I don’t remember where I first heard it, but there’s an idea out there that high-achieving people should strive to be a little better every day.

Like a lot of well-meaning life advice, this one sounds all right until you dig deeper.

What does it mean to get better? How do you measure it? Are we supposed to be getting better at everything we do, or one thing at a time? And what happens if you don’t get better?

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I keep thinking back to a perfect day last October.

I woke up in a boutique hotel room just off of Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. after having spent a lovely weekend with my family (including my littlest nephew). The city was a bit on edge because the Astros had taken the lead over the Nationals the night before in Game 5 of the World Series, which I had watched in between bites of cake and ice cream the night before in a common area of the hotel (along with getting a little work done).

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Middle school is a time of great change and upheaval in a person’s life. We can thank puberty for that, along with an adolescent’s growing self-awareness and sense of identity.

Many students try on different superficial identities, coming to school with a carefully cultivated goth, punk, or preppy look. If it doesn’t fit, they simply move on to the next one.

On the other hand, there are profound transformations that are possible when students are willing. They can let go of a lifelong antipathy toward math and become devoted to it; instead of being closed off and lonely, they can initiate friendships.

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My husband and I just moved into a new house. Actually, it’s a very old house, built in 1880.

Accordingly, it’s small by modern standards, just under 900 square feet. But it doesn’t feel small. It feels just right.

I’ve lived in places that felt too small. And the logical solution was to move somewhere bigger. But what I now see, after spending some time living miserably in an enormous house, is that bigger isn’t necessarily better. It is more useful to identify and address specific challenges.

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“Yesterday, she sat at the piano and cried,” said Angie about her nine-year-old, “and today she’s refusing to play.”

It didn’t take much to soothe Angie, despite how dire the situation seemed. I told her that I’ve cried at the piano bench many a time. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean that her daughter has had enough and should quit piano. On the contrary, it means that she really cares about what she’s doing and a breakthrough is on its way if she sticks with it.

Do we want a child to feel this level of frustration in their first six months of piano lessons? Of course not. But Angie’s daughter had been playing for more than three years. She was an accomplished player for her age who was setting big goals for herself.

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