ENCOURAGEMENTS AND CRITICISMS
I've shared in this space that it's been hard for me to know how to find a balance between encouragement and criticism in my communications with the young entrepreneurs I coach. This afternoon's class afforded another opportunity for me to find that balance, and yet I find such a balance ever elusive.
Last week, we hosted a showcase for our young entrepreneurs, and I called on some business professionals from my rolodex to come out and meet them. Though I am hard to please and set impossibly high standards, I was genuinely delighted by my students' performance. They handled a pressure-packed room of inquisitive adults with poise, professionalism, and intelligence. I left the networking function feeling sky-high about my young entrepreneurs.
At the same time that I wanted to convey my pride, though, I wanted to make sure my students did not rest on their laurels, or take themselves too seriously. I have found that young people who have nothing going for them academically are very sensitive about criticism and failure; braggadocio serves as a convenient screen for insecurity about being exposed as bad or dumb. It's why entrepreneurship is so scary -- it involves taking risks and making mistakes -- and it's why entrepreneurship is so important to experience at an early age, in a nurturing environment like the one we try to offer.
So while I wanted them to hear my accolades and live in the reality of a job well done, I didn't want them to then swing to the other end of the pendulum and think that they were invincible and infallible, and that the hard work was over. So I tried to balance compliments with criticisms, encouragements with exhortations.
And I never quite got comfortable, never quite felt balanced. Sometimes I bristled at the arrogance of the teens, nervous that they were over-inflating themselves to the point of hubris and unreality. Other times I felt I needed to offer more encouragements, to remind them of just how momentous an occasion it was for them to have done so well in such a difficult setting.
I neither want to patronize my youth nor be overly harsh. I want them to soar in the knowledge of their talents and accomplishments, but I want them to be sobered by how much they must do to be able to participate and thrive in mainstream society. I want them to work hard, harder than they'd ever imagined and harder than any of their peers; but I want them to be kids, too, and I want them to be able to have enough perspective to look back and see how far they've come.
I only hope that my muddled mix of encouragements and criticisms can help these young women and men to grow into business leaders who are humble yet confident, and who can compete and succeed in our economy and in our society.
I've shared in this space that it's been hard for me to know how to find a balance between encouragement and criticism in my communications with the young entrepreneurs I coach. This afternoon's class afforded another opportunity for me to find that balance, and yet I find such a balance ever elusive.
Last week, we hosted a showcase for our young entrepreneurs, and I called on some business professionals from my rolodex to come out and meet them. Though I am hard to please and set impossibly high standards, I was genuinely delighted by my students' performance. They handled a pressure-packed room of inquisitive adults with poise, professionalism, and intelligence. I left the networking function feeling sky-high about my young entrepreneurs.
At the same time that I wanted to convey my pride, though, I wanted to make sure my students did not rest on their laurels, or take themselves too seriously. I have found that young people who have nothing going for them academically are very sensitive about criticism and failure; braggadocio serves as a convenient screen for insecurity about being exposed as bad or dumb. It's why entrepreneurship is so scary -- it involves taking risks and making mistakes -- and it's why entrepreneurship is so important to experience at an early age, in a nurturing environment like the one we try to offer.
So while I wanted them to hear my accolades and live in the reality of a job well done, I didn't want them to then swing to the other end of the pendulum and think that they were invincible and infallible, and that the hard work was over. So I tried to balance compliments with criticisms, encouragements with exhortations.
And I never quite got comfortable, never quite felt balanced. Sometimes I bristled at the arrogance of the teens, nervous that they were over-inflating themselves to the point of hubris and unreality. Other times I felt I needed to offer more encouragements, to remind them of just how momentous an occasion it was for them to have done so well in such a difficult setting.
I neither want to patronize my youth nor be overly harsh. I want them to soar in the knowledge of their talents and accomplishments, but I want them to be sobered by how much they must do to be able to participate and thrive in mainstream society. I want them to work hard, harder than they'd ever imagined and harder than any of their peers; but I want them to be kids, too, and I want them to be able to have enough perspective to look back and see how far they've come.
I only hope that my muddled mix of encouragements and criticisms can help these young women and men to grow into business leaders who are humble yet confident, and who can compete and succeed in our economy and in our society.
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