Mechanistic controls.  Tight interdependence.  Centralized authority and clear hierarchy. These are concepts we often associate with bureaucratic organizations.  Perhaps the most common visual metaphor for such systems is the picture of interlocking cogs and wheels.  “You’re just a cog in the machine,” is a phrase that has crystalized into a euphemism for a lack of agency or power to create change or exercise independent thought within a bureaucratic system.

While I do think that many of the bureaucratic controls alive and well in our organizations have outlived their usefulness in the context of our dynamic, information ubiquitous and fast-paced society, my purpose is not necessarily to bemoan bureaucracies.  To the contrary, my purpose is to point out that even in traditional bureaucracies – such as a large public school district – the metaphor of the cogs and gears simply doesn’t hold up.

In Santa Ana, for example, we’re engaged in a partnership with the CORE Districts and the Carnegie Foundation to use the tools of Improvement Science to better understand our current systems of operation and make deliberate, strategic decisions to improve those systems.  At the center of this work is learning to think with a systems perspective.

To help our district and school leaders adopt a more systemic perspective on their work improving outcomes, our improvement coaches Juli Coleman and Amanda Meyer from CORE designed a game they called the “Butterfly Game.”  Taking cues from the idea of the Butterfly Effect, the game is designed to help participants experience the interdependence of working within a system, and how small changes can sometimes cause large perceptible shifts.  However, unlike in the metaphor of cogs and gears where causes and effects are predictable, the game reflected the much more unpredictable nature of improvement work.

We started off standing in a circle.  The only rule we were given was to identify two other people in the circle, and then when we heard “go,” position ourselves equidistant from those two people without making it obvious who we were tracking.  Immediately on “go,” everyone in the circle started moving, trying to make physical adjustments to stay equally distant between their two human guideposts.  To the outside observer, this impromptu system was little more than chaos.  To participants, there were clear, if unseen, relationships influencing our every move.  Of course we all had chosen different people to track, and that interdependence spread messiness everywhere.  People were crashing into tables and nearby trees – paying such close attention to the the people they were positioning against that they failed to spot stationary obstacles.  When a participant came late to the circle from the bathroom, nobody really paused to clue her in to what was happening, so she did the best she could to figure it out without looking and feeling confused.

At some point, the movement slowed down to a trickle, and the system seemingly came into equilibrium.  Then the game designers decided to make a few structural changes, moving just a few participants from one location to another – citing the promise of greater efficiency and effectiveness as the motivation for the move.   When we heard “go” a second time, the system immediately started moving in response to the structural shifts imposed on the system.  I myself had difficulty avoiding a collision with both tables and other participants as they adjusted their positions.

Again, the system eventually settled into a tenuous equilibrium.

The debrief of this experience was rich in drawing out metaphors and parallels with our work as systems leaders.  Relationships are deep and often unseen.  We can’t always define the rules of the system but often can see and measure their impact.  Small changes can cause unpredictable outcomes.  We sometimes neglect newcomers to the system or allow others to sustain contact or injury without taking much notice.

Yes, we have to work together to get the work done – but the systems within which we are working are much less linear and predictable than we like to admit.  Often, our solutions offer technical, linear fixes to systems where human intuition and human error are in constant play.  The tools of improvement science are meant to equip us as leaders with analytical practices that slow down our shortcut-seeking, solution oriented administrator brains.  Instead, we apply methodical, analytical processes that help us get better at getting better.

When I started my current job just over two years ago, I made the decision to go paperless.  The idea was to completely minimize the physical objects I needed in order to do accomplish my work.  I removed all of the file folder cabinets that welcomed me in my new office.  I opted for a desk without drawers.  I used the job transition as an opportunity to experiment with some of my personal systems for organization – and I was eager to go as completely digital as possible.  I started using Evernote and Reminders as my software programs of choice to manage notes and daily priority lists.  I purposefully chose programs that synced seamlessly across my devices – and to a large degree these systems have worked incredibly well.

Fast forward to a few months ago as I was revisiting some of my productivity practices.  I had successful gone paperless.  I’ve avoided paper inundation in my office, and I carry access to virtually everything I need.  For the most part, my colleagues have figured out that they shouldn’t be offended when I pass back their handouts at the conclusion of a meeting.  I’ve taken pictures, annotated documents as necessary, and am ready to move on.

There was only one problem.  My digital notes were boring and uninspiring.  Sometimes I would find my mind wandering to other pressing tasks in the midst of a meeting without anything concrete to keep me tethered.  Despite accessibility, minimal stuff, and fantastic search capacity, my electronic organization system was leaving me cold.  Maybe the decision to abandon all of my tactile productivity tools was too hasty.

So, a few months ago I started doing a little research.  In the end, the blogs and Pinterest posts had me convinced that I needed to give bullet journaling a try.  So I bought myself a notebook and a set of markers and started to experiment.  I thought I might occasionally share some of these bullet journal adventures – which truly have brought me nothing but joy.

The Daily Log

Probably the most utilitarian of my page formats.  It’s nothing more than a list of reminders.  I use a square checkbox for tasks, and I use a circle checkbox for events or meetings.  When I first started, I also left space for a daily reflection or gratitude.  While often insightful, the daily reflections have proven difficult to sustain.

Shareable Notes

I spend a lot of time in meetings where information is shared that would be helpful to other people who, for whatever reason, are not able to attend.  I’ve gotten into the practice of taking pictures of a completed note page and either texting or emailing it as a summary sheet.

Engagement

Perhaps the single most useful aspect of my journal is how easy it is for me to stay focused on the content of a meeting or presentation.  I’m in deep listening mode all of the time because my brain and hands are engaged in capturing the most important information to integrate into my notes.  For example, every principal in our school district prepares and delivers an hour-long data-summit that provides an overview of past performance and outlines future goals.  These meetings are incredibly important, but mentally, when you’ve attended a few dozen of them, it can be hard to stay completely focused.  I started taking notes of the presentation and it has been incredibly helpful in sustaining my attention – plus I have a easy reference to each school’s major initiatives and challenges.