The conference center climate control cannot correct for varying levels of belief scattered through the ballroom. Our speaker is dynamic. I’m mesmerized as he reveals his research findings to the state’s teachers of the gifted gathered at starched-linen clad tables. His claim: He has a method to increase hope in our students. How in the world do you conduct a study that requires measuring hope? In his keynote he shares stories of kids from his research and the changes to their lives. He goes on to tell his personal story, of surviving leukemia, and his perseverance in running, despite setbacks from his medical status, until he was able to complete a marathon. I am equal parts emotional and dubious.
At the time for breakout sessions, my inner critic is saying, “What greater hope can this guy share than the eternal one I already have?” The curious optimist inside argues, “You could use a dose of the perseverance he’s selling.” I part from my companions, torn about how to spend the next hour. The curious optimist follows the speaker to a smaller room where he will detail the steps taught to those students.
He starts the session with our smaller group gathered in rows of folding chairs. Across the aisle from me is a well-groomed woman in a tailored suit. When the speaker enumerates on Step 1, “Formulating a goal,” and tells us we have to do something each day that gets us closer to what we want, the sharply-dressed woman rolls her eyes and raises her hand. “Every day? I don’t have time to add one more thing to my day.” I hear her. I feel it too.
“Every single day.” The speaker reiterates. I question whether I’m able to commit to the daily pursuit of one of the “I wish” statement he just had me brainstorm. The woman across the aisle shuts down. Instead of checking out myself, I keep taking notes.
Step 2 is “Consider multiple paths.” We are to determine what paths and outcomes are available, select the most viable path, try it, and evaluate it. If the path becomes blocked or frustrated, we select another path and continue trying and evaluating paths until we have reached an acceptable outcome. But what if I can’t reach an acceptable outcome? His next step is in answer to my fear of failure.
My new guru continues: 3— “Be willing to try,” even if openness to doing my part leads to disengaging from the goal after due consideration.” 4— “Putting forth the effort.” I have to act on my plan even if I must readjust it by making my goal a little less high. 5— “Anticipate challenges.” The unexpected will appear and I must stay open to multiple, alternative routes and outcomes. 6— “Think positively,” by giving myself permission to succeed and keeping my goals simple enough at first while I strengthen my ability to persevere. 7— “Engage or disengage the goal.” I must remain open and flexible. I may not be able to attain my most desired outcome, but openness about the outcome will enhance my probability of success. 8— “Persevere in the process.” I am to continue the process automatically until I satisfy my goal. But if I disengage from the goal, I select another goal and repeat the process.
My hand is cramped from writing all this down, but it goes up in a little wave so I can ask, “And completing this process over and over again gives people hope as they see they can achieve their goals?”
Exactly.
I decide to take this process back to my middle school students and see if they will give it a try. I teach them the steps via PowerPoint slides, and we practice the process in little 10-minute lessons over the following weeks, using my desire to run a 5k as an example. They dutifully fill in the handouts I’ve made and sympathize as I explain, “Following the online 5K training plans aren’t working for me.” My first day of running I only go about three minutes before losing steam. Since the walk 10 minutes run 5 method is too hard, I devise a table whereby I will increase my running time from 3 to thirty minutes by adding 30 seconds each day.
A few days later I report to the students that I’m already readjusting. That plan was still too hard. My new chart increases by fifteen-second increments. I may be the new poster-image for breaking goals down into smaller chunks; these bites are so tiny. But I persevere. I am up at five, running 15 seconds longer than the day before, every single morning. I absolutely must stick to this.
I’ve told the students to dream big, make goals straight from their own hearts, not ones they expect teachers or parents would suggest. I give them space and privacy. But my process is out there for all to see. I share my roadblocks and they help me brainstorm ways to get around them. (Except the roadblock about needing a jogging bra the first week. I keep that one to myself.) When I report that my borrowed running shorts and t-shirt (from my husband) are causing all kinds of discomfort, Charlie calls out, “Mrs. Cutts, you need Under Armor!”
We keep checking in over the following months until I proudly announce I ran for a whole thirty minutes without stopping! Some students share with me the progress they are making. One is drafting a novel, another is advancing her dance career, yet another is working toward the skills she’ll need to get the soccer scholarship she dreams of. I hear hope in their voices. I’m not sure I can measure it, but I know I feel more bubbling up inside myself.
“What’s your next goal, Mrs. Cutts?”
I consider the secret aspirations I’m harboring. I’m not quite hopeful enough to put them out there, yet. “I think I’ll keep working on the running thing. Maybe I’ll work up to a half-marathon.”
And I do. Five of them, to be exact. And one full one, so far.
Your Turn: What hard things have you tried, stuck to, and grown from?
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