Strong relationships grow from small daily interactions. Recognizing and responding to bids strengthens trust, engagement, and leadership.

Two seeds were buried side by side in a field. The seeds—Amara and Brio—lay dormant, dreaming of the sky. One day, a gentle rain whispered promises of growth. Amara felt the call of the world above and thought, “It may be time to sprout. But what if the sun is too harsh, or the rain too scarce? What if I emerge too soon?” Fearful, Amara decided to wait. Beside Amara, Brio also heard the rain’s song. Excited, Brio thought, “What wonders await above! Yes, there might be storms

From an early age, many of us are taught to view career success through the lens of pay and promotion. This perspective, which is deeply ingrained in our cultural fabric, positions financial gain and hierarchical advancement as the primary objectives of professional life. Society, media, and even educational narratives have long championed this view, painting a picture of success that emphasizes ascending the corporate ladder and achieving monetary wealth as the hallmarks of

Imagine two professionals on the same team. Both are smart. Both care about doing good work. The first is highly competent. Their work is accurate, efficient, and technically strong. They meet expectations consistently, but spend little time building relationships beyond what is required to get tasks done. The second is also competent. Not exceptional at everything, but solid and reliable. In addition to doing the work, this individual invests time in relationships. They prio

When I was in college, I watched the TV series The West Wing . Characters would get into intense, sometimes heated disagreements about high-stakes issues. Voices were raised. They’d argue over fundamental principles. And then, often in the very next scene, those same people would work together civilly, almost as if nothing relational had been damaged. At the time, I was skeptical. I wondered whether that kind of behavior actually happened in real workplaces, or whether it was

Every semester, when course evaluations are released, I feel a mix of anticipation and curiosity. I genuinely enjoy reading them. It is meaningful to see how students describe their experience and what they took away from the course. Those comments remind me why I am an educator. And then something predictable happens. I can read 20 positive comments and feel encouraged by them. But one critical comment will often stick with me far longer than the rest. For a long time, I tho

Open and honest questions create space for people to think, feel, and make sense of their own experience. I learned the value of this approach at home before I ever applied it in a professional setting. For many years, when my wife started to describe a problem, my instinct was to solve it. My attention focused on diagnosing the issue and responding with suggestions, based on the belief that helping meant offering answers. Over time, I realized that much of the time my wife w