Think back to when you were growing up. You were probably told to speak up, lead from the front, never lag behind, get to the top — or be first — or be forgotten. It started with your parents, who seemed to have an instinctive radar for ambition, quickly picked up by teachers, and soon the whole extended family joined in: uncles, aunts, grandparents — everyone had advice, everyone had expectations. And if you were an Indian child, your parents would announce to anyone who would listen how brilliantly you spoke, wrote, scored, or played chess. You didn’t even need to be in the room — your brilliance had a life of its own.
This obsession with speed has crept into education too. We celebrate toppers and gold medallists — but what about the rest? Nearly one in seven adolescents worldwide struggles with mental health issues, often worsened by academic and social pressures. We speak too often of winners, and too rarely of worth.
“Mental health” and “wellbeing” are now fashionable buzzwords. But how much has really changed? Conferences and wellness committees are easy; reducing the pressure that makes them necessary is harder. What we need is a societal awakening — a choice to value balance as much as brilliance, fulfilment as much as first place.
But the older I get, the more I realise that history often belongs to those who took their time. Mandela waited 27 years behind prison walls and emerged with the patience to reconcile, not retaliate. Gandhi moved at the pace of the slowest villager, yet shook the foundations of an empire. Lincoln was accused of being too slow, yet his careful choices preserved a fragile union.
Compare that with some present-day leaders — again, no names needed. Always rushing from summit to summit, posing for photos, issuing urgent declarations that expire before lunch, and tweeting policies into existence before breakfast. They seem to equate motion with progress. In reality, they leave behind press releases, hashtags, and baffled citizens wondering what was actually achieved.
Awards are everywhere — the Most Inspiring Leader, Visionary Extraordinaire, and so on. Many are little more than business models: pay, nominate yourself, and presto — a certificate, shield, or shiny cup. I have never received one myself, but that is not the point. Does every child or adult really need a trophy? When everyone is rewarded, rewards lose their meaning. Some are genuinely well-deserved, but many exist simply to glitter on a shelf. Perhaps it is time to rethink what we are truly rewarding — and why.
I was never a topper. Rarely in front, rarely leading the pack. Yet today, I consider myself successful — not because of medals, but because I have found purpose, balance, and a life I value. Success, I have learned, is not always about being first; it is about being fulfilled.
Drive and ambition matter. But so does perspective. Balance. Wellbeing.
The tortoise, after all, did not hurry — but it reached the finish line just the same.
So the real question for all of us — educators, leaders, parents, and young people alike — is this: in our desperate race to be first, are we forgetting what it really means to be successful? Because history rarely remembers who ran fastest. It remembers who mattered.
Michael Guzder is Senior Vice-President of Education at GEMS and a former Principal.
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