I whizzed up the staircase, dodging the sea of students descending towards me. Caught up in my thoughts, I barely heard the whisper of a voice behind me. A gentle tap on the shoulders brought me back to reality. Ms. Learner, my publications teacher, smiled sincerely up at me. The wide frame of her glasses hung low on her nose, her short, choppy hair was pulled back, and she was dressed in her routine black-on-black ensemble. 'Can I have a word?' she inquired in her tender tone. I nodded frantically, as I composed a mental list of the things I needed to complete before my next class. 'As you know, we're in the process of electing our Yearbook editorial team, and I think you should give serious thought to applying for Art Director.' I smiled at her politely, quickly said I would, and rushed off as the bell chimed above me.
A few days later, I walked into the yearbook room, application in hand. I scanned the white room, the walls plastered with layout ideas, yearbook themes, and displays of encouraged design. I spied a drop box in one corner and slid my application in. I took my usual seat and let my mind wander.
It wasn't so long ago that I sat uneasily in a plastic red chair, my clammy hands gripping on for dear life. My parents sat, poised, beside me. Ms. Tracy took a long breath, her firm tone softening. "Aanya is a quiet force in my class. I would like to see her offer her insights by speaking aloud more often." Her feedback was on par with what most of my teacher's said about my 7th grade self. I was quiet.
I was pretty much that quiet girl for most of my school career. That is, until I walked into the graphic design room as a freshman. Design gave me my identity.
Four years later, I still sit in the same chair, in the same room, but the diffident girl who once sat there, has gone through a metamorphosis.
I ended up getting the post of Art Director. I was thrilled. I, perhaps naively, thought I had reached the summit. I was at the top of the mountain and it could only get easier from here. Much to my surprise, the climb had only just begun.
I quickly learnt that its hard to please everyone. Every one of my designers, was passionate, talented, brimming with ideas, and steadfast in their aesthetics. We found it hard to merge our different tastes, to create a cohesive look for the book. We had fifteen days to deliver, sixty-four pages to create and 3,200 people to please. We had reached a stalemate. We needed to rope together in order to reach the summit. And I had just the thing to help us get there.
That evening at home I armed myself with my weapons and got to work. I pulled my apron tightly around my waist, pulled out the flour and prepared myself to whisk vigorously. Two hours later I emerged from the battlefield victorious, with a batch of freshly baked cupcakes. I'm a notorious stress baker. I've been known to combat the most difficult of situations with a whisk and rolling pin. There's just something about beating together those eggs that helps relieve the stress. I also do some of my best problem solving in the kitchen. As I watched the cupcakes rise, I mulled over the roadblocks we as a team had reached. We needed to band together and feed off each other's energy. We needed to find what made us tick and act on that.
The following day, I gathered my team around the table. As they devoured the cupcakes (some in an amazing single bite) we reflected upon what needed to be done. We perhaps had to leave behind our own aesthetics in order to produce a book that pleased a majority. We set deadlines, outlined goals and came to the conclusion that our room had to be an "ego-free" zone. They also (somehow) cornered me into a once-a-week baking pledge.
In the end, we produced a beautiful book. Looking back at my journey, its hard to ignore the fact that leadership, while empowering, can often also be humbling. It is both a privilege and a challenge. One often has to put aside personal preference, in order to draw out the best from a team. For aren't all conflicts solvable by finding a common sense of purpose? And, if all else fails, cupcakes to the rescue.
A few days later, I walked into the yearbook room, application in hand. I scanned the white room, the walls plastered with layout ideas, yearbook themes, and displays of encouraged design. I spied a drop box in one corner and slid my application in. I took my usual seat and let my mind wander.
It wasn't so long ago that I sat uneasily in a plastic red chair, my clammy hands gripping on for dear life. My parents sat, poised, beside me. Ms. Tracy took a long breath, her firm tone softening. "Aanya is a quiet force in my class. I would like to see her offer her insights by speaking aloud more often." Her feedback was on par with what most of my teacher's said about my 7th grade self. I was quiet.
I was pretty much that quiet girl for most of my school career. That is, until I walked into the graphic design room as a freshman. Design gave me my identity.
Four years later, I still sit in the same chair, in the same room, but the diffident girl who once sat there, has gone through a metamorphosis.
I ended up getting the post of Art Director. I was thrilled. I, perhaps naively, thought I had reached the summit. I was at the top of the mountain and it could only get easier from here. Much to my surprise, the climb had only just begun.
I quickly learnt that its hard to please everyone. Every one of my designers, was passionate, talented, brimming with ideas, and steadfast in their aesthetics. We found it hard to merge our different tastes, to create a cohesive look for the book. We had fifteen days to deliver, sixty-four pages to create and 3,200 people to please. We had reached a stalemate. We needed to rope together in order to reach the summit. And I had just the thing to help us get there.
That evening at home I armed myself with my weapons and got to work. I pulled my apron tightly around my waist, pulled out the flour and prepared myself to whisk vigorously. Two hours later I emerged from the battlefield victorious, with a batch of freshly baked cupcakes. I'm a notorious stress baker. I've been known to combat the most difficult of situations with a whisk and rolling pin. There's just something about beating together those eggs that helps relieve the stress. I also do some of my best problem solving in the kitchen. As I watched the cupcakes rise, I mulled over the roadblocks we as a team had reached. We needed to band together and feed off each other's energy. We needed to find what made us tick and act on that.
The following day, I gathered my team around the table. As they devoured the cupcakes (some in an amazing single bite) we reflected upon what needed to be done. We perhaps had to leave behind our own aesthetics in order to produce a book that pleased a majority. We set deadlines, outlined goals and came to the conclusion that our room had to be an "ego-free" zone. They also (somehow) cornered me into a once-a-week baking pledge.
In the end, we produced a beautiful book. Looking back at my journey, its hard to ignore the fact that leadership, while empowering, can often also be humbling. It is both a privilege and a challenge. One often has to put aside personal preference, in order to draw out the best from a team. For aren't all conflicts solvable by finding a common sense of purpose? And, if all else fails, cupcakes to the rescue.
