On Leadership and Waterskiing
My recent holiday in Minnesota’s lake country both cleared the mind, and brought back memories. We stayed right on a wonderful lake, and on this lake there were some waterskiers (e-i-e-i-o).
I grew up on the Mississippi River, about 150 miles south of where I now live. I had the good fortune of having several friends who had boats, so even though we were not boat-owners, I enjoyed many summers on the river. One summer, some of my friends decided I should learn to waterski.
Now, while waterskiing is a wonderful, fun sport, it does make one wonder: Who thought this was a good idea? Hang onto a tow rope behind a powerboat. It’s stupid. It is also great fun. Those early waterskiing pioneers from Lake City, Minnesota discovered that it is not as simple as it looks/sounds, and it has two separate learning curves.
First, there is the getting out of the water phase. You start with everything but your head and the tips of your skis under water. Then, the boat starts, and you slowly find yourself rising out of the water. Then, you fall down. Depending on your natural talents, you do this many times.
After you learn to successfully get out of the water, you next have to learn how to balance on the skis. As I said: Two separate learning curves.
So, while my wife and I were sitting at the side of the lake, there was a whole boatload of young people on the lake, learning to waterski. My guess is that there were two seasoned waterskiers, and four rookies. Over the course of three days, they must have gone around that lake 150 times, laughing, encouraging, cheering, and persisting. One young man spent a lot of time falling down, and had a very difficult time getting to his feet. What this means is that the boat goes about 20 feet, then has to circle back to the fallen skier to start the run again. This guy must have tried about 20 times, and failed. Finally, I turned to my wife, and said, “I think he’s got it. He’ll be on his feet this next time.” And he was. By the end of the weekend, he was on his feet many times around the lake, refining his skills and relishing his new-found talent.
Learning to waterski takes a lot of persistence. Not from the one learning, though, but from the ones teaching. It is a constant process of teaching, encouraging, correcting, and enduring failure. The payoff seems like it will take forever. I never became a great waterskier. But thanks to the persistence and leadership of my friends, I can say that I have waterskied successfully.
It takes a special commitment to teach someone to waterski. It is slow, frustrating business because it means taking a boat designed to go fast, and putz along in fits and starts. It means being willing to endure that frustration for the benefit of someone else. It is, truly, an act of patient service.
Kudos to these young people for staying with it and getting all of the rookies up to speed, on their feet, and around the lake successfully. That kind of persistence and sacrifice is rare these days. Maybe we need to think of leadership roles teaching waterskiing. It’s a pretty good metaphor–little personal glory, but great gains for others.