The Capacity To Learn
WHAT MOST WORKPLACE EDUCATION GETS WRONG
WHAT’S THE GOAL OF EDUCATION?
Every so often, I see posts on social media that lament the curricular focus of our educational system. These posts (like this one) suggest that our schools have failed us because we were taught how to play “Hot Cross Buns” on a plastic recorder, and not how to file a tax return or get health insurance.
I understand the logic of this argument: being able to file taxes or sign up for health insurance seems to be far more useful than being able to play a plastic recorder. Unless it’s your dream to become the “Kenny G” of the recorder (and if it is, awesome), you’ll probably be better off learning how to file your taxes and get health insurance, right?
The problem with this line of thinking is that it endorses a very narrow imagination of education, where the only goal is to prepare people to complete predictable tasks. The point of learning how to play “Hot Cross Buns” was not about preparing you for the situations in life where you will need to play “Hot Cross Buns” on a recorder. It was about developing the capacity to learn: practicing something unfamiliar, tolerating frustration, recognizing patterns, receiving feedback, and gradually improving.
The best educational systems teach people both the skills to complete tasks and the capacity to learn and solve new problems.
DIVERSITY, EQUITY, & INCLUSION EDUCATION IN THE WORKPLACE
All too often, our workplaces mirror this exclusively skills-based approach to learning. We teach welders how to weld. We teach bakers how to bake. But when do we create spaces for employees to deepen their capacity to think, reflect, question, and learn?
To be clear, welders need to know how to weld, and bakers need to know how to bake—but the skills of running a high-functioning team go far beyond being able to complete one’s immediate work tasks. This distinction becomes especially important when the subject cannot be reduced to a predictable set of steps: like leadership, culture, identity, or power.
I have spent my entire career in educational environments focused on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), and I know far too many DEI practitioners who take a similar cookie-cutter approach to the work. I’ll be honest, I hate it.
Businesses sign up for learning modules about microaggressions, implicit bias, and privilege, and then wonder why the hearts and minds of their employees have not been moved. It’s because the work lacks imagination and soul—and because there was little work done to foster the capacity for these conversations in the first place. Definitions and frameworks can give us useful shared language, but shared language is only part of the work. The learning module may have effectively communicated the correct definition of these terms, but if the space for complex conversations about identity had not been cultivated, it was likely a colossal waste of time (and money).
TEACHING INCLUSIVE LEADERSHIP
Just like knowing how to weld or bake is not a skill one is born with, knowing how to lead inclusively is also not a skill anyone is born with—it has to be cultivated. But treating this work like a software download cheapens the work. In other words, if you think you’ll cultivate an inclusive workplace just because people can recite definitions of key terms, you’re going to be disappointed.
The point of good diversity, equity, and inclusion work is not to prepare people to recite a definition of what a “microaggression” is—but so many programs are designed as if this is the goal. This work has to be designed in a way that helps people cultivate the capacity to look inward, navigate complexity, think creatively, reconsider beliefs, and sit with the lived experience of others. These capacities are not developed through information alone. They emerge through sustained reflection, honest dialogue, meaningful relationships, thoughtful practice, and the opportunity to remain with questions that do not have simple answers.
Before I created the Inclusive Excellence Leadership Program, I received advice from a colleague. They said: “I’m not sure what this will look like for you, but if you create a program like this, make it different.” My team and I have taken this to heart, and we’ve worked to create a program that goes so much deeper than helping people memorize key terms and concepts.
If you want to develop the capacity to work across differences, you have to practice these skills in community. You wouldn’t try to learn to make pottery just by listening to a podcast. Similarly, you wouldn’t expect to learn how to swim by watching a training video… you have to get in the water. Similarly, if you want to become a more inclusive leader, you have to be in relationship with others.
If you want to learn definitions and key concepts, skip this program. But if you’re willing to dive into the complexity of identity and power, how they shape interpersonal relationships, and actually do the work to dissect the makings of inclusive workplaces, we’d love to have you join us.
LEADING FROM FEAR
At its core, our work around inclusive leadership is aimed at equipping leaders with the ability to engage in hard conversations with a deep well of empathy and understanding—not perfection. I’ve seen too many leaders become overcome with fear at the prospect of even touching conversations around diversity and inclusion. I understand this fear. This is complex work, and when life already feels full of complexity, why add more?
But there’s a cost to not being able to have hard conversations, and there’s a cost to not being able to navigate what scares us. A leader with this capacity may not enter every difficult conversation knowing exactly what to say, but they can remain curious, listen without becoming defensive, acknowledge harm, and help a team find a way forward.
Great skills training prepares us to complete known tasks. Great education prepares us to encounter what we do not yet know.
Bonus Link: If you’ve read this far, I want to reward you with this great clip of Kenny G & Warren G performing “Regulate” together. It’s a personal favorite.
