From Corporate Counsel to Education Evangelist--One Man's Journey

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."
—Frederick Buechner

I was a corporate lawyer for almost fifteen years. After graduating from Northwestern University School of Law in 1990, I was recruited by a large insurance defense firm in Los Angeles. I had a lovely corner office with a big mahogany desk in a new high rise building on Figueroa Avenue. My office was right down the hall from the managing partner who liked to tell me with genuine enthusiasm, “Mike, you’re going to be a partner at this firm!” That was gratifying.

But I felt strangely disconnected. Every day I drove by a stunning number of poor, addicted and homeless people (one of the unfortunate realities of life in Los Angeles), people who looked like me, people who but for the vagrancies of fate could have been me, and I thought—What am I doing? Making the world safe for insurance companies? It was a strange, surreal existence.

So I returned to Chicago and began working with small to mid-sized, privately-held corporate clients. While the work was intellectually stimulating, what truly motivated me was the sense (or at least the hope) that I was a part of building and sustaining something meaningful; something good. At our core, I think we all want the same thing—to feel relevant—and I hoped I was at least a small part of maintaining and protecting something that created jobs, opportunity, revenue and, yes, relevance.

I felt good about that.

One of the unexpected benefits of serving as corporate counsel for a small to mid-sized company is that I often worked directly with business owners. This was an extraordinary opportunity. Although working in this capacity is not always easy (business owners are often on the razor’s edge; they have to be), the one constant shared by these business owners, and the trait I most admired about all of them (at least when I wasn’t getting yelled at), was the fact that they were, to a person, visionaries and creators. They were the “big picture thinkers” and “meaning makers” referred to by Dan Pink is his ground-breaking book “A Whole New Mind.” (If you haven’t read this book, you should). What inspired me is that these were people who made something. That takes no small amount of moxie and genius.

As I approached my 40th birthday in December of 2005, this kept gnawing at me. I would lie awake at night, stare at the ceiling and think—what have I created? What have I built? How have I, through my industry and hard work, made an impact on the world? Is this world a better place because of me?

I could only say this—I had tried, as best I could, to be a good son, a good student, a good lawyer and a good father. But the question kept coming around—what have I created? I thought, if called to task for my life, if asked to account for how I spent my time and used the gifts I was given, how would I answer? What would I say?

And the more I thought about this, the more I realized that I didn’t like the answer.

At this point, I knew something had to change. I couldn’t do what I had done anymore. I couldn’t just be a guy who “crafted contracts” (another Dan Pink reference). I had to do more. I had to create something; to build something.

I just didn’t know what.

I didn't know how.

********

Soon after my 40th birthday, I requested a meeting with Steve Baker, the president of my company, Smart Technology Services. Steve and I have known each other and worked closely together for years so I felt fairly comfortable approaching him with what I suspected would sound like a fairly odd proposal.

I remember sitting in Steve’s office, clearing my throat, and saying something like: “Steve, I don’t want to be just the lawyer anymore.” I told Steve about my desire to build something. To create. I told him about my idea.

Smart Technology Services is an IT support firm. One of our biggest clients is Chicago Public Schools. We provide a host of IT support services for CPS, all of which are critically important, but do not necessarily improve the quality of education itself.

My idea, loose and ill-defined, was that we could help bridge some of the educational and digital divides that existed in our city and our schools if we did a better job of integrating more computers into the classroom. I didn’t really know why this would help bridge anything, I just thought—I use a computer everyday, so does everybody else I know, and maybe if our classrooms looked more like the real world that our schools are trying to prepare these kids for, it might make a difference.

I remember getting about halfway through what must have sounded like a disjointed mess of a proposal before Steve held up his hand and said “Stop Mike.” He looked me in the eye…paused….and said…..

“You’re fired.”

Just kidding.

No, Steve said something that really surprised me. He said, “I don’t want you to worry about putting computers in the classroom.“ He continued: “I want you to start with this—start by understanding how children learn. Start there. Understand that.”

He told me to take as much time as I needed and to write a white paper that focused on how children learn and how we could better engage this generation of students in the process of learning. He told me once I understood that—how children learn—we could then talk about how computers supported those educational needs, if at all.

He ended with this. He told me if we were serious about improving education, and not just pushing hardware and software, we had to begin and end by focusing on education. If we focused on anything other than that, we were no more than “empty vessels” and “product pushers.”

The only guide he gave me was this—he told me about some fascinating research on the benefits of “constructivist education.” But that was it. The scope of the white paper would be mine. The conclusions of the white paper would be mine. The product would be mine. My task, my charge, was to create this white paper that focused on how children learn. Then Steve politely kicked me out of his office. He didn’t want me worrying about the technical stuff. He didn’t want me worrying about computers, cables and connectivity. He didn’t want me to worry about how the company made money or would make money with this. He wanted my singular focus on unlocking one door—how do children learn?

I walked out of Steve’s office and clearly remember looking at my hands.

What have you created?

I would create this. This white paper. I would try and understand how children learn. By starting there, by understanding that, I would the better understand how we could help our children, impact our schools and truly make a difference.

And so began my journey. The most important journey of my life.

A journey that continues to this day.

A journey I intend to share with you.