In today’s world, there’s an overwhelming emphasis on excellence. We love the star athletes, the performers, the innovative thinkers.
Schools and universities highlight the extraordinary students, celebrating the ones poised to leave a lasting legacy. And rightly so. Their stories are inspiring.
But in all the gushing over innovators and high achievers, what are we telling the rest of the
students—the majority—who don’t have the drive or even desire to be the next tech mogul or groundbreaking scientist? Are we implying their ordinary aspirations aren’t good enough?
I’m not saying we shouldn’t celebrate those who aim high—we absolutely should. But should we also pause to consider whether we’ve unintentionally dismissed the value of the “average” path, the one that doesn’t seek fame or global recognition but still contributes to society in meaningful ways?
“What if I’m not trying to change the world?”
By junior year of college, when my son was well into his major-focused studies, he was feeling defeated. He was in the finance department and just wanted to learn practical tools to help businesses succeed.
He wanted to understand how to plan resources, how to perform entry-level accounting tasks, and how to forecast a budget. Yet in most of his classes, the message seemed clear: real success meant changing the world.
When he came home for winter break that year, he was frustrated. What if he didn’t want to
found an innovative new business? What if he wasn’t trying to jet set around the globe in pursuit of notoriety? He asked, “What if I’m not trying to change the whole world?”
He went on, and I remember his words as if he had said them yesterday. “What if I just want to go to work every day then come home to a house in the suburbs, a decent-looking wife, and two ugly kids?
What’s wrong with that?”
Nothing, son. There’s nothing wrong with that
What’s wrong with aiming for an average life? After all, that’s what most of us end up with
anyway. Over half (55%) of Americans live in suburban areas. Nearly 80% of Americans marry by age 40. The average number of kids per family is almost two.
What’s wrong with embracing these stats and shooting for this kind of life? What’s wrong with wanting to be happy with the ordinary?
My son has always—since he was a toddler—tried to blend in. The spotlight is not his cozy
place. He’s most comfortable working in the background, not center stage.
He’s a details guy who likes to take on a challenge, see it through, and then quietly bask in the satisfaction of a job well done—without an audience.
Tinkering with model cars was one of his favorite hobbies as a kid. To this day, he prefers to toil solo or in very small groups. He gets laser focused on a task and strives to do it well—again, without an audience.
Essentially, my son is a worker bee.
The world needs worker bees
The world needs worker bees, better yet, people who really enjoy being worker bees.
No business can survive without folks who ensure the details aren’t overlooked. Our whole
system depends on people who can manage the day-to-day minutia and who have the integrity to do their jobs right.
Yes, the idea people are necessary, too. Fresh ideas are the catalyst, but the worker bees, the ones who like work for the sake of work, are vital for bringing innovative ideas to fruition.
But it’s more than just work ethic. The world needs people who aren’t constantly starving for recognition or glory. People who take pride in their craft, who excel in their competencies, and who are willing to handle the crucial details that the dreamers often overlook. Without the backstage crew, who sets everything in place so the stars can shine?
Families are vital too
Something else that seemed lost on my son’s college professors is that the world also needs families. For most human beings on the planet, the family was our first training ground. It’s where we first learned how to wait our turn, respect authority, voice our concerns, get along with others, share, be responsible, and make sacrifices for the good of the group.
Families are important. Families are fulfilling. Families are where—most parents will agree—true meaning is realized.
If my son wants to grow up, go to work, and be a dad to “two ugly kids,” that’s perfectly okay by me. It’s more than okay. The mere thought of him raising a family makes my heart explode with pride and anticipation. But for his academic leaders in college, family was a mere afterthought.
My point: Embrace the ordinary
During that conversation in our kitchen, my son asked, rhetorically, “If everyone who graduates college is supposed to go out and change the world, then who’s going to do the actual work?”
He’s a numbers guy, and they just didn’t add up. He was completely right. Steady contributors matter. The daily toilers are the ones keeping this whole system afloat—with clean laundry, full bellies, balanced budgets, functional roadways, on-time schedules, and reliable utilities.
I know this. You know this. Anyone who has a job and responsibilities they live up to knows this. But somehow, his university was overlooking the importance of competent, dependable doers.
Sure, most colleges would love to turn out the next Bezos or Zuckerberg. Big accomplishments equal big donors. But was his university so focused on finding their prized world-changer that they were telling their ordinary students, with average goals, that they weren’t good enough? That their dreams were silly? That their humble aspirations didn’t really matter?
So yes, let’s continue celebrating the innovators and the visionaries. But let’s not forget about the ones who keep the world turning—the ones who define success not through headlines, but through quiet consistency: marriage, two (maybe ugly) kids, and a job done well every day.
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