I
must say, the first readings of my Roberts Fellows experience left me with a
feeling opposite of what I was expecting. I found them interesting, thought
provoking and intelligent. But I wasn’t excited for the learning experience
when I was finished. I was frustrated, confused and questioning.
It
started with Northouse. Specifically, the section on management and leadership:
how managers and leaders are separate classifications of people.
My
career focus is stage management – the job focused on organization, staffing,
and planning. According to Northouse, I basically keep the ball rolling.
According to Northouse, this is not leadership, as leadership is based on
dynamics and creativity. I
understand where Northouse is coming from, of course. My role on a production
is not to create a vision and push it forward. Rather, I am present from start to
finish, keeping it on track and supporting those who are actually leading it –
i.e., the director. But it hurt to take a step down in title. I want to be a leader.
Immediately
after reading this section, I shut myself off from the text – I wanted to find
a way to prove the text wrong. How could I not be classified as a leader? My
production teams look to me for stability in the chaos before the show opens. I
am a beacon, available to help and guide wherever possible.
I
stopped reading and started fighting. I fought with the only weapon I knew – my
resume. I was granted membership as a Roberts Fellow. I am the president of
Through Line Theatre Ensemble – elected in a time of need when either the
organization crumbled or someone saved it. I am the organizer of the executive
board members of all the theatre organizations. And I am a mentor to the
incoming theatre students. One of the new students pulled me aside at dinner
the other night to ask me how, if I had only been at Saginaw Valley for two
years, I had come to be in charge of so many things and in touch with so many people.
My resume seemed to speak for itself.
The
speech, Solitude and Leadership, was
not much of a consolation.
As
Deresiewicz talked, my confidence droped. As he described bureaucracy that
students participate in – the fight to pad their resumes and become the “yes men”
of today’s society – I began to fit myself in to this description. He talked of
extreme extra curriculum; of playing the game. And he talked of the empty
people that this lifestyle creates – the sheep who graduate from Yale and
become the CEOs of companies. And I began to worry. This is one of my greatest fears.
I can feel myself drowning in all of my responsibilities, giving my all to
none. Looking back at my argument – my resume, packed with things that simply “look
good” – and I see exactly what Deresiewicz warned against.
I
could go on forever about the things I used to do, that I enjoy but gave up in
order to put everything I have in to school and theatre. Even in my interview
for the Roberts Fellowship, I couldn’t come up with a hobby outside of theatre.
It is one of my greatest flaws. I am a work-aholic. I make too many commitments
and fill my time with responsibilities and jobs – and I leave nothing for
myself. I leave no time to do the things that make me “me,” or branch out in to
other areas. I leave no time for solitude – to think, reflect or learn. What if
I am empty already?
I
don’t want to do things because they are expected of me. I don’t want to say
yes because it will make my peers and superiors happy. I don’t want to take on
responsibilities simply because they look good on my resume. But I fear that
this is the mindset in to which I have fallen. As we discussed in class today, it
is not that we shouldn’t “jump through hoops,” or that we shouldn’t strive for
success and achievement. The argument is that we should do these things with a
clear head and a clear purpose. We should understand for ourselves why we are
on the path we have chosen – and be confident that we have chosen it at all.
When we lose sight of our goals, intentions and dreams, we lose sight of who we
are; we lose sight of the passion that makes us leaders – and we become empty.
Although
I do not feel that I have completely
lost myself in all of my commitments and self-expectations, I cannot shake the
fear that something in me will have to change if I am to embrace true
leadership potential. I am not sure how this leadership potential balances with
my career as manager. But I am sure that the answer will come.
These
readings, though short in length, were deep in meaning, and left me
questioning. They left me open to the lessons into which we will delve. They
left me ready to learn and understand – ready to grow and change. But most of
all – they left me ready to figure out why I am here, why I am doing what I am
doing, and what is yet to come.
