Gestation Period

How can you determine a person's potential? Is there a trick to it?

Toward the end of last month I spent a week with my father's mother and stepfather. Years before I was born, my grandmother divorced my biological grandfather and later married for a second time. During my time with the two of them, she told me that her second husband had seen in her a unopened flower bud that had yet to bloom. And she strongly feels that over the course of the last 30 years, she has been able to develop into the person she was supposed to become during the first 50 years of her life. Interestingly, I see in her second husband nearly all of the traits of her first husband that she says suppressed her development.

I wanted to know what my grandfather (her second husband) knew that I didn't. "How do you look inside someone and see what she's capable of? Is there a trick?" I asked. He laughed. "I have no idea. I don't think there's a trick, though."

Okay, so I didn't get an answer to that question. But I had another one: Why couldn't my grandmother see for herself that she wasn't developing to her fullest? That's a question I decided not to ask aloud.

But maybe that's just the way it is. Maybe people don't explicitly realize when their development has stalled. Maybe they have only a vague feeling of ennui. And was it in fact the characteristics of my grandmother's first husband that held her back? Were they really to blame? Or was it merely her perception of their culpability, and her subsequent resentment of them (and him), that made divorce the only course of action?

This fall I'm going back to school. It's comfortable and lazy to think it will be a period of great personal development. I say "comfortable and lazy" because it's a deferment of action. Why should I wait until then? What would the-person-I-want-to-be do in my position?

I'm off to go learn something.

Leap of Faith

(Preface: Before I say anything else, I should provide some resolution to the previous post: I've been accepted to the Booth School of Business at the University of Chicago! I found out at 5:30pm on the day of the admissions decisions. It was the perfect conclusion to an excruciatingly lengthy application process.)

In The Art of War by Sun Tzu, we are told of Hsiang Yu, an army commander who did something quite unusual. After leading his army across a river toward enemy troops, he ordered all his army's ships burned and all the cooking pots broken. Retreat and camp-making both became impossible, and there remained no alternative besides victory in combat.

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I find motivation fascinating. I'm often intrigued by the forces, great and small, that cause us to do the things we do. (If you're also fascinated by these things, check out Drive by Daniel Pink. Here's a primer.) Naturally I've been thinking a lot about business school lately. It's so expensive, I think. In fact, that was my first thought when I got the good news. I was in, but wait--do I really want to go? In an instant I switched from dying to get in to hesitant... and in the next instant I reminded myself that I was being irrational. I knew it was expensive from the get-go. It's irrational to want something for so long and stop wanting it because you get it. (Of course, to stop wanting it because you realized you only ever wanted it in the first place was because you couldn't have it is rational, but it requires an admission of previous irrationality. But if we refuse to change our minds out of a stubborn refusal to admit prior irrationality, then that too...

Anyway, why did I suddenly become hesitant? It wasn't because I suddenly got what I'd hoped for. It was because of the cost. I've never had debt before, and business school requires me to take on about six figures' worth. Now, I knew that from the moment I began applying to schools. I applied to schools that have amazing employment statistics. Every one of the schools I applied to boasts a median starting salary in excess of the (lofty) average debt students have when they graduate, and that doesn't account for the signing bonus, relocation package, and other compensation that many graduates accrue. And for me, the value proposition of business school is much more straightforward than it would be for the average applicant, who must consider lost wages and the needs of a spouse or perhaps children. But again, I've never had debt. I don't have a phobia per se, but certainly a strong aversion. I've been taught that it's bad, not to be trifled with... evil, practically. And like the vast majority of Millennials, I avoid it entirely. I've never even carried a balance on my credit card from one month to the next. Freedom from debt has allowed me freedom in other areas of life. I went to a state school that offered me a generous scholarship partly so that I'd have more freedom of choice later. There I got a degree in chemical engineering, and then bioengineering, and then I abandoned engineering because I didn't feel passionate about it. Without the pressure of student debt (and in the absence of passion), I hadn't really committed. I hadn't needed to. Attending business school will put me in a do-or-die situation. I'll need to land an internship this winter, and I'll need to get a full-time offer before graduation. I've never been in a do-or-die situation before. I've always operated over a safety net.

But wait a minute. I joined Peace Corps. I decided to do volunteer work in another country with no assurances of a future afterward. I agreed to abandon any network I had in the US and spend two years in another part of the world building a network I'd also abandon. I didn't know how to parlay the whole experience into a career; in fact I had no intention to do so. I simply decided it would enrich my life and I did it. I committed. And it worked out. Of course, I had NO IDEA what a professional risk I was taking--many of my fellow Returned Peace Corps Volunteers have been looking for work for six months now--but at least I realized that quitting prematurely was not an option.

So maybe committing to something isn't entirely new to me. Maybe I have to commit again, only now the stakes are higher. Maybe the key to success in life is committing. Getting rid of the safety net. Burning the boats, and breaking the cooking pots.

Living, Striving

I didn't post last month, but it wasn't because I forgot. I wanted to wait until I had some news.

Since the first week of January I've had my hands full working at a nonprofit during the day and doing one-on-one tutoring at nights and on weekends. I've also been waiting to hear back regarding my applications to business school. Applying to MBA programs is a process that is sometimes described as "death by a thousand cuts." It involves research, campus visits, dozens of letters of recommendation, twice as many essays, and nervewracking interviews. On top of that, applicants need to take the GMAT or GRE and the TOEFL, perhaps more than once, which is a hurdle that demands its own considerable preparation. Altogether this takes several months. Actually, the successful applicant has spent years preparing for business school "in the background" by showing leadership at school, work, and in community involvement; by outperforming his peers academically and professionally; and by assembling an impressive work history (preferably international) punctuated by frequent promotions. In fact, creating a successul application might just be the most difficult step in getting a top-tier MBA. While it's typical for schools to accept less than 20% of applicants, approximately 99% of those who begin an MBA program complete it successfully.

Yesterday I found out that Dartmouth's Tuck School of Management could not offer me a place in their incoming class. That marked the fourth school to reject my application and thus the fourth significant disappointment since I began the application process nine months ago. And I must say it's exhausting to hope for something so long and not get it. To be completely honest, I've never wanted anything as strongly as I want business school. And at the risk of sounding vain, nothing has ever come so hard. The two results are that it's emotionally trying yet stubbornly appealing.

The whole process has given me plenty of opportunity to reflect on dreams and goals. How long can a person continue to hope for something in the face of repeated denial? I suppose the answer depends on how undesirable the alternative is. Some obvious examples come to mind, such as risking one's life to escape abject subjugation. But let's stick to the question's application to professional development. I've talked to people who have been applying and re-applying to business schools for two or three years. Some are now 32, 33, 34... and they say upfront that this year is their last hope. It's common knowledge that business schools prefer applicants at an early stage of their careers; there exist executive MBA programs dedicated to those applicants with more professional experience. These unsuccessful, repeat applicants, three (or more!) times more dejected than I, somehow find the will to repeat the life-consuming process year after year, writing four essays and wrangling two recommendations and taking off work for two visits and campus interviews and paying $250 multiplied by six schools--not to mention fees associated with essay services or admissions consultants... with nothing to show for it. No discernable fruits of their labor. With every rejection, the effort required to repeat the process must grow higher and higher. It must become more and more difficult to summon the energy to try again. Or does it? Does intial rejection cause an applicant to put forth less effort, thereby weakening his application, or does he redouble his attempts?

We all know that making something unobtainable increases its allure. Kids and adults alike long for that which they cannot have. It's one of the cornerstones of the luxury goods industry. Is it possible that unsuccessful business school applicants actually have more motivation to get in after initial rejections? Do his submissions actually get stronger and stronger? Certainly everyone must give up at some point. But which man is the coward--the one too easily discouraged--and which is the fool--the one who refuses to accept defeat? Which kind of person am I? Which kind of person are you? Which would you rather be?

I'm waiting to hear from one last school. If I'm not accepted there, I'll take it to mean that I simply don't have enough work experience, or the right kind, to get in. And I'll pour all my energy into making the career change I'm striving for. The career change that I've heard is only possible through business school.

Wants and Needs

People get themselves all sorts of mixed up. Sometimes we mix up wants and needs. Sometimes we consider wants to be needs and vice versa. I was guilty of one specific example of this for a long time, but I've resolved to change.

Needs refers to things that are essential to our existence. Water, food, and oxygen are the most common examples of needs. But our existence is more than just physical, which is why there are other needs too, such as those described in Maslow's hierarchy of needs. These include achievement, friendship, and self-esteem. Wants refers to everything that makes our lives more enjoyable but isn't a need. Wants tend to vary from person to person, whereas needs don't (although the intensity of a need and method for meeting it might). The big trouble comes when we confuse wants and needs.

Beginnings and Endings

Preface:

I thought this would be a fitting inaugural post, as it marks the end of a narrowly-themed (and thus scantly updated) blog and the beginning of a broader (and hopefully more regularly updated) blog.

A lot of things are changing in my life. A new job, a new country. The end of a romantic relationship, the beginning of some remarkable friendships. Some of the things that are ending were part of my life for years; some lasted only a couple months. As new things begin in my life, I find myself wondering what (and who) will play an enduring role, and what (and who) won’t. But what specifically will last isn’t so important; what’s important is that the things that will last will do so because they contribute to my growth.

Endings are a time for reflection. As one lives the final moments, goes through the final motions, it's natural to think back on what transpired. My fellow Peace Corps volunteers and I recently had a close of service conference, signifying the end of our international engagement. The conference meant the end of being near other volunteers, some of whom I only befriended at the very end of service. It also represented the end of my immersion in a foreign culture. But my time here, although drawing to a close, marks the beginning of my interest in foreign languages and volunteering.