(10/2006) - As a child coloring pictures with my grandfather, an artist, I distinctly remember being encouraged to color outside of the lines in my coloring book. This was a confusing direction for my young mind to accept. “Why would they put the lines there if you were not supposed to use them?” I wondered. As an adult, I remember my grandfather offering my nieces and nephews similar encouragement, with similar resistance. I think the blank area outside of the picture frustrated him, but to a child, coloring inside the lines meant that you had done a good job because you had followed the rules.

As I maneuver through the working world, catch phrases such as “think outside the box”—which encourages creativity and experimentation by moving beyond recognized norms and boundaries—have become cliched and widely accepted as a positive business practice. Perhaps I’m a corporate misfit and I should have heeded my grandfather’s advice after all, but I think he would still be proud of me. Because, although I understand the intention of outside-the-box thinking, I believe that all thinking takes place outside that nebulous box. You devise a solution, test it, take a new path, and try something else. Some solutions work, others do not; if luck is on your side, then consequences, both intended and unintended, are in your favor, and you move on to the next task. It’s not thinking at all tthat brings about an uninspired, unimaginative, inside-the-lines approach to problems.

When working through such internal debates, I’m frequently reminded of my time at Emma Willard. In the corporate environment, terms like "thinking outside the box” annoy me because I don’t feel that I need to be reminded to think in order to come up with solutions. Thanks to my Emma Willard education, I learned this process better than most. Emma girls never need to be reminded to think. It is part of our fabric. We automatically think outside of the box without giving it much conscious thought.

On the personal side, I wonder if the concept of this box precludes me from trying new things. Of course I understand that forethought and planning are important, but how much is necessary and when is it really required? Does all that white space outside the lines, all of that unknown in the world, really require a plan? Where exactly is this elusive box and how far outside of it can we go? If we go this far outside, will it still be acceptable? What about this far?

Maybe what my grandfather wanted me to do was to just pick a crayon and go. Isn’t that what Emma Willard encouraged me to do after all; to have the self-confidence to know that I can put thought into things when I need to, to step back, analyze, and plan when I need to, but also to know when I can forgo the plan and just trust myself to take a leap? I feel this is so.