A few weeks ago, my daughter burst through the door after school, ranting about her social studies teacher.
“He’s making us label all 50 states on a map, and the test is in two days,” she fumed. Then she quickly descended into conspiracy theories.
“I think he wants us to fail! I think he likes it!”
She had, however, spotted a silver lining. She’d done the math and realized that even if she failed to identify a single state, she’d still earn an A for the semester.
“So,” she concluded, “I’m not even going to try.”
For teachers and parents, this is an all-too-familiar scenario. A task is set, it feels insurmountable, and, instead of embracing the challenge as an opportunity for learning and growth, our young scholars wave the white flag.
I can’t do it. It’s not possible. What’s the point in trying?
Paging Dr. Dweck
In her popular TED Talk, Carol Dweck, pioneer of mindset research, poses a powerful question: “How are we raising our children? Are we raising them for now instead of yet?”
To illustrate her meaning, consider a statement you’ve likely heard (or said yourself): “I’m not good at math.”
Presented this way, mathematical ability (or lack thereof) is as indisputable as eye color. But add one small word and the meaning shifts: “I’m not good at math—yet.”
Three letters and—poof!—a finished story becomes a cliffhanger; a verdict goes back into deliberations. Although Dweck would be quick to point out that yet is less magic word and more linguistic cue rooted in research on motivation and feedback.
For teachers interested in cultivating growth mindsets, 'yet' is a simple, effective feedback technique that can be used to reinforce the changeable nature of one’s ability.
In one of her early studies, Dweck and her team explored how different types of praise influenced students’ reactions to struggle. Fifth graders were asked to complete a simple set of problems, then randomly assigned to receive one of two responses: “You must be smart at this,” or, “You must have worked hard.”
Next, they were given a far more difficult problem set. Predictably, they performed poorly and were told as much by the research team. Then, something interesting happened. The students initially praised for hard work wanted to keep at the tougher problems, attributing their struggles to insufficient effort. But the students praised for their smarts? As Dweck described it, their failure felt “...tragic. Catastrophic. Their core intelligence had been tested and devastated.” These students largely showed no interest in further attempts at the hard problems, blaming their lackluster scores on lack of ability.
Lastly, the students completed a final problem set similar to the first they’d done well on. Here, the effort-praised students improved their scores, while the ability-praised students did worse.
Dweck concluded that ability-focused feedback had negative short-term implications on students’ motivation. Or, as she put it, “Instead of the power of yet, they were gripped by the tyranny of now.”
She went on to posit that repeated exposure to effort-focused feedback over time could help shape students’ core beliefs about their capacity to develop intelligence through hard work. For teachers interested in cultivating growth mindsets, yet is a simple, effective feedback technique that can be used in a variety of contexts to reinforce the changeable nature of one’s ability.
I’m not a good writer—yet.
I can’t draw—yet.
I’m not organized—yet.
With a single syllable, yet acknowledges where a student is right now while refusing to accept it’s where they must remain. Paired with the right resources and support, yet can create the ideal conditions for growth and change.
A Yet State of Mind
Back in my kitchen, I agreed with my daughter that recognizing every state is hard—especially those small ones in the Northeast—and two days isn’t much time. But her teacher clearly believed she could do it, and so did I.
She was unswayed: “Mom, it’s not happening. I cannot identify all 50 states.”
“That’s true,” I acknowledged. “You can’t identify them—yet.”
And thus began the journey.
The task didn’t change. The timeline didn’t change. The only thing that changed was her willingness to try—fueled by the power of 'yet.'
An app was downloaded. Her first effort yielded 12 correctly identified states in a whopping 115 attempts. I showed her how Michigan resembles a mitten and Louisiana a boot. She noted it was kicking Mississippi. How rude!
Her dad tried his hand and scored a dismal 21. Now we had a friendly competition! We joked that Colonel Sanders was perhaps inspired by Kentucky’s distinctive chicken-leg shape. We Googled why there’s a North Dakota and a South Dakota and not just a Dakota, and where the word “Wyoming” comes from. We invented the story of “George Uh,” who sits atop Florida in protest after being kicked out for wrestling alligators.
Two days later, she burst through the door again. This time, declaring victory: “50 out of 50!”
The task didn’t change. The timeline didn’t change. The only thing that changed was her willingness to try—fueled by the power of yet.
Next time a student enters your classroom carrying a story about their ability, adding yet can interrupt their conclusion and invite them to keep going. Yet as part of your feedback repertoire helps create a classroom culture where learning is expected to be incomplete, mistakes are normal, and effort is part of the process—not evidence of some fundamental inadequacy. Over time, the echo of your yets may even take root in your students’ inner voices, ready to remind them that where they are today does not limit where they can go.
