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Ris Adams
Software Mentor
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You know the signs: minimal participation in standup, delayed deliverables, and that thousand-yard stare during retrospectives. A disengaged team member can derail sprint momentum faster than a production bug on Friday afternoon. But before you escalate to management or start documenting performance issues, remember that disengagement is often a symptom, not the disease.

There I was, facilitating a retrospective for a team of brilliant engineers, when someone asked a technical question that made my stomach drop. I nodded thoughtfully, buying time, while my inner voice screamed: "You have no idea what they're talking about, do you?" Welcome to the Scrum Master's paradox — leading teams through complex technical challenges while secretly wondering if you belong in the room at all.

The best Scrum Masters I've worked with share one defining trait: they're genuinely curious about everything. Not the kind of curiosity that leads to micromanaging or endless questioning, but the type that drives continuous learning, problem-solving, and team growth. They ask "why" when processes break down, "what if" when exploring solutions, and "how might we" when facilitating team discussions.

Ever notice how the best Scrum Masters seem to have a sixth sense for what’s really going on in a team? Spoiler: it’s not magic, and it’s definitely not mind reading (though that would be a nice superpowerto have!). It’s effective listening—the kind that goes beyond nodding along and actually tunes into what’s said, unsaid, and everything in between.

Agile ceremonies can feel like navigating a social minefield when you're neurodivergent. The constant context switching, sensory overload, and unstructured discussions that energize neurotypical teammates might drain your focus and leave you feeling disconnected from the process.

But here's what I've learned from years of facilitating scrum events and working with brilliant neurodivergent developers: your brain isn't broken, and Agile ceremonies aren't fundamentally incompatible with how you think. You just need the right playbook.

Twenty years ago, being a Scrum Master meant you were the keeper of the framework—the person who made sure daily standups happened at 9 AM sharp and that retrospectives followed the prescribed format. Fast-forward to 2025, and if you're still just moving tickets in Jira and asking "What did you do yesterday?"—well, an AI probably does that better than you.

The role has fundamentally shifted, and honestly? It's about time. I've watched this evolution firsthand through economic downturns, remote work revolutions, and the rise of DevOps. The Scrum Masters who survived and thrived didn't just adapt—they transformed themselves into something the original Scrum Guide never envisioned: strategic business enablers who happen to know agile frameworks really well.

Unless you've won the lottery or have a trust fund that pays out in premium coffee beans, you probably have a job. Most days, you're likely fine with that arrangement—solving problems, sending emails, and optimizing workflows. But let's be real: even the best jobs come with moments that make you want to delete your professional identity and start fresh.

Your git commit history could be telling an epic tale of how your codebase evolved, or it could be a cryptic collection of "fixed stuff" and "updated things." The difference isn't just aesthetic—it's the line between a repository that teaches and one that confuses. Well-crafted commits don't just track changes; they document your code's journey in a way that helps your team and future you.