This past week, I talked with a student who has been struggling academically. This student is motivated by personal reasons to be in the field he is in, but he has yet to be able to put the concepts together to create a winning formula. As someone who has been the underdog in many situations, I naturally root for and support this student to the best of my capabilities. When he told me that he was going to be on academic probation, my heart sank; however, he lifted my heart when, in the next sentence, he acknowledged that the only person he has to blame is himself. I commended him on that sense of personal responsibility and ownership. At Vanderbilt, the school has a wonderful quote from former Dean Madison Sarratt that it uses frequently to build proper character:
Today I am going to give you two examinations, one in trigonometry and one in honesty. I hope you will pass them both, but if you must fail one, let it be trigonometry, for there are many good [people] in this world today who cannot pass an examination in trigonometry, but there are no good [people] in the world who cannot pass an examination in honesty.
What my student did was pass the test in honesty and integrity. He may not have passed his course work, but he passed the important tests. I commended him on this achievement, and I reminded him that there are many people in his profession who do not take responsibility for their own mistakes. Turning this to be more personal, in this past year or so, I have cultivated my honesty and integrity. I can't think of anyone ever doubting my honesty and integrity before, but, to be honest, I didn't fail that many times before (with that being more of a statement about safely choosing the length of my next step for advancement and less about me being a rockstar). This past year, I reached out and tried something completely new. I moved from having professors, judges, and partners guide me to being the professor and guiding others. I had little guidance, and I was the one doing the guiding. I failed. And I failed a lot. (Luckily, my students stuck with me. We made it through, and we all ended up learning a lot about various topics. We also bonded pretty well through that first year, and they have become my champions.) But I also developed a deep sense of owning those mistakes. I owned them, I talked about them, I didn't try to hide them: They were mine. I accepted where I was. This acceptance of my repeated failures and then constantly trying to improve was a new level of personhood for me. I was often reminded of one of my friends who worked with me as a judicial clerk -- she is brillantly intelligent, and whenever she would be instructed on judicial opinions, she would so easily embrace the instructions and feedback. I tried to be like her. I stayed open to the idea that I could learn a lot more, and I didn't take any of my mistakes as life-sentences of doom. I have noticed a general refusal to take responsibility for mistakes. It's the idea that, if I admit I made a mistake, maybe you won't want me to do X. One of the reasons I like the leaders who I like is because they admit their mistakes and their humanness. I have no use or regard for leaders, whether it be presidents or parents or department directors, who shift blame onto someone else, or worse, completely ignore any mistakes of theirs, meaning that it can't even be discussed for remedies. We have many problems to solve, as a human race, and we won't be able to solve any of them until we all take responsibility for our own parts in those problems. When it comes time to take our tests in life, remember it's not really the grade we get on the content, it's the grade we get on honesty that matters.
Today I am going to give you two examinations, one in trigonometry and one in honesty. I hope you will pass them both, but if you must fail one, let it be trigonometry, for there are many good [people] in this world today who cannot pass an examination in trigonometry, but there are no good [people] in the world who cannot pass an examination in honesty.
What my student did was pass the test in honesty and integrity. He may not have passed his course work, but he passed the important tests. I commended him on this achievement, and I reminded him that there are many people in his profession who do not take responsibility for their own mistakes. Turning this to be more personal, in this past year or so, I have cultivated my honesty and integrity. I can't think of anyone ever doubting my honesty and integrity before, but, to be honest, I didn't fail that many times before (with that being more of a statement about safely choosing the length of my next step for advancement and less about me being a rockstar). This past year, I reached out and tried something completely new. I moved from having professors, judges, and partners guide me to being the professor and guiding others. I had little guidance, and I was the one doing the guiding. I failed. And I failed a lot. (Luckily, my students stuck with me. We made it through, and we all ended up learning a lot about various topics. We also bonded pretty well through that first year, and they have become my champions.) But I also developed a deep sense of owning those mistakes. I owned them, I talked about them, I didn't try to hide them: They were mine. I accepted where I was. This acceptance of my repeated failures and then constantly trying to improve was a new level of personhood for me. I was often reminded of one of my friends who worked with me as a judicial clerk -- she is brillantly intelligent, and whenever she would be instructed on judicial opinions, she would so easily embrace the instructions and feedback. I tried to be like her. I stayed open to the idea that I could learn a lot more, and I didn't take any of my mistakes as life-sentences of doom. I have noticed a general refusal to take responsibility for mistakes. It's the idea that, if I admit I made a mistake, maybe you won't want me to do X. One of the reasons I like the leaders who I like is because they admit their mistakes and their humanness. I have no use or regard for leaders, whether it be presidents or parents or department directors, who shift blame onto someone else, or worse, completely ignore any mistakes of theirs, meaning that it can't even be discussed for remedies. We have many problems to solve, as a human race, and we won't be able to solve any of them until we all take responsibility for our own parts in those problems. When it comes time to take our tests in life, remember it's not really the grade we get on the content, it's the grade we get on honesty that matters.
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