My Fixed Mindset

Not too long ago, I found myself in an outdoor arena, staring up at a tall, wobbly pole. One at a time, my friends climbed to the top of the post and then stood – unaided by anything to grab onto – before leaping out onto a trapeze hanging 50 feet above the ground. As I watched them stand atop the swaying, rickety pillar, I quickly resolved to opt out of the activity.

However, by the time my turn came around, I’d decided to climb up just as far as I wanted to and then come right back down. And that’s exactly what I did. I went up until I got scared, then returned swiftly to the ground.

At first I felt proud that I’d tried at all. But then, something began to gnaw at me. Despite doing exactly what I’d set out to do, I had the feeling that I’d limited myself by not aiming for the top. I felt that by giving myself permission to stop at the first sign of discomfort, I’d lost out on a chance to see how much I was truly capable of.

A few months ago, I finally buckled down to read Carol Dweck’s seminal and occasionally misunderstood book Mindset. Introducing her now-famous terms “growth mindset” and “fixed mindset,” Dweck offers up a theory for how we consider the human potential within ourselves and others.

When someone with a growth mindset is faced with a challenge in learning or achieving something, they will continue to practice and stretch themselves in order to improve. They don’t believe that the first effort is definitive of their potential.

Those with a fixed mindset also believe in achieving one’s greatest potential, but tend to think that potential is limited to certain areas. When it comes to developing a skill, either you’ve got it or you don’t. For example, if I don’t demonstrate the capacity to learn physics pretty quickly, I simply don’t have much more aptitude in that realm. Rather focus on where I have demonstrated skill and ability -- that’s where I’ll fulfill my true potential.

Only a few pages in, I started to recognize far more of myself in the fixed mindset category than I was comfortable acknowledging. First of all, the theory has been around long enough for me to know that having a growth mindset is preferred. But in addition to that, possessing a deep belief in human potential is essential to my life’s work. I believe in the power of education to unlock people’s full potential, and I’ve dedicated my career to this pursuit.

So why, then, did I see so much of myself in the fixed mindset category? The primary tension between the two mindsets is illustrated by how one relates to the application of effort. To bring this point home, Dweck gives examples of artists and athletes who are seemingly gifted with innate skills that distinguish them from the rest of us. A fixed mindset will see them cruise on their natural talent and resist or resent the need to put in effort. This is because (extreme) effort is anathema to natural talent. They’ve likely been told their entire lives that this natural gift is what makes them special, and received high praise in return for doing their thing at their natural level of skill. It comes to define them.

Having never needed to put in extraordinary effort, they believe that needing to do so as they rise to higher levels of competition or acclaim means that something is wrong. Perhaps they never really had “it” to begin with. And so they make excuses for why things don’t work out. He lost the match because of the ref, or she flubbed the note because the air was too dry.

For those of you with a growth mindset, this may all sound pretty far fetched. But let me tell you, it resonated deeply with me. I spent years feeling that tests, for example, were assessments of fixed ability. If I couldn’t learn something easily, I assumed that I couldn’t learn it at all. And so I resisted joining study groups in college, not wanting to get “fake” results in classes beyond what my own intellect would have gotten me if I just puzzled it out myself.

Same with things that I love. I sing classical music and am decent at it. But until very recently, I never pursued being a soloist because it requires exceptional attention to the areas of your voice that are most in need of work. It forces you to face the void beyond where natural talent can take you. Without being certain that continued success as a singer was on the other side of the void, I chose to remain firmly in the background rather than try to solo and risk losing my identity as a “good singer.”

It happens at work, too. In 2012, I became a fundraiser for the first time, and a brilliant colleague offered to help me practice my pitch. I resisted, feeling that for me to prove my mettle, I had to be naturally good at pitching. If I needed additional help, everyone would know that I wasn’t good enough for the role. And so I would hold back and hide my lack of progress, rather than risk giving people visibility into my lack of perfection.

I can recognize most of this as being directly related to mindset. However, particularly in professional settings, there can be another layer to this. Historically, people in the minority in a workplace or profession haven’t exactly enjoyed multiple chances to experiment with public failure. Appearing to be less competent for any amount of time is risky when you’re already being regarded more critically than colleagues in the majority. But even with that legitimate concern, I do believe that the path to excellence is paved with pushing past perceived potential. And so we have to figure out how to try, even when the stakes feel high. Especially when they feel high. The rewards are just too great for us to miss out on them.

Before I opened myself up to the discomfort of improving my gray areas, how many results did I lose out on? How many opportunities to stretch myself, get better grades, or raise more money passed me by? By telling myself that I already knew how high I could go, how many opportunities to stand at the top of my game did I forfeit before even starting to climb? How often did I live in the background of my own life, without even fathoming how it might feel to shine at the front?

The times when I’ve applied a growth mindset have shown me how good it feels to push into a different level of ability. Learning how to drive a manual car. Getting stronger at CrossFit. Achieving beyond my wildest dreams in college once I learned how to revise papers and ask for help. When I worked vulnerably and collaboratively with others, I was able to bring in over a million dollars for my organization and our partners.

It is very hard for me to fight my fixed mindset. It keeps me safe. But it also keeps me defined by my minimum. When I overcome something challenging, I am filled with wonder at what it’s possible to achieve. It’s time for me to overhaul my concept of my own greatest potential.