Mr. Farhad Mordechai Sabeti
Executive Director, Bnei Akiva Schools
In a corner of their nondescript cage, a group of monkeys congregates around a small wooden crate that had just been placed there moments earlier. Caving to her curiosity, one of the monkeys slowly approaches the crate and carefully lifts the lid just enough to reveal what’s contained within. Immediately terrified, the monkeys collectively leap back at the sight of dozens of snakes circling the floor of the crate.
This reaction may seem natural and entirely predictable, but it’s what happened next that caught the attention of German zoologist Alfred Brehm: the monkeys returned to the crate – fully aware of its contents – to take a second look. Brehm’s work in the 1800s prompted many other researchers to replicate this result with hundreds of other species, and signaled the presence of an important biological desire: novelty. The monkeys were undoubtedly frightened by what they saw, yet they gravitated again towards something that was different and new.
Behavioral scientist and Harvard professor Francesca Gino recounts Brehm’s story in her renowned book, Rebel Talent: Why It Pays to Break Rules at Work and in Life (DeyStreet, 2018). In Rebel Talent, Gino investigates the ways in which innovation is often driven by individuals with unconventional approaches. More importantly to those of us concerned with how individuals learn and develop, she argues that the dimensions of ‘rebel talent’ – one of which is novelty-seeking – can be cultivated and developed.
Novelty – perceived changes or ‘newness’ in our experiences and interactions – can take on many forms. Novelty can be small and trivial, such as a different lunch order, or as substantial and significant as a move to a different country. What’s more, much like Brehm’s curious monkeys, we’re born with a natural drive to seek novelty. This is perhaps most evident in observing children at play, and when reading Gino’s words, I couldn’t help but be transported five years back to the first time my wife and I took our children tobogganing.
After the obligatory half-hour of weather-proofing, I found myself at the top of a large hill grasping both sides of the disc-shaped sled that held my two-year-old son. Sitting cross-legged – at least as cross-legged as his oversized snow pants would allow – my son looked up at me with a puzzled expression. After watching his mother race down the hill with glee and laughter, he quickly realized that I was the only thing between him and the icy slope towards the bottom of the hill. He wore his anxiety in his grip on my arm. He struggled to express himself, teetering between fear and wonder. To an observer, he was visibly unsure of the situation, but refused to get up from the sled.
“Okay, we’re up!” I declared. The balance tipped from wonder back to fear, and I pulled a worn page from every parent’s playbook: I conjured up a confident and supportive smile, and let go. He raced down the hill – half screaming, half laughing – and I raced down behind him. His back was to me as I made my way down, and I wondered nervously what would be waiting for me at the bottom. I came up beside him and he looked stunned, with a blank look on his face. I crouched down into the snow, and he allowed a little smile to escape. He whispered, “Again, Baba.”
When we want to open ourselves to growth, novelty serves us well. Novelty in its many forms has been shown to be related to improvements in job satisfaction, task performance, creativity, and even the quality of our professional and interpersonal relationships. Simply looking for and making ourselves open to new opportunities to learn and experience the world around us is related to growth in key areas of our lives.What’s the mechanism by which we derive so much value from novelty? It turns out that this is intrinsically related to our own sense of self, and our understanding of our capabilities. Gino relates this to a growing version of ourselves, and explains this relationship through the experience of ‘self-expansion’:
“When we engage in novel activities and acquire new skills, our sense of who we are expands, as does the number of traits we use to describe who we are. This, in turn, heightens our confidence that we can accomplish our goals, even when we’re outside of our comfort zone, and it also increases our commitment to reaching our destination, no matter how tough the road.” (p.41).
When I think about learning – formal and informal, in professional and school contexts – this idea of self-expansion succinctly captures the quintessential goal of education in its broadest sense. Self-expansion is what we hope and strive for in the growth of our colleagues, our students, our children, our families, and ourselves: learning about the world around us while building our sense of self through exploration and perseverance.
As Gino notes, the further we move from childhood, the more the drive for novelty dissipates in direct conflict with our need for predictability and routine. And this is for good reason since routines are extremely important to us. They help us makes sense of and cope with our complicated lives. In our professional lives, weekly meetings help us stay organized and business processes help us feel productive. In schools, every week follows the same schedule of class meetings, and sometimes classes themselves follow the same structure to help activate our thinking in a short period of time. In our personal lives, routine helps us ensure that we make time for taking care of ourselves and spending time with our loved ones. These are all important, and I am not advocating for abandoning routines in our lives. I personally thrive on routine, and it helps me balance the different demands and priorities.
But if we are serious about self-expansion, then we should also be serious about novelty. ‘Spurring wonder’ sounds like a lofty and perhaps elusive goal, but opportunities for novelty are all around us. Find a new space to study. Stand instead of sitting. Take a class that takes you out of your comfort zone. Learn a new language. Sit with someone new over lunch. Take a different route home.
Some of these examples might sound trivial, while others involve making ourselves vulnerable. But seeking novelty in our experience can have profound effects, and for that reason alone, we should look for opportunities whenever appropriate and possible. We may be terrified racing down the novelty hill, but more often than not, we’re likely to grow from the experience and find ourselves changed for the better.
“Again, Baba.”
