Leaders who learn a new way to respond to the stress and strain of leadership can enhance their performance and enrich their experience.

For more than 30 years, Henry Mintzberg has been writing about management and management education with great passion, insight, and influence. His recent book, Managers Not MBAs, presents a stinging critique of business schools, indicting them for focusing on the wrong people--young adults with little experience--and for serving up the wrong fare--too much analysis and technique. (1) Having exposed the problems, Mintzberg presents a fascinating alternative to the MBA that targets practicing managers and uses their real-world experiences as the primary instructional material. Mintzberg's provocative ideas are aimed at a business audience, but, as the following small sample shows, they have much to offer those preparing educational leaders in the U.S. The essence of management. don't need heroes in positions of influence any more than technocrats. We need balanced, dedicated people who practice a style of managing that can be called 'engaging.' Such people believe that their purpose is to leave behind stronger organizations (p. 1). How leadership and management differ. Leadership is supposed to be something bigger, more important. I reject this distinction, simply because managers have to lead and leaders have to manage. Management without leadership is sterile; leadership without management is disconnected and encourages hubris (p. 6). What management is. Put together a good deal of craft with a certain amount of art and some science, and you end up with a job that is above all a practice. . . . After almost a century of trying, by any reasonable assessment management has become neither a science nor a profession (pp. 10, 11). Turning novices into managers. Trying to teach management to someone who has never managed is like trying to teach psychology to someone who has never met another human being. Organizations are complex phenomena. Managing them is a difficult, nuanced business, requiring all sorts of tacit understanding that can only be gained in context (p. 9). What management education needs. is not revolution or reorganization we need, at least for starters, so much as reconception . . . we need to rethink who we educate, how, and for what purpose; we need to rethink how and why we do research, and for whom; and we need to rethink how we are organized to do both. And then, if we are honest, we will have no choice but to change (p. 415). I recently had an opportunity to speak with Mintzberg about his approach to educating managers and how it could be applied to the preparation of school leaders. Murphy: What is an engaging style of management? Mintzberg: I mean that people are involved, they're personally engaged, they're not disconnected. As a result, they are able to engage others. Murphy: You write that management is a practice. What does that mean? Mintzberg: It means that it is mainly a craft. It's done on the ground. It means people know what's going on. It's not something you learn in school. You can't create managers in the classroom. You don't have to go to management school to be a manager. Murphy: If that's the case, what can universities contribute? Mintzberg: They can bring in people who are already in managerial positions and let them learn from their own experiences and from one another's experiences. …

During dinner party in an elegant Fifth-Avenue apartment overlooking Central Park, an investment banker asked me, Just how does it feel to be the dean of an Ed School? I was attending this party, along with the president of Harvard, to raise funds from select group of Wall Street wizards. My daunting task was to woo these potential donors with an after-dinner speech. The banker's surprising question came after we had hit it off, swapping stories over sauteed scallops. It feels great to be an Ed School dean, I replied. It's such wonderful Yes, the banker responded hesitantly while looking trifle sheepish, but it is such low-status job. Forging ahead, I smiled and prated on about the opportunity to make difference. To be sure, I was somewhat taken aback by my new friend's bluntness. But I was also moved by his awkward honesty, for he seemed to be candidly sharing with me his shattered stereotype - surprised that his tablemate could be both an Ed School dean and an interesting guy. Let's face it, schools of education are held in low regard in many circles, and not just among titans of finance dining on Fifth Avenue. As dean I was regularly reminded during fund-raising forays and even in meetings with colleagues from other parts of the university that schools of education were perceived to be part of the problem with our public schools, not part of the solution. This low regard, which runs deep and is increasingly widespread, undermines the credibility and influence of schools of education. (1) Do Ed Schools deserve these negative perceptions? No--and yes. As an unrepentant enthusiast of schools of education, I believe that many are lot better than their reputation and are inhabited by outstanding individuals who do important work. To convince critics of the worth of education schools, however, is challenge. I have learned that the most effective strategy is to avoid railing against deep-seated stereotypes and instead to keep an open mind, listen sincerely to the views of critics, and then invite them to meet with faculty members and students. If stereotypes breed contempt, familiarity can breed support, and rubbing elbows can lead to mutual respect. However, when it comes to programs that educate school administrators, the critics are mostly on target--and they have been for long time. (2) Unless this problem is faced squarely, I think these negative perceptions will metastasize, and, given the current climate, schools of education risk becoming progressively marginalized and deemed irrelevant. The granddaddy of high-profile complaints about administrator preparation programs is the withering attack made 19 years ago by the National Commission on Excellence in Educational Administration, which recommended that more than 60% of these programs be closed. (3) Since then, other observers have regularly chimed in with ever louder complaints. (4) For example, the Broad Foundation and Fordham Institute issued manifesto three years ago that pointed to a leadership famine amidst feast of 'certified' leaders and recommended giving up on schools of education and deregulating the field. (5) Exactly one year ago, in the latest high-decibel indictment, Arthur Levine contended that university based leadership programs range from to appalling. He described race to the bottom, with failures in admissions, curriculum, faculty, pedagogy, and more. Particularly chilling was the reported growth of university satellite operations with little regard for quality. (6) I agree with much of the latest indictment--and Levine deserves credit for reminding us yet again of this enduring problem. While number of programs are better than he suggests, (7) far too many are inadequate and, with the heightened pressures for high-status credentials and fast-track programs, may be getting worse. At the very least, schools of education are slow stepping elephants when it comes to leadership education--sluggishly adjusting to today's call for new blood, stronger content, more relevance, and higher quality. …

In this special section of the Kappan, 14 scholars and practitioners have taken a fresh look at the education of principals, superintendents, and other educational leaders, with a special focus on redesigning leadership programs at universities. These articles offer an exciting array of ideas for reforming leadership education as Ed Schools feel the pinch of recent critiques and new competitors. New ideas clearly matter, but will they be enough of a catalyst for change? Are Ed Schools open to fresh thinking? And do their denizens feel the sense of urgency typically required to propel organizational change? Frankly, I am not sanguine about widespread reform. I don't believe that the external pressure for change is sufficiently intense to force action, particularly in universities where the introduction of rigorous programs would mean fewer students and less money. These disincentives - combined with the absence of a public outcry for stronger leaders and of powerful constituencies pressing for quality--suggest that most Ed Schools will sit out the dance. They have done so before. Ed Schools resemble elephants--slow stepping and hard to budge. In the absence of overwhelming external pressure, is it possible to get these elephants to dance in new ways? (1) What will it take to rouse them to action? What might their new steps look like? What's at stake? I address these questions below and present a more optimistic viewpoint about the possibility of at least some Ed Schools instituting significant change. Even though the current ferment might not be enough to force action, I argue that an opportunity exists for forward-looking Ed Schools to overhaul their offerings and, more important, to address their declining influence. I suggest new ways to dance by offering a template for a leadership program that synthesizes some of the best thinking to be found in this special section and elsewhere. I certainly do not intend to present the way to prepare leaders--context always matters, and different programs are required for different stages in leaders' careers. I also recognize that some of the ideas presented here are controversial; they may fit some universities but be ill suited for others. I present a possible model in order to stimulate debate and encourage action, especially in those research-oriented universities that are inclined to self-examination and reform. Finally, I contend that substantial reform depends heavily on the organizational capacity of Ed Schools to learn their way to reform and, most of all, on their exercising leadership to make it all happen. WHAT'S AT STAKE? In my view, the current ferment in leadership education is symptomatic of a deeper and bigger problem that deserves serious attention: namely, the declining influence of many Ed Schools. they don't seize the moment, they risk becoming marginalized and irrelevant. Indeed, if these slow-stepping elephants fail to dance in new ways, they may just morph into dinosaurs. The decline in the influence of Ed Schools has its roots in three enduring difficulties that have recently become more troublesome. First, Ed Schools have long been burdened by low status within the academy,2 but things have gotten worse lately. As school reform continues to sputter and as frustration grows, Ed Schools are increasingly blamed for not making much of a dent. Fairly or not, critics now regularly ask, If Ed Schools are so good, why are the public schools so bad? Second, Ed Schools are very much isolated within the universities. Going it alone worked fine when public education was a back-burner issue, but school reform has become a hot topic on campus today, and faculty members across the university are engaged in the debate. Ignorant of the good work of many Ed Schools, it is easy for newcomers to blame them for the unsolved problems facing so many public schools. Lacking bonds of colleagueship, it's easy for collaborations that pursue new interdisciplinary approaches to fail. …

Starting a new job is inherently confusing, say Mr. Jentz and Mr. Murphy. Using an EntryPlan can transform that confusion into a resource for better decision making by enabling three kinds of timely learning: learning about your new workplace, learning about yourself, and collective learning about new ways of approaching vexing problems. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was the enthusiastic first choice of the search committee and was warmly welcomed by the staff. In fact, a lot of people acted as if I could walk on water. Everybody was open to change and so hopeful about the future. It looked like I had found my dream job, and I was really excited about getting a chance to implement my vision of instructional improvement. What a wonderful start to a honeymoon! But nine months later, everybody -- including me -- was disappointed. My brilliant vision was in the trash bin. Conflict had replaced consensus. Trust had disappeared. After such a promising start, all I heard were complaints about process. In the meantime, I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and bewildered. I just didn't know what to do. Honeymoon? My dream job had turned into a nightmare. Who among us isn't familiar with this story or at least a variation on it? Whether you are arriving to take up a new post or serving in the trenches when a new administrator takes charge, the moment of job entry always seems rich with the possibility for productive change -- and freighted with the heady fantasy that the Lone Ranger will ride into town and make everything better overnight. Of course, reality quickly sets in, and we are reminded once again that there are no silver bullets. Like many of you, we have seen this pattern of shattered dreams play out scores of times, and we, too, bear our own scars from mistakes made as administrators entering new jobs. The simple truth is that, all too often, new administrators start off on the wrong foot -- even fail. In fact, as demand for bold school leadership grows and as the rate of turnover in education jobs continues to rise, this problem seems to be getting even worse. However, we believe that there are practical, systematic methods to break this pattern and reap the rich rewards offered by a fresh start in a new position. In this article, we suggest that many new beginnings go awry because newly appointed administrators fail to address the confusion that is generated by the conflicting demands they face during entry. Disoriented, but under intense pressure to "do something -- and fast," these administrators buy into the conventional view that bold leaders hit the ground running. Feeling whipsawed, yet wanting to please, they reflexively hide their confusion and try to appear decisive by acting quickly. In so doing, they often sour their honeymoon. To avoid bad beginnings, we believe that new administrators must hit the ground learning, rather than running. Entry requires that they build relationships with stakeholders1 and develop a process for learning, rather than reflexively focusing on tasks. If one of these supports is missing, the transition will fail. In using this approach, the new administrator establishes authority not by prejudging what needs to be changed immediately, but by taking charge of the process -- by demonstrating a clear understanding of how to start. We call this approach an EntryPlan. Its essential activities consist of writing a plan and making it public, conducting systematic interviews and site visits with multiple stakeholders, and then working jointly with those stakeholders to make sense of the information as a prelude to making changes.2 These activities help new administrators withstand the pressure for premature change by forcing them to collect the necessary startup information as they build trust with their new colleagues. Properly executed, the EntryPlan methodology not only promotes learning about the new job situation but also forces new hires and their organizations to rethink their operating assumptions. …

Rapid change is making confusion a defining feature of management in the 21st century. Paradoxically, the authors argue, leaders who accept their confusion can turn a perceived weakness into a resource for learning and effective action. WHILE we didn't know it at the time, the seed for this article was planted some 20 years ago when Jerome Murphy became the new -- and often confused -- associate dean of the Harvard Graduate School of Education. Blindsided by unexpected problems and baffled by daunting institutional challenges, Murphy often lost his sense of direction and simply didn't know what to do. To make matters worse, he felt like a phony. "For God's sake," he said to himself, "isn't a Harvard dean supposed to have the answers?" Enter Barry Jentz, an organizational consultant who helped Murphy learn that confusion is not a weakness to be ashamed of but a regular and inevitable condition of leadership. By learning to embrace their confusion, managers are able to set in motion a constructive process for addressing baffling organizational issues. In fact, confusion turns out to be a fruitful environment in which the best managers thrive by using the instability around them to open up better lines of communication, test their old assumptions and values against changing realities, and develop more creative approaches to problem solving. The Lost Leader Syndrome The two of us were recently reminded of our early encounters with confusion when we had the opportunity to work on issues of leadership with a distinguished group of urban school superintendents. Given the challenge of getting to their present positions, all of these superintendents had long since mastered the skill of presenting a confident, take-charge demeanor. But after developing enough trust to talk frankly with one another, these seasoned superintendents admitted that they were often confused and sometimes simply didn't know what they were doing -- not that they could ever admit that in public. This candid discussion revealed a pattern of behavior that we have come to call the Lost Leader Syndrome. The standard pathology may look familiar. No matter how capable or well prepared, managers regularly find themselves confronting bewildering events, perplexing information, or baffling situations that steal their time and hijack their carefully planned agendas. Disoriented by developments that just don't make sense and by challenges that don't yield to easy solutions, these managers become confused -- sometimes even lost -- and don't know what to do. Many managers inevitably will respond to these symptoms by simply denying that they are confused. Others will hide their confusion -- their search for sense -- because they see it as a liability, telling themselves, "I'll lose authority if I acknowledge that I can't provide direction -- I'm supposed to know the answers!" Acting as if they are in control while really not knowing what to do, these managers reflexively and unilaterally attempt to impose quick fixes to restore their equilibrium. Sometimes, these managerial responses may even succeed in making the immediate symptoms of problems go away, but they rarely address underlying causes. More often, they lead to bad decision making, undermine crucial communication with colleagues and subordinates, and make managers seem distant and out of touch. In the long run, managers who hide their confusion also damage their organizations' ability to learn from experience and grow. Yet, despite these drawbacks, few managers can resist hiding their confusion. We have observed this dysfunctional pattern hundreds of times in the public, private, and nonprofit sectors -- in government agencies, corporations, universities, and foundations -- and believe that it is becoming more common as the pace of change accelerates. Our recent discussions with school superintendents suggest that this pattern of confusion and hiding or covering up is particularly prevalent in the pressure-cooker world of public education. …

Five hundred yards from the U.S. Capitol stands the new Hall of the States. An imposing white marble structure, it provides space for twenty-nine associations of state officials and the Washington office of thirty-three states. While seven of these organizations represent state education interests exclusively, a number unmatched by any other function of government, all of them are concerned with state education issues. This command post for lobbyists--the first centralized location for state delegations--reflects the states' deep concern about recent federal activities. It also symbolizes three important trends in the states during the past twenty years: the growing power and presence of state government in the federal system; the emergence of a new state polities that has spread influence among numerous groups (including the federal government); and the increasing importance of educational policy in state and federal affairs. These trends indicate a dramatic change in the focus and power of many state governments. Just twenty years ago, almost all the states were regarded, if noticed at all, as weak links within the governmental system. Now, many are much more professional and responsive, and would appear capable of dealing with important educational issues. 1 But even the more progressive states, the subject of this essay,