Ralph FordIn any undertaking, ther e seems to be a natural order of things. You
have visited this concept with your premise of “the four seasons of life.”
Will you tell our readers about this?FORD
It’s just seems to be common sense that we first should be
students—students of our surroundings with observations of those
around us and, in the case of achievement in a certain discipline, a
sponge for the i nformation offered by those who have done it.
We move from being a student to being a player. We try to emulate
th ose who we admire and have a proven track record. Next we become
the “expert,” not just because we are from more than fifty miles away,
but because we have mastered the challenge on a consistent basis.
Last, but certainly not least, we enter the phase of the mentor. Yes,
we still do our job. Yet we realize that when it’s time to carve out more
mental space, we consult with those who carry on the good work and
become a positive extension of ourselves and an integral part of our
legacy.
WRIGHT
This sounds to me as if you are convinced that being more
successful, more competent, more engaged, and more profitable is
something that c an be learned. Am I wrong?
FORD
No, David, you are not mistaken. Your workshops only add credence
to that premise. When we are first the student, we demonstrate the
basic example of unconscious incompetency—we don’t know what to
do, but we don’t know that we don’t know. A baby sucking on its
shoestrings is a good example.
When we get into the game and become a player, we move into the
realm of a conscious incompetent. We know we don’t know, but we
know we want to. This would be relative to a child holding the strings
and a ttempting to tie its shoes. We’re lear ning and we are inquisitive.