At this year’s IECA conference, Dr. Belle Liang from Boston College shared a framework that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. She describes three mindsets that shape how young people approach their lives: performance, passion, and purpose.
You probably know the first one well. Performance is the mindset your parents grew up with. Grades, rankings, outcomes. Everything measured. Most of them felt the weight of that, and they didn’t want the same thing for you.
So the message shifted. “Find what you love.” “Follow your interest.” “Passion is the best teacher.” You’ve heard some version of this from every adult in your life. And on the surface, it sounds right.
But here’s what Dr. Liang’s research reveals: passion is fundamentally comfort-driven. You do something because it feels good, because it comes naturally, because you enjoy it. And the moment it stops being comfortable, you move on. Or you stay in the easy version of it, the version that doesn’t challenge you, and call that dedication.
Be honest with yourself for a second. Have you ever used “that’s not really my interest” as a reason to avoid something harder? Have you ever stuck with what you already know because stretching into unfamiliar territory felt like too much? Have you told yourself that slow, easy accumulation will eventually add up to something, when really you’re just avoiding the steep part of the climb?
This isn’t a character flaw. It’s what happens when “follow your passion” becomes the whole sentence instead of just the beginning.
Admissions offices are already seeing through it. At a mock admissions session at this year’s conference, Amherst’s admissions officer rejected an applicant whose profile was intensely focused on one area. The reason: a liberal arts college wants to see intellectual curiosity that reaches beyond a single lane. Law school applications don’t succeed by saying “I love law.” They succeed when a student can show why law school is the necessary next step: like an environmental science major who realized that policy, not research, is where the real bottleneck is, and chose to become the person who changes it. Medical school is years of difficulty that only make sense if something bigger than enjoyment is driving you through.
That something bigger is purpose.
Purpose means knowing what matters to you, being willing to struggle for it, and recognizing that it’s about more than just you. It’s not something you find one afternoon. It’s built over time through commitment and action.
And it doesn’t develop in isolation. Dr. Liang’s research identifies three relationships that young people need in order to build purpose: an anchor, someone who makes you feel safe and unconditionally accepted; a guide, someone who sets standards, pushes you, and is willing to have the uncomfortable conversations; and a bridge, someone who connects you to a world bigger than the one you already know.
You don’t need one person to be all three. But look around your life and ask: do these relationships exist? A teacher, a coach, a mentor, a counselor, a family member you trust? If they do, lean into them. If they don’t, that’s the gap worth filling, before you add another activity to your resume.
Passion tells you what you enjoy. Purpose tells you what you’ll fight for. The sooner you learn the difference, the less confused you’ll be when the comfortable version of your life stops being enough.