When development means “another workshop,” leaders disengage and results stall. In this article, Jef Menguin offers a simple framework based on the 70-20-10 model to help you design leadership growth around experience, relationships, and focused learning. Read it and share it with your team so you create leaders who improve every day, not just during training days.
One of the leaders I worked with once told me, “Sir, gets ko na.”
We had just finished a session on coaching. The frameworks were clear. The role plays went fine. The group was engaged. On paper, it was a strong training day—the kind that earns high ratings and polite compliments at the end.
Two days later, I asked him how it went when he tried it at work.
He laughed—half proud, half embarrassed. “I tried the questions. But when my staff started explaining, I panicked. I didn’t want to look weak. So I gave advice. I ended the conversation. Same old me.”
That small story is the real story behind leadership training.
It’s not that leaders don’t learn. They do.
It’s that leadership doesn’t happen when the room is comfortable. It happens when the room is gone, the pressure is back, and a leader has to choose between an old reflex and a new move.
This is the moment most leadership programs don’t design for.
We design for clarity. We design for engagement. We design for a good day in the classroom. Then we hope that clarity automatically turns into courage.
But in real work, the problem is rarely “I don’t know what to do.” The problem is “I know what to do, but I can’t bring myself to do it when it’s hard.”
This is why the 70-20-10 model became popular in leadership development. It gave people a simple explanation: most learning happens on the job, not in training. And that’s true in a practical sense.
The problem is what happened next.
We started treating 70-20-10 like a formula, as if the numbers were a ratio we should follow. But those numbers were never meant to be that precise. They came from leaders looking back on how they learned, not from experiments designed to prove percentages.
So the better question is not, “Is 70-20-10 accurate?”
The better question is, “How do we design leadership training so it actually shows up at work—when it’s inconvenient, emotional, and real?”
What most people think the 70-20-10 model means
At some point in almost every leadership conversation, someone brings it up.
“Remember the 70-20-10 model.”
Heads nod. Slides appear. Boxes get drawn.
The model is usually explained like this: 70 percent of learning comes from on-the-job experience. 20 percent comes from coaching, feedback, and relationships. 10 percent comes from formal training.
On the surface, it sounds sensible. Balanced. Evidence-based.
And over time, it became more than an insight. It became a framework for action.
I’ve seen it used to design leadership programs, allocate budgets, justify learning strategies, and explain why a single workshop “isn’t enough.” Vendors use it to package offerings. HR teams use it to show maturity. Leaders use it to sound informed.
The model became a shortcut.
Instead of asking, How do leaders really change their behavior? We asked, Are we covering the 70, the 20, and the 10?
Instead of asking, Where will they practice this under pressure? We asked, What percentage does this initiative fall under?
Nothing malicious happened here. The model gave us language. And language is comforting. It makes complex things feel manageable.
But shortcuts, when repeated often enough, quietly become beliefs.
And this belief shaped how we thought about leadership training—what it’s for, where it begins, and where it ends.
What 70-20-10 research actually was—and what it wasn’t
Here’s where the conversation needs to slow down.
The 70-20-10 model did not come from laboratory research. There were no instruments measuring learning outcomes. No control groups. No experiments testing ratios. No claim that learning should happen in these exact proportions.
The numbers came from surveys and interviews. From leaders looking back on their careers and answering a simple question: How did you learn to lead?
Their answers clustered around three sources: experience, people, and formal learning.
The percentages were a way to summarize patterns in those answers. They were descriptive, not prescriptive. A story about reality, not a formula for design.
That distinction matters.
Because when we treat those numbers as ratios—when we talk as if leadership development must be engineered according to a precise split—we give them an authority they were never meant to have.
And here’s the part we often miss.
Most leaders do not spend 10 percent of their working lives in formal leadership training. Not even close. For many, that 10 percent is already a large and concentrated investment.
So the problem was never that training is “only 10 percent.”
The problem is what we expect that 10 percent to do.
Training was never meant to replace experience. It was meant to prepare leaders to return to work differently—to notice better, decide better, and act better when the pressure is real.
When the numbers are misunderstood, training becomes something leaders complete. When the insight is understood, training becomes something leaders activate.
That difference—completion versus activation—is where the real shift begins.
The quiet mistake: we treated the numbers like a recipe
Once numbers enter the room, behavior changes.
I’ve watched this happen in planning sessions. Someone pulls up a slide with 70–20–10 on it, and the conversation subtly shifts. We stop talking about learning and start talking about allocation.
“How do we increase the 70?” “Which activities count as 20?” “Is this program part of the 10 or the 20?”
On the surface, it feels strategic. It feels responsible. It feels like we’re managing learning instead of guessing.
But something important disappears in that moment.
We stop asking learning questions and start asking accounting questions.
Learning questions sound like this: Where will leaders practice this when it’s uncomfortable? Who will notice if they don’t use it? What real decision will force this skill to show up?
Accounting questions sound like this: How do we label this initiative? What bucket does this fall under? Can we say we’re aligned with the model?
The model was never meant to answer those questions. But once numbers are involved, we treat them like instructions. Like a recipe that, if followed correctly, will produce leadership on schedule.
That’s the mistake.
Leadership doesn’t work like a recipe. You don’t combine ingredients, apply heat, and get capability. Leadership shows up in moments—often messy, often emotional, often inconvenient.
The numbers didn’t break leadership training. What broke it was how much certainty we assigned to them.
The obvious reality at work—and why the “10%” is actually huge
Here’s an uncomfortable truth we rarely say out loud.
Most leaders don’t spend anywhere near 10 percent of their time in formal leadership training.
They’re in meetings. They’re handling issues. They’re managing people. They’re firefighting. They’re deciding with incomplete information. They’re carrying pressure that never shows up on a slide.
So when leaders do step into a classroom—even for a day or two—that time is not trivial. It’s a concentrated investment of attention, energy, and permission to think differently.
Which means the problem was never that training is “only 10 percent.”
The problem is that we often treat that 10 percent as if it’s supposed to do the work for us.
We load it with frameworks. We pack it with concepts. We hope clarity alone will create courage. And when it doesn’t, we conclude—quietly—that training doesn’t really work.
But that’s not what training was meant to do.
Training exists to slow leaders down long enough to see their work clearly. To name patterns they’ve been normalizing. To practice moves they’ve been avoiding. To lower the risk before they return to higher-stakes situations.
When used well, that 10 percent doesn’t replace experience. It sharpens it.
It gives leaders something specific to try the next time the pressure hits. And that’s where learning actually begins.
The leadership training industry we accidentally built
When the misconception hardened, the industry adapted.
We built leadership programs that were broad instead of deep. Safe instead of demanding. Impressive instead of decisive. We created what I sometimes call leadership tourism—a quick tour of important ideas, with no requirement to get off the bus.
Leaders learn about psychological safety. They learn about coaching. They learn about feedback. They learn about culture.
They can explain all of it.
Then a team member misses a deadline, and the leader avoids the conversation. A peer pushes back in a meeting, and the leader retreats. A decision stalls, and everyone waits for alignment that never comes.
I see this often in Shift Experiences.
A leader raises their hand and says, “I understand coaching. I’ve attended several coaching workshops.” Then, a few minutes later, when asked to role-play a simple coaching conversation, they hesitate. They over-explain. They revert to advice. They apologize for taking up space.
This isn’t a capability problem. It’s a design problem.
We trained leaders to recognize leadership instead of practice it. We rewarded articulation over action. We created programs that end cleanly instead of carrying forward into real work.
The industry didn’t fail because it lacked content. It failed because it lacked commitment to transfer.
And once training becomes something you finish—rather than something you continue—leadership quietly stays the same.
What we accidentally trained leaders not to do
Every training system teaches something. Even when it doesn’t mean to.
Over time, the way we designed leadership training taught leaders a few quiet lessons—lessons that don’t show up in any curriculum, but show up clearly at work.
We taught leaders to wait.
When something feels difficult or unfamiliar, many leaders don’t try—they defer. They wait for the next program, the next framework, the next expert who will tell them the “right” way to handle it. Leadership becomes something you prepare for, not something you practice in the moment.
We taught leaders to outsource development.
Coaching became a skill you attend a workshop for, not something you do weekly with your team. Feedback became an HR process. Culture became a values deck. Development quietly moved away from daily leadership and into scheduled events.
We taught leaders to escalate instead of decide.
When training focuses on awareness more than judgment, leaders hesitate under pressure. They ask for alignment when a call needs to be made. They raise issues instead of resolving them. They protect themselves by pushing decisions upward.
None of this happened because leaders are incapable.
It happened because we rarely gave them safe, structured ways to practice leadership when the stakes are real but manageable. We trained them to understand leadership—without giving them enough reps to be leaders.
Don’t overcorrect: experience alone doesn’t teach leadership
At this point, some people swing too far in the other direction.
“If 70 percent of learning comes from experience,” they say, “then let’s just throw leaders into the work and let them figure it out.”
That doesn’t work either.
Experience is a powerful teacher—but only when it’s paired with reflection, feedback, and intention. Otherwise, experience simply reinforces whatever habits a leader already has.
A leader who avoids conflict doesn’t magically become courageous through experience. They become more skilled at avoidance. A leader who micromanages doesn’t learn trust by staying busy. They learn control.
I see this often in organizations that pride themselves on being “fast-paced.” Leaders are constantly doing, but rarely stopping to examine how they’re doing it. Learning becomes survival. Survival becomes style.
Experience without a learning loop doesn’t create growth. It creates repetition.
And repetition, when left unchecked, hardens into culture.
What training is really for: introduce the move, lower the risk, start the reps
This is where formal training earns its place.
Training is not there to finish learning. It’s there to begin it well.
In a good learning environment, leaders are given language to name situations they’ve been struggling with. They’re shown a clear move—how to coach, how to give feedback, how to make a decision with trade-offs instead of consensus.
They practice in low-risk conditions. They make mistakes when the consequences are small. They hear how they sound. They adjust. They try again.
That’s not the end of learning. That’s the starting line.
The real work begins when leaders return to their teams and attempt the same move in real life—when emotions are present, time is limited, and outcomes matter. That’s where mastery is built.
The classroom teaches how the move works. The workplace teaches when it’s hard to use it.
When training is designed this way, the 10 percent doesn’t compete with the 70. It strengthens it. It gives experience a direction. It gives effort a shape.
Training doesn’t create leaders. It prepares them to practice leadership where it counts.
Coaching is learned in the room—mastery is earned at work
Coaching is a good example because almost every leader agrees it matters—and almost every leader struggles to do it well.
In training rooms, leaders learn the structure. They learn how to ask open questions, how to listen without jumping in, how to resist the urge to solve the problem too quickly. They practice with peers who are cooperative and forgiving. The conversations are clean. Predictable.
Then they return to work.
The person they’re coaching is defensive. Or quiet. Or emotional. The issue is tangled with performance, trust, and deadlines. The leader feels the pressure to be efficient. Helpful. Decisive.
This is the moment where most learning actually happens.
Not in remembering the coaching model—but in deciding to stay curious when it would be faster to give advice. In choosing to ask one more question instead of closing the conversation. In noticing discomfort and not backing away from it.
The classroom teaches leaders how to coach. Work teaches them when it’s hardest to coach.
That’s why no workshop creates great coaches. Workshops create beginners. Mastery comes from repeated, imperfect attempts in real conversations—followed by reflection, feedback, and another try.
When training acknowledges this, leaders stop expecting fluency on Day One. They start expecting progress over reps.
The language shift leaders need to make learning stick
If leadership development is going to move beyond the classroom, the language around it has to change.
After most programs, leaders ask polite questions: “What did you think of the training?” “Which framework resonated with you?”
Those questions measure appreciation, not learning.
More useful questions sound different. They force leaders to cross the bridge from knowing to doing.
What will you do differently on Monday? Where will you use this skill this week? Which conversation are you avoiding that this could help with? Who will notice if you don’t apply this? What decision will force you to practice this under pressure? Who will give you feedback after your first attempt?
These questions don’t make learning comfortable—but they make it real.
When leaders regularly ask these questions, training stops being an event and starts becoming a practice. The focus shifts from what was covered to what was used.
And once that shift happens, learning begins to show up where it matters most—at work.
A better way to use 70-20-10: keep the insight, drop the false precision
The solution is not to throw away the 70-20-10 model.
The insight behind it still holds: most leadership capability is built through experience and relationships, not through content alone.
What needs to be dropped is the idea that leadership development can be reduced to a ratio.
When leaders treat 70-20-10 as a reminder—not a recipe—it does its job. It nudges us to design real work that teaches, to equip managers to coach, and to use training as a starting point rather than a finish line.
Once the false precision disappears, better questions emerge.
Where will leaders practice this? What work will force the skill to appear? How will feedback be built in? What loop ensures learning continues after the room?
Those questions lead to better outcomes than any percentage ever could.
One real leadership rep in the next 24 hours
If leadership development is about practice, then the best place to end is not with a conclusion—but with a rep.
Think of one leadership behavior you’ve been “learning” for years. Coaching. Feedback. Decision-making. Delegation. Clarity.
Now design one small attempt you can make in the next 24 hours.
One conversation you’ve been postponing. One question you’ll ask instead of giving advice. One decision you’ll make with trade-offs instead of consensus.
Afterward, ask one person for feedback. Not validation—feedback. Then try again.
That’s how leadership actually develops.
Not in percentages. Not in programs. But in practice—one rep at a time.
