Leadership Literacy: A Guide to Transform F-Bombs into Outcomes

By Joseph "Jody" Holland PhD and Dr. Thomas J. "Sparky" Reardon

Leadership is hard, and students are not taught tools regarding how to be a good leader. Too many times student leaders are propelled into leadership positions without proper training or knowledge, which creates Imposter Syndrome and fills them with self-doubt. Leadership Literacy introduces students to the INSPIRED Leadership Framework, which is a tool to enhance leadership knowledge, to improve leadership skills, and to develop stronger leadership habits so they can create positive outcomes. The framework highlights that student leaders should be Introspective, Nimble, Service-Oriented, Purposeful, Influential, Relational, Emotionally intelligent, and Determined. This book provides the foundation for improving a student's leadership journey and is an essential guide to transform F-bombs into outcomes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667887524

Book preview

Acknowledgements

Behind this book are years of failure, and I want to acknowledge those mishaps and unfortunate inconveniences that turned into amazing stories, lessons, and accomplishments. I learned from disappointments, unpleasant interactions, and flat-out bad decision-making, which led me to be much stronger and find a full life of leadership.

This project is alive on these pages because of the trust and confidence from Steve McDavid, executive director, of the Algernon Sydney Sullivan Foundation. Steve is a valuable connector, who provided resources and guidance on this project. The Algernon Sydney Sullivan Foundation is focused on fostering the practice of service among college students and working with the Algernon Sydney Sullivan team has been the greatest joy. The passion and energy that Spud Marshall, Reagan Pugh, Ronan Chalky McDomhnaill, Courtney Carlton, and Caroline Burlingame bring to projects inspire me to be a better person and to contribute to something bigger than myself.

Although I did not study at the University of Mississippi, I was always well aware of who Dr, Sparky Reardon was and the impact he had on so many students during his time at the university. Luckily, in 1998, while I was a leader in a fraternity at Delta State University, I received profound advice from him, and I continue to listen intently when he speaks. Thank you, Sparky for lending your name and your words to this project.

Also, I want to thank Maria Burnham for performing the first edits of the book. Without her diligent eye and witty personality, this project would not have been as fun, and when I questioned my own ability to complete this project, she provided support and insight into the fragility of a writer’s mind, which helped me realize I could complete the project.

Without question, any professor must thank their students, and it would be a dishonor not to mention those souls. As I crafted my ideas and the INSPIRED Leadership Framework, my first audience were my students. For the students in Public Policy Leadership 373: Leadership in the Policy Setting, thank you for enduring a cobbled collection of notions and thoughts, while this book manifested. I hope this process helped me become a better teacher, which helped you become a better leader. As I practice applying my leadership literacy, I pray you are successful at applying your leadership literacy.

Finally, I want to thank those around me who supported me during the time of writing this book. Jessica, thank you for your support and confidence in me. Madeline and Elise, thank you for supporting me and being my inspiration. While writing, we traveled to many places, and you provided me with love and energy. I will always be grateful.

Foreword

I was blessed to have the opportunity to serve in the student affairs division at the University of Mississippi for thirty-six years, the last fourteen of those as the Dean of Students. The job consisted of experiences and nuances that were rewarding, challenging, entertaining, and, many times, frustrating. One of the challenges that I experienced was understanding the college urban legends and myths that surrounded campus life. These legends and myths have persisted on college campuses for centuries and have given birth to traditions, rituals, and even their own patois. Many of these were fun and entertaining and possessed some intrinsic value in perpetuating a sense of place and embracement of institutional values.

The legend that frustrated me the most and, for the extent of my tenure, was the myth of the "student leader". So many times, I encountered or were told of this or that student who was a real student leader. And for too many times I accepted that assessment. These student leaders had been given that entitlement too frequently for all the wrong reasons. It didn’t take long for many of these student leaders to be exposed as impostors or to voluntarily abdicate the role of student leader in some cases with devastating consequences for the person and their organization.

I met Jody when he was a junior in college. At the encouragement of a friend, he had called seeking help on a situation within his fraternity. I was glad to give him what advice I could. After we concluded the call, I thought to myself, that guy has potential to be a student leader. Little did I know that almost thirty years later he would produce this book. As I read it, I thought to myself, I wish I had had this available to give to my students who aspired to be student leaders. Jody has shared his experiences, his research, and, most of all, himself in this book that should be a must on any college administrator’s bookshelf. The book’s value lies in the interweaving of anecdotal experiences, leadership theory and suggestions for practical application. Of particular value is the workbook curriculum Jody has devised. It’s almost, not quite, intriguing enough to have me rethink coming out of retirement to teach again.

Leadership Literacy is a valuable contribution to the body of work that is leadership theory. It kills the myth of student leader and turns it into a much needed reality for college campuses.

Dr. Thomas J. Sparky Reardon,

Dean of Students Emeritus, University of Mississippi.

Prologue

There I was, lying on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, hungover, hurting from drinking Jack Daniel’s and ripping cigs the night before. As I opened my eyes, I could see the dust, dirt, and a decaying cockroach under the dishwashing machine. I passed out there. What happened? How did I get here? What was going on in my life? I was 32 years old lying on the kitchen floor and trying to figure out what happened? At that moment, fog-headed and bruised on the inside and out, I realized the journey to this demise started in the eighth grade.

When I was four, my family moved to a rural farm, in Holcomb, Mississippi, where my father managed a 700-head cattle ranch on 2,500 acres of the most beautiful landscape you could imagine, which was owned by a German company. It was my beautiful hell—rolling hills and pristine views—but lots of work and tons of isolation. I attended the local academy 20 miles away from the farm. Every morning, my dad would take me to the local Baptist church and drop off my brother and me to catch the Road Runner school bus. It was a bright red school bus with the Road Runner cartoon character’s image on the side of it. It looked like we were on the way to Woodstock or Coachella, not school. The bus picked up the twenty or so farm kids at the local church at 7:15 a.m. and dropped us off at school at 7:50 a.m. The parents in the small, rural town who sent us to the academy collectively purchased the bus to haul all the students back and forth from school. Getting off that hippy-style bus every morning at school was a shot of insecurity. We were called Holcomb hooligans and most of us looked like little rednecks stepping out of a deer stand. Some kids on that bus were hailed by the nicknames of Bucket, Stick, and Boll Weevil (pronounced Bo Weevil). We were the country kids going to school with the sons and daughters of doctors, bankers, lawyers, and other wealthy folks. It was an all-White school, but it was segregated by socioeconomics, as well as urban and rural addresses. There were other rural kids there too, from other surrounding small communities. But the country club kids let us know our place in the pecking order within the walls of our educational sanctuary. Throughout elementary school, I was one of the smallest kids and was made fun of because of my crooked teeth. I was not popular, but in a class size of fifty students, everyone knew everyone. At that time in my life, I was not interested in learning. Honestly, reflecting on that time, I could barely read in the sixth grade. During the latter years of elementary school, I was energetic, extroverted, and developing a charismatic personality. Unknowingly, this persona was being created to compensate for the underlying insecurities that were growing inside me. These insecurities crystalized deeper in my soul as I entered junior high.

After going out for spring football in seventh grade, I began to belong to a team. Notably, everyone made the team. There were not enough players going out for football to cut anyone from the team. The next fall, in my eighth-grade year, I was sitting in the field house talking to my friend Bill. We were talking about the upcoming elections for eighth-grade class officers, and he said I should run for president. I laughed and thought he was nuts, but he insisted on it. For a few days, we discussed the topic over a Snickers bar and a Coke at the morning break area, and before I knew it, my name was on the ballot. Then before I knew what hit me, I was president of my class. No training, no skills, no knowledge of leadership, just bam, now I am a leader. At least, that is what everyone called me. They looked toward me to represent the class and get things done, but at best I couldn’t lead myself out of a wet paper sack. I couldn’t even use the correct words when I stood in front of the class to encourage them to precipitate (participate) in stuffing the homecoming float.

And then, the next year, the class voted for me to be the class president again. Why? I didn’t know what I was doing, but they didn’t care. My high school class voted me class president each year until graduation. I gave the commencement speech at our graduation. The speech wasn’t terrible, but it could have been so much better.

After high school, I attended a small regional university in the Mississippi Delta. Delta State University (DSU) is known for its mascot—a fighting okra, which was featured on a national late-night talk show. Not many people from my rural community of Holcomb, Mississippi, had a chance to go to college, but I did, and I had a grand plan. I told myself that I would go to college for three semesters. I would drink beer, have fun, and then come back and find a job somewhere around the town. No one in my family had attended a university, and my insecurities let me know it from the eighth grade. Being told I was first-generation college just enhanced it. But at DSU, most students were first generation—we just never talked about it. Being a first-generation college student was a collective insecurity. So, what did I do with these insecurities? Unknowingly, I suppressed them and started to overcompensate. I got involved in campus organizations because I was told I was a leader.

In college, I served in top leadership roles in the student government. I served in leadership roles in the student alumni association. I rose quickly in the ranks of the fraternity. I looked up, and I was a university orientation leader. My grades were adequate, but I filled all the hours with leadership activities and going out drinking beer. Remember, my college clock was only 18 months long. But after those 18 months, I realized I wanted to stay. My grades suffered badly in the fall semester of my sophomore year, and when I came home for Christmas, my parents told me to fix it or drop out. College was a privilege and not a cheap one. Right there and then, December of 1996, I had to get my act together. So, I did. I focused on my grades and pulled them up to a 4.0. I excelled at more leadership roles, still not knowing how to lead but getting things done. I was elected president of my fraternity, Pi Kappa Alpha, and I was hired as a paid intern for Wells Fargo, where I had to wear a suit to work every day. I was a leader! I would wake up at 8:00 a.m., put on a suit in my dorm room, go to business classes on campus, and drive an hour to my internship in Greenville, Mississippi, which paid $12 an hour in 1998. After work, I would drive back to the fraternity house and hang out and study. It was an enjoyable time in my life.

And with the work came the rewards. I received leadership awards. My fraternity recognized me as the top leader in the entire Delta Region, which consisted of thirteen universities, including top SEC schools. Awards are part of good leadership, and I liked getting awards. I liked winning. Today, my mom has all the awards on a wall in our cabin. Every time I see them, I am reminded of how ignorant a leader I was.

This act of getting it together didn’t stop after college graduation. With a degree in hand, I received an offer from Wells Fargo for a full-time job, and within 18 months they promoted me to branch manager and vice president because, as the regional director advised me during the promotion interview, I was a natural-born leader. I led that operation by the seat of my pants for six years, not knowing a real thing about leadership, but I learned a lot about finance. I even got a master’s degree at night studying management, and, by the way, management is not leadership.

I got married. I was making good money, but those eighth-grade insecurities didn’t stop yelling in my head. In fact, they were yelling louder. They had become a problem, and I did not have the tools to fix them. So, all I wanted to do was to shut them up.