Introduction
In today’s rapidly changing world, adaptability isn’t just a nice-to-have skill, t’s essential for survival and success. But how do we teach young people to adapt when traditional education systems often reward rigidity and conformity? Through my work with Pi515, a Des Moines-based nonprofit focused on STEM education for underserved youth, I’ve learned that adaptability isn’t taught through lectures or worksheets. It’s cultivated through experience, failure, patience, and the willingness to meet each child exactly where they are.
I was raised to not make assumptions. I’m solution-oriented, and because of this, I’ve learned to use data to predict what we should teach students. At the core of what we do is understanding learning, understanding each student, and building solutions that work for their unique circumstances. This chapter explores how hands-on learning, entrepreneurship, and real-world challenges develop the kind of adaptability young people need to thrive.
How Technology Teaches Students to Adapt
When students engage with rapidly changing technology, they enter a world where adaptability isn’t optional. A line of code that worked yesterday might break today. A robot design that seemed perfect on paper fails in practice. A 3D print cracks halfway through. In these moments, students learn that failure isn’t final; it’s feedback.
I remember one particular day in our Python learning class. The students had been preparing for weeks to pitch their projects to a CEO. They’d formed teams, written code, and built presentations. There was one team of only girls, and they were ready. But that day, the day of the pitch, their code stopped working.
In a traditional classroom, this would have been devastating, a failed grade, a missed opportunity. But these young women had something more valuable than working code: they had the best PowerPoint presentation of all the teams. They adapted. They showed up. They demonstrated their understanding, their vision, and their ability to communicate even when the technical piece failed them.
Code doesn’t always work. Sometimes it crashes. Teaching tech allows young people to learn in safe spaces and understand that things sometimes fail, and you have to pick yourself up. Opportunities do come, but when you are prepared, even when challenges arise, you can thrive and show up in other ways.
This is the iterative nature of STEM learning. When the code doesn’t work, you redesign. When the robot fails, you troubleshoot. When the 3D print breaks, you try again. Each failure is a lesson in adaptation, each setback an opportunity to approach the problem differently. Students learn that there are multiple pathways to success, and the ability to pivot is often more valuable than getting it right the first time.
The Unique Adaptability of Underserved Students
Students who face economic instability, navigate new countries, or overcome language barriers already possess remarkable adaptability skills. They’ve had to adapt to survive. The question isn’t whether they can adapt—it’s whether we, as educators, can create environments where those existing skills are recognized, valued, and channeled into educational and economic opportunities.
I have seen young people navigate many challenges, and I have seen them win. One story stays with me. I had a student who got pregnant while she was still in high school. In her culture, her father insisted she should get married. But she needed her education. She had dreams beyond what others expected of her.
Though we teach tech at Pi515, we also teach entrepreneurship. This young woman was able to get her GED, but more importantly, she started a business. Today she is an entrepreneur. But before she got there, she had to do things that were uncomfortable. She tried the nursing field. She explored different pathways. She adapted.
When supporting young people, you have to be patient, and you have to truly take time to know who they are and what their skills are. I knew she was good at braiding hair. I would have her do my hair, and I would pay her. It was a small thing, but it helped her see her skill as valuable.
This experience opened my eyes to systemic barriers that require their own kind of adaptation. I began advocating for braiding hair legislation in Iowa—a bill that would allow women to own braiding shops without going to cosmetology school, because cosmetology schools don’t teach braiding and the license requirements don’t make sense for a skill that doesn’t require cutting or chemicals. I didn’t know when I started that advocacy that it would support young women like her. But that’s the nature of adaptability—you learn, you adjust, you find solutions you didn’t know you were looking for.
Her story illustrates a crucial truth: adaptability isn’t just about bouncing back from failure. It’s about recognizing your skills, even when others don’t see them. It’s about finding paths forward when the traditional routes are blocked. It’s about being uncomfortable and doing it anyway.
Meeting Each Child Where They’re At
Adaptability can’t be taught through a one-size-fits-all curriculum. Each student carries their own story, and it is important to not put them in one box. We must give them a safe space to learn and grow, and we must be willing to adapt our teaching to meet their needs.
This requires adaptability from educators, too. When I say we meet each child where they’re at, I mean we truly assess what they know, what they need, and what’s possible given their circumstances. One student might need help with basic communication skills such as ,,,mhow to send an email, how to understand an email. These might seem like simple exercises, but reading emails, writing emails, understanding what to do with the email, knowing what you need to best respond to it—these are crucial skills.
Another student might be ready for advanced coding or robotics. Another might need entrepreneurship training. Another might need us to recognize that their talent lies somewhere we haven’t looked yet—like braiding hair, or art, or community organizing.
You can’t force kids to be who they can’t be, but it’s important to teach key skills that allow them to thrive. Communication skills, for example, are universally valuable. So is the ability to adapt your approach based on what’s working and what isn’t.
Building Adaptability From the Ground Up
We teach these skills young. And yes, how children learn starts at home. I often encourage parents to allow their children to build real-world capacity through everyday experiences.
Chores teach responsibility and follow-through. When a child commits to a task and sees it through, even when it’s boring or difficult, they’re learning to adapt to necessary but unpleasant realities.
Limited screen time, planned and organized—not random and endless—teaches children that entertainment isn’t constant and that boredom can be productive. Adaptability often means making do with what you have rather than reaching for constant stimulation.
Reading actual books builds attention span, imagination, and comprehension. In a world of quick hits and short videos, the ability to sit with a longer narrative and adapt to its pace is increasingly rare and valuable.
Volunteer opportunities where parents don’t intervene teach confidence and social awareness. When young people have to navigate new situations, work with different kinds of people, and solve problems independently, they develop adaptability muscles.
A part-time job while in school teaches time management, humility, and communication. It’s not a bad idea. Students learn to adapt to workplace expectations, to balance competing demands, and to show up even when they’d rather not.
And don’t underestimate simple things: a walk to the park, unhurried conversation, noticing nature, asking questions. Those quiet moments can add real value to young minds. In silence and slowness, we learn to be present and to adapt to the rhythm of the world rather than demanding the world adapt to us.
Student Ownership and Adaptive Pathways
When students have ownership of their educational pathway, they must adapt constantly. Interests change. Challenges arise. Opportunities emerge. The student who thought they wanted to be a nurse discovers a passion for business. The student who loved robotics finds they’re equally talented at graphic design. The student who struggled with traditional academics thrives in hands-on learning.
This kind of ownership requires a different relationship between educator and student. Rather than dictating a fixed path, we create conditions where students can explore, fail, adjust, and try again. We watch for what lights them up. We notice where they struggle and why. We adapt our support to match their evolving needs.
This is where individualized pathways become essential. When we give students the choice to pursue what interests them—whether that’s coding, 3D printing, entrepreneurship, or something else entirely—we’re teaching them that they have agency. And with agency comes the responsibility to adapt when things don’t go as planned.
Entrepreneurship as Adaptability Training
Perhaps nowhere is adaptability more evident than in entrepreneurship. Starting a business requires constant adjustment. You have an idea, you test it, you get feedback, you pivot. The market shifts. Customers need change. Your initial plan rarely survives contact with reality.
Entrepreneurship education teaches young people to embrace this uncertainty. They learn to see feedback not as criticism but as gold. Good feedback can take you to places you need to go. It shows you what you missed, what you assumed, what needs to change.
Most people are always looking for mentors. Young people need to be mentored, absolutely. But they also need to mentor us adults. They thrive in areas where we struggle. They understand technologies, cultures, and social dynamics that we don’t. The relationship has to be reciprocal. They need to learn from us, but we need to learn from them.
This mutual adaptability—where both mentor and mentee adjust to each other, where both teacher and student learn—creates a dynamic environment where everyone grows. The young woman who became a hair braiding entrepreneur taught me about barriers I hadn’t seen. The girls whose code crashed taught me about resilience I hadn’t expected. Every student I’ve worked with has required me to adapt my assumptions, my methods, and my understanding.
Adaptability as a Lifelong Practice
Adaptability isn’t a skill you master once and then possess forever. It’s a practice, a way of approaching the world with openness rather than rigidity. It requires patience—with yourself, with circumstances, with others. It requires the willingness to be uncomfortable. It requires recognizing that there are multiple paths to any destination and that sometimes the path you’re on needs to change.
Through hands-on STEM learning, entrepreneurship, and individualized pathways, we can create environments where young people—especially those who have been underserved by traditional systems—develop the adaptability they need to thrive in an uncertain world.
We must meet each child where they’re at, not where we wish they were. We must create safe spaces for failure and growth. We must recognize that the skills students need aren’t always found in textbooks. Sometimes they’re found in a makerspace where code crashes. Sometimes they’re found in starting a business when everyone expects you to take a different path. Sometimes they’re found in doing someone’s hair and realizing that skill has value.
Adaptability is about seeing possibilities where others see obstacles. It’s about using data and observation to build solutions rather than making assumptions. It’s about being solution-oriented even when the problems are complex and the answers aren’t clear.
Our young people are capable of remarkable adaptation. Our job is to get out of their way—and to adapt ourselves to support them better.
