The Surface Area of Luck
Why do you love the things you love?
This is my version of “count your blessings.” I ask myself why I love the things I love.
When I’m feeling down, I think about the things I love – people, sometimes, but also hobbies, or books, or places. I remind myself how many wonderful things are in the world, and why these things in particular are mine. Why did I pick this specific painting to hang in my living room? What connects the dots between my favorite books, my friendships, my career? The moment in Jane Eyre where she chooses to leave Mr. Rochester rather than compromise her values—how does that connect to what I love in my closest friends, or to my desire to create schools dedicated to the core value of agency? Even in the smaller things – from my favorite color, to my love of roadside museums, I try to find the connection to myself – what matters to me, what I value, what I want to pursue.
I’ve noticed over the years just how much the particulars matter. Because you might strongly value agency, but not enjoy Jane Eyre as literature. Or love the quirky idiosyncrasies of your neighbor, while not particularly wanting to visit his Museum of Cheese. It matters that for you it is this book, and not that one; that it is this career, and not that one. Not just what you love in general, but why you love these particular things.
At first pass, the answer is easy: you love these particular things because at some point, you made a choice: you evaluated the options and found the one that resonated with you the most. You identified and expressed a preference, and acted accordingly.
But stepping back, it is also true that you had a certain set of options open to you in the first place. You made your choices in a specific set of circumstances. And the circumstances giving rise to the particular set of options involves a little bit of luck.
When I was in medical school, the first-year students were offered an opportunity for a paid summer internship -- two months and a small stipend to do research with a physician. We could request a specific mentor, but most of us were randomly assigned. A close friend of mine was assigned to a physician who specializes in the liver. He fell in love: with the organ, its diseases, his mentor, and his summer project. Ten years later, he is one of the foremost hepatologists in the world. Before that summer, he was planning to specialize in neurology. Would he have found the liver, if not for that internship? Would its fascinating truths have called to him, if not for that mentor? Would he be equally successful and happy in neurology? There’s no way to know. But a chance encounter, a random assignment, and the course of his life was changed.
Is it luck, then, that sets the course of our lives? I remember in high school spending long evenings with friends at Barnes and Noble (one of the few places open past 5pm in my New Jersey town). Wandering the aisles at random, I found a beautifully illustrated copy of a strange short story called “Repent, Harlequin! Said the Ticktock Man.” It was odd, it was different, but it was captivating. I didn’t realize until I brought it home and read it three times over that it was science fiction, and suddenly a section of the library I had always considered “not for me” opened up, offering some of my favorite novels to this day. So was it luck that opened me up to the world of science fiction? Is it luck, that sets the course of our preferences?
Yes, it is luck, in part, that determines what values fill your life. But luck alone is insufficient. Your value-rich life, the particular set of particulars that give your life meaning, is the result of luck combined with two additional elements. First, once exposed to an opportunity, you need to take action: you need to follow your new-found interest in the liver into a career path. To buy the book you happen to see on a bookstore shelf -- and when you enjoy it, find others like it. Luck can light the match, but it’s up to you to fuel the fire.
And second, this kind of luck does not occur on its own. You have to find opportunities to get lucky. Jason Roberts, a tech entrepreneur, coined the term “luck surface area.” He described it as “the amount of action you take around your passion combined with the number of people you communicate your passion to.” In short, by trying a lot of things, and talking to a lot of people, you will find more opportunities for luck to occur. You increase the surface area on which luck can happen. You increase the likelihood of finding kindred spirits- or investors, or perhaps both.
The idea of the surface area of luck resonates with entrepreneurs, and helps me think about how we can advance as an organization. The more people who see our schools, hear our ideas, and connect with our vision, the more likely we are to “get lucky,” finding those chance encounters that change our trajectory for the positive. Our homeschool and virtual school communities are the embodiment of this principle. All across the country, there are pockets of people who choose a virtual option for education for all sorts of reasons --- from the family who is traveling the world in a boat, to the children who spend six months a year in one city and six months in another, to those with health concerns or those pursuing a professional sports or dance career. These families, looking for a unique educational option, are scattered around the world. As we try and find them, and understand what they need and want in a flexible educational option, a lot of what we do is extend the surface area upon which luck can happen. We visit school choice conferences in small New Hampshire towns; we connect with internet groups dedicated to RV and caravan families; we find the students doing something we never dreamt of until we met them. And each person we tell -- each thing we do -- increases the likelihood of serendipity.
So this is one way to maximize your luck surface area: knowing in advance what you want to achieve (a thriving, vibrant virtual community dedicated to Montessori-on-the-go) and taking as many actions as possible and telling as many people as possible about it.
But what about those who do not yet know what they want out of life? I think about this frequently when working with our elementary and adolescent students who have not yet identified and articulated their passion. As educators, part of our goal is to help students discover their values: the books that will inspire them, the friends who will support them, hobbies that delight them, and the core work that will shape their lives.
For a child to find their favorite thing, whether a book or a hobby or a passion, takes agency: they need to approach the world looking to engage and ready to take action. But it also takes exposure. An awareness of what is possible. A world of opportunity, ideally, should be available to explore.
I knew a family several years ago whose oldest daughter decided she wanted a new hobby, but did not know what she wanted to pursue. Her mother set out with her to embark on what they called, “the summer of tryouts.” She spent a week in a gymnastics club; a week gardening; she spent time preparing for a play with a local theater group; she played tennis, she built and raced a go-cart. In the end, she fell in love with racing -- so much so that it paid her way through college. The survey that led to the discovery is a form of expanding the surface area of luck: intentionally, thoughtfully, deliberately. This young woman and her mom spent a summer trying out a whole list of things, to find the one that sparked. It was only two months. She could only try so many things. And it was possible that none of them would be magic. But it was much more likely that she would find “her thing” in a summer full of things, a summer of surface area.
I think a lot about increasing the surface area on which our students can create themselves. Increasing the opportunities to discover something new, and to build chosen values on that basis. Starting in elementary, our students dive into projects on biology, dance, Roman history -- anything that strikes their interest. As they get into middle and high school, they participate in career weeks, spending two weeks working side by side with an adult in a field of interest. They complete internships, or independent projects. They work in the school business -- coffee shops, bookstores, or craft co-ops. And they study: they dive deep into math, literature, history, science.
In Jason Robert’s surface area of luck, the axes are doing and telling. In the student’s surface area of luck, the axes can perhaps be: learning, and trying. Each new skill gained opens up a new set of options: a lower-elementary child who learns to read fluently has access to a million more options to find something she loves. And each new skill continues to open up new avenues in the world. Similarly, each new thing tried -- the summer of tryouts, spending a week in gymnastics, a week in theater, a week at the racetrack -- gives new opportunities for those skills to manifest. An intentional curriculum, and intentional exposure to a broadening world, increases the surface area on which luck can happen.
So why do you love the things you love? Because of who you are, what you value, what you want to achieve in the world. But if you want to find things to love -- whether you’re looking for a new book to read, or you want to find a friend or romantic partner, or a hobby or a career -- that involves increasing the surface area of luck: by doing, by telling, by learning, by trying.
Have a great weekend,
Laura