 An experiment in supporting the role we rarely talk about
There’s a leadership role at the center of every nonprofit that we almost never talk about: the Board Chair. We talk about the CEO. We invest in leaders. We send Executive Directors to coaching, to fellowships, to retreats designed to help them grow, reflect, and try to stay sane. We’ve built entire sub-industries around supporting the person hired to run the organization. But the person responsible for managing that leader, stewarding the board, shaping the agenda, and holding the organization’s narrative during moments of growth or crisis? That person gets almost nothing. No map. No practice. No coaching. No peer group. Just expectations. Board Chairs sit at the nexus of strategy and execution, governance and operations, aspiration and capacity. They play an outsized role in:
So I’ve Been Wondering… What would it look like if Board Chairs had:
Introducing The Chair Project: My Next Workswell experiment This January, I’m exploring what structured support for Board Chairs might look like. Not a curriculum, not a certification, not a set of rules, but a practice and a space to explore what intentionally designed support for Board Chairs might look like. Over the next few months, I’ll be piloting a small coaching experiment with a handful of Board Chairs to see what emerges when we treat this role with the same intentionality we give executive leadership. I’m looking for 2–3 Board Chairs (or Executive Directors who want to nominate theirs) to participate in a no-cost, 6-week experiment that will include:
You don’t need to be struggling. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be curious. And Yes, There’s a Tee! Because no governance experiment should be joyless, each participant in the pilot will receive a (yet-to-be-designed) Chair Project t-shirt - minimalist, elegant, and just cryptic enough to be cool. Interested? If you’re a Board Chair or an Executive Director who wants to nominate one, send me a note at [email protected] . I’ll share a brief questionnaire to help select participants. I don’t know exactly what we’ll discover, but I’m excited to do some exploring with other motivated leaders. Welcome to The Chair Project. Let’s see what this seat can do.
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 This past summer, I officially joined the Interim Executive Solutions (IES) network — a community of interim executive directors, CEOs, CFOs, and CDOs who step into organizations during moments of leadership transition. Although I haven’t yet been placed through IES, I wanted to attend their annual retreat (which happened earlier this week), meet other interim leaders in person, and spend time in a room full of people who understand the strange, beautiful discipline of helping organizations navigate between what was and what’s next. Since coming home, I’ve been thinking about what stood out, and have landed on four themes: 1. Transitions are a normal part of organizational life. Not a failure, not a scandal to be contained, and not a frantic pause before the “real leader” arrives. Just a developmental stage that deserves clarity, structure, and care. 2. Boards are often exhausted before the transition even begins. After years of COVID, political whiplash, staff turnover, and the constant pressure to do more with less, many boards show up depleted. A surprising amount of interim work involves helping them reclaim their role, reconnect to purpose, and step back into meaningful leadership. 3. Interim leadership requires real emotional steadiness. Interims step into organizations at moments when people are often a mix of tired, worried, hopeful, and uncertain. Part of the work is helping teams navigate those emotions without losing momentum or clarity. 4. It’s a craft, not a hero's journey. What I appreciated most at the retreat was the complete absence of lone-wolf war stories. Instead, people shared practice: templates, frameworks, checklists, and the kind of grounded tools that make transitions go better for everyone. One small example: a simple “arc of engagement” tool that maps a transition as an entire journey — from the first quiet conversation about an executive’s departure, to staff and funder check-ins, to welcoming and supporting the new leader months after they start. On a single page, boards can see who needs to be engaged, when, and for what purpose. It’s deeply mundane, really just boxes on a timeline, but it turns an overwhelming, emotionally charged period into a series of concrete, doable steps. I've also settled on a few personal commitments that I want to carry forward as a result of the gathering - and figure I'm most likely to actually do them if I share them out loud here:
I left the IES retreat with a clearer sense of both the craft and the community behind interim leadership. The work we do - helping organizations move through uncertainty toward something steadier and more aligned - is real, skilled, and deeply necessary. If you’re navigating a transition, anticipating one, or simply curious about what healthy in-between leadership looks like, I’d love to talk. PS: No one who knows me will be surprised that I collaborated with the IES team to create an IES-branded Interim ED tee! The picture above is of IES Managing Partner David C. Harris and fellow interim Jay Voigt sporting theirs.  This past year, I got to participate in an extension of my Pahara Fellowship that was designed to deepen practices focused on personal identity and racial justice in the education sector, and included a chance to dive in on a case study exploring the “glass cliff.” For those unfamiliar with the term, the glass cliff refers to a phenomenon in which women and people of color (and particularly women of color) are promoted into leadership roles during moments of organizational crisis or instability, often without the structures and support they need to succeed. I was drawn to this case because so much of my consulting and interim leadership work these days lives in that same territory: the in-between moments of succession and transition, when systems are shifting, identities are evolving, and everyone is figuring out what comes next. Our group was multi-racial, and many participants (including me) had first-hand experience with transitions - some as outgoing leaders, some as those stepping into new roles, and others as colleagues navigating the ripples of institutional change. The conversations were rich, challenging, and deeply human. The experience wrapped up last week and I wanted to share a few key takeaways that really stood out for me. 1. Slow Down. The nonprofit sector is famous for its sense of urgency - an adrenaline-fueled conviction that everything must happen yesterday. But in the context of leadership transition, that urgency can do real harm. Rushing through a handoff almost guarantees that the deeper work of reflection won’t happen. An interim executive director can offer a designed pause, an intentional moment to steady the organization, clarify roles, and prepare for what’s next. This is especially important in founder transitions or when the leadership shift also represents a shift in identity, such as moving from a white leader to a leader of color. 2. Expect the Remodel. A major transition can be a bit like doing a kitchen remodel: once you start pulling out the cabinets, you discover the dry rot. Issues that were hidden suddenly come into view. Addressing every problem before the new leader arrives may not be possible, but boards have a responsibility to see what’s there, and to be honest about it. Transparency is both the respectful thing to do and the path most likely to lead to good outcomes. Pretending everything is fine only sets everyone up for disappointment later. 3. Boards Must Lead with Intention. A board’s role in an executive transition is perhaps its single most important responsibility. This is the moment when governance and culture intersect most visibly. If a board has especially strong ties to the departing leader, it’s worth naming that attachment and creating clear space for the incoming leader to lead. That might mean adjusting communication patterns, shifting committee structures, or simply recognizing that loyalty to the past can unintentionally limit the future. Leadership transitions are tests of an organization’s ability to act intentionally and of a board’s capacity to hold that intention steady. 4. Relationships Need Redesign Too. Leadership transitions aren’t just about people and positions; they’re about relationships. Funders, partners, and staff all experience change when a new leader arrives. Thoughtful communication and intentional handoffs matter. When boards and outgoing leaders design opportunities for new leaders to assume these relationships publicly and with support, they strengthen both confidence and continuity. When they don’t, isolation sets in fast. 5. Onboarding is Culture Work. Onboarding is real work. It takes time, attention, and care. Too often, organizations treat onboarding as a checklist rather than a process of relationship-building and cultural integration. Done well, onboarding is an act of care, signaling that the organization values the leader’s success and is committed to learning alongside them. It’s also a mirror: how a team welcomes new leadership says everything about its culture. 6. Build Your Own Kitchen Cabinet. Finally, being offered a leadership role can be both exhilarating and humbling. But in moments when you most need confidence, humility isn’t always your best strategy. For leaders stepping into high-stakes transitions - especially people of color entering situations that may carry elements of the glass cliff - building a personal kitchen cabinet can be invaluable. This group of trusted advisors, beholden only to you, can help navigate the negotiating, onboarding, and early decision-making phases of a new role. Their job isn’t to tell you what the board wants or what the staff expects - it’s to remind you who you are, what you stand for, and what you need to thrive. Closing Reflection The glass cliff isn’t inevitable. With care, pacing, and awareness, leadership transitions can become moments of growth and renewal rather than risk. They can be spaces where we learn to tell the truth about what’s broken, to slow down long enough to repair, and to create the conditions where new leaders can genuinely succeed. Transitions, at their best, are futures work: the rehearsal for the next version of who we’re becoming.  October is Bullying Awareness Month, prompting me to think about all that we’ve learned at Playworks over the years about how respect takes root: not through lectures or campaigns, but through play and human interaction. From the beginning, Playworks focused on helping children practice the skills that make communities work: teamwork, empathy, fairness, and respect. We weren’t created as an anti-bullying program, and yet when the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation funded a randomized control trial evaluation of our work, schools with Playworks saw a significant reduction in bullying behaviors.
An RWJF evaluation expert once told me that she believed this was because Playworks approached the challenge from a primary prevention perspective, changing the playground environment itself. Instead of relying on awareness campaigns or punishment after the fact, we focused on redesigning recess so that every child could experience safety, joy, and a sense of belonging. By transforming the context, we changed the culture. That insight continues to guide the work and feels extra important in this moment. Children learn how to treat one another by watching and practicing, and the behaviors we see in kids almost always reflect what they observe in adults. I’ve never been comfortable labeling a child a “bully.” They’re still learning what power, fairness, and respect look like in real life. When we model kindness and give kids opportunities to practice it every day, we help them build the habits of character that last a lifetime. That’s why I’m so thrilled that Playworks recently received a $10 million grant from the Lilly Endowment to deepen and expand our work helping adults create the conditions for children to develop the building blocks of strong character. This support will enable more children to experience play as a time when kindness is learned, community is built, and everyone has the chance to respectfully contribute. And because I like to commemorate milestones playfully, I’ve created a new tee to mark the moment. It honors Playworks’ original name, Sports4Kids, but with a twist. A student once asked why we were called Sports4Kids when the logo showed five kids. So this one’s for them, with all the proceeds benefitting Playworks: Sports5Kids - a reminder that there’s always room for one more in the game. You can get yours here!  I recently got back from my annual solo backpacking trip – this time 10 days in the Eastern Sierras. Like most backpackers, I think obsessively about the weight I’m carrying and pretty much always limit myself to two t-shirts for any trip. As you might imagine, when a person is going to spend a couple of weeks with just two t-shirts you give the selection of tees some thought. This summer I chose the Golden State Valkyries First of a Lifetime tee and my UC Berkeley Haas Staff t-shirt (both received comments by fellow hikers, namely “Go Valks!” and “Go Bears!”) Over the years I’ve chosen different shirts to reflect the moment – Playworks’ t-shirts, shirts from kids’ colleges (NYU and UBC being represented more than once), and Radcliffe Rugby has been a frequent choice. I have avoided political t-shirts of all persuasions because one of the best things about an extended backpacking trip is being completely divorced, however briefly, from our political realities.
You also have a lot of time to think on a backpacking trip and I spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time this trip thinking about t-shirts I have loved. I printed my first t-shirt up when I was a freshman in college – it was a purple tee and read Radcliffe Motocross. I sold this fictional team’s swag at the Head of the Charles and other occasional events for spending money (OK, beer) throughout my freshman and sophomore years until the tees ran out. Later, playing rugby after college, there were t-shirts for fundraising for our rugby tours, and when launching mocha and then Sports4Kids there were tees for those organizations and assorted related events. All of it got me thinking about how much I enjoyed designing and selling these t-shirts. And then it occurred to me that I could still do it. That this was potentially something that the interwebs made easy and low-risk in a goofy, don’t-take-yourself-too-seriously kind of way. Announcing Jill’s Tee Shop! Currently on the site are six tees. A re-do of the Radcliffe Motocross tee (the Jill tee original), a personal favorite of my Berkeley rugby shirts, a limited-time political shirt (which I won’t be wearing backpacking) announcing the upcoming No Kings 2 March on October 18 (all proceeds to benefit Indivisible). There’s a new tee for Interim Executive Directors, a Francophile Golden State Valkyries tee I’m hoping to wear to play-off games, and a more-than-slightly random tee that I wanted to make when I had small children (because what in the world do the lyrics from the Farmer in the Dell actually mean?!?) You can check them all out here. It's a prototype. I’m going to play with it. Add some shirts, include guest tees, maybe raise some money for things I care about (Playworks and mocha tees coming soon!) I appreciate you taking a look and I look forward to hearing what you think! Amanda von Moos and Jill Vialet, Substantial Co-Founders Almost nine years ago, we co-founded Substantial Classrooms with one overarching question: how might we get substitute teaching working better for kids and adults? Equipped with a deep belief in human-centered design and seed money from the Jenesis Group and the TJ Long Foundation, we set out to learn forward and figure out what might make a difference.
Today, we are celebrating that our most successful answer to that question – meaningful training in classroom skills – is becoming part of the National Center for Grow Your Own (NCGYO). As we pass on the stewardship and scaling of SubSchool to our incredible colleagues at NCGYO, we wanted to take the opportunity to reflect on what we’ve accomplished together and what’s next. We’ve always been a small team with big ambitions. Our journey together had three main chapters:
On July 1st, 2025 SubSchool will become part of NCGYO, fully operated by their team. NCGYO is a non-profit organization that provides technical assistance to state education agencies and school districts that are interested in launching “Grow Your Own” (GYO) programs. After years of advocating for subs to be recognized as a significant teacher pipeline – and creating the largest national survey of subs, verifying that 34% of subs aspire to be teachers – it’s exciting to see SubSchool championed by NCGYO. NCGYO is on a steep growth trajectory, and we’ve been impressed by how quickly they’ve become a national thought leader and key advisor to state education teams across the country. They are uniquely positioned to advance the idea that subs deserve training and support that prepares them for their current and future roles in education. With SubSchool on a path for scale with a trusted team, we will be wrapping up our daily operations at Substantial at the end of this school year. Over the next several months, our team will be working to ensure that we’ve made our key learnings publicly available on our website, which will remain active for at least three years. We’ve also learned quite a bit about a strategic nonprofit exit and making an asset transfer to another nonprofit, and we are pleased to be able to share this Nonprofit Strategic Exit Toolkit developed by a student team working with us from the UC Berkeley Haas Social Sector Solutions class this Spring. As nonprofit leaders, we work for impact and always hope that this impact extends beyond the projects we directly touch. There remains so much opportunity to fundamentally redesign how substitute teaching works. We hope that our work at Substantial inspires other people to center the humanity of subs and take up the challenge of making this essential system work better for kids and adults. We are so grateful for the people and organizations that believed in our work—that includes many of the people reading this! Thank you for being part of Substantial’s journey, and we look forward to collaborating with you in other ways in the future.  Working at Cal comes with some delightful perks: borrowing art from the Graphic Arts Loan Collection, swimming in the Strawberry Canyon pool in the summer, already having a parking spot when going to see a concert at The Greek. But hands down, my favorite benefit has been taking classes. Last spring, I dipped into Life Drawing (available to the public via the UC Berkeley Art Studio)), and this fall, I’m auditing the MBA Financial Accounting course.
Now, I get it — the thought of taking Accounting as an elective might make you say, “Huh?!” But I had two solid reasons. First, the instructor is Omri Even-Tov, the newly-named Faculty Co-Director of the Center where I’ve been interim-ing, CSSL. Omri’s won the Cheit Award for teaching excellence at Haas — twice — while teaching accounting. I’ve long believed that a great teacher can make just about anything interesting, and this seemed like the perfect test of that theory. Second, I’ve been thinking about joining a for-profit board, and while I’ve always been comfortable with Balance Sheets and P&Ls, I wondered if being self-taught, and mainly focused on nonprofit financials, might leave some gaps. So, here I am, diving into the deep end of debits and credits. We’re now in week 6 of 7, and I’m happy to report that the experience has far exceeded expectations. Reason one? Omri himself. Watching him teach has inspired me to up my own game — it’s like that moment in As Good As It Gets when Jack Nicholson says, “You make me want to be a better man,” except in my case, it’s “a better teacher.” Reason two? The whole experience has turned out to be an unexpected empathy exercise. Immersing myself in the world of first-year Haas students has been both fascinating and humbling. Admittedly, I’ve always liked school. I was good at it. But being back in a classroom, even as an auditor, can still stir up stress. I may not be taking this course for a grade, but there I was, sitting down to take the first quiz, heart racing, as if it would be graded. I’ve got a full-time job and some consulting clients, and sometimes I don’t get to the homework until the night before class (I see you, EWMBA students). The anxiety in the room was real, and it’s been a valuable reminder of what our students experience day to day. There’s also something wonderful about feeling more connected to the Haas community. I recognize people in the courtyard, say hello, and it feels like I’m just a little bit more plugged in. Universities can be siloed, and post-pandemic hybrid work schedules haven’t exactly helped that. So, this class has given me something unexpected — a stronger sense of belonging. As for Omri’s teaching, I can’t help but gush. He uses the Socratic Method, sure, but in a way that’s less “gotcha!” and more “let’s work through this together.” The class is impeccably organized, with weekly emails that are clear and concise. There’s a rhythm to the course — read the slides, do the practice problems, finish the homework — that makes everything feel seamless. And while Omri does cold-call, it doesn’t feel scary because the class is set up to make you succeed, not to trip you up. And then there’s the entertainment factor. Omri brings in quirky guest speakers, samples of random products, even unlikely music — all peppered with a healthy dose of Dad jokes and NBA references (as a basketball fan, I’m here for it!). His humor keeps the class fun, and his deep understanding of his students — from referencing their former employers in examples to weaving in shared interests — makes it clear that this is a student-centered experience. What’s really struck me, though, is how Omri and his GSIs create an environment where it’s safe to say, “I’m lost.” From sharing his own story about learning English as a non-native speaker to offering extra study sessions, quizzes with answer sheets, and frequent office hours, Omri has built a support system that shows his unwavering belief in every student’s ability to master the content. My mom, who’s 87, has been taking classes at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) in DC, and we often chat about what she’s studying and her instructors. OLLI is this amazing resource that not only delivers engaging content but also builds community — and I’ve realized through my experience this Fall that Omri’s class offers the same. It’s a beautiful reminder of how transformative learning can be when it’s done right, and what a gift it is to be able to be a lifelong learner.  We are launching the search for my successor at the Center for Social Sector Leadership (CSSL) today, so I figured this was a good time to check in on the interim-ing experience. I’ve been at Haas for almost eight months now and it feels both like a lot has happened, and like I’m still just figuring out how things work. I’ve wrapped up my second 90 day plan and have moved into my third, and looking back at those documents, along with the bi-weekly memos that I’ve been sending to the board co-chairs, provides a helpful framework for assessing my progress and the areas where I still feel like there is work to be done. There’s a game I like - generally played at the end of the day or to wrap up an activity - where you reflect on an experience by calling out something that delighted you, something that surprised you, and something that inspired you. With my experience at CSSL, I’ve been delighted by my ability to bring my network to bear in supporting both the organization and the people associated. Introductions, recruiting organizations to participate in our board fellows and social impact consulting programs, and nominating folks for fellowships (congratulations to Krutika Menon!) have been a blast. When I got into interim-ing I was initially focused on bringing my nonprofit leadership experiences to bear in helping organizational transitions and I was imagining more of a maven role in the Malcolm Gladwell Tipping Point taxonomy. Being a connector has been a delightful bonus. The CSSL ED job is a delightful manifestation of the Maya Angelou quote: "I do my best because I'm counting on you counting on me." The surprise probably shouldn’t continue to be such a surprise, but the pace and processes of higher ed – and a big, state institutional version of higher ed at that - takes a lot of getting used to. My reaction to the various ways in which unexpected processes show up has morphed during my tenure as the interim ED – from confusion to outrage to wry amusement and creative acceptance. There’s undoubtedly a danger in that – workarounds as the default are hard on a culture (h/t to Jennifer Pahlka). But I do see that there is also a way in which the randomness of some protocols has helped me to take myself less seriously and to adopt a more sanguine approach to getting things done. Finally, on the inspiration front, I think it’s a tie between the people (getting to work with the students, staff and faculty has been a great reminder that there is a very real and collective desire to be a part of something bigger than oneself) and the sense that an intentionally designed interim process can really make a difference (shout out once again to Third Sector and the Interims Executive Academy) . I set out eight months ago to do six super sexy things: to create a fundraising plan and identify some shorter term fundraising opportunities, to support and stabilize the staff, to steady some of the organizational systems and practices, to improve internal and external communications, to support new programs and to lead a search process. We have made some progress in the first five areas (though I am getting my butt kicked in my effort to navigate the UC finance system), and I am genuinely excited to turn to the task of leading the search process. Just as a teacher’s success is measured not in the teaching but in the learning that ensues, I’m convinced that the success of an interim has to be measured in the experience of her successor. I would be deeply grateful if you would share the official job description (here) along with the job profile we created (here).* If you are interested in the role, or know someone who might be, I’m happy to chat. I’m working with a really great search committee from CSSL’s Advisory Board (Sally Carlson, Dwayne Marsh, Linda Wood, Lynne Heinrich, Bob Miller and Nora Silver ex-officio) and we are collectively committed to creating a great process for all who participate in the goal of finding the right next leader for CSSL. I’m imagining that every interim gig will be slightly different, but there is something particularly exciting/terrifying about doing it all for the first time. I still have a lot of work to do to ensure that the transition goes smoothly, but this inflection point feels a little like the moment in which I begin to let go even more. Many thanks for following along and thanks too for your help in getting the word out about the search. *see above re workarounds
 It’s been just over two months since I started as the interim Executive Director at the Center for Social Sector (CSSL) at UC Berkeley’s Haas School of Business. The title is a mouthful, which I’ve noticed occasionally makes me hesitant to actually talk about what I’m doing. But I wanted to take a moment to talk about it here. Out of respect for the people involved, I won’t be going deeply into the specifics, but I have had some more general observations about “interim-ing” that I'd like to share.
The first thing I’ve noticed – and this is not at all revelatory – is that the humans really are the thing. They are the very best part, and simultaneously, the part that makes things tricky. I initially structured my role as interim ED with a proposed scope based on two interviews with the Center’s Faculty Director and Advisory Board Co-Chairs. Over the initial thirty-day assessment phase I was able to check my assumptions and revise the scope to create a 90 day workplan. Most of this assessment time was spent meeting with people: the Center’s staff, faculty and Advisory Board members, with a few alumni calls thrown in for good measure. While I expected to enjoy this exploratory phase, I didn’t fully anticipate how much I would enjoy it. The people have been really wonderful – interested and interesting, genuinely willing to lean in and help, curious, caring and generous. Also, they are hopeful - about the potential for the Center and the value of this transition period. It may reflect a blinding mastery of the obvious, but so far the best part of being an interim has been the chance to meet new people who are committed to something bigger than themselves. My second reflection, and again, not entirely surprising, is that working in a University system is really different. As in, “I have landed on an entirely new planet” different. While being an interim makes this part of the experience manageable, it also makes me feel a keen sense of responsibility to whoever succeeds me. To that end, I’ve found it useful to imagine a specific human as my successor – someone whom I actually know. When I’m making a decision, or having a hard conversation, or thinking about what to do next, it has been extremely useful to think to myself, “Would I feel OK turning this situation over to (let’s call them) Jordan?” Whoever my successor is, they’re going to have to navigate this particular situation. And while I believe this would apply to any situation and in any work culture, being in the University context has made me acutely aware that my job is to do what I can while I’m here to set the next leader up for success. The third and final thing about interim-ing that really stands out is that it feels absolutely essential that I not lose my focus on driving things forward. As an Executive Director, one always feels pressure to keep one’s eye on key objectives, but being an effective interim feels like it requires an even greater degree of diligence. This is not like a design cycle in which one alternates between periods of focus and flare. This is all focus. And it is requiring a level of discipline that feels extra. I've been surprised that while standing meetings with other staff help, the biggest accountability structure has been my bi-monthly meetings with the Board co-chairs. Every two weeks I send them a write up on what’s been accomplished in the previous fourteen days and then we meet for an hour to discuss. These memos and meetings have come to serve as a real forcing function for me - compelling me to check in with myself around where I am against my 90 day workplan and where I need to pay more attention. The CSSL Board operates in an advisory capacity – it isn’t a fiduciary board – so this is a bigger ask than I think has been historically made of the chairs. I’m pretty sure they are experiencing it as a lot, but I’m also confident they recognize how helpful our conversations are to the process. I have definitely come to see my success in this role in terms of the momentum I am able to build - and then hand over – to my successor. Working in this way with the board co-chairs feels essential to building and maintaining this momentum. Finally, one of my current 90 day plan goals is to have a revised job description for the Center’s Executive Director position by the end of the May, kicking off the next phase of work which will focus more on coordinating the search. I'm looking forward to sharing this job description with all of you. I still have a lot to learn, and I’m genuinely excited - and curious – to see where this adventure takes me next. Thanks for joining me - and please don't hesitate to reach out if you're exploring interim-ing yourself, or have any other questions or suggestions.  Today is my first official day as Interim Executive Director for UC Berkeley’s Center for Social Sector Leadership (CSSL), within the Haas School of Business. CSSL supports leadership opportunities for students interested in achieving social impact. I’ve collaborated with the Center over the past few years – as a nonprofit CEO whose organization benefited from the Bears on Board program and more recently teaching a course on Social Entrepreneurship for undergraduates. Nora Silver, the Center’s founder and Faculty Director, had reached out to me about serving as the Interim ED after spotting my LinkedIn post announcing my availability as an Interim leader, post-completion of Third Sector’s Interim Executives Academy.
I’ve been thinking a lot about “interim-ing” as a theoretical construct, so it is both exciting and a bit nerve-wracking to actually begin doing it. I am hyper-aware of how the role is distinct from a traditional ED job and curious to see how I do in resisting old patterns and simply falling into doing what I know. I am hopeful my prior experience will be useful, but concerned that as I bring that to bear, I do so in service of building CSSL's organizational capacity. One of the books that sparked my interest in interim roles was Arthur Brooks's From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life. I am a somewhat unlikely Arthur Brooks fan, and yet the book really captured my imagination – specifically his explanation of the psychological concept of crystallized vs. fluid intelligence. Since stepping down as CEO at Playworks in 2020, I have worked on a number of interesting and engaging projects, and I was deeply appreciative of the flexibility to be present with my father as he was dying and now, to support my mom in the aftermath of that. Over the past several months, I began feeling the need to be more deeply connected in the world and to more concretely contribute. Brooks's book offered vocabulary about those feelings - namely a pressing need to be more useful. I’ve had many conversations over these past couple of years around leadership transitions and succession planning. We're in a moment of upheaval for the nonprofit sector with a record number of founders retiring and a much-needed focus on increasing BIPOC leadership. Transitions are, by definition, periods of great vulnerability, and these shifts in our sector both deserve and require a level of attention and intention that set new leaders and organizations in transition up to succeed. It is simply not an option to do this half-heartedly and then shake our collective heads in disappointment that it didn’t work out. Today, I am setting out to be an interim ED at a center dedicated to understanding social sector leadership with an eye to learning, amplifying the potential for good in the transition process, and connecting with others who are interested in doing the same. I’m bound to make some mistakes along the way and am hoping to have some fun, too. I invite you to connect, follow along and make suggestions. I am convinced that this is an important capacity for our sector to master and that we are most likely to achieve that mastery together. Wish me luck – and Go Bears! |
