Before I begin, here’s a quick recap of 2024:

2024: good, overall. Baby. Interesting work. Started a blog. Started exercising and becoming stronger, probably for the first time in my life.

2024: some bad, too. I miss my home and family. It’s a terrible shame that my dad hasn’t had a chance to see his grandson, yet. Of anyone, he is the most deserving to know him. I played guitar on only three occasions throughout the year, probably the least I’ve played in any year since I started playing.

I had a unique personality as a teenager. Everything about me, from my long hair to my inflexible idealism and my unpopular political views, set me apart from others. When I was younger, fitting in was something I actively eschewed. But as I became a father and turned 30 in 2024, that part of me is finally starting to settle down.

Something that really caught my attention was an interview with Wayne Coyne of the band The Flaming Lips. In it, he talked about how his younger self was eager to stand out from the crowd. Major life events—including the death of his father—changed his perspective, and he started to want to “be normal.” Sometimes it takes something big like that to change a person’s outlook. The birth of my son is that catalyst for change in my life.

When you become a parent, you move out of the center of your own world—you begin to live for the sake of your children. I thought that this would happen, but not in the way it did. As my parental identity sinks in, my own behavior and character comes into clearer focus. A constant thought is about how I can become a better role model for my son. But what I didn’t expect was what being a good role model implied. Being a good role model means living well for yourself, something I haven’t always done.

Part of my journey as a new father was reading. I’ve always been strong on book smarts, so I thought, If I’m going to learn to be a better person, I should look to the advice of some of the greatest thinkers in world history. I started reading Nicomachean Ethics, the famous ethics work by Aristotle. I chose it because my father, a man who never reads, started reading. Philosophy, of all things. Never thought in a million years that day would come, but my own father’s gone through such tremendous growth even at his age. He’s really been an inspiration, and I only hope to be so for my own son.

So, I spent a lot of 2024 thinking about virtue and ethics in general. For entirely selfish reasons, at work, I assigned my students a project to analyze a social issue from the lens of two different philosophical frameworks. It was not easy, and I don’t think any group of students could have accomplished it. But it created a lot of insightful discussion and, after half a semester, produced a set of essays that showed some promising critical thinking.

Each student chose a different pair of frameworks, all from a variety of world traditions. One student pitted the ethics of care against existentialism. Another analyzed utilitarianism versus Taoism. Through their class discussions, I actually learned a lot about each of these. If only they knew who the real teachers were in the class!

One student’s essay was on Aristotelian virtue ethics. As we reflected on what the different virtues were all about, we came to discuss temperance, in the balance between self-indulgence and insensibility. We talked about how we are often motivated by the pursuit of pleasure or the avoidance of pain. For her, it was physical exercise that she loathed. I, on the other hand, have often avoided the discomfort of social interactions. It was helpful to reflect on the importance of moderation—and hopefully, at least as helpful for my student.

To Aristotle, however, a person’s own will is not enough to guarantee the development of virtue. For true success, we need the help of others. There certainly have been many good role models in my life, and several have helped me through personal challenges in 2024. My old friend Steve knows how to light a fire under my ass when I’m feeling weak or discouraged. Another friend of mine reminded me not to be so hard on myself, even if others are. They have done so much for me; it’s hard for me to repay their kindness.

Others throughout my life have helped me in ways that sometimes haven’t sunk in until years later. For example, my high school English teacher had the unmatched patience to put up with my constant teenage bullshit. I remember he once told me, “You know, you don’t always have to tell everyone your shortcomings.” I was needlessly hard on myself, afraid of living, really, and it took me years to understand why he said that. Mine was a failure—or dare I admit, an unwillingness—to recognize anything positive about myself. I wish I had listened sooner.

Another important influence came from the director of the symphonic winds band at my alma mater. He held all group members to an exacting standard. When someone didn’t quite reach high enough, he always asked a rhetorical question that stuck with me. Whatever the issue was, be it intonation, tone, or rhythm, he would say, “How come the players in such-and-such group can keep in tune? Remember, they’re not special.” I’m probably misquoting him slightly, but it left an impression.

They’re not special. There’s no magical obstacle between what you want to achieve and others who have done the same. It only takes hard work, and sometimes maybe a little luck. To be average is freeing. It frees you to become more. Much like how Wayne Coyne and his band became truely great by seeking normalcy. Much like how a Taoist sees more by doing less. So, in 2025, I will keep the gratitude for my friends, family, and teachers, past and present, at heart. Here’s to another great year!