When I was in elementary school, I got bullied and teased quite a bit. I desperately wanted to fit in, and eagerly sought the approval of the children around me even though nothing I could have possibly done would have given it to me. At one point, on a dare, I decided to prove my worth by licking a flag pole. At this point, a scene played out in many a movie and television show is probably going through your mind. This was Minnesota in January, and your mental image would be accurate. I was a smart kid and I'm sure I knew better, but my desire to be liked outweighed the risk I perceived. I still remember the nice bus driver handing me a box of tissues as I stepped onto the bus, blood trickling down my chin after ripping my tongue angrily from the pole. I look back on it now and it's almost a bit cliché. However, it was also a lesson I only needed to learn once. Perhaps you have a similar story about touching a hot stove or poking a beehive (the honey-filled variety, not the globally dominating musical icon fan club)?
Our lives are filled with moments where a single experience or piece of information is more than enough to inform our decisions and future actions. The ability to learn from our mistakes is foundational to our humanity. In these individual instances, an n of 1 is more than sufficient to drive change. However, this philosophy doesn't always scale up to organizations all that well. The headlines are littered with examples of companies, universities, and governments that react very quickly to respond to singular incidents without stopping to put them in context. Many illogical policies and value statements have been born out of a perceived need to react swiftly and decisively to individual acts, regardless of whether that incident was indicative of larger concerns within the organization. The result is a hollow policy or practice without clear guidance on implementation or a clear understanding of why it is being done in the first place. We forget the incident, but we are left with the ill-conceived response that creates unnecessary work and headache for those attempting to implement it.
Now, I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't respond quickly to challenging situations. On the contrary, this is the moment where the policies and resource we have in place should be deployed swiftly and effectively to address concerns, distribute aid and assistance, and reinforce the principles within the organization that are already in place. Even if we don't have a legal obligation, we often have an ethical and moral obligation to act for the betterment of the individual and the community. This, however, is separate from hastily drafting new policies and mandates that will ultimately impact the organization far beyond a singular incident.
When we hastily react to an n of 1, we fail to consider whether or not patterns are present, underlying issues contributed to the problem, or if the breakdown was one of personnel, not policy. Do we really need a new policy, or do we simply need to do a better job of helping everyone understand the policy we have? Is this incident simply an unfortunate but predictable exception, since we know that no policy or process can be perfect and account for every variable?
It's increasingly hard to see the big picture and play the long game. The news cycle is only slighter shorter than the election cycle, and the "status quo" doesn't make headlines. Everyone feels as though they need to deliver the newest and most innovative, often without ever asking if it is needed or warranted. It can be challenging for leaders to take a step back and publicly state that they stand by the policies that are already in place and reinforce the principles that have already been espoused. It can sound to many like nothing is being done and it quickly gets painted as "they just don't care". However, we'd all do well to take a step back and look at the big picture, consider the presence of or lack of actual patterns, and critically examine how best to respond as a result. Sometimes a single student cheating is just that, a single student cheating. It doesn't mean we need to rethink how we teach at the university and draft a new honor code for everyone to sign. Sometimes an n of 1 is just that, an n of 1.
