As I have grown older, I’m amazed at the insights that pop up into my head. These thoughts slip into my consciousness, as if they are sap dripping from a spigot plugged into a maple tree. Not a torrent of wisdom, but a trickle that tickles as it goes old memories.

While I often miss them, I try to write them down on paper or type them up on my phone before the magic slips away. This evening, I was reflecting on something that happened when I worked in a smaller school district. It’s probably safe to share the story now, as I’ve moved on from my work there as have the other folks in the story.

There are various morals that can be taken from a story like this. As I get older, I realize that my disappointment with how things turned out flowed from my sense of false expectations for how people interact with each other.

The Story

He (let’s call him Jerry) was one year away from retirement. Jerry was in charge of the asset management system for the District. He was supposed to be putting all the district’s asset management data into the system he had purchased for the past two years.

When I had started in the District, Jerry had been the confident leader of the adoption of an asset management system. I am happy to recall that I opposed the adoption of the system the District ended up going with. Having worked in larger school districts, I knew you often get what you pay for. Better a solid product than a piece of garbage. As it turned out, I was right.

All along, when I asked about the asset management data import into the new system, Jerry would put me off. By this time, I had created an alternative asset management tracking system using Google Sheets (who knew ImportRange was so awesome…I did after setting up a multi-year district asset tracking system for all new technology), so I wasn’t feeling that sense of urgency. But the rest of the District was.

You see, I had a secret suspicion Jerry hadn’t done anything. So, with the approval of my supervisor (Asst. Super), I set up a meeting with him to go over the details. “Maybe the Tech Dept can help get this done faster?” I suggested. You see, Jerry was due to retire in a few short months. He had put us off on this asset management system for two years.

As we went through what had been done, Jerry couldn’t hide the facts anymore. He hadn’t done anything. Worse, he had lied about it. Even worse than that, there was nothing anyone could do at this late date. The data itself was corrupted from his efforts and he was relying on paper inventory tracking forms. When Jerry came clean, I couldn’t understand why he had hid the facts. He had hoped to retire before anyone found out.

Jerry had an office with a window at Central Office, down the hall from the Superintendent and Assistant Superintendents. He was hoping to make it to retirement before anyone found out what was going on. When I presented my findings to the Assistant Superintendent we both reported to, he couldn’t believe it. Nothing happened to Jerry that I know of. He  retired on schedule and the problem was passed onto someone else.

Who?

They basically gave everything he supervised to a “failed” principal (I’m not surprised principals fail in today’s public schools…they are trained to be marionettes). The principal was married to someone in Central Office and grown up in the district. He was “promoted” from principal into a Director level position in charge of maintenance and asset management. It was quite an education for me of how small districts that have Central Office relatives work. He had no idea what he was doing either but he came by his ignorance quite honestly.

Fortunately, the Tech Dept was put in charge of facilitating launch of the asset management system (e.g. RFP, etc) then turned over to the new Director. Jerry went onto retirement.

Moral of the Story

You just can’t make this stuff up. People don’t keep their jobs because they’re efficient, effective, productive. They more often keep them because of who they know, who they’re married to, or beholden to and owe people (so that other’s have a hold over them). It’s the truth they don’t teach you in grade school, or in leadership books. Which is why I threw all my books out a few years ago (before this incident).

I’m grateful that I’ve had the chance to do my best and own my mistakes. In fact, on my portfolio website, I started a page where I’ve tried to write down where I messed up. My blog entry tomorrow will feature a few of those bits of wisdom.