Critical Chain - Eliyahu M. Goldratt [7]
"That's good enough," Stanley says flatly. "Besides, there is an important difference—they have better students. The best from all over the country apply to those schools, and as you said, they are able to pick just the cr`eme de la cr`eme."
"Once again, it boils down to reputation, not to substance." Bernard doesn't argue, he is just releasing some steam.
It might be that business schools are facing a crisis, B.J. thinks to herself. It might be that Stanley is right and the crisis is far on the horizon, but only the prestigious universities are immune. All the others are exposed.
"How do you build a reputation like that?" Jerry asks.
"Very simple," Bernard replies sarcastically. "You build the university two hundred years ago, and carefully cultivate the alumni." He looks around the table, challenging anyone to defy him. Stanley does.
"That's not the only way. We all know of cases where faculty have built national acclaim. They succeeded in gathering a group of exceptional scientists, whose breakthrough research put their department firmly on the map.
Alistair shakes his head in disagreement. B.J. knows exactly why. There is no way a small university like hers or Alistair's can attract people of such caliber. These exceptional people want, and are able, to go to the already acclaimed universities. Anyway, she simply can't afford the high salaries they command.
Maybe she can cultivate talent already existing in her business school? Support and encourage them in some way. . . . What way? And what is the likelihood that the business school has some unrecognized Feynman in their midst?
Chapter 4
I look around the class. There are many more students than I expected, almost thirty, but it doesn't matter; I've taught classes four times as large and I'm well prepared. I slaved all summer, reading everything I could lay my hands on. I interviewed over a dozen people with a lot of experience in project management, much more experience than these young managers have. I think I can handle anything they throw at me. Or at least I can swing at it.
They all take their seats. It's quiet. I'd better start. As usual, the first row is almost empty. The last person to become quiet is sitting in the back row. Good. He is a large man, about my age. He can stand some abuse. "What's your name?" I ask, pointing at him.
I picked right because he doesn't try to pretend I am pointing at somebody else. "Mark Kowalski," he replies in a booming voice.
"Why have you chosen this course?" I ask bluntly. One thing is for sure, I have everybody's attention. They are not accustomed to my teaching style. A professor is supposed to lecture, not interview. Half are looking at me, half are looking at him. Some are smiling.
"I'm a project leader," he answers.
When I don't reply, he continues. "I work in a company that produces modems. I'm in charge of one of the development teams."
I continue to stare at him, but he doesn't add anything more. The situation becomes really uncomfortable when I finally say, "You haven't answered my question."
I look around. Nobody meets my eye. Nobody wants to be the next victim. I return to Mark. "Do you have any problems managing your project?"
"Not really," he answers.
"So why have you chosen this project management course?" He starts to grin. "I guess I do have some problems," he admits.
"Can you elaborate?"
"Well, I didn't start this project, and the person before me made some wild promises that, I'm afraid, are unrealistic." "Like?" I press him.
"Like the expected performance of our new modem and the time it will take to deliver it."
Some other students are grinning with empathy. "And you expect," I look him straight in the eye, "that what you are going to learn in this course will enable you to perform some miracles?"
"I wish," he uncomfortably admits.
"So, why