When I was in school, I was one of the lucky ones. I didn’t have to work particularly hard or spend hours studying any one subject. I was able to retain what I learned in the classroom, and extra help was rarely required. I was an A-/B+ student, participated in school sports, and worked a weekend job.
Then I went to college. For the most part, my good fortune continued—until I encountered a class called Probabilities and Statistics, a required course for my business major.
During our academic years, most of us probably excelled in some areas while struggling in others. For me, English, languages, and art came naturally. Math and science were another story. But during one particular struggle, I discovered a simple way to improve my odds by applying a couple of common-sense strategies out of necessity.
I quickly realized that my professor was moving through the material at a pace that made it difficult for me to keep up. If I had any hope of passing, I needed to change my approach.
So, first, I moved my seat.
For so many of us, standing out in the classroom was never the goal. I was one of those kids who found a nondescript seat somewhere in the middle or back of the classroom. I participated when called upon, but not much more.
I quickly learned that strategy wasn’t helping me. So, I moved to the front row, directly in front of the professor, where I had no choice but to pay attention. It was uncomfortable at first. But I had to pass the class. That simple change turned out to be a game changer. By physically moving myself to a place where I couldn’t drift, get distracted, or hide, I forced myself to improve my focus.
My note-taking habits were average at best. Listening and taking decent notes had always been enough to earn pretty good grades—until now. In this class, I found myself copying every note and diagram from the blackboard and frantically writing down the professor’s lecture practically word for word. Was it stressful? Absolutely. But even then, I knew it was a better choice than getting lost during the lecture and never being able to catch up. So, I stayed the course. And I ended up with a B- for my final grade. To me, that was a huge win!
For years, I never had a good answer for why I struggled in some subjects but not others. Eventually, I chalked it up to being “right-brained”—artistic and creative—as opposed to “left-brained,” or analytical. That explanation was popular at the time, and it seemed to make sense. But science has since debunked the idea that people are simply “right-brained” or “left-brained.” So once again, the question remains:
Years later, with search engines and AI at our fingertips, the explanations seem much simpler.
Different subjects rely on different cognitive skills. Math, for example, relies heavily on pattern recognition and working with abstract relationships, while literature may rely more heavily on verbal reasoning, interpretation, and abstract thinking.
Sometimes the problem isn't ability. We may simply be missing foundational concepts. When those gaps accumulate, later material becomes increasingly difficult to understand.
We naturally pay more attention and put forth more effort when a subject interests us. Personal engagement and curiosity can have a significant impact on how well we absorb and retain information.
Passive methods such as highlighting or repeatedly rereading material aren't always effective, particularly with complex subjects. Active strategies—such as problem-solving, practicing concepts, and even handwriting notes—can produce better engagement and retention.
An engaging teacher who presents material in a way that connects with the student can make a difficult subject suddenly click. A rigid or mismatched teaching style can make the same subject feel nearly impossible.
These explanations make a lot of sense to me because, looking back, they fit my experience. I didn’t understand how the concepts being taught in statistics applied to my everyday life. All I knew was that handwriting thorough notes and forcing myself to pay close attention seemed like good strategies to help me get through the classes.
Was I engaged? Yes, temporarily, and enough to pass the exams.
Did I retain the knowledge? Absolutely not.
And that distinction matters.
Because when we move from the classroom into the workplace, we have an opportunity to do something very different. Rather than constantly forcing people to compensate for areas that don't come naturally to them, we can look for opportunities to leverage their natural talents. That starts with intentionally putting the right people in the right seats.
In a law firm, for example, we should be looking for particular skills and natural talents and matching them to roles where those abilities can shine. After all, it’s obvious that few library-loving research lawyers are also highly skilled trial lawyers. But it may be less obvious that not every intake specialist or case manager is naturally a skilled communicator with clients. And when we find someone who is? It’s obvious to everyone.
That person seems as if they were born for the job.
That is the person we want to recognize, develop, and retain. The goal isn't to eliminate struggle altogether. Sometimes we need to stretch ourselves, learn skills that don't come naturally, and do things simply because they need to be done—just as I did with statistics. But there is a difference between developing a skill and spending our careers fighting against our natural strengths.
The lesson I took from that statistics class wasn't really about statistics at all. Sometimes a small environmental change (like moving from the back row to the front) can help us perform better. And in the workplace, the equivalent may be finding the right role, the right responsibilities, or the right seat.
When we pay attention to what people naturally do well, we give people a better opportunity to excel, contribute, and feel like they belong exactly where they are. When we encounter someone who is in the right role, we recognize it immediately. That person seems as if they were born for the job.
Those moments should get our attention.
Natural talent is a powerful asset that leaders should know how to recognize and deploy.
Too often, we treat performance gaps as individual shortcomings when they may actually be signals of a poor fit between a person and the role. Someone who struggles in one position may thrive in another. Someone who requires significant energy to perform one set of responsibilities may demonstrate remarkable effectiveness when given a different challenge.
For leaders, this creates an opportunity to look beyond job descriptions and organizational charts.
We should be asking:
The answers can lead to better delegation, stronger teams, greater engagement, and ultimately better service to clients.
My experience with statistics taught me that hard work can get us through something that doesn’t come naturally. But leadership offers us a more strategic choice. We don’t have to build organizations where everyone is constantly sitting in the front row, desperately taking notes just to keep up. We can build organizations where people are positioned to succeed.
