How to Navigate Life, page 19
Friday: What made this week bad, good, or great? What was hard about it, and what got you through it? (Gratitude and adversity)
Adjust the questions as needed. These prompts work best when we role-model responses to them. To get the ball rolling, be prepared to answer first. So, if it was Monday, you might begin:
“What’s one thing that happened this week that you will remember a year from now? I’ll start…”
A word of encouragement: even if such conversations start off a bit stiff and awkward, keep hope alive. Rituals and traditions can take hold if we give them time. When we stay the course, these conversations become soul food.
Moments You Catch
Moments we make are proactive, and moments we catch are reactive. Some of the best conversations with our students are unplanned. They occur in the car on the way to school. Or on a longer road trip. They occur while shopping or making dinner together or after watching a Netflix episode. Or when someone in the family gets some bad news or suffers a loss.
There are two types of moments we catch. Something happens in the world, and we draw out its meaning. Or something happens to our student, and we draw out its meaning. The first entails filtering events in the world through the lens and language of purpose. Imagine a conversation after watching the Golden State Warriors together.
You: Why do you like the Warriors so much?
Student: I dunno, they’re good, they win a lot of championships.
[Beyond this no-brainer answer, they struggle to articulate why, so you use the language of purpose.]
You: Out of everything in the world, what do you think is most important to Steph Curry?
Student: Hmmm. Well, he does always talk about his family and faith a lot.
You: Draymond Green doesn’t seem very fast, and he’s a bad shooter—what makes him such a great player?
Student: Not sure … He seems really good at telling his teammates where to go on defense.
You: Yup, he seems to be a great facilitator and creator. He uses communication and critical thinking to his advantage.
You: What makes Steve Kerr such a great coach?
Student: He seems so calm and upbeat all the time, like a very Zen guy. Nothing ever seems to faze him.
You: Yup, and here’s a guy who’s seen a lot of trouble in his life. He lost his father to gun violence in Beirut, Lebanon, when he was just a college freshman. That tragedy inspired him to speak out on various issues, especially gun rights. [Adversity shapes the contribution/impact we are motivated to make in the world.]
As you can see, meaningful conversations don’t have to be forced. Some of the most spontaneous and playful moments are where the magic happens. When we look through the lens of purpose, we find traces of it everywhere. We can capture little moments by putting words to these experiences.
We end with a story that demonstrates what a regular practice of affirming, challenging, and advocating during moments that matter does for students and relationships.
Tim’s experiences as a school counselor in a large public high school often felt like barely contained chaos. School days were a constant stream of interruptions. Lockdown drills. Teachers who needed Tim’s support. Students in distress. Parents seeking guidance.
There was only one predictable part of Tim’s day. A senior we’ll call Ben would come to Tim’s office to “post up” during fourth period. Ben made himself at home, taking jump shots on the door-mounted basketball hoop, playing rap songs on his Bluetooth speaker, celebrating or lamenting the Boston Celtics’ performance the night before. Rain or shine, Ben never missed a visit.
In Tim’s office, Ben was charismatic, kind, with a wise and quick wit. Outside Tim’s office was a different story. Ben was always in trouble, cutting classes, arguing with teachers, and coming late to school. He failed the majority of his high school classes and attended summer school every year. Graduation seemed unlikely.
Tim’s colleagues wondered why he invested so much time in Ben. Why not focus his energies on the college-bound students who seemed more deserving of his attention?
Tim, however, recognized that this was no waste of time. He came to know a side of Ben that others had missed. Ben lived alone with his grandmother and worked thirty hours a week at a fast-food restaurant. He was remarkably independent, but didn’t have a strong support network. Sometimes, in between jump shots, he would open up about his past and current struggles and his uncertain future. These conversations provided critical context to Ben’s behavior at school.
Over time, Tim and Ben forged a rich and mutual relationship. While Ben had been defiant with most other adults out of distrust, he agreed to whatever Tim asked of him. In fact, Tim had a cadre of students like Ben—the ones not following school rules, serving detentions and suspensions, refusing to comply with assistant principals and deans. All of them were remarkably cooperative with Tim. All he had to do was ask, and it would be done.
These relationships demonstrated the power of trust and respect. These students could feel that Tim genuinely cared for and enjoyed them … and that he respected them. He saw in them their best selves. In return, they showed him mutual trust and respect.
What Really Matters
Of all the things we could possibly talk about, your students’ relationship with you is their greatest asset in cultivating a purpose mindset. Deep down, we all know this, but the demands of everyday life, the academic and career pressures we experience, and the urgency of the to-do list can make our relationships fade to the background. We mistake the urgent for the important. We can focus so much on getting things done, to build for success, that we sacrifice our relational foundations to do so. We hope this chapter serves as a reminder of what’s truly important in life, your connection with your people. When we put that at the center of our work with students, the things we hope for them—success, happiness, fulfillment—emerge as by-products in the long run. Relationship first and the rest will follow.
7
School
Listen for your call, not someone else’s.
If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s.
—JOSEPH CAMPBELL
The Call to Adventure
In 2006, a New York Times Magazine journalist, Rob Walker, conducted an experiment to test the power of storytelling.1 He collated two hundred random objects on eBay that had no intrinsic value. He asked authors to come up with made-up stories about each object. Then he reposted these objects on eBay to see if the invented stories upped the value of the objects.
They sure did. A butterfly-embossed cigarette case that he had purchased for a dime resold for $33.77. A ceramic horse bust purchased for 99 cents was resold for $62.95. An old wooden mallet purchased for $1 was resold for $29. You get the idea.
All told, the two hundred objects he bought for a total of $197 were resold for $8,000. A markup of 3,900 percent! Stories transform ordinary life and ordinary things into things of value. They help us make sense of life.
For centuries, stories have been used to pass on knowledge. A study in Nature Communications explains why—storytelling teaches social cooperation and social norms.2 Stories help us explain every aspect of our experience, from relationships to memories to science to feelings. When we hear a good story, our mind makes cognitive and emotional connections that shape our understanding of the world around us. We learn deeply from a story because we remember the underlying emotions conveyed.
A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Words
The most common stories we tell are in the form of figurative language. We use similes and metaphors six times a minute in conversation.3 They help us to grasp abstract, complex topics quickly. They do this by comparing one kind of thing in terms of another.4 They are especially good at using things in the physical world to illustrate abstract concepts.
Cool as a cucumber. Fiery temper. Sunny disposition. All are examples of using a more concrete and tangible reference (cucumber, fire, sun) to describe something abstract (emotions, attitudes, and mindsets). We use the metaphor of temperature to describe someone’s emotional state: She was cold to me. We frame arguments as battles and wars: They attacked me. I won the argument. They shot down my idea. Money helps us conceptualize time: I lost an hour. I can’t give you the time. Time is money.
A metaphor is a mental picture, and a picture says a thousand words. For instance, when we use “games” to describe the way we pursue our goals—you can picture what we’re talking about. These mental representations give us a framework for how we receive information.5 They’re like coatracks for hanging ideas.
One metaphor that is prominent in the world of education is that of a path.6 We say things like: You’re on the right path, you’re headed in the right direction, and keep going! We place students in “accelerated” courses or “pathways programs” to ensure they “pass” and don’t “drop out.” We give them “progress reports” that inform them if they are “on track.” When COVID-19 forced schools to close, parents and educators worried that students would “fall behind.”
The metaphor of a “path forward” is so embedded in the way we think about our students’ journeys that we hardly notice it’s there. Yet this metaphor insidiously permeates much of our advice and guidance for students. We imply that their journeys should be predictable and straightforward once they find the right path. The notion of a path brings to mind a continuous or linear road, with some alternative roads leading to the same destination.7 This metaphor suggests that students will be all set for success once they find the right path. So simple. No more stress about uncertain futures.
A good path feels safe because it’s well trodden and well marked. Nothing scarier than losing sight of the path and getting lost in the woods when the sun goes down. Nothing more comforting than suddenly finding the path in the same woods. Suddenly we’re not lost anymore. We know how to get to where we’re going. The promise of the path is a belief that we can predict the future. And if we can predict the future, we can control it. Hence the appealing allure of pathway parenting. In fact, most of K–12 education is designed around the premise of a path.
But here’s the rub. The path metaphor is misleading. It gives students a false sense of how life actually works. It gets them fixated on reaching the end of the path, be it graduation, acceptance into college, or a specific profession. If you think you’re on a path that leads somewhere special, you can’t help but be anxious to get there. By using the path metaphor, we set the wrong expectations for students: that their school and career journeys are like lovely, well-marked trails. All they need to do is select the right one, and it’ll lead them straight to the destination of their dreams.
The Gig Is Up
Pathway education may have made more sense in the “good old days” when people committed themselves to a company for thirty to forty years. The reward for climbing the corporate ladder (a nice straight path) was a fancy Rolex watch at retirement. In the 1960s, when the average worker held on to a job for twenty-one years, watches were flying out the door.8
This gig is over. Today, the more apt gift would be a stopwatch. In 2020, the median tenure in current jobs for all salaried employees was just four years, and for millennials less than three years.9 Current college graduates can expect to have at least fifteen career-related jobs throughout their careers. That’s a lot of change!
And it’s not just employees who are shape-shifting, it’s entire companies and industries. In the 1960s, spending your whole career as a “company” man or woman was possible because companies lasted that long. When a company made it onto the S&P 500, they could expect to last thirty to thirty-five years. That tenure will be cut in half in this decade, so many of today’s S&P 500 companies will be gone in fifteen years.10 Life spans of companies and tenures of employees are shrinking by the day. Nothing is set in stone.
Signs You Are Stuck on the Path
There is only one “right way” and several bad ones.
You are mired in either/or thinking.
You are more worried about making a wrong decision than excited about making the right one.
You feel you are traveling on someone else’s path.
Everyone is expected to go the same way.
You feel forced to choose from a set of mediocre options.
Your choice is about running away from something, rather than toward something.
The on-ramp into the workforce is just as precarious. Students are increasingly unlikely to enter fields related to their hard-earned degrees. For example, nearly half of all computer science majors enter alternative fields, and over half of engineering majors don’t become engineers.11 And these are the majors where students are most likely to find a job related to their fields. In most other majors, nine of ten graduates don’t land jobs directly related to their majors.12
These numbers, combined with alarming college dropout rates, suggest that the “straight path” from school to a stable and steady career is anything but. The notion of a “path” to financial stability is a relic of a golden era of work that no longer exists (if it ever did). Set paths are only set if you can predict the future. The only thing we can predict today is that we can’t predict much. The future will bring increasing disruption and change.
Gone are the days of gold watches and retirement traditions for lifers—those who stay on the same path their whole careers. But new doors have opened. Where previous generations based their identities on their work and corporations, young people today see their identities more openly. They come from personal convictions. Abilities. Interests. Connections they make on their own. So, while predictable paths felt safe, identities today hold greater possibilities. The American entrepreneur Ping Fu said, “I believe that behind every closed door there is an open space.”13 It’s time to step off the eroding path into those wide open fields. It’s time to tell a new story.
The Seeker’s Journey
Gone are the days when we could plan for a safe, predictable career path. But would we actually want it any other way? On a Friday night, who scans cable in search of a good ol’ predictable show? Predictable is ho-hum. Give us some conflict, tension, throw in some unexpected twists and turns, and we might just have a story worth its salt. The most iconic stories—whether they’re epic myths, fairy tales, or Hollywood blockbusters—are about people who reject the path and blaze their own way forward. Analyses of thousands of stories across cultures reveal some universal themes in what’s been called the Hero’s Journey. Think about the great books and movies you’ve loved—the protagonists find the courage to step outside their comfort zones into the unknown. They are challenged and tested. They succeed and fail, and ultimately they’re stretched in important ways.
Those who have written about the Heroine’s Journey have added themes beyond those captured by the Hero’s Journey.14 Whereas the Hero’s Journey paints a picture of events in the world that influence his behaviors and view of himself, the Heroine’s Journey captures the battle within. The search to affirm and embody wholeness. This can mean integrating various kinds of wholeness. Success and failure. Perfection and imperfection. Joy and despair. It’s a quest that emphasizes inclusiveness and persistence throughout the journey rather than a singular destination. We see what happens when people make choices that help them reclaim their authentic voices, values, and self-worth and take charge of writing their own story. We see the power of authorship for people and the world around them.
In this chapter, we introduce the Seeker’s Journey. We’ve adapted relevant themes from heroes’ and heroines’ stories to capture the true stories of our students’ journeys. Seekers are students. They’re real-life hero/ines, navigating real-life experiences. Theirs is a voyage of true courage. One that requires resisting society’s narrative of what success looks like. The Seeker’s Journey is a cautionary tale for proponents of pathway parenting, pathway education, and career paths toward fame and fortune. In place of strolls down predictable paths, protagonists embrace exploration into new, unexplored territories. They are lightning bolts of bravery and nonconformity.
The Seeker’s Journey unfolds in a series of acts, as in a play, that together offer a liberating metaphor for our students. One that frees them of set “paths” as they chart their own way.
Ordinary Person in an Ordinary World
Most stories begin with an ordinary person in an ordinary world. Luke Skywalker is a farm boy from the dusty planet of Tatooine. He rises from these humble beginnings to help save the galaxy. Katniss Everdeen is an ordinary sixteen-year-old from District 12—her ordinary world. She later sparks the overturn of a totalitarian government. Moana lives on her island protected by the reef. Dorothy begins in the prairies of Kansas …
Stories take off when the hero/ines leave the safety and security of familiar paths to fulfill their greater purpose. This is the call to adventure. Luke’s call to adventure is an urgent plea from Princess Leia delivered by R2-D2. Katniss volunteers to take her sister’s place in the Hunger Games competition. Moana goes outside the reef to find Maui and restore the heart of Te Fiti. Dorothy’s call comes when Toto—representing her intuition—is captured and escapes. Dorothy follows Toto (her instincts) and runs away from home with him.
Hero/ines respond to the call to adventure by venturing out of the comfort and predictability of their ordinary worlds. They step off their predictable paths and take a leap of faith into the unknown to achieve a dream, confront a challenge, change a life.
Seekers come to similar crossroads. They may become disillusioned with the path they’re on. They no longer see the status quo through rose-colored glasses. Their call to adventure is not always a quest; sometimes it’s a need to find peace. To step outside their comfort zones to something scarier but better. To discover who they truly are. Some question the path when they are twelve years old, others twenty years old—for some, it may not happen until they draw near retirement.
