Amherst College

The “It” We’re All Getting On With

 

I went to college at 27, the oldest freshman Amherst had ever admitted I was told.  After my junior year I took a year’s sabbatical.  A romantic entanglement was getting in the way of my studies.  I needed time to allow the relationship to work itself out.  Turns out, that romance died at the same time I met the love of my life and two children who were to become our daughters.  Upon my return, a professor, learning of my year away, said, “Gee, I’m surprised.  I would have thought at your age you’d want to finish up and get on with it.”  That statement is one of the most important things anyone has ever said to me.

It led me to ask what was this “it” I would be getting on with––and why did I need to finish up my wonderful undergraduate experience in order to do so? Read More

Michael Jordan Missed Nearly Half His Shots

As a guy who graduated next-to-last in his high school class yet found himself at Amherst, one of the nation’s elite colleges, where the only thing I knew for sure was that I could work my ass off, few principles have been more valuable than this from the late champion of non-violent communication, Marshall Rosenberg: 

Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.

Generally, many of us find that a bit counter-intuitive.  Our natural inclination would suggest that there’s hardly a greater aspiration than to be highly accomplished at something––from growing potatoes to loving our children.  

And sure, well developed skills can be invaluable––especially if we’re on the receiving end: heart transplants, wedding cakes, skydiving instruction, family quarrel mediation.  The list is encyclopedic.  

But linking our self-regard to our ability to produce an outcome of a superior nature is risky business if you ask me.  Striving for it is noble.  Needing to get it is death.  There’s only so much room at the top.  Besides, our performance compared to that of others is always out of our control.  And to be attached to anything out of our control is basically a commitment to misery. Read More

Year’s of Gratitude in One Minute

A precious learning at Amherst.

Years of Gratitude in One Minute

I recently attended my college reunion at Amherst.  Among the events was an invitation for alumni to speak about something related to the college that they were particularly grateful for––an event, a relationship, a learning that has been a big part of their life since––and (at a school where, customarily, brevity is not a virtue) to do so in one minute.

Here’s what I said:

September 1971.  The president’s reception for incoming freshman.  I was 27, the oldest freshman Amherst had ever admitted, I was told.  And, very likely, the only freshman to have graduated next-to-last in his high school class.

While I evidently did enough interesting stuff in my life to get admitted, apprehension remained.  Could I actually thrive here?

When I introduced myself to president Bill Ward, he said, “Oh, you’re the old guy.”  And then he said the most beautiful thing:  “Welcome.  You’re where you belong.  Enjoy yourself.”

Today, I help people play with provocative questions.  For instance: What should the sign say that hangs over the entrance to your organization, the sign you want every colleague to see every day?

If I were asked to answer that question for Amherst, I’d bow to Bill Ward and say: “Welcome.  You’re where you belong.  Enjoy yourself.”

"The push to change the words “nigger” and “injun” in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, because the so-called offensive nature of those terms might limit today’s readership and appreciation of that literary classic, is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on how we avoid taking responsibility for our feelings––and therefore miss the chance to become more awake, more whole, more useful friends to one another."

The Essay: The Gold in Niggers and Injuns