It’s June 1981.
I’m fifteen-year-old, and I’m about to get a giant slap in my face.
One event will soon condition how I approach success and failure for the rest of my life.
I was then one of the pioneers of the “Brevet des Collèges.”
For anyone unfamiliar with the French Education system, know it was the year they introduced this continuous assessment of knowledge and skills acquired at the end of the 9th grade!
I’m a bit nervous that day. I still have a few exams to determine a passing grade for the “Brevet,” and it’s uncharted territory for all of us.
One of these exams is in my least favorite discipline: artistic drawing.
Anyone who knows me well can attest that I’m very creative. They’ll also confirm that I have “two left hands” and that my drawing skills are rudimentary.
So, the examiner opens an envelope and unveils the topic we’ll have to create our best form of art on:
“You have one hour to create a drawing that expresses the end of the Spring season.”
I can already see neighboring students starting to draw bright sunshine and creating scenes full of life, flowers, and rising temperatures.
But I’m not falling for that easy trap.
My palms turn sweaty, my heartbeat accelerates, and my creative mind turns into overdrive.
Analogies collide in my brain: we are in 1981. Our society is changing. Mitterrand just got elected President. His socialist government nominated four communists to essential ministries. We’re still in the heart of the Cold War, and communism makes me think of the Iron Curtain, Eastern Europe, and the repression of the Prague 1968 Spring a few years before.
Eureka!
What a brilliant idea and inspiration. Let me draw that fateful event to illustrate the end of Spring.
After one hour, I’m satisfied with my charcoal-style art depicting a Soviet tank cruising on a deserted Czechoslovakian countryside road.
A few days later comes the verdict.
It’s an “F”!
The examiner didn’t appreciate my wild and unconventional interpretation of the “End of Spring.”
He just left a comment on my rejected creation: Off topic!
I took this to heart. But beyond the immediate disappointment, I eventually grew convinced that my non-conformist approach had some merit.
This venture in the off-topic territory was the first in a long series of deeper explorations of new ideas and perspectives that eventually helped me become a more decisive leader.
Over time, I realized that whenever I took an unusual approach to presented topics at work, it allowed for a more organic and natural flow of conversation. We could make new and unexpected connections. And often, we’d identify better solutions.
Rather than a failure, being off-topic became an opportunity to expand our understanding of the situations at hand and have the teams think harder and better.
The off-topic tactic became another tool in my leadership “kit.” I don’t use it every day, but when handled wisely, it serves me well.
You might still wonder whether I passed this famous “Brevet des Colleges” in 1981.
I did! With flying colors, thanks to stellar grades in math, history, and German language.
But I haven’t touched a drawing or sketching set since then!