Phil Sena

We live in a world that offers us many choices. It can be very good to have at least a reasonable number of options, such as in the area of consumer goods where different products accommodate a wide variety of personal tastes. Not everyone wants the same car, so manufacturers let us choose among Camaros and Camrys, Priuses, Impalas and Volts, and many more. Some are quick to buy the latest iPhone, while others watch for the latest Android or Windows Phone release. Some want crunchy breakfast cereal; others want oatmeal.

Have you ever thought of yourself as being less intelligent than others? Did other kids at school call you “dumb”? If so, how did this make you feel about your ability to learn and be considered a good student?

I remember witnessing a baffling phenomenon when I was a teen in the mid-1970s. An enterprising California advertising man marketed and sold what he called “the perfect pet”—the Pet Rock. Packaged in a small cardboard carton perforated with breathing holes, an ordinary rock was nestled in straw. Each came with a “birth certificate” for the rock—and a training manual, The Care and Training of Your Pet Rock, containing instructions for teaching the rock to “stay” or “roll over” or “play dead.”

When Steve Jobs died in 2011 at age 56, he was the famous CEO of Apple Inc., one of the world’s most successful technology companies. Widely regarded as the visionary behind landmark Apple products such as the Macintosh, iPod, iPhone and iPad, Jobs’ passion for technology might not have been discovered were it not for two crucial influences in his youth.

In the early morning of December 4, 2012, a phone rang in the hospital ward of London’s King Edward VII hospital, where Jacintha Saldanha worked. Saldanha, a 46-year-old nurse and mother of two, answered because no receptionist was on duty.