Lead Instead of Lament?

I thought a test finally found my tribe. The developers of the DISC pegged how people interact and sorted us into sixteen distinctive categories. Described as orderly, systematic, tactful, and highly diplomatic, I felt known. Told that I dislike sudden changes and prefer a protected secure environment free from antagonism that usually describes my self-contained work, I felt ready to, in my grandmother's memorable phrase, declare my rarity. I was also ready, unlike my ever adaptable grandmother, to declare my rights. I had evidence to support my grievance with the vicissitudes of the world.

One coworker who has shared my low-drama approach to our jobs for years provided good company in this new classification. But there were more. About half the room full of college enrollment professionals tended to have the same strengths and preferences, including my immediate supervisor. Who would be left to protect my prerogatives, to stand in the gap for my specialness?

I should have known that college administrators are a self-selected sample. We are not, as a whole, known for decisiveness and comfort with conflict and risk-taking. As a rule, we are more ready to keep options open than narrow them. At some level we hope for a legacy of keeping everyone happy.  If we can't bequeath happiness in every outcome, then at least we would have those fortunate enough to encounter us happier in the perpetual consolation of thinking improved because we fulfilled our calling. Genuinely decisive, risk-taking, Sixties radical Tom Hayden said according to Nixonland negotiating with college administrators during that tumultuous time was like being beaten to death with a warm sponge. My hope that someone else on academe's mountain will make the decisions for me and provide perpetually clear priorities defies history.

To borrow a phrase from Randy Pausch in The Last Lecture when he was told he was the best speaker in the chemistry department, I just might be the tallest of the seven dwarfs. My discernment can develop as I see a need for it, unlike the fixed diminutive stature of Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc. My increasing awareness that others are blessed when decisions are solidly made and clearly communicated might allow me to mature in this area. I might at last break through the excuse cocoon that humility is entirely characterized by the stagnant comfort of critiquing leadership from the outside. According to the memorable John Hirschi article in The New Yorker's anthology of the 1940s, Lieut. John Kennedy readily admitted to his men that there was nothing in the officer's book about making a decision while officer and crew are floating on pieces of a destroyed boat in enemy territory. As he sought to build consensus not based on his rank, Kennedy also came to understand that his men NEEDED him to lead. They told him so.

Perhaps, as Jesus instructs us in Luke 14:10 not to take the prime spot in life's banquet but to wait to be asked to a more prominent position, the asking may come in perceiving the need and the opportunity to lead. Our "competition" isn't perfect. Others on whom we would rather foist leadership responsibility may not want it. We would do well to be aware of mixed motives within ourselves, but these divided loyalties are common to man and to all ages. When decisions need to be made, and we are increasingly aware of the cost of not making them, Ralph Waldo Emerson may goad us to action with his own hard words in Self-Reliance. He insists, "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. Speak what you think now in hard words, and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks." Those around us may be more open to influence, even more grateful, than our protective predictions allow.