The Value of Starting Young

Growing up sucks.

It comes with more responsibilities, more stress, and later bedtimes. But it also comes with taking fewer risks. However, instead of treating risk-taking as an ephemeral gift of youth, authorities often focus on its negatives: irresponsible mistakes become grounds to rein this behavior in, not encourage it. But risk-taking can translate positively too. Students have just the right blend of ability and chutzpah to dream ambitiously and do great things, but we’re told that we’re too young. Often we’re sent the message that we can’t make an impact until after we get our degrees. However, undergraduate is when intelligence and freedom to explore perfectly intersect to help us take on daring, self-initiated projects. We’re surrounded by things we’re passionate about, people we’re inspired by, and university-sponsored resources. The missing factor is often time, but working on passion projects is a time investment worth making. Whether it’s disability or stress on college campuses, everyone has a problem that they find worth solving. Even if initial attempts are unsuccessful, they spark a curiosity that catalyzes future pursuits. Taking risks now to build things we’re passionate about is an investment in the future.

This is the premise for Design for America at MIT: to build a community of risk-takers, change-makers, and dream-followers. It’s where ordinary students challenge themselves to pursue extraordinary projects that help working parents below the poverty line get better access to food and give teachers a better, more collaborative way to deliver tailored learning experiences to their students. The students in DFA defy the idea that students have nothing to contribute to the world’s pressing problems. Students are more optimistic, just as ambitious, and uniquely eager to learn, and those are all the ingredients necessary to make a difference.

I’m familiar with the aversion to taking on a new project. There’s always too much going on, too little time, and on top of that, the crippling feeling that your efforts might be in vain. But projects are more than preoccupations; they’re necessities. We’re only getting half the education that we should be without pursuing passion projects. Design for America advocates for a more exploratory way of learning. Students are encouraged to tackle daunting social problems that no one has solved before so they can test their capabilities while making a difference. But just like any other skill, the creativity that projects demand is a muscle that needs to be conditioned. School teaches us how to find answers to solved problems. Pursuing an answer that doesn’t yet exist is a different challenge altogether. That’s why an education isn’t complete just from the classroom: personal interest projects teach an entirely different set of skills.

My project recently has been PenPal, a smart tremor stabilization pen for people with writing tremors. I wanted to practice what I preached and see what I could learn from throwing myself into a problem that I didn’t know how to solve. And working on PenPal has been more than just a technical challenge. It’s been a struggle between my insecurities as an engineer and my desire to make something meaningful. It’s also been a learning experience that I couldn’t have gotten any other way.

At first, I figured it’d be a short term thing, something to dabble in just to say I did. I spoke about it without believing that I could pull it off: it was more of a pipe dream than an honest endeavor. But I was soon sucked into committing to the project before I was ready, but then again, I don’t think I would have ever been ready. I saw PenPal as a risk and one thing you should know is that I’m pretty risk averse. I tend to the safe side of things, avoiding risk of failure whenever possible. I do assignments early in fear of missed deadlines. I don’t speak up when I should in fear of being wrong. I only get involved in things that have a high chance of success.

PenPal exposed me to the failures that I needed to get over these fears. Classes had taught me to use others as a crutch. A friendly, well-meaning TA would always be there to answer my questions, and I would receive the instant satisfaction of the right answer, but the long term insecurity of feeling reliant on others. With PenPal, if I couldn’t figure something out, the only option was to think harder. For the first time, I couldn’t pass my burden of failure on to anyone else. This led to weeks of frustration as I puzzled through idea after unsuccessful idea. I was uncomfortable with this, but I was finally getting the experience I needed to face the reality of failure. I used to see it as a sentiment to the quality of my work or my intelligence. Now I realize that failing doesn’t make me a failure; it makes me a person. It makes me a novice who may need more experience, but who is willing to grow.

I also learned how to ask for help. With personal projects, your drive comes from your supporters. The shop guy who taught me how to use the mill or my friend who let me use his 3D printer: they were my supporters. I reluctantly threw away the pride that often keeps me from reaching out, and learned the value of asking. Innovation never happens in a vacuum, and others are necessary to cross-pollinate ideas and create the synergy of a team. That’s an environment classes have a hard time mimicking.

And finally, PenPal inspired me. A whole new world of opportunities opened up once I realized that the only limits to my accomplishments were self-imposed. PenPal empowered me with dreams for an impact-driven future untainted by me holding myself back.

I don’t think I fully appreciated the value of DFA until I worked on PenPal. The lessons I learned were invaluable and challenged me in ways I couldn’t imagine. The fact that DFA can create these experiences for students and inspire a thirst for impact inspires me to double-down to help even more students tackle daring problems. Naivete and openness to risk don’t last forever. There’s value in starting young, setting a precedent for risk-taking, and creating something to inspire both the world and yourself.

So take the stupid risks: dance through the streets, break onto rooftops to watch the sun set, make mistakes. But also take the risks that could make a lasting impact. Because even if you don’t succeed in the traditional sense, you will still learn a ton and be inspired to do more. All of the resources are there, it’s just a matter of taking a risk. And if DFA can play a part in that, then our DFAmily is happy to take you in.

Check out more of my writing on design, travel, and humans at conzorz.blogspot.com.