The Impact Model

Do you need to know you’re making a difference in order to make one?

We all want to make a difference in this world. At least, I hope some do.

Do our part.

Help others.

Give back.

Volunteer.

Charity.

Philanthropy.

Kindness.

In kind.

Something to make you feel better.

It makes you feel better about yourself, no doubt about that. But how do you really know whether you’re actually making a difference?

How do you know if that packet of biscuit you offered the beggar filled his hungry stomach?

How do you know if the lives of those children you volunteered with over the summer are better now?

How do you know if the money you donated helped improve the lives of the earthquake victims?

How do I know if these two years in Teach for India will make even a dent in the lives of my children?

Do you need to know you’re making a difference in order to make one?

At the basic level, I suppose not. You can still continue making a difference. By the end of my first year as a teacher, I couldn’t honestly say that I saw a lot of growth in my students.

Maybe it was difficult to act as a fly on the wall observer.

Maybe it was my lack in self-confidence.

Maybe it was true.

Either way, I didn’t feel like I was making a difference – at least, not at the magnitude that I was aiming for. Still, I pushed forward, mixing blind faith with determination and hope. There were enough moments of frustration.

Of depression.

Of doubt.

Still, I pushed forward, repeating the mantra in my head, “I’m making a difference, I’m making a difference” in an attempt to convince myself.

I was waiting expectantly, anxiously, for a sign: something to prove the above. I’m a person of logic – I need proof. Without that, it’s all just hypothetical.

Theoretical.

In my head.

I needed something.

Something to keep me going.

Something to show me that yes, my time and effort here were meaningful.

Like Maslow’s 2^nd level of esteem in his hierarchy of needs, I needed something more.

And now, a few months into my second year of teaching the same group of students, I’m starting to see it.

Their growing academics.

Their increasing confidence.

Their shortening pants.

And those occasional light bulbs turning on, which motivate me to push them harder.

Because the truth is, if I saw no progress in them (as is still the case with some students), I would continue to push them hard. But at some point, I fear I might give up.

On hope.

On belief.

On them.

On myself.

And when and if that happens, the possibility of making a difference will become moot.

*****

It’s not necessary to know you’re making a difference in order to make one.

But it’s definitely helpful.