By Rick Zedník (MBA 2002)

“Good morning,” our professor, Frances Frei, greeted us at 8:40 a.m. on September 12, 2001. Slowly pacing at the front of the lecture hall, lip quivering, she followed those two words with twenty seconds of silence.

“I rehearsed so that this wouldn't happen,” she said, revealing a vulnerability that students at Harvard Business School were unaccustomed to seeing in their faculty.

The previous day, all classes had been cancelled as news broke of the terrorist attacks on the United States. Two of the four hijacked planes had taken off from Boston’s Logan Airport, just a 15-minute drive from our campus. One of the hijackers had spent his last night at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge, a 13-minute walk from where we were sitting.

“Today is obviously not an ordinary day,” she continued, battling mightily to compose herself. “Let's not pretend it is. We have lost many people.”

Twenty years ago, Frances Frei was not the globally revered management guru she has become. This was before she helped transform the culture at HBS to close the performance gap between female and male students, resulting in higher satisfaction scores for both. Before she designed and taught a pioneering program at Uber to help thousands of employees prepare to succeed and lead.

Back in 2001, having just completed her third year of teaching at HBS, she wouldn’t answer to “Professor Frei,” encouraging students to use her first name. She already stood out for her unwillingness to follow the well-worn paths to tenure. On this morning of mourning, Frances was vintage Frances.

“We had a faculty meeting this morning to discuss the importance of class. I just didn't buy it. This week, do whatever you need to do. Leave now. Participate silently. Participate actively.” Contrary to the then-prevailing HBS model—since amended—where speaking in class was essential to earning high grades, Frances was not insisting we stick to standard operating procedure. She was trusting each of us to know what was best for us and to act on it independently. In so doing, she instantly won our trust. No one left the room.

For leaders, earning trust is essential to gaining (and retaining) followers. It often takes months or years to build up. Yet Frances amassed it within minutes. How?

First, she displayed an authenticity—a vulnerability, even—that was disarming.

Frances was normally a rock so hard—one whose “cold calls” of drowsy students were merciless—that some of the most self-assured MBA candidates found her intimidating. But on this day, Frances nearly broke down. And several students teared up.

Second, she signaled that she cared less about strict fidelity to the course than she did about empathy for her students.

“Today’s case is Progressive,” she said, starting the case study discussion in the conventional way. But then, she swerved off in a most unconventional direction. “Who gives a shit? I don't. But for some of us, the distraction can be helpful. Can someone tell us how insurance companies make money?”

And so, the first day of our post-9/11 lives began.

Just six days earlier, in what suddenly seemed like a parallel universe, Frances had introduced us to her course on Managing Service Operations. “We’re going to debunk many myths,” she promised with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She then listed a couple in her sights: “ ‘The customer is always right.’ Or ‘If it is free to offer better service, then always do it.’ ”

Frances loves to tease business students, professors, and practitioners for living in two-by-two matrices. You know those squares meant to helpfully highlight correlation? They show that data points in the lower left box are typically at the opposite end of a recognizable pattern from those in the upper right box. Well, Frances lives for the exceptions. What can be learned from data in the upper left box? Or in the lower right one? There we find what separates the extraordinary from the ordinary.

In that HBS faculty meeting on the morning of September 12, 2001, the message Frances heard was: class is important. In this moment of tragic destabilization, routine is important. Classic management theory dictates that success often derives from predictable patterns so that people know how to plan and where to follow.

But twenty years after sitting through her class that morning, I can confidently say that I’ll never forget the lesson Frances Frei taught us that day. It was not from the curriculum. Rather, it was off-script and about how leadership is different—and how authenticity and empathy engender trust and empower others.

These lessons were far more universal than the scheduled case of the day. I’m still not sure I really know how insurance companies make money.

Rick Zedník is vice chair of the Board of the EURACTIV Media Network and secretary of the board of Women Political Leaders. He lives in Brussels, Belgium.

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