This column has little to do with actual footwear — dress shoes if you have an office job, work boots if you’re a contractor, comfortable shoes if you’re on your feet all day or rubber boots if you work on a fishing boat.
It’s about walking in their shoes or, more specifically, walking and working in the shoes of people in other jobs. It’s about elected officials and office bosses who make decisions about the jobs and lives of other people.
What better way to make good decisions than to know what your employees deal with on the job, the problems, the rewards and especially how hard the work can be.
It’s not a new management practice, but it’s one that is increasingly needed — especially for elected officials who pass judgment based on what they are told by one side, or what they saw on social media, or what they heard from constituents who are not always impartial or knowledgeable about the job.
The late Herb Kelleher, who co-founded Southwest Airlines more than 50 years ago, won praise from the flying public, employees and stockholders for stepping out of his comfy office shoes and working as a baggage handler, ticket agent and in other roles at the counter, on the tarmac and in the stock room. He filled those shoes at least one day every quarter, learning what it took to do the jobs.
He set a good example for making informed decisions.
Supporters of the food stamps program, now called SNAP, have long advocated for elected officials to try living off the nutrition assistance program for a week or two, to better understand how hard it can be to feed a family. The Food Stamp Challenge has been around almost 20 years, trying to win over skeptics of the benefits program, particularly members of Congress who make budget decisions.
It’s a similar situation in the debate over public education funding in Alaska. Supporters of increased state funding work the whiteboards, letter-writing campaigns and Capitol hallways to educate legislative skeptics of the need for more money, smaller classes, more counselors, more programs and activities to better prepare students for work and life after graduation.
Last week, a mother of two children educated by the Juneau schools stood on the steps outside the Capitol to read a two-minute statement to no one in particular but for everyone to think about.
Rebecca Braun, a former journalist and policy analyst, asked what it says about Alaskans’ values when the state funding formula for public schools has not budged since 2017. She asked why state agencies get a raise in their budget numbers every year to cover inflation, but not schools.
“We cannot afford to pretend our schools can magically survive slow strangulation,” she said.
And then, probably without thinking about the former head of Southwest Airlines, Braun challenged “every legislator and policy maker in Alaska to substitute teach for one week, at any level, any school.” After working in a teacher’s shoes, “come back and tell us why our schools and our students don’t need or deserve to be at the top of our priority list.”
It’s a good idea.
I learned my lesson five years ago when I taught journalism at the University of Alaska Anchorage. I prepared lesson plans, assignments, and even baked cookies to connect with students. It was the toughest job I’ve ever had.
I learned two things from my short stint in front of the class. Teachers, whether in kindergarten or college, work hard and are demoralized by a lack of support from elected officials.
My other lesson was remorse. I felt bad for all those years in elementary and high school when I misbehaved in class and disrespected the teacher.
They deserved better from me, and they deserve better from budget writers.
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