In sixth grade, my teacher announced the pinnacle of achievement: the student crowned “top math student.” Our whole class celebrated this and talked about it for the whole year. From then on, she was known as the most brilliant student in the class, obviously destined for greatness. Even my own sister had her niche; she had already collected the unofficial titles of “best artist” and “best writer,” and I remember wondering what title I would ever earn, if any at all.
Growing up, I learned to admire people who were the best at something. Being simply good wasn’t considered enough unless you excelled. My school was full of kids who were the absolute best at something; each person had a clear label defining them: the best footballer, the best singer, the best mathematician. My sister fit neatly into that world. From her first painting and her first article, adults told her what she should pursue.
I didn’t have that. I was just pretty good at a lot of things, and I yearned to find my niche, my defining label. I joined various sports teams, maintained solid grades, and held my own in the arts, but I never stood out in any one area. For a long time, I believed that if I kept trying new activities, I would eventually discover the one thing that would feel like mine. But after trying just about everything, that moment never appeared. I kept wondering whether I would ever find the career or passion that would click.
Redefining What It Means to Excel
Eventually, though, I realized something different. All that time I spent searching hadn’t been wasted. What I actually excelled at was trying new things. Instead of ending up empty-handed, I ended up with a well-rounded resume, a broad skill set, and enough experience to connect with almost anyone. That variety of activities and the skills I learned from each one helped me get into one of the top universities in the world and made it easy to adjust to the “try everything” culture once I got there.
Still, the university brought its own questions. My boyfriend arrived with a clear identity as a mathematician on a finance track. He had been the best math student in his school since he got there, and knew exactly who he was destined to be. So many people around me seemed to have known their plans since they were kids, and I was left figuring out what future path was left open for me, or if I even had one.Â
When I looked at my own work history, it didn’t form an evident pattern. I worked in the Seattle Opera’s office on grants and donor funding. I was a barista at one of the busiest Starbucks stores in the country. I helped run a small floral business. At first, these jobs felt disconnected. What do a barista, a financier, and a florist’s assistant have in common?
The only answer, I realized, was me.Â
Embracing the Power of Mediocrity
Each experience was something I was chosen for because of who I am, not because I fit a perfect mold. I’m a mix of interests, some that push me, some that make me happy, and they’ve all added up to a flexible, adaptable way of moving through the world.
After talking with mentors, adults whose careers I’ve considered, and family members with plenty of advice, I kept hearing the same thing: any experience is good experience. Being good at many things isn’t a weakness or a sign of indecision. It is a sign of curiosity and is key in opening up more paths forward, not fewer.Â
Each activity a person does has a purpose, and that purpose lies in making them a more well-rounded person; each experience teaches you something and helps create a more complete person, opening doors you didn’t even know existed. So next time you panic and think there is no way forward, take a step back and look at all of the possibilities waiting for you if you are just willing to try something new.