Lessons from Bowling

I have the pleasure of working with a group of smart, dedicated, and passionate undergraduates at the Basic Needs Center at the University of California, Davis. Our Center provides food, housing, and financial resources to the over 40,000 students on the campus, and the students who come to us are facing extremely challenging situations as they seek to accomplish their (and their family’s) dream of new opportunities. Just under half of these students are the first in their families to go into higher education. The Federal Government considers over one-third of them to be very low income, deserving of financial support.

Our student staff is a microcosm of this broader student body, and they amaze us as they provide direct service to other students day to day. They deal with the most challenging cases and guide students to the resources they need. It is safe to say that I am, quite often, in awe of them.

We deal with the stress of this work by maintaining a high level of unbridled joking and general pranking. It keeps us sane, and no one is exempt.

So, when a colleague suggested we all go bowling at an on-campus bowling alley (the only one in town!), I got ready for a LOT of competition–with personal challenges and trash-talking. And in the lead-up to the event, I was not disappointed. Challenges got personal, and lines were drawn. I expected much of the same in the lanes.

But after we got our stylish shoes and selected the appropriate balls, everything changed. A silence settled over the lanes, broken only by the crash of pins. Competition turned to encouragement, and trash-talking gave way to grim resolve. I could see it in their faces–I could imagine it in my own.

We rolled.

And while we all had fun, I was struck by the utter seriousness with which every person took their turn. Amid the smiles, a focus and seriousness about the whole affair prevailed. We were having fun, but there was a studiousness that suggested we were sitting for a final exam.

I later learned that all but one of us was a “first gen”-the first of our family to attend university. And when I examined my own feelings throughout the evening (Did I mention it was fun? It was!), I identified what was going on.

The truth is, we did not leave the competition at the office. It was very much present. But we were not competing against the others. We were competing against ourselves. Our grimness was just concentration. Our stoicism was focus.

A focus on doing better.

On bettering ourselves.

And we were our own worst critics.

As I stood back and observed, I experienced a deep sense of pride in these students. I felt a tightening in my chest as I realized they approached this time of fun with the same determination and commitment they brought to their jobs and studies.

I will admit that I nearly wept.

There is a dark side to all of this. Imposter syndrome has followed me my entire life. Despite what has, arguably, been a successful career, I battle with that demon almost every day. Those who don’t live in that reality cannot understand how debilitating it can be: to always have to prove oneself, no matter one’s accomplishments, over and over and over again.

I suspect that my young colleagues face that demon all too often, too. And I mourn for them (as I mourn for myself).

But if one can overcome the challenges of the syndrome, one can marshal the strength to do extraordinary things. One can drive to be better–to serve more faithfully, to work more assiduously, to persevere more completely.

We went bowling.

And it was beautiful.