Among Humans: The Power of Uniqueness

I started reading Surrounded by Idiots early this summer, but it took me a while to finish. Part of it was timing, but part of it was the title. I wasn’t exactly comfortable pulling it out on the subway—the cover felt like it might draw the wrong kind of attention. The words sounded harsh, almost insulting, and definitely not something I’d want to say about the people around me. But once I got into it, I realized it wasn’t about calling people names at all. It was about personalities and how often we misread each other.

Thomas Erikson breaks people down into four colors—reds, yellows, greens, and blues. It’s simple, maybe too simple, but it makes sense. Some people are direct, others are dreamers, some are steady and calm, others need the details. What feels “too much” to one person might just be energy. What feels “too slow” might actually be carefulness. The point isn’t to label—it’s to understand.

That reminder followed me through the summer. In Costa Rica, I joined a field team studying bees and pollinators. Each of us carried a different rhythm into the work: the ones who jumped right in, the quiet observers, the steady hands who kept us grounded. Our uniqueness didn’t clash—it balanced out, making the work possible.

Not long after, I was back in New York for a summer institute on climate change at Columbia University. Again, the uniqueness of each person stood out. Some voices pressed urgently for action, others pored over the data, while some focused on storytelling and connections. The energy came not from everyone thinking the same way, but from the mix of perspectives moving us forward.

And then there was Mont Blanc. Hiking with friends across high passes and long valleys made those lessons feel tangible. Some charged ahead, eager to crest the next ridge. Others paced themselves carefully, saving energy for the long day. We regrouped at cols, like Col de la Seigne, where the wind whipped around us as we waited for the last of our group to appear. When everyone finally stood at the top together, looking out into the wide valley below, it didn’t matter who arrived first or last. What mattered was that we arrived as a group.

Stops at mountain refuges gave us time to rest, sip coffee, and share laughter. The faster hikers learned patience. The steady climbers reminded us to breathe. The storytellers lifted spirits when the trail felt endless. No one pace defined the journey. What carried us forward was the mix of styles—the push, the pause, the encouragement, and the uniqueness each person brought.

As the new school year begins, I find myself holding onto these lessons more tightly. My classroom has its own mix of “reds, yellows, greens, and blues.” The eager debaters, the quiet thinkers, the careful planners, the ones who bring boundless energy. Just like on the trail, it’s never about one pace or one style. It’s about learning how to move forward together.

Even Jet, when he first showed me the book, said he was curious about why some personalities click and others clash. And maybe that’s the real takeaway. In the end, we’re not surrounded by idiots. We’re among humans—different, complicated, unique humans.

And that makes all the difference.