Our Rise at Cushing
Headmaster’s Convocation Address:
Our Rise at Cushing
September 7, 2014, Christopher J. Torino
Convergence
Roads don’t always diverge, either in the woods or out, And not all of us choose ones we later regret. Sometimes our choices lead us to something and not away, To friendship, to love, to a place that can give us joy. This place, for instance, stands ready always to greet new life, Its buildings yearning for the voices that still haunt its halls, Echoing, until they come again, the joys, triumphs, and sorrows That over the years remain behind, even if only in memory. We remember them, we who spend our lives in this place, Hoping to give them all that we hold dear in life, Hoping to show them their own beauty and the beauty around them. They come here, as so many have come, to find their own path, A road that can take them into their lives and through their lives, That way has led them, as it has so many, to this place and time, To this multifarious array of countries, colors, and faiths, All bound together by the same dreams, the same need— To find their place in the world, to find out who they are. To discover that all paths converge, in the end, And that they share that road with many who came before. —Dr. Norm Carey Cushing Academy English Teacher, 2014
Welcome Thank you, Dr. Carey for the poetry; Ms. Lee for the glimpse at Cushing history; Kat Lemieux ’15, Student Body President for your reflections in advance of the year; and Mr. Hindle, his players and singers for the music today. And my last introductory thank you, on behalf of every student with us this year, is to all of the many staff and faculty who have made not only today, but also this entire year possible. Countless hours have been spent preparing campus and all of Cushing’s inner-‐ workings for your arrival and your success here this year. Again, welcome to Cushing’s new school year. I am honored and particularly excited to welcome our new students to our school’s—to Cushing’s—150th year.
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Introduction: The Why So many tremendous details, ideas, and pieces of advice have been shared with you the past couple of days and already this afternoon, so I’ll get right into my thoughts. I want to begin by asking you this—I ask each of you students seated as part of the Cushing community here this afternoon: • Why are you here? • What is your purpose? Our purpose as a school—our why—is stated in our mission: Cushing Academy exists for students—for you. Cushing exists to educate the whole of you. As a faculty, we have spent the past two weeks renewing and deepening our commitment to educating the whole student. So, we faculty and staff know why we’re here. We know that our purpose is you and your potential you. But do you students know clearly your purpose in being here—your why? I know that many of you do, and your purpose can and should evolve. I encourage—no, actually, given how tall and intimidating I am (!), I demand—that you think about WHY YOU’RE HERE. What is your guiding purpose at Cushing? Before you go to bed tonight write down your purpose, your “why you are here at Cushing.” Whether on a piece of paper to be taped to your laptop or as the wall-‐paper on your phone, laptop, or iPad, write down and commit to your personal purpose. I even welcome you tweeting your purpose directly to me. Better yet, come by to see me. You’re now beginning a school year filled with many new and thrilling opportunities— many success and many challenges. One day you’ll ace an assessment. The next day you’ll get feedback from one of your teachers or your coach saying that you didn’t perform as well as you’d hoped. How you respond will be directly related back to your higher sense of purpose and, thus, your mindset. My remarks here this afternoon are meant to inspire your intrinsic motivation—your mindset and internal drive—to begin this new year with optimism, self-‐awareness, hard work, and collaboration. To accomplish this, I have to flash back to June for a moment. When summer begins for me, one of the most exciting prospects of summer weeks is that I finally have more time to read. By mid-‐June, I typically have a stack of 12-‐15 books that I’m optimistically certain I’ll read before summer’s end. This summer, as is the case most summers, for every one book I read, because I have more time to think about all that I might read, I add another two books to the stack. Therefore, as of this morning’s count, I read nine books this summer, but still have an unlucky 13 still in my unread stack.
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This summer my reads included: our school’s common read, The Other Wes Moore; a play entitled Doubt (which was recently made into a movie); a biography of Abraham Lincoln; a couple of books about education; a social psychology book entitled The (Honest) Truth about Dishonesty; and a book of poetry by Billy Collins. And I’m currently half way through John Irving’s In One Person (Irving is my favorite living fiction writer). Most summers I encounter and read a book that I know will have tremendous effect on my work as an educator. This summer that book was by Sarah Lewis, entitled The Rise: Creativity, the Gift of Failure, and the Search for Mastery. Lewis has an impressive résumé having served on President Obama’s Arts Policy Committee; having been selected for Oprah’s “Power List”; and also for working as a member of the faculty at Yale, where she is a Critic at the Yale University School of Art. She is also an active curator, having held positions at both the Tate Modern and The Museum of Modern Art. About the central argument of Lewis’ book The Rise, a web publication called GoodReads states the following: [The Rise is about] one of the enduring enigmas of the human experience: many of our most iconic, creative endeavors—from Nobel Prize winning discoveries to entrepreneurial inventions—are not achievements but conversions, corrections after failed attempts. Wikipedia offers the following summary of Lewis’ thesis in the book: Drawing on [Lewis’] work in the arts, The Rise offers the biography of an idea which no single current term yet captures: how the experience of what we often mistakenly call failure can furnish the ground for improbable, often iconic transformations. In essence, Lewis’ book is yet another argument for the power of failure, the power of a certain mindset and approach to achieving mastery and excellence in whatever it is that aligns with your purpose. So, I want to walk you through Lewis’ four ideas as advice or counsel for you as you identify your purpose and then strive to realize that purpose this year. In pursuit of achievement, mastery, and excellence, Lewis explains the importance of the following four essential understandings: • the critical role of play; • the propulsion of the “near win” on the road to mastery; • the power of surrender for fortitude; and • the importance of grit.
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Lewis argues that creating a mindset comprised of each of these four understandings will help you on your journeys of achievement, invention, and mastery. So, I’ll fill these ideas out in greater detail. “The Critical Role of Play” First, Lewis identifies and explains “the critical role of play.” In short, she stresses the importance of play and maintaining a playful mindset and approach in your work. Lewis states that “play is [often] considered the opposite of much that we value—heft and thoroughness” (155). Society often values seriousness of purpose and rigor without recognizing the essential role of play, of being playful. How many people in your life say things like, “You have to get serious about your school work, or you have to get serious about practicing that instrument?” These people are, in many ways, right to tell you this, but Lewis argues that such seriousness must be infused with and energized by play. Think of your favorite teachers here at Cushing, at your previous schools, and elsewhere in your life, whether they are classroom teachers, art directors, athletic coaches, dorm parents, or educators in other ways. I’m willing to bet that the vast majority of those teachers you’ve valued and learned most from have balanced their seriousness of purpose with being playful and having fun. I know that I learn best when I’m enjoying my dogged pursuit—when balancing seriousness of purpose with joy and humor. Lewis writes, “The research is becoming more and more clear about this counterintuitive fact: directed teaching is important, but learning that comes from play and spontaneous discovery is critical. Endurance is best sustained through periodic play” (158). You know this full well, don’t you? You know that you cannot buckle down and do homework effectively for six straight hours. That’s why we don’t have a six-‐hour study hall every night. That’s why experienced Cushing students know that you cannot leave all of your homework to study hall—that you’ll do better work if you spread your homework throughout the day—chipping away at it piece by piece—and then use study hall well. You know how difficult it is to go from class to class in any given day without some playful release. Because your teacher tells a funny story between problems, or has you collaborate with classmates in fun, interesting ways, you have greater endurance from class to class. Also, taking a break to have lunch with friends, or throwing a Frisbee before study hall are key to your endurance. Lewis says that “[w]hen we suppress play, danger is often close at hand. Of all species, humans… have great potential to stay supple, flexible, and to retain qualities found in children throughout our lives, one of which is the ability to play” (157). And play doesn’t simply mean throwing a Frisbee or hanging out with friends; it means maintaining a playful spirit and approach when tackling something you’re very serious about. Think about yourself as athletes or artists. I know that you likely practice best when you’re simultaneously serious and playful when drilling, when working to improve. As a
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baseball player, if I didn’t enjoy, in fact love taking ground balls from anyone who’d hit them to me, I wouldn't have been all that motivated to get better. I witnessed such play last year when one your classmates here today invited me to the 3D-‐printing workshop on the top floor of the Curry Center last spring. He toured me through and explained the exciting innovation that was happening among him and other students who spent some of their extra time teaching and learning how to print three-‐ dimensionally. These students clearly have fun at and take very seriously this work. Their significant work to learn is infused by play and discovery. “The Propulsion of the Near Win on the Road to Mastery” Second, Lewis spends considerable time in her book explaining the huge significance of, as she says, “the propulsion of the near win on the road to mastery.” By this she means that achieving a “near win”—falling just shy of a fully realized “win”—has immense power in propelling you toward mastery. In Lewis’ book, two famous quotations come to bear in thinking about “near wins.” Regarding his attempts to create an incandescent light bulb, Thomas Edison said, “I have not failed, I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” And Winston Churchill said, “Success is going from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.” Lewis argues that “a near win shifts our view of the landscape” (30). She says, “While the thrust of coming close [to achieving your goal] does not always translate into triumph, it can help us outdo ourselves” (30). With respect to how a “near win” can “shift our view of the landscape” and propel us forward toward our goal with even greater enthusiasm and commitment, Lewis explains some studies of Olympic silver medalists. She concludes that “silver medalists seemed far more frustrated and were more focused on follow-‐up competitions than those who earned bronze…” (25). She says that while bronze medalists are most often happy and satisfied to have made the medals podium, “silver medalists can be plagued by ‘if only’ thoughts about their near win” (25). Nearly winning often translates to a deeper drive—a stronger propulsion toward the end goal, toward mastery and excellence. So, the key here is that you remember that challenges, setbacks, and failures are amazing gifts and opportunities to grow and get all the closer to your goals, your purpose, your why. The mindset you bring and, thus, how you respond to challenges and failures determine not only your character, but also your achievements and well-‐being here at Cushing, in college, and beyond. Creating and maintaining this growth mindset, however, is not easy. Lewis argues that “[t]he mental discipline and flexibility required to sustain excellence [in the face of setbacks] is different, and often harder, than the exertion it took to get there [—to that point of setback—] in the first place” (27). Lewis spends an exhilarating portion of her book with a living polar explorer named Ben Saunders. Saunders “is best known for leading the first ever return journey to the South
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Pole on foot in 2013-‐14 via Shakleton and Scott’s routes, and for skiing to the North Pole in 2004” (Wikipedia). In her book, Lewis comes to understand and explain Saunders’ mindset and approach to realizing mastery and excellence. In reflecting on his first failed attempt at making the North Pole—after failing in this first momentous expedition— Saunders said that he was really down; in fact, he fell into what he described as a deep depression. Saunders said: “Depressions” set in, which “as an Englishman,… I feel sort of ashamed to say. I could only see it as a failure.” After a seemingly endless set of weeks of being laid flat, “I could only feel that I’d been sort of beaten… by this challenge.” (82) But as he came out of this, as his mindset began to rise once again, Saunders regained his growth mindset, saying: “In many senses, I’ve got an enormous amount of experience under my belt, a very hard-‐won first experience and, actually, I’ve come closer to achieving the skill than anyone in my position on the planet. I just haven’t quite finished it, so I need to get back out there and finish the job.” Two years later he tried again, before a third, successful attempt. His journey is not “a grand achievement,” but a universal one born of “trying and failing and stumbling.” (82-‐83) Lewis concludes her story about Saunders by saying that: Those that fail—or experience a near win—[to quote another explorer] “may be consoled with the knowledge that failure implants more deeply in all… the desire to excel.” The near win is a likely outcome for even the most prepared explorers. Discovery can be a gold medal quest that never ends. (85) So, what does all of this mean for us at Cushing? To me, again, this means that we must live daily here with the crystal clear understanding that failure is not only okay, but also most important. We all learn the most from our failures. While we each will celebrate many victories and successes this year, we will also encounter obstacles and fall down. We will perform well one day, and below our potential the next. And your teachers, advisors, coaches, dorm parents, and I will be there to support you—to help you learn and grow from these challenges in amazing ways. That is why, I hope, you are here: to learn and grow in amazing ways that will improve the rest of your life and the lives of others. The Power of Surrender for Fortitude Lewis next and thirdly explains “the power of surrender for fortitude”—how surrender enables you to build strength. Critical to understanding this is Lewis’ redefinition of the word “surrender.” “Surrender,” Lewis admits, “might be an imperfect word to describe it. The term is often synonymous with the white-‐flag retreat of loss in the context of battle. Yet when feelings of failure come with their own form of pain, empowerment through accepting it—surrender—and pivoting out of it can be more powerful than fighting” (70-‐ 71). She then offers the martial art of aikido as an analogy for understanding her definition of surrender. She explains that “the power in… aikido comes from strategic
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non-‐resistance” (71). “Aikido,” she says, “is the art of being thrown, falling, and standing up in a different, more stable place. It is the martial art with no kicks, the one that deals with perfecting both dimensions of life, how to go down and rise stronger” (71). Think about how this notion of “surrender,” as revealed in aikido, translates to your own life. Think about how, in pursuit of your goals, you might be “thrown,” fall, and “stand up in a different, more stable place.” Think about completing a big paper or taking a big test. Much as those who practice aikido, to perform your best as a student, you must “relax when [you] feel threatened” (71). Think again about maintaining a somewhat playful, rather than rigid mindset. Think about peacefully surrendering to and embracing your challenges rather than fighting them, rather than wishing them away (73). As Lewis says in quoting an experienced coach: Learning to accept [the] pain [of hard challenges and setbacks] and then move through it “is not just a simple mental cognitive trick”: pain is not a punishment, and pleasure is not a reward. You could argue that failure is not punishment and… success is not reward. They’re just failure and success. You can choose how you respond [to each]. (78) Along these lines, Ben Saunders said, “I’ve had to learn to become more relaxed about what I can change and disregard the rest. If I can’t change it, it’s not worth worrying about” (79). So, just to be sure, “surrender” doesn’t mean “giving in.” Lewis asserts that the power of surrender is “learning to accept” setbacks and reframe failures as “near wins” that will propel you to “move through” them toward mastery and excellence. The Importance of Grit Fourth and lastly, Lewis cites “the importance of grit.” “Grit,” Lewis writes, “is a portable skill that moves across seemingly varied interests,” meaning that you can increase your personal grit in one area of life, and its benefits can be realized in other endeavors (179). Psychologist and professor Angela Duckworth defines “grit” as “perseverance and passion for long-‐term goals.” And Lewis explains: Grit is not just a simple elbow-‐grease term for rugged persistence. It is an often invisible display of endurance that lets you stay in an uncomfortable place, work hard to improve upon a given interest, and do it again and again. It’s not just about resisting the “hourly temptations” [and distractions]… but toiling “over years,” even without positive reinforcement…. Grit is focused moxie, aided by a sustained response in the face of adversity. (169-‐70) Duckworth also said, about her own initially meandering career path: “I realized that working hard is not enough. I needed to work hard consistently on a given path to accomplish anything” (171).
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Gritty people often sound, says Duckworth, like one of her favorite actors, Will Smith. He once said, “The only thing that I see that is distinctly different about me is I’m not afraid to die on a treadmill. I will not be outworked. Period. You might have more talent than me, you might be smarter than me, you might be sexier than me; you might be all of those things…. But if we get on the treadmill together, there’s two things: You’re getting off first, or I’m gonna die. It’s really that simple.... You’re not going to outwork me.” (174) Maintaining a gritty mindset requires not only a deep commitment to hard work, but also an understanding that having grand goals and a higher purpose is essential, but that achieving them requires, as I’m sure you’ve heard over the years, setting achievable steps in the long, toilsome, and I hope somewhat playful process. With respect to breaking down your larger goals into achievable, concrete steps, Saunders, in his journey to the South Pole, said to himself, “All I’m going to think about is getting to that bit of ice there, that’s thirty feet away, and when I get there, if I get there, that will be a success” (66). Think about your nightly homework. Think about that extra half-‐mile on the treadmill. Think about one more pass through those flashcards. An extra ten minutes with the friend in need. Double-‐ or triple-‐checking your work on an equation, experiment, or song. How gritty are you? How do you respond when your challenges get repetitive and more difficult? Lewis tells one more story that I love. She wrote about Sara Blakely’s childhood dinner table. Blakely is an entrepreneur and the founder of the company Spanx, and “as of September 2013, Sara Blakely [was] the youngest… female billionaire in history” (celebritynetworth.com). Lewis writes: At the dinner table while growing up, Sara Blakely’s father regularly asked her and her siblings, “What did you fail at today?” She and her brother disclosed their failed attempts at school activities like sports tryouts. After each one, [her father] raved [about their failures] the way other parents might over a stellar report card…. [Blakely] attributes [her success], in large part, to her father’s childhood reconditioning about failure and its definition. Failure became not the outcome, but the refused attempt. (111) Yet again, this is an example of redefining challenges, setbacks, and failures—redefining them as opportunities for growth, for learning, improvement, and realizing your higher goals and purposes. Conclusion These are my reflections for you on Sarah Lewis’ book The Rise. In pursuit of your own and our community’s achievement, mastery, and excellence, remember her four essential understandings: • the critical role of play;
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• • •
the propulsion of the “near win” on the road to mastery; the power of surrender for fortitude and strength; and the importance of grit.
Creating and maintaining a mindset comprised of each of these four will, I hope, enable you to realize WHY you’re at Cushing, what your purpose is here. * * * * * Today, we begin a year that will include our school’s 150th birthday. And since our founding in 1865, Cushing Academy has existed for students. We exist for all of you seated here in front of me. And the faculty and I have spent considerable time and energy preparing to devote the whole of ourselves to each of you individually and to all of you collectively. In this spirit, I again welcome you all to another school year, to this moment in this beautiful space. Our school rituals are important. Here, on Drew Common, we begin together as a bookend opposite graduation—the start of an old and new cycle that culminates in the commencement of a new journey for all of you seniors seated here in front. Seniors, Class of 2015, just in case you are wondering, by my rough count, you have only 152 school days until your Cushing graduation! Make the most of each one of them. We the faculty and your younger classmates call on you Seniors to lead our school community in positive and transformative ways. We should be grateful for the tremendous opportunity we are fortunate enough to have in being with each other here at Cushing. With all of this said, I wish each one of us the best of luck.
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Our Rise at Cushing
September 7, 2014, Christopher J. Torino
Convergence
Roads don’t always diverge, either in the woods or out, And not all of us choose ones we later regret. Sometimes our choices lead us to something and not away, To friendship, to love, to a place that can give us joy. This place, for instance, stands ready always to greet new life, Its buildings yearning for the voices that still haunt its halls, Echoing, until they come again, the joys, triumphs, and sorrows That over the years remain behind, even if only in memory. We remember them, we who spend our lives in this place, Hoping to give them all that we hold dear in life, Hoping to show them their own beauty and the beauty around them. They come here, as so many have come, to find their own path, A road that can take them into their lives and through their lives, That way has led them, as it has so many, to this place and time, To this multifarious array of countries, colors, and faiths, All bound together by the same dreams, the same need— To find their place in the world, to find out who they are. To discover that all paths converge, in the end, And that they share that road with many who came before. —Dr. Norm Carey Cushing Academy English Teacher, 2014
Welcome Thank you, Dr. Carey for the poetry; Ms. Lee for the glimpse at Cushing history; Kat Lemieux ’15, Student Body President for your reflections in advance of the year; and Mr. Hindle, his players and singers for the music today. And my last introductory thank you, on behalf of every student with us this year, is to all of the many staff and faculty who have made not only today, but also this entire year possible. Countless hours have been spent preparing campus and all of Cushing’s inner-‐ workings for your arrival and your success here this year. Again, welcome to Cushing’s new school year. I am honored and particularly excited to welcome our new students to our school’s—to Cushing’s—150th year.
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Introduction: The Why So many tremendous details, ideas, and pieces of advice have been shared with you the past couple of days and already this afternoon, so I’ll get right into my thoughts. I want to begin by asking you this—I ask each of you students seated as part of the Cushing community here this afternoon: • Why are you here? • What is your purpose? Our purpose as a school—our why—is stated in our mission: Cushing Academy exists for students—for you. Cushing exists to educate the whole of you. As a faculty, we have spent the past two weeks renewing and deepening our commitment to educating the whole student. So, we faculty and staff know why we’re here. We know that our purpose is you and your potential you. But do you students know clearly your purpose in being here—your why? I know that many of you do, and your purpose can and should evolve. I encourage—no, actually, given how tall and intimidating I am (!), I demand—that you think about WHY YOU’RE HERE. What is your guiding purpose at Cushing? Before you go to bed tonight write down your purpose, your “why you are here at Cushing.” Whether on a piece of paper to be taped to your laptop or as the wall-‐paper on your phone, laptop, or iPad, write down and commit to your personal purpose. I even welcome you tweeting your purpose directly to me. Better yet, come by to see me. You’re now beginning a school year filled with many new and thrilling opportunities— many success and many challenges. One day you’ll ace an assessment. The next day you’ll get feedback from one of your teachers or your coach saying that you didn’t perform as well as you’d hoped. How you respond will be directly related back to your higher sense of purpose and, thus, your mindset. My remarks here this afternoon are meant to inspire your intrinsic motivation—your mindset and internal drive—to begin this new year with optimism, self-‐awareness, hard work, and collaboration. To accomplish this, I have to flash back to June for a moment. When summer begins for me, one of the most exciting prospects of summer weeks is that I finally have more time to read. By mid-‐June, I typically have a stack of 12-‐15 books that I’m optimistically certain I’ll read before summer’s end. This summer, as is the case most summers, for every one book I read, because I have more time to think about all that I might read, I add another two books to the stack. Therefore, as of this morning’s count, I read nine books this summer, but still have an unlucky 13 still in my unread stack.
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This summer my reads included: our school’s common read, The Other Wes Moore; a play entitled Doubt (which was recently made into a movie); a biography of Abraham Lincoln; a couple of books about education; a social psychology book entitled The (Honest) Truth about Dishonesty; and a book of poetry by Billy Collins. And I’m currently half way through John Irving’s In One Person (Irving is my favorite living fiction writer). Most summers I encounter and read a book that I know will have tremendous effect on my work as an educator. This summer that book was by Sarah Lewis, entitled The Rise: Creativity, the Gift of Failure, and the Search for Mastery. Lewis has an impressive résumé having served on President Obama’s Arts Policy Committee; having been selected for Oprah’s “Power List”; and also for working as a member of the faculty at Yale, where she is a Critic at the Yale University School of Art. She is also an active curator, having held positions at both the Tate Modern and The Museum of Modern Art. About the central argument of Lewis’ book The Rise, a web publication called GoodReads states the following: [The Rise is about] one of the enduring enigmas of the human experience: many of our most iconic, creative endeavors—from Nobel Prize winning discoveries to entrepreneurial inventions—are not achievements but conversions, corrections after failed attempts. Wikipedia offers the following summary of Lewis’ thesis in the book: Drawing on [Lewis’] work in the arts, The Rise offers the biography of an idea which no single current term yet captures: how the experience of what we often mistakenly call failure can furnish the ground for improbable, often iconic transformations. In essence, Lewis’ book is yet another argument for the power of failure, the power of a certain mindset and approach to achieving mastery and excellence in whatever it is that aligns with your purpose. So, I want to walk you through Lewis’ four ideas as advice or counsel for you as you identify your purpose and then strive to realize that purpose this year. In pursuit of achievement, mastery, and excellence, Lewis explains the importance of the following four essential understandings: • the critical role of play; • the propulsion of the “near win” on the road to mastery; • the power of surrender for fortitude; and • the importance of grit.
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Lewis argues that creating a mindset comprised of each of these four understandings will help you on your journeys of achievement, invention, and mastery. So, I’ll fill these ideas out in greater detail. “The Critical Role of Play” First, Lewis identifies and explains “the critical role of play.” In short, she stresses the importance of play and maintaining a playful mindset and approach in your work. Lewis states that “play is [often] considered the opposite of much that we value—heft and thoroughness” (155). Society often values seriousness of purpose and rigor without recognizing the essential role of play, of being playful. How many people in your life say things like, “You have to get serious about your school work, or you have to get serious about practicing that instrument?” These people are, in many ways, right to tell you this, but Lewis argues that such seriousness must be infused with and energized by play. Think of your favorite teachers here at Cushing, at your previous schools, and elsewhere in your life, whether they are classroom teachers, art directors, athletic coaches, dorm parents, or educators in other ways. I’m willing to bet that the vast majority of those teachers you’ve valued and learned most from have balanced their seriousness of purpose with being playful and having fun. I know that I learn best when I’m enjoying my dogged pursuit—when balancing seriousness of purpose with joy and humor. Lewis writes, “The research is becoming more and more clear about this counterintuitive fact: directed teaching is important, but learning that comes from play and spontaneous discovery is critical. Endurance is best sustained through periodic play” (158). You know this full well, don’t you? You know that you cannot buckle down and do homework effectively for six straight hours. That’s why we don’t have a six-‐hour study hall every night. That’s why experienced Cushing students know that you cannot leave all of your homework to study hall—that you’ll do better work if you spread your homework throughout the day—chipping away at it piece by piece—and then use study hall well. You know how difficult it is to go from class to class in any given day without some playful release. Because your teacher tells a funny story between problems, or has you collaborate with classmates in fun, interesting ways, you have greater endurance from class to class. Also, taking a break to have lunch with friends, or throwing a Frisbee before study hall are key to your endurance. Lewis says that “[w]hen we suppress play, danger is often close at hand. Of all species, humans… have great potential to stay supple, flexible, and to retain qualities found in children throughout our lives, one of which is the ability to play” (157). And play doesn’t simply mean throwing a Frisbee or hanging out with friends; it means maintaining a playful spirit and approach when tackling something you’re very serious about. Think about yourself as athletes or artists. I know that you likely practice best when you’re simultaneously serious and playful when drilling, when working to improve. As a
4
baseball player, if I didn’t enjoy, in fact love taking ground balls from anyone who’d hit them to me, I wouldn't have been all that motivated to get better. I witnessed such play last year when one your classmates here today invited me to the 3D-‐printing workshop on the top floor of the Curry Center last spring. He toured me through and explained the exciting innovation that was happening among him and other students who spent some of their extra time teaching and learning how to print three-‐ dimensionally. These students clearly have fun at and take very seriously this work. Their significant work to learn is infused by play and discovery. “The Propulsion of the Near Win on the Road to Mastery” Second, Lewis spends considerable time in her book explaining the huge significance of, as she says, “the propulsion of the near win on the road to mastery.” By this she means that achieving a “near win”—falling just shy of a fully realized “win”—has immense power in propelling you toward mastery. In Lewis’ book, two famous quotations come to bear in thinking about “near wins.” Regarding his attempts to create an incandescent light bulb, Thomas Edison said, “I have not failed, I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” And Winston Churchill said, “Success is going from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.” Lewis argues that “a near win shifts our view of the landscape” (30). She says, “While the thrust of coming close [to achieving your goal] does not always translate into triumph, it can help us outdo ourselves” (30). With respect to how a “near win” can “shift our view of the landscape” and propel us forward toward our goal with even greater enthusiasm and commitment, Lewis explains some studies of Olympic silver medalists. She concludes that “silver medalists seemed far more frustrated and were more focused on follow-‐up competitions than those who earned bronze…” (25). She says that while bronze medalists are most often happy and satisfied to have made the medals podium, “silver medalists can be plagued by ‘if only’ thoughts about their near win” (25). Nearly winning often translates to a deeper drive—a stronger propulsion toward the end goal, toward mastery and excellence. So, the key here is that you remember that challenges, setbacks, and failures are amazing gifts and opportunities to grow and get all the closer to your goals, your purpose, your why. The mindset you bring and, thus, how you respond to challenges and failures determine not only your character, but also your achievements and well-‐being here at Cushing, in college, and beyond. Creating and maintaining this growth mindset, however, is not easy. Lewis argues that “[t]he mental discipline and flexibility required to sustain excellence [in the face of setbacks] is different, and often harder, than the exertion it took to get there [—to that point of setback—] in the first place” (27). Lewis spends an exhilarating portion of her book with a living polar explorer named Ben Saunders. Saunders “is best known for leading the first ever return journey to the South
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Pole on foot in 2013-‐14 via Shakleton and Scott’s routes, and for skiing to the North Pole in 2004” (Wikipedia). In her book, Lewis comes to understand and explain Saunders’ mindset and approach to realizing mastery and excellence. In reflecting on his first failed attempt at making the North Pole—after failing in this first momentous expedition— Saunders said that he was really down; in fact, he fell into what he described as a deep depression. Saunders said: “Depressions” set in, which “as an Englishman,… I feel sort of ashamed to say. I could only see it as a failure.” After a seemingly endless set of weeks of being laid flat, “I could only feel that I’d been sort of beaten… by this challenge.” (82) But as he came out of this, as his mindset began to rise once again, Saunders regained his growth mindset, saying: “In many senses, I’ve got an enormous amount of experience under my belt, a very hard-‐won first experience and, actually, I’ve come closer to achieving the skill than anyone in my position on the planet. I just haven’t quite finished it, so I need to get back out there and finish the job.” Two years later he tried again, before a third, successful attempt. His journey is not “a grand achievement,” but a universal one born of “trying and failing and stumbling.” (82-‐83) Lewis concludes her story about Saunders by saying that: Those that fail—or experience a near win—[to quote another explorer] “may be consoled with the knowledge that failure implants more deeply in all… the desire to excel.” The near win is a likely outcome for even the most prepared explorers. Discovery can be a gold medal quest that never ends. (85) So, what does all of this mean for us at Cushing? To me, again, this means that we must live daily here with the crystal clear understanding that failure is not only okay, but also most important. We all learn the most from our failures. While we each will celebrate many victories and successes this year, we will also encounter obstacles and fall down. We will perform well one day, and below our potential the next. And your teachers, advisors, coaches, dorm parents, and I will be there to support you—to help you learn and grow from these challenges in amazing ways. That is why, I hope, you are here: to learn and grow in amazing ways that will improve the rest of your life and the lives of others. The Power of Surrender for Fortitude Lewis next and thirdly explains “the power of surrender for fortitude”—how surrender enables you to build strength. Critical to understanding this is Lewis’ redefinition of the word “surrender.” “Surrender,” Lewis admits, “might be an imperfect word to describe it. The term is often synonymous with the white-‐flag retreat of loss in the context of battle. Yet when feelings of failure come with their own form of pain, empowerment through accepting it—surrender—and pivoting out of it can be more powerful than fighting” (70-‐ 71). She then offers the martial art of aikido as an analogy for understanding her definition of surrender. She explains that “the power in… aikido comes from strategic
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non-‐resistance” (71). “Aikido,” she says, “is the art of being thrown, falling, and standing up in a different, more stable place. It is the martial art with no kicks, the one that deals with perfecting both dimensions of life, how to go down and rise stronger” (71). Think about how this notion of “surrender,” as revealed in aikido, translates to your own life. Think about how, in pursuit of your goals, you might be “thrown,” fall, and “stand up in a different, more stable place.” Think about completing a big paper or taking a big test. Much as those who practice aikido, to perform your best as a student, you must “relax when [you] feel threatened” (71). Think again about maintaining a somewhat playful, rather than rigid mindset. Think about peacefully surrendering to and embracing your challenges rather than fighting them, rather than wishing them away (73). As Lewis says in quoting an experienced coach: Learning to accept [the] pain [of hard challenges and setbacks] and then move through it “is not just a simple mental cognitive trick”: pain is not a punishment, and pleasure is not a reward. You could argue that failure is not punishment and… success is not reward. They’re just failure and success. You can choose how you respond [to each]. (78) Along these lines, Ben Saunders said, “I’ve had to learn to become more relaxed about what I can change and disregard the rest. If I can’t change it, it’s not worth worrying about” (79). So, just to be sure, “surrender” doesn’t mean “giving in.” Lewis asserts that the power of surrender is “learning to accept” setbacks and reframe failures as “near wins” that will propel you to “move through” them toward mastery and excellence. The Importance of Grit Fourth and lastly, Lewis cites “the importance of grit.” “Grit,” Lewis writes, “is a portable skill that moves across seemingly varied interests,” meaning that you can increase your personal grit in one area of life, and its benefits can be realized in other endeavors (179). Psychologist and professor Angela Duckworth defines “grit” as “perseverance and passion for long-‐term goals.” And Lewis explains: Grit is not just a simple elbow-‐grease term for rugged persistence. It is an often invisible display of endurance that lets you stay in an uncomfortable place, work hard to improve upon a given interest, and do it again and again. It’s not just about resisting the “hourly temptations” [and distractions]… but toiling “over years,” even without positive reinforcement…. Grit is focused moxie, aided by a sustained response in the face of adversity. (169-‐70) Duckworth also said, about her own initially meandering career path: “I realized that working hard is not enough. I needed to work hard consistently on a given path to accomplish anything” (171).
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Gritty people often sound, says Duckworth, like one of her favorite actors, Will Smith. He once said, “The only thing that I see that is distinctly different about me is I’m not afraid to die on a treadmill. I will not be outworked. Period. You might have more talent than me, you might be smarter than me, you might be sexier than me; you might be all of those things…. But if we get on the treadmill together, there’s two things: You’re getting off first, or I’m gonna die. It’s really that simple.... You’re not going to outwork me.” (174) Maintaining a gritty mindset requires not only a deep commitment to hard work, but also an understanding that having grand goals and a higher purpose is essential, but that achieving them requires, as I’m sure you’ve heard over the years, setting achievable steps in the long, toilsome, and I hope somewhat playful process. With respect to breaking down your larger goals into achievable, concrete steps, Saunders, in his journey to the South Pole, said to himself, “All I’m going to think about is getting to that bit of ice there, that’s thirty feet away, and when I get there, if I get there, that will be a success” (66). Think about your nightly homework. Think about that extra half-‐mile on the treadmill. Think about one more pass through those flashcards. An extra ten minutes with the friend in need. Double-‐ or triple-‐checking your work on an equation, experiment, or song. How gritty are you? How do you respond when your challenges get repetitive and more difficult? Lewis tells one more story that I love. She wrote about Sara Blakely’s childhood dinner table. Blakely is an entrepreneur and the founder of the company Spanx, and “as of September 2013, Sara Blakely [was] the youngest… female billionaire in history” (celebritynetworth.com). Lewis writes: At the dinner table while growing up, Sara Blakely’s father regularly asked her and her siblings, “What did you fail at today?” She and her brother disclosed their failed attempts at school activities like sports tryouts. After each one, [her father] raved [about their failures] the way other parents might over a stellar report card…. [Blakely] attributes [her success], in large part, to her father’s childhood reconditioning about failure and its definition. Failure became not the outcome, but the refused attempt. (111) Yet again, this is an example of redefining challenges, setbacks, and failures—redefining them as opportunities for growth, for learning, improvement, and realizing your higher goals and purposes. Conclusion These are my reflections for you on Sarah Lewis’ book The Rise. In pursuit of your own and our community’s achievement, mastery, and excellence, remember her four essential understandings: • the critical role of play;
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• • •
the propulsion of the “near win” on the road to mastery; the power of surrender for fortitude and strength; and the importance of grit.
Creating and maintaining a mindset comprised of each of these four will, I hope, enable you to realize WHY you’re at Cushing, what your purpose is here. * * * * * Today, we begin a year that will include our school’s 150th birthday. And since our founding in 1865, Cushing Academy has existed for students. We exist for all of you seated here in front of me. And the faculty and I have spent considerable time and energy preparing to devote the whole of ourselves to each of you individually and to all of you collectively. In this spirit, I again welcome you all to another school year, to this moment in this beautiful space. Our school rituals are important. Here, on Drew Common, we begin together as a bookend opposite graduation—the start of an old and new cycle that culminates in the commencement of a new journey for all of you seniors seated here in front. Seniors, Class of 2015, just in case you are wondering, by my rough count, you have only 152 school days until your Cushing graduation! Make the most of each one of them. We the faculty and your younger classmates call on you Seniors to lead our school community in positive and transformative ways. We should be grateful for the tremendous opportunity we are fortunate enough to have in being with each other here at Cushing. With all of this said, I wish each one of us the best of luck.
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