Letitia came to Stephanie stressed. She ran a monthly working group and every month felt the same: low attendance, low engagement, and a Q&A section that was mostly just awkward silence. She spent hours preparing a presentation nobody seemed to care about and couldn't figure out what she was doing wrong. When Stephanie asked her to walk through the format, Letitia said they do forty minutes of presentation followed by twenty minutes of Q&A. She selected the topic each month, recruited a presenter (often herself by default because no one ever volunteered), and carried the entire session on her back. Stephanie pointed out something that surprised Letitia, even though it felt obvious to her in retrospect: the format was inadvertently creating a group of observers, not active collaborators. The meeting was designed in a way that encouraged passivity.
When we tell people that Wolf & Heron doesn't use slides in its in-person workshops, they often respond with an excited, “I love that! How refreshing!” That reaction is telling. Nobody says "that's weird." They are instantly relieved, relaxed and excited. They say refreshing — which means somewhere, on some level, they already know that slides aren't working the way they're supposed to. And in fact, workshops or presentations that rely on slides often make us sleepy. Here's the science behind why.
Stephanie was coaching Lauren who, by every measure, had the change under control. She was leading her organization through a significant shift, managing multiple moving pieces at once. She communicated clearly. She had systems in place. Her team was executing. When Stephanie checked in with her, she said she felt on top of it. Then she showed up to a coaching conversation completely distraught. One of her employees had quit. The reason given: burnout. This was the person she had been most relying on to carry the weight of the change, someone who had been performing flawlessly and showing up fully to every task. What Lauren hadn't seen was what was happening underneath: the cumulative weight of what this employee had been quietly absorbing, week after week, until it finally pushed her to a breaking point.
A few weeks ago, Stephanie got on a call with a client she's been coaching for several months. This client, a public health leader who had spent years building a program she believed in, was in tears. The list of what she was navigating was almost hard to say out loud: federal funding for her department was evaporating. Public trust in the field she'd devoted her career to had cratered in the years since COVID. There was an active measles outbreak demanding her team's around-the-clock attention. The strategic plan she'd helped design was effectively on hold. And in the same week, both her boss and her most trusted employee had resigned, with a hiring freeze in place that meant no one would be coming to help.