On Smashing The Jolly Rancher, and Other Coaching-Related Revelations

A few days ago, my four year old daughter came bounding into the house, carrying a decorated paper bag containing all the contents of her Valentine’s day party at school, a plethora of treats and cards, and stamps, and plastic lips and stickers. She walked to the kitchen table and dove in excitedly with one of her little fingers. I could hear her parting the sea of the bag’s contents, and as she did, I could see it on her face-- she found a coveted item-- a hard, shiny, perfectly wrapped orange Jolly Rancher. “Can I have this!?” she asked me, eyes wide with excitement.
My partner and I have avoided giving our kid hard candy until now-- it takes a certain kind of muscle development to safely, and we’re not quite sure she’s got the skills just yet. Allowing her to just throw the whole thing in her mouth felt foolish. The obvious choice was to allow her to take a potentially dangerous risk, or to take no risk at all. Yes or no. Open it or toss it. Option A or B. Neither felt quite right apart from them being instinctive, almost obvious choices.
The thing is, for all my education and training, my brain still often wants to reduce decisions, particularly decisions around risk, as binary: stay or go. Persist or give up. There are lots of reasons for this, reasons that have been thoughtfully examined in psychological research (if you’re a nerd and feeling curious to learn more, check out contributions on heuristics).
Anyways, I never set out to add “career coach” to my professional title. I certainly never envisioned having a specialty like "values alignment"? I mean come on, what is that even? But I also bet that many of you didn't expect to get hooked on your favorite Peloton instructor or adopt a second pandemic pup. As with much of life’s magic, It just sort of happened.
My coaching clients are magical. Even though they are a diverse lot of academics, they all come to me because something is already swirling in them, something that doesn’t feel quite right or quite fully explored. A lot of that swirling is rightfully centered on what feels broken about higher education right now. And as I’ve talked to more and more academics, I’ve found that our common experiences and language, and the breaking of academic status-conventions afforded by coaching conversations, have the potential to be deeply liberating.
I’ve also always been an activator, someone that likes being in the ground swell, and the necessary discomfort of personal & social change. Part of the necessary discomfort starts with the practice of illuminating. I've always wanted to help expose and uncover, to collaborate as earnestly as possible by simply talking deeply with others, and it turns out coaching activates many of those favorite parts of myself. It also helped me realize that I had to slow the f down for a second to figure that out. But I did, and I'm grateful, and I want that for others for a multitude of reasons, some of which are discretely connected to my disciplinary training and expertise as an inequity scholar.
It also just feels really good to be myself, and by that I mean to really direct energy towards who I am and what I care the most about. And I’ve discovered that being able to support a little more joy and love among a group that never gets either enough of either in so much of the academic experience is deeply rewarding.
So here I am. I am an academic & a career coach specializing in values alignment and I love it. And not because it's all I am or will ever do, but because holding space for academics to get real about their core values and how they can best be activated to prompt greater professional freedom in higher & ed & beyond, is immensely creative, stimulating, and satisfying.
And now, back to kid & the jolly rancher. A simple choice with simple options it seemed. Allow a big risk, or take none. But coaching has taught me differently, and the positive ripple effects are everywhere in my life. I grabbed a mug from our cupboard, put that one piece of hard candy on a paper plate, and crushed the hell out of it until it shattered into 40 pieces of tiny sugar crystals. This small act of creativity brought immediate delight to my gem-loving kiddo, as she pressed her fingertips onto the plate to scoop up the tasty, glistening pieces. This story is as much about parenting as it is about coaching, as much about our default patterns for thinking about problems and solutions, and the power of holding space for curiosity. I invite you to do the same.

