Learning to Wobble: What San Rafael Taught Me About Leadership 

By Kiaran Locy  

Reuniting after a summer break felt like the first day of school, but the kind where you’re heading into junior year, know the ropes, and are genuinely excited to see everyone again. With our international seminar on the horizon, San Rafael gave us one more chance to absorb new information together and notice how far we’ve come.  

Our First Pop Quiz 

As leaders, we will face moments when our values collide with someone else’s, often without warning. Preparation isn’t about having the right answer ready. It’s about knowing what you value before you’re tested on it. These moments reveal our orientation, not our intelligence, and how we hold and respond to disagreement can matter more than how certain we are. We explored four ways these moments can test us: the decoy, when an apparent disagreement about facts is really about something else; difference in scale, when neither side is necessarily wrong but we’re weighing things differently; the trip wire, a line we don t know exists until we cross it; and the write-off, when it’s easier to dismiss someone than understand them.  

My pop quiz moments often come from trip wires and differences in scale at work-those situations where something that seems straightforward turns out to look very different depending on where you’re standing.  

Recently, I was looped into an email chain about a policy change that had taken years to overcome. It was a significant development for our industry, and I initially assumed I was being asked to communicate and celebrate the change. The topic wasn’t in my wheelhouse, so I needed to connect the dots and understand what it meant from different perspectives. What looked like a clear win from one vantage point might carry different implications somewhere else.  

As I started asking questions, I was met first with defensiveness and then a change in direction from what I thought had been intended. I was frustrated. And, if I’m honest, judgmental.  

But then something shifted. I felt relieved. The direction was changing because we were finally talking through how those involved actually saw the issue. I felt more heard. What initially felt like confusion was actually progress toward understanding.  

So, I took more time upstream. We communicated first with key stakeholders and then more broadly, making space for different perspectives rather than assuming everyone would experience the change the same way. As we learned more, it became clear that the development carried different implications depending on where you sat.  

Same event. Different audiences. Different consequences. Different scales.  

The lesson wasn’t that one approach was right and another wrong. It was that I had assumed we were all looking at the same thing in the same way. We weren’t.  

Sometimes my frustration when people don’t immediately see what seems obvious to me is a signal to stop chasing the answer and spend more time understanding the question. That is the kind of pop quiz that reminds me there is always more to understand than what I see at first.  

In class, we offered ways to meet those moments: find common ground, express frustration, use I statements, repeat back what you hear, prioritize together. Stay curious. Maybe just smile and laugh.  

For me, I’m practicing allowing space for frustration, trusting that we’ll be okay if we can see the end the same way, and using my communication skills: listening, repeating back and holding it lightly enough to stay in empathy, curiosity and persistence. I’ve learned that getting to completion is one of my drivers.  

My work is trusting that taking more time at the beginning can get us there faster, and with more clarity, on the other side.  

Seeing San Quentin Differently  

For further preparation, Dr. Nessie Early joined us to help build the container for our visit to San Quentin. We prepared beforehand, then made meaning of what we experienced and considered how to carry those lessons forward.  

I had driven past San Quentin Rehabilitation Center (formerly San Quentin State Prison). many times, living on the other side of the Richmond Bridge. What I knew about it mostly came from what I had heard: a place for the worst of the worst. What always struck me as odd was where it sat. Beautiful views of the San Francisco Bay, just across from Marin County, where I used to spend a day shopping and experiencing a more elevated version of life.  

Now I was finally going inside. I felt curious and a little confused. I wanted to see what matched what I thought I knew, and what I didn’t. It wasn’t as scary as I had imagined.  

We took in the bay views and surrounding homes before meeting Lt. Berry and Warden Chance Andes. Both offered a confident, welcoming presence as they briefed us on what the view from the inside looks like.  

One by one, we entered the gates and a courtyard that felt like it should be anywhere but there. People moved casually between buildings, past places of worship, historic architecture and planters resembled a simple garden. Eight incarcerated men, dressed in blue with bright white sneakers greeted us as our tour guides. Together, we entered a Christian chapel and began asking questions.  

What they shared was heavy: where they came from, the work they had been doing, the crimes they had committed, the growth they saw in themselves and how they supported one another through rehabilitation.  

One man shared how his understanding of the incident that brought him to San Quentin had changed over time. For years, he had viewed himself as the victim, focusing on what had happened to him rather than the role he played in another man’s death. Through reflection, he had come to acknowledge his own actions and take responsibility for their consequences.  

That distinction stayed with me. The accountability wasn’t just for the incident that landed him there, but for acknowledging the ripple effect of his actions and the families impacted.  

As we walked away, I thought about the common ground we had found, and the differences that remained. Class 55 got to exit those gates and return to the belonging of society with our own version of “free people problems.” That contrast stayed with me.  

Trusting the Work Before the Answer  

The following days in San Rafael gave us a chance to practice our responses and notice our reactions.  

We met Jessica Blonien, Chief Counsel for the Board of Parole Hearings, and learned about the weight of decisions that determine whether someone is ready to safely return to society. She shared a framework for making those decisions. That brought us back to our own consequential decisions.  

The Markkula framework introduced us to a structured way of working through ethical dilemmas. Rather than jumping to a conclusion, it encouraged us to consider a decision from multiple perspectives, including who might be affected, what values are at stake and what competing responsibilities we need to weigh. It gave us a method for slowing down, surfacing competing considerations and testing decisions before acting. We also acknowledged what it cannot do: tell us the “right” answer, eliminate disagreement or remove uncertainty.  

We explored moral foundations, motivated reasoning and our reflexive loops, the ways our beliefs influence what information we notice and what we dismiss. Certainty grows, but accuracy does not automatically come along for the ride.  

We then applied that lens to media, examining four agriculture articles for credibility, missing voices, sources, incentives and how someone else might interpret the same content. I realized how little I actually read full news articles. I tend to gather headlines, listen to varied opinions and panels, and piece together what I think I know. Time is precious, and I’ve justified that approach against a thousand other priorities.  

I also realized I begin judging in my head while telling myself I’m open. As a communications lead, that is uncomfortable to admit. I am often expected to move toward the message, but sometimes the work needs to begin before the message.  

I need to understand what is actually happening, who is affected, what each audience needs to know, what assumptions are being made and what the consequences might be. My primary audience and stakeholder is the industry I represent. That responsibility requires understanding the full picture, not skipping the work because I think I know where we need to land.  

When I take the time upstream to clarify the audience, intended message and potential consequences, the work downstream tends to flow more easily.  

That is the part I am beginning to trust. Sometimes the fastest way forward is to spend more time getting clear before moving.  

Feeling the Wobble  

We then put these tools to work. In a consequential decision exercise, my fists felt clenched and my posture and facial expressions were on alert. I wanted to speak, be heard and show what I knew.  

But I also caught myself listening. I didn’t want to be the person steering, not because I didn’t have something to contribute, but because I wanted to be a participant. Others were ready to steer. I didn’t need to take on the facilitator role. And when I did speak up, it helped steer the conversation anyway. That was a small but important distinction. Leadership did not require me to take over the circle. I could participate fully without being responsible for moving everyone else.  

Thankfully, we had each other. We’ve been learning how to support one another through these wobbly moments, so we don’t crash quite as hard.  

The Part I Didn’t Expect  

Some of the strongest moments of connection during San Rafael didn’t happen in the classroom.  

I chose to carpool with classmates to seminar because I didn’t want to miss the time together outside the group setting. That choice mattered. The drives before and after the seminar gave a few of us time to talk about what we were experiencing, and also just talk.  

One evening, a few of us had dinner to prepare for the Socratic seminar. The conversation moved between the work we were wrestling with and the personal struggles we were carrying. One person admitted they needed to be more social and were always being asked to join outings. I admitted I wanted that connection too but often have to ask for it. I have to proactively latch on.  

Then we shared a laugh, ate ice cream and came away with an inside joke that made absolutely no sense outside that little group. Those are the moments I will remember.  

Maybe that was the point of the surroundership lesson from our inaugural seminar. It isn’t only having people around you when the work gets hard. It is choosing to be around them. It is asking for the connection you need and letting someone know when you need to be tapped in…or out.  

It is making room for the personal alongside the professional. Sometimes a small choice like driving instead of finding my own way, saying yes to dinner, staying for ice cream, becomes part of what makes the larger experience meaningful.  

What I’m Carrying Forward  

As we prepare to leave for our international seminar, I’m setting an intention to let go of what should happen, how I should feel or what I should see, and instead notice what beauty can be witnessed and absorbed, even in moments of strain and pressure.  

I’m reminded of my coach’s lesson about the sage and saboteur, and building my muscle to simply be for 10 seconds, 100 times a day.  

That idea came full circle at the end of our seminar, when we each stood center stage and shared the growth we were proud of achieving so far. My fellows reminded me that they were going to let me do the work I felt I needed to do. It wasn’t going to be perfect, and it was okay if it was messy.  

But that brought another realization: it pays to tease apart my needs from what I assume everyone else needs. As a communicator, I know the importance of covering the basics, anticipating questions, being prepared and setting an intention for what I want others to know.  

The leadership work, I am learning, is knowing the difference. Knowing what is mine to carry and what someone else can carry. When I need to speak and when I can listen. When work needs to be polished and when it simply needs to move. And knowing I don’t have to do all of it alone.  

We soaked in that podium moment. We celebrated each other’s growth. And I fell further in love with the people in that room.  

I feel humbled by the support and privileged to have this time to better myself. I am deeply grateful to do this work with people I am bonding with and, frankly, adore. There is something powerful about being surrounded by people who challenge you, support you, laugh with you, let you wobble and then help you find your balance again.  

I came into this program thinking about leadership as something I was building in myself. I am beginning to understand that some of that growth comes from doing the work together.  

It is so much better than doing it alone. 

Perspectives from Class 55 

“Visiting San Quentin Rehabilitation Center reinforced the idea that leadership is not about defining people by their past but recognizing their potential for growth and accountability. In agriculture, as in life, effective leaders cultivate people by building confidence and trust, providing opportunities, and sharing the tools to grow.”  

-Sam Christopherson, Markon Cooperative   

“Stop and ask yourself, ‘what life is changing for me?’ It might be having a first child or sitting in the careers you’ve always dreamed about. For myself, it was getting to visit a notorious institution that brought our class to awe. Touring San Quentin Rehabilitation Center was something completely fulfilling. The facility has found a formidable way to foster a new age in our understanding of reformation. We caried that experience into two days of deep thinking about how we analyze situations in real time. It allowed us to have conversations filled with optimism and new perspectives we may have never considered. This seminar left me with a greater grasp of the bigger picture, while understanding that sometimes the smallest perspective can completely change the conversation.”  

-Jon Neugebauer, McArthur Farm Supply 

“Visiting San Quentin and witnessing the impact of education firsthand was one of the most meaningful parts of this seminar. It was powerful to see how access to education empowers people to take ownership of their actions and future, while also lowering recidivism. More than anything, it reminded me that people can’t do the deep work of change until their basic needs are met first. As a leader, that’s a lesson I want to carry forward: creating the conditions where people feel supported enough to grow, rather than expecting growth before that foundation exists.” 

-Lauren Fann, PhD, Almond Board of California 

A note of gratitude  

This experience was made possible by the people who showed up to teach, challenge and walk alongside Class 55. We are grateful for their time, candor and willingness to share their experience with us including:  

Dr. Nessie Early, Educational Program Specialist, who joined us throughout the seminar; Manpreet Bains (43), Educational Team Liaison; Lesa Eidman (49), President and CEO; Dane White, Director of Education, who led several educational sessions; and Judy Sparacino, whose thoughtful planning and coordination brought the seminar together.  

We are also incredibly grateful for our seminar speakers: Mr. Chance Andes, Warden (A), San Quentin Rehabilitation Center; Lt. Guim’Mara Berry, San Quentin Public Information Officer; Ms. Jessica Blonien, Chief Counsel, Board of Parole Hearings; and Dr. Nessie Early, Education Program Specialist.