My daughter Susan is taking a college course in Education, which requires her to volunteer an hour a day at an educational institution. She was lucky to get a volunteer slot at her college daycare center. She was telling me how cute the 4-5-year-olds are, and she shared little stories from their interactions.

The preschool has advanced to the study of the letter "B." So, the teacher and my daughter were using words like "boy," "bee," and "butterfly" to demonstrate the sound and associate the letter with the sound. Then they asked the little five-year-old boy — let's call him Scott — to provide his own example of a word with the letter "B" and Scott confidently responded "Snake!"

The adults demonstrated again — "bee," "bumblebee," "butterfly," "ball," "bottle," and again asked Scott for an example of a word with the letter "B." And again, Scott confidently responded, "Snake!"

Lest you quickly think that Scott is particularly not gifted, just reflect on the adults around you — don't you often find yourselves in situations where you think you have made a clear case, be it in a corporate or community association board meeting, and the other person may be fully missing the point?

Then again, maybe the little boy is not missing the point, maybe in his mind a snake can contort itself to look like the letter "B," or perhaps the hissing sound of a snake sounds more like a bee buzz to him — what if little Scott knows something that everyone else is missing out on?

Speaking of little children's stories, the next one my daughter shared had to do with a confession of a four-year-old girl. As my daughter was sitting on a long bench practicing letter recognition exercises with the children, a little girl — let's call her Annie — started sliding, almost surreptitiously, on the bench toward my daughter. When she was close enough, Annie stretched to reach my daughter's ear and whispered "My favorite color is rainbow!"

Having accomplished her special mission, Annie started sliding away just as surreptitiously as she had arrived for her revelation. Was she sharing her innermost secret, her worldview? Was this an important moment of revelation for Annie?

I cannot gauge your reaction to this story about the color of rainbow — some of you might be perplexed, others might be dismissive, while others might find it enchanting. Personally, I find it delightful and even deeply philosophical.

You see, little Annie's mind is not tainted by restrictions, often quite artificial that adults build around themselves. Annie has a fresh perspective. And, above all, Annie has not internalized the social domination of "either or," the dictate that only one way is the right way, or that mandatory choices can be made to favor just one item (and I am sure Annie has no awareness that the gay community claims the rainbow as its own symbol). Annie, in the glory of her four years of innocent life, has the luxury of not choosing a single color, but just liking the whole rainbow. Annie even thinks of a rainbow as a color. Annie possesses what most adults lose fairly early on in their lives (even though they won't admit that they have lost it): an open mind.

As I work with boards of directors of not-for-profit and community associations, I am consistently struck by the similarity of issues and challenges that those boards face even though all the people are different, the situations seemingly are different, and the locations of community associations and organizations are different.

These mostly very accomplished individuals often struggle because each person on the Board seemingly pushes an agenda that advocates a singular worldview. What's more, they are often so invested in their position that they seek out only arguments that favor their perspective and opinions, thus becoming even more entrenched in their position.

In social psychology this phenomenon is referred to as group polarization. In community association settings, group polarization, i.e., each side insisting that the only way to go is "my way or the highway," inevitably leads to friction and conflict, sometimes of the protracted variety.

One way to get around becoming entrenched in a singular position is to depersonalize the process and require that, say, for each new challenge at least three alternatives be given equal consideration. Another way is to appoint someone in the role of a "devil's advocate."

The assigned person will not be vilified as someone who always opposes others, and will have the freedom to articulate opposing views and perspectives. Better yet, this role could be a revolving one, assigned to a different person at each meeting, both decreasing resistance to the person, and increasing everyone's involvement in creating a sustained culture of disciplined alternative approaches.

In the end, to avoid the trap of trite solutions, next time you are advocating a position, or making a decision as part of a group, make sure to think of little Annie and that her favorite color is rainbow — maybe that will inspire you to find some innovative approach. And, speaking of innovations, they don't have to be very big, or groundbreaking; sometimes the smallest details can have a big impact. And if you become disciplined about seeking innovations in smaller details, the bigger picture too will follow.

My latest innovative discoveries include a solution for the plug for a toaster by Breville. Its plug — the section that plugs into the wall, and that all manufacturers caution that we should not pull — includes a giant hole for a finger to use to pull the plug. Simple, yet so elegant.

My next discovery came by sheer accident, rather than through perseverance to find a different approach. While my kitchen is rather sizable, it is still quite small; after all, it's a city kitchen. By Back Bay standards it is big, but by suburban standards, it is small. So, I always have more pots and pans than space for them. I try not to stack the pots and pans that have a Teflon layer (I know I should be avoiding them, but I have quite a few of them, anyway) in such a way that the external part of one would touch the internal Teflon layer of the other.

I finally found a solution that if I put one pan upside down, I could put another one right side up on top of the first one, so only their external surfaces would touch each other. And, voila, I doubled by space for these pots and pans.

Thus, as your community association board goes through its decision-making process, endeavor to challenge the old approaches, and create a discipline of seeking innovation. Who knows, maybe you too will start thinking that the rainbow is a color, after all.