Surviving College

Last week, on a drive home from Trader Joe’s, my son told me he had earned a 4.0 GPA in his spring semester at Ohio State. It was a great end to the Coronavirus-interrupted conclusion of his freshman year. I told him I was proud of him. 

Then I told him this: Your college GPA will have very limited impact on your future and will have a VERY short shelf life. It might help you get in the door for a first job interview (note: get in the door, not get the job) but once you have the first job, future employers won’t care much about your college GPA. It could also be useful for admission to grad school should you choose that route. Otherwise, it won’t mean much. Adults have no idea about other adults’ GPAs.

Before his spirits could drop, I followed with this: Your status as OSU’s Survivor champion might be a much more powerful calling card than your GPA. 

You see, back in early January Zach told us he had applied and been selected to be a contestant in an OSU campus Survivor, an extra-curricular activity modeled after the popular TV reality show. The group organizers had selected 18 undergrads to play Survivor, complete with immunity challenges, secret alliances, and tribal councils. As a fan of the show, Zach was eager to try his hand at the game; he was also excited to make a bunch of new friends and be part of a campus club.

In the early weeks Zach easily avoided elimination, laying low and building strong alliances (friendships) with lots of other contestants (classmates). As the field narrowed down to the final nine, COVID-19 hit. Ohio State campus was closed and students were sent home, but the game went on virtually. Because he was at home, his mom, his sister Caroline, and I got an up-close look at the intensity and passion Zach was devoting to Survivor. He seemed to be spending at least as much time on the game as he was spending on his studies.

There were lots of phone calls to burnish relationships and strategize. There were lots of private conversations with Caroline about his personal strategy. With whom would he promise to build “to the end” alliances and did he think those agreements would hold up? Who was the greatest threat to win and how could he garner the votes to get them “off the island?” Who had won special immunity challenges and what role would those play in upcoming votes? This was serious business and as his engagement in classes waned during online learning, Zach’s engagement with Survivor ratcheted up with each passing tribal council vote.

When he made the final three, we entered a whole new phase of preparation. Zach wrote and feverishly rehearsed the opening and closing statements he would make to his peers in the final tribal council. He anticipated potential questions they would ask him and crafted strategic responses. He analyzed each of the eight former competitors whose votes would choose the champion and calculated trigger points that might sway them to vote for him. 

Caroline and I pressed our ears to the door of our office to hear Zach perform at the final tribal council. We admired his caginess in answering questions in ways that both demonstrated his skill in the game and also his strength in strategic communication. He lauded his good work in getting to the final three while carefully avoiding diminishing the fellow competitors he had vanquished. He honored their skill in the game without pandering or appearing to be sucking up for their votes. 

The other two finalists delivered their final speeches before Zach; both of them chose to speak directly to each of the eight jury members, trying to win them over with praise. Zach had not planned this strategy and Caroline and I both wondered whether he would feel pressured to drop his planned speech and utilize this tactic too. Our hearts were pounding loud enough that we feared he’d hear them through the door. 

Then he spoke. Nope. He held steady and kept to his original plan. His voice was strong and calm. He made his case like an attorney at the end of an emotional trial, striking a careful balance between factual recounting and emotional connection. Caroline and I tiptoed back downstairs to await the results. 

It was the cadence of his descent of the stairs that gave us our answer. There was energy and bounce. He bounded into the living room and announced: I did it! After three months of intense competition, Zach was an OSU Survivor champion! The ensuing celebration was filled with joy and pride. Although it feels strange to write, this moment felt like one of the greatest accomplishments in Zach’s short life. 

Having spent a month watching him work on Survivor and on his classwork, there was no question in my mind about one thing: the skills he was developing in Survivor were more important, more relevant, and more enduring than the skills he was developing in his classes.

And his Survivor title just might be what lands him his dream job.

My experience watching my two daughters’ interview for jobs revealed that employers ask very little about students’ coursework. The GPA can get you in the door, but once the interview process begins it goes out the window. Zach’s ability to talk about his strengths demonstrated in Survivor might really mean something to a potential employer, especially if she is a big fan of the show.

Long after the learning from his coursework fades, Zach’s Survivor victory will still shine. I suspect his diploma will sit in a drawer while his immunity necklace hangs on his bedroom mirror.