This is a reflection on my first resignation in late 2006, nearly 18 years ago, that I found today while looking for a document in my attic. I had graduated college only a few months prior and was only two months into my role as Instructional Technology Coordinator at a prestigious liberal arts school in my hometown. It felt like an incredibly fortuitous place to land when I got the job.
Just as I’ve anchored to “psychological safety” this year as a key concept I was dancing around forever but didn’t have a term for, this appears to be when I first anchored to the idea of “ownership”, which I now more commonly frame as a “team of stakeholders”. I wrote about the consequences of screwing it up just last week in “owner insecurity“.
I doubt I gave this to my boss — It feels more likely I drafted it for the inquiring CTO — but I can tell it’s authentically from that moment because it’s imbued with young-Linc unfiltered earnestness. I present it unedited below. I found it without greeting or sign off.
I’ve been thinking about my rationale for resigning a lot recently, as you might expect. I’ve had some trouble articulating it in various circumstances for some time now, but I just remembered the word I was looking for: ownership.
I did outstanding work at Juniata over three years because I was given ownership of the projects I worked on.
When it was time to develop a one-on-one training system after only my first month (at the end of my freshman year), I was given a broad set of goals and asked to design the system. I reviewed it with my supervisor for input, but it was my project from day one. When it was time to implement it, I asked to code it from scratch (despite not knowing how to at the time) and was allowed to. It turned into a system that is still used today.
When I was asked to run two week-long summer camps after only four months on the job, it was my project. I designed the curriculum, handled advertising, built a web presence, administrated the camp, and coordinated it with Campus Events. I conferred frequently with my supervisor who often worked with me to make course corrections, but it was my project.
When it was time to implement a new online forum solution for Juniata, it was my project. When I was made the Training Manager, it was my job to design and implement the entire public technology training roster for a year. When I was made Teaching Learning Technology Manager, it followed the same pattern with larger responsibilities.
In all of these instances I worked as part of a larger team, but the tasks assigned to me were entrusted to me and I was responsible for their outcome.
When I talk to people about how the student-run model at Juniata works so famously better than in other places, I tell them it’s ownership. Just as I was empowered by my supervisors, I planned and thought for hours and hours how to instill a sense of ownership in the students I supervised, and I believe I was ultimately successful. They performed work on a level with professional staff, and I believe a sense of ownership made the difference. They owned the lab they worked in. They owned the ideas that came out of it. They owned the assignments they were given, and had the freedom to implement creative solutions, even at the risk of failure.
I believe so strongly that this is critical to any endeavor it’s why I resigned.
I had no ownership of ATS. My coworkers have no ownership of ATS. My supervisor holds onto that ownership tightly. I do not pretend to understand or critique his motives for doing so, but that is the situation as I see it. While our ideas are solicited, we know we no longer own the idea once given. It belongs to our supervisor, and he will decide what is to be done with it. They are not our decisions; they are decisions made by someone else after our input is given. The difference sounds subtle, but there is a chasm between the outcomes.
A piece of ownership is what I worked so hard for five years to acquire in the website I now co-own and plan to develop. It’s the foundation of my success at Juniata, and I am convinced it will be the foundation of my success in the future. Many good things come out of ATS and great people work here. Despite this, I believe it will be hobbled as long as it lacks this critical element. It is something I cannot be an effective employee without and something I cannot change from my current position. At this stage of my life, I value being an effective employee more than I value my wage and benefits and this has brought me to this conclusion.
Franklin & Marshall spent a lot of resources on me before I realized what I valued most in a job, and for that I apologize but am grateful. My alma mater is Juniata, but Franklin & Marshall contributed to my education in a critical way. Again, thank you for the opportunity.