It Means Nothing Until It Costs You Something
It was probably a passing comment that came across as ambitious and exciting, so I did not put much thought into it.
But then I kept hearing it. From friends. From family. From fellow educators and business owners in the same industry.
Rebrand your programmes, they’d said, to focus on science, technology, engineering, and mathematics—core academics most parents in this part of the world want their kids to perfect—because, apparently… that’s “where the money is.”
There’s a saying in business: give the customers what they want, and they’ll keep coming back. When you focus your resources on delivering that product or service or programme they need, you lay the groundwork for long-term loyalty and profits. A friend of mine who built a pretty successful business selling children’s toys often said this—do not reinvent the wheel. If a solution already works, your only job is to act on it and deliver consistently. It’s that simple.
Put simply: if you wanna succeed in business—if you wanna earn big bucks—stop being a smarty-pants and do what everyone else is doing.
The only problem? I don’t want to give customers what they want, and I certainly want to reinvent the wheel.
I’m not exactly opposed to what mainstream education businesses are doing. In fact, kids can learn so much about life when they focus on exam prep—traits like hard work and grit and determination that can go a long way. I’m also not against making money. A business is a business. It must grow. In my experience, having more money often opens up opportunities and networks that can bring you closer to your objectives. It pays the bills and supports the lifestyle aspirations of your family.
And with a bigger pay cheque, could I afford a bigger home, a luxurious vacation, or a more expensive bag?
Likely, yes.
But whenever someone tells me how “lucrative” the children’s industry is—how profitable educational services and products for kids can be—I wonder if they realise that Gosh! Kids operates around the creative arts niche, which is perhaps one of the least lucrative of all. There are certainly far easier and more profitable ways to make money—as those around me have suggested and business reports have proven—than running photography, art, and overseas creative-culture experiences for families. But I believe in what I do. The values and principles that make up my brand are what I hold close to my heart and desire to see more in the world. I am personally convicted not just as an educator, but more so a parent, to do this for my kids.
Am I anywhere near meeting my financial and business objectives? Not exactly. But I think I’m heading in the right direction, and I’m definitely enjoying most of my work. More money is certainly nice to have, but I think the journey is more satisfying when you get paid a little less for doing something you love even more.
I’m well aware there’s a kind of privilege to be in such a position, so I try not to project my beliefs onto others with different circumstances. Yet, while we are free to decide what we want out of life, I think it speaks volumes about who we are and what we stand for when we remove money from the equation.
Ever heard of Bill Watterson? He’s the guy behind the comic strip Calvin & Hobbes. In the 80s, before it was even a thing, Watterson held a job at a local advertising agency designing grocery ads. During lunch breaks, he would draw comic strips and submit them to newspaper agencies. After five years of rejection, he finally landed a publishing deal that paid him to draw Calvin & Hobbes all day.
Between 1985 and 1995, Watterson drew a total of 3,160 strips that appeared in more than 2,000 newspapers, and sold over 50 million books. As his brand rose to prominence, merchandise deals poured in—offers to produce stuffed animals, calendars, backpacks, pyjamas and lunchboxes. Even George Lucas and Steven Spielberg reached out to discuss prospects for an animated film. It was estimated that the combined intellectual property, if realised, would be at least $400 million. $400 million! But Watterson rejected it all, remaining firm in his belief that the artistic and creative integrity of Calvin & Hobbes was deeply rooted in the traditional print medium. He feared animation or voice acting would destroy the creative ambiguity of his work, because there’s a difference “between reading a novel and seeing the movie version… the characters are no longer yours—they’re someone else’s interpretation.” Licensing it would cheapen the work—characters would become products first, rather than vehicles for thought, humour, emotion, and all facets of creative endeavour.
On December 31, 1995, Watterson drew his final strip.
It’s a rare show of moral courage and integrity for Watterson to reject life-changing fame and fortune (he’d probably found limited value in them), and he must have felt justified that his work—honest, creative, non-AI-generated work—was finally receiving the recognition it deserved. At the same time, I believe you gain something more valuable when you’re not motivated solely by profit: Clarity about why you started in the first place.
As someone who’s profit-driven, it makes no sense to turn down clean, easy money. But it certainly made sense to Watterson. When he looked back at those early years—when every comic he drew was rejected—it became clear that, despite zero evidence of a future in comics, no amount of money could ever trump the why he was doing it: that he loved every word he wrote and every stroke he penned. “To endure five years of rejection,” Watterson would later on reflect, “requires either a faith in oneself that borders on delusion, or a love of the work….This turned out to be an important realisation when my break finally came.”
One of the privileges of being an educator is getting to interact with both children and their parents. Through my experiences, it has become pretty evident to me that many of our children are being robbed of the ability to think, to focus and to maintain meaningful connections with others, largely because of a pervasive techno-culture engineered by a certain billion-dollar conglomerate. Screens have diluted our desire to explore the world as it is. Dinner table conversations have been hijacked by the endless checking of phones. From the time we wake up till the time we sleep, we’re trapped in a cycle of dopamine-inducing habits. The craziest thing is we expect kids to regulate themselves when parents don’t realise they are caught in the same rut too!
That’s a big part of why we started Gosh! Kids Go!—as a response to something deeper.
Our overseas creative-culture camps are a space for families to express themselves creatively, to imagine and observe, to slow down, to reconnect with nature and what matters most. Interestingly, after conducting numerous camps across various locations, we’ve found that many parents struggle to connect with their children. And it’s not because they don’t want to, but often because they don’t know how, and also because they’re distracted by work, by personal problems, by other more pressing and urgent matters of modern life. Living in a fast-paced society has taught me it can be our greatest strength when we want to get things done efficiently… yet also our greatest weakness when we miss the tiny windows of moments in the daily hustle of life.
I don’t just want to do this for our families, but for my own, too. I want my career to reflect the values I stand for, not just in the professional setting, but also in the sphere of my home. And I recognise this is a privilege I can choose for myself.
The more I do this, the more I read, the more I talk and work with people who have made an impact in society, the more I realise how much having a genuine love for what you do matters more than we think.
Steve Jobs talked about this. The first iPod launch revolutionised the personal music player industry. In an attempt to get a slice of the market, Microsoft came up with the Zune. But within two years of its release, the Zune’s market share was less than 5%. Three years later, it was discontinued. “The older I get, “ Jobs said about Zune’s terrible performance, “the more I see how much motivations matter. The Zune was crappy because the people at Microsoft don’t really love music or art the way we do.” Apple “won” because, Jobs explained, they personally loved music. He personally loved music. “We made the iPod for ourselves, and when you’re doing something for yourself, or your best friend or family, you’re not going to cheese out. If you don’t love something, you’re not going to go the extra mile, work the extra weekend, challenge the status quo as much.”
It’s one thing to believe when belief costs nothing. But when the incentives shift—when money calls—will you still hold your ground?
Earlier in his life, the rapper Notorious B.I.G wanted to become a commercial artist. “They [teachers] was always like,” he explained, “Take the talent that you have and think of something that you can do in the future with it.” He believed he could make a living by drawing and designing billboards. But then he got introduced to selling drugs. “Haha, now I’m thinking, commercial art?! Haha. I’m out here for twenty minutes and I can make some real, real money, man.”
You know Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán? The violent and murderous drug kingpin responsible for the deaths of over 34,000 people and at one point the most powerful drug trafficker in the world? Villagers in rural Mexico would do anything to support and protect him. And it’s not because he demands them to. “You’re talking about people who have almost no income,” one villager explained, “It was not uncommon for El Chapo to stop and talk to someone and say, ‘What’s going on in your life?’ And the person would say, ‘Oh, my daughter is getting married.’ Chapo would say, ‘I’ll take care of it.’ He’d get a big place, provide the band, provide the booze and food, and the whole town is invited. The father of the bride says, ‘Chapo made this possible.’”
It’s crazy to think how far we’re willing to compromise our morals for a little benefit. We say we believe in something, but belief only proves itself when it’s asked to choose between comfort and conviction.
I know the struggle. You have your values…but you also have mouths to feed. Or dreams to fulfil. Or a certain image to uphold.
Let me ask you the same question I asked Gladys recently: will you still do what you’re doing if you’re not paid?
Not that easy to answer, isn’t it?
Two things stick out here.
This is what money can do to you. This is what money cannot do to you.
It can make you walk away from the things you once stood for. It cannot take away what it never gave you in the first place.
In my industry, there’s some talk going around about the “commodification of childhood.” Certain brands promise certain outcomes, consciously (or unconsciously) preying on parental anxiety and FOMO. Marketing has evolved to the point where it can manipulate how we feel. Knowing this, I often reflect on how we communicate our values and programmes, and I’d try my best not to steer ourselves in that direction or even give that sort of impression. Yet no one is ever safe from public perception. You will be accused of brainwashing or upselling or whatever. Haters and trolls will attempt to hurt your reputation even when they’ve never bought a single product from you. Social media will always invite comments laden with falsehood and speculation. They’re simply out of your control. The only thing to do, as it seems, is to be who you say you are.
But we know that ain’t easy.
If we’re constantly bothered about the profit margin, perhaps we should’ve pursued something else. But we didn’t start Gosh! Kids to conform. We started it to speak up. We wanted to build what we believe is urgently needed, even if it may not be the most popular or profitable venture.
I’ve learned that just because you are free to pursue the attractive, promising or lucrative, doesn’t mean you should. Well, you could—but that would mean you’d have to pay it in another currency.
The currency of your principles and your so-called “beliefs.”
But if your beliefs don’t cost you something, are they truly your beliefs?
And if you refuse to take a leap of faith—in business, life or family—because you fear it will cost you, can you consider yourself successful?
It doesn’t matter if you’re the CEO of a billion-dollar company, or a small business owner. It doesn’t matter if you’re a lawyer, a teacher, or a parent just trying to get by.
At some point, we all pay for what we say we believe in.
And it means nothing, as the saying goes, until it costs you something.
