The Journey Matters

At our recent commencement exercises, graduating senior Duncan Orlander '12 delivered a thoughtful, mature speech about the value of hard work above and beyond the outcomes hard work may produce. This relationship between the perceived value of hard work and the results it can generate is a curious one. On one hand, we are often motivated by the rewards of our labor. On the other hand, in the final analysis the reward is often not what matters; the hard work matters – the grit and determination, the lessons learned, and the friendships cemented. It's a strange paradox: Be motivated by the trophy, but don't let the trophy determine the value of the journey. Some may say the latter is just salve on the wound – a way to make ourselves feel better after we fail to meet the goal.

I don't think that’s true. 

I don't think the journey and the outcome are irreconcilable. You can be motivated by the goal and still love the process of getting there. When this happens, you find meaning in your endeavors regardless of the results. When the outcome is the only thing that matters, it's easy to end up like the Ivy League freshman profiled in a recent New York Times article about using stimulants to enhance performance:

“‘People would have never looked at me and thought I used drugs like that – I wasn’t that kid,” said Madeleine, who has just completed her freshman year at an Ivy League college and continues to use stimulants occasionally. “It wasn’t that hard of a decision. Do I want only four hours of sleep and be a mess, and then underperform on the test and then in field hockey? Or make the teachers happy and the coach happy and get good grades, get into a good college and make my parents happy?’” 

I suspect this young lady lived to fulfill the expectations of others, and thus, no meaning could be found in the journey. How sad! 

In a recent television appearance, a Columbia University professor lamented the diminished role of college as a means for young people to discover who they are. The professor freely acknowledged that college needs to prepare students for the working world. But the balance of power at many selective colleges has gradually shifted significantly toward credentialing, and thus college has often become simply a means to an end. The journey has lost its luster and discovering who you are plays second fiddle to a big job, regardless of the compromises to your essential being. 

So, thank you, Duncan, for understanding and highlighting the importance of the journey. The journey matters because it has the potential to shape your character and feed your most authentic self. And sometimes, for good measure, you get the trophy too.

Setting High Standards and Pursuing Passions

As I read David Brooks' brilliant editorial, "The Creative Monopoly," I could not help but think of Rivers and its mission. For some people, I suspect, The Rivers School “motto,” "Excellence with Humanity," presents a bit of a dilemma. The initial thought may be that excellence requires constant struggle, a super-competitive mindset, and a focus on defeating those around you in order to win the prize. Brooks acknowledges the importance of a competitive spirit but, he argues, that spirit taken to the nth degree can also stifle creativity and squash the discovery of individual passion. He writes:

“…students have to jump through ever-more demanding, preassigned academic hoops. Instead of developing a passion for one subject, they're rewarded for becoming professional students, getting great grades across all subjects, regardless of their intrinsic interests… they move into a ranking system in which the most competitive college, program, and employment opportunity is deemed the best. There is a status funnel pointing to the most competitive colleges and banks and companies, regardless of their appropriateness… Competition has trumped value-creation. In this and other ways, the competitive arena undermines innovation.”

This certainly describes the prep school I attended. As students, we were taught to compete; school was a form of academic boot camp. Learning was not intended to be fun or social; the only satisfaction we might glean from the experience was the bond of having all survived each learning experience. We counted ourselves as tougher than others; creativity, imagination, and passion all took a back seat to learning how to compete.

Rivers is different. It's true that we teach our students how to compete. We challenge them with high standards and a rigorous program. But learning how to compete at Rivers shares the spotlight with discovering talents and igniting passions. We demand students use their imaginations in order to cultivate their creative spirit. This calibration – this balance between teaching students how to compete while also fostering their creative spirit, their humanity – is the Rivers Way. It is sometimes difficult to understand this balance because we often spend a great deal of time in the "competitive myopia" as Brooks calls it. That myopia undermines innovation; it also undermines true happiness – people using their talents and passions to make the world a better place.

Expressing Gratitude

Last week I had the privilege of listening to one of our seniors, Alejandra Gil, talk about her experience as an immigrant from Colombia. Alejandra's senior speech focused on the sacrifices of her parents, especially her father, in order to give her the opportunity for a better life. Overwhelmed by her feelings of gratitude, she broke down in tears a few times but courageously finished delivering the speech. The Rivers community responded with a rare standing ovation.

Alejandra's speech poignantly reminded me of the importance of gratitude in our lives. When I first became a head of school in Hawaii, I thought little about gratitude. I took for granted that teachers and administrators would do their jobs. I saw the value of their work as a means to an end – getting our students to the finish line of graduation. I was often so focused, I didn't adequately express my gratitude.

How shortsighted!

Ultimately, the expression of gratitude is our path to connecting with others and an affirmation that it's easier to get through this thing called life together than alone. In the school business, gratitude is critical because it nourishes the spirit of teachers, reminding them of why they got into this business in the first place – to make a positive difference in the lives of others. To express appreciation for their extraordinary efforts is to acknowledge the value of their calling and the purpose of their lives.

But a wonderful byproduct of expressing gratitude is entirely selfish. At the end of the day I am happier being a grateful person than an ungrateful person. I sometimes need to be reminded of this. Thank you to Alejandra for doing so!

"Hope is a Good Thing"

On Friday, I watched Rivers students perform Man of La Mancha. The performances were captivating, and the young Rivers thespians earned a standing ovation. The play presents the struggle with the age-old conflict between delusion and hope – the romantic vision versus the practical reality. In the end, despite the misguided, fanciful antics of Don Quixote, hope seems to win. Quixote's romantic vision softens the heart of Aldonza/Dulcinea, almost erasing the grit and grime of her soul so she can find compassion and reach out to the man who believed in her.

"Hope is a good thing." Remember that line from the Shawshank Redemption. The pragmatists wrongly believe that hope is about the future, about a misguided, unfounded prediction of what will happen. Hope is about the present; it's about finding ways to sustain ourselves when life goes terribly wrong. And it works, not always in the way that we intend, but it works. Aldonza became Dulcinea because Don Quixote saw her and treated her with respect and even reverence. It was his romantic vision that changed her. Once she accepted that vision – in essence once she accepted his love – she could rise above her self-absorbed life to find meaning.

A friend of mine once said of hope: "Act as if it's real, and see how your life is changed." A big thank you to the Rivers actors for reminding me of this lesson.

How Art Prepares Students for a Changing World

Rivers' recent results from the Boston Globe Scholastic Art Awards competition remind me of the importance of art in preparing our students for a changing world. Fifty-one Rivers students garnered recognition including 10 Gold Key recipients. It's an astounding achievement, and a testament to our superior art faculty and talented students.

So, why should we care about art in secondary education? Why does Rivers insist on a two-year art requirement when most schools require just one? After all, many colleges do not consider art grades when evaluating student applications. When I came to Rivers in 1997 these were questions I asked with an eye toward reducing the prominence of art in the curriculum. But after a few years, I became a convert, and now I'm a "true believer."

Here's why: Art demands that students use the skills of an entrepreneur. The student must use her imagination to create a vision. That vision must be adjusted to match her skills. In other words, vision and execution are bound to each other. The student must then be open to mid-course changes as she executes her plan. And finally, she must have standards by which to evaluate each step of the process. What other subject so consistently demands imagination, vision, creativity, execution, mid-course adjustments, and honest evaluation? These are the skills that will make a difference in the 21st century. These are the skills of an entrepreneur.

Art matters for a variety of reasons, not least of which is the cultivation of important skills not always found in the traditional disciplines.