Hidden Potential

How far you can travel matters more than where you begin. In Hidden Potential, Adam Grant argues that potential should be measured by distance traveled—how much someone grows with opportunity, motivation, and support—rather than snapshots of early ability. Across stories of chess prodigies and late bloomers, educators, entrepreneurs, and rescuers, Grant shows that hidden potential is not about innate gifts but about learnable character skills, supportive systems, and environments that transform setbacks into springboards.

Grant opens with Maurice Ashley’s Harlem chess team, the Raging Rooks. They tied for first in a national championship not because they began with elite training but because Ashley created scaffolds—temporary supports that built discipline, teamwork, and curiosity. That story reframes the book’s central claim: when given encouragement and tools, novices can outgrow prodigies. The goal, Grant insists, is not to reward early excellence but to cultivate continuous improvement.

The shift from talent to teachability

Traditional approaches—admissions tests, hiring resumes, and IQ-focused evaluations—privilege visible starting points. Grant synthesizes psychological, educational, and economic research to show that these indicators mispredict success. Raj Chetty’s longitudinal studies reveal that teachers who shape character—proactivity, prosocial behavior, and persistence—raise students’ adult earnings far more than those who focus only on academics. Guggenheim data show that most award-winning creators were not childhood stars but consistent improvers. Together, these findings redefine potential as cumulative improvement rather than raw birthright.

Character skills and learnable resilience

The foundation of progress is not personality; it’s character skill—habits of initiative, discipline, determination, and collaboration. Grant demonstrates that these can be trained. In West Africa, entrepreneurs taught persistence and initiative increased business profits by nearly 30%, outperforming technical training threefold. Maurice Ashley’s method and Finnish schools’ equity-first pedagogy demonstrate how scaffolding and play shape these abilities from kindergarten to career. Character training replaces the myth of fixed aptitude with the practice of flexible learning.

Learning through discomfort and imperfection

Grant’s human development model relies on adaptive discomfort: when you step into awkward, uncertain space—like comedians bombing or polyglots speaking unready—you accelerate expertise. He pairs this with imperfectionist discipline: tolerating flaws that don’t block progress. The secret is to scaffold risk with social and emotional supports. Twyla Tharp’s creative iteration and Sara Maria Hasbun’s language immersion prove that embracing discomfort transforms fear into growth. (Note: this echoes Carol Dweck’s growth mindset, but Grant expands it with systemic and social dimensions.)

Opportunity and the systems that enable it

Growth isn’t only personal—it’s structural. Systems determine how many people get scaffolding. Chetty’s and Finland’s models show how institutional design—teacher autonomy, looping, early support—can democratize opportunity. Grant urges leaders to design opportunity systems where access to mentors and learning environments isn’t luck-dependent. You bring out potential not by finding geniuses but by building networks that make excellence replicable.

Collective growth and social scaffolds

Hidden potential scales when people collaborate. The Golden Thirteen, a group of Black Navy officers in WWII, turned bootstraps into a collective lift—each man tutoring, coaching, and holding others accountable. That social scaffolding multiplied learning speed. In organizations, team intelligence emerges from listening, inclusion, and sensitivity—the prosocial glue that outperforms IQ averages. Collective intelligence depends not on geniuses but on groups that make one another smarter.

A new map of success

Grant’s map of human growth flows through five steps: 1) redefine potential as distance traveled; 2) cultivate character skills; 3) embrace discomfort and imperfection; 4) rely on scaffolds and play; 5) build collective systems that amplify opportunity. Hidden potential isn’t hidden because people lack it—it’s hidden because we mismeasure it. When you stop judging snapshots and start tracking journeys, you reveal people’s capacity to travel farther than talent predicted.

Core insight

Potential is not a fixed quality—it’s the distance someone can travel when systems, character skills, and social scaffolds align to support growth over time.

Adam Grant’s central thesis begins here: potential shouldn’t be judged on where someone starts, but by how far they move. The story of Harlem’s Raging Rooks exemplifies this. Their coach, Maurice Ashley, didn’t select the strongest players—he chose those most willing to learn. By reframing chess as a tool for curiosity and discipline, Ashley helped these underdogs tie with elite schools that trained prodigies for years.

From snapshots to journeys

Judging ability from day one creates selection bias. Chetty’s research proved that early teachers who build character—initiative, empathy, delay of gratification—affect lifetime earnings more than those who focus solely on academics. Grant interprets this as evidence of distance potential: the capacity people reveal when nurtured, not just measured. Most high achievers in the Guggenheim study rose gradually, showing that success is cumulative learning, not early brilliance.

Finding teachability over talent

In life and work, you can spot hidden potential by seeking teachability—people who ask questions, absorb feedback, and persist through difficulty. Maurice Ashley taught through creativity and community, scaffolding learning so novices could thrive. (Parenthetical note: this concept resembles Angela Duckworth’s grit, but Grant expands grit into a system of supports.)

Takeaway

Look for trajectory, not timestamps: what matters most is how far someone can go when given opportunity and challenge.

What if we treated discipline and determination as trainable? Grant insists that character—proactivity, discipline, perseverance, and prosocial conduct—is not innate but learnable. West African entrepreneurs who received training in initiative and persistence increased profits dramatically compared to those with cognitive business lessons alone. Character skills aren’t moral ornaments; they’re performance engines.

Breaking character down

Character is your ability to enact principles under pressure. Discipline manages attention; determination sustains effort; proactivity drives self-starting behaviors; prosocial actions create cooperation. Together these form a growth architecture for sustained success. Chetty’s data and Ashley’s coaching prove that teachers and mentors who mold these behaviors shift long-run trajectories.

How to cultivate it

Practice matters more than preaching. Scaffold learning with social interaction and explicit behavior exercises—team play, proactive projects, accountability systems. Character remains “plastic” well into adulthood when sustained feedback keeps self-regulation alive. (Note: this framework converges with Carol Dweck’s growth mindset and James Heckman’s socio-emotional skill research.)

Core insight

Teaching actions—initiative, persistence, cooperation—produces economic and psychological gains larger than those of pure knowledge transfer.

Learning happens outside your comfort zone. Grant traces how comedians, polyglots, and athletes accelerate mastery by embracing discomfort and treating mistakes as metrics of progress. Sara Maria Hasbun and Benny Lewis practice foreign languages badly and publicly from day one. Steve Martin switched from performing to writing despite fear. Discomfort becomes proof you’re improving.

Making discomfort productive

Grant outlines two techniques: systematic desensitization (gradual exposure) and flooding (intense exposure under supervision). Pilots deliberately stall planes to rehearse recovery; learners should similarly expose themselves to awkward challenges. Treat mistakes as practice reps. Create psychological safety within failure.

Imperfectionism as freedom

Perfectionists stall because they fear flaws. The solution is wabi-sabi discipline—accepting imperfections that don’t block purpose. Twyla Tharp’s imperfect show and Tadao Ando’s concrete seams showcase how embracing flaws unlocks creativity. Instead of “best possible,” aim for “minimum lovable.” Compare current progress to your past self, not an ideal future version.

Rule

Discomfort and imperfection aren’t enemies of growth—they’re fuel. Choose the right flaws and step into awkward learning to travel farther.

Practice should feel purposeful, not punishing. Deliberate play blends structure and joy so learning becomes contagious. Evelyn Glennie turns drills into improvisations; Steph Curry’s trainer converts workouts into competitive games. This approach reduces burnout and multiplies retention. Play makes repetition sustainable.

Scaffolds as temporary supports

Maurice Ashley and Finnish schools use scaffolding—structured routines, mentoring loops, peer help—that learners can later remove. Like training wheels, scaffolds accelerate progress then vanish naturally. They transform difficult practice into discoverable mastery.

Designing play systems

Mix varied skill sets, use short bursts with micro-breaks, and let improvement compete with your past self. Combine deliberate play with imperfectionism: create games where mistakes are expected and curiosity drives iteration. Such systems energize teams for long-term development.

Practical insight

People learn faster and stay motivated when practice includes variation, fun, and space for reflection.

Groups outperform individuals when connected by trust and reciprocity. Grant contrasts the myth of lone geniuses with research on collective intelligence: teams with balanced participation and social sensitivity solve diverse problems better than teams of stars. Listening, equal airtime, and humility amplify creativity.

Bootstraps become social

The Golden Thirteen prove it. They taught and coached each other nightly during WWII, achieving record exam scores. The tutor effect (teaching reinforces learning) and coach effect (motivating others boosts your own resolve) make bootstrapping collaborative rather than solo. Emotional accountability converts personal effort into group ascent.

Leading prosocially

Richard Hackman and Anita Woolley’s research shows prosocial glue beats IQ averages. Narcissists degrade team assists; good listeners raise output. André Sougarret proved this during Chile’s mine rescue—he elevated quiet voices and practiced receptive leadership, enabling lateral intelligence instead of ego hierarchy.

Lesson

Teams thrive when members make one another smarter by sharing, teaching, and listening. Hidden potential is a group achievement.

Talent needs opportunity to bloom. Grant demonstrates through Chetty’s data and Finland’s success that systemic design determines how far people travel. Kids exposed to mentors and role models innovate more; teachers with autonomy and empathy cultivate equity. Opportunity systems replace luck with accessibility.

Designing equitable scaffolds

Finland built structures—looping teachers, early interventions, and play-based curricula—that reduce achievement gaps. Raj Chetty showed that even geographic relocation raises future innovation rates. The lesson for leaders: institutions should actively widen mentorship channels and scaffold late bloomers rather than spotlight prodigies.

Lattice over ladder

W.L. Gore’s lattice organization and Chile’s rescue networks show how lateral sponsorship beats rigid hierarchies. Ideas survive when one no doesn’t kill them. Dave Myers’ guitar-string innovation thrived because Gore let him seek multiple sponsors. Lattice frameworks democratize idea advancement—vital for revealing hidden potential.

System principle

Replace ladders of permission with lattices of collaboration. The more routes to sponsorship, the more ideas and people can grow.

Gatekeeping structures—college admissions, corporate hiring—often mistake pedigree for potential. Grant introduces two context tools: degree of difficulty (how steep the climb was) and grade point trajectory (how much improvement occurred). José Hernández’s NASA rejections reveal this bias: evaluators missed his steep climb from migrant farmworker to engineer. Only live assessments later revealed his actual ability.

Evaluating the climb

Organizations that ignore adversity penalize resilience. Chetty’s and Bulman’s findings reinforce that late improvement predicts success better than early excellence. Sequential data—tracking rises, dips, and rebounds—reveals learning agility. Adding contextual metrics turns selection into discovery.

Redesigning interviews

Gil Winch’s Call Yachol revolutionized interviews to showcase hidden potential. Candidates complete passion forms, perform live tasks, and receive do-overs to show adaptability. By creating psychologically safe environments, Winch transformed underestimated applicants into top performers. Work samples test real skill—not storytelling flair.

Practical insight

Measure progress and context, not polish. Look for upward lines and real task performance to surface hidden capability.

Progress isn’t linear—it often requires retreat. Grant uses R. A. Dickey’s knuckleball story to illustrate this: breakthroughs demand backing up, experimenting, and accepting temporary decline. Gray and Lindstedt’s typist study and Dickey’s pitching regressions confirm that mastery often dips before it rises.

The power of detours

Detours—hobbies, sabbaticals, or mentoring intervals—restore creativity and energy. Dickey’s Kilimanjaro climb gave him confidence to finish his transformation. Grant urges using small experiments and short feedback loops to find direction rather than expecting maps from experts.

Triangulating mentorship

Experts often suffer the curse of knowledge; you need multiple mentors for a balanced compass. Collect minor guidance signals and iterate. Failure isn’t regression but refinement; temporary decline is fuel for adaptive skill.

Guiding principle

Stepping back is strategic, not defeat. Regression can be the route to reinvention.