Q: Describe your most challenging professional relationship.
A: How do you lead people who were once your peers and will become your peers again? Two years ago, prior to becoming dean, I was basically just like all of the other faculty members. And one day, when I'm done with this job, I will go back to being one of them.
In my two years as dean, I've found that the way to manage your peers -- past and future -- is through a culture of inclusiveness. In a nonhierarchical organization, it's critical to have a structure where people who are going to be affected by a decision are part of the decision-making process.
When I came on board, I needed to focus on our academic curriculum. My first move was to open up the process. Previously, there was only one associate dean position, and the job dealt with two segments: teaching and research. I decided to create two separate associate positions to focus specifically on each segment. To fill them, I chose two professors whom the rest of the faculty could go to regularly. Then I went to the new dean in charge of teaching and asked that person to put together a task force on the curriculum. It included faculty from all departments and one student.
The truth is, a dean has virtually no power. The faculty and my senior staff have the power. I need to earn their respect to move forward. Managing faculty members has been likened to herding cats, but that's not entirely true. Most people are behind you to help. The question is, Do you have a culture that will let them help you?
Q: What matters most to you, and why?
A: I have one word for you: leadership. By leadership, I mean taking complete responsibility for an organization's well-being and growth and changing it for the better. Real leadership is not about prestige, power, or status. It's about responsibility.
Over my lifetime and in my four years as dean, I've become more aware of and impressed by how much of leadership is about emotional intelligence. The more you lead, the more you understand just how much of it is about motivation -- and motivation is about emotions. Most universities operate in the world of the intellect: The person with the best idea is the brightest. But to lead, being smart isn't sufficient. You have to connect with people, so that they want to help you move the organization forward.
I learned that lesson when I took over a division at Wells Fargo and tried to turn it around. I had the passion to make it better, but the old management balked and quit en masse. I hadn't realized that they were afraid of change and that it was my role to help them understand my reasons for it.
Traditionally, we didn't do enough to help prepare our students to take on leadership roles. We helped them confront problems of analysis, finance, strategy, and so forth. But the way you learn leadership is by leading. So today, part of our role is to help make students more aware of what leadership means, to get them excited about it, to inspire them to try leadership jobs, and to really understand themselves. Leadership is a performing art. Intellectually, it's simple. But behaviorally, it's complex and difficult work.
Q: Recognizing that successful leaders are able to learn from failure, discuss a situation in which you failed and what you learned.
A: When they admit a class at Harvard, they pick from all these unbelievable people. I wasn't one of them. I was a regular guy who had worked in a migrant labor camp and who got a shot at Harvard because somebody said, "Bet on this kid." I was accepted mostly because of an influential alum's recommendation.
I came to Harvard in August 1967 and had a total disaster of a year. I was on financial aid, and I spent my first month cleaning dorms. It was not fun, nor was the rest of the year. I was completely adrift, culturally and socially. I didn't fail any courses, but my best grade was a B in chemistry. There wasn't a failure of effort; I worked my tail off, but I just didn't get it.
I left Harvard, and I didn't know if I wanted to go back. For two years, I served as a Mormon missionary in Germany. Then I spent a year at Brigham Young University. Both experiences helped rebuild my confidence.
In 1971, I returned to Harvard. This time, I was a lot more focused, and it showed. I graduated magna cum laude with highest honors in economics.
My freshman year taught me a lot about my own limitations. The diagnosis was twofold: I probably was taking the wrong classes -- chemistry, for one -- and I didn't have my life together. I also learned that failure is about what you do with it. You may not be able to control the situation, but you can choose how you react.
Today, I apply that insight to my work. How you deal with failure determines part of your success as a leader -- not only in your own life, but in the lives of people around you. As dean, I work hard to find ways to help our faculty, staff, and students be successful. Sometimes it doesn't work. People get into jobs that don't quite suit them. But people who work hard and who don't succeed deserve our best effort to help them find a place where they can be successful.
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