Sunday, March 25, 2012
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Learning to play with others
One day in the 7th grade, I lost all of my friends. We had no argument; there was no scene. I simply found myself one day shunned by the girls whom I had considered close friends. I found myself eating lunch alone, walking to class alone. No phone calls after school. No eye contact or recognition that I existed from this group of girls. My time alone probably lasted just a couple of months, but it felt like a lifetime. In the end, a girl who was previously my closest friend called and said she wanted to be friends with me, even if the other girls disapproved. I asked the question that had been my constant companion through the time of my blacklisting: Why? What had I done to deserve this? The answer astounded me: “One day you went to the front of the algebra class and wrote the answer on the board.” Apparently, the way I did this had angered one of the group, who then persuaded the rest of them to drop me.
I’ve known these facts about myself since I was 12: it’s not enough for me to get an A; I am driven to be at the top of the class. Another fact I learned: basing achievement on competition harms relationships. Differentiating yourself by achievement can provide the kind of distance that is hurtful. I have tried to remain mindful of this difficult lesson. It’s one I have a hard time learning once and for all.
These memories came back to me as I was thinking about a book by Mary Catherine Bateson called “Composing a Life.” Bateson explores the concept of complementarity in personal and working relationships. Complementarity recognizes that people are different in many ways, without placing those differences in the context of value -- higher/lower, better/worse, more/less. It also incorporates interdependence -- the necessity of the complement to complete the whole.
Complementarity is therefore the antithesis of the two most widely-held models of thought in American business or culture: competition and teamwork. In the American ethos, competition must be fair, which means no competitor can be naturally disadvantaged -- that is, the competitors must have symmetry, what we call a level playing ground. Teamwork similarly demands that everyone on the team is either equal or made equal within the context of the team. Any differences due to authority outside the team are artificially stripped whenever the team convenes.
These concepts fail to account for the fact that people are different, and different in many ways. Airbrushing out all of the differences to create fair competition or teamwork takes out of the picture the differences that could make a difference. Finding common ground is important to enable people to work together, but if they limit themselves to the common ground they limit their collective possibilities. Rather than benignly ignoring each other’s differences, why not recognize them and see if those differences could help collaboration?
We are restrained from embracing those differences when we place a higher value on our own attributes. Recognizing a difference in another person, and welcoming that difference because you lack it, would require that you accept that you don’t have it all. You’re not at the head of the class; if you perceive you are then perhaps you have defined the class too narrowly.
I’ve witnessed this struggle in many manager-employee relationships. The manager, whose position of authority frames this relationship, can feel compelled to be the expert, the guide and the monitor, enhancing the one-dimensional asymmetry of the relationship. Because a manager is expected to achieve through employees, any failure of an employee therefore reflects on the manager. When a failure does inevitably occur, the manager has to find some way to reconcile his/her rightness in the face of another’s failure. This is nearly always destructive, both to the manager’s ego and to the relationship between the employee and the manager.
What if instead we conceived of a manager achieving with employees rather than through them? The differences between the manager and employee -- not only position and authority, but also life experiences, perceptions, and skills -- could be included rather than excluded in their working relationship. If someone fails in a task, the focus could be on learning from the experience rather than (self-) recrimination. This could be freeing in some ways, but the manager would also have to accept that the position doesn’t make a person better, or more special. It just makes you different, in some ways, from some people.
Undoubtedly, my 12 year old nemesis was as stunted by her math insecurity as I was by my need to write the answer on the board. Had we the wisdom then that age confers, we might have seen in our differences a way for her to improve her grade and for me to learn humility.
I’ve known these facts about myself since I was 12: it’s not enough for me to get an A; I am driven to be at the top of the class. Another fact I learned: basing achievement on competition harms relationships. Differentiating yourself by achievement can provide the kind of distance that is hurtful. I have tried to remain mindful of this difficult lesson. It’s one I have a hard time learning once and for all.
These memories came back to me as I was thinking about a book by Mary Catherine Bateson called “Composing a Life.” Bateson explores the concept of complementarity in personal and working relationships. Complementarity recognizes that people are different in many ways, without placing those differences in the context of value -- higher/lower, better/worse, more/less. It also incorporates interdependence -- the necessity of the complement to complete the whole.
Complementarity is therefore the antithesis of the two most widely-held models of thought in American business or culture: competition and teamwork. In the American ethos, competition must be fair, which means no competitor can be naturally disadvantaged -- that is, the competitors must have symmetry, what we call a level playing ground. Teamwork similarly demands that everyone on the team is either equal or made equal within the context of the team. Any differences due to authority outside the team are artificially stripped whenever the team convenes.
These concepts fail to account for the fact that people are different, and different in many ways. Airbrushing out all of the differences to create fair competition or teamwork takes out of the picture the differences that could make a difference. Finding common ground is important to enable people to work together, but if they limit themselves to the common ground they limit their collective possibilities. Rather than benignly ignoring each other’s differences, why not recognize them and see if those differences could help collaboration?
We are restrained from embracing those differences when we place a higher value on our own attributes. Recognizing a difference in another person, and welcoming that difference because you lack it, would require that you accept that you don’t have it all. You’re not at the head of the class; if you perceive you are then perhaps you have defined the class too narrowly.
I’ve witnessed this struggle in many manager-employee relationships. The manager, whose position of authority frames this relationship, can feel compelled to be the expert, the guide and the monitor, enhancing the one-dimensional asymmetry of the relationship. Because a manager is expected to achieve through employees, any failure of an employee therefore reflects on the manager. When a failure does inevitably occur, the manager has to find some way to reconcile his/her rightness in the face of another’s failure. This is nearly always destructive, both to the manager’s ego and to the relationship between the employee and the manager.
What if instead we conceived of a manager achieving with employees rather than through them? The differences between the manager and employee -- not only position and authority, but also life experiences, perceptions, and skills -- could be included rather than excluded in their working relationship. If someone fails in a task, the focus could be on learning from the experience rather than (self-) recrimination. This could be freeing in some ways, but the manager would also have to accept that the position doesn’t make a person better, or more special. It just makes you different, in some ways, from some people.
Undoubtedly, my 12 year old nemesis was as stunted by her math insecurity as I was by my need to write the answer on the board. Had we the wisdom then that age confers, we might have seen in our differences a way for her to improve her grade and for me to learn humility.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Making Tracks
My previous post challenged two assumptions: that career progression equals (management) promotion, and the division between labor and management. I wondered: What could be possible if we changed the existing paradigms?
Every group of people trying to achieve something together needs leaders who have the interest, talent and skills that are not readily found in a single individual: the abilities to think strategically and tactically; the skill to communicate to a wide range of people; the talent to solve problems analytically and creatively; the skills to coach and develop others; the ability to shape work, communicate it, and monitor it; the skill to hold others accountable and celebrate their successes with sincerity; the ability to be self-critical and the humility to own up to failures and learn from them; a sincere and passionate interest in the needs of others. Additionally, managers must also possess credible technical knowledge in the areas in which they work.. Although none of these abilities are rare in themselves, they are not commonly found altogether in a single person – and yet, these are surely the minimum requirements of managers.
That’s a tall order. Now think of how many of these super-talented people a business needs. Using the typical division of labor thinking, every work group (departmental shift) needs a manager. This could be 10% - 20% of the workforce, even if this set of skills weren’t resident in, for instance, 10% of a given population.
This is the point at which businesses begin to loosen standards, and promote into management roles some people who should not be managers, due to their lack of interest in the required work, misapplied talents, or undeveloped skills. This is the path taken to the Peter Principle, even though we know it’s a path we don’t want to tread.
What if we didn’t have a category of workers called ‘managers?’ If we were making a completely new organizational design, we could unbundle all of those attributes listed above, and add in all of the attributes and responsibilities that the business requires in order to function and thrive. It could look something like this:
If we removed the limitations imposed by the organizational chart and its salary structures, we could then consider what skills could be bundled into individual jobs, and how we could group those jobs into meaningful work groups and structural relationships. Roles that require the scarcest talents and skills, and those that make the most significant contributions would be most highly compensated.
In the end, we may still have some manager roles, and some leadership roles – the point is not to get rid of these roles but to loosen our thinking from traditional assumptions. We may also discover a way to create non-management roles that are equal to management track roles in their potential to fulfill and reward. The exercise could enable us to adopt something of an artisan model, in which individuals hone craftsman-like skills within a business context.
A more incremental approach is to consider alternatives to management when you think of the exceptional employees who work for you. If you manage people because of your interest in helping others achieve their goals, you probably give a lot of thought to those outstanding employees who make your department and your company great. If the employee is clearly interested in and has the native talents to move into a management role, your task is a familiar one: give the employee the training and opportunity to develop necessary skills, and select for management progression those who prove proficiency. If the employee is a terrific performer but lacks the interest or talents necessary for management, challenge yourself to consider how you can provide financial rewards and skill development within the context of that individual’s interests and passions.
In the traditional corporate mindset, management is highly valued because managers define value. In an artistic or artisan mindset, craft rather than management is valued (hence the natural tension in the business of the arts). Placing a value on the individual’s talents and skills, and discovering ways the individual can best make use of them, could open up untold possibility for individual and corporate fulfillment.
Every group of people trying to achieve something together needs leaders who have the interest, talent and skills that are not readily found in a single individual: the abilities to think strategically and tactically; the skill to communicate to a wide range of people; the talent to solve problems analytically and creatively; the skills to coach and develop others; the ability to shape work, communicate it, and monitor it; the skill to hold others accountable and celebrate their successes with sincerity; the ability to be self-critical and the humility to own up to failures and learn from them; a sincere and passionate interest in the needs of others. Additionally, managers must also possess credible technical knowledge in the areas in which they work.. Although none of these abilities are rare in themselves, they are not commonly found altogether in a single person – and yet, these are surely the minimum requirements of managers.
That’s a tall order. Now think of how many of these super-talented people a business needs. Using the typical division of labor thinking, every work group (departmental shift) needs a manager. This could be 10% - 20% of the workforce, even if this set of skills weren’t resident in, for instance, 10% of a given population.
This is the point at which businesses begin to loosen standards, and promote into management roles some people who should not be managers, due to their lack of interest in the required work, misapplied talents, or undeveloped skills. This is the path taken to the Peter Principle, even though we know it’s a path we don’t want to tread.
What if we didn’t have a category of workers called ‘managers?’ If we were making a completely new organizational design, we could unbundle all of those attributes listed above, and add in all of the attributes and responsibilities that the business requires in order to function and thrive. It could look something like this:
| Supplier relationships | Customer relationships | Order processing | After-sales service | Product selection |
| Product analysis | Sales analysis | Process analysis | Work design | Scheduling |
| Process monitoring | Internal communications | Internal feedback | Coaching | Strategic design |
If we removed the limitations imposed by the organizational chart and its salary structures, we could then consider what skills could be bundled into individual jobs, and how we could group those jobs into meaningful work groups and structural relationships. Roles that require the scarcest talents and skills, and those that make the most significant contributions would be most highly compensated.
In the end, we may still have some manager roles, and some leadership roles – the point is not to get rid of these roles but to loosen our thinking from traditional assumptions. We may also discover a way to create non-management roles that are equal to management track roles in their potential to fulfill and reward. The exercise could enable us to adopt something of an artisan model, in which individuals hone craftsman-like skills within a business context.
A more incremental approach is to consider alternatives to management when you think of the exceptional employees who work for you. If you manage people because of your interest in helping others achieve their goals, you probably give a lot of thought to those outstanding employees who make your department and your company great. If the employee is clearly interested in and has the native talents to move into a management role, your task is a familiar one: give the employee the training and opportunity to develop necessary skills, and select for management progression those who prove proficiency. If the employee is a terrific performer but lacks the interest or talents necessary for management, challenge yourself to consider how you can provide financial rewards and skill development within the context of that individual’s interests and passions.
In the traditional corporate mindset, management is highly valued because managers define value. In an artistic or artisan mindset, craft rather than management is valued (hence the natural tension in the business of the arts). Placing a value on the individual’s talents and skills, and discovering ways the individual can best make use of them, could open up untold possibility for individual and corporate fulfillment.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Getting off the management track
Why should career growth imply management progression?
Over time I’ve asked many job candidates and employees what they want from their careers. Almost inevitably the talk turns to the management track. The perception that career growth is only achievable on the management track is so hardened in our thinking that I’m never entirely sure whether the desire is sincere, or if this is just considered the right thing to say.
To prepare for a recent talent review session, I asked a group of managers to submit names of employees who could be candidates for management development. During the discussion, the managers admitted that several of the names belonged to employees who were either indifferent about or uninterested in a management role. So, why did the managers want to consider these employees for management development? The answer was that these are great employees, and their managers want to recognize them and retain them.
I left the meeting puzzled by the managers’ logic. But then came my Eureka moment: the managers were using the only tool they have for recognizing, rewarding and investing in their employees. Although I had initially thought the managers limited in their thinking, it was actually I (… and the company and culture I represent…) limiting them.
Our culture largely defines business success in terms of where you are on the corporate organization chart, which is itself defined by management and executive hierarchies. Your success is positively correlated to the number of direct and indirect reports you have.
The interest, skills and talents required to manage and lead others are not distributed equally amongst the population. Sadly, there are far more managers than great managers. Consider all of the managers you’ve known in your career: how many have been truly skilled and talented in the role? If your experience is anything like mine, excellent managers are a small fraction of the total. This may be something of an anomaly: I can’t easily think of any other job that is often held by people who lack the necessary interest, skills and talent to do their job really well. This is partly because standards are very high for managers; a merely good manager really has to be exceptional. A role that impacts others' livelihoods must require the highest possible standards.
I think this is an outcome of an assumption within the business culture that progression means promotion. It is also a holdover from a much older cultural assumption that divides the work environment into labor and management: people who do the work, and the people who direct and supervise them. This division of labor is based on any number of assumptions: that people who perform work are incapable of shaping, directing and monitoring their own work, that formal leadership is preferable to informal leadership amongst work groups, that the direction of work is more highly valued than the work itself.
In all of these assumptions, some things are useful and some things are not, and each business works out for itself what is and isn’t. For instance, most businesses find that designating a small group of leaders with shared goals enables the alignment necessary for the business to achieve its goals. Although it is probably not impossible to align a large population of self-directed employees, it’s surely much more difficult.
I’m not interested in discarding these assumptions, or even trying to disprove them. I do want to point out, though, that these are decisions that people have made or unconsciously accepted. If there are consequences we don’t like, it is within our power to make other decisions.
Like any assumptions, these can be challenged. What would be possible if we did?
Over time I’ve asked many job candidates and employees what they want from their careers. Almost inevitably the talk turns to the management track. The perception that career growth is only achievable on the management track is so hardened in our thinking that I’m never entirely sure whether the desire is sincere, or if this is just considered the right thing to say.
To prepare for a recent talent review session, I asked a group of managers to submit names of employees who could be candidates for management development. During the discussion, the managers admitted that several of the names belonged to employees who were either indifferent about or uninterested in a management role. So, why did the managers want to consider these employees for management development? The answer was that these are great employees, and their managers want to recognize them and retain them.
I left the meeting puzzled by the managers’ logic. But then came my Eureka moment: the managers were using the only tool they have for recognizing, rewarding and investing in their employees. Although I had initially thought the managers limited in their thinking, it was actually I (… and the company and culture I represent…) limiting them.
Our culture largely defines business success in terms of where you are on the corporate organization chart, which is itself defined by management and executive hierarchies. Your success is positively correlated to the number of direct and indirect reports you have.
The interest, skills and talents required to manage and lead others are not distributed equally amongst the population. Sadly, there are far more managers than great managers. Consider all of the managers you’ve known in your career: how many have been truly skilled and talented in the role? If your experience is anything like mine, excellent managers are a small fraction of the total. This may be something of an anomaly: I can’t easily think of any other job that is often held by people who lack the necessary interest, skills and talent to do their job really well. This is partly because standards are very high for managers; a merely good manager really has to be exceptional. A role that impacts others' livelihoods must require the highest possible standards.
I think this is an outcome of an assumption within the business culture that progression means promotion. It is also a holdover from a much older cultural assumption that divides the work environment into labor and management: people who do the work, and the people who direct and supervise them. This division of labor is based on any number of assumptions: that people who perform work are incapable of shaping, directing and monitoring their own work, that formal leadership is preferable to informal leadership amongst work groups, that the direction of work is more highly valued than the work itself.
In all of these assumptions, some things are useful and some things are not, and each business works out for itself what is and isn’t. For instance, most businesses find that designating a small group of leaders with shared goals enables the alignment necessary for the business to achieve its goals. Although it is probably not impossible to align a large population of self-directed employees, it’s surely much more difficult.
I’m not interested in discarding these assumptions, or even trying to disprove them. I do want to point out, though, that these are decisions that people have made or unconsciously accepted. If there are consequences we don’t like, it is within our power to make other decisions.
Like any assumptions, these can be challenged. What would be possible if we did?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Learn Baby Learn
This seems to be the year for training, at work. The company's on a growth curve, and old tactics that just got us by (on-the-job-training that was really just 'watch me while I do my job') when the company was younger are clearly not up to the task now. I find myself most days thinking about, collaborating on, developing, and giving training classes. Thankfully, this is a joy for me and not a chore. I've always felt fortunate that I have such a natural love of learning, and it is a gift to have the opportunity to share that experience with others.
Coincidentally (or not), I happen to be reading David Rock's fascinating book, "Your Brain at Work." One of the book's insights is that the human brain is wired to enjoy learning. Here I was, thinking I was special. But no. Brains love novelty. Learning embraces the 'new,' which lights up the brain. True, the discipline that learning requires is maybe not so fun for the brain: focus requires suppressing a lot of other brain activity, and focus uses up the brain's resources, which feels draining. All of which is just to say that learning is also work, not just fun and games. But does that resource drain (the work) overpower the jolt of excitement from learning?
I've always marveled at how we humans start our lives as learning animals. That's the life of a baby: eating, sleeping, and learning. This experience is not always fun: mom gets irritated when you pull her hair; there's a lot of falling down before you can walk; there's a lot of crying that happens too (but the crying generally results in being comforted -- not much to complain about there). And yet, the 'not fun' doesn't get in the way of the fun. Babies and small children just love to learn - and they happily spend most hours of the day actively learning, and it's considered 'play.' No parents would think to limit the number of hours per day their children spend learning.
As we grow up, humans slowly become accustomed to seeing learning as work. We limit the number of hours our children should spend on learning (which generally is bounded by class time and homework). It is seen as a burden, an obligation. And I must admit, there's little joyful about grades, or studying for exams, or writing essays on a deadline. Rock's book suggests to me that perhaps this is not an attribute of maturity, but rather of the way we are expected to learn as we mature. Learning becomes more about getting it right -- the grade -- rather than about learning, which by definition is about getting it wrong a lot of times first. As we get older, we realize that proficiency is valued; being a novice (a learner) is a low-status position. If you expected your baby to walk without error after having seen it demonstrated a couple of times, perhaps most of the human population would be crawling on all fours.
At the risk of over-simplifying, I suggest: Your brain loves to learn. Your mind isn't entirely convinced. It's the job of a teacher to get your mind to be quiet and step aside, so that your brain can have some fun.
If the entire human population were able to hold onto the joy of learning that we experienced as infants... if expertise were not valued more than curiosity... if failure to try was penalized more than failure to succeed... what kind of world would we pass to the next generation?
Coincidentally (or not), I happen to be reading David Rock's fascinating book, "Your Brain at Work." One of the book's insights is that the human brain is wired to enjoy learning. Here I was, thinking I was special. But no. Brains love novelty. Learning embraces the 'new,' which lights up the brain. True, the discipline that learning requires is maybe not so fun for the brain: focus requires suppressing a lot of other brain activity, and focus uses up the brain's resources, which feels draining. All of which is just to say that learning is also work, not just fun and games. But does that resource drain (the work) overpower the jolt of excitement from learning?
I've always marveled at how we humans start our lives as learning animals. That's the life of a baby: eating, sleeping, and learning. This experience is not always fun: mom gets irritated when you pull her hair; there's a lot of falling down before you can walk; there's a lot of crying that happens too (but the crying generally results in being comforted -- not much to complain about there). And yet, the 'not fun' doesn't get in the way of the fun. Babies and small children just love to learn - and they happily spend most hours of the day actively learning, and it's considered 'play.' No parents would think to limit the number of hours per day their children spend learning.
As we grow up, humans slowly become accustomed to seeing learning as work. We limit the number of hours our children should spend on learning (which generally is bounded by class time and homework). It is seen as a burden, an obligation. And I must admit, there's little joyful about grades, or studying for exams, or writing essays on a deadline. Rock's book suggests to me that perhaps this is not an attribute of maturity, but rather of the way we are expected to learn as we mature. Learning becomes more about getting it right -- the grade -- rather than about learning, which by definition is about getting it wrong a lot of times first. As we get older, we realize that proficiency is valued; being a novice (a learner) is a low-status position. If you expected your baby to walk without error after having seen it demonstrated a couple of times, perhaps most of the human population would be crawling on all fours.
At the risk of over-simplifying, I suggest: Your brain loves to learn. Your mind isn't entirely convinced. It's the job of a teacher to get your mind to be quiet and step aside, so that your brain can have some fun.
If the entire human population were able to hold onto the joy of learning that we experienced as infants... if expertise were not valued more than curiosity... if failure to try was penalized more than failure to succeed... what kind of world would we pass to the next generation?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Matter of Supply
Nicholas Kristof's column in the New York Times today reports on the school in Sudan founded by Valentino Achak Deng (whose story was told by Dave Eggers in "What is the What" - I can't do that book justice bracketed by parentheses but I highly recommend it). Thanks to a best-seller that distributed Valentino's story across the world, the school is being generously supported by donors around the world. The school is starting its second year, and it is taking on an awesome task. Kristof reports that last year, only 11 girls in all of southern Sudan sat for high school graduation exams, and chillingly:
The school can accommodate only 150 students in its incoming ninth grade class. Thousands have applied, many of them adults; the actual need is surely more than that. And yet, even to supply the educational needs of its relatively few students, the school is stretched not only because of its limited resources, but also due to the paucity of infrastructure. Lacking the power grid that we in the US take for granted, the school relies on generators and solar panels to power its computers. And then there is the question of books:
John Sviokla recently wrote "If one looks throughout history, workers' productivity has always been proportional to the quality of the tools they use." This is an important aspect, but equally important to economic development is the quality of distribution or infrastructure access. A person without access to infrastructure is by definition living off the land. Without access to tools for preparing the soil, planting, irrigation, and harvesting, that person (and that person's family) must by definition live hand to mouth.
Education requires very sophisticated infrastructure, which if you have it, is simply invisible. Basic literacy can be taught one to one, with few tools: as Kristof points out, Valentino learned his letters by drawing them in the sand. That's a necessary foundation, but not what it takes to articulate within the world as we know it today, from Seattle to Sudan. That requires tapping into an immense network of information, and having the tools and access to do so.
This is necessary even for very modest education efforts. I'm currently collaborating on a problem solving course. Without a second thought, I availed myself of the following tools that any corporate worker in the US today expects is readily on hand: computer, high speed Internet connection, projector, training rooms, software to create presentations and manuals, reference materials (books, articles, videos), books for students purchased on-line and delivered within a week for the class, copying and binding services, on-demand electricity, subject matter experts and colleagues who can review and advise. Because of this wealth of infrastructure, tools and knowledge that I could access with little effort or delay, my co-workers and I are able to produce a series of training classes in very little time, just in the normal course of our work lives.
Humans have solved the problems of distribution in many parts of the world; the technical answers are not elusive. Investment is not necessarily the constraint - there are a lot of investors who see the value of the untapped potential of communities around the world. The bigger problems to solve are -- as always in the human condition -- politics and exclusion. These too can be changed: even modest prosperity can empower transformative change. Distribution can promote prosperity.
Based on official data, a girl there is far more likely to end up dying in childbirth than she is to gain a primary education.
The school can accommodate only 150 students in its incoming ninth grade class. Thousands have applied, many of them adults; the actual need is surely more than that. And yet, even to supply the educational needs of its relatively few students, the school is stretched not only because of its limited resources, but also due to the paucity of infrastructure. Lacking the power grid that we in the US take for granted, the school relies on generators and solar panels to power its computers. And then there is the question of books:
Recent donations have enabled the school to build a library, which is starved of books, but there is no local postal service for American friends to send books. Valentino looked into the possibility of having books mailed to Kenya and then trucked in, but found he would have to pay prohibitive import duties.
John Sviokla recently wrote "If one looks throughout history, workers' productivity has always been proportional to the quality of the tools they use." This is an important aspect, but equally important to economic development is the quality of distribution or infrastructure access. A person without access to infrastructure is by definition living off the land. Without access to tools for preparing the soil, planting, irrigation, and harvesting, that person (and that person's family) must by definition live hand to mouth.
Education requires very sophisticated infrastructure, which if you have it, is simply invisible. Basic literacy can be taught one to one, with few tools: as Kristof points out, Valentino learned his letters by drawing them in the sand. That's a necessary foundation, but not what it takes to articulate within the world as we know it today, from Seattle to Sudan. That requires tapping into an immense network of information, and having the tools and access to do so.
This is necessary even for very modest education efforts. I'm currently collaborating on a problem solving course. Without a second thought, I availed myself of the following tools that any corporate worker in the US today expects is readily on hand: computer, high speed Internet connection, projector, training rooms, software to create presentations and manuals, reference materials (books, articles, videos), books for students purchased on-line and delivered within a week for the class, copying and binding services, on-demand electricity, subject matter experts and colleagues who can review and advise. Because of this wealth of infrastructure, tools and knowledge that I could access with little effort or delay, my co-workers and I are able to produce a series of training classes in very little time, just in the normal course of our work lives.
Humans have solved the problems of distribution in many parts of the world; the technical answers are not elusive. Investment is not necessarily the constraint - there are a lot of investors who see the value of the untapped potential of communities around the world. The bigger problems to solve are -- as always in the human condition -- politics and exclusion. These too can be changed: even modest prosperity can empower transformative change. Distribution can promote prosperity.
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