Some call this playing smart, but this could also be timidity: because we have never experienced anything other than success, our sense of self has been built around our ability to succeed, and the chance of failure is just terrifying.
Instead of dedicating our efforts to doing something wholeheartedly, we make a series of tepid commitments and hope the “options” they yield come to something. We are probably better off with more options than fewer, but I also can’t help noticing how “keeping your options open” could, more than anything, betray an intense fear of failure.
I wondered if being in an elite institution actually makes it harder to find your true calling, because saying that you want to be a great full-time mother, or the teacher who would make math fun for kids doesn’t seem that great of a return to a 60k per-annum investment. I held back after all, there is really nothing wrong with wanting to be a consultant, but I walked away from the conversation feeling slightly perturbed. “But life is not an investment decision, and you only live once!” I wanted to tell him, “How long are you going to postpone living up to what you believe in because of some nebulous ‘option’ in the offing?” I was starting to understand that it is a matter of strategy - because, as the investment banker will tell you, putting all your eggs into one basket is much riskier than if you spread it out across different investment options. “What happened to your plan of becoming a teacher? I thought you were going to fix the broken education system!” Dressed up in a spiffy suit, he told me he wanted to be a consultant. I met a friend at a recruitment event recently. The second reason confounds me: you think you have found your calling, but you want to hold off pursuing it because you need to “keep your options open” - options have become things that are good in and of themselves. Some people spend their whole life exploring, and with some luck you might. In the meantime, keep exploring until you hit on something that’s really up your alley. The first is quite understandable: you haven’t found something you’re willing to bet on, to commit to, something you believe in enough to dedicate your time to. So, when I hear people wanting to “keep their options open,” I wonder why some of us are still working so hard to put off choosing, even in such a protected environment. Silicon Valley logic of “failing faster failing often” doesn’t apply we live in what is probably the most protective bubble you could find on earth. President the first day they learned to spell the word “ambition” - is “trying.” Trying out for a new club, trying a new class, trying to find the self, whatever that last one means.Īnd Stanford does give us a lot of room to try, and try again. The one word that would come to characterize most people’s freshman year - I said “most people” because there are always the Type-A kids who knew they wanted to be Mr. Lenka’s song could well be the theme song of most Stanford students: “All I wanna be/ all I wanna be, oh/ All I wanna be is everything.” Something was changing, and you felt like you could become anybody you wanted to be.
And there was the unmistakable sense of optimism in the air, the eucalyptic scent of possibilities. Waltzing through activities fair convinced me I’d need three lifetimes, maybe more, to fully experience Stanford. I remember how it was when I first got to Stanford two years ago, feeling overwhelmed by the dizzying spread of everything on offer. It’s an uplifting message to start a starry-eyed, confused freshman on her exploration. When I ask Stanford students why they do the things they do, their answers invariably fall under one of these categories: 1) they don’t have a choice (tuition is insane these days) 2) they simply love doing it and that’s reason enough 3) they are “keeping their options open.” Increasingly I am hearing more of the third, perhaps because Stanford students live in a beckoning world with so many opportunities, they naturally want to make the most of them.Īfter all, since day one of freshman year we have been told - over and over to the point of becoming trite - to explore, to try new things, to be unafraid of reimagining yourself.