Possibly in Paris (Thoughts on Putting Our Imaginations to Work)

When we’re kids, it’s easy to imagine what it would be like.

To be the founder of the NBT (next big thing).

To win the Superbowl someday.

To fall in love at first sight with the man or woman of our dreams.

To work as a high paid international photographer who has breakfast in Shanghai and dinner in L.A.

To live the life of a bohemian writer, possibly in Paris.

As children, we are encouraged to exercise our imaginations, to engage in pretend play. Nothing is impossible, everything is within the realm of how far we can expand our mind’s eye. When we are told to go to our rooms, what is intended as punishment becomes an invitation to enter any world of our choosing, limited only by the size of our capacity to dream.

We wouldn’t have Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are had Max not been sent to his room without any supper.

When the pressure to shift focus -- usually around the age of 10 -- from engaging with the imagination to memorizing and regurgitating facts and figures in order to perform well on standardized tests becomes the top priority of the educational system, learning that was once a source of joy becomes a source of agony and frustration. It shouldn't surprise anyone to find cynicism, skepticism, even nihilism lurking just around the corner, arms spread wide for all who are searching for something to latch onto that promises relief.

= = =

My son attended an art magnet school in our local district, a school that selects members of each incoming class through a lottery system. I remember sitting next to him in the auditorium at an open house for this school when he was eleven years old, the spring of his fifth-grade year. As the principal shared stories about what it was like to be a student there, Ben leaned forward, listening intently.

“Can you picture yourself going here?” I asked as we filed out into the cool spring evening.

He nodded enthusiastically. “This is definitely the school for me.”

His answer wasn’t the quick blush of a passing infatuation: Ben was truly inspired because he knew that school was right for him.

The next few weeks were tense as we waited to hear if his name had been drawn in the lottery. There was always “second consideration” as a fallback plan, which would require assembling a portfolio of his work and an interview process. Nothing outside of his capabilities. He had a sizable collection of pieces that would sway any committee in his favor. Naturally, we were praying Ben would be chosen in the first round.

When the letter arrived welcoming him to the class of 2017, we all wept with joy. He’d gotten a spot. He was going to ACMA where he could study and learn about animation and filmmaking, photography and drawing along with the core classes of a well-rounded liberal arts education.

He would spend the next seven years engaged with what mattered most to him.

While his experience was positive overall, it wasn’t without its challenges. District budget cuts eliminated courses Ben was excited to take; favorite teachers were moved to other schools; core classes like history and math ballooned to 40, sometimes 50 students crammed tight together in portables without enough textbooks to go around.

Add a hefty dose of adolescent angst into the mix and it was no wonder Ben came home some days uninspired, even downright discouraged.

“I hate my English-Spanish-Health-Math teacher,” he lamented, dropping his 50-pound backpack with a thump on the floor.

As a parent, I had several options at this point. I could affirm his frustration. I could dismiss his comment as a knee-jerk reaction to a bad day and redirect his focus onto something positive. Or I could ask a couple of gentle yet probing questions to unearth what’s really going on.

I found the latter approach yielded the best results, even if Ben squirmed a bit in the process. My goal was to guide him toward an even deeper self-awareness than what he already had, and circle him back around to why he chose to attend ACMA in the first place.

Towards the end of our discussion, I arrived at something that goes like this:

“The leaders of tomorrow are the ones who can solve problems using both sides of their brains. You are among that new elite, son. You’ve got a good dose of both left and right -- stand in your power. Rise above the obstacles that are certain to enter your path. Take advantage of your opportunities and cultivate your creativity. That alone will put you ahead.”

It’s my longer version of what Neil Gaiman so succinctly articulated in what became a viral commencement speech to the University of the Arts Class of 2012:

“Make good art.” 

This advice goes not just for young people like my son on the edge of beginning their adult lives, but for the rest of us, too.

If at the end of the day that’s all we do, we’ve won.

= = =

In a world that puts a high value on algorithms, hard data, and metrics above all else, those of us whose brains are more inclined to "make good art" (e.g. imagine possibilities and create stories of wolf suits and magical trees) can feel like my son did on the days he came home from school and dropped his backpack on the floor with an extra thud.

I have personally felt discouraged when shut out of opportunities I am more than qualified for because I don't have the proper "badges" or "skill matches" to showcase online. While platforms are great for connecting and hanging out our professional shingle, they are limited in many ways. It's virtually impossible to share the subtleties and nuances of our abilities in a limited space that is driven by the left brains of the world through algorithmic formulas. 

Perhaps a day will come when AI has the capacity to capture the many aspects of the thread that holds our multifaceted professional lives together and weave an algorithmic narrative that includes the best of both left and right brain ways of seeing and thinking, but until that day we are beholden to what's available now which can feel narrow and constricting with a lot left up to chance.  

Take some active job seekers I know. When a new opportunity comes along, every time they hit send and watch their resume and cover letter disappear into the black hole of cyberspace can feel like buying a lottery ticket, wondering if their application will make it past the ATS, waiting and praying that maybe this time, they will get picked.

Seth Godin is a big fan of reminding us all to pick ourselves. Waiting for someone to show up and ring our doorbell with an opportunity is downright ludicrous. Are there stories floating around about being found or discovered because of a piece of content we created and shipped, including the twin set of our cover letter and resume?

Yes. 

But they are few and far between. Certainly not the norm.

What’s particularly concerning in the overall equation of matching talent with the best opportunities for that talent to do its highest and best work are the stats about how many companies are struggling to fill openings with people who can do the work they need to be done. Technology, for all its incredible breakthroughs, has created barriers between the people who are ready and willing to deliver great work and the organizations who need help -- like, yesterday.

When amazing people can’t even get a call from a real person to bring them in for an interview because the ATS is restricted to looking for specific keywords, matching talent with opportunity becomes a zero-sum game for most of the players involved.

That’s one reason I’m encouraged to hear that some companies like Google and Dolby are changing the way they bring on great talent that doesn’t require applicants to use outdated screening tools like resumes.  

= = =

Based on my son’s body of work, even at the tender age of eleven, I’m confident he would have been accepted to the magnet school if he had not been selected in the lottery. The "second chance" consideration baked into the school's system offered young people -- who knew that school was where they were meant to be -- the chance to prove they belonged there. "Show us your work" is such a simple way of attracting the right people to opportunities and weeding out anyone who would be better off somewhere else.

When we can put our imaginations to work -- maybe don a wolf suit once in a while to keep things interesting -- not only do more people win but in the process, we are bound to make great art of one kind or another that becomes its own awesome thing and opens even more doors. 

As we come to the end of not just another year, but also an entire decade, that's a goal with going for.

If you enjoyed this article, here are a few other ways to stay in touch:

1. Sign up for Halftime, my inspirational-creative-fresh-take-on-current-subjects-that-matter monthly newsletter 

2. Listen to my Play Your Position Podcast featuring not your everyday-run-of-the-mill conversations about the glorious, imperfect, and courageous pursuit of leadership excellence with today’s leading experts from business, sports, the arts, tech, education, and more 

3. Check out my latest book, The Jealousy Journal: 21 Days to More Happiness, Confidence, and Grace Beyond the Social Media Highlight Reel that tackles a topic more of us need to be talking about -- professional jealousy and its effects on productivity, employee engagement, and more!