Blogger's Block Broken!
Treasured readers, I've been stuck. Call it late summer lethargy, call it the casualty of work and life demands, call it gasp bad blogging. The mental logjam broke over the weekend. It's good to be back. I had a most interesting conversation with some close friends about their childcare experience. Their infant son has been attending a center run by one of the national firms. The rates are at the high end of the spectrum, approaching twice the going rate for home-based child care. They were happy to pay those rates for the center's explicit brand promise: an excellent, developmentally-oriented experience. They were also willing to pay for the tacit assurance of standards, processes, and the resources to execute based on them. They will soon be serving notice of their departure, a few months after they arrived. It wasn't a disaster that led them to look elsewhere; it was an accumulation of more minor disappointments. The teachers gossiped about other infants and their families. The parents were irked when their 8 month old child was introduced to chicken nuggets and Clubhouse crackers at lunchtime, against their prior instructions. They objected loudly when staff told them (in the tone of a humorous anecdote rather than a contrite apology) that their child had been eating scraps from beneath other children's high chairs, "because he just kept going over there." It came as no surprise, then, when they observed that the student/teacher ratios were not in compliance, for more than just a few minutes, more than just a couple of times. Center management was made aware of the problems, and expressed neither surprise nor concern. It was time to go. The center in question is fully accredited, and touts its "highest possible ratings" in an impressive array of marketing materials. Its Parents' Handbook discusses a developmental curriculum and details the many ways that teachers communicate with parents. "It was like they were describing a different center altogether," scoffed our friend, the mom, on her way out the door. She acknowledged that the staff was basically friendly, and clearly cared about kids. They had the resources they needed. What went wrong? Our further conversation revealed the critical theme: nobody at the center was motivated to do more than what was required. They sought mediocrity, and appear to have achieved it, at least by charitable assessment. Teachers who came in excited about education and excellent care were taught instead to focus on process compliance. Managers didn't reward or seem to notice excellence, and they didn't seek to inspire creativity or commitment to great childcare. "The manager of my local Jiffy Lube does a far better job of inspiring his people," said the father. "I can see it in the time it takes to change my oil." That's a terrible shame. While enlightened mechanics will tell you that proper lubrication is essential for performance and long service life, they'll also admit that excellent child care is even more important to our collective future. As a parent, I have known great early childhood educators and great centers, and they make a huge difference for the families they serve. In fact, we published an Ethical Leaders in Action profile about one such center, AppleTree Connections, in 2008. Child care is demanding work. The pursuit of greatness must be continually fostered, even among talented and committed professionals. Leaders must cultivate and communicate a vision, and be engaged with staff on the realities of execution. Standards must be based on real values, which become a meaningful part of the organization. Employees must be valued and appreciated, rewarded for achieving high levels of performance. Ethical leadership isn't easy, in that setting or in any other. The rewards are apparent. So are the results of something less. Even if that center doesn't seem to care about greatness, the cost of a acquiring a new customer far exceeds the cost of maintaining an existing relationship. Economics aside, the greatest cost is the lost opportunity to truly make a difference in the world. Isn't that always the case? CAW

