who embrace lifelong learning understand every day is an opportunity to improve.

If you think I’ve always enjoyed learning—you’re wrong.

After graduating from college, I believed learning was done. At 22 years old, I was convinced everything worth knowing had already been uncovered. My previous 16 years were spent in the classroom—what else was there to know?

Sadly, the beginning of my professional teaching career made it blatantly obvious there was still plenty to learn.

My first couple months of teaching high school math were a breeze. The kids were well-behaved, and I was doing something I enjoyed. I can’t believe they pay me to do this! I recall thinking.

However, I pity anyone who visited my classroom after October. Do you recall the scene in Kindergarten Cop where the kids are running around out of control and Detective John Kimble (Arnold Schwarzenegger) eventually yells, SHUUT UUP!?² Unfortunately, that scene was recreated far too often in my classroom.

But typical of many prideful rookies, I didn’t think my struggles meant I had more to learn. "I just had a rough group of students," I justified after finishing the year.

Year two was basically a repeat of year one. The fall months went fine, but as winter approached, I once again lost control of my classes. "I don’t need to change—the students need to change," I reasoned upon finishing my second year.

Years three and four were more of the same. My third year I blamed student upbringing: No wonder these kids don’t want to learn—look at their parents! My fourth year I blamed school administration: It’d be nice if the principal gave me some support!

At age 26, and 4 years of (mediocre) teaching under my belt, I decided I was ready for a change. School administration didn’t look too difficult, so I applied for a few jobs and managed to land a middle school assistant principal gig.

"This leadership thing can’t be too complicated," I predicted while preparing for my new endeavor.

It didn’t take long to discover I was in over my head. Whereas I survived teaching through determination, perseverance, and Red Bull, I couldn’t fake my way through supervising 80 adults. Once they saw past my charismatic personality, the staff quickly detected I knew little about organizational leadership.

There came a moment when I realized if I didn’t learn how to effectively manage employees, I would forever be miserable at work . . . or get fired.

As someone who was entrusted to lead a team of educators, I had forgotten the core business of our profession was learning. How could I require high levels of learning for all if I didn’t model those expectations in my own behavior?

I needed to become a lifelong learner.

As I brainstormed ways to enhance my job performance, attention centered on earning my superintendent’s license and PhD in educational leadership. While the notion of earning another degree was admittedly depressing, a colleague who was already registered convinced me to enroll.

When I showed up to my first superintendents’ class I felt out of place. I was an inexperienced, insecure assistant principal surrounded by veteran, confident head principals and district office administrators.

I’m way out of my league, I thought as we wrapped up the first day.

However, I knew significant improvement required me to push beyond my comfort zone. Even though quitting crossed my mind numerous times, I ignored the self-doubt and immersed myself in the work.

As I progressed through the coursework something started to change. The more I learned in class, the more comfortable I felt in my job. Workplace problems that usually gave me fits were now manageable thanks to newly acquired knowledge. My confidence grew with each passing week.

Whereas adult learning always felt like a chore, it began to feel—dare I say—enjoyable.

After six difficult but satisfying years, I finished my doctorate. While some opt for a professional learning sabbatical after writing the dissertation, my appetite for learning was growing. I found fulfillment in exploring the work of proven experts and testing their theories in my own setting.

Although my curiosity originated with leadership and education, it was clear continuous improvement was possible across many life pursuits. Soon I was soaking up information on such topics as fitness, nutrition, personal finance, relationships, and psychology.

Eventually, I had compiled a generous amount of information on the topics of leadership, education, and self-help—which I prefer to call personal growth. And as an educator who finds pleasure in helping others, my natural inclination was to share my discoveries.

However, I had doubts about publicly voicing my findings.

My first hesitation was that I would be exposed as a fraud: Do I really know what I’m talking about? Others have been around for a lot longer and are much smarter than me. My second hesitation was looking self-righteous: If I start sharing ideas, people are going to think I’m just some hotshot who thinks he knows everything. That is not who I am!

With great reluctance, I slowly began sharing ideas in meetings, at conferences, and on social media. To my surprise, others found value in my perspective. Not only did they embrace my thoughts, they also began using my suggestions in their own settings.

With the increasingly positive feedback came a willingness to take bigger chances. First a website. Next a blog. Then a newsletter. And finally, a podcast.

What about a book? some folks asked.

Me? I’d reply, chuckling at the idea. Maybe when I’m older. I have waaay too much to learn.

However, the more my audience grew, the more I realized people enjoyed hearing about the journey. Readers voiced admiration for my willingness to share my successes—and failures—while trying to improve professionally and personally.

If you wait 20 years to write your book, will you remember going through the process? questioned one colleague. No one has written a book like this.

She was right.

My personal development journey resulted in reading hundreds of books on the topics of leadership, education, and personal growth. Although many of these books were phenomenal and completely transformed my life, I couldn’t help but notice two unsettling patterns.

First were the authors. Most leadership books were written by business CEOs with no connection to schools. Many education books were written by consultants no longer employed by schools. And nearly all personal growth books were written by celebrities with no affiliation to schools.

Second was the content. While countless books covered the topics of leadership, education, and personal growth either individually or in pairs, very few publications attempted to navigate the obvious intersection of all three themes.

No one has written a book like this.

Until now.

This book is comprised of three sections: Leadership, Education, and Personal Growth. All three parts contain several bite-sized pieces of content related to the overarching section. To give the book a natural flow, similar topics are pieced together.

Despite its deliberate structure, there is no right way to read this book. Feel free to read from cover to cover, or bounce around and choose topics that pique your interest. Think of this book as a buffet. You can start with the salad bar and proceed to the main course . . . or you can go straight for dessert.

Given this book tackles numerous issues, there may be topics that do not pertain to your current situation. Simply skip those sections and come back when you believe the subject is more applicable.

However, understand that books change as you undergo different life experiences. As time passes, concepts initially deemed unimportant may later prove meaningful. Avoid permanently rejecting any ideas as they may deliver future value.

In The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey said, The single most powerful investment we can ever make in life is investment in ourselves.³

My hope is you view this book as an investment. Whether you are looking for a few helpful ideas—or are searching for a complete mental makeover—realize lifelong learning is always time well spent.

What are you waiting for?

Let’s get started.

LEADERSHIP

Positive leaders are humble and hungry. They don’t think they know it all. They are lifelong learners who are always seeking ways to learn, improve, and grow. They are always open to new ideas and strategies to take their life and work to the next level. They live with humility, knowing that the minute they think they’ve arrived at the door of greatness is the moment it will get slammed in their face.¹

—FROM The Power of Positive Leadership BY JON GORDON

YOU LOOK LIKE OPIE!

First impressions matter.

Whereas favorable first impressions can serve as the foundation of a prosperous relationship, poor first impressions can be nearly impossible to undo.

For school leaders assuming a new position, few first impressions are more important than the initial all-staff meeting. When I became a superintendent, I wanted to make our first gathering extra special, so we took all 250 employees to a nearby convention center for a Back-to-School Celebration a week before school started.

As a relatively young superintendent (36 years old), I felt pressure to show I could effectively lead the district despite my age. Hoping to set a tone of competence and confidence, I crafted an introductory speech outlining my educational history, work accomplishments, leadership philosophy, and long-term goals.

The day before the celebration I met a mentor for lunch. During our conversation, he encouraged me to provide an overview of my introductory message. Eager for feedback, I summarized the speech, explaining my intent was to appear highly skilled and self-assured to compensate for my inexperience.

To my surprise, the mentor pushed back on my thinking. While he agreed there were solid aspects to the speech, he offered an alternate suggestion. Whereas most leaders believe introductions are a time to ooze confidence, he proposed I utilize a more down-to-earth approach.

Don’t forget to show them you’re human, he advised. Vulnerability isn’t a bad thing.

That night I barely slept. Already anxious for the following day, the mentor’s advice to modify the message did nothing to calm my nerves.

Vulnerability . . . the first time I meet these people? I thought as I was lying in bed, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

The next morning, I woke up more receptive to the mentor’s recommendation. I went to the office early and added several childhood photos to the presentation. Along with those images, I outlined a few personal stories to share if the opportunity arose.

Minutes before the presentation I was incredibly anxious. If I bomb this . . . the staff will hate me . . . and then I’ll get fired . . . and then I’ll never work in education again, I worried as staff grabbed their coffee and found their seats.

When the event began my nerves were on full display. I rushed through the welcome and stumbled over new staff introductions. After a few words from the Teachers’ Association president and the Scholarship Committee chair, the floor was mine.

I began with the canned I’m excited for this opportunity and "the community has been incredible," words most new leaders share. Next, I did the traditional Here is my work experience in chronological order bit.

As I finished reciting my path from high school math teacher to high school principal, I quickly glanced at the audience. They sat quiet and expressionless. While they weren’t booing me off the stage, I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm in their body language.

Eager to break the tension, I followed the mentor’s advice and began describing my upbringing. Flipping through a number of childhood school photos, I made fun of my elementary wardrobe choices, middle school haircuts, and acne-ridden high school days.

Me—6th Grade

Immediately, the pressure in the room diminished. Staff were smiling, laughing, and entertained with the content. The more I let my guard down, the more the staff seemed open to the message. Sensing the momentum, I began sharing how pivotal life moments impacted my life as an adult.

I admitted kids used to call me Opie (from The Andy Griffith Show) because I was a scrawny redhead with big ears, and how this teasing resulted in self-confidence issues. Later, I discussed the night my parents shared they were getting a divorce, and how this bombshell altered our family dynamics. Finally, I described my ongoing battle with anxiety, and how panic attacks riddled my life as an adult.

After the personal stories, I transitioned into my original presentation. We covered everything from my leadership philosophy, to long-term goals for the district, to a group activity focused on growth mindset.

After the dust settled from the all-day event, I sat down and opened my email. To my delight, I received numerous positive messages about the presentation. But it wasn’t the educational buzzwords or the fresh initiatives the staff applauded. It had been the moments of vulnerability they appreciated.

Just wanted to thank you for a great presentation yesterday, said one email. We haven’t had a superintendent lead an hour of professional development in 20 years. Everyone left with the most positive attitude we’ve had here in a long time. Great job!

In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown advises, Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection.² As leaders, we are often taught to keep a distance and project an image of confidence, competence, and authority. However, it is vulnerability that is the source of human connection.

The next time you get a chance for a first impression, consider the following:

Be humble.

Share your screwups.

Laugh at yourself.

Admit your faults.

A little vulnerability goes a long way.

SO YOU DIDN’T GET THE JOB...

I spent eight years as an assistant principal.

Those eight years provided a great learning experience. I handled all of the responsibilities that go with being an AP such as behavior, scheduling, supervision, evaluation, and instructional leadership.

Although I enjoyed the role, like most APs I had a dream of one day running my own building. There had always been something about having the opportunity to put my own touch on a school that was appealing.

During my time as an assistant principal, I applied for numerous head principal jobs. While other colleagues got their shot after a single interview, I didn’t have nearly the same luck.

My first ten interviews ended in rejection.

That’s right. I didn’t get my chance until my 11th interview.

Dealing with rejection can be difficult. Given most leaders are accustomed to success, not being selected for an administrative job can be a humbling experience.

Unfortunately, enduring several interviews before reaching the next level is typical. Whereas sometimes it appears school administration gatekeepers are playing a cruel joke, the reality is most jobs are highly competitive with dozens of applicants.

Like many others, I struggled with rejection. I felt anger toward district decision makers and jealousy toward the person who was selected. Furthermore, my confidence took a blow as I doubted my professional abilities and questioned my effectiveness as a leader.

Worse yet is not getting a job that has gone public. When districts publicly name administrative finalists on social media and in the local newspaper, candidates face added pressure. Not only can it be embarrassing to admit, I didn’t get the job, community members in the administrator’s current district may question the motive for interviewing elsewhere.

One of the many times I was publicly named a finalist but didn’t get the job. (Article courtesy of the Marshalltown Times-Republican)

Despite these challenges, know time heals everything.

Eventually disappointment subsides and confidence returns. When this happens, focus on what you can control: How can I perform better in interviews? What weaknesses need to be addressed? Where can I grow in my current job?

Rather than blame others for your misfortune, prepare for your next opportunity: Create artifacts highlighting your achievements. Recalibrate your leadership core values. Request new challenges in your current position.

Also, remember everything happens for a reason.

Reflect on the jobs you haven’t been offered. In hindsight, are you still upset you didn’t get the job? Often people realize they are much happier how things played out in the end.

I host a podcast called The Group Project Podcast. The show provides me with an opportunity to pick the brains of an eclectic group of high performers while focusing on the topics of leadership, education, and personal growth.

One set of questions I often ask is: Can you recall a job you applied for but did not get? and What did you learn from this experience? Time and time again, guests discuss a job they didn’t get, and then explain how fortunate they were not to have landed the position.

For me, one job stands out in particular. I gave a stellar interview and was certain I was the most qualified candidate. My confidence was so high that my girlfriend and I began house hunting! But after a couple weeks of hearing nothing (not even a phone call), I realized I didn’t get the job. I was stunned.

Here is a folder where some of my job application materials were stored.

As I look back on the process, I am thankful I was not selected. My philosophy did not fit the district culture and my strengths would have been limited by the position. Finally, I would not have been happy working for the leadership in that particular district.

Often, not getting a job can be a blessing in disguise.

John Jocko Wilink is a retired US Navy SEAL officer and the author of several leadership books including Extreme Ownership and The Dichotomy of Leadership.

Jocko is also the host of the Jocko Podcast. In episode three, Jocko discusses his perspective on failure. He explains when things go bad, there’s always something good that will come from the experience:

How do I deal with setbacks, failures, delays, defeats, or other disasters? I have a fairly simple way of dealing with these situations, summed up in one word: Good.

Oh, mission got canceled? Good. We can focus on another one.

Didn’t get promoted? Good. More time to get better.

Didn’t get the job you wanted? Good. Build a better resume.

Got beat? Good. We