Good to Great in Educational Development

Brutal Facts and Honest Communication

The first aspect of the hedgehog concept is an honest appraisal of who we are and the situation we find ourselves in. These questions are what Collins calls the “Brutal Facts.” For example, I would guess that few educational developers have a permanent seat on their institution’s executive committee, few of our centers have an overabundance of personnel and money, and few of us have the institutional authority to mandate major policy changes. Beyond that, however, we all have our individual brutal facts to face. Data published in this journal, for example, revealed that 57.5% of the educational developers who responded to a recent survey worked in a center that had been integrated or combined with another support center. In total, 86.4% of the directors who worked in such a center reported that they oversaw more programs, 72.2% indicated that change had happened within the last five years, and 68.2% of them were managing more personnel (Kelley et al., 2017, pp. 1–8). It is imperative, as educational development leaders, that we understand and face our facts. It is also imperative that we discuss them openly and honestly with our staff and with the people we report to. Collins states that good to great companies established a culture of honest, truthful communication, wherein “people have a tremendous opportunity to be heard and, ultimately, for the truth to be heard” (2001, p. 88).

This type of communication requires disciplined leadership. Collins found (to my great relief) that high profile leaders with oversized egos and celebrity personae were rarely good to great leaders. Instead, the most effective leaders (which he described as “Level 5 Leaders”) were described as “self effacing, quiet, reserved, even shy… a paradoxical blend of personal humility and professional will” (2001, pp. 12–13). Level 5 leaders are ambitious but seek the success of the organization before themselves. They strive for excellence and may even be fanatically driven toward success, but in a context of humility combined with a strong work ethic. Level 5 leaders stress enduring results and are willing to make difficult short term decisions to reach long range goals. It is in this context that honest communication, in all directions, can occur. It is through these open discussions that purposeful action can be established. The good to great companies were compared to companies in the same industries that faced the same challenges, from deregulation to foreign competition to technological disruption. Often, the difference between a great company and a good company was how they faced adversity. It sounds cliché, but the good to great companies met adversity head on, acknowledged the challenges, and emerged stronger. They were able to do this because they could communicate honestly about the challenges they faced. These companies understood the brutal facts facing their industries, but they also had absolute faith that they would prevail in the end. This has been a beacon of hope for me as our state has faced across the board budget cuts, declining high school populations, and the ever present technological disruption that is impacting almost everything in higher education.

Best in the World at…

What can my CTL be the best in the world at? This is the area of Collins’ framework where my staff and I have had the most energized debates. Is it appropriate to even ask this question? Are we not all part of larger institutions, and is cooperation, rather than competition, not the fabric of what we do? After all, my goal is not to put other CTLs out of business! Collins responds as follows: “A Hedgehog Concept is not a goal to be the best, a strategy to be the best, an intention to be the best, a plan to be the best. It is an understanding of what you can be the best at” (2001, p. 98, emphasis original). In the end, therefore, this idea is not about competition but of understanding the unique nature of each of our centers. We occupy a special place within our institutions and serve faculty in unique ways. As my staff and I have debated this question, it has also led to certain realizations about what we cannot be the best at. That has led us to deeper insights about what our strengths truly are and has helped us determine where to strategically focus.

To understand what one can be best at demands intentional assessment of one’s effectiveness. This requires an emphasis on outcomes based measures of assessment rather than outputs based measures (Chen, Kelley, & Haggar, 2013; Kelley, 2014). Outputs would be the measure, for example, of how many faculty attended developmental workshops. While it may be important to track this number for other purposes, it does not prove that the workshops were actually effective. Outcomes based assessment attempts to ask the question “what impact are we truly making?” If faculty attend workshops, for example, is there evidence that teaching or learning improved as a result? It is fiendishly difficult to draw a direct line between what we do and specific, measurable changes in instructor or student behavior. Collins encourages us to look beyond that difficulty:

One element of our strategic planning process is the development of specific, measureable objectives that are related to key areas for which our center is responsible. The outcomes change from year to year as we shift our assessment focus, but the goal is always the same: to continue our growth toward excellence. The data provided through these measures allow us to energetically debate and develop new programs and policies (and eliminate ineffective ones) within the overall framework of our CTL’s vision and core principles. These objectives then constitute the bulk of our CTL Annual Report. I have repeatedly seen the value of having evidence to support my claims of effectiveness and a story to frame that evidence. Internally, it helps us define our areas of strength—and, just as important, areas where we should no longer invest time and resources.

Resources—The Economic Engine of the Social Sector

What drives our resource engine? Collins focused on industry and business in his Good to Great case studies, and the original framework for his hedgehog concept used the question “What drives your economic engine?” In other words, what makes you the greatest amount of profit? However, that question does not work well for the social sector. A food bank, for example, might strive for excellence but would probably want to measure its effectiveness in terms of human impact rather than on dollars and cents. In fact, food banks generally do not exist to make money but rather to use money for a greater good. In the larger sense, our institutions do compete with each other for students. CTLs themselves, however, are rarely revenue producing centers. We do not produce teaching and learning widgets and thingamajigs that can be counted as profit and loss—we serve faculty. Our “economic engine” is not tied to what we produce but rather to something less tangible. In fact, our competition is not typically external, but rather internal, in the sense that we must fight for resources amongst other areas within our own institutions. Collins recognized this fact, and four years after Good to Great, he published a follow up monograph titled Good to Great and the Social Sectors (2005).

The most crucial element that Collins changed was the concept of “economic engine.” He states: “In business, money is both an input (a resource for achieving greatness) and an output (a measure of greatness). In the social sectors, money is only an input, and not a measure of greatness” (2005, p. 5). In other words, the goal of most CTLs is not to make as much money as possible but rather to have the greatest impact with the money we are given. We operate under a “resource engine” rather than an economic one. Our resources include our budget, facilities, time, and personnel. What drives our resource engine is typically a combination of reputation, perceived need, and documented impact. A CTL that has established a reputation for excellence, fulfills a perceived need, and is able to document impact is less likely to have its resources assigned to another campus entity. The question of “what drives our resource engine,” therefore, becomes a vital element of the hedgehog concept. As educational development leaders, we have to understand the broader picture as to why our centers are funded and deserve to be funded in the future.

Passion

What are we passionate about? The last question of Collins’ hedgehog concept is one my staff most enjoys talking about. We are passionate about a lot of things, even when we limit the field of discussion to just educational development! But what are we most passionate about—to what can we devote fanatical adherence? Some folks are passionate about technology in the classroom, others about online learning, some are passionate about SoTL, others about assessment, and so on. The key is to triangulate that passion with the other elements of the hedgehog concept. If our passion is aligned with what we believe we can be best in the world at, and if it helps drive our resource engine, then it can produce powerful results. If our passion is not aligned within the hedgehog concept, however, we are unlikely to move from good to great. Passion is an important element of our strategic planning. The pursuit of programs or activities that we are not passionate about is self defeating. This is not to say that each of my staff members is passionate about everything we do (anyone up for more paperwork?) but rather that I place my staff in those areas that most closely align with what they are passionate about and that I hire staff who are passionate about the principles we have identified as our hedgehog concept.

The Hedgehog in Action: Strategic Planning

If you have a deep understanding about your brutal facts, what you can be best in the world at, what drives your resource engine, and what you are passionate about, you are ready to work on that crystalline idea that can be the One Thing for your center. Collins emphasizes that work is required. He found that the average good to great company took four years to figure out what its hedgehog concept would be. Developing such a concept is an iterative process, not something that can be determined in an afternoon workshop. It can also be a challenge in a world where we are often expected to “just take on one more responsibility.” Each summer, I host a strategic retreat for my staff. I find a room on campus outside of our “regular” haunts where we can get away from the office for two days. On the very first of these retreats, I introduced the elements of Good to Great to my staff, and we began debating what our hedgehog concept might be. During subsequent retreats, we have returned to this idea. We talk openly and honestly about our principles, how things have changed, and what new challenges and opportunities have developed. Currently, our hedgehog concept is that we “develop and support a community dedicated to excellent teaching and learning, regardless of location, formality, or modality.” We are passionate about each element of this concept; it is directly linked to how we receive resources, and we believe that developing community in a variety of educational situations is something at which we can excel. I am still not sure, however, that we have found the ultimate iteration of this concept—and perhaps that is part of its power. The struggle to define our core principle has been a vital activity for me and my staff. It has enabled us to (mostly) keep our CTL centered on the things that allow us to make the greatest impact. It is what Collins calls “Disciplined Action,” and it is what I aspire to in our strategic planning process.

Good to great institutions are able to combine a culture of discipline with an entrepreneurial spirit:

I have found the combination of responsibility and freedom to be particularly potent during our strategic planning process. We know that we have a responsibility to stay true to our hedgehog concept, and yet, within that boundary, just about any idea is fair game. We try to think about our processes and services from a number of different perspectives, including the following[2]:

1. Programs, Curriculum, and Workshops

2. Participation and Event Marketing

3. Budget and Finances

4. Facilities and Equipment

5. Personnel

6. Improving the Quality of Faculty Life

7. Community Outreach, Impact Beyond Campus

8. Evaluation, Assessment, and Planning

9. Image Enhancement, Fund Raising

In each of those areas, we try to maintain fanatical adherence to our hedgehog concept. For example, are we offering programs that build community? How might a new hire fit into our commitment to excellent teaching and learning? Is our budget used in support of our core principles? As Sorcinelli and colleagues put it, “By considering what should happen and what might happen, we can more thoughtfully decide on the most desirable future for faculty development and then work to achieve it” (2006, p. 129, italics original). Part of discipline is a recognition that if we are adding programs or processes, we must also choose to stop doing other programs and processes. Therefore, we also look at each of these areas and ask “what should we eliminate, scale down, defund, or just say no to?” It takes discipline to say “no” to opportunities, and yet, opportunities that lay outside of our hedgehog concept are simply distractors, no matter how auspicious they may be.