Really? Questioning Mission Again?

Guest Post  Jason Illari is Grants Administrator at the Fire Museum of Maryland.  But he's also active in local historical societies and the Small Museum Association.  In this guest post,  he takes on the issue of mission and historic houses.  We both look forward to hearing your thoughts on this evergreen, but always important, issue.  Comment away!

"If we did not have a house, would we still have a mission?"  I know I am not the first to bring up the subject of mission in historic house museums,  but I've puzzled over this query and a curious response to that question given to me during a historic house consultancy.   It's taken me some time to formulate my thoughts about the question and why it matters. 

A dear friend and colleague met me for lunch one day to discuss the future of the house in question.  To provide some context, the organization was facing some serious challenges and we were brainstorming about mission, future plans, interpretation, etc. The colleague commented on the last of preventative maintenance afford the structure and then sincerely, lightheartedly but tellingly remarked, "well, I guess if something serious were to happen to the house, we would just eventually fold the organization and move on." 

In other words, I understood my colleague's statement to mean that the organization's mission was so intricately tied to the structure that without the original house the organization would become obsolete.  I assure readers that this colleague had no ill will fir the organization--on the contrary--they were one of the home's chief proponents.  I hemmed and hawed over the comment like any good museum professional would.  Yet, dare I say that after years of contemplation, I have begun to understand why the comment was made.  At its core, my colleague's observation speaks volumes about how stewards of  historic house museums relate to mission and also how a community views an organization charged with caring for these structures.

If mission is an institution's metaphorical pulse or heartbeat,  then I believe it must be lovingly monitored, studied and occasionally revived within the body of an institution.  I think about what doctors and nurses do every time I step into their office. Like some dull mantra, the first thing I hear is, "Time to check your pulse Mr. Illari."   I have found that asking one simple question:  "If we did not have a house would we still have a mission?"  to community members, board members, staff and volunteers and visitors is an effective way to stimulate conversation about the meaning and importance of mission.  Another thought-provoking exercise, albeit an awkward one, is to read out loud the mission statement multiple times, interspersing it with similar mission statements to drive home a particular point, like redundancy or uniqueness.   Then sit in silence for a minutes, a few days or even a few weeks before talking about it.  Meditation is not a dirty word and a period of reflection may be really useful and drive thoughtful conversations forward.  Maybe someone will say,  "why didn't I think of that?"  and help create meaningful change.

In my opinion, the reason to monitor mission and ask these tough questions is not to abruptly change an instititon's course with every fad or whim, but to ensure that the overall vitality of an organization is maintained through sustainable relevancy.  If we are constantly questioning why an organization seems lifeless, decade after decade, maybe a thorough examination of mission is in order and a change is long overdue.  To me, sustainable relevancy means striving to cultivate a mission that is designed to foster long-term relvancy based on trends, future studies, community input and other social sciences while always keeping in mind the mandate to preserve, collect and interpret.  Yes, we are in the business of caring for things that matter!

Museum thinkers have been mulling over these ideas almost ad nauseum, but we should remind ourselves that it's OK and even essential to meditate on the effectiveness of our missions and question their relevancy.  What makes them timeless or transcendent?  What about them articulates a desire for positive action or lift up a neighborhood or community of interest?  Are we really using or leveraging our mission when we ask for support?  Are we trying to over-complicate our mission and be something we're not?  Maybe our one, true purpose is to tell the story of footstools, but maybe our mission might also articulate the desire to inspire genuine laughter to uplift weary hearts and minds while telling the footstool story.

Where we run into trouble I think, is by trying so hard to find the perfect answer to the historic house "riddle"  that we lose sight of the importance of asking more creative questions. I think this is especially true for many historic house museums that are desperately trying to find their place in a world that, quite frankly, is over-saturated by houses with run-of-the-mill missions, patina-ed with uniqueness, in the same way, that the house's unprovenanced furniture carries the same dull patina.

As historic house museums become increasingly involved with the American Alliance of Museums Continuum of Excellence and their call to examine core documents, including mission--I would like to offer that staff and boards can freely use the questions above to stimulate conversation about mission.  Jot down the answers and I'm willing to admit that new ideas about mission will emerge.  Oftentimes the answers we seek are hidden in the questions we ask.  So what questions have you asked lately?

Linda's written insightfully about mission here at the Uncataloged Museum over the years--and it's certainly worth revisiting them.

Abandoned building via Flickr user takomabibelot

Footstool and dog,  Library of Congress

Pulse taking from The Welcome Collection

Mission Accomplished?

How often does your museum staff think about your mission?  You know, that thing that says, "the mission of x is to do y?"  In the past month, I've visited one museum that totally missed the opportunity to clearly share its mission, talked about mission with a group of small history museum staff and volunteers, and co-written a new mission statement for the Pickle Project.  Each of those situations made me really think about why missions matter--and how we can delve deeper into them.

The missed opportunity was at the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles.  When we arrived,  we paid admission and then were asked to gather at a desk in the lobby to wait for a staff member to provide an orientation.  Okay, fair enough.  We stand around,  other groups of visitors stand around,  we wait for a visitor to come out of the bathroom and have a staff member say, "oh, you're back!" which is sort of a strange way to start a visit.  Thus gathered, we're led down the ramp to the lower level.  Ah, I think, here's where we'll hear about what tolerance means, or what the museum hopes to do, or what its mission is. Nope!  We hear that one exhibit is to the left, one to the right, bathrooms upstairs.  After the visit, I went back to the museum's website.  It says that the museum is dedicated to challenging visitors to understand the Holocaust in both historic and contemporary contexts and confront all forms of prejudice and discrimination in our world today.  Why would you not introduce/reinforce/engage visitors with that powerful idea when they enter your museum?  A totally missed opportunity at a place where I expected much more.

At a StEPs-CT training in Connecticut,  I asked participants to introduce themselves to the group with their organization's mission statement. Out of the group of 25,  I'd say easily half were virtually identical.  "Collect, preserve, educate..."   "history of x town,  Connecticut, the nation"   "collect real and personal property" and the long list of activities including historic markers, publications, exhibits, presenting, educating, taking care of historic buildings.  Only one or two mentioned the audience in ways other than the phrase, "the general public."  The next day, we had a great discussion about those mission statements--about why they're important and not just boiler plate--a discussion greatly helped along by AASLH's StEPs program and its benchmarking checklist.   When your mission is the frame for your work, or the sieve through which all your activities must pass, it just makes sense to have a mission that really matters--and to make sure that everyone knows what it is.

Some time ago, Dorothy Chen-Courtin provided workshop participants with a useful way to think about mission--one I've continued to share with others.   She encouraged us to keep asking why or so what?  Why do you collect things?  Because no one else does.  So what?  Because they're disappearing.  So what?  The goal is to push, push, push until you really figure out the why--the meaning;  who it's for;  and what your lasting impact will be. In writing this post I looked at many, many museum mission statements thanks to Google.  And I've come to think that "appreciate the history of..." is just not enough.  I can appreciate all kinds of things without wanting to make any effort to go any deeper.  Is appreciate in your mission statement?  Can you make a case for why?  And if your organization has a hard time attracting donors or community interest--could it be that your mission just doesn't inspire passion or commitment?

Where are some good models for mission statements?  Here's some I particularly like (and thanks to Anne Ackerson of Leading by Design for sharing many of these).

• The National Civil Rights Museum, located at the Lorraine Motel, the site of Dr. Martin Luther King's assassination, chronicles key episodes of the American civil rights movement and the legacy of this movement to inspire participation in civil and human rights efforts globally, through our collections, exhibitions, and educational programs.
• The Harriet Beecher Stowe Center¹s mission is to preserve and interpret Harriet Beecher Stowe¹s Hartford home and the Center¹s historic collections, create a forum for vibrant discussion of her life and work, and inspire individuals to embrace and emulate her commitment to social justice by effecting positive change.
• Through its preservation, research and interpretive initiatives, Historic Cherry Hill focuses on one Albany family’s search for order and stability in response to personal and social change, encouraging the public to establish an emotional connection and critical distance in order to gain perspective on their own history and lives.
• The mission of the Minnesota Historical Society is to foster among people an awareness of Minnesota history so that they may draw strength and perspective from the past and find purpose for the future.
• The Brooklyn Historical Society connects the past to the present and makes the vibrant history of Brooklyn tangible, relevant and meaningful for today's diverse communities, and for generations to come.
• In writing mission and vision statements, The Historical Society of Woodstock drew inspiration from that community's rich and varied artistic traditions:
  The Historical Society of Woodstock will be the common thread that brings together the rich and colorful tapestry that is Woodstock. The society then provides a more detailed mission:
  The Historical Society of Woodstock shapes our future through a shared understanding of our past.  We accomplish this by:
  
  .   Creating engaging programs for all ages
  .   Collecting and caring for our history
  .   Encouraging and undertaking research and documentation of our history
  .   Making it possible for all of us to share in our history
• The Pacific Science Center has what seems like a sparely worded mission: ...inspires a lifelong interest in science, math and technology by engaging diverse communities through interactive and innovative exhibits and programs.  But that mission is accompanied by a passionate vision statement:   
  We envision communities where children and adults are inspired by science, understand its basic principles and bring their scientific curiosity and knowledge to bear in the world.  

From an outside view, all of these mission statements share several common elements.  They are passionate.  They don't view education as a one-way street.  And, I'm guessing, each was the subject of intense discussion and debate during their development.  Go back to that science center statement:

•  Bringing curiousity and knowledge to bear in the world.   

A passionate statement of the work of any museum. Heard any good mission statements lately? 

Why by markheybo , Questions by Gurdonark both on Flickr.
Museum of Tolerance parking garage and stickers.

Are County Historical Societies Dinosaurs?

I began my museum career at age 14 as a volunteer at a county historical society;  volunteered at a different county historical society all through college;  and became director of yet a different county historical society after finishing graduate school.   These are places I've spent lots of time in and I'm beginning to wonder whether they are, as a class of museums, in danger of going the way of the dinosaur.   The signs are all around.   Here are some headlines from a quick search:

Rensselaer County Historical Society may Close
Ceiling Portion Collapses at Oneida Historical Society
County Historical Society Struggles to Perform Mission
Wayne County (Pennsylvania) Historical Society Museum Closes Until April 15 Due to Budget Cuts

There's no question that part of the problem is the current financial crisis affecting all non-profits.  But the crisis revealed weaknesses that already existed.   Every organization and every community is different, but here's a list of six factors that many have in common.

Owning a building
Historic buildings are enormously expensive and historical societies found themselves caught in two scenarios.  Either completing a huge capital project put them in a financial hole because optimistic projections said that the new building would generate new income or the buildings are at substantial risk because of decades of deferred maintenance.   Could you do more if you weren't burdened by the place you own?  And by the way,  how interesting to the larger community is the story represented by that particular building?

The inability to say no
To say no to objects.  Local historical societies are sinking in objects that have no provenance but were donated by someone because someone at the society couldn't say no.  Without a collecting plan,  the random rusty sad irons and white petticoats keep coming,  barely cataloged and jammed into storage.  Another inability--to say no to the people who say, "we've always done it this way" as a way of hindering progress.

The inability to say yes
To new ideas that is.   Just the other day, I heard a complaint about how hard it is to find new board members--but this is for an organization where nothing is happening.  That same board member who complained then told me that she had just accepted an additional board position--one with an organization with a clear sense of mission and vision.  The inability to say yes to community members, to collaborative efforts with other organizations, to new ideas--that's a death knell.

Few connections between professional training and county historical societies
There are more and more graduates of museum training programs--but it seems like county historical societies are run by fewer and fewer of them.  Part of the issue, it goes without saying, is the ability of a county historical society under financial pressure to pay a decent salary to a new MA with student loans, but I think there's sometimes a sense that local societies don't "need" staff with training.   I think graduate programs need to see these places as important, potentially vital places;  boards need to see young graduates as great resources and pay them a living wage.

No sense of urgency
I just looked at the websites of several different county historical societies.  On one, the latest news was from 2008;  on another,  under recent events, the most recent event listed was Winter Recess 2009.  Does that make me think I've landed upon the site of a vital, forward looking organization that I might want to be involved with?   Is the largest part of your museum taken up with a permanent exhibit that hasn't been changed in decades while changing exhibits are relegated to a grim room in the inaccessible basement?

A disconnect?
There seems to be a disconnection between community history and local historical societies.  As interest in being involved in a local museum appears to decline,  virtual interest increases.  I'm a Facebook fan of a group dedicated to my hometown and there's lively discussion and memories.  Is it that we're more interested in nostalgia than history?  Or does it mean that so few of us live where we grew up that we seek those connections online rather than in person?  What can county historical societies do about it?  How can we be about meaning and relevance in an increasingly global world?

My friend and colleague Anne Ackerson has written several posts over at Leading by Design recently about the signs of trouble for failing organizations and a scalable way to clamber back into success.  Well worth reading.

There's not a single answer but unless each county historical society takes a clear, cold, hard look at the issues they will become extinct.   My thoughts in this post were framed primarily by my experience with New York State museums--and this coming week I'm headed off to the American Association for State and Local History annual conference in Oklahoma City.   I look forward to some lively conversations about how organizations in other parts of the country are addressing these dilemmas.  I hope my next few posts both here and as a guest blogger for AASLH will highlight some solutions.   Going to be at AASLH and want to chat about this issue (or others) in person?  Just email me!

And of course, I want to hear from all of you--is your organization a dinosaur or a nimble adapter (bees, birds, cockroaches, for instance)  and why?

Dead end dinosaur sign from Animal World 
Sorry we're closed by threelittlecupcakes on Flickr

Vision, Mission, Shmisson!

I spent a day last week facilitating a conversation with staff at a museum beginning the work of revising the mission and vision statements.  To prep for the day, I randomly wandered the web in search of museum mission and vision statements and came away unsure of what we think we're doing when we write new guiding statements.

Yes,  we're exploring, we're engaging, we work in communities.  We reach out, we work with others, we want to educate and promote.  Rarely anymore do we only document, collect and preserve.   Should it be one sentence only?  Does it need several supporting paragraphs?  Is it really a true vision to say you want to be the best [insert type of museum or locality here] there is?

But the discussion with both staff and design/branding experts was an intriguing one.  We raised perhaps more questions than we answered.  Among them:

• Who is the mission really for?  To be used internally or written so that front desk staff can articulate it to visitors?
• Why is it that sometimes artifacts seemed to sneak away from the mission statement?
• Who are we for?  What does the word "family" mean?  Does that mean some people stay away?  
• Are there other ways to say "general audiences" rather than everyone?
• It's great to be aspirational, as in a vision statement, but does an organization really need two statements?  Could it not be condensed into a single statement of purpose?
• How does that vision/mission really connect to branding and design?
• Can a museum commit to pushing all of its activities through the sieve of vision and mission?  What happens if you don't?
• Can you please all of the people all of the time?  (pretty much no, I'd say)

If you have just revised your museum's vision and mission, I'd love to hear about it, particularly about the process and the final wording.   The work of deeply and collectively thinking about the work that museums do is critical--so those discussions about vision and mission need to happen--but I wonder whether there's a different way to capture those discussions for our stakeholders.   And of course, as I read somewhere in my random web travels last week (apologies for the lack of attribution),  a mission without a strategy is only a wish.

Why a bowling photo at the top of the post?  Because I found what has now become my favorite vision statement online.   It's for something called Bowling, Inc.  and it is:

More people, bowling more often, having more fun.

Perfect.