Embracing Confusion: What Leaders Do When They Don't Know What to Do

Rapid change is making confusion a defining feature of management in the 21st century. Paradoxically, the authors argue, leaders who accept their confusion can turn a perceived weakness into a resource for learning and effective action.

By Barry C. Jentz and Jerome T. Murphy

WHILE we didn't know it at the time, the seed for this article was planted some 20 years ago when Jerome Murphy became the new -- and often confused -- associate dean of the Harvard Graduate School of Education. Blindsided by unexpected problems and baffled by daunting institutional challenges, Murphy often lost his sense of direction and simply didn't know what to do. To make matters worse, he felt like a phony. "For God's sake," he said to himself, "isn't a Harvard dean supposed to have the answers?"

Enter Barry Jentz, an organizational consultant who helped Murphy learn that confusion is not a weakness to be ashamed of but a regular and inevitable condition of leadership. By learning to embrace their confusion, managers are able to set in motion a constructive process for addressing baffling organizational issues. In fact, confusion turns out to be a fruitful environment in which the best managers thrive by using the instability around them to open up better lines of communication, test their old assumptions and values against changing realities, and develop more creative approaches to problem solving.

The Lost Leader Syndrome

The two of us were recently reminded of our early encounters with confusion when we had the opportunity to work on issues of leadership with a distinguished group of urban school superintendents. Given the challenge of getting to their present positions, all of these superintendents had long since mastered the skill of presenting a confident, take-charge demeanor. But after developing enough trust to talk frankly with one another, these seasoned superintendents admitted that they were often confused and sometimes simply didn't know what they were doing -- not that they could ever admit that in public.

This candid discussion revealed a pattern of behavior that we have come to call the Lost Leader Syndrome. The standard pathology may look familiar. No matter how capable or well prepared, managers regularly find themselves confronting bewildering events, perplexing information, or baffling situations that steal their time and hijack their carefully planned agendas. Disoriented by developments that just don't make sense and by challenges that don't yield to easy solutions, these managers become confused -- sometimes even lost -- and don't know what to do.

Many managers inevitably will respond to these symptoms by simply denying that they are confused. Others will hide their confusion -- their search for sense -- because they see it as a liability, telling themselves, "I'll lose authority if I acknowledge that I can't provide direction -- I'm supposed to know the answers!" Acting as if they are in control while really not knowing what to do, these managers reflexively and unilaterally attempt to impose quick fixes to restore their equilibrium.

Sometimes, these managerial responses may even succeed in making the immediate symptoms of problems go away, but they rarely address underlying causes. More often, they lead to bad decision making, undermine crucial communication with colleagues and subordinates, and make managers seem distant and out of touch. In the long run, managers who hide their confusion also damage their organizations' ability to learn from experience and grow. Yet, despite these drawbacks, few managers can resist hiding their confusion.

We have observed this dysfunctional pattern hundreds of times in the public, private, and nonprofit sectors -- in government agencies, corporations, universities, and foundations -- and believe that it is becoming more common as the pace of change accelerates.

Our recent discussions with school superintendents suggest that this pattern of confusion and hiding or covering up is particularly prevalent in the pressure-cooker world of public education. Parents, taxpayers, and political and business leaders expect educators to address issues for which there are no ready answers. Tony Wagner maintains that "the overwhelming majority of school and district leaders do not know how to help teachers better prepare all students for the higher learning standards." 1 Similarly, Richard Elmore argues that "knowing the right thing to do is the central problem of school improvement."2

In these pages, we will look at a method by which managers can transform their confusion from a liability into a resource and describe how this resource can be used to promote learning, new ideas, and the ability to take effective action. We call this method Reflective Inquiry and Action (RIA), a five-step process through which managers can assert their need to make sense and enlist individuals and teams without sacrificing their goals, values, or judgment. We believe that in the all too frequent situation of not knowing what to do, managers can make progress and maintain their authority by knowing how to move forward.

The RIA process is designed primarily for "micro" work, such as that in private meetings between individuals and small groups. But, as we shall see, several of the guiding principles behind RIA -- embracing your confusion, structuring a process for moving forward, listening reflectively -- can be quite useful on a larger scale and even in public venues. Significantly, these ideas can help leaders make headway while struggling with the daunting "macro" challenge of educating all children in every school, often a cause of confusion.3

The Tale of the Tape

Is "confusion" even the best term for that sense of disorientation caused by having the rug pulled out from under one's feet or by being baffled in the face of an unyielding challenge? It is certainly a loaded word in management circles, and to suggest that an educator should acknowledge confusion, even to close and trusted colleagues, is risky. When a New York City teacher recently posted on her weblog: "I have no idea how to teach these kids, and I'm not sure I ever will," her principal called her in to assess her emotional state.4

Even if managers can privately bring themselves to accept their confusion, can they truly use it as a resource for effective management? Many managers dismiss this idea as suspiciously touchy-feely. After all, phrases such as "embracing your confusion" sound too much like "getting in touch with your inner child" -- hardly the basis for making progress in a rough-and-tumble world. Some managers may be unsettled by what they see as the "soft" nature of RIA, even if deep down they know that there is truth in the old cliche that real men never ask for directions -- instead they end up driving around in circles.5 (In the RIA model, real managers accept that they are lost and metaphorically ask for directions.)

Nowhere is this skepticism more evident than in RIA workshops. To overcome it and to get managers to take these ideas seriously, we have learned to put participants in front of a video camera and ask them to respond to difficult scenarios that thrust them into confusion. When the tape is played back, participants are surprised to see the discrepancy between how they behave and how they think they behave. They watch how their retreat into hiding produces interpersonal dynamics characterized by posturing, guessing, arguing, and accusing -- when the truth is that everyone is equally confused.6

By contrast, when one of the participants is able to acknowledge her confusion without fear or shame -- and to invoke the rigor of a structured inquiry -- the videotape reveals a palpable change in the participants' sense of energy, competence, and confidence. For a manager who is capable of creating the conditions necessary for interpersonal learning and for those who have witnessed these methods at work, this moment of discovery raises hope that the RIA process can be the foundation for shared progress. For advocates of RIA, these revelations are a powerful argument against dismissing these ideas as too soft for a tough world.

The "Oh, No!" Moment

Imagine being the head of a team charged with preventing deadly radiation leaks at a nuclear power plant. You hear an alarm sound. Based on years of experience and training -- and a quick review of the data -- you make an educated guess about what the problem might be. Suddenly, one of your team members reports that a key piece of information from the reactor systems doesn't fit your hypothesis. In fact, it's the exact opposite of what it should be. You have encountered what we refer to as an "Oh, No!" moment. You can't make sense of what is going on. As you sit stunned in front of your reactor-systems console, your team stares at you, waiting for a decision.

Now imagine that you are a member of the team, looking nervously to your leader. The last thing the situation requires is someone who:

* instinctively blames circumstances or other people when things go wrong;

* says he is open to input but regards any feedback as criticism and doesn't listen to others;

* hates uncertainty and opts for action even when totally confused; or

* takes a polarized view of leadership in which anything less than take-charge decision making shows abject weakness.

We all understand that a manager who neither listens to nor learns from others can quickly turn a messy problem into a nightmare. "Oh, No!" moments are familiar to all of us. They are caused not only by emergencies but also by a wide variety of everyday situations that regularly arise out of the blue and call into question our fundamental assumptions. We just can't make sense of what's going on. Taken aback by these situations, managers become distracted from their strategic agenda and reflexively respond to "Oh, No!" moments like the following:

* A change in technology renders a valued program obsolete.

* A promotion that everyone knows to be "ours" goes to a rival.

* A key administrator resigns without warning, offering an explanation that we simply do not believe.

* After repeated efforts to address a strategic challenge, we get feedback that our latest attempt is a failure.

* The long hours that produce triumph at work also produce trouble at home.

In moments like these -- and in many situations that are more mundane but no less challenging -- our minds begin to teem with questions. Our stomachs churn with emotion. Our old bearings no longer keep us on course. We struggle to reorient ourselves because the assumptions that gave meaning to our daily lives are suddenly rendered inadequate. We grope for new information that can help us make sense of this new situation and its impact. Often this initial investigation fails to reconcile our old assumptions with our new reality, and we find ourselves confused or even lost.

One of the ironies of these disorienting situations (and the "Oh, No!" moments that signal them) is that we often forget how much we rely on our world to make sense until our world is turned upside down by new information or changing circumstances.

Going into Hiding

In the face of an "Oh, No!" moment, few of us are willing to reveal our confusion or our sense that maybe we are lost. To admit such a possibility opens the door not only to the fear of losing authority but also to a host of other troubling emotions and thoughts:

* Shame and loss of face: "You'll look like a fool!"

* Panic and loss of control: "You've let this get out of hand!"

* Incompetence and incapacitation: "You don't know what you're doing!"

At the gut level, many managers believe that saying "I'm at a loss here" is tantamount to declaring "I am not fit to lead."

So, when faced with disorienting situations, most managers deny, hide, or opt for the quick fix, rather than openly acknowledge that they feel confused.7 Denial takes the form of blaming themselves or others, usually the person who delivers the counterintuitive information. Hiding leads to keeping their mouths shut in self-protection, not wanting to risk exposure as anything other than completely composed and confident. (One former school principal calls this the "art of the bluff.") Many managers unilaterally go for the quick fix, often making the wrong choice or dealing with a symptom rather than a root cause. In time, their unwillingness to consult with others and reluctance to seek out new information isolates these managers even further -- having earned a reputation for not getting it, they are offered less and less candid information by their colleagues and staff.

Managers who hide their confusion are also sending out a strong signal that open acknowledgment of confusion is not acceptable behavior. Everyone else learns to hide as well. Organizations can spend thousands of dollars every year on development seminars that teach the power of becoming a "learning organization" that grows and improves over time, but managers who hide their own difficulties send the opposite message. They ensure that no growth occurs, that coworkers have no incentive to communicate openly, and that the organization drives around in circles, making the same mistakes again and again.

The High Cost of Hiding: A Case in Point

Hiding is not only the natural managerial response to the confusion created by dramatic "Oh, No!" moments but also a common reaction to many mundane, everyday interactions, as illustrated in the following case of a meeting of a school district project team that went disastrously awry.

The superintendent was starting a reform effort with a tight and aggressive timetable. The changes had been long discussed, but never in detail, and now it was time to make definite plans. In her personal kickoff meeting with her business manager, chief deputy, and a senior aide, the superintendent said, "We haven't had much time to talk about the approach, but I'm really not so concerned about that because the problem here is really straightforward." The deputy superintendent was confused. "'Not much time' is an understatement!" he thought to himself.

He wanted to say, "I don't want to appear stupid, but I need more clarification. I'm not at all sure of the approach you expect." Instead, he chose to hide his confusion, saying, "I think I understand your perspective, but can we talk about the approach a little bit more?" To which the superintendent responded, "I'm afraid I'm overdue for a meeting. If you get stuck, give me a call. I've got full confidence in the team. We should reconvene in two weeks."

As the superintendent left the room, the deputy thought, "This looks about as clear as mud -- but I can't let the others think that I'm not on top of things. They'll lose confidence." Deciding once again to withhold his confusion, the deputy said to the business manager, "It's too bad we didn't have more time with the superintendent, but I think we've got enough to go on. Let's flesh out the work plan." Meanwhile, the business manager was thinking, "Boy, I'm glad I'm not the one who has to make sense of this -- but it looks like the deputy is clear. It'll probably work out all right."

When the superintendent saw the draft plan prepared by her team, she was completely caught off guard. "They're only about 60% on target here," she thought to herself. "What the hell is the problem? These are my top people! How could they miss the mark on a plan that should have been as easy as falling off a log?" And what did she do with her confusion? She buried it and admonished the group for not finding the right "focus." Crucial weeks and many hundreds of staff hours had been wasted.

In a project post mortem, the superintendent admitted that she had withheld her confusion after reading the team's first draft and asked why her people had not voiced their own confusion during the first project meeting. Team members gradually acknowledged that they had concealed their confusion because they were afraid of looking stupid, making her angry, disappointing her, and being judged as not up to the job.

The RIA Model

To succeed, managers must learn to embrace a new approach -- one that is deceptively easy to describe but remarkably hard to practice. Yet this method can be applied to a wide range of unexpected problems, from time-sensitive emergencies to long-term projects.

Here are five steps for you to consider when you are confused and uncertain about how to get from Point A to Point B (or even unsure of what or where Point B might be). By putting into place an overt and orderly process, you not only maintain your authority but also contain the confusion, avoid premature closure (caused by internal or external pressure to act too quickly), and enlist your team in finding the best way to move forward. You turn your confusion into a resource.

These steps are presented as a sequence, but in practice their implementation should be seen as flexible and opportunistic. They should also be seen as a process within a larger framework: you may need to use them in multiple cycles or multiple venues in order to achieve the best effect.

Because going public with your confusion runs counter to conventional thinking, we suggest care in doing so in circles that go beyond trusted team members, advisors, and confidants. RIA should be tried out initially in limited but critical venues (e.g., with those who report to you directly), and even then you should lay the groundwork carefully by discussing the anticipated change in your problem-solving approach. Schedule a special meeting, distribute this article for discussion, and be open about the potential pros and perceived cons of RIA.

Step 1. Embrace your confusion. When confronted with disorienting problems, you need to do the one thing you least want to do -- acknowledge to yourself that you are confused and that you see this condition as a weakness. Indeed, the biggest hurdle in getting from Point A to Point B is first getting to Point A -- that is, acknowledging your true starting point.

Getting to Point A is extremely difficult because disorienting situations typically produce a painful split between feeling confused and listening to the loud voice that says that "real" leaders are not supposed to feel this way. In the grip of this ambivalence, managers will typically respond in primitive fight-or-flight terms, saying to themselves, "What's wrong with me for getting into this mess?" or "How do I get rid of this awful confusion?" Neither of these predictable responses offers a way to get beyond your inner conflict.

Rather than fight or flee, you need both to recognize and accept your tacit, yet firmly held, assumption that confusion means weakness.8 You might take a deep breath and say to yourself, "I'm confused and that makes me feel weak." Paradoxically, fully embracing where you start will not lead you to wallow in your confusion, but rather frees you to move beyond your inner conflict.

You can then do what you most need to do -- question your assumption that confusion is a weakness that needs to be banished and entertain a new assumption that confusion can be embraced as a resource for leadership. Because changing a firmly held belief is so difficult, it helps to develop a personal mantra. Here are some examples:

* "Confusion is not weakness, but the strength to take in new information at the risk of challenging my basic assumptions."

* "Leadership is being out in front where I have no choice but to encounter situations that make no sense to me."

* "Leadership is not about pretending to have all the answers but about having the courage to search with others to discover solutions."

Step 2. Assert your need to make sense. Having prepared yourself mentally, you now need to engage in dialogue. This face-to-face interaction will normally take the form of a meeting in which you describe your confusion so that others will know the point you (and they) are starting from. You might say any one of the following:

* "This new information just doesn't make sense to me."

* "I have a few thoughts about this, but I'll be the first to say we don't have enough information to suggest a definitive course of action."

* "Before I can make a decision, I need help in understanding this situation and our options for dealing with it."

Unless you come to recognize that being confused is a normal -- even necessary -- consequence of leadership, it will be difficult for you to state firmly that you are at a loss. How you deliver this message is as important as the words you use. Unless you unambiguously assert, with conviction and without apology, your sense of being confused, others will fulfill your worst expectations -- concluding that you are weak -- and they will be less willing to engage in a shared process of interpersonal learning.

At the same time, publicly asserting your confusion helps others to do the same -- to claim their own confusion and begin trying to make sense out of a disorienting situation. By taking the lead, you make it easier for others to follow. Together you and your team will often discover that you share a common problem: how best to structure a process that can turn confusion into a productive, shared search for innovative solutions.

Step 3. Structure the interaction. Publicly acknowledging that you are confused is important, but it is only a beginning. Without skipping a beat, you must next provide a structure for the search for new bearings that both asserts your authority and creates the conditions for others to join you. You provide such a structure by stating the purpose of the joint inquiry, offering a set of specific steps or procedures to fulfill that purpose, providing the timetable, and identifying the criteria and methods by which decisions will be made. By doing so, you will tacitly send the message, "To be confused is not incapacitating. I may not know what course to take, but I know the next step. I know how to structure a process that we can go through together to make sense of our new situation and move forward." In other words, you announce that you are metaphorically asking for directions but that you are still in charge of a process that will produce a clear outcome.

As an example, let's return to our story of the nuclear power plant executive and recall that after hearing the alarm he receives a report telling him the exact opposite of what he expected. Stunned, he is thrown into a state of confusion. While it will not be easy for him, he must acknowledge his confusion in a spirit of inquiry so that others might question his theories or offer explanations for the discrepancy between the expected and the actual report. To establish a good structure for this discussion, the manager might say, "Listen up! We've got two minutes, and then you'll get my decision. Between then and now, I'm going to talk about what's got me confused, and you are going to give me new information, feedback, or explanations for what is going on."

As in this example, it normally makes sense to start a meeting by revealing your state of mind, describing how you propose to structure the interaction, and then offering suggestions about the type of data you need to clarify and resolve the problem.9

Step 4. Listen reflectively and learn. You now need to listen reflectively as others respond to you. In the context of the RIA model, "reflective" carries both of its common meanings: you reflect thoughtfully on what other people have to say, and you consciously attempt to reflect your understanding of what was said back to the speaker.10

Reflective listening is not normal listening. Ordinarily, most of us listen from a reflexive mindset that automatically judges the other person. This mindset is embodied in the question: "What's right or wrong with what was just said and what am I going to do about it?" In effect, your first mental act is to judge the worth of what was said, and your first verbal act is to agree or disagree. This typically leads to a confrontation, not a joint inquiry.

By contrast, reflective listening requires you to put yourself in the other person's shoes and, with an open mind, reflect upon her words, tone, demeanor, and nonverbal behavior. You then test what you have heard by reflecting back in your own words the essence of what she was trying to express. Finally, you come to a full stop and allow the other person the time to confirm, retract, or modify what she originally said. Here's the sound of reflective listening:

* "You seem to be saying that x caused y. Do I have that right?"

* "You're torn between two explanations. On one hand, you think x accounts for z; on the other hand, you think y does?"

* "So you're angry because I am saying one thing and yet doing quite another?"

Reflective listening sounds simple but is actually an acquired skill that requires repeated practice, like hitting a backhand in a fast-paced tennis match. And even after you have learned how to do it, you will still encounter major challenges in applying it to real-world situations. One such challenge is dealing with people who typically are not very good listeners themselves. In conversation with them, it will be only natural to respond to their reflexive style by falling back into the same pattern. Indeed, our habit of responding in kind is such a powerful force that it has a name: the Norm of Reciprocity. ("If you don't listen to me, I'll be damned if I'll listen to you.")

To make matters worse, reflective listening is especially difficult when you most need to do it -- in situations where new information threatens to undercut your cherished assumptions. Because you are inside your frame of reference, you tend to be blind to what may seem obvious to those around you; to you, their perceptions sound stupid, wrong, and intentionally hurtful.

For all these reasons, surprisingly little reflective listening goes on in most organizations. Yet, as hard as reflective listening may be, it is an essential tool for checking the depth and accuracy of your understanding and thereby avoiding action based on untested inferences. Reflective listening also ensures that the other people in the discussion feel that they have been heard and understood, thus increasing their inclination to trust and collaborate with you. By mastering and using this skill, you produce conditions for joint inquiry rather than confrontation.

Step 5. Openly process your effort to make sense. Once you have taken in what others are saying -- some of which will probably be puzzling and may be upsetting -- you need to process your responses out loud. You must suppress the automatic instinct to process internally and simply announce the products of your private search for new bearings. When you find the courage to externalize your intellectual process, you invite others to engage in interpersonal learning. Working together, you can discover the limitations of one another's thinking -- limitations that you cannot know as long as you process privately. Here are three examples:

* "That's news to me. I haven't heard that before."

* "That really throws me. How do you get to that from what you were saying?"

* "That helps me a lot by pointing out x."

If you end up using all of the available time without coming to a clear resolution, bring closure by explicitly summarizing where you are in the learning and decision-making process and describing next steps. You can say something like, "Clearly, we have a disagreement here. Let's state it and put it aside for now. We should move on and get next steps in place, including agreement on when and how this will be finally decided."

"Another Case in Point: RIA on a Larger Scale

This case illustrates one way that the techniques of RIA apply not only to isolated and limited interactions and meetings but also to larger-scale initiatives.

Two months into a new job, a school superintendent received the results of a statewide literacy assessment: 25% of his district's eighth-graders couldn't read! A flash flood of dismay, blame, and calls for immediate action stormed in from the community, the media, and the schools. Behind the scenes, the school board demanded that the superintendent institute an emergency remedial reading program in all elementary schools and issue a strong "shape up" memo to the entire teaching staff. The teacher union made it clear that teachers were not going to be scapegoats.

Confronted on all sides with demands for action, the superintendent used RIA to interrupt the blame game, gain time for analysis, and avoid a rush to a quick fix, which he thought would exacerbate factional divisions without solving the problem. He was also confident that he could deal with his confusion without appearing weak or out of control.

Meeting privately with each board member, with small groups of the district's administrative staff, and with the head of the teacher union, he asserted his confusion about the test scores; he listened reflectively to accusations, demands, and explanations for the poor results; and he argued that action should follow a better understanding of the problems. He used a similar approach, with only slightly less candor, with business and community leaders, parent groups, and the local media. By listening carefully to everyone's concerns, the superintendent was able to garner support for a period of structured inquiry.

After these initial meetings, the superintendent created an inquiry group of teachers and administrators, charging it to analyze existing student data to evaluate the competing explanations for the poor results. As the group examined the data and tested hypotheses, everyone realized that they were all in the same boat -- deeply confused. None of their assumptions or preconceptions seemed to account for the low test scores. That shared recognition freed them to work in concert.

Within weeks, the inquiry group came up with three significant findings: most of the nonreaders had entered the district after the third grade and so had missed the district's exemplary phonics program; the nonreaders were clustered in several schools in disadvantaged neighborhoods; and the transfers of students from one grade to the next were uncoordinated, so that those who needed long-term remedial assistance were not getting it.

On the basis of this new, shared understanding of the problems, targeted programs were implemented to address them, which led to an improvement in test scores the following year. Moreover, the superintendent gained widespread credibility because his more measured and informed approach avoided an ill-considered quick fix and produced results.

"So what?" a skeptic might say. "So the superintendent did his job -- big deal." The fact remains that, every day, managers in similar situations don't do their jobs because they are afraid of their own confusion. Instead of acting on it with some version of the steps described in this article, they insist on denying it, hiding it from others, or trying to banish it with a quick fix. And, all too often, the problems get worse.

Confusion as a Resource

In the 21st century, as rapid change makes confusion a defining characteristic of management, the competence of managers will be measured not only by what they know but increasingly by how they behave when they lose their sense of direction and become confused. Organizational cultures that cling to the ideal of an all-knowing, omnicompetent executive will pay a high cost in time, resources, and progress, and will be sending the message to managers that it is better to hide their confusion than to address it openly and constructively.

Being confused, however, does not mean being incapacitated. Indeed, one of the most liberating truths of leadership is that confusion is not quicksand from which to escape but rather the potter's clay of leadership -- the very stuff with which managers work. Managers can be confused yet still be able to exercise competent leadership by structuring a process of reflective inquiry and action. The RIA process can help address the maddening "Oh, No!" moments that can hijack managerial agendas. Equally important, the central principles of RIA can be quite useful on a larger stage (as seen in the school superintendent case) and can help managers make progress when taking on longer-term, strategic challenges, such as meeting the public expectation that all children learn.

The RIA process provides an orderly way for managers to move forward when they don't know what to do, to stay "in charge" when confused and even lost, to contain shared confusion and work on it, and to avoid premature closure. It enlists the manager's team in finding the best way to make progress and promotes honesty, trust, and mutual respect. It turns a perceived weakness -- confusion -- into a resource for learning and effective action.

Armed with confusion and the RIA process, leaders can take timely, constructive action -- even when they don't yet know what to do.

1. Tony Wagner, "Beyond Testing: The 7 Disciplines for Strengthening Instruction," Education Week, 12 November 2003, pp. 28, 30.

2. Richard F. Elmore, "Knowing the Right Thing to Do: School Improvement and Performance-Based Accountability," NGA Center for BEST PRACTICES, August 2003, p. 9, available at www.nga.org/center. Click on the center's logo, and search on the author's name.

3. When applied to these "macro" agendas, RIA may be seen as one of many methodologies available to managers to pursue the larger-scale challenges of long-term "adaptive" leadership, as described by Ronald A. Heifetz in Leadership Without Easy Answers (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1994).

4. Mark Toner, "'Blogs' Help Educators Share Ideas, Air Frustrations," Education Week, 14 January 2004, p. 8. For many leaders, it's easier and safer to employ humor or euphemism. After a long lifetime of blazing trails on the American frontier, the octogenarian Daniel Boone was asked by a friend if he'd ever been lost. "No, I can't say as ever I was lost," Boone replied, "but I was bewildered once for three days."

5. One of the lessons of our work in leadership and management training is that this pattern of reluctance to seek assistance from others when lost and confused is not limited to male executives. It may be that many female leaders respond to the pressure of gender bias by cultivating a style even more self-contained than that of their male colleagues.

6. The discrepancies between the way managers behave and the way they think they behave has been extensively reviewed in the literature on leadership theory. See Chris Argyris and Donald Schon, Theory in Practice: Increasing Professional Effectiveness (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1974).

7. Some managers may take their confusion "off-line," revealing it to only one or two trusted confidants. As one veteran executive told us, "I could never say something like that in public. It would be suicide. But there are people I can call on to talk things through with and then say, 'This conversation never happened.'" Unfortunately, while this safety valve provides a valuable sense of relief for managers wrestling with confusion, it doesn't help others in the organization to open up and engage in productive conversation.

8. For a similar argument about the power of basic assumptions, see Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey, "The Real Reason People Won't Change," Harvard Business Review, November 2001, pp. 85-92.

9. The joint inquiry model can be used on as small a scale as a one-on-one meeting but has obvious applications in larger situations as well. At the macro level, one of the best situations in which to use this model is when a manager starts a new job. Obviously, entering a new workplace is bound to throw a manager into a state of confusion, since historical explanations of key events will vary from source to source and there will be little initial guidance about which sources are reliable (i.e., whom to trust). For a detailed account of "structuring the interaction" at the beginning of a new job, see Barry Jentz et al., Entry (McGraw-Hill, 1982; reprint, Leadership & Learning, Inc., available from www.entrybook.com).

10. The definitive article on listening remains Carl R. Rogers and F. J. Roethlisberger, "Barriers and Gateways to Communication," Harvard Business Review, November/December 1991, pp. 105-11. (Originally published in 1952.)

BARRY C. JENTZ is an organizational consultant to public and private schools, corporations, and private firms and a lecturer in the Graduate School of Education, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. JEROME T. MURPHY is Harold Howe II Professor of Education and dean emeritus, Graduate School of Education, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. He is currently a visiting professor at the Graduate School of Education, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. The authors would like to thank their colleagues and the participants in the Superintendents Leadership Program, a collaborative effort of the Graduate School of Education and the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University; Ron Heifetz for his enduring insights; and Samantha Tan for her research assistance and counsel. The authors would particularly like to thank Thomas Champion for his extraordinary contributions to this article, and they are especially grateful to the Wallace Foundation for its support.