
If you’ve taken lessons from Milestones for very long, and have expressed how you’ll never be as good as _________, you’ve probably heard your teacher say something like, “You’re just as good as them, they just have an extra 10,000 hours of practice under their belt. When you’ve practiced 10,000 hours, you’ll be 10,000 hours good too.”
The following is an fascinating excerpt from a fascinating book. This is abridged, but the rest of the book is just as intriguing:
“Is there such a thing as innate talent? The obvious answer is yes: achievement = talent + preparation. The problem with this view, though, is that the closer psychologists look at the careers of the gifted, the smaller the role innate talent seems to play, and the bigger the role preparation seems to play.
Exhibit A in this talent argument is a study done in the early 1990s by the psychologist K. Anders Ericsson and two colleagues at Berlin’s elite Academy of Music. With the help of the Academy’s professors, they divided the school’s violinists into three groups. In the first group were the stars, the students with the potential to become world class soloists. In the second were those judged to be merely “good.” In the third were students who were unlikely to ever play professionally and who intended to be music teachers in the public school system. All of the violinists were then asked the same question: over the course of your entire career, ever since you first picked up the violin, how many hours have you practiced?
Everyone from all three groups started playing at roughly the same time, around the age of five. In those first few years, everyone practiced roughly the same amount, about two or three hours a week. But when the students were around the age of eight, real differences started to emerge. The students who would end up the best in their class began to practice more than everyone else: six hours a week by age nine, eight hours a week by age twelve, sixteen hours a week by age fourteen, and up and up, until by the age of twenty they were practicing — that is, purposefully and single-mindedly playing their instruments with the intent to get better — well over thirty hours a week. In fact, by the age of twenty, the elite performers had totaled ten thousand hours of practice over the course of their lives. By contrast, the merely good students had totaled eight thousand hours, and the future music teachers had totaled just over four thousand hours.
Ericsson and his colleagues then compared amateur pianists with professional pianists. The same pattern emerged. The amateurs never practiced more than about three hours a week over the course of their childhood, and by the age of twenty they had totaled two thousand hours of practice. The professionals, on the other hand, steadily increased their practice time every year, until by the age of twenty they had reached ten thousand hours.
The striking thing about Ericsson’s study is that he and his colleagues couldn’t find any “naturals,” musicians who floated effortlessly to the top while practicing a fraction of the time their peers did. Nor could they find any “grinds,” people who worked harder than everyone else, yet just didn’t have what it takes to break the top ranks.
Their research suggested that once you have enough ability to get into a top music school, the thing that distinguishes one performer from another is how hard he or she works. That’s it. What’s more, the people at the very top don’t just work much harder than everyone else. They work much, much harder.
This idea – that excellence at a complex task requires a critical, minimum level of practice – surfaces again and again in studies of expertise. In fact, researchers have settled on what they believe is a magic number for true expertise: 10,000 hours.
The emerging picture from such studies is that 10,000 hours of practice is required to achieve the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert in anything.
Of course, this doesn’t address why some people get more out of their practice sessions than others, but no one has yet found a case in which true world-class expertise was accomplished in less time. This is true even of the people we think of as prodigies. 10,000 hours is the magic number of greatness.”
Gladwell then goes on to give example after example of world-famous “prodigies” who hit their stride at almost exactly 10,000 hours. How did Mozart fare? Well over 10,000 hours. Apparently not a prodigy. You could likely do better.