Last winter, inspired by online garment-making tutorials, I bought myself a sewing machine. I envisioned instant success. I would make perfectly tailored dresses out of curtains like Maria Von Trapp, patch up holes in old jeans until they looked new, and present keychains and tote bags to friends on their birthdays.

My first project was a pair of blue pajama pants. I spent my whole weekend making them, methodically cutting, matching, and stitching until I had happily assembled a completed pair. But the seams were jagged and already fraying. One leg was longer than the other, and both were comically short. I shrugged in defeat, fearing that, if my projects looked like this, sewing was probably not my thing.

Sad to say, false starts and abandoned ventures are common at my age. Although presented with a variety of opportunities and activities, teenagers often confine themselves to the skills they already excel at and shy away from those they do not. 

In the world of education and college admissions, this kind of  specialization is known as “pointiness.” The ability to commit to and perfect a specific domain is highly regarded. The limitation of pointy success, however, is that students do not stray far from the activities they are gifted at. After all, they reason, why pursue a skill without some level of natural ability? Why start from behind?

Yet students who strive for pointiness from a young age may lose exposure that helps them become well rounded and happy individuals. Casting a wider net of activities, despite varying levels of skill, gives space for challenge, gradual improvement, and building complexity of character. 

I myself have fallen victim to this specialization mindset. I have always felt a general ease in writing and storytelling. From earliest elementary school fairytales to analytical essays, I wrote with eagerness and passion and was praised for what I produced. The more I succeeded, the more I chased success. I liked words and knew how to use them. Writing became my thing.

Unable to replicate this same success, however, I wound down participation in the other activities that brought me joy. Musical theater was fun in middle school, but by the time I reached ninth grade, my voice was not as strong as the talented upperclassmen. I loved softball, but after two years on JV, I decided there was no way I would be able to make varsity.

The year before I quit piano, I had arrived at my lesson bearing the same mistakes I had made the week prior. My instructor sat me down and said, “Maya, I know why you don’t practice. You don’t practice because it is hard for you. And that’s scary.” 

Years later, I can admit that she was right. Without instant achievement, my motivation fell short. When these activities got hard, I gravitated toward things where success came more readily. 

As I stared at my misshapen pants, I feared sewing would soon be added to this list of abandoned hobbies. Yet looking back at my past failures, I felt a sense of regret. What could have happened had I stuck with softball or didn’t ditch Debussy? 

In his 2019 book, “Range,” journalist David Epstein argued that generalists, those that reject forced early specialization, are often successful as they can adapt to solve complex problems through their broad knowledge and diverse experiences. 

He cited Roger Federer as the ultimate example of a generalist as he competed in many sports, from skiing to soccer, before winning his 103 singles titles as a tennis star. Epstein added that his background as a generalist allowed Federer to become a superior athlete and navigator of challenges. 

I began to notice the valuable skills I had acquired from each of my past hobbies. I am unafraid of public speaking and presentation today as a result of the years I spent on stage. I use my softball experience to write technically sound sports coverage for my school newspaper. While I didn’t excel within those endeavors, the breadth of experience has contributed to other successes. 

Continuing to broaden my horizons will not only provide me with exposure to new interests, but help sharpen my points.

I kept sewing.

For my next project, I decided to sew a shirt. It didn’t fit right—it was somehow both too small and too large—but I wore it anyway, embracing its imperfections as a reminder of the process and my commitment to continuing its pursuit.

I don’t know if I will ever sew the perfectly tailored dresses I had imagined. My seams may always be jagged and the lengths uneven. But as a generalist, I am not aiming for perfection, just a desire to continue, to learn and to enjoy the process. 

Maya Solomon is a senior at Newton North High School and a former sports and features editor for North’s student newspaper, The Newtonite. She can be reached at mayaisolomon@gmail.com.