The primary professional association for city and county managers is ICMA, the International City/County Managers' Association. ICMA offers a credentialing program for established public managers. In 2018, there were 1,348 ICMA credentialed managers in the U.S. By comparison, there are about 1,696 professional football players in the NFL suiting up to play every regular season Sunday.
To become a credentialed manager requires a combination of education, experience, and a commitment to ongoing professional education. One of the requirements is an annual report where the manager describes his or her continuing education.
I've been a ICMA credentialed manager since 2006. This year, I am taking the unusual step of posting my annual report on this blog. Public administrators (and advocates of good government) emphasize the importance of transparency. Normally, this applies to the work of government rather than its workers but I think there's some benefit in sharing professional development goals and insights.
At the beginning of the year, I listed three professional development growth areas:
* Advocacy and Interpersonal Communication
* Policy Facilitation
* Critical evaluation of the role of public administration
The first two are common areas included on ICMA's list of suggestions; the third is my own (not terribly surprising--I suspect--given the name of this blog). To explain why these goals evolved during the year requires a bit of background on the city/county manager profession.
The chief administrator of a local government is normally appointed by the governing body, be it a city council, board of county commissioners, or other similar entity. Most "serve at the pleasure" of the body; some CAOs have employment contracts offering additional assurances and provisions. ICMA has a model employment agreement. The most current version is available only to ICMA members but for the curious, the basic document can be found here.
For most of my professional career, I have had an employment agreement. I entered 2018 as the final year of a four-year contract. In football parlance, it was a "contract year." And much like in professional football, there normally are contract negotiations. Some deals are struck with little fanfare; other negotiations drag on for months. Sometimes, a mutually agreeable deal can be reached, and sometimes not.
As with any business, both parties are well served by keeping contract negotiations confidential. If a deal cannot be reached, the best path forward is for both sides to thank the other and wish them well. That's exactly what I will do here. My contract ended in September. I left with nothing but positive feelings about my experience in Caroline and deeply grateful for the privilege of having spent seven years leading an evolving organization and accomplishing many goals, a few some thought were impossible for Maryland's second poorest county.
Much of my time between March and September was spent engaged in transition planning (in addition to managing the day-to-day operations of a local government with a nearly $50 million annual budget. Myt lame duck status complicated my professional development plans. For example, I didn't feel it was appropriate to attend the summer Maryland Association of Counties (MACo) conference at the jurisdiction's expense with only a few weeks of employment remaining. I also missed the Maryland administrator's conference in October and the winter MACo conference.
On the positive side, I was able to attend my first national ICMA conference in many years. The annual conference was held in September. Because I am a "manager-in-transition," the fee was waived. While it had been several years since we lived on Maryland's western shore, it was easy enough to find accommodations and reacquaint myself with Baltimore's public transit system. My conference attendance and my participation in sessions I wasn't able to attend (via the virtual conference videos) allowed me to put a major dent in the required hours of professional development. The balance, I achieved through reading and webinars.
Not surprisingly, my professional development goals evolved with my circumstances. The first goal of "advocacy and interpersonal communication" remained the same but the focus shifted towards communication with the governing body. I also broadened the scope to include recruiting and retention communication. Regarding the former, I explored how how one can better convey unwelcome but necessary information on complex administrative and policy matters without that communication becoming adversarial. Regarding the latter, filling vacant positions had become a critical challenge for the organization during the two years prior to my departure. Given my status as looking for a new position, I also had a personal interest in better understanding recruiting.
One book I selected to read was "Talk like TED" by Carmine Gallo. My wife and I are fans of TED talks. After buying the Apple TV "puck" we discovered the TED channel. As part of reading the book, I revisited some of my favorite TED talks (like Sean Achor's TED talk on happiness).
Gallo's book does an excellent job dissecting what make TED talks work. The book divides the TED approach into three broad characteristics: emotional, novel, and memorable. The theme that resonated most with me was the emphasis on storytelling. In the public policy arena where discussions are normally dominated by budget numbers, data, etc., it is important to weave information into compelling stories. I also found a measure of inspiration in the 18-minute rule.
TED talks are limited to 18 minutes, no exceptions. If only the same were true for budget presentations. The 18-minute rule forces presenters to be disciplined and focused. Scientifically, it helps listeners avoid cognitive backlog, the "drinking from a firehose" problem where listeners simply receive more information than they can process.
In Caroline, I developed a budget process called "the Caroline Way," a shameless theft of Baltimore's "the Oriole Way." The overarching goal was to have the process become more collaborative and less competitive. For example, we used techniques like having department heads do the budget pitch for another department or games like using poker chips to "vote" for capital projects, not allowing DHs to vote on their own proposals. With allied agency heads buying in to the process, the budget process became far less adversarial. Where we came up short was simplifying information for elected official and the public. What I missed was creating a role that budget presentations should follow a TED template, i.e., 18 minutes, very few visual elements, more emotion, and more storytelling.
One of the real positives of Gallo's book (and binge-watching TED talks) was a reminder of how much of local government is storytelling. This holds true for the recruiting process where the organization has an opportunity to tell its story, not simply ask candidates for theirs.
Another book I chose for advocacy and interpersonal communication waas "Recruit Rockstars," by Jeff Hyman. As I left Caroline County, our senior management team was discussing recruiting. The local economy was strong. Unemployment was low. County government does not pay particularly well and the traditional benefits (pension plan and excellent health insurance) seemed less appealing to the current generation entering the workforce. We saw recruiting and retention as critical challenges. My translation was, "How do we advocate for our organizations with jobseekers and communicate effectively in terms of recruiting?"
After reading "Rockstars," I had decidedly mixed feelings about the content. Beginning with the negative, I disagree with the premise that outstanding employees are born, not made. What Hyman writes is, "Sadly, C-Players never become B-Players and B-Players rarely become A-Players." I believe people have the capacity to grow, change, evolve, and adapt.
When it comes to hiring, I urge department heads to think about intangibles: Integrity, interest, and intensity. If an applicant comes through the door and demonstrates personal integrity, a keen interest in the work, and a high level of energy and passion... we can find something useful for them to do. Using Hyman's language, we look for people we think can become "A" or "B" players over time--in a particular role, and with ample training, mentoring, and coaching.
I think Hyman's book is a good primer on understanding what an organization wants in potential employees and how to communicate that message clearly. I also agree with his observation that having great employees is a key advantage in recruiting. Great people want to work with other great people. His book also is an example of why things that may work in the private sector may not work in the public.
On the goal of policy facilitation, I picked a hot-button topic upon which I thought more reading was due: public safety. I chose a couple of books I thought would be interesting, "Rise of the Warrior Cop" by Radley Balko and "The End of Policing" by Alex Vitale. Naturally, I did a good bit of casual reading from Black Lives Matter to Blue Lives Matter to Ta-Nahisi Coates rumination on Blue Lives Matter.
This particular subject was prompted by a discussion regarding School Resource Officers (SROs) in elementary schools. Discussion is likely the wrong word. The need for armed police officers in every elementary school was a foregone conclusion of some participants. The depth of the debate was simply "What if something happens?" Nevermind that "...the statistical likelihood of any given public school student being killed by a gun, in school, on any given day since 1999 was roughly 1 in 614,000,000. And since the 1990s, shootings at schools have been getting less common." (Ropeik, 2018) By comparison, the odds of winning Powerball is about 1 in 292 million.
There was an attempt to discuss options that might enhance school security and better fit in the elementary school milieu. The idea of a professional with some security training but with far more focus on behavioral health had traction with school officials, but this met the "this is a job only a certified law enforcement officer can do." This contention was not one of fact, but of faith.
This background led to the "Do Facts Matter Anymore in Public Policy?" The short answer is, "Apparently, not." The article by Jeff Nesbitt is good opening to the debate between "...two competing theories – 'deficit model' and 'cultural cognition.'"
Nesbitt's writes, "Journalists, by and large, believe that a well-informed, fact-based society will make sound democratic choices. That's the guts of the deficit model – that if the public only had better, factual information at their disposal, they'd make the right choices." Coincidentally, public administrator hold the same belief. That's why ICMA and the profession focuses so strongly on public engagement and education.
As Nesbitt's observes, there's a growing body of science supporting the notion that facts matter less than preconceived notions. A conversational description of the phenomena can be found on NPR. Broadly speaking, humans tend to do a decent job evaluating facts and making decisions in areas where they don't hold strong beliefs. On the other hand, even people who confident in their objectivity show evidence of bias when asked to do an object task (like math) on a subject about which they feeling strongly (gun control). A more wordy explanation can be found in this essay in the New Yorker.
What I enjoyed about the New Yorker essay is the notion that our species stubborn resistance to facts is based on adaptive behavior. Put plainly:
"This lopsidedness, according to Mercier and Sperber, reflects the task that reason evolved to perform, which is to prevent us from getting screwed by the other members of our group. Living in small bands of hunter-gatherers, our ancestors were primarily concerned with their social standing, and with making sure that they weren’t the ones risking their lives on the hunt while others loafed around in the cave. There was little advantage in reasoning clearly, while much was to be gained from winning arguments."
So, do we simply give up on facts and make emotional appeals? No. One of the fundamental responsibilities of a city manager or county administrator is to be the honest broker of facts. To facilitate the public policy process, however, one cannot put much faith in facts to carry the day, particularly on a question where participants have strongly held preconceived notions.
There are a few hopeful signs. Diverse groups tend to do better than individuals (or like-minded groups) in reasoning. The conversation about SROs might have been more nuanced had the group included parents and teachers rather than just law enforcement officers and elected officials. Change in firmly held beliefs that fly in the face of facts can change--but generally on a person-to-person basis, incrementally, and over the course of time. This suggests a different role for the CAO than simply a bringer-of-facts to the public policy process. What exactly that is... I'll have a chance to figure out in my next job.
My third goal is: Critical evaluation of the role of public administration. This evolved into a catch-all and where I'll fit in my attendance at the national ICMA conference in Baltimore.
Part of the larger question about the role of public administration requires dialogue within the profession. This is one the great values of a professional conference, the sharing of stories, collegial disagreements, shared venting, and general dialogue about our jobs, our careers, and our profession.
My focus during the ICMA conference was not purely professional development, at least not in the narrow sense. I attended a lunch for managers-in-transition where ICMA Executive Director, Marc Ott, graciously participated and shared his story about being in transition. I also attended the session on the Harvard Senior Executives in State and Local Government program.
I have had some quibbles with credentialing report reviewers in the past over what exactly constitutes "professional development." Part of the knowledge and skills necessary to serve effectively as a public manager--particularly one who serves at the pleasure of a governing body--is navigating transitions like the the one I'm currently experiencing. While I am a critical observer of public administration, I came away from the ICMA conference again impressed by public administrators. Whether old friends/colleagues or new acquaintances, I found my fellow practitioners pragmatic, thoughtful, and optimistic despite this not being an easy time for those in the business of government.
When I mention the Pew Charitable Trust survey of Trust in Government, many of my colleagues are quick to observe it is the federal rather than local government people distrust. That is true--a point noted by the Trust researchers--but it is also true that local government is not immune from the hyper-partisan world within which we live. One of the themes I encountered during the ICMA conference and during my "lame duck" year is that I'm not alone in sensing things have changed over the past quarter century. To borrow Galadriel's opening from the Lord of the Rings (movie). "The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air."
I concede some measure of bias. For me, my employment world has changed. While I learned some valuable things at the conference (and watching sessions I was not able to attend due to the laws of physics, i.e., not able to be in two places at once), my mind was occupied by larger thoughts. I have spent nearly 20 years leading local governments. The time has been profoundly rewarding and, with all due modesty, I think I have done good work.
At the conference in September, I was looking forward to a few months of a sabbatical, a time to rest, reflect, and ruminate about my professional life. After three months (and over 16,000 miles driving around the U.S.), I have concluded I miss the work and the people. In Caroline, I left behind some extraordinary professionals... and friends. I look forward to the opportunity to lead another local government, or--absent a compelling opportunity--to use what I have learned as a leader to the benefit of some organization that shares my core values.
This may be my final report as an ICMA-credentialed manager. This is my final thought to whomever get stuck reading this report verifying that I have indeed logged the minimum of 40 hours of formal professional development: The 40-hour rule is silly. Like every other city/county manager I have spent countless mornings coming in early or evening staying late absorbing new information to cope with the challenge of a job that is constantly evolving, deepening and broadening my grasp on a dizzying array of subjects.
In February, my organization had a data breach. W-2 information was sent in response to a clever phishing email. This resulted in mass identity theft including my own. Within 72 hours, I moved from knowing very little about identity theft to knowing (painfully) a great deal. And the situation was a tremendous learning experience in crisis management. Naturally, that doesn't count towards the 40 hours because--in the words of one reviewer--that was me simply doing my job. My response: the job is the ultimate in professional development, an experience when one is constantly forced to learn, adapt, master, and repeat.
And it's been the best jobs I've ever had.
