It was my Italian Nonna who first taught me about hospitality and social learning even though she never used those terms. She would often say:
“The kindest thing you can do for someone is to invite them into your home for a meal around the table. The meal conversation makes us all better people. It’s why we smile, hug, and tell each other we must do this again.”
Little did she know that decades later, her wisdom would echo the research of Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger in their 1991 book Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Lave and Wenger showed that learning is inherently social. Apprentices, they observed, learn not just through formal instruction but by participating in communities of practice, absorbing the norms, culture, and shared identity of the group. In many ways, Nonna’s table was a community of practice.
Hospitality as Leadership
Over 30 years ago, when I began my first year as an elementary principal, I unknowingly carried Nonna’s lesson into his leadership. Unlike others in my district, I invited my entire staff into our home for what I called an “advance” (since they were advancing the work, not retreating from it). At first, the invitation puzzled people. “You’re really inviting all of us into your home?” one asked. Another joked, “Are you sure your wife is OK with us invading?” I chuckled, imagining Nonna nodding in approval from heaven.
That day, as conversations unfolded and our children wandered through the gathering, the smell of charcoal drifted in. “Someone’s barbecuing,” a staff member noted. I smiled, replying, “That’s my dad—he’s getting the coals ready for your hamburgers and hot dogs.” The surprise was met with delight. Later, one teacher grew emotional, saying, “It’s moving to see how much care you’ve put into this day for us.”
What began as an unconventional gesture became a defining moment of community.
Full Circle
Years later, my son Hans, now a middle school principal, hosted his own “advance.” At 11 a.m., the smell of charcoal again filled the air. Only this time, Hans said to his staff, “That’s my dad—he’s preparing your lunch.”
For me, this was a full-circle moment. Nonna’s wisdom had lived on, passed from her to me, and from me to Hans. Her simple phrase—“The kindest thing you can do is invite them into your home”—had now become a multigenerational practice of leadership.
Conversation Makes Us Better
Nonna also believed:
“The conversations around the table make us better people.”
After his own advance, Hans reflected with me on why the day was so powerful for his staff:
- Focus and Flow of Ideas – “We accomplished way more than we would have at school. No one left to check their classroom or make calls. Everyone stayed, ate together, and the ideas kept flowing.”
- Environment Shapes Learning – “Being in my home created natural conversations—about gardens, paint colors, kids, and even the barking dog. That comfort helped people open up creatively and focus more deeply.”
- Humanizing the Leader – “Staff saw me not only as their principal but as a dad, a husband, and a son. They met my family and saw the support system behind me.”
Lave and Wenger Would Say…
What Hans described could easily be lifted from Lave and Wenger’s research. His “advance” was not just a meeting; it was a community of practice in action. Staff were learning not only the tasks of their work but also the culture of collaboration. Their identities as educators were shaped by participating together in a shared experience, reinforced by the rituals of food, conversation, and hospitality.
In Nonna’s terms: The kindest thing you can do is invite people in, feed them, and let the conversation make you all better.
In Lave and Wenger’s terms: Learning is social, identity is formed through participation, and communities of practice are where growth happens.
