My first foray as an adjunct professor was in front of a night class, populated by women who, after long detours often involving family, children, and other interruptions, were motivated by a desire to return to professional careers. To restart the re-entry process, they had enrolled in George Washington University’s “Publications Management” Certificate program, part of the school’s pioneering Continuing Education for Women Center.
They were in the classroom to accomplish one objective and one objective only; I think of them now as I read The New York Times story, “The Key to Success in College Is So Simple, It’s Almost Never Mentioned.” The author points to a factor,
“almost too obvious to mention but, in fact, deserves far more attention and discussion: a simple willingness to learn. In more than 20 years of college teaching, I have seen that students who are open to new knowledge will learn. Students who aren’t won’t.”
The mostly adult students were incredibly tough; they had devoted considerable tuition money to be in the room from 7:00 pm to 10:00 pm several nights a week, and unlike daytime students, many of whom were being subsidized by parents, they had no interest in simply taking up time and space. They demanded to be taught.
I loved those students. They impressed me so much I wrote about them.
I have another, similar memory, this one about my advertising-agency colleague Alison Fontaine Engel and how we worked through a presentation she was struggling to make better. Ten years have elapsed since I posted the story, but I recall Alison being very under the weather. As ill as she was – our Saturday phone conversation was punctuated by coughs and sneezes accompanied by a raspy sore throat – she easily could have bailed, with me prepared to bail her out.
Sick though she was, she did not, persevering through a long conversation, with me giving guidance on how to revisit and revamp what was a weak bunch of slides. Conversation complete, she went to work.
On Sunday Alison shared a revision; mission accomplished. It was infinitely better.
In my workshops it’s pretty easy to distinguish those who are taking time off and those who are not. Discounting for the moment legitimate client needs or colleague crises in need of attention, the former are distracted and inattentive, with little or no interest in learning; the latter ask questions and engage, hellbent on gaining knowledge.
Smart people know school doesn’t end with a degree. You want to get better at your craft? Read. If there’s a workshop, sit in.
Most importantly of all, don’t be shy. Seek people out. Ask questions. Ask some more questions. Get feedback, no matter how painful. Search for help when you hit an impasse, recognizing every day is an opportunity to improve.
The first chapter of The Art of Client Service is called “What Makes Great Client Service.” In five pages I do my best to define it. If I were writing the fourth edition, that chapter could be reduced to four words: a drive to learn.
It matters not where you work, with whom, or why; if these words describe you, it means you already know learning has no expiration date.