The groundskeeper of Boise State

The campus of Boise State University is spectacular this time of year. Spring has definitely arrived. Shrubs, trees and flowers bursting with vibrant, vivid and bold colors—every hue of the rainbow—are displayed against a carpet of green, surrounded by mountains and contrasted with skies so blue, you think you’re in heaven. As finals week approaches and crescendos into commencement and the promise of a bright and fresh tomorrow, faculty and students bustle from here to there, crowding the Quad and every nook and cranny of the campus. The advent of spring brings a sense of renewal and a multitude of possibilities and new beginnings.

Last week, as I was walking across campus, I noticed a groundskeeper busy at work—weeding, preparing the earth and planting flowers. His head was bowed as his strong and weathered hands dug and scooped the soil. I stopped to admire his work and thank him for making the campus such a beautiful and welcoming place. I told him how happy the grounds make me—and so many others—feel.

I was quite moved by his response. Instead of a simple thank you, he stood to his full height and, with a quiet dignity in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes, explained that he enjoyed his work; that adding to the beauty of campus life was important to him and gave him a sense of pride. I was reminded of one of my favorite quotes by Martin Luther King Jr., who said, “If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”

The groundskeeper of Boise State

Like the street sweeper referred to by King, the campus groundskeeper of Boise State is doing his job well. Not only does he find dignity in his work, he brings dignity to his work. He reveals a deep level of self-respect and a sense of accomplishment. His attitude inspires me and makes me want to do better, to leave a footprint of which I can be proud and a legacy of making a difference—to bring my “A” game to each encounter and situation.

To bring dignity to our work, we need to develop daily habits. I try to greet each person I meet with a smile, to be grateful for my blessings, to do something meaningful and to stand for something good. What are your daily habits? What footprint do you wish to leave? What will others say about you—about me—when all is said and done? Will you—will I—be remembered as someone who left an indelible mark and brought dignity to your—to my—work? This is our challenge.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Filling the reservoir of good will

In my previous blog, I introduced you to my mother-in-law, Margaret—a beautiful, spiritual and soon-to-be nonagenarian. She has long been a role model for me and so many other people whose lives she’s touched. Exceptionally reflective, Margaret lives by certain principles that shape her life and interactions with others. I try to follow her example by living by my own deeply held principles, including those that guide my professional life.

For example, my professional mission includes being an outspoken and ardent leader in creating and sustaining communities of civility and inspiring healthy workplaces and relationships. My goals are to raise awareness of the existence and consequences of incivility, to amplify the national dialogue on fostering civil work and learning environments, and to be an ambassador for lasting change. I also believe in the principle of filling the reservoir of goodwill as close to the brim as possible so that, when we need to draw from that reservoir, we have an abundant supply.

As a young undergraduate student, I was a very hard worker, attended all my classes and always turned my assignments in on time. I spoke up in class, added value to discussions and made an effort to get to know my professors. I did this because I loved learning, had made a substantial investment in my education and because I was the mother of a very young son who needed me to achieve so I could “be there” for him in every sense of the word. It was high stakes for me, and I knew that having an education would provide unimaginable opportunities.

During finals week and just before I was to graduate with my bachelor’s degree, my son became gravely ill. Diagnosed with a life-threatening condition that required extended hospitalization, his life hung in the balance. Freaking out on every level, I wondered how I would take my final exams—much less pass them. I had gambled everything on achieving my degree, and I was scared. All of this occurred before cell phones, e-mail and the other immediate ways students now have to contact professors.

So, in between the times that my husband and I sat vigil at my son’s bedside, I sought out my professors and tried to explain my situation to them. And guess what? They listened and, without exception, responded with understanding. Apparently, I had filled the reservoir of goodwill full enough that each and every one of my professors said that whatever grade I had achieved at the point of my son’s illness was the one I would receive as a final grade. All declared that I did not need to take the final exam, as I had proven myself to be an exceptional student. What a relief!

Today, I remember that experience with gratitude and appreciation, and I pay it forward. When my colleagues and students fill the reservoir of goodwill, I respond and give them the benefit of the doubt. That’s what it’s all about.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

What can you learn from a mother-in-law?

My mother-in-law, Margaret, will celebrate her 90th birthday this summer. I have had the honor and joy of knowing Margaret for the past 31 years, after meeting and marrying her youngest son. Margaret is an amazing woman, role model and inspiration.

Each day, she rises and greets the morning by walking several miles through the Colorado mountains with Zoe, the family's beloved Labrador retriever, then returns home to enjoy a hearty breakfast, engage in an hour of yoga and meditation, and later rides her stationary bike to stay in shape for hiking and climbing nearby hilltops. Margaret spends several weeks a year in Boise visiting our family, and one of my favorite things to do is to walk with her and our dogs along the many miles of hiking trails in the high deserts of Idaho.

Margaret, age 89, prepares for another day.

Her pace is brisk, deliberate and certain. Her energy level is beyond comprehension-for anyone, but especially for a woman of such advanced age. As we hike the rolling hills outside our country home, surrounded by mountain ranges, we are delighted by the myriad birds and wildlife that accompany us.

The high desert of Idaho

Margaret was born in southern Virginia on a tobacco farm. Her family was very poor by monetary standards, but rich in love, family and community. As she ran barefoot through the fertile soil of Virginia during her childhood and adolescence, she became forever bonded to the earth-and has remained connected to the earth throughout her long and active life.

Margaret is also a thoughtful, wise and deeply reflective person. We have spent countless hours walking and talking-sharing our innermost thoughts about life, family and our mutual love of the earth. An avid journalist, she handwrites all of her journal entries and has neatly maintained them in notebooks over the past several decades. She often shares her philosophies with me-including her “tenets for life”- principles by which she lives her life. I would like to share some of them with my readers as a source of inspiration and as a catalyst for intentional living.

First, Margaret suggests that “spend time in quietness” to listen to the voices of our soul and to stay in tune with nature; that the energy of the universe is available to all of us, especially if we integrate life's processes and experiences from birth to the end of life. Margaret's life partner, soul mate and husband of nearly 60 years died in 2010 after losing his hard-fought battle with brain cancer. Ed was a brilliant and gifted college professor, environmentalist and author. He died peacefully amidst the mountains of Colorado, administered to and cared for by Margaret, who was always at his side. His life ended quietly, gently and without pain as the two said their final goodbyes.

Since Ed's death, Margaret has helped many of us realize that “we can experience joy to the same degree we experience sorrow,” paraphrasing her favorite poet, Kahlil Gibran, who reminds us that “sorrow expands our ability to experience joy,” that being fully present and having a life philosophy to guide us is all-important.

Both of us admire the simple wisdom of Yvon Chouinard, founder and owner of Patagonia, Inc., who describes a process to reduce harm to the environment and ways for each of us to make a difference. One of Chouinard's philosophies is “Lead an examined life.” He suggests that we often cause harm as a result of ignorance and a willful avoidance to learn, because we don't want to act on what we know.

I spoke about this concept in my previous post, “Knowing better and doing better in uncertain and uncivil times,” Only after we make a conscious effort to seek the truth, to ask questions and become aware are we able to move to action. Another Patagonia philosophy is “Support civil democracy,” reminding us that organizations large and small, as well as individuals who deeply care about an issue, can make an incredible and important difference. Small groups of dedicated and passionate people can make extraordinary changes.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Knowing better and doing better in uncertain and uncivil times

I recently completed a national study on faculty perceptions of faculty-to-faculty incivility in nursing education and was struck by the extent to which faculty perceive this to be a serious problem. It is a sad commentary on the state of affairs in our daily work lives and a phenomenon that requires attention, because lack of civility can cause stress, emotional pain, physical complaints and spiritual distress. The effects of uncivil encounters can be devastating and long-lasting.

Several faculty members wrote stories for my study about the perceived “in groups” and “out groups” of nursing faculty teams (I use the word “team” lightly.) One participant wrote: “We have a faculty member who takes pleasure in targeting new faculty by sabotaging their ability to do their job. She went so far as to completely erase the contents of an online-learning course, so the new faculty taking it over had to start from scratch. The new faculty member was very busy learning the ropes of academe and orienting to the faculty role. She was told by the seasoned faculty member that, since she [the senior faculty member] originally developed the class, she [the new faculty member] could get busy and do the same thing.”

Another participant described interactions during faculty meetings: “One of the senior faculty members routinely cuts others off or talks over the less-senior members she appears to be targeting. She is openly condescending and rude, speaks ill of other faculty members when they are not present and is openly antagonistic to the person she is targeting. At times, the environment is quite tense, yet no one confronts the behavior. At this juncture, I am still in a probationary period and fear that trying to address it could jeopardize the position that I have worked so hard to obtain.” Other participants described experiences with ageism, sexism, racism and being “treated like a second-class citizen” because their academic degrees were in a field other than nursing.

Though these stories vary in content, they possess common features. All of the uncivil encounters resulted in an affront to human dignity and an assault on the person’s intrinsic sense of self-worth. Many believed that directly addressing the situation may be the best approach, though most feared that doing so could result in retaliation, reprisal and lack of administrative support. Others felt ill-equipped to deal with incivility and requested information about specific measures to deal with the problem, including implementing clear policies and procedures, ongoing faculty development and “civility” education, and elimination of power-based hierarchies that perpetuate “in groups” and “out groups” in nursing education. Many suggested the need for taking steps to improve relationship building, including positive mentoring, faculty collaborations, celebrating faculty accomplishments and promoting faculty achievements.

As I was reading some of these faculty accounts, I was reminded of one of my favorite quotes by Maya Angelou, who writes, “We do the best we can with what we know, and when we know better, we do better.” While I appreciate Dr. Angelou’s wisdom, I wonder sometimes if it’s true. Do we really do better when we know better, or is it wishful thinking? I choose to believe it’s true because, given what we are learning about faculty incivility, we must do better.

I am constantly amazed to learn that some faculty members are unaware of how their behaviors affect others. We must make civility a priority, therefore, and raise awareness about the myriad consequences of incivility. With the current nursing faculty shortage, we can ill afford to lose qualified educators. So what shall we do?

If you are experiencing incivility, carefully consider the nature of your situation, especially if you are part of the “out group.” Power differentials can be real or perceived and, in either case, can take a devastating toll on your emotional and physical health. So, take steps to improve your self-care and engage in stress-reducing activities. Surround yourself with positive people, and bask in the light of those you love and those who love you back.

I was recently chatting with a colleague in a non-nursing academic discipline who was experiencing relentless workplace incivility. I asked him how he dealt with the negativity. He smiled and said, “I conjure up a vision of my wife and children and my beloved family dog, and I feel immediate relief.” The conversation reminded me of one way I cope with stressful work situations. I have a number of greeting cards that I have received from family and friends over the years. I keep some of my favorite cards on my desk and select certain ones to cheer me up when needed. At present, I have a delightful valentine from my husband propped up on my desk. It features two adorable yellow labs wrapped up with each other, sheer love and joy written all over their faces. As silly as it sounds, it works for me. The picture takes me to a “happy place’ where I feel safe and wanted and stress free for just a little while.

I realize that more active measures are needed, so I highly suggest and urge all nursing programs to co-create and implement behavioral norms. As Ken Blanchard reminds us, “A river without banks is a pond.” Similarly, I believe an organization without norms is a rudderless ship. Without functional norms, desired behavior is ill defined and, thus, faculty and staff are left to “make things up as they go along.”

To co-create norms, dedicate sufficient time to ask all members of the faculty (and staff) to brainstorm behaviors that lead to effective team functioning and contribute to a healthy work environment. Avoid critiquing the suggestions—let the ideas flow. Some common examples of norms include how each team member will communicate, resolve conflicts and conduct themselves in meetings. Then brainstorm behaviors that do not lead to effective team functioning.

Once the norms are determined, discuss how each team member will “live” the norms and what will happen if the norms are violated. When faculty and staff co-create norms together, they are more likely to approve of and conform to these behaviors. Once the norms are agreed upon, they become the standard for faculty and staff interactions. To keep them dynamic, they will need to be reviewed, revisited and revised on a regular basis.

Fostering civility in nursing programs, or any program for that matter, is difficult, if not impossible, to achieve in the absence of skilled, ethical leadership. Leaders who hold formal positions as well as those without a formal title or authority, but who have significant influence throughout the organization, are called upon to effect and sustain civil, respectful workplaces. In addition to taking action to raise awareness, leaders must discuss acceptable and unacceptable behaviors, as well as model and practice civil interactions. It is also important to reward civility and collegiality, thereby reinforcing efforts to build positive relationships between and among all members of the nursing education community.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

The power and rewards of assuming goodwill

Each year I make two New Year’s resolutions—one personal and one professional. This year, I have thought deeply and purposefully about the resolutions that will frame my thinking and behaviors over the next 12 months. I try to keep my resolutions simple and clear so that I don’t lose focus. They become, in effect, my annual vision statements—a one- or two-sentence “elevator speech” that I can easily recite in a short phrase. For example, this year, my personal resolution is to “assume goodwill.” This is not a new resolution for me; in fact, it is the No. 1 working norm for our school of nursing. This norm or “principle” has served me well over the years, and I know it will help me bring my “A game” to 2012 as well.

I’d like to share a story about the power and rewards of assuming goodwill. A couple of semesters ago, in one of my nursing courses, I had a student who routinely arrived late for class. This behavior was not only mildly annoying and a bit disruptive, but his late arrival was a violation of the classroom norms we had established and agreed upon the first day of class. When the student’s tardiness started to become a pattern, I decided to address the behavior. During a break, I asked him to join me for a private conversation, and he agreed.

When we were alone, I said, “I’ve noticed that you are having difficulty getting to class on timeand I’m wondering why. What’s up?” The student paused for a moment, looked at the floor, then slowly lifted his gaze to look me in the eye.

“Yes, I know. I have been making every effort to arrive on time but, you see, I am a single parent and the sole provider for my three small children. I do not have family around or anyone else to rely on for help. So, I get the children up, make breakfast, get them off to school and race to get to class on time. Please forgive me, but their mother left us a year ago, and I am still trying to get on top of things.”

You can imagine how this disclosure affected me. I was touched by the story, concluded that the student was doing his best and expressed my appreciation to him for doing so.

I started that conversation with an assumption of goodwill, and I’m glad I did, given the student’s family situation. It reinforced for me the power of giving people the benefit of the doubt and believing that each of us tries very hard to do our best under challenging circumstances. Of course, I realize that this is not always the case, but I learned long ago that assuming the best of others goes further and takes less energy than assuming the worst.

This guiding principle of assuming goodwill is a positive way of living life. Earlier this month, I presented a civility workshop to a large group of faculty members representing a variety of academic disciplines. During the workshop, I suggested that assuming goodwill is a powerful way to allay stress and to build and sustain relationships. As I was leaving, I was approached by a faculty member who teaches diesel mechanics.

“Dr. Clark, today was the second time I’ve heard you speak on civility and the power of assuming goodwill,” he said. “I have been married for 30 years and, after your first workshop, I decided to assume goodwill with my wife. I used to think she had a hidden agenda, but once I assumed goodwill, I realized she really doesn’t have a hidden agenda—just a different point of view. And sometimes, her point of view makes a heck of a lot of sense.”

Ah, so there it is again—the strength and force of assuming goodwill! So energizing, empowering, and liberating. It’s not always easy to do but, when we assume the best of others, it reframes our cognitive focus and presents an opportunity for enlightenment. Wish me well as I make a concerted effort to assume goodwill in 2012—and I wish you the same!

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Mothers, memories and matters of the heart

Christmas 2011 is in the books, and a new year awaits us, full of promise and possibilities. The season of celebration brings joy and merriment, as well as the comfort and companionship of family and friends although, for many of us, there are people whose absence is keenly felt.

My mother died 14 years ago, and 15 holiday seasons have come and gone since her unexpected passing. A victim of a tragic accident, she left us far too soon. Suddenly, my five siblings and I were motherless, our worlds whirling with so many emotions and wondering how to navigate them without her.

When I learned of my mother’s accident, I was living in Boise, and I immediately booked a flight to Chicago to be with her and the rest of my family. After packing for the trip and making travel arrangements, I decided to go for a run, as exercise has always been my primary coping strategy. I was wracked with grief, and waiting for my flight was making me crazy, so I dealt with my mounting anxiety in the best way I knew how—to run. After strapping on my running shoes, I grabbed my headphones and charged out the door with my running companion, our beloved yellow Lab, Mack. But something strange happened very quickly.

Mack and I were only a block or two from home when I found myself unable to breathe. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t get a deep breath, much less run for miles. My profound worry and sadness were manifested in my respiratory system, so I walked home to begin my life as a member of a sisterhood to which none of us wish to belong—children of lost parents. Later that day, when I arrived at Mother’s bedside, she was clinging to life, attached to life-support and surrounded by people who loved her. Her death was imminent. The stunning and breath-taking pain of losing her would become a familiar companion for all who loved this dear woman.

My mother taught me many important life lessons, chief among them the power and generosity of extending unconditional love. She loved all of us—and everybody—seeing and extolling the goodness in each person. She taught us loyalty, to love deeply and to share whatever we had with others.

We grew up in a middle-class home, a large Irish Catholic family where Dad’s paycheck needed to stretch pretty far. Yet, we always made room at the table for anyone who happened to be in our home at mealtime. My mother was a pro at stretching a dollar as well as a meal. At Christmastime, our home was decorated in colorful and festive ways, but the centerpiece of her skillful adornment was her reverence for the “true meaning of Christmas”—to love and to serve, to live to leave the world a better place than we found it.

She instilled in us an appreciation for standing for what’s good and right. She loved children and volunteered at a children’s crisis center, where she worked in the nursery and cared for abused and neglected infants. My mother also loved animals, and her passion for furry creatures was passed on to us. But, most importantly, my mother lived what she believed—that we must consider the legacy by which we hope to be remembered. What difference will we make in the world? What ignites our passion, and how is that passion sustained? I am convinced that we each make a difference by doing, on a daily basis, the small or simple things in life that add value and improve the lives of the people around us.

As we embark on the new year and consider our resolutions, let’s keep in mind the power of the simple things in life that bring joy to others. Smile more, love deeper and pass it on. Find your passion, use it to enrich the world around you and make a promise to inspire others to do the same.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Reflections in The Cathedral of the Blue Dome

I am a firm believer in the power of reflection and introspection. Finding quiet time to think, contemplate and wonder restores the soul. For me, being outdoors and experiencing the elements brings me considerable joy.

Our family recently moved to the country, several miles outside of Boise, Idaho. Our new home is nestled within thousands of acres of public land, surrounded by several mountain ranges, inhabited by herds of deer, antelope and elk. Above all this marvelous splendor is a big, bold, wide-open sky, what my husband and I affectionately call The Cathedral of the Blue Dome.

During the recent Thanksgiving holiday, I hiked many miles along the hilly terrain that surrounds our property and took time to reflect on some of the pivotal events of my life and how they impacted my choice to become a nurse. Along my hiking journey, a story came to mind. It begins many years ago. I was 16 years old and working as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home. An elderly man whom I will call James lived in the home. I didn’t know it at the time, but James would change the course of my life.

As a younger man, he was severely injured in a construction accident, leaving him a multiple amputee and wheelchair-bound. Later, James suffered a debilitating stroke, but he fought the good fight and refused to yield to the physical limitations of his condition. I was inspired by his spirit, tenacity and determination. The highlight of my working day was spending time with him, listening to his stories as he recounted the history of his life.

Each day was a journey into the existence of a man who loved life and feared little. He taught me to believe in goodness and kindness, and he challenged me to think big, to dream in living color. He encouraged me to make a difference in the world and to leave an indelible footprint on this earth, a footprint I would be proud to leave, one of decency, compassion and integrity. James inspired me to reach higher than I ever believed I could, to soar at 60,000 feet. Most importantly, he encouraged me to become a nurse. He loved nurses, he loved the profession and I know he loved me. As an adolescent, I gave little thought to my future, but I listened to James and his deliberations about the journey of life with its many twists and turns. I took note of his insightful lessons. They mattered deeply to me.

One day, when I arrived at work, I saw the ambulance pulling away. I knew from experience that one of the residents had died, and I wondered who it could be. The night nurse met me at the door and embraced me. Hugging me tightly, she whispered softly that James had died quietly during the night. I was devastated by the news. It was a defining moment in my life, and it made a significant impact on my future career. I decided then that I would become a nurse, that I would strive to make a difference and that I would do everything I could to leave that much discussed and highly treasured indelible footprint.

Many people like James come into our lives and influence us in ways that are deeply felt and shape the person we are; indeed, the person we are becoming. Many of these people are our role models, mentors and heroes. They challenge us every day to make an important difference in the world, to set the bar high and to “pay it forward” by becoming mentors to others, inspiring them to lead mindful and purposeful lives, lives that matter.

Each day, I challenge myself to advocate for a more just and humane world, solidly embedded in the principles of social justice, veracity and equality. I believe that each of us is called upon to serve the common good and to cultivate hope, to be reflective and contemplative when making decisions, to find quiet moments to restore and rejuvenate the spirit, to promote and celebrate the lives and accomplishments of others, and to shine the spotlight brightly on those who are a voice for the marginalized and less fortunate. In the end, it is truly what really matters.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.