I was always pretty sure there was a correct answer to those “open-ended” test questions. As a kid, I spent more than my fair share of time trying to find the perfect wording to every test question and essay I ever wrote. I was absolutely convinced that if I did not get it just right, I would fail the test, not pass the class, and have to repeat the 4th grade. After stewing, I usually managed to squeeze my elaborate, way-too-wordy, creative answers onto the 5 allotted lines. Phew.

The thing is, I knew there was one particular answer the teachers were looking for. You would think that “open-ended” meant freedom to explore a range of possibilities, but I quickly learned that my response needed to contain certain words, express a very particular idea, and be the perfect length. What was the point of calling these questions “open-ended” if there was only one right answer?

Dictionary.com defines “open-ended” as:

1. not having fixed limits; unrestricted; broad:
2. allowing for future changes, revisions, or additions:
3. having no fixed answer:

In my adult life I have come across thousands of “open-ended” situations. Hell, writing this blog is one of them. A few others include deciding what to buy my mom for her birthday, deciding which city to move to, and choosing a name for my cat. All of these things have endless possibilities and could be met with creativity and excitement. When it comes time to make the choice though, I usually find myself wracked with anxiety and … guilt. Surely, I catch myself thinking, there is a right answer to each of these open-ended questions. And surely, I am failing if I get it wrong.

This societal habit of having limiting expectations to open-ends creates an underlying anxiety that we might not even be aware of at first. We have come to believe that there is a right way, if not surely a best way, to fill the lines allotted. We are always wondering how we can boil it down, perfect it, and not take too long to make our point. Ugh.

What if we took the time to rethink the way we answer the prompts of everyday life? What if we took a suggestion from my overly zealous child self and stapled an extra page to the back of the test sheet? What if we doodled instead of wrote? Or if we decided not to answer the question at all? How much more diversity of thought an action would there be in the world?

Luckily, I’m no longer worried about flunking the 4th grade and have started debunking my belief that there is only one way to pass. With a bit of unlearning and willingness to step outside of the box, we can all start to ask ourselves:

What would I do if I believed the question was actually open-ended?

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