In praise of ‘naning’

“OUR potential is one thing. What we do with it is quite another.” Psychologist Angela Duckworth points this out in her book “Grit,” in which she argues that more than talent, it is grit, a combination of passion and longterm perseverance, which makes great achievements possible.

The talented may enjoy a head start in life, yes, but without sustained effort, all that potential can fizzle out. A person of modest talents will, with hard work, outdo someone who possesses plenty of talent but lacks dr i ve.

And yet, for most of us, talent is more attractive. We admire achievers who make their feats look natural and easy, and we scoff at those who try too hard. There’s a Cebuano term for it that was the kiss of social death when we were teenagers in the Eighties: “naning”, which was short for “naningkamot.” It wasn’t cool to be “naning.”

It has taken some time, but I now value more those who are “naning” because what they have accomplished demanded more of them. After more than 20 years as a newspaper editor, I can remember fewer than five colleagues who were naturally good writers. That is, they already knew how to get and write a story well when they joined the newsroom, thanks to a combination of talent, wide reading, good teaching, and, in some cases, family support (for instance, they grew up in a household where reading and writing were prized skills).

For others, the path to becoming a good writer or a good journalist proved much tougher. Some were not as fluent as the natural writers when they started. Some let their shyness keep them from asking questions, and some took every correction as a personal affront. Some were too timid or too comfortable to take (writing) risks. In time, however, some of those who were not naturally talented in the beginning began to do better than their more talented peers. These were the ones who kept on learning more about the subjects they had to write about, as well as the tricks storytellers use: this was how they found both depth and style. They stayed curious. They had grit.

In 2017, the Gallup organization reported in its State of the Global Workplace report that only 15 percent of adults who worked full-time were engaged at work. That is, they were “highly involved in and enthusiastic about their work and workplace.” Gallup’s report said that organizations would be wise to focus on “positive workplace relationships, frequent recognition, ongoing performance conversations, and opportunities for personal development.” In Southeast Asia, the report added, one strategy should be to make “selfdiscovery and strengths development” key goals in the curriculum.

I’ve been thinking about grit while wondering who among our current crop of interns has the talent and tenacity to practice journalism. (As well as the sense of adventure to join a profession in the throes of disruption and change.) Lately, this has also become a personal question, in what feels like a turning point in what one hopes will be a lifelong project of aligning passion and purpose.

“Before hard work comes play,” Duckworth advises. Persons with grit tend to be those whose life’s work deals with a subject they’re endlessly curious about and which they “intrinsically enjoy doing.”

But interest alone, no matter how enduring, doesn’t account for grit. After hundreds of conversations, Duckworth has pinpointed three other psychological assets that gritty individuals hold in common: practice, purpose, and hope. Is your interest something you can master, with “focused, full-hearted, challengeexceeding-skill practice”?

Does it contribute to the well-being of others? Is it something you can persevere at, in the face of great difficulty and doubt?

What a comfort it is to learn that it’s never too late to be “naning.” - Isolde D. Amante