“I’m not wasting it, I’m using it”. 

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It was 9 pm on a Saturday night. This is the night of the week when our kids sleep with their grandparents (and give us a much-needed date evening)! I went downstairs to check on the boys and say goodnight, but the scene that greeted me in my in-laws’ room was seemingly one of chaos. Coloured paper was everywhere. To be specific, there were coloured paper airplanes – about 45 or 50 of them – lying about all over the room. And more were being made in rapid succession, by both boys, who had turned the in-laws’ bed into a paper-plane making factory. 

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Zohar (the older one) had made several almost perfect planes, being naturally interested in origami skills. On his planes, I could see several details. Each one had a company name (Buzz Fly), a self-designed logo with a ® symbol on it, and a model number (XYZ-3215, for example). Each one had windows and a cockpit drawn on, and upon closer inspection, I even noted that there were several variations – BUZZ-FLY JET, BUZZ-FLY CARGO, BUZZ-FLY SUPERWINGS, and so on. 

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Jaisal’s planes were all different too. But not because of the detailing. Each one was folded slightly differently, the creases were nowhere near perfect, and they really were not flying very well either (or at all). But the look on his face was pure joy. He was happy churning out his paper planes from his factory, working to whatever plan he had in his head, and that was all. 

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My mother-in-law looked a bit distraught. Perhaps because she had just ordered two sets of these lovely, buttery origami paper sheets for the kids that week. Perhaps she wanted them to look more like Zohar’s than Jaisal’s, but even then, what was the point of making 100 of exactly the same thing! Try an origami dog, fish, chair instead! Unable to hold herself back any longer, she finally said, “Jaisal, why are you wasting all the papers? Let’s use them to make something nice tomorrow.” 

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Before I could react, Zohar looked up from the task he was concentrating on (at least I thought he was completely immersed in coloring in his umpteenth BUZZ-FLY logo) and said to her, very calmly,

“He’s not wasting them daadi-mama. He’s using them.” 

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When does fear start ruling our learning?

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“To be honest”, I said later to my husband as we talked about the incident over a glass of wine, “I was probably going to say the same thing as Mom! I’m not sure if I should be happy or contrite, that a 7-year-old, completely immersed in whatever he was doing, was able to think clearly and respond so wisely in that moment! It caught both Mom and me by surprise!” 

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If you observe a baby, say at twenty months, you will see what pure immersion in a task – without any fear about the outcome - looks like. They are completely absorbed by whatever they have chosen to do. They do it multiple times, without boredom, fear or anxiety. 

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If they decide to turn their attention to two spoons, for instance, they will try different experiments– bang them on the floor, one by one or simultaneously, with each other, with something else, and every once in a while, taste them for good measure. They will keenly observe the results of each variation, repeat the actions that satisfy them, show their joy when something pleases them, and equally, show their frustration when something does not. But they will not stop or theorize. 

They will keep doing till they have accomplished whatever it is they wanted to. They will have nothing to show you for it, but they will have satisfied themselves that they did all they wanted to with the spoons. If you try to pull them away mid-task, they will make their displeasure clear, crying or resisting. 

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When they do that at 18-months, we, as parents, beam with pride and joy. 

But by age 5 or 7, we are looking for results. We seek the ‘point’ of everything. We want a tangible output for every effort - either beautiful paper planes that fly, or different origami shapes to demonstrate our skills. We enroll them in dance class only for the ‘grand finale term-end performance’. 

We are already conditioning the child that what matters is not the process, but the (preferably Instagram-able) result. That every purpose must have a concrete, measurable outcome. That nothing is worth doing if it lacks ‘a good result’. And if there is any possibility of failure, we should avoid doing it.

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When all everyone sees in our efforts is the result, in time that’s how we start seeing it too.

‍This is how we start relating our own self-worth to a result set to someone else’s standards. 

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Also Read: Here's How We Are Making a Growth Mindset our Default Learning Mindset

When fear rules our learning, fear rules our living too.

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This is also how the fear of failure, rather than our true purpose, becomes the ruling force of our life. We are so afraid that the result of anything we pursue will be disappointing, that we don’t even start doing it. Or we do things where we are assured of a predictable result. It may not bring joy or growth, but at least it doesn’t bring failure. 

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This risk aversion, controlled by fear, at the cost of our purpose becomes so acute, so debilitating that any and all risk-taking ability, creativity and innovativeness goes out of the window with time and age. This is why, despite the fact that I knew I wanted to be a writer at 6 (and said it at every opportunity I got), I still ended up doing my MBA, working a corporate job I disliked for 15 years, before I had the courage to change things and, well, become a writer! 

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I don’t want my child to waste 15 years before he can follow the purpose that is in his heart. I do not want him to have to say to me “I’m not wasting my time, I’m using it!” 

For as Ann Dillard famously said, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

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