There's Beauty in the Breakdown

Today, when I hear the phrase "10,000-hour rule," I immediately consider it to be an Outliers reference. But ten years ago, the phrase by another name ("even if the earth stops spinning you will continue practicing dance") belonged to my mom. I can't decide which one sounds more intimidating, but both preach the same school of thought: practice makes perfect. A lot of practice.

Most of my life experiences support the idea that hard work, be it academic or extra-curricular, is rewarded. Any failures were directly caused by the frailty of my attempts, and to be completely honest, failure was rarely an option.

My mathematical abilities have never been especially strong. My "quick" mental calculations are far from the quickest. Still, I was always in honors and AP math classes in middle and high school. Year after year, not only did my math course present me with insurmountable stress (except AP Statistics, for some reason I was good at that), but it also took my time away from subject areas in which I was especially strong. I would rush through English reading to devote "extra time" to math homework.

It was when I went to college that I finally realized I did not need to be "good" at everything. It became more and more clear that instead, I should be "great" at one or maybe two things. If everyone was good at everything, we wouldn't need one another. 8% of the courses I took in college (3/36, how's that for some mental math) were offered by the Mathematics department. Needless to say, I did not take them for fun. They were requirements for my Psychology and Economics concentrations. I didn't need to be an amazing mathematician for either. I just required some basic skills.

Last week, we took a quiz based off Tom Rath's Strengths Finder 2.0. Results include your top five strengths from a list of thirty-four themes. Mine include strategic, individualization, achiever, developer, and learner. After taking the quiz individually, we looked at the distribution of strengths within my rotational class. Though most were represented, we were all drawn to the few that weren't, command, for example. Most of us were probably wondering how we, as a group, could work on those absent strengths.

We were told that instead, we should have been thinking about how we could make best use of the strengths we do have, a rather eye-opening proposition for me. I've grown up with the mindset of improving whatever was lacking.

One individual can't have thirty-four strengths. It's almost oxymoronic. Sometimes recognizing where you excel will take you further than harping on where you wish you could excel. We can all dabble on the side, but at the end of the day, we should be known for a unique trait or skill that we can bring to the table. Probably something based on our core strengths.

Sylvia Robinson once said, "Some people think it's holding on that makes one strong -- but sometimes, it's letting go." When I really sit down and think about it, my parents have forced me to do very little in my life. But when they did force me, with dance for example, it's because they saw some promise. They knew it was an efficient use of those 10,000 hours. So with all due respect to the founder of Sugar Hill Records, if you ask me, what makes people strong is not just letting go. It's knowing when and what to let go. In the most paradoxical of ways, gaining this knowledge will likely provide us with an unparalleled sense of empowerment.