The Cost of Waiting for Perfect
Sunday Morning Coffee
If I had waited until I had enough money, enough staff, enough space, enough technology, enough buy-in, or enough time...
I wouldn't have built much of anything.
Over the years, people have complimented me on innovative programs I've had the privilege to help create. Career academies. Peer mentoring initiatives. Positive behavior systems. Leadership programs. Program units. Technology integration. Workforce pathways. Reentry supports.
What they often don't see is how those programs actually began. Hardly ever with a million-dollar grant (although one did, but it was based on what we’d already created with no funding). Not with a strategic plan polished by consultants (just a room full of committed people brainstorming and planning). Not with unanimous support from every stakeholder (does that EVER happen?). Most started with a conversation, a handful of committed people, and one simple question: "What can we do with what we have?"
That question has become one of my favorite leadership tools.
Perfect is expensive.
Waiting for perfect costs more than most organizations realize. Every year that we postpone launching a new idea, another group of students misses out on opportunities that could have changed their trajectory. Every committee meeting spent debating every possible obstacle delays learning from the people we're trying to serve. Every request for "just one more resource" assumes that transformation only happens after the budget catches up, but in corrections, budgets rarely catch up.
If innovation required perfect conditions, very little would ever change.
Pilots create proof.
One of the most common questions I hear from leaders is, "How do we convince leadership to invest?" Ironically, the best answer is often to stop asking for permission to build the finished version. Instead, build a small version, like a pilot, a prototype…a proof of concept. Pilots accomplish something that planning alone never can: they generate evidence. When people see incarcerated students earning certifications, mentoring one another, showing up consistently, improving behavior, or finding employment after release, the conversation changes.
Suddenly the question isn't, "Will this work?"
It's, "How do we expand it?"
Some of my favorite programs began surprisingly small.
Many of the initiatives I'm proudest of started with borrowed classrooms, donated materials, existing staff, or partnerships that grew over time. They weren't flashy, and some weren't even officially called "programs" yet. They were experiments grounded in a belief that people deserved better opportunities than the system was currently providing. As results emerged, so did support:
Funding followed.
Partnerships multiplied.
Leaders became champions.
Looking back, I realize something important: people rarely invest in ideas. They invest in demonstrated possibilities, and this is why, no matter what we create, we keep data (quant and qual), so that we can show what we’ve accomplished.
Start where you are.
There's a phrase I've come to believe deeply: Use what you have. Build what you can. Learn as you go.
That doesn't mean settling for mediocrity, it means recognizing that excellence often develops through iteration rather than perfection. Your first version isn't your final version, and of course, it shouldn't be. Every cohort teaches you something, every mistake reveals an improvement, every success uncovers another opportunity.
Programs become exceptional because leaders are willing to refine them, not because they got everything right the first time.
The greatest risk isn't failing.
The greatest risk is convincing ourselves that we can't begin until conditions improve. I've worked in juvenile facilities, prisons, jails, nonprofits, and government agencies long enough to know this: Resources, support, and funding absolutely matter, but none of those things create vision. People do.
The leaders who transform correctional education aren't necessarily the ones with the biggest budgets. They're the ones willing to ask, "What's one meaningful thing we can start today?" Because here's the secret: the programs we admire today were almost never born fully formed. Somebody just had the courage to begin before everything was ready, and that may be the most important leadership lesson of all.
Cheers to you on this beautiful summer day. Drink your coffee (or beverage of choice, for all you philistines out there) in a relaxed and mindful manner today. Gear up for whatever brilliant idea you’re about to put forth in the world!
And if you’re looking for help in figuring out what to do with what you have, give me a shout! You can contact me here. I’d love to hear what you’ve got going on.
