I've spent more than twenty years working in the field of change; helping people and organisations to make sense of it, to adapt behaviours and achieve business goals. I have always taken care to listen to and engage with different audience groups. I've kept myself informed and connected with the wider industry. And I've learned valuable lessons from every transformation programme I've worked on. But I think it's safe to say that being in lockdown with my children has been the biggest education of them all.
Of course, COVID and crisis taught us all first; the change was swift, its purpose undeniable and even the law was on its side. Speed, necessity and fear of sanction have always had a role in driving change. However, within my own lockdown bubble, I've had a unique opportunity to observe how my children have instinctively navigated change. And it?s been enlightening.
Yes, children quite naturally follow the curve. All three of mine shared the shock and denial in the weeks leading up to lockdown ("They can't close down schools, surely they won't"), then cantered through anger and bargaining ("there's no way I'm doing lessons at home, I'll need a new laptop if they expect me to do that") towards (thankfully short-lived) depression as distancing took its hold. Finally, their focus shifted forward, marked by a flurry of timetable-printing and desk tidying, online chatting and video calling, as they realised that getting on with it was their only option.
This will come as no surprise to those who have long shared their own adaptation of the Kubler-Ross model (above) to help organisations through change. The model is strong and well worth its ongoing place in the change management toolkit. However, what has surprised me, and inspired and re-invigorated my own practical, professional approach to managing change, is how the children have progressed beyond the curve; taking back control and displaying positive, resourceful new behaviours.
As they came to accept change as inevitable, true to the curve, the children established their own habits and routines for dealing with their new normal. They started planning and organising themselves by printing out new timetables and sticking them on walls. Despite all three of them having different timetables, rituals like family mealtimes and evening rambles became focal points around which they negotiated their other priorities such as homework, chats with friends and screen time. In short, they made choices and put themselves back in control and, in so doing, reduced stress levels and rediscovered their motivation.
Once new routines became, well, routine, the next thing the children did was take the initiative to optimise their new situation. They minimised wasted time and frustration by moving wifi routers to get a better and more reliable connection. They pooled their knowledge and experience of new online tools with their friends so Zoom lessons and online collaboration happened with minimum fuss. Without the constraints of travel time and formal assemblies, they also worked out how to get their work done earlier or faster to create more space for downtime. In short, they made the system work for them.
Almost as soon as they'd learned to accept their new normal, my cunning homeschoolers started looking for ways to beat the system. They figured out how to get away with turning off cameras during Zoom calls so they could participate in pyjamas. They found novel justification for dropping the subjects they saw no value in continuing. The youngest even negotiated an Oreo treat as standard to get us both through maths without the threat of tears (mine and hers). If at first they accepted without question, they soon spotted opportunities for reasserting themselves and their independence from our fledgling rules of engagement.
After a period of being stimulated by asserting themselves and bucking the rules, boredom inevitably set in. But even as the children lost interest in a routine that was no longer new and a system they didn't yet trust, they also learned it wasn?t fun to just do nothing. There were no obvious rewards for apathy or avoidance, although sanctions loomed heavy. That's when curiosity slowly got the better of them. They advanced from doing the bare minimum to seeking out deeper knowledge on topics of interest, to trying new activities and distractions, to varying their routines and investigating the full capability of their online toolset. I won't lie, this stage wasn?t without stimulus: it took a campaign of constant and specific suggestion to light the touchpaper on the curiosity phase. But the return was worth the effort in terms of improved engagement and general energy levels.
We all know that change is an intensely personal process, and everyone will move through it at their own pace and in their own way. They will make choices based on their own circumstances, personality and preferences. My children have certainly followed their own individual paths to find that navigating lockdown has taught them self-reliance, whilst emerging from it has made them bold. Every change journey shapes you and that context is everything. Their journey through change has given them a better sense of themselves, how they work, what works for them, what they can and can?t influence and when to step up or back off. Guilty all too often of following a cookie-cutter approach to change, even professionals neglect to consider the personal growth that comes as a serious side-benefit of transformation programmes.
It was clear from the very beginning of this unusual change process that our children needed not just to be told the facts and taught a new way of working but to have the opportunity actively participate in the shaping of their new (lockdown) world. I'm happy to say that, as long as they knew broadly what the goal was and what was expected of them, my guys got stuck in. As a result, even as rules and dates and distances have changed week-by-week, they have instinctively modified their behaviours and routines, and risen to each challenge. This final lesson might not be a new one, but it's one that has been brought home (literally and figuratively) over the last twelve weeks - that's the power of involvement.
Everyone's working life changed with the pandemic but the only way our children would emerge sane, healthy and moderately well-educated from it has required more than simply showing them by our example. They had to experience it for themselves. And in turn, they have shown us a thing or two. Perhaps the hardest lesson to learn in change is to step back, observe, listen and trust in human nature - then let everyone just get on with it.
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