The Coach As Scaffolding

In a conversation with another leader last week the word, “scaffolding” was mentioned metaphorically. Scaffolding is the temporary structure or frame that makes building something possible. Scaffolding doesn’t decide what gets built. It doesn’t draw the plans or choose the materials. It serves the vision of the people doing the building. This is one of the clearest lines I know between coaching and other kinds of help. A consultant might hand you the design. A coach helps you build your own. When I’m tempted to tell a leader what their future should look like, I remind myself that I’m the scaffolding, not the architect. The design is theirs. My job is to help them see it clearly and build it well.

Scaffolding isn’t set up once and left alone. It’s adjusted level by level as the building rises, and it’s strongest where the work is newest and highest. Effective coaching works the same way. Early on, a leader may need more structure: more frequent conversations, more reflection, more accountability. As they grow steadier, the support changes. It moves to wherever the new work is happening.  Leaders face their own heights: the hard decision, the honest conversation with a board, the change they’ve been postponing for years. A coach doesn’t remove the risk. But a coach can make it safe enough for the leader to step out and try, knowing there is something solid underneath them while they learn to stand.

It feels good to be part of the scaffolding that helps leaders build well, but if we aren’t careful, coaching can quietly drift into dependency. The business of coaching can reward keeping clients longer rather than helping them need us less. However, scaffolding that never comes down isn’t scaffolding anymore; it has become part of the building. If scaffolding becomes part of the building, it means the building was never taught to stand on its own.

That doesn’t mean every coaching relationship has to end quickly. Some leaders benefit from long-term support, the way some buildings need a buttress. I like this description of a buttress: “A buttress acts like a heavy shoulder pushing back from the outside, keeping the wall stable”.  The ongoing support of a coach can act as stabilizing support to organizations and their leaders. The danger isn’t long-term coaching. The danger is coaching that has forgotten its purpose.

This is why, when I designed The Braver Table, I designed it with the scaffolding coming down. For eight weeks, leaders do the hard work of seeing their organizations honestly, imagining what could be, and naming the decision they’ve been postponing. But the program doesn’t end with a final session. It ends with First Moves and a rhythm leaders keep practicing on their own, long after we’ve stopped meeting. The goal was never for them to need the table. The goal was for them to learn to build their own.

So here is how I measure my work: Not by how much a leader needs me, but by how much less they need me than when we began. Not by how impressive the scaffolding looks, but by how well the building stands when the scaffolding is gone.

My job, in the end, is to be taken down. And I can’t think of a better job than that.

With you in it,

Michele