Sometimes the best lessons in life happen when you step away from your desk and see the world through someone else’s eyes. Especially when those eyes belong to a five-year-old or an eleven-year-old.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve had the opportunity to do something that doesn’t typically appear on my calendar: attend two school field trips with my kids.
The first was with my five-year-old son to a pumpkin patch. Pumpkins, excited kids, energy, and the kind of organized chaos that you’ll find this side of Pre-K.
The second was a three-day trip with my eleven-year-old daughter to a 4-H camp on Jekyll Island, Georgia. We dissected sharks, explored marshes, studied ecosystems, and learned about the incredible relationships between the plants, animals, and environments that make coastal Georgia so unique.
Two very different experiences. Two very different age groups.
And surprisingly, quite a few lessons that apply well beyond childhood.
Curiosity Doesn’t Have an Age Limit
Watching a group of five-year-olds explore a pumpkin patch is fascinating.
Everything is an adventure. Everything deserves attention. And almost everything comes with questions.
They don’t need a carefully constructed presentation or a detailed agenda to get excited about learning. They just need something interesting in front of them and the freedom to explore it.
Fast-forward six years to a group of eleven-year-olds standing around a dissected shark.
The questions are different. They’re more complex, more analytical, and often followed by more questions.
Instead of simply observing the world, they’re beginning to understand why it works the way it does.
What struck me wasn’t how different the two groups were.
It was how much they had in common.
Both were learning by doing. Both were discovering things they couldn’t fully appreciate from a classroom. And both were experiencing the excitement that comes from seeing something for themselves.
Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we tend to trade curiosity for certainty.
We become comfortable with what we know. We develop expertise. We build processes. We learn how things are supposed to work.
And sometimes, without realizing it, we stop asking why.
In technology and business, that’s a dangerous place to be.
Some of the most interesting ideas I’ve encountered throughout my career started with someone asking a question that seemed almost too simple.
Why do we do it this way?
What if we tried something different?
What are we missing?
Five-year-olds ask questions without worrying about how they’ll be perceived.
Maybe we could all benefit from doing a little more of that.
A Shark, “The Marsh”, and a Lesson in Systems Thinking
One of the most memorable parts of our Jekyll Island experience was learning about ecosystems.
Walking through the marsh, we explored how plants, animals, water, soil, and countless other elements interact to create a functioning environment (and we also learnt where mom gets her facial mud from).
We then dissected sharks, getting an up-close look at how these animals are built and how their anatomy supports their survival.
What makes these experiences interesting isn’t simply the science.
It’s the realization that nothing exists entirely on its own.
A marsh isn’t just a collection of plants growing in muddy water. It’s an interconnected system where each component contributes to something much larger.
Change one part of that system, and the effects can extend far beyond what you initially expected.
The same is true in business.
We build organizations, technologies, processes, and teams that are deeply interconnected. Yet we often approach problems as though they exist in isolation.
A technology decision impacts operations.
An operational decision impacts people.
A change in one department can create consequences across an entire organization.
And sometimes the smallest component of a system has a much larger impact than anyone anticipated.
Working in technology and innovation, I spend a lot of time thinking about how different systems connect, communicate, and work together.
Standing knee deep in water in the marsh with a group of eleven-year-olds was an unexpected reminder that nature figured out interconnected systems long before we started drawing architecture diagrams.
The challenge isn’t simply understanding the individual pieces. It’s understanding how those pieces influence one another.
That’s true whether you’re studying a coastal ecosystem or designing the next generation of technology.
Nothing Beats Being In The Moment
There’s another lesson that both trips reinforced.
You can teach someone about a pumpkin patch.
You can show them pictures of a shark.
You can explain how a marsh functions with diagrams, videos, and textbooks (I will say it’s hard to describe the feeling of being up to your knees at high tide though).
But none of those things quite compares to actually being there.
Standing in the marsh, feeling the environment around you, and seeing the organisms that live there creates a different kind of understanding.
Dissecting a shark transforms an abstract science lesson into something tangible.
And for a five-year-old, experiencing a pumpkin patch firsthand is far more memorable than simply hearing someone describe one.
This is something I’ve believed throughout my professional career as well.
People don’t always remember what you tell them. They remember what you help them experience. They appreciate when you show up
Whether I’m working in a 911 center, demonstrating technology, or collaborating with teams, I’ve found that showing someone what’s possible is far more powerful than simply explaining it.
There’s a reason hands-on demonstrations, real-world examples, and immersive experiences can be so effective.
They make ideas real.
They turn concepts into understanding.
And perhaps most importantly, they create connections that last long after the experience is over.
Growth Looks Different at Every Stage
One of the most interesting parts of attending these two trips so close together was seeing the difference six years can make.
At five, my son is still discovering the world with a sense of wonder that makes even ordinary experiences exciting.
At eleven, my daughter is developing a deeper understanding of that same world. She’s asking more thoughtful questions, making connections, and beginning to form her own perspectives.
It’s a reminder that growth isn’t a single event.
It’s a process.
And each stage builds on the one before it.
The same principle applies when developing people and building teams.
We can’t expect someone who’s just beginning their journey to have the same perspective as someone who’s been doing something for years.
We also shouldn’t expect people to grow simply because we’ve given them information.
Growth requires opportunities.
Opportunities to explore, to make mistakes, to ask questions, and to discover things independently.
Great leaders don’t just provide answers.
Leaders create environments where people can develop the confidence and curiosity to find answers themselves.
Sometimes that means stepping back and letting someone figure things out.
Sometimes it means giving them an experience they wouldn’t otherwise have.
And sometimes it means recognizing that learning doesn’t always happen in a straight line.
The Most Important Lesson Had Nothing to Do With Business
It’s easy to find professional lessons in everyday experiences.
I do it all the time.
But if I’m being completely open, the most meaningful part of these two weeks had nothing to do with leadership, innovation, or technology.
It was simply getting to be there.
My son is five. My daughter is eleven.
They’re at two completely different stages of life, and both are changing faster than I’d like to admit.
There will come a time when my son won’t be quite as excited about a trip to the pumpkin patch.
There will come a time when my daughter won’t have a school field trip that I can tag along on.
And eventually, their adventures will become their own.
That’s how growing up works.
As parents, we spend so much time preparing our kids for what’s next that it’s easy to overlook the importance of experiencing what’s happening right now.
The meetings will continue.
The emails will keep arriving.
The projects, deadlines, and responsibilities aren’t going anywhere.
But these particular moments won’t come around again.
I don’t know whether my son will remember every detail of his pumpkin patch adventure.
I don’t know whether my daughter will remember everything we learned about sharks and the marsh.
But I hope they’ll remember the experiences.
And maybe, somewhere down the road, they’ll remember that Dad was there experiencing it with them.
Never Stop Being Curious
I came away from these two weeks with a renewed appreciation for something that sounds simple but is surprisingly easy to lose.
Curiosity.
The willingness to explore something unfamiliar.
The confidence to ask questions.
The ability to recognize that no matter how much we know, there’s always something else worth learning.
At five, curiosity comes naturally.
At eleven, it begins to develop into deeper understanding.
As adults, we have to make a conscious effort to protect it.
And as leaders, parents, and professionals, we have an opportunity to encourage it in others.
So here’s my takeaway from two field trips, a pumpkin patch, a shark dissection, and a walk through a the marsh:
Stay curious enough to ask the questions. Stay humble enough to learn the answers. And stay present enough to enjoy the experiences along the way.
Because sometimes the best professional development doesn’t happen at a conference, in a meeting, or behind a computer screen.
Sometimes it happens while chasing a five-year-old through a pumpkin patch.
And sometimes it happens standing in a marsh with your eleven-year-old, discovering that the world is far more connected than you ever imagined.