Play growth games even when competing in fixed games.
Life is a game. We must keep playing the game. The more we play, the more we will understand the game of life.
—LAILAH GIFTY AKITA
The course began predictably, with students introducing themselves by their names and majors. As students took their turns, an interesting pattern emerged: most had not one but two majors. Many listed two majors plus a minor. Then came a tidy articulation of their career aspirations: organizational psychologist, entrepreneur, human resources professional, high school principal, human rights attorney, to name a few. They were so impressive, so motivated. As they rattled off surefire plans for success, we side-eyed each other, thinking:
“This class is over, we’ve got nothing for them.”
Such was the inauspicious start to our True North college program. We had designed this empirically based curriculum to help students find their purpose. We had just delivered it to underserved high school students in Boston with great success. In a randomized control trial, program participants who applied our five purpose principles were significantly more motivated in school, got better grades, and were more likely to go to college than control group students. These results were cause for celebration, because most students of low socioeconomic backgrounds struggle to get into college—only 14 percent graduate from a four-year college within eight years of graduating from high school.1 We adapted it for college students, because we felt sure that students from other backgrounds would benefit, too. Now, just fifteen minutes into the first class, they burst our bubble. These superstars were saying they already knew what they wanted in life. They seemed well on their way to executing their career plans.
Or so we thought.
On the surface, they had it all together. They had the plan down. Enter a top university. Check. Excel in academics. Check. Take advantage of opportunities. Check. Jump through more hoops. Check. Pump up résumé. Check.
But as the semester progressed, their confidence began to crack. Despite having their pick of academic and professional opportunities, a cheering squad of parents and teachers, and a stellar record, they were terrified of the future. Why?
They had no clue how to decide what to do. They were struggling to find direction. They felt pressure to pursue goals that fit with their parents’, peers’, and society’s definitions of success. They were busy applying to the crème de la crème of programs, internships, and jobs. But doing a lot didn’t mean they felt solid about their choices. They agonized constantly. “Did I choose this or was the choice made for me?” “Am I doing the right thing?” “What even is the right thing?” “Is the right thing the right thing for me?”
When asked, “What’re you up to after graduation?” it felt better to fake an answer than admit to not having one. But in truth they felt lost and uncertain. If these super-successful students were struggling, what about their less-privileged peers across the country?
Students everywhere feel overwhelming pressure to make the “right” decision—to make good with their educational investment. But they have no idea how. They don’t know what to value. They aren’t sure what’s most important to them. As a result, they can’t make big decisions. Should I follow the money or follow my heart? Should I be practical or passionate? Do I do what my parents want or what I want? They aren’t taught how to grapple with these questions as they wander down the unmarked road into young adulthood.
Our students represent a generation that knows how to DO, DO, DO. Put a task in front of them, and consider it done. They’re busy bumblebees. The problem isn’t doing, it’s deciding. Young people know what they should do, but how do they decide what they want to do?
When it comes to life advice, young people hear the same thing over and over again: “Figure out what you’re good at, and do it.” This platitude offers little practical value and is woefully misleading. Because what does it mean to be “good at” something? Today, our kids are objectively “good” at a whole range of things, making this question even more unanswerable and unhelpful. Despite this, people tend to consider themselves good at the things they’ve been successful doing. So our definition of strengths is determined by success. But that opens up a whole different can of worms: How do we define success?
We’ll demonstrate how two opposing definitions of success (one that fuels the performance mindset, and the other a purpose mindset) make all the difference in how we view our strengths. We’ll also dispel the myth that “it’s your job to identify your students’ strengths for them.” Instead, we’ll show you how to help them identify their own strengths—the ones they most delight in. The ones they’ll be self-motivated to grow and use their whole lives.
Tim Klein was a dominant tennis player in high school. Over his four-year career he amassed a record of 52–4. You read that right—he only lost four times total in his entire high school career. During his freshman year, his high school won the state championship, where Tim also placed second in the state doubles championship. During his senior year, he went undefeated and was a top-ten ranked player. Tim continued playing tennis in college. As a freshman, he went 7–4, helping his college win a conference championship while also setting a school record for the most team wins in a season.
By all metrics, Tim was incredibly “good at” tennis. And successful, to boot. However, we will admit that we omitted some vital details:
Tim is from Vermont.
While Vermont is a beautiful state and an amazing place to grow up, athletics, especially tennis, is not one of its strong suits. In fact, Vermont has one of the least-competitive high school tennis systems in the country. Tim began playing as a ten-year-old, which by national tennis standards is a late start. In Vermont, however, this gave Tim years of advantage over many of his competitors. Many Vermonters start playing in middle school or high school. It wasn’t uncommon for Tim’s high school to compete against students who had never played a match before. In addition to a lack of competition, Tim also benefited from the demographics of Vermont—it’s a small state with under a million people in it. When his high school won the state championship, there were only eight other schools competing in the entire division. Tim was a big fish in a small pond, and his “success” in tennis reflected that.
Tim enjoyed more of the “big fish in a small pond” benefits when he played college tennis. We forgot to mention where Tim played college tennis—on a small Division III team. His teammates and opponents were not scholarship athletes who had devoted their lives to the sport—he was playing people with similar skill sets and commitment to the game that he had. So, when Tim boasts about breaking records, and winning titles and conference championships, perhaps he should include an asterisk providing context to his achievements.
Given this new information about Tim’s tennis career, are we still feeling like Tim was incredibly “good at” tennis? He admits that the majority of his “success” came from the luck of being born in a small state where most people didn’t care about tennis. If he’d been born a few hundred miles south, in New York or New Jersey, he would have been considered an average to below-average player with few accolades to boast about. If he’d gone forty-five miles north to a Division I team, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t have made the tennis team. Not to sleep on Tim’s fantastic tennis career, but being “good at” something or “successful” is relative.
What’s it even mean to be successful? Who gets to say? Definitions of “success” and being “good at” something are actually very arbitrary. Success (and strengths) are in the eye of the beholder.
Games are a powerful metaphor for life—they reflect principles for how the world works. “It’s not how you win, it’s how you play the game.” “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” Games explain how business is done: that idea is a “slam dunk,” we “dropped the ball” last quarter. Games describe what’s going down politically: the election is a “toss-up,” the candidate is a “wild card.” Games even offer pro-tips for your love life: “Don’t play mind games,” “Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” and “Don’t get played.”
Games existed before written language. Games pass on the ideas of their cultures from generation to generation. Pieces that are still essential in most board games today were the basis of the oldest game … dice! They first appeared as small carved painted stones found at a burial mound in southeast Turkey—five thousand years ago.
Fast-forward to today, when games still form the foundation of our collective conscience. The global market value of board games was estimated at over $7 billion in 2017 and is expected to exceed $12 billion by 2023. And video games? Estimates are that by 2023, the game market will surpass $200 billion.2 The streaming video game platform Twitch has on average 15 million people watching other people play video games each day.3
Games do more than entertain us, they reveal truths about how we pursue life goals. The game maker for the New York Times (yes, there is such a job) describes a game as a structure that you navigate by making a series of interesting choices. Each choice you make determines the course of play, exposing who you are and how you think. Similarly, pursuing your life goals involves making a series of interesting life choices. The choices you make determine the course of your life, and expose who you are and how you think.
There are fundamentally two types of games—fixed games and growth games.4
Let’s play a round of Hand Cricket, right now, so you can see what we’re talking about. It’s like Rock, Paper, Scissors. Shake your fist, “1, 2, 3, shoot!” and throw out any number of fingers. (We’ll put our choice at the end of the chapter.) If our combined fingers total an even number, you win. Odd number, we win. This is a “fixed game”; there are limited and specific options to choose from (up to five fingers), and a limited, specific end goal—to defeat your opponent by selecting a number that, when added to their number, is even.
Now let’s play Fortunately, Unfortunately. This is a storytelling game that gets you thinking about how much better (and worse) things can get. As the first team, we’ll make up a premise: “Once there were two best friends who could hear each other’s thoughts.”
As the second team, you now add a turn-for-the-worse plot twist, like “Unfortunately, one of them got ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ stuck in her head.”
Now, it’s our turn again to add a turn-for-the-better plot twist, like “Fortunately, this gave the other a cool idea—to take a trip together to Timbuktu.”
Then it’s your turn again. And so on. We can play this story out as long as we want it to go, embellishing it into a masterful, unending adventure. This involves open-ended play. It’s what we call a growth game; we can create anything we can imagine. In a growth game, there are fewer rules or restrictions. There’s no end goal or outcome we’re striving after. As long as we’re playing and having fun, we’re doing it right.
LEGO has existed for eighty-plus years and is still widely considered the most popular building toy on the planet. But a lot has changed since the glory days when playing LEGOs meant creating something you conjured up from a box of assorted pieces of all shapes and sizes. There was nothing in particular you were tasked with making; you had the freedom to create whatever your heart desired. You could build cars, houses, cities, or stylish abstract sculptures—it was entirely up to you. Sky’s the limit! Your only objective was to keep playing, to keep building, to keep having fun. A growth game.
LEGOs is a different game today. The LEGO website reassures you that “you can’t go wrong, just follow the easy building instructions.” These instructions dictate exactly what to build—a Star Wars Death Star, a Pirates of the Caribbean ghost ship, or the Indominus Rex from Jurassic World.
Cool creations, for sure—someone else had a great idea, and if you just follow their instructions to a T … Voilà! You’ve re-created their idea! The website leaves out: “you can go very wrong if you don’t follow the instructions.” And if you lose a piece, God be with you. And when that kit is built, game over—this $100 kit that got you pumped up last week is on a shelf collecting dust. A fixed game.
People play fixed games for the outcome, which is to win. And fixed games are defined by limitations. The rules tell you what you can and cannot do and who can or cannot play.
In contrast, people play growth games for the process; the goal is to enjoy playing and to keep on playing for as long as possible. Growth games are defined by possibility. There are no restrictions on what can be done and who can participate.
The terms “growth” and “fixed” are often associated with Carol Dweck’s growth and fixed mindset theory. People with a growth mindset believe you can grow your abilities (through good strategies, hard work, and mentoring). Fixed-mindset people believe you’re born with all the talents you will ever have and there’s not much you can do to change them. Growth-mindset people do better in school, are more adventurous, and bounce back better from failures.5 They achieve more overall because they’re less worried about looking competent and more interested in actually learning.
Unfortunately, a growth mindset doesn’t guarantee that good things will happen. We can have a growth mindset all we want, but if our settings (our school, workplace, career field) play the talent game (a fixed game), we’ll be hard-pressed to practice growth-mindset behaviors, such as collaborating and sharing information, taking risks and innovating, and seeking feedback and admitting errors. In other words, the games we play influence the mindsets we adopt. We shouldn’t expect a young person to have a growth mindset when they’re only ever competing in fixed games.
In Suzanne Collins’s dystopian series The Hunger Games there’s a deadly tournament that pits children from thirteen districts in varying states of poverty against each other. There can be only one victor. Everyone else loses. You can imagine the mindset of the contestants. You better believe that they’re doing all they can to survive by using whatever strengths help them to beat their opponents. No time to mess around with growing the strengths they most enjoy using. That’s a luxury that can’t be afforded here. School has become like The Hunger Games—a fixed game with limited winners leaving everyone else feeling like a loser. School promotes a fixed mindset (doing what you’re naturally good at) and a performance mindset (where success is measured by how we compare with others). The subconscious strategy becomes: figure out what you can do better than others if you want to come out ahead. And you’ll know you’re better at doing the thing than other people by applying quantifiable metrics—acceptance into competitive colleges, number of trophies, number of followers, income, five-star reviews. The numbers and awards tell us who’s good—and who isn’t. Who’s successful—and who isn’t. Growth games are different. They aren’t about competing with other people, but pushing to become the best version of ourselves. Where fixed games focus on what we want to get, growth games are more concerned with what we want to do.
So the type of game you’re playing makes all the difference. Context matters and shapes mindset. That said, it can be hard to know which games we’re playing. Below we differentiate fixed and growth games based on three aspects of a game—its goals (outcomes that players are working toward), rules (specific ways players can/can’t achieve the goal), and feedback (signs of players’ progress).6 Your responses to three questions (reflecting the three aspects of a game) can reveal which game you’re playing:
In a fixed game, the goal is simply to win. And everyone’s a loser except the winner. In a study conducted by Belle’s lab,7 data revealed four overarching sources of stress among high school students: (1) pressures to win, (2) narrow constructions of success, (3) peer competition, and (4) parents’ expectations. These pressures to win the fixed game of school ramped up from one year to the next, like a freight train building momentum until it reached breakneck speed by junior year. Sixth- and seventh-graders complained about some stress from the desire to meet teachers’ expectations, but described such stressors as still manageable, all in all. These kids didn’t focus solely on “winning,” because time was on their side. They felt a freedom to try new things and interests because performance “still didn’t count.” Many were playing a growth game, but this didn’t last long. They anticipated the rising tide of performance expectations to come. One student put it this way:
When I get a bad grade, I’m like, “Oh. Is this going to affect my future? I really hope it doesn’t.” But I sort of push it off. I’m like, “I’m not in high school yet. It’s not going to affect college.”
Eighth- and ninth-graders transitioning to high school began to feel pressured to meet academic and extracurricular demands and balance all these “responsibilities.” They said things like: “It’s just really stressful trying to get it all done.” They were rapidly losing sight of the “want-tos” of their growth game. And any previous sense of joy and freedom in their activities gave way to the “have-tos” of their fixed game. By eleventh grade, students’ stress levels were through the roof. Every little failure seemed increasingly high stakes—a threat to winning the fixed game. An eleventh-grader captured the stress and stakes this way:
I think 10th grade stress is “in the moment” stress … If I fail this test, then I might fail this class. But then, junior year it’s like if I fail this test, I won’t get into college … I won’t have a good job.
These are the signs of being all in to win a fixed game. Unfortunately, being all in for a fixed game means that if you’re not winning, you’re losing. If you don’t have the best grades and test scores, and the leadership positions in clubs and teams, then you’re losing. Prominent in the students’ narratives was a fixation on getting “good grades” to get into a “good college” to secure a “good career.” “Good grades” meant straight As, “good colleges” meant the most elite universities, and “good careers” meant those that were the highest paid and highest status. And while they believed that happiness would come through achieving this endgame, this zero-sum game was costing them their self-esteem and mental health.
In fixed games, the rules are rigid—they place structural limits on what you can and can’t do. We want to believe that rules are in place to make sure no one has an unfair advantage. We want to believe in the American dream, where everyone who works hard can get ahead. Unfortunately, this vision of meritocracy is a myth. There is no level playing field. Rules will always advantage some people and disadvantage others. For example, we’d like to think that the NBA is a perfect meritocracy—the very best players have earned the right to play. Yet the rules of basketball advantage some people and disadvantage others. An NBA basketball hoop must be exactly ten feet tall—an obvious plus for tall people. A player who’s seven feet tall is twenty times more likely to play in the NBA than someone who is six foot six.8 Even if rules in basketball exist for the sake of fairness, the reality is they aren’t always fair.
Similarly, the rules of the college admission process are supposed to ensure that any student who works hard and deserves to be admitted can get in fair and square. But the Varsity Blues scandal proved this isn’t the case when wealthy, white families exploited the rules. The National Bureau of Economics reported that students from the top 1 percent income bracket are 77 percent more likely to attend an Ivy League university than are those from the bottom income quintile. At five of the eight Ivy League schools, there are more “1 percenters” than low-income and middle-income students combined. High-income students of color are less likely to attend prestigious institutions than middle-income white students.9
These rigged rules ripple into the workforce. White men and women “earn” 22 percent more than Black men and 34 percent more than Black women with the same work experience. Up to 80 percent of the wage gaps are due to inequalities in access to and completion of higher education.Students from the top quartile of family income and parental education who have low test scores still have a 71 percent chance of graduating from college and getting a good job by their mid-twenties. But students from low-income backgrounds with top test scores have only a 31 percent chance of doing so.10
Structural inequities on the basis of skin color, gender, or other demographic characteristics are the results of unfair rules of a fixed game. Isabel Wilkerson defines caste as “the granting or withholding of respect, status, honor, attention, privileges, resources, benefit of the doubt, and human kindness to someone on the basis of their perceived rank or standing in the hierarchy.” She explains how caste is the rule system of most fixed games: “we are all born into a silent war-game, centuries old, enlisted in teams not of our own choosing. The side to which we are assigned in the American system of categorizing people is proclaimed by the team uniform that each caste wears, signaling our presumed worth and potential.”11
Our kids get it. Studies show that they (more than any other generation, even baby boomers) are sensitive to social injustices. Rules that are rigged. For example, they strongly believe that women are discriminated against in getting a college education and in jobs.12
In fixed games, feedback on how you’re doing in the game comes in the form of external rewards. Grades. Class ranks. Trophies. Raises. Approval from others. Apart from these incentives, what’s the point in playing? We play fixed games mainly for the win, and less for the joy of playing.
And even when we do win, it can be anticlimactic. Because playing solely for external rewards leaves us feeling empty. Research suggests that grades don’t actually inspire students to learn more or work harder.13 They actually detract from academic motivation and inhibit learning.14 Extrinsically motivated students are more likely to use “shallow-learning” strategies, and they struggle to push through adversities or challenges.15 Gunning for external rewards is also tied to poorer mental health. Extrinsically motivated business students had “lower psychological well-being, showed more signs of internal distress, and engaged in more substance use than those who cared less about extrinsic goals.”16 And these findings hold true in the world of work. A study of 2000 U.S. lawyers found that those working in high-powered, high-paying private firms were far less happy than those serving in public service roles, even though the latter were paid far less.17 The “high-powered” attorneys had attained the American dream and achieved our shared cultural definition of success. They were winners. Why were they so unhappy?
It’s not the money itself that causes poor outcomes. People who pursued money for intrinsic reasons—personal growth, community service, and leisure—had improved well-being and happiness.18 But not so for people who were after money for extrinsic reasons—prestige, status, and power. Their well-being suffered even if they accomplished their goals. People who pursue money in the service of fixed games don’t benefit.
Growth games are a different story. When playing growth games, your goal is to play for as long as you can. To keep learning, growing, and enjoying the game.
In contrast to fixed games, where you’re forced to play by the rules, in growth games there are rules of thumb that are informative, not restrictive. They take the form of wisdom passed down from other players who have accumulated experience and knowledge from their own successes in growth games. We know we’re playing a growth game when we seek out rules to learn from. The “rules” are resources that help all players get better at their growth game.
In growth games, you know you’re doing well when the game is fun. Not necessarily all the time, but you want to keep playing and getting better at it. Growth games are inherently rewarding because you get to use the strengths you delight in (as opposed to only those necessary for the win). Growth games aren’t about winning by beating others; they are about a sense of mastery, competence, fulfilling one’s purpose, and most importantly, contributing to needs in the world, rather than just serving oneself. And so success in growth games is measured by personal progress and positive impact beyond yourself. Is your hard work paying off? Are you learning from your mistakes? Can you feel yourself improving? And can you feel the world around you improving? These questions are important because we want to keep improving—not to beat others, but to keep playing.
Notice what happens when students choose their own activities or their own goals, rather than being made to do something. They’re more self-directed, engaged, and resilient. This is the same motivation that drives growth games. Intrinsically motivated students do better—they work harder, learn more, and thrive in school. They’re also more positive and self-regulated, better problem solvers, and more likely to use deep-learning skills. When people want to play, they bring their A game. Intrinsic motivation improves performance.
Growth games also spark self-perpetuating feedback loops. Because we enjoy growth-oriented games, we’re more likely to play hard, to excel, and to go after the next goal we set. What does this super-satisfying feedback loop do for strengths? The act of using the strengths we most delight in is good for the mind, body, and performance. People who use their strengths at school do better academically, and feel better.19 People who use their strengths at work are more engaged, perform better, and are more likely to stay.20
Refer to this summary table whenever you need a heart check about whether you’re playing a fixed game or growth game.
Fixed Games |
Growth Games |
|
|---|---|---|
Goal |
To win (outcome-oriented) |
To keep playing (process-oriented) |
Rules |
Rigid |
Flexible |
Feedback |
Extrinsic rewards |
Intrinsic rewards |
Are you playing to win or to keep playing? Are the rules rigid or flexible?
Are your rewards mostly extrinsic or intrinsic?
Your first thought might be: “Give me some growth games! Doing what I love, playing by my own rules, nothing to lose or prove … It’s a no-brainer!”
Until a little voice reminds you, “I have bills to pay, kids to feed, responsibilities … And my kids have responsibilities—they’ve got to do well in school to land a decent job so they can pay their bills, feed their kids, etc.”
And suddenly our practical minds land right back where we started: “I have to play fixed games—whether I like it or not.” I must do so for survival’s sake and for success’s sake. Growth games might even seem like a distraction from the full commitment needed to succeed in fixed games—getting into college, internships, graduate school, and careers that pay.
The truth is, it’s not all or nothing. You can compete in a fixed game while playing a growth game. In fact, you’ll be better at your fixed game if you first figure out what your growth game is and prioritize it. For example, if you are interested in going to medical school, mainly because it is a prestigious goal and you think you can be good at it, you will be entering a grueling, fixed game. But if your motivation is your love for learning about the subject matter, your desire to meet certain needs in the world through the practice of medicine, you’ll be in a growth game. Identifying your growth game first will help you succeed in the fixed game.
At the height of his career, John Wooden coached the UCLA men’s basketball team to win a record-breaking ten NCAA championships in a twelve-year span, including seven titles in a row. The secret to his success was how he defined his team’s growth game: “Success is peace of mind, which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to do your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming.”21
Notice how his definition of success says nothing of outcomes, other competitors, or wins and losses. Instead, it’s about being the best versions of themselves. A goal that won’t grow old. This coach got upset when his team wasn’t playing up to their potential, even if they won the game. Other times he beamed with pride when they had played their hearts out, even if they lost the game! This is prioritizing your growth game, not living to win the fixed game. It’s the full use of the strengths you most delight in. The freedom and joy of working toward your best self.
Research from Belle’s lab suggests that purpose is a long-term aspiration that gets you using the strengths you love using. These are the strengths you want to keep using in your long game. These findings held true with both affluent and impoverished students. In an impoverished community that works and lives in a Guatemala City garbage dump, students who graduated from high school against all odds had an aspiration that involved using strengths they delighted in. They noticed ways to use their strengths even in the most mundane jobs and tasks. So while it’s easy to assume that purpose is a luxury, and only the privileged get to use the strengths they delight in, the data tell a different story.22 Even those who needed to work for survival’s sake (and had limited work options) were more likely to overcome obstacles and achieve goals when playing their growth game. You know you’re playing a growth game when you’re using strengths you delight in.
That said, two out of three people are not aware of their strengths, let alone the strengths they most delight in.23 To help you identify your strengths, check out the VIA Institute’s Character Strength Survey—a validated tool, easily accessible at www.viacharacter.org. In just a few minutes, this diagnostic test can provide you with a comprehensive profile of your strengths. It will give you a sense of your character strengths, and then it’s up to you to discern why these are your character strengths.
In purpose work, understanding why we value certain strengths is just as important as knowing what they are. Engage in a dialogue with students after they take the VIA survey. Ask if they agree with the results or if they would change any of the strengths attributed to them. Then, explore how they apply these strengths:
High school students we will call Aran and Corinne were vying to get into the same selective university. Both had stellar academic records—many AP classes, strong GPAs and standardized test scores, and high class rankings. Both had résumés loaded with extracurricular activities signaling their “well-roundedness.” On paper, they were indistinguishable. But something did distinguish them: one was playing a growth game, and one was not.
Aran’s motivation to enter this university was to prove himself. He had two older brothers who had both gone to Ivies. Seeing his parents’ glowing with pride sent a clear message about the value of this accomplishment. Now it was his turn to prove himself by achieving the same. Aran was playing a fixed game; his goal was to win, and winning was having an acceptance letter in hand.
Corinne’s obsession since childhood was Egypt. All things Egypt. The bottomless reservoir of discoveries about this fascinating land. She pored over the architecture of the pyramids. Examined the ornate jewelry of the pharaohs. Soaked up the historical drama of Cleopatra and other historical figures. And other subjects were passions, too, because they served to unlock more of the mysteries of Egypt. Math helped her understand the ancient Egyptian sciences of astronomy and astrology. History provided tools for accessing resources for researching the past. These endeavors never grew old. Each discovery was the key to opening yet another door, building upon a deep and significant area of expertise. Studying ancient Egypt was her growth game; she played for its own sake and found it inherently pleasurable. During her college search, she discovered a way to keep playing this game—by applying for a little-known program at the university of her top choice called the Department of Egyptology and Assyriology. Finding this program inspired Corinne to double down on her already stellar grades; her primary motivation for attending this university was to continue pursuing her passion.
Both students were in the race for entry into one of the most competitive universities in the country. On the surface, they were both competing for the same prize. But below the surface, only one of these students was playing a growth game. Corinne was shooting for a chance to build on her Egyptian scholarship. Aran was competing to measure up to his brothers and every other applicant to this university. Same goal (get admitted to university); different game.
You can bring your growth game to a fixed game. You may be playing someone else’s fixed game, but a growth game is yours alone. Some of the most influential people are thriving in a fixed game because of their growth game:
What’s your endgame? What rules do you play by? What’s your measure of success? If answering these questions helped you realize you’ve been missing out on growth games, tomorrow is a new day. Research points to how to get in the game. In one study, a class of psychology students was explicitly told at the start of the semester that the goal of the class was to improve their learning by building skills for understanding and synthesizing the class content.24 One group of students was given learning goals every class that built on the last class while also giving them specific things to learn during the next class. Another group was given a test before class to see which student performed the best. This subtle change in language shifted students’ emphasis from a fixed game (getting a good grade/being the best) to a growth game (learning the content to the best of their ability). The impact of this intervention was dramatic: those playing the growth game closed the achievement gap between low- and high-income students. Helping students shift to a mastery orientation was profound. Low-income students’ grades improved enough to go from failing to passing.
Students can go from fixed to growth games with even small shifts in language. They want to play growth games. Even in early adolescence, many of the video games they’re most drawn to, such as Minecraft, Roblox, or Animal Crossing, are appealing because of their constant opportunities for advancement and growth.
Below find more pro-tips and activities for helping your people find and grow the strengths they want to use, and the games they want to play. Here are a few initial ideas. First, encourage them to try different activities and interact with people outside of their typical social circles to expand their thinking about who they are in the world. This is different from figuring it all out for them—telling them that they should pursue x, y, and z because it’s what they’re good at. What you think is not nearly as important as what they think. Instead, a powerful role you can play in your students’ lives is to affirm strengths that you see them delight in. Your people already have an inkling about their gifts. They might just lack the confidence in their strengths or the language to articulate them. Your validation can provide the encouragement they need to integrate these strengths into their identity. Self-determination theory refers to this as “autonomy-supportive” parenting/guidance—actively taking students’ perspectives, as well as providing support for self-expression, initiation, and self-endorsed activities.
Autonomy-supportive parenting can encourage students to play growth games. When they do, they thrive.25 A meta-analysis of thirty-six parenting studies showed that autonomy-supportive parenting led to growth games, which in turn led to other positive outcomes—increased psychological health and school engagement.26
Playing growth games = success and well-being. We want to play growth games. Playing them is good for us … and for the world around us.
The opposite is true for fixed games. We feel forced to play them. And then we’re disillusioned even if we win them.
Corinne wanted to go to a university to study Egyptology. She enjoyed the process of studying it and delighted in being able to exercise these muscles, these strengths. Aran, on the other hand, felt forced to apply to this university to prove his worth. He didn’t get the gratification of using his unique strengths to pursue this goal. Instead, he did whatever it took to increase his chances of admission. During application season, he was a stressed-out mess.
Aran was admitted to his dream university … and his elation lasted about six weeks. Once the initial excitement wore off, he was back to stressing over the next fixed game—how to succeed at an Ivy League university. Being accepted here didn’t liberate him from his demons. Threats to his self-worth continued to plague him in the next fixed game with higher stakes.
Corinne was not admitted to her dream university. Perhaps the rules were rigged against her; she wasn’t a legacy candidate like Aran was. She was understandably disappointed, but not for long. She was playing a growth game, so this outcome wasn’t a dead end, just a bump in the road. After receiving her rejection letter, she began researching graduate programs that focused on Egypt. Her eyes never wavered from her true purpose. Her purpose lasted beyond admission into a particular university. Corinne entered another university as a history major. There she enthusiastically continued her growth game, honing her strengths, learning new skills, while enjoying the ride immensely.
It’s never too late to help our students find their growth game. We can start by helping them see their strengths, and then fanning those flames. We must resist comparing them to other people. Their development isn’t a race, it’s a journey. One to be eased into, not forced or feared. Playing is winning enough. As long as they commit to growth, they’re headed in the right direction. Success is not defined by anyone but themselves. These countercultural truths are key to winning whichever games they’re playing.
Now, back to the story about our students who seemed confident, but actually felt lost over their future directions. Uncovering their growth games clarified what they wanted in their lives. It gave them resolve to take some risks. Their self-exploration inspired their desire to contribute in the world—as principals, counselors, HR professionals, lawyers, corporate leaders. They recognized that their peers—some with plans to go into similar jobs—had different motivations. Some were on the fast track to fame and fortune via fixed games. They needed to ask themselves, were they committing to a life of poverty by not aiming for fame and fortune? Were they making a mistake?
Growth games helped them see what was truly important to them. Affirming their strengths gave them the resolve to make hard decisions that were right for them. Seeing their true strengths helped some change direction. For others, it strengthened their resolve about choices they were making. For all, recognizing their authentic strengths and their growth games provided an intentionality behind their decisions. They recognized that it was okay for them not to fall for the siren call of status, prestige, and power. That their trajectory wasn’t right for everyone, but it was right for them. They had a sense of what they wanted to do. Now they could explain why.
That’s the power of playing growth games.
(By the way, if you’re here for Hand Cricket, we pick two. Did you win?)