We sat on the floor and peeked under the bed. We found a bag of doll clothes first and then a box of rag dolls. We spent some time dressing them up, trying new combinations of purple and pink and funky patterns. Then, curious, we looked under the bed again. 

The large box was ugly on the outside and partially torn. Inside, we found beautiful porcelain dolls of various sizes. The Mexican señorita had large brown eyes and lustrous lashes. Then there was a redheaded cowgirl,  a heavily made up beauty from Puerto Rico, a Brazilian cangaceira (a typical character from the Northeast), and a collection of Disney miniatures. We laughed as we uncovered a very old Russian doll I got when I was 6 years old. By now her porcelain skin was almost entirely white and her cheeks an unatural red. "I used to think this was the most beautiful doll in the world," I told her.

"Not very pretty now," I laughed. She giggled and agreed.

Last we opened a smaller box loaded with stuffed toys. I pressed the hand of the very purple Barney who knew her name and sang "You are special." We laughed some more.

I don't know how long we played. It was magical and unforgettable for both of us. Then I kissed her goodnight.

We work on our schedules and make sure we have achievable and measurable goals - racing after raises and promotions and making darn sure someone knows what we achieved. We spend hours on the computer. We fight. And as we fight for one more recognition and one more article and one more praise we forget our real treasures - the ones under the bed, the ones inside carboard boxes, the ones colored with joy and memories.

Suddenly, whatever I was going to write about tonight doesn't seem important at all.

The other day I was chatting with my mother about engagement and rewards. I was explaining that my engagement did not depend on the opinions of others – it depended, instead, on my own pride, commitment and DNA. Engagement is about me and about what I was born to do for a living.

Mom then reminded me of an old and favorite poem called “The Man in the Glass.”  She found it for me on the Internet. The first part of the poem goes like this:

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn’t your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts most in you life
Is the one staring back from the glass.

My mother is right. The Man in the Glass has everything to do with engagement. Those who are engaged do not excel in their work because of external rewards – bonuses, gift cards, or “employee of the month” certificates. They do not go above and beyond because someone out there will give them a medal. Instead, they do it because of their own sense of purpose.

Don’t get me wrong – recognition is likely to help. Recognition gives us a sense of being valued and valuable. Recognition calms fear and uncertainty.  Recognition tells us there is someone who cares that we worked so hard or for so long. In order to improve engagement, however, recognition has to mean care. It has to involve true appreciation. Otherwise it’s not recognition – it’s just compensation.

Even the best kind of recognition, however, will not be as strong or as powerful as our own recognition.  That person in the glass does more for our engagement than anyone else.

And perhaps… that is the message we need to send our colleagues. Stop expecting others to engage you. Stop waiting for others to cheer you up.

Instead, start focusing on that person in the glass.

Martha woke up with the absolute certainty that she could no longer do it. There was too much pressure. Too much stress. Every day, every meeting, every decision… all eyes were always on her, expecting her to save the day, expecting her to be the leader, the hero, the idea machine. And whenever she caught those eyes staring at her she had to shake the absurd feeling that they were staring at someone else.

“I wonder what they would think of me,” she pondered, “if they knew how totally clueless I feel.”

Because she did feel clueless. Out of her element. Like someone expected to swim with no water and no feet and no lessons. She felt like the world was expecting way too much of her, and she felt like a failure because she couldn’t provide it all – or be it all.

She had tried all sorts of ideas. Training programs – some of them very good. Books – all of them with the greatest of ideas. Multisource assessments. University courses. The answers were always the same. Take risks. Calm down. Keep your goals in mind. Be honest. Be fair. Be focused. So she tried to do all those things and be all those things. she tried it all and tried it all the time.

And it really was all the time. She was always working. Working or trying to work – or thinking about work – or worrying about work. Work consumed her life. Gone were her hobbies, the things she had once enjoyed doing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had lunch with a friend or thrown a party. She didn’t spend weekends out of town and didn’t take vacations. She didn’t purchase casual clothes – everyday clothes were just work clothes that had lost their shine. She didn’t own a dog because dogs took time and she traveled too much. She didn’t have a boyfriend and hadn’t had kids and she was beginning to wonder whether a normal life would ever happen to her.

And yet… all that effort didn’t seem to pay. The company was still in trouble, in spite of her efforts. Sales were way down. Costs were high. Layoffs might be inevitable in the near future.

Failure. Failure is defined differently by different types of leaders. If you are the type of leader whose only focus is the bottom line, then failure means a worse than expected (or needed) bottom line. But she was a different type of leader. Her definition of leadership success included the success of her people. Even if the company made it, even if a promising new product succeeded, even if she was lauded as the greatest CEO ever to have walked the earth – she could not feel successful if she didn’t take all her people with her. All of them. Letting some go was not acceptable.

Finally she had hired a coach – a top gun. The coach came to see her every week, and every week the coach asked her the same question. What is most important? What do you need to do now? The coach encouraged her to let go of guilt and to think like a businesswoman. Think of the business, he said. Think of the goal. Think of the bottom line. What is most important?

For a while, coaching was helpful. If nothing else, it gave her an hour a week to focus on her needs rather than on everyone else’s. The coach functioned as a surrogate boss, the boss she did not have. The coach asked her the tough questions no one else would ask. She liked him. After a while, however, she started postponing the coaching sessions. Maybe tomorrow. Can we have it next week? So sorry, but I have an important meeting… and then she finally decided to let go. She had no time for coaching. She had no time for questions and doubts and insights. She had real work to do.

Her head was throbbing again. Lately her headaches had intensified and become full blown migraines. She tried Eastern and Western medicine, combined acupuncture and Tylenol and still the headaches persisted. And the nausea. And the feeling that she could no longer go on.

Martha got out of bed slowly and stared at her image in the mirror. She felt tired and old. She had aged the last 4 years. Her hair was grayer than before. There were two straight lines between her brows, lines that looked even deeper in the morning. Her skin felt dull and dry to the touch. She was still an attractive woman but her mirror told her otherwise.

She turned on TV for some company and heard the anchor say something about heroes. Someone had saved a kid from a burning house. Someone else had given everything he had to a needy family. “Some hero I am,” Martha thought.

As always, her laptop was on. She hardly ever turned it off at night – she hated not being able to reach her emails quickly, and sometimes worked until she fell asleep. She touched the mouse automatically. Martha had developed the habit of checking her emails first thing in the morning, before even drinking coffee or having breakfast. Of course that meant that often she had neither coffee nor breakfast… and left home way later than expected. Oh well – “that comes with the territory,” she thought.

Strangely, this time she did not turn on her email. Instead, she clicked on Microsoft Word. A blank document stared back at her, deliciously empty.

“Martha’s Journal,” she wrote. A journal? Who the heck has time for a journal?

She pressed on, undaunted. Today she would make the time. She wrote the date. Then she stared at the screen some more. And wrote “today is the first day of my life as a hero.”

“As if I needed more pressure,” she thought, but just for a moment. Somehow the sentence didn’t give her pressure. It gave her a strange peace. “Today is my first day as a coach,” she wrote on. “As my coach.”

She paused. My coach? What on earth… “if I couldn’t make it with a hot shot coach who only coaches CEOs what makes me think I can do it on my own?” She ignored her own criticism and continued. “Today I will start pulling from within. I will start asking myself questions and taking the time to hear my own answers. Today I’ll stop expecting anyone else to know what I know already.”

“Wow.” Martha felt a strange vibration from within and forgot about her headache. She had been feeling lonely and empty and miserable… and now, out of nowhere, came some exciting energy. “Today I will be my own leader – the best leader ever, because I know my needs and my weaknesses and my motivations better than anyone else…and become I care about those needs and weaknesses and motivations. And as my own leader, I will help me solve the problems that can be solved. I will, however, understand that not all problems will be solved. I will do what I can to help my people but I will accept that I can’t help everyone. Today I will act like a hero and accept that I am human.”

It couldn’t be that simple. Her problems were horribly complex. It wasn’t only her business – it was the economy, the world, the stock market. She couldn’t possibly think that she could come out of all that unscathed simply by becoming her own coach.

Her answer came fast and furious – and crystal clear. “You won’t come out unscathed. Neither will the company. You will find a solution, though. And it will be the best solution you could find. Not a perfect solution – but a good one.”

Hunger finally hit her. With a newly found sense of balance she saved her work and took the time to get ready. She took a nice warm shower and picked her favorite outfit. She made coffee. She cooked some eggs. She stared at the snow falling and felt warm inside.

“Today is my first day as a hero,” Martha repeated out loud, “and I’m finally my own boss.” Then she smiled broadly, her early headache forgotten, and left to work.

I can't imagine what life would be like without my glasses. Quite fuzzy, I suppose. Glasses definitely make my life more comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that I often forget I have them on.

Personality is like an old and comfortable pair of glasses. I don't plan to be an extravert. I don't wake up and think "hum, I think I will be original today." I just experience life from an extraverted and original vantage point.  The problem is: I could easily judge others according to their proximity or distance to my standards. In this sense, people are not just extraverted or introverted; original or conservative in absolute terms. They are simply more or less extraverted and original than I am. 

That gets me thinking of "gut" reactions. People often say - quite proudly - that they "trust their gut." They just know when people are good or bad, trustworthy or dishonest, safe or dangerous.  Problem is - how can we be sure our "gut" intution about someone is not, quite simply, a reaction to this someone's uniqueness? Couldn't a strong dislike simply signal difference?

I don't trust my gut. My gut is surprisingly unreliable. My gut has told me to stay away from people who later became close friends.  My gut assured me people hated me when in fact they didn't. My gut has steered me in the wrong direction more often than I could count.  And that's all right. I don't know. Each human encounter brings the danger and fascination of the unknown ... and the learning that comes from new discoveries.

Life would be boring if I always just knew.

I love teaching.  Like everyone else I may have days of tiredness and frustration. Overall, however, I love what I do.  I love saying I’m a professor.  I love meeting with students and can typically do so even when extremely tired. In fact, more often than not, students energize me.

Why do I love teaching so much?  Here are some possible reasons:

• I am a huge extravert. I hate being on my own and can easily network in a crowd of strangers. Teaching gives me the social interaction I crave to be happy.  Under certain situations, however, I am quite happy to be on my own – and some comfort with solitude is important as I conduct research or write.
• I am supremely independent.  A very rigid hierarchy would just about kill me.  Professors have bosses, of course – but the typical academic boss is also worried about his or her own research and teaching, having no time for micro management.
• I can get quite anxious. As a sales person I would be miserable – always worrying about the big sale and easily taking rejections personally.  That same nervous edge, however, works quite well as I teach.  Nervousness adds just the right amount of empathy for my students’ problems. I can understand when they freak out – I’ve been there!
• I am hugely original and curious.  Curiosity is a gift for a professor.  After all, we constantly need to read, study, research, find stuff out.  My curiosity makes it easy for me to transmit passion for learning.

These are just a few areas of perfect “fit” between who I am and what I do. And that’s exactly what engagement means.  A perfect fit. A tight connection.  The conviction that I was born to do what I do. 

As I write this, I wonder if there is a downside to so much love. Of course. First, love makes it personal.  If you take away my classroom and my students you’re not only taking away my livelihood – you’re taking away my persona.  Second, love makes it vulnerable. People can hurt those who love. Third, love makes it intense.  Workaholism is a serious threat.  

Ask yourself: Are you deeply in love with what you do? If so - how can you protect yourself from the vulnerabilities of love? If you find out… please tell me. For now, I’m happy to take it all – love, fear and pain. My students make it worthwhile. Engagement makes it worthwhile.

Years ago, I traveled around the country running diversity sessions for a major accounting firm. A frequent co-facilitator in those sessions was my friend Rich Grote (Rich, if you’re reading this… here’s to you!)

Rich used to tell funny stories about the culture of his small home town in Minnesota. One of these stories had to do with the need to “ask three times” before any offer was taken seriously.

“Where I come from,” Rich told us, “we always had to ask three times. Here is how this works: Suppose I offer to take you to the airport in the middle of the night. I say: Hey, would you like me to take you to the airport? You should never assume I really mean it… unless I ask again.” Rich went on to say that he discovered the cultural rules were different in Washington, D.C. the hard way.

“A friend told me he was taking the 5 a.m. plane,” he recalled. “Of course, I made the mandatory nice offer to take him to the airport. I fully expected him to say ‘oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you, I’ll take a cab’ or something like that. I was just being nice! Instead, my friend said ‘that would be great!’ I found myself driving in the highway at 2 in the morning asking myself: What the heck just happened here?”

Rich’s home town and my native Rio de Janeiro have something in common. I’m not sure we ask “three times” exactly, but we do frequently make offers we do not mean. For instance, someone could vaguely say “Aparece lá em casa” (do “show up” at our house!) without any expectation of having someone take that offer literally. A “real” invitation, after all, would obviously go beyond asking people to “show up.” Obviously? Really? Or should I say culturally?

I once had a funny incident around the “ask three times” rule. Coming home from the university, I had a flat tire. I confess I am terrible with cars (ask me where the engine is and I’ll look puzzled) and have no idea how to change a flat tire. I was, therefore, pretty relieved when a truck driver stopped and offered to change my tire. The relief I felt, however, could not possibly overcome my strong cultural programming. Someone offers me help? First, I have to make sure the offer is “for real.” My answer to the truck driver? “Sir, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

Now, a Brazilian truck driver would probably “read me” perfectly well. Here is a possible answer: “It’s no inconvenience, really!” (offer number 2). At that point, I would respond with my best “damsel in distress” smile: “really, are you sure it wouldn’t be a bother?” The driver’s expected chivalrous retort: “Not a bother – it will be my pleasure!” (offer number 3). Ok, now I can accept your offer in good conscience. By the way, the entire interaction just described assumes that the truck driver is a male (as is still often the case in Brazil). Female-female interactions would likely follow different cultural rules (probably a more “sisterly” discussion of help).

Of course, the Ohioan truck driver who stopped to help me had no idea of what he was expected to do. As soon as I said “but I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you” he said “ok then…” and went back into his truck, leaving me alone on the side of the road with my flat tire.

Don’t you worry – the story ended well. Fortunately, I remembered Rich’s lessons about Minnesota. Shortly thereafter, another truck driver stopped and made the same offer. I immediately said “Yes! That would be great!”

Now, before you ask – does every person from Rio de Janeiro expect someone to “ask three times”? Is every Ohioan truck driver that direct? Of course not. Cultural rules reveal a certain tendency of a group. These are not individual rules. People’s personalities and personal experiences also play a key role in their reactions and behaviors.

Culture matters, though. Applying a cultural rule can be instinctive and immediate. I didn’t stop and think before telling the driver “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” I didn’t play chess or consider what his interpretation of my reluctance could be. I just responded the way I was raised to respond. I played my role. I did my part.

Next time I am stuck on the side of the road, I’ll know what to say. In the meantime, note to self: Learn how to change a flat tire!

This weekend I did something I had been procrastinating for months: I completed my yearly evaluation form. I did it on the last possible day... it's due tomorrow! The fact is I hate completing my yearly evaluation. Now, before you wonder what the problem is, I can tell you what the problem isn’t. I did not have a bad year. I did what I was supposed to do. I do not expect any big problems or surprises in my yearly evaluation. Instead, my procrastination is a sign of the profound discomfort I feel when evaluating myself. Why? Because in my native Brazil I grew up following a powerful rule: Thou shalt not brag.

The cultural rules I grew up with did not only prescribe what I was supposed to say or not say about me. There were also unspoken yet powerful rules about how I was supposed to behave when others praised me. For example, suppose someone praised me for an outfit I had just purchased. “Oh, this?” I would answer… “I bought it in a sale!” I certainly wouldn’t agree… and even most certainly I would not bring it up! The “Thou shalt not brag” rule also applied to artistic talents or professional achievements. If someone said “you are talented!” I was supposed to smile, thank the person for the praise, and disclaim. “I am still learning,” I could say or “I have a wonderful teacher.” A great professional achievement? It wasn’t me. My team did it. My boss helped me. Someone else contributed to it.

Cultural rules involve an intricate web of unspoken rituals and behaviors that are perfectly logical to the members of the culture. In the examples above, my Brazilian counterparts would not necessarily attribute my denials to actual humility. Instead, both parties knew perfectly well how to interpret one another’s behaviors. They were supposed to praise me. I was supposed to downplay the praise. They were then expected to insist (if the praise was truly legitimate) and accept my denial as further proof of my accomplishment. In this complicated cultural game, everyone knew his or her role.

Then I moved to the United States. On the surface, U.S. American and Brazilian cultures may not seem that different. Professionals dress similarly. People celebrate some common Holidays. By the time I arrived in the U.S. (right after getting married to an American citizen) I had already visited the U.S. on several occasions. I had participated in two or three professional conferences. I knew how to behave… or thought I knew. Cultural differences, however, may be subtle. Further, they are often unwritten, unspoken, and instinctive to the members of the culture. No one could tell me “Thou shalt not brag” no longer worked. People did not know it did not work because they did not know that rule existed in the first place. I was expected to brag – not so much that I would be considered arrogant, but just enough. A touch of bragging was now perfectly acceptable. A touch of bragging meant I had what it took to succeed… and knew it. My disclaimers and protestations did not mean courtesy – they meant, instead, self deprecation (at best) or maybe even lack of self confidence. I was now expected to not only brag but also to bring up my accomplishments in meetings and during discussions with my boss.  Did you achieve something great? Let others know. Are there opportunities for awards? Ask to be considered. Do not expect others to praise you. Take initiative. Show that you care.

And that brings me back to what started today’s blog: My performance appraisal. By now I have lived in the U.S. for long enough that you would think I learned the new cultural rules. I should be able to fill out this form without a problem. I should be happy about listing my accomplishments. I should look forward to the meeting with my boss. Instead, the old lessons of my childhood and youth are still strongly imprinted in my brain. I am still groaning.

My only consolation: This only happens once a year.

Today I talked to my students about culture. I shared some of my experiences - some funny, some downright scary – as I came from Brazil to the United States or tried to run a training program in Finland.  Professional expectations in these three countries are somewhat different – maybe not so different that a casual observer would notice immediately, but different enough to make me stumble on more than one occasion.

Joining a new organization can also be scary.  Over time, organizations develop their own set of values, “best practices,” ideals, processes, and strategies.  People learn what works and what doesn’t, what makes the difference between becoming a coveted “high po” or someone who is easily forgotten. As I discussed organizational cultures with my students I wondered… what can a leader do to ease people in? How can leaders alleviate some of the culture shock a new employee may experience? Here are some possible ideas:

Examine your own defaults

In “The Practice of Adaptive Leadership,” Heifetz, Grashow & Linksy explained that “defaults” are based on unquestioned cultural assumptions.  We don’t think. We don’t question.  For instance, I asked my students today: “Who is tired?” (it was around 6:30 in the afternoon, the class had been going on for a couple of hours, so most of them raised their hands). “If you are tired,” I then asked, “why didn’t you leave? Why are you still here?” My students seemed confused. “It’s a sign of respect,” someone said. “Sure it is,” I acknowledged.  You don’t leave because the class hasn’t ended. It doesn’t occur to you to get up and leave. Staying here for the duration of the class is one of our cultural defaults. That’s just “the way things are.”

Leaders should take the time to examine their defaults.  The “way things are” is often simply “the way things are over here.” What do you do without thinking? What rules do you follow almost unconsciously? Whose ideas tend to be accepted without question?

Ask about the defaults

Your new employee can be a rich source of information on defaults. He or she will notice immediately that some things are “different.” In most organizations, new employees are simply encouraged to “observe” for a while. “You’ll get used to the way we do things,” someone may recommend. “Don’t rock the boat.” “Don’t make waves.”

Discouraging newcomers from sharing their observations may be a critical mistake. Given time, the newcomer will indeed learn “the way things are around here.” He or she will stop noticing and stop caring. The default will set in. By then, it will be too late to take advantage of a fresh pair of eyes and source of positive criticism.

Beware of assumptions

Your newcomer may unknowingly break one or more rules. He or she may wear the wrong outfit, laugh at the wrong time at a meeting, tell the wrong joke, say the wrong thing to the boss. Resist making assumptions about professionalism, intelligence, or potential – at least until the newcomer figures out the new rules. Keep in mind that the speed of cultural adjustment does not necessarily imply that the employee is somehow “better” than others.  Instead, the fact that someone “adjusts quickly” may mean simply that the culture from which he or she came is fairly similar to the culture of the new organization. 

Be kind

Culture shock can creep in when individuals are thrown into an unfamiliar world.  Imagine looking at the mirror one day and seeing a different person – a person no longer well-known, no longer appreciated, no longer invited for lunches and coffee breaks. It is like playing a game of cards with suddenly different rules – gone are your old “trump cards,” your chips have a different value, your ace becomes a 2.

In summary – leaders can and should receive newcomers to their organization with the same kindness, patience, and openness to learning that they would use to entertain a foreigner in their land. Further, leaders should take new employees as an opportunity to learn about themselves, their culture, and their defaults.  Keep in mind that every new person is a window to the way things are… and the way things could be.

I was born in Brazil, lived in Argentina for a number of years, and immigrated to the United States as an adult. My profession has taken me to different countries and encouraged me to deal with people from all over the world. Here are a few ideas I gathered along the way:

You are a product of your culture

The word culture can be described as a set of instructions received from our family, friends, and society at large. Such instructions are seldom written or explained in detail. They are, nevertheless, the basis for many of our daily decisions. We all have values, beliefs, and behavior patterns inherited from our cultural background. There is nothing wrong with that – as long as we understand that these values and beliefs are not universal.

For instance... my own heritage makes it uncomfortable for me to "sell myself" in an interview or public scenario.  Where I come from arrogance is a capital sin.  This makes me rather prone to self effacing comments. For instance, I could say in a public presentation that I don't "know that much" about a topic... whether or not I do!

Understand that you don't understand

Because our basis for perceiving reality is our own cultural heritage, we may easily misinterpret certain events, gestures, or body language. It is best to recognize that in a different cultural environment, the rules have changed. This can be quite disorienting at first.

When facing a situation that doesn’t seem to make sense, stop and ask neutral questions. For instance, ask “What does this gesture mean?” instead of “Why are you upset with me?”

Invest in learning the language

Multiculturalists spend a lot of time convincing people to learn about cultural practices and ideas. People attend cultural classes and read etiquette books. Yet, we often fail to take the one step that can truly make a difference – learning the local language. Yes, it is not an easy task. Yes, it takes time. However it is time very well spent. Without taking the time to learn the local language you cannot possibly communicate with locals in a way that is comfortable for them.

Even if you speak with the worst possible accent and make a thousand mistakes, learning the local language conveys respect and interest. You will build a solid ground for establishing relationships and learning.

It's not all about culture

This last point may seem odd, given that I'm talking about cultural differences and cultural understanding. However, this is one thing I learned in the United States and in Finland, in Brazil and Argentina. It's not all about culture. At the end of the day there are extraverts and introverts, nervous and calm people, those who want to be powerful and those who hate power demonstrations.  Personality is distributed as in a normal curve, after all.  You could find a counterpart in Malaysia who is more similar to you than your next door neighbor.

As Head of Moderation for Linked:HR, I regularly go through Member Discussions.  As I went through the list today I came across a question on diversity.  Specifically the Member wanted to know if diversity had a measurable impact on the organization.

The question reminded me of the literature search I conducted when I wrote my book on diversity (Diversity Training, published by the American Society for Training and Development). At that time, I thought that if I looked hard enough I would find evidence of the positive impacts of diversity. Interestingly enough, the evidence I found was pretty mixed.  For instance, a very large study conducted by Professor Thomas Kochan and colleagues from various large U.S. universities (Kochan, Bezrukova, Ely, Jackson, Joshi, Jehn, Leonard, Levine, & Thomas, 2003) found that "racial and gender diversity do not have the positive effect on performance proposed by those with a more optimistic view" (p. 17).  The authors went on to say that racial and ethnic diversity did not impact group processes negatively either... in other words... diversity, at least the type of diversity defined solely by race and gender, seems to matter very little, one way or the other.

It makes sense. Indeed, the belief that increasing the gender/ethnic diversity of an organization will improve its productivity or profitability belies logic. For instance, my own ethnicity is Brazilian/Portuguese. Does that make me more productive? Does my presence in a group make it  more productive? Why?

When I ask this question in a group of colleagues passionate about diversity I often see raised eye brows. It's not your ethnicity that impacts productivity, some claim. It's the fact that your ethnicity is connected to differences in perspectives and world views. A group including a variety of perspectives is more productive.

That's a nice thought. However, my ethnicity does not necessarily imply in differences in perspective. It is likely, instead, that other factors contribute to my perspectives. For instance, I may be somewhat pessimistic at times, seeing possible "holes" in situations and predicting problems before they occur. That trait gives me a different perspective than that of optimists - and has nothing to do with my Brazilian/Portuguese heritage (or, for that matter, with the fact that I'm a woman).

Don't get me wrong - I am not saying gender/ethnic diversity do not matter. Neither am I saying that certain world views are not connected with one's gender and background. My ethnicity, for instance, relates to my cultural heritage and my cultural heritage does bring a certain worlview. My gender gives me some gender-specific experiences.  What I am saying, though, is that these perspectives by themselves are not likely to make me more productive.  They are not likely to help a team in which I participate become more productive. They may or may not help and may or may not be important - depending on the case.

Of course, my colleague's question may have had to do with far more than gender/ethnic diversity.  She may have been interested in the measurable impact of differences in general... differences in personality traits, functions, experiences, etc. In a nutshell, the question could be "Could a company which values differences in perspectives, worldviews, and personalities be more productive? Does diversity in general matter?"

My answer to that question is " it depends." Differences in perspectives may be particularly helpful in problem solving and in adaptive situations. Further, differences in perspectives may permit adaptation to a changing environment. From that standpoint, differences are good. 

These same differences, however, may invite a team to debate, discuss, and make changes. When the task is simple and straightforward, when no adaptation is required, and when originality does not matter, I daresay diversity will not improve productivity - instead, it will likely reduce it.

From a personal standpoint, I like diversity. Differences make things interesting, and differences help me learn.  Let us stop and think, however, before we mindlessly advocate the idea that diversity is a magical potion capable of producing results. Diversity means differences... and differences by themselves are likely neither good nor bad but simply neutral.

All of a sudden, I realize what has been bothering me all along. When we talk about networking, our meaning is often shallow. We do not really mean getting to know others. Far less do we mean sharing, learning and teaching, perhaps understanding a different paradigm or viewpoint. Often, what we really mean is… hum, I wonder what that person over there can do for me? Could she give me a job? Buy one of my widgets? Help me in my next promotion? Networking becomes netusing.

I looked up the word “networking” in my electronic dictionary. Here is a possible definition: A network is an intricately connected system of things or people. Through networks, we are joined in a common passion for learning, cooperating, leading one another. Networking, therefore, means the collective weaving of a web of collaboration for which we all become responsible. Does that sound like the networking we hear so much about?

I have lately read fascinating articles connecting Quantum Sciences to learning. The term “Quantum” comes from “Quantum Mechanics,” a field that emerged from Einstein’s theories. “Quantum” means “a quantity of,” and “Mechanics” is a study of bodies in motion. A possible definition for “Quantum Mechanics,” therefore, is “the study of subatomic particles in motion (Shelton & Darling, 2003, p. 354). Quantum Learning, on the other hand, was defined by Vella (2002) as a type of learning that uses “all of the neural networks in the brain” (p. 73). Quantum Learning means awakening all our senses for learning. We are urged to assimilate different paradigms, absorb different worldviews, and allow our intuition to guide our learning path. Quantum Learning is total learning.

By definition, we can never reach Quantum Learning without one another. Total learning makes no sense unless different people dialogue, debate, dispute, and collaborate. For instance, Stacey (2003) defined learning as the product of interactions between interdependent people. These are the very interactions that we achieve through the real networking. Not the netusing or netgettingajob or netmovingahead kind.

Next time you hear the word networking, therefore, think about the kind of networking that we are called to pursue – the kind that intricately connects us all in a web of learning.

I was thinking about this as I came to work today.

Engagement has become a major "buzz" word for HR. We want our employees to be engaged - fully there... giving their all. What happens, however, when those super engaged people have to be let go? Can we then ask them... hey, don't take it personally. It's just business. It's not about you. It's about the needs of the organization and I'm sure someone as great as you will be fine.

Really?

Ok, here's the problem. Engagement means a deep connection between who the person is and what the person does. Engaged employees do not do their jobs because they are paid or because it's their responsibility - even though, of course, we all must make a living and we all have responsibilities.  Instead, engaged individuals work because they breathe. They do their jobs because that is who they are. And because their personal and professional personas are deeply and closely tied, their jobs do become personal.

What are some of the benefits of this "deep connection"? Well, so far, research data seems promising. Engagement seems to be related to lots of organizational "good stuff" such as lower turnover, lower intention to quit, higher customer loyalty, and higher productivity. It stands to reason. Who wouldn't want an employee who gives his or her all? Who wouldn't consider such an employee a true treasure?

Problem is - what do you do with these highly engaged, highly connected, highly productive employees when you have to let them go? What is the impact of that? What are the moral responsibilities of the organization when you inspire engagement, invite engagement, hire for engagement... and then fire those who are engaged?

I am reminded of a quote from Saint Exupery in "The Little Prince": "You are responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose." When I read the Portuguese version, the word used was not "tamed" but "captivate" ... we were to be responsible for those whom we captivated or invited in.  We were responsible for the love we inspired and for the passion we forged.

Aren't we possibly responsible for those whom we inspire to be engaged?