Keep on singing and we can go anywhere

I've never met the guy, but if I had to guess, I'd say the phrase "practice makes perfect" means a lot to Malcolm Gladwell. In fact, the "10,000-hour rule," coined in his novel Outliers argues that the key to succeeding in pretty much anything is 10,000 hours of practice. To put things in perspective, that's an hour a day for over 27 years. I think we can all agree that to some extent, this makes sense.

Recently, however, I've found myself wondering about our interest in these activities -- areas of study, extra curriculars, hobbies -- in which we succeed. Over which we pore for hours on end. Do we like these activities because we are good at them, or are we good at them because we like them? It's the classic chicken and egg. The two definitely are not interchangeable and in my opinion, cannot be boiled down to a pithy rule.

It was in the sixth grade that, for the first time, I faced the possibility of simply not being good at something: Math. After our first quiz, I received a "Notice of Low Exam Score" to be taken home and signed by my parents. It suffices to say that I wasn't too pleased with my math class after that experience. The note planted the seed in my head that I wasn't good at math (life is very black or white at the age of eleven). To some extent, it made me work harder in the class, but only to improve my grade. I associated the subject area with stress and unpleasantness in my life. And so, I disliked it. At some level, this distaste for math is still with me today. I didn't like math because well, I wasn't good at it.

Up until this point in my academic career, I've dropped only one class: AP Chemistry. I had thoroughly enjoyed my Honors Chemistry class the year prior and AP Chemistry seemed like the obvious next step. About six weeks into the AP section, however, I wanted nothing but out. After many conversations and many explanations, I was finally allowed to drop the class. But here's the kicker: When I made my dramatic exit from Period 1 AP Chemistry, I had an A+ in the class. I still remember my puzzled teacher trying to convince me to stay. You realize you're doing really well...are you sure you want to drop? My mind was set. I just wasn't enjoying the class as I would have liked, and the prospect of sticking with it for seven more months was, in my mind, simply not an option. I didn't like chemistry despite being good at it, on paper at least.

Over the course of fourteen years, I caused my dance teacher to cry two times. The first was when I was eight. I had been dancing for three hours and all the other girls had been excused. My teacher had kept me back because my performance needed work. Not only was I losing focus, but I was also generally upset that I was the worst of the lot. Finally, I lost it. This is so unfair! How come you let everyone else leave? I yelled as my eyes welled with tears. My disrespect and general disregard for the extra time my teacher was taking for me caused her to respond with tears.

Still, dance wasn't like math for me. With a dancer for a mother and a family who had a great appreciation for the art form, I wasn't ready to quit. In the end, I really liked dance, despite the trouble I was having. It didn't come easily to me, but I stuck with it. I worked hard to improve. I'm sure it was nowhere close to 10,000 hours, but practicing dance comprised of a substantial amount of my "free" time growing up.

The second time was ten years later, at a rehearsal before a two-hour solo performance. I completed my main piece, only to see my dance teacher's eyes filled with tears. But this time, it was the good kind. I'm so proud of you, she said. You've worked hard, and it really really does show. This statement profoundly moved me. It is one of the most meaningful things I've ever been told. I went forward with a continued love for dance and, as a bonus, reason to believe I was relatively good at it.

None of these anecdotes answer my initial question, but perhaps because there is no steadfast answer (correlation does not prove causation...). Liking something doesn't necessarily mean you are good at it, but at the same time being good at something doesn't always mean you'll like it. We're born "pro" at almost nothing. We have to work for what we want. And on the flip side, just being good at something is not enough. There's nothing pushing you to be even better, or the best.

In my opinion, the trick is to find something you love. Not just something you like, something you love. Because that love will give you the motivation to work hard and the drive to succeed. It will give you all the passion in the world. It will push you to be the best you can be, and maybe even the best in the world. It will make those 10,000 hours go by in a flash. And that is what they mean when they say, "time flies when you're having fun."