A tiny, unassuming German guy named Pavel Kitsul taught me a valuable life lesson.
Rewind to 2009. I’m a terrified college freshman standing outside a classroom door, praying I interpreted my schedule correctly so I can attend Calculus. It’s a scrawny type of fear.
An extremely short professor approached at the top of the hour, unlocked the door, and proceeded to teach us math with very broken english. He was very German, thoroughly entertaining, and endlessly quotable.
Then came our first exam.
Math was always easy for me. I studied and passed the AP Calculus tests independently to earn college credit. This meant I didn’t have to actually take Calculus in college, but I did anyway on the recommendation of my best friend and roommate who was a year ahead of me.
I decided not to study for the exam: a strategy that had rewarded me for 12 years in a row. Of course I know the material.
When the results came back, Pavel Kitsul plotted the grades on the whiteboard before handing us the results. When I saw the few scores above 90, I felt assured that I dominated the exam. After all, I was awesome.
Then I got a massive slice of humble pie: low 60s.
Oof.
This changed everything for me. I’d always been one of the best students, naturally exceeding everyone in math, getting by with little effort. At first I thought there was a mistake. Denial. Then acceptance.
I never wanted to feel so exposed again.
To prepare for the next exam I did something I’d never done before: studied. There wasn’t much of a process to it. I reviewed a few things and restarted a few homework problems. It wasn’t much, but it improved my grade a little bit.
I started making it a habit.
By the end of the semester I was near the top of every exam I took. A result I didn’t initially expect, but one I welcomed. This tiny, brilliant, hard-to-understand German professor taught me some important lessons:
1. It’s possible to become better at things
After I recovered from the shock of my low test score, it forced me to adjust my habits.
My pride was too large to accept average scores, so I started studying. The craziest part about this new habit was that it worked. I was posting high scores, occasionally setting the curve for the entire class.
It became a game. A competition. The material was less important than setting the curve and beating my classmates in mental gymnastics,
My newfound confidence carried me through my entire undergraduate degree.
It was clear that tests I studied for turned out better results. Studying became an addiction: if a test was coming up, I’d regularly put in 12 to 16 hours worth of time at the library running through material, practice tests, and homework review. Connecting preparation to results built a mental foundation for everything else in my life.
Great things happen if you put in the time.
I’m not trying to brag. In some ways, I don’t feel like the results are due to my actual self (who is only capable of average outcomes on a good day). Rather, my alter-ego found a cheat code to make things easier. Preparation is a cheat code.
Practice makes progress. Putting in the time to learn things and practice concepts is a simple way to set yourself apart from others in every category of life. Most of our limitations are there only because we allow them.
When I left civil engineering to pursue a career in technology, I bet on my ability to learn and master the materials. The first few weeks of my studying was rough – I didn’t know anything. Eventually, through consistent effort and belief in self-improvement, I upskilled and landed a job that kickstarted an exciting chapter of my professional life.
Few of us reach for our full potential.
2. A good challenge goes a long way.
If I’d coasted through calculus I wouldn’t be where I am today.
It’s important that it was calculus that I struggled with because I was already good at math. My bad score was shocking. Compare that to physics: a test score in the low 40s didn’t startle me into action – that stuff was hard!
Good challenges deliver humility to an arena you’ve taken for granted.
When I hear how people talk about being average in a collegiate or professional sport after being the best in high school, it makes a lot of sense. For most people, natural talent needs friction to inspire growth. In Greg Harden’s book Stay Sane in an Insane World, he talks about a conversation he had with a young Michael Phelps before the historic 2008 Olympics in Beijing:
“As good as you are,” I told him, “we still don’t know how good you can be. You still haven’t given 100 percent, 100 percent of the time.”
There’s very little motivation to give 100 percent to things that come easy to you. Challenging your natural talent can feel demoralizing, but it’s also a reminder that you’re not reaching for your full potential (if you can overcome the surprise and embarrassment of a bad result).
3. Experience is an underrated mentor
I don’t imagine Pavel Kitsul views me as a mentee. And I don’t really think of him as a mentor of any kind, but the impact of that humbling experience absolutely was. Mentors don’t have to be people.
Anything or anyone that positively disrupts your thinking and calls you to greater heights is a mentorship experience.
Some may call these paradigm shifts because they challenge the assumptions we hold about the world and ourselves. Great leaders challenge their people in unique and inspiring ways to spur this from them.
Think about the Michael Jordans and Tom Bradys of the world:
They weren’t the most naturally talented and gifted athletes in the world. Plenty of the athletes on the field were faster, smarter, or stronger than them. What transformed them from good to great was their commitment to reflection, coachability, and growth. Jordan and Brady had great people in their ear, challenging them to elevate themselves in new ways. They sought mentorship in people and their experiences.
- Michael Jordan famously created “grudges” from nothing burgers to bring out the best in himself against certain teams: the mentor of madness.
- Tom Brady was constantly told he wasn’t ever going to be a great player, which emboldened him to prove others wrong: the mentor of self-confidence.
- My professor taught me how much more of my own potential I can witness if I put in the work and refuse to settle for average: the mentor of humility.
Thank you, Dr. Kitsul, for whooping my butt with a hard calculus exam. It might be responsible for the creation of a startup, and it’s definitely at fault for helping me reach my full potential.