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A review by joelkarpowitz
Linchpin: Are You Indispensable? by Seth Godin
3.0
Am I alone in thinking that every motivational work book could pretty much be summarized in two or three paragraphs? It's not that I don't enjoy them, because the style of this sort of self-help book tends to be very conversational and with lots of entertaining (or semi-entertaining) examples. But most of the time it seems like the author has about a handful of ideas designed to make you rethink your approach to your job/life/etc. and then spends two hundred plus pages belaboring the point. It's why, though these books are easy to read, I never get particularly excited about reading them.
That said, in Linchpin author Seth Godin did make some great suggestions that have encouraged me to shift the way I think about my career. In essence, Godin suggests that the real key to success, career satisfaction, and (though he downplays it) profit is to make yourself an indispensable part of your organization, to figure out what "art" you have to offer the world/your company/your clients/etc. and then not be afraid to go "off script" and make human connections doing so. He talks about getting out of the mindset that all work is about exchange (I do a service, you pay me) and being taken care of and should be about giving gifts and blazing trails. It's all very shiny, happy, "let's hold hands and sing songs and realize how special you can be if you'll get out of your comfort zone," and some of his advice is still a little pie-in-the-sky (e.g., the best linchpins don't need resumes because their work and what they've accomplished is their resume--they don't fit in as an easily replaceable cog, so why would they apply for the same jobs that everyone else with a resume does), but I like rethinking my job as a teacher as art, and I like rethinking how I teach.
I got an email this week from a former student who was amazed and thought I would need to know that he got his first college essay assignment and that the teacher said they didn't want a standard five-paragraph essay. This was a student who I had repeated conversations with about understanding the form and organization and why it mattered. I wrote him back to tell him that--shocker--I agreed with his teacher. The five-paragraph essay is boring, it's flat, and any "formula" for good writing eventually grows stale and, well, formulaic. But the basics of learning how to write a five paragraph essay (what I had hoped I was teaching him) give you the groundwork to explode the formula. Once you know how to organize and clarify your thoughts, you can go a million different directions with them. Yes, I also stopped (for the most part) writing five paragraph essays after high school. But that's because I knew how to structure my thoughts in ways that were (for the most part, I hope) clear and understandable. Once you can do that, then it doesn't matte whether you're writing one paragraph or a thirty-page essay. The form provides a base, but the art comes from the ideas and insights that the form helps you to make clear.
I wonder if I'm teaching my students that enough. I don't want my students to all produce the same end product. I want them to discover their own voices and ideas. Every essay, even with tenth graders, I try to tell them that there's not a "right" essay that I'm looking for. There's not a single answer to an essay prompt, there are many. It's taking their unique insights, supporting them, and presenting them in a clear, meaningful, and convincing manner. I think that's what Godin's getting at. Quit thinking that you have to be the same kind of teacher (or web designer, banker, etc.) as everyone else, and figure out what you have to bring to the table that's unique. That's your art, and that's what you can nurture and develop and share with the world. Doing so turns you from a cog into a linchpin--and what do you know, it makes your job more enjoyable as well.
That's not a bad message. It's one that has had me reconsidering how I approach my subject and what it is I want my students to walk away from my classes thinking, feeling, and understanding. It's got me thinking about what unique abilities I have as a teacher that I can bring to bear more fruitfully--things like patience, and my sense of humor, and my expectations, and my tech savvy-ness, and so on and so forth. So I guess, for all the fluff, I like what Godin's saying here. (And what do you know, I explained it in five paragraphs after all.)
Grade: B
That said, in Linchpin author Seth Godin did make some great suggestions that have encouraged me to shift the way I think about my career. In essence, Godin suggests that the real key to success, career satisfaction, and (though he downplays it) profit is to make yourself an indispensable part of your organization, to figure out what "art" you have to offer the world/your company/your clients/etc. and then not be afraid to go "off script" and make human connections doing so. He talks about getting out of the mindset that all work is about exchange (I do a service, you pay me) and being taken care of and should be about giving gifts and blazing trails. It's all very shiny, happy, "let's hold hands and sing songs and realize how special you can be if you'll get out of your comfort zone," and some of his advice is still a little pie-in-the-sky (e.g., the best linchpins don't need resumes because their work and what they've accomplished is their resume--they don't fit in as an easily replaceable cog, so why would they apply for the same jobs that everyone else with a resume does), but I like rethinking my job as a teacher as art, and I like rethinking how I teach.
I got an email this week from a former student who was amazed and thought I would need to know that he got his first college essay assignment and that the teacher said they didn't want a standard five-paragraph essay. This was a student who I had repeated conversations with about understanding the form and organization and why it mattered. I wrote him back to tell him that--shocker--I agreed with his teacher. The five-paragraph essay is boring, it's flat, and any "formula" for good writing eventually grows stale and, well, formulaic. But the basics of learning how to write a five paragraph essay (what I had hoped I was teaching him) give you the groundwork to explode the formula. Once you know how to organize and clarify your thoughts, you can go a million different directions with them. Yes, I also stopped (for the most part) writing five paragraph essays after high school. But that's because I knew how to structure my thoughts in ways that were (for the most part, I hope) clear and understandable. Once you can do that, then it doesn't matte whether you're writing one paragraph or a thirty-page essay. The form provides a base, but the art comes from the ideas and insights that the form helps you to make clear.
I wonder if I'm teaching my students that enough. I don't want my students to all produce the same end product. I want them to discover their own voices and ideas. Every essay, even with tenth graders, I try to tell them that there's not a "right" essay that I'm looking for. There's not a single answer to an essay prompt, there are many. It's taking their unique insights, supporting them, and presenting them in a clear, meaningful, and convincing manner. I think that's what Godin's getting at. Quit thinking that you have to be the same kind of teacher (or web designer, banker, etc.) as everyone else, and figure out what you have to bring to the table that's unique. That's your art, and that's what you can nurture and develop and share with the world. Doing so turns you from a cog into a linchpin--and what do you know, it makes your job more enjoyable as well.
That's not a bad message. It's one that has had me reconsidering how I approach my subject and what it is I want my students to walk away from my classes thinking, feeling, and understanding. It's got me thinking about what unique abilities I have as a teacher that I can bring to bear more fruitfully--things like patience, and my sense of humor, and my expectations, and my tech savvy-ness, and so on and so forth. So I guess, for all the fluff, I like what Godin's saying here. (And what do you know, I explained it in five paragraphs after all.)
Grade: B