Perhaps, it's time to rethink how we measure success in schools, workplaces and life. What if we began to notice and appreciate the small, everyday efforts of those around us?
A few months ago, the children of our families received a gift during a family gathering. Most of the children, being children, eagerly unwrapped their gifts, and we could see their faces lighting up with joy. But amidst it, my niece, a young girl who was hardly seven years old, did something that left me thinking. She ran up to her great grandfather who had bought all the gifts for these children, hugged him tightly, and thanked him - without even glancing at her gift.
That moment hit me hard. Here was a child who, instead of fixating on the outcome (the gift), acknowledged the effort behind it. Her actions said, "I value your thoughtfulness, not just the result." How, I wondered, could someone so young grasp this nuance when so many of us spend our lives chasing outcomes, oblivious to the effort behind them?
Thinking about this simple act of hers made me reflect on the ways I have been brought up, and it made me realise that we "Nepalis" live in a culture that glorifies results. From an early age, children are conditioned to prioritise grades over learning, medals over practice and awards over effort.
I remember the Dashain festivals of my childhood, a time we eagerly waited for the family gathering where we could meet all our cousins and play, the time meant for joy and fun. Yet, there was always an undercurrent of dread. One of my uncles would inevitably ask about our grades, reminding us that there was only a "1 per cent margin for error" and that anything less than 99 per cent was unacceptable. His words lingered long after the tika ceremonies. This fixation caused anxiety over the festivities, leaving me scared, desperate, and I would question my worth, my value.
I often imagine how different things might have been if, instead of asking about our grades and comparing them, he had asked, "Did you try your best?". When I reflect on that time, I can't help but wonder how things might have been different if he had encouraged us to focus on our efforts rather than our outcomes.
This outcome-centric mindset isn't confined to childhood. It infiltrates and follows is into adulthood and in our workplaces too, where managers often reward outcomes without considering the effort behind them. Yet outcomes, as any economist or psychologist will tell you, are rarely entirely within our control. External factors, for instance market fluctuations, personal circumstances, even sheer luck - play a role. But if we simply focus on the effort, we recognise what is within our control and nurture resilience, learning and growth.
This obsession with results seeps into every corner of our lives, shaping how we view success, relationships and even ourselves. It creates individuals who undervalue effort, leading to a lack of appreciation and gratitude.
Our education system and culture, steeped in this obsession, produce individuals who struggle to value effort. And the impact is not just on their academic or professional growth but also on their relationships and personal lives. Social media is flooded with images of certificates, but how often do we see people sharing moments of engagement, questioning or discovery?
This misplaced focus creates a void – a constant need for the next milestone, leaving little room to savour the journey. In personal relationships, this mindset can breed ungratefulness. When we value gifts over thoughtfulness, price tags and brands over efforts, it leads to a cycle of dissatisfaction, where we fail to recognise or reciprocate the efforts of those around us. Gratitude, a simple yet transformative emotion, often gets lost in the din. The only emotion which has immense potential to change how we see the world and directly impact the quality of our lives is lost. If we could with the same enthusiasm see the efforts, how happy and meaningful our lives would be.
Coming back to my niece's simple but powerful lesson, what struck me about that seven-year-old's gesture was its simplicity. And how little it takes. In her hug, she expressed an overlooked and often undervalued concept: effort matters. A concept so basic that a child her age can grasp, yet so elusive that many adults struggle to embody.
The concept is backed by many studies. Psychologists like Carol Dweck have written the power of effort through concepts like the "growth mindset", which encourages us to value persistence and hard work over innate talent or outcomes. Similarly, studies in behavioural science show that acknowledging effort in us and others build deeper satisfaction and stronger relationships.
Perhaps, it's time to rethink how we measure success in schools, workplaces and life. Isn't it time we redefined how we measure success? What if schools emphasised effort and curiosity over test scores? What if workplaces celebrated persistence and innovation, not just results? And what if, in our personal lives, we began to notice and appreciate the small, everyday efforts of those around us?
Reflecting on my niece's hug, I often wonder: How might our lives change if we shift our focus from outcomes to efforts? How many strained relationships could be healed, how many opportunities reclaimed, and how much joy rediscovered if we embraced this simple lesson?
Perhaps, it's time to stop waiting for the perfect outcome and start celebrating the imperfect but earnest journey. And for my niece, here's my note of gratitude:
To my dear niece, Saara Joshi: Thank you for showing me, through your simple and sincere gesture, what it means to value effort over outcomes. Your hug that day taught me lessons on how to live life. You reminded me that some of life's greatest insights come not from books or lectures, but from watching how it's practised, often by the youngest among us.