Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance

emulate
their
parents.
To a certain extent, of course, young children 
imitate
their mothers and fathers. When we have
nothing else to go by, what other choice do we have, really, than to mimic the accents, habits, and
attitudes of the people around us? We talk like they talk. We eat what they eat. We adopt their likes
and dislikes.
A young child’s instinct to copy adults is very strong. In a classic psychology experiment
conducted more than fifty years ago at Stanford University, for example, preschoolers watched adults
play with a variety of toys and then were given the opportunity to play with the toys themselves. Half
of the boys and girls watched an adult quietly play with Tinkertoys while ignoring a child-size,
inflatable doll in the same room. The other half of the children watched the adult begin assembling the
Tinkertoys and, after a minute, turn to viciously attack the doll. The adult pummeled the doll with his
fists and then a mallet, tossed the doll up in the air and, finally, while screaming and yelling,
aggressively kicked the doll about the room.
When given an opportunity to play with the same toys, children who’d seen adults play quietly
followed suit. In contrast, children who’d watched adults beat up the doll were likewise aggressive,
in many cases so closely imitating violent adults they’d seen earlier that researchers described their
behavior as virtual “carbon copies.”
And yet, there’s a world of difference between 
imitation
and 
emulation
.
As we grow older, we develop the capacity to reflect on our actions and pass judgment on what
we admire and disdain in others. When our parents are loving, respectful, and demanding, we not

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only follow their example, we revere it. We not only comply with their requests, we understand why
they’re making them. We become especially eager to pursue the same interests—for instance, it’s no
coincidence that Steve Young’s father was himself a standout football player at BYU, or that
Francesca Martinez, like her father, developed an early love of writing.
Benjamin Bloom and his team noted the same pattern in their studies of world-class performers.
Almost without exception, the supportive and demanding parents in Bloom’s study were “models of
the work ethic in that they were regarded as hard workers, they did their best in whatever they tried,
they believed that work should come before play, and that one should work toward distant goals.”
Further, “most of the parents found it natural to encourage their children to participate in their favored
activities.” Indeed, one of Bloom’s summary conclusions was that “parents’ own interests somehow
get communicated to the child. . . . We found over and over again that the parents of the pianists would
send their child to the tennis lessons but they would take their child to the piano lessons. And we
found just the opposite for the tennis homes.”
It’s indeed remarkable how many paragons of grit have told me, with pride and awe, that their
parents are their most admired and influential role models. And it’s just as telling that so many
paragons have, in one way or another, developed very similar interests to those of their parents.
Clearly, these exemplars of grit grew up not just imitating their parents but also emulating them.
This logic leads to the speculative conclusion that not 
all
children with psychologically wise
parents will grow up to be gritty, because not all psychologically wise parents 
model
grittiness.
Though they may be both supportive and demanding, upper-right-quadrant moms and dads may or may
not show passion and perseverance for long-term goals.
If you want to bring forth grit in your child, first ask how much passion and perseverance you have
for your own life goals. Then ask yourself how likely it is that your approach to parenting encourages
your child to emulate you. If the answer to the first question is “a great deal,” and your answer to the
second is “very likely,” you’re already parenting for grit.
It’s not just mothers and fathers who lay the foundation for grit.
There’s a larger ecosystem of adults that extends beyond the nuclear family. All of us are “parents”
to young people other than our own children in the sense that, collectively, we are responsible for
“bringing forth” the next generation. In this role of supportive but demanding mentors to other
people’s children, we can have a huge impact.
Technology entrepreneur Tobi Lütke is a grit paragon who had such a mentor in his life. Tobi
dropped out of his German high school when he was sixteen without any memorably positive learning
experiences. As an apprentice at an engineering company in his hometown, he met Jürgen, a
programmer who worked in a small room in the basement. Tobi affectionately described Jürgen as “a
long-haired, fifty-something, grizzled rocker who would have been right at home in any Hells Angels
gang.” Under his tutelage, Tobi discovered that the learning disabilities he’d been diagnosed with as a
failing student did nothing to hamper his progress as a computer programmer.
“Jürgen was a master teacher,” Tobi said. “He created an environment in which it was not only
possible but easy to move through ten years of career development every year.”
Each morning, Tobi would arrive at work to find a printout of the code he’d written the day before,
covered in red marker with comments, suggestions, and corrections. Jürgen was unsparing in pointing
out specific ways Tobi’s work could be better. “This taught me not to tangle my ego up in the code I
write,” Tobi said. “There are always ways to improve it and getting this feedback is a gift.”

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One day, Jürgen asked Tobi to lead a software assignment for General Motors. The company gave
Tobi extra money to buy his first suit for the presentation and installation. Tobi expected Jürgen to do
all the talking, but the day before the installation, Jürgen casually turned to Tobi and told him he had
somewhere else to be. Tobi would be visiting General Motors alone. Full of trepidation, Tobi went.
The installation was a success.
“This pattern kept on repeating itself,” Tobi said. “Jürgen somehow knew the extent of my comfort
zone and manufactured situations which were slightly outside it. I overcame them through trial and
error, through doing. . . . I succeeded.”
Tobi went on to found Shopify, a software company that powers tens of thousands of online stores
and recently exceeded $100 million in revenue.
In fact, emerging research on teaching suggests uncanny parallels to parenting. It seems that
psychologically wise teachers can make a huge difference in the lives of their students.
Ron Ferguson is a Harvard economist who has collected more data comparing effective and
ineffective teachers than anyone I know. In one recent study, Ron partnered with the Gates Foundation
to study students and teachers in 1,892 different classrooms. He found that teachers who are
demanding—whose students say of them, “My teacher accepts nothing less than our best effort,” and
“Students in this class behave the way my teacher wants them to”—produce measurable year-to-year
gains in the academic skills of their students. Teachers who are supportive and respectful—whose
students say, “My teacher seems to know if something is bothering me,” and “My teacher wants us to
share our thoughts”—enhance students’ happiness, voluntary effort in class, and college aspirations.
It’s possible, Ron finds, to be a psychologically wise teacher, just as it’s possible to be
permissive, authoritarian, or negligent. And it’s the wise teachers who seem to promote competence
in addition to well-being, engagement, and high hopes for the future.
Recently, psychologists David Yeager and Geoff Cohen ran an experiment to see what effect the
message of high expectations in conjunction with unflagging support had on students. They asked
seventh-grade teachers to provide written feedback on student essays, including suggestions for
improvement and any words of encouragement they would normally give. Per usual, teachers filled
the margins of the students’ essays with comments.
Next, teachers passed all of the marked-up essays to researchers, who randomly sorted them into
two piles. On half of the essays, researchers affixed a Post-it note that read: