Name Your Monsters

I have a daughter who is dipping her toes into the waters of college admission -- a land that is exciting and full of promise, but also frightening and full of peril. We're trying to tread lightly -- but every once and awhile, the ground cracks open and we stand at the edge of a yawning abyss. This happened at the dinner table last night (no burned chicken, this time.) In the course of doing some work that had no relation to college admissions, I came across a question from a Kenyon College application. "Along the edge of ancient maps, it used to say, `Here there be monsters.' What does it say at the edge of your map, and why does it say that?"

My family contemplated the question and had a great time giving facetious answers -- but then the 16-year-old stopped, and dead-serious, said, "But wait. What WOULD it say on the edge of my map? What does my map even LOOK like?" We had no answers for that, of course. That's the job of a 16-year-old: to craft a map, to chart a course, to set sail, and to name your monsters.

It struck me that this is the job of anyone trying to create anything.