And I would argue the second greatest force in the universe is ownership.
– Chris Chocola
“He needs to get buy-in,” someone in class said today as we discussed a case study of a school where those in charge were failing to get all teachers swimming in the same pedagogical direction.
From there, the room was flooded with off-hand mentions of “buy-in.”
Some agreed, some advocated the opposite of buy-in and argued the use of administrative power instead.
I sat thinking for a while.
By the time I raised my hand, class was running short on time and many other voices needed heeding.
What I wanted to say was this:
If buy-in is your goal, if it is what you are shooting for as you advocate change, you are working toward something less shimmering, less amazing than what you imagine when you put your dreams to bed.
What I wanted to reference, as my access was sleeping in my bag, was the idea of ownership vs. buy-in.
I’m not certain when, but a few years ago, I started noticing buy-in as a main descriptor in conversations around project formation. Whether it was planning professional development or building units of study for students, people were worrying about buy-in.
“I like this project. I’m just worried about how I can create buy-in with my kids.”
“This is a great approach, and I’d love to take it to my faculty, I’m just not sure how I can get buy-in with my teachers.”
It came up so often that it started to permeate my thinking.
“A bunch of people are talking about ‘buy-in,’” my brain kept saying.
I honestly can’t remember who it was, that pointed out to me a distinction that has doused my thinking in intellectual kerosine ever since.
When making change, when starting the new, when shifting thinking; it is ownership toward which we should work, not buy-in.
Henri Lipmanowitz, former chairman of Merck International and board president of the Plexus Institute, draws a line between “buy-in” and “ownership.”
“Your implementation will inevitably be a pale imitation of what it could have been had you been an ‘owner’ instead of a ‘buyer-in’…” Lipmanowitz writes.
I have trouble disagreeing.
When thinking about larger educational policy or thinking about the workings of my classroom, ownership means more than buy-in.
If the system is working, we work toward ownership.
If ownership is established, I do not need to become a salesman.
If ownership is established, I do not need to worry about customer relations down the road.
If ownership is established, I am not in an idea alone.
If ownership is established, it will take more time.
For the latter, Lipmanowitz has a counter argument. To those who argue the involvement of all players at the inception will take time, he responds, “People that are affected will inevitably be involved.”
The difficulty for the classroom and for the shaping of policy or systemic norms is the paradigmatic norm of time allotment as incremental.
I’ll design the unit.
I’ll take time to show it to my peers.
I’ll explain it to the students.
I’ll teach it.
They’ll have questions.
I’ll answer them.
We’ll struggle as they work to buy my vision.
We’ll get to the learning…
Lipmanowitz’s believe (and mine) is based around the assumption that spending the chronological capital at the outset to insure ownership will smooth the road later on.
“In complex situations,” writes Lipmanowitz of the concept of ownership, “it is the only one that is likely to generate superior results. It requires giving people space and time for self-discovery.”
That’s worth it.