We Move

As I’m mentally starting to shift to the new job, I just got hit by another wave of anxiety. Did I make the right choice? What have I done? Why did I leave somewhere safe?

I know they’re all irrational reactions, a defense mechanism. But as humans, they’re hard-wired into our brains and nervous system. Change is hard, and change is dangerous. At least, that’s what our instincts tell us.

I’m going to have a 90±5 mile one-way commute. That feels like a very convenient excuse to run away and call this whole thing off, crawl with my tail between my legs to beg for my old job back, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

That’s still just an excuse, though, and would do more damage than good.

A role like this doesn’t come around often. I know. I’ve personally experienced that since I’ve been applying, sometimes interviewing, and most frequently getting rejected for these roles for the last 12-15 years. Only once did I get a second interview AND an offer.

I ended up declining because I realized it wasn’t the job I wanted. It was only that specific business unit that I wanted to join. That wasn’t enough, given the other trade-offs required by the organization as a whole.

I’d all but given up when my last opportunity in November of ’24 ended up with the same proverbial door closed in my face, made even worse considering that it was within my own department, then being told “no, you’re not good enough to unseat the person who was already tabbed for the job before any of this even started. But thank you for participating in the courtesy interview.”

Soon after, my connections and professional network came through for me (again). I got clued into this new opportunity weeks before it got publicized. During the pros/cons phase, I had to weigh how much the biggest con (the commute & distance) compared to the biggest pro (the documented, official leadership role and title that I’ve been told over the years that my résumé lacked).

When the entire process concluded and I had the unofficial job offer on the table in front of me, I waffled a moment. I think I made the executive director a bit nervous at that point because he knew the drive time was a big concern, when weighed also with my family obligations.

In the past, I’ve either skipped postings or even outright declined offers to even just talk based solely on commute time. I’d gotten very comfortable with driving 11 miles, none of which on a highway, and being home in less than a half-hour. I had artificially limited myself to considering opportunities only within the local area. That backfired on me as there were few, if any, available. Those that were available were significant steps back at worst and a lateral move at best, and the very few that met professional growth criteria just meant that my applications were rejected or ignored anyway.

I raised this again with my wife. She shared my hesitation since she had worries of her own about all of this. But we also knew, based on my history of rejection, that I’d never get an opportunity like this again before I retire from K-12. All of those years of districts saying “no” because:

  • I didn’t already have a line in the rez with the title “manager,” “supervisor,” or director.
  • I wasn’t technical enough, having not been a network engineer along with people leader along with DBA along with certified project manager.
  • I was too technical. I wasn’t a former classroom teacher or principal who just happened to have a “passion for technology.”
  • The district knew they couldn’t afford me or afford to keep me, even if I accepted a salary downgrade just to get the job.
  • The district already intended to promote a specific person to the role, but needed to field applications and give a certain number of interviews to make it look less nepotistic.

I started feeling that while I’m not blind to the political landscape of human resources, I may have been too naive. I hit the professional ceiling and felt like those years of sacrifice in school to improve my chances of professional growth — both myself and my family — was a waste of time, emotion, and now the albatross of the Ancient Mariner that is my student loan.

So how can I run away now? If I run, then I’m back to exactly where I was. Those two paragraphs before the list above. And the difference is that there will not be any more chances. Plus there’s the cascading effect that my leaving is having on both the organization and the colleagues I’m leaving behind. It’s finally woken the organization up to what we’ve been wringing hands about for years. Just unfortunate that it’s taking my departure to spur them into realizing it and snapping out of the complacency that we’ve frankly enabled.

I was hired for a reason. I made it through about six weeks of the process to get to this point and each of the checkpoints in those six weeks. In a way, K-12 is like professional sports. There is a limited number of spots on a team roster or front-office managerial positions or coaching spots. And there’s always someone coming up from behind, ready to take your job from you. Creating new jobs or even expanding the headcount for a job role doesn’t happen very regularly, if at all.

That I made it to this point is, I have to remember, a testament to my professionalism and my experience. Just because a friend let me know this job was coming doesn’t mean my friend got me this job (he’d done me the same favor years ago for a different role at this organization, but I didn’t even make it past the initial phone screen then).

So I’ll make the drive. I’ll work to earn the trust that they’ve shown in me by offering me the job. We’re in the job of educating kids, so I’ll bring my experience, my philosophy, and my professional connections to help. I’ll stumble along the way, certainly, but I won’t run away.

Cliches to Make Your IT Life Better

Two simple cliches that have improved my life over the years:

There’s gotta be an easier way.  This means that no matter what problem you’re trying to solve, you’ll probably find yourself deep in the weeds and overgrowth at some point.  That’s when you have to stop and say “there’s gotta be an easier way to do this,” because there is. You just have to find it, and finding it means reevaluating what you’re doing and what you’ve done.  What you’ve been doing is clearly not the easy way if you’re at this point.  Which leads to the next one.

Make the computer do the work.  That’s what they’re built for!  Automating repetitive tasks, which they’ll do much faster and more accurately anyway.  As OSes and software grow and advance, more automation is built in.  Learn them and take advantage of them.  If you’re doing things manually all the time, you’re doing it wrong.

Specializing or Generalizing?

We humans have a limited amount of resources available for pretty much anything. Whether it’s money, time, energy, general give-a-darn, we don’t have infinite amounts of it. There is no limitless supply of money/time/energy/give-a-hoot waiting in the wings, available for anytime we need it.

So too does that apply to determining what to do with one’s IT career.

In the distant past, when technology was still new, and support was in its infancy, we IT pros had to generalize to survive. We were expected to know everything about everything — networks, operating systems, software, cabling, databases, security, programming. You name it, we were expected to know it. And what was the end result?

Mediocrity.

The problem is that we have limited time and ability to learn all there is to know about everything within the time constraints we’re given. In the analogy of the ice cube tray, our resources are illustrated by a pitcher of water (not a faucet). From that pitcher, we can choose two paths:

  1. Fill all the cube receptacles all at once and see what level they reach, or
  2. Fill each receptacle sequentially, knowing that there will be empty cells.

With #1, we ensure that every cell or receptacle or cup as at least some water. With #2, we ensure that we can fill as many as possible to the top, but we know that others at the end will remain empty.

This is the illustration of generalization (#1) vs. specialization (#2). So which is “better?”

That all depends on your own set of values. Personally, as a student of life, I love to know a bit about everything so that if a topic ever comes up in conversation, I can participate to some degree. I love science. I can discuss some literature, art, and music. I play a few instruments. I know quite a bit of history. I can teach someone the basic fundamentals of calculus using AD&D terminology.

But I’m far from an expert in any of those fields. This is because I filled my ice cube tray from that pitcher all at once, to try to get some water in at least every cell.

I know some brilliant musicians, but who are terrible at cooking. I know phenomenal artists who are awful at math. And of course, I know plenty of savant-like IT people in various specialties who are clearly deficient in other areas of life.

These are the people who’ve concentrated on filling one cell in the ice cube tray from the pitcher at a time, to make sure that they are using all the available resources to fill that one cell to the top before moving on to the next.

Now, obviously, there are pros and cons to both approaches. Neither is better than the other, because again, it all depends on what you value more. As an IT professional, generalization does make it a bit more difficult to land that prestigious job or even do some more focused job searching, while the specialist knows what he or she is targeting and what to get….but the opportunities are further and fewer in between.

The generalist can probably find more opportunities to submit applications, but yield fewer interviews or offers. The specialist may find very few application opportunities, but the ones they do land, interviews almost seem to happen right away. The generalist might have greater flexibility in moving from field to field while the specialist is stuck in a handful of areas of expertise.

There are benefits and drawbacks to both approaches. Which you select depends on what you value more, and your tolerance for risk.