My high school history teacher, Mr Wright, was more physically fit than I thought. He lithely stepped onto the diving board, walked to the tip, and peered into the water. He acted as though he wanted to make sure the water in the pool was still there, while we, the student body, cheered and jeered. How brave, I thought, for Mr Wright to appear before us shirtless and in swim trunks. It would’ve been better, or more laughable, if he was out-of-shape like our other teachers. Plus, bigger bodies made bigger belly-flop splashes.
I wondered if the reason behind the belly-flop challenge, offered to any teacher who was interested, was to reset the pool’s reputation for bad luck. One day several months prior, Carrie, a petite diving-team member, prepared to practice a dive from the diving board. At the same instant, someone at baseball practice on the field next door hit a foul ball, and the ball sailed an unlikely distance at an unlikely angle, and hit Carrie on the head. Carrie fell into the water, clambered out, and spent some time after unable to speak in coherent sentences. She recovered; the pool’s image did not. But if anyone could shift our thinking, it was plucky Mr Wright, in baggy blue swim trunks, on the diving board — unless something went wrong.
Purpose and Flow
Each school morning, scowling over their coffee mugs, my other high school teachers trudged their way to their classrooms. I often wondered why they continued teaching if they disliked being a teacher so much. They treated their job as though they couldn’t find anything better, or as though the role was much less fulfilling than they expected. As a result, their classrooms were vortexes of colorless energy.
Mr Wright’s classroom was different. He navigated the day’s lesson with high expectations of student engagement, and kept us on our toes. If you didn’t do the reading, or express your curiosity, Mr Wright made you feel like the lesson, and your classmates, lacked your contribution. He didn’t lead the class from behind his desk, he taught us on his feet. He didn’t stand with his back to us while he scribbled on the whiteboard, he faced us and made eye contact. He didn’t look at the clock, and his class periods melted away.
If you want to dive into the flow at work, or intend to improve the way you feel about what you do for a living, ask yourself this: why am I here? A big lesson I learned from Mr Wright was that fulfillment at work begins with defining your purpose. Without a purpose, there’s little chance of finding your flow.
Is Flow Only for a Few?
Artists and athletes talk about flow as a mental state where time disappears and whatever the performer intends to produce flows easily from their efforts. They infer that being “in the flow,” or “in the zone,” happens when a participant is doing the thing that they were born to do, after years of diligent practice. This is truthful, but not the whole story.
If flow is a state of being, then flow is as accessible as happiness, sadness, or any other mental state. The trick lies in setting the stage so that flow makes an appearance. While Mr Wright’s fellow teachers allowed other mental states to dominate their performances, Mr Wright knew the secret stage-setting tactics to solicit flow.
What You Need to Know to Find Your Flow
Firstly, Mr Wright took steps to avoid distractions. He didn’t hold a coffee mug or lecture notes during class. He kept his cell phone in his backpack, on silent, or off. When he worked, he was engaged and fully present.
Next, Mr Wright worked toward a short-term goal — delivering his lecture, leading a discussion, and giving an assignment. However, he wasn’t rigid in his approach. He allowed and encouraged our input though he could not anticipate the content or the resulting effect. In other words, Mr Wright was able to maintain a clearly defined end-goal, and remain flexible in the path to the goal’s achievement.
Mr Wright made sure to exude a positive attitude and convey confidence in his abilities. He set his likely frustration with office politics and a lack of resources aside. His assuredness sustained our attention and stoked the class’s forward momentum.
Mr Wright often talked about how he loved hiking and riding his bike, and in this way he encouraged us to maintain good health. Mr Wright’s healthiness contributed to his teaching by giving him enough strength and energy to match the demands. He wasn’t a health nut; he just made good health a habit.
Finally, Mr Wright would actively seek new challenges within the scope of his work, whether it was a new concept to teach or a new way to connect with his students. In class, he took our questions (the thoughtful ones) and built on them. I could almost see his mind working to innovate his lecture as he presented it. In addition, when given the opportunity to engage with his students on a new level by starring in a belly-flop splashdown, Mr. Wright said yes.
The Last Hurdle to Flow
Mr Wright retreated from the tip of the diving board, and shook his head as though he had second thoughts. We, his students, didn’t fall for it. We cheered louder, and heckled him more. I admired his instinct to draw the performance out, but I worried that he would act too much like a clown and diminish our anticipation.
Mr Wright had to be nervous. He probably hoped that he wasn’t going to get hurt. At the very least, smacking flat against water from a height often caused bruising. Also, if he got injured, the event would fail to renew our school pride in our swim-team’s pool of misfortune.
Mr Wright stepped up onto the diving board again. This time, he took a moment to still his body, and focus. We grew quiet, too. Then, he took three great strides down the board toward the water, bounced once at the tip, and sailed into the air. He somehow reached back and grabbed both his ankles, then let go and stretched out just before he hit the water. The splash wasn’t that impressive, but we shot to our feet and cheered as though we’d witnessed a tidal wave. Mr Wright climbed from the pool, smiled, and saluted us.
What is the last hurdle to flow, or the final barrier to full engagement at work? Mr Wright would say it’s hesitance, or fear. It’s something we all deal with when we step to the edge of possibility, or the chance to dive in. If it helps, remember that I am cheering you on, not so that you’ll make a big splash, but that you’ll fly. When you choose to overcome that last hurdle, remember these tips to induce periods of flow at work:
- Avoid distractions.
- Maintain a clearly-defined end-goal, and remain flexible in its achievement.
- Exude a positive attitude and convey confidence in your abilities.
- Maintain good health.
- Seek new challenges.