Month: July 2018

Passing The Test

What do you remember from your time in school?

Classes and homework, most likely. But also tests.

Tests are a fundamental part of the education experience. They’re the prove it moments. The opportunities to show what we’ve learned by answering a set of specific questions.

This is especially the case later in the education experience. Test scores define grades, provide us admission to the next level of learning and even certify us to practice certain professions.

Tests require preparation. They demand focus. And they can cause students great amounts of stress and anxiety.

Why is that? Because of the high stakes, for sure. But also because of the lack of control.

In most testing environments, we don’t know what’s coming. We might have some ideas as to the topics and general focus. But we don’t know the exact questions we’ll be working with until we’re in the moment.

This makes the build-up process somewhat of a toss-up. Studying involves internalizing information, practicing sample questions, and taking educated guesses as to the actual questions we’ll see in prime time.

It also changes our expectations of the learning experience. We focus our attention solely on the topics that might be on the test. We synthesize most of the information we learn in the waning hours before the test. And we take our performance from the test as a full indication of our potential.

We might succeed in this endeavor. But we’re ultimately setting ourselves up to fail.

You see, the test-intensive education structure is focused on the wrong things. It looks solely at the outcome, at the destination. And it gives that outcome, that result, an inordinate amount of weight when it comes to opening doors to our future.

This setup sends the wrong messages to students.

For one thing, it systemizes gratification. We’re raised to believe If we do one thing, we’ll get something else. Yet, outside the classroom, doing one thing only gives you the opportunity to get something else.

The world is notoriously random and irrational. Building an expectation of fairness and gratification in impressionable young students is downright reckless.

But perhaps more importantly, this focus on outcomes undercuts the very efficacy of education.

You see, learning is more about the journey than the destination. Sure, it can provide great benefits — such as the ability to make more informed decisions and live a more prosperous life. But ultimately, learning is a process. One that is built up gradually over time.

A heavy-handed focus on a few specific data points unravels the entire ball of yarn.

Now, instead of focusing on steady, incremental growth, we emphasize a feast-or-famine approach. We encourage students to pack their brains with information right before a test, data dump it during the exam, and then quickly forget what they’ve just memorized.

The sheer ridiculousness of this cycle is clear. In fact, it’s valid to ask if students really learn anything at all through this process.

The answer, too often, is no.

And that’s a problem.

Because the world needs us to keep learning. It needs us to continually embrace the pattern of growth.

Not just for us to leave our mark on society. But for us to simply survive the day-to-day.

For every day is a series of tests. From the moment we wake up to the moment we hit the pillow, we face a series of new situations and challenges.

These tests don’t follow an academic course structure. We can’t do much to anticipate them ahead of time. We walk into them blind.

It’s on us to build off what we’ve previously learned to handle these situations well in the heat of the moment.

Sometimes we’ll pass with flying colors. Other times, we won’t.

But regardless the result, we can learn from the experience. And use the information we’ve gleaned to prepare us for the next challenge we face.

This is incrementalism at its finest. It’s a full-bore commitment to the journey over the destination. And it’s critical to our daily existence, no matter our walk of life.

We must get on board with growth mindset. Our future depends on it.

So, stop thinking in terms of big moments and gratification. Of tests and grades.

Look at the big picture. Embrace the process.

The journey will be more rewarding.

What’s Your Excuse?

What’s your excuse?

It’s surely out there, waiting on you to call it out.

There’s always something else we can blame when we don’t meet the expectations others have of us, or that we have of ourselves. There’s always a scapegoat — whether it be a person, an object or a set of circumstances — that we can point the finger at. There’s always something we can explain away as being beyond our control.

For our existence appears to us as a story. And when things don’t always go to plan, we can just shift the way that story is told.

That way, we’re the hero. That way, the odds are back in our favor. That way, we can do no wrong.

How do you paint your narrative?

What’s your excuse?

 

My friend Johnnie is a Veteran. He served as a combat controller in the United States Air Force.

On his second deployment to Afghanistan, Johnnie’s convoy hit an IED. Critically injured in the explosion, Johnnie’s life changed forever. He had 31 surgeries to save his legs, and he had to learn how to walk again. His active duty career in the military was over.

Johnnie was awarded a Purple Heart. George W. Bush painted Johnnie’s likeness as part of the Portraits of Courage series, and invited him to participate in his Warrior Open golf tournament for wounded veterans.

But along with all the accolades, Johnnie found himself on strange footing in civilian life. Surrounded by people who couldn’t possibly understand what he’d been through — people who’d never been through the trauma of armed combat, the grueling ordeal of multiple surgeries, the hours and hours of Physical Therapy — it would have been easy for Johnnie to be bitter, to blame the world for what befell him.

But he didn’t.

Johnnie is one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. He makes a point to thank everyone who helped him get back on his feet, and he tries to pay it forward by helping others in need whenever he can. In our second week of business school together, Hurricane Harvey ravaged Southeast Texas. Johnnie gathered what supplies he could from our class, and headed down to Houston to help with the rescue effort. There was no hesitation, only determination.

That’s who Johnnie is, even in the wake of an injury that turned his life upside down. There’s no wallowing in self-pity. Only a determined quest to spread positivity and help others in need.

What’s your excuse?

My next-door neighbor in my college dorm was a young man named Scottie. Living in close quarters, we became fast friends.

Scottie started college a semester after I did. Still, it was miraculous that he even was able to attend college at all.

As it turns out, Scottie had been battling brain tumors of most of his life. The first one appeared when he was only 8 years old. As a child and a teenager, he went through round after round of cancer treatment. Tumors would go away, only to come back months later.

It took a while for me to learn about Scottie’s plight. That was by design.

For Scottie didn’t want people to pity him. Not once did I hear him ask Why me?

His plight was just an obstacle to get past. It was not going to define the way he lived his life.

So, Scottie pursued a college degree, even as his treatments interfered with the process. He continued to cheer on his beloved Florida Panthers. He remained devoted to family and friends.

And he did all of this with a smile on his face and joy in his heart, even in the face of an unthinkable struggle.

Scottie lost his battle in 2014, months after marrying the love of his life. Before his tragic passing, Scottie published an autobiography, which I have yet to finish reading. (What’s my excuse?)

As heartbroken as all who knew him still are today, we can take some measure of solace in learning from the way Scottie lived his life. We can remind ourselves that the plights we face in our lives don’t have to define them. That we can choose the way we live, even in the midst of the gravest battles of our lives.

We can heed these lessons, because Scottie showed us the path.

That’s who Scottie was. And still is.

What’s your excuse?

If you’ve watched prime-time television in recent years, you’re probably familiar with Amy.

I’m talking about Amy Purdy. Snowboarder. Dancing With The Stars contestant. Model. Actress. Motivational speaker. Amy has many different roles.

I’ve never met her. But in a way, I have.

In a TEDx talk, Amy recounts her life. Outfitted in stylish jeans and boots, she confidently walks back and forth on stage as she describes her upbringing, hopes and aspirations.

Then, the moment of conflict.

At age 19, she gets what she thinks is the flu. It turns out to be bacterial meningitis, and lands her in the hospital. She goes into a coma, and wakes up to find her legs amputated below the knee.

Tears are rolling down Amy’s face as she harkens back to those first days after losing her legs. She recalls the despair in knowing that life as she knew it would never again exist.

Amy speaks of spending days on end sleeping with her prosthetic legs by her bedside. Of being too depressed to face her reality.

The raw emotion is palpable and resonant.

But then, something changes. Amy realizes that her condition doesn’t have to hold her back. That with a lot of drive and a little ingenuity, she can accomplish great things.

She starts snowboarding again, and ultimately finds herself in the Paralympics. Her career soars, and she ends up in the limelight.

As her star ascends, Amy looks to help others. She co-founds a non-profit to help individuals with physical disabilities get involved with action sports, art or music.

Amy could have given up when she lost her legs. But she didn’t.

Instead, she set out to achieve great things. And to help others do the same.

That’s who Amy is.

What’s your excuse? 

What’s your excuse?

It’s worth asking again.

What’s the insurmountable obstacle that’s preventing you from achieving your potential? What’s the circumstance standing in your way? What’s the scapegoat, the villain, the convenient alibi?

It’s not as real as you wish it was.

Johnnie, Scottie and Amy didn’t let excuses stop them, even in the wake of unthinkable challenges. So, why are you letting it stop you?

It’s time to get real. To take ownership. To recognize that regardless of the circumstance, you can define your own destiny.

This is your right. And your obligation.

It’s up to you to seize it.

If you feel you can’t, like it’s too much, think of the example Johnnie, Scottie or Amy set. And remember these three words.

What’s your excuse?

The Gift of Generosity

What is a giver?

Is it someone who is generous? Someone who goes above and beyond to serve others?

Perhaps. But that description only tells part of the story.

A giver is someone who is devoted to generosity, with no expectation of anything in return.

Someone who gives without taking.

This definition separates the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. It defines givers as a separate group from those who give.

Those who give can describe anyone who views giving as a transactional activity. Anyone who engages in an I’ll help you so you can help me arrangement. Anyone who sees generosity as a means to an end.

There are definite benefits to this model. Reciprocity can enhance networks, build trust and stoke collaboration.

Yet, it would be wrong to consider the transactional-minded people among us to be givers. The insincerity of their intentions makes the generosity ring hollow, even if it does benefit others.

A giver is not transactional. A giver is altruistic.

A giver’s energy is fully devoted to the act of giving. A giver’s focus is on the benefit their actions will provide others.

It’s not about putting oneself second. It’s about taking oneself out of the picture entirely.

This is the mentality that’s led to the anonymous monetary gift to fund so many critical institutions. To the volunteer who travels to a village in Africa to teach English. To the person who devotes their extra time and money to assist the less fortunate.

These actions have one thing in common. They were spurred compelled to help, but with no desire for recognition.

Everything else is irrelevant. The change the action provides for is paramount.

As such, expense is not a concern to givers. The act of generosity is worth what they pay in money, time and energy. If anything, the giver wishes they had more to donate.

And reciprocity is not a concern to givers either. Seeing others succeed provides givers their greatest thrill. It lifts their spirit and puts a smile on their face.

It’s all about the gift.

No strings attached.

This pureness is pretty straightforward. Yet, our society doesn’t know how to handle true generosity.

When we’re on the receiving end of a giver’s actions, we predominantly have two responses.

We either take advantage of the giver, or we seek to reciprocate.

The takers among us will gravitate toward the first response. In their minds, nothing needs to be exchanged. The giver is like a fire hose of free stuff. Might as well keep going back to the well.

For other recipients of generosity, conscience reigns supreme. These people recognize that the giver sacrificed something for their benefit, and they feel obliged to sacrifice something of their own to even up the score.

It might seem like one of these responses is worse than the other. But each is equally damaging to the giver.

You see, givers believe that a rising tide lifts all boats, and they’re committed to making a positive difference. They feel deep empathy for the cause they devote themselves to.

This is not a feeling they can just turn on or turn off. Every opportunity to help others in need is one they identify with. They simply can’t say no.

This empathy leaves givers open to being taken advantage of. Even if they recognize that they’re being used, givers identify with the plight presented to them more than the malicious intent behind it. They feel compelled to swoop in and save the day.

But this empathy also leaves givers open to being subverted. The one-for-you, one-for-me nature of a reciprocity offer undermines the giver. It wipes out any notion of common empathy in favor of obligation. And this makes the giver feel as if the purpose of their generosity was misunderstood.

When givers decline this quid pro quo offer, they will often follow up with a new act generosity toward the same recipient. The hope is that the second time is the charm. But this action unintentionally opens the door to more misunderstanding and potentially, further exploitation.

Both examples add to the emotional burden that givers carry. They make life harder for the giver. And they place the long-term viability of their actions that much more in doubt.

At some point, the load will be too much. At some point, the giver’s resolve will crack. And, tragically, these same recipients who have taken so much of what the giver has provided will turn around and ostracize them for breaking from their gratuitous pattern.

It’s a tragic cycle. But one that’s fully preventable.

And one that needs to me.

So, let’s change our mindset.

Let’s do right by the givers among us.

Let’s do what we can to grow the influence of generosity.

We can start this process by keeping things simple. When we receive the gift of generosity, we can respond with two words: Thank you.

This shows our appreciation to the giver, without roping them into another transaction.

But while we should demand less of the givers who have touched our lives, we should demand more of ourselves.

We should pay it forward. We should help others in the same manner that we were one assisted. And we should expect nothing in return.

If we get in the habit of doing this, we can become givers ourselves.

And the more givers there are, the more people there are to carry the burden of generosity. No longer will a saintly few will have to carry the emotional burden of so many.

These actions are within our reach. All we need to do is commit to them.

We can. And we must.

Generosity is a gift. Pass it on.

On Patriotism

Every year, as the summer nears its swell, we follow some familiar patterns.

We break out the sunglasses and fire up the grill. We jump into a body of water to cool off.

And we think about patriotism.

Yes, with Independence Day coming smack dab in the middle of the summer, we inevitably take some time to think about what it means to be American. On the significance of having pride for the Red, White and Blue.

For me, patriotism is not about burgers and hot dogs, flags or fireworks. It’s not about buzzwords like liberty or Stars and Stripes. And it’s certainly got nothing to do with the hot-button issues that have done little but divide us.

No, to me patriotism is about a black and white photo.

The photo sits on my living room wall, under my college diploma. It’s framed, dated March 8, 1945 and postmarked RTC Great Lakes. It features 124 recruits of the United States Navy, arranged in 6 rows for a group photo.

In the first row, two recruits to the left of the young man holding the Navy flag, is my grandfather.

He’s just two weeks past his 18th birthday. Baby faced and decked out in his Navy uniform, he stares toward the camera with a reserved smile. It’s his first time west of the Eastern Time Zone, yet there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

My grandfather grew up in Brooklyn during the Great Depression. There was poverty all around him, but also hope. That hope came from the relative freedom of opportunity America provided to those driven to improve their standing.

As my grandfather approached high school, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, propelling the U.S. into World War II. My grandfather quickly learned of the atrocities of dictators in Europe and Asia and was inspired to defend the way of life he’d come to know. He was determined to protect America from the grasp of totalitarian powers.

My grandfather enlisted in the Navy at age 17. There was no decision to be made, he later told me. He believed in America and felt obligated to defend it.

The journey took him further from home than ever before. He first went to Illinois for training at RTC Great Lakes. Then, it was off to Camp Pendleton in California to prepare for action in the Pacific theater.

But days before he was slated to see combat, my grandfather broke his foot in an accident in the barracks. The injury relegated him to the role of Corpsman and kept him stateside.

The ship went out to sea without my grandfather, and the Japanese quickly torpedoed it. His replacement was one of the casualties in the incident.

My grandfather’s non-combat injury saved his life. Yet, it also robbed him of the chance to defend our nation in combat. And another man made the ultimate sacrifice in his place.

My grandfather never spoke much about this dynamic — this mix of luck and guilt. He only spoke of the principles he believed in, the ones that led him to enlist in the first place.

My grandfather still believed in his mission of protecting our country, even if his role had now changed. Protecting and rehabilitating the injured was still a key part of that objective — and it’s one he took seriously.

Even when fate once again dealt him an adverse hand.

On a sunny California day, my grandfather set out on the San Francisco Bay in a small vessel. On the boat with him were several wounded midshipmen, outfitted in plaster body casts. My grandfather’s orders for the day were to take these combat veterans out fishing.

As the boat made its way through the bay, it inadvertently drifted too close to Alcatraz Island. At that time, the island included an active federal prison that housed some of America’s most notorious criminals. The island was very closely guarded.

Patrolling Coast Guard boats saw my grandfather’s vessel approaching and made large wake to steer the fishing boat away from Alcatraz. But the large swells turned the boat almost sideways, sending some of the injured men into the water.

My grandfather jumped into the frigid waters of the bay to retrieve them. But the plaster body casts weighed the men down, and he couldn’t lift them back onto the boat. He couldn’t save them.

It was the cruelest form of irony. These men, injured in combat, meeting their end stateside in a series of unfortunate circumstances. My grandfather, powerless in his attempt to rescue them.

“I wish, to this day, that I could have saved them,” he told me years later.

It was my grandfather’s biggest regret in life.

My grandfather passed away a couple of years ago. But he lives on in sprit, through that picture on my wall.

I think of my grandfather each day. Of the decision he made to defend our nation at such an early age. I couldn’t be prouder of him for that.

But mostly, I think of that fateful day on the bay. Of the one sad story my grandfather told amidst a lifetime of happy ones.

There’s no doubt the story is deeply tragic. But I feel it also encapsulates what patriotism is about.

Patriotism is about jumping into the unknown to help our neighbors. And about the remorse we feel if anyone is left behind — plaster body cast or not.

For no matter the color of our skin, the city we call home or the faith we observe, we are part of the same great nation. We are strongest when we are as one.

It’s our obligation to lift each other up, rather than push others down. To trade our boorish ego for humility and selflessness. To discover what’s possible through collective action.

This, to me, is the true meaning of patriotism.

It’s what my grandfather believed in. It’s what he fought for. And it’s what I will continue to strive for, in his memory.

I’d be honored if you joined me.