I still remember buying “Spanish in 10 Minutes a Day,” an old-school adult learning book that was never going to keep its promise.
I bought it during college, right after deciding that I was going to take a semester off to live in Spain.
I’d bought the book over a weekend, and the following Wednesday, I found myself on a bus to some volunteer work.
At this point, I’d put in two days’ worth of work—20 minutes, per the book’s lesson plan—and made my way through Chapter 1, which consisted of a dialogue about a lost suitcase (“Hola Señor. Yo he perdido mi maleta.”)
Sitting on the bus, with no smartphone to distract me, I started paying attention to two guys sitting nearby who were having an animated discussion in Spanish.
I started paying closer attention, eavesdropping more aggressively, and trying to get the gist of their conversation.
Of course, I could understand almost nothing. And I was so frustrated.
Think about how silly that is: a week prior to that bus ride, I wasn’t a student of Spanish, and I had no story about my now or future Spanish-speaking abilities.
But armed with my Spanish in 10 Minute a Day book, and—more important—the new story I was telling myself, I’d deluded myself into thinking I was supposed to understand something of this conversation.
The new stories we tell ourselves are powerful. They can motivate us to action, and push us to new heights.
But they also create uncomfortable tension.
I’m eating healthier now. Why haven’t I lost any weight?
I want to learn to swim better. Why am I still breathless after one length of the pool?
I’m resting to give this injury time to heal. Why isn’t it any better.
I’ve promised myself I’ll speak up more. Why didn’t I do it in that last meeting?
I’m going to invest more in new friendships. Why don’t I have any plans on Saturday night?
I’m starting to learn something new. Why aren’t I better at this today?
All learning takes time.
The time after we’ve decided to do a new thing, but before we make (much) progress.
The time after we can clearly see the gap between where are and where we’d like to be.
The time living with the tension between what we want to be better tomorrow, and where we are today.
Remember, when we fall short, it is almost never due to lack of skill.
It is because we cannot live with the discomfort of the gap between where we hope to be tomorrow and where we are today.
(Note: it’s easy to see this tension on an individual level. It plays out tenfold at an organizational level. It’s one of the many reasons change is hard.)
