“You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving.”
-Dr. Paul Kalanithi, from When Breath Becomes Air
My least favorite word in the English language is “perfect.” It’s extremely vague, and I’m not quite sure what it describes.
What does it mean to be “perfect?” I think that when we strive for perfection, we strive to do everything correctly. This could encompass getting full marks on exams, having an ideal study schedule that we stick to…and the list goes on. These things are possible, but doing it all the time isn’t. As we push ourselves and attempt more challenging feats, we are going to fall short. There are going to be times where we stress, where we feel completely unmotivated and thus don’t apply ourselves fully. There are going to be times where we make mistakes… and where we are not “perfect.”
We like to believe that this won’t happen, but it does. For all of us, there is going to be a certain level we reach where we’re going to stop and realize, “Woah… I’m really struggling, look at how bad I’m doing.” This will undoubtedly be accompanied with some shock and discomfort, and that’s okay. For instance, this most applies to me in school, and more specifically in the context of grades. Currently, I’m taking AP English Language & Composition, designed by the College Board to be the college-level equivalent to a first-year English class in college.
On the first day of class, I remember my English teacher saying something to the effect of, “You shouldn’t be here if you simply want to get an A in the course.” He then proceeded to pull out a sticky note containing the “grade breakdown” from the previous year’s AP Lang class: during the first quarter, one person obtained an A in the class, a few people obtained B’s, and the rest obtained a lower grade. Us students, who were used to getting A’s in previous honors classes, glanced at each other with widened, frightened eyes. The possibility of not getting an A, of doing worse than in the previous year’s English class, or of not being good at something, was unsettling.
The lesson was that there was more to the class – such as personal growth – than a “perfect” grade and that failure and setbacks were inevitable. When we got to those setbacks, there had to be another motivating factor carrying us through. I call this the pivotal point. When we reach this roadblock, what do we choose to do? Do we simply walk away, lamenting over the fact that we’re not “good” at or that we can never achieve perfection at that activity? Or do we push through, remembering the underlying goal that made us pursue the activity in the first place?
After all, if we are already “perfect” at something, then what’s there to learn?
I call this entire thought process the “pivotal moment.”
What we decide at this moment (and how we recover from the setback, mentally) defines us more than our performance in the task itself; in other words, the fact that we’re trying our best and persisting is more important than being “good” – or even “perfect” – at the task. Even though failure is certain, the attitude of perseverance will carry us far in life.
Relating to this, my history teacher said something that stuck with me: “Chase excellence, not perfection.” Excellence is improvement; it’s genuine learning that reflects our passion and commitment toward a goal. Perfection, on the other hand, is an impossible standard. It’s an asymptote that we can approach in our quest for excellence, and we can strive for it but at the end of the day… I don’t think perfection describes anything of value. Sure, “perfection” may be the difference between a 94 and a 98 in a class, but in the long term, those numbers don’t matter – nor do they fully capture our true progress or understanding of the material, or other traits that will pay off:
I’ve tried to apply this mentality to other aspects of life, as well. I’m a violinist, and quite honestly, I don’t consider myself that “good.” While I think my playing carries some beauty, I’m not a prodigy (and definitely not as skilled as some of my peers), and it takes me a while to learn technically advanced passages. By that measure, my playing definitely isn’t “perfect.” That’s okay; I play because I want to improve in the activity and because I find it fulfilling. And as I keep on improving, I can achieve excellence in what I play.
Hence, we should work to do what’s fulfilling for us, individually. In this process, we’ll reach uncomfortable points – those pivotal moments – and we may feel like giving up. The goal shouldn’t be to achieve perfection, but to strive for improvement and personal growth, which in a way, is striving for that asymptote of perfection. Because at the end of the day, there should be a higher purpose behind what we’re doing.
