Who is a genius? This question has greatly interested humankind for centuries.

Let's state clearly: Einstein was a genius. His face is almost the international symbol for genius. But we want to go beyond one man and explore the nature of genius itself. Why is it that some people are so much more intelligent or creative than the rest of us? And who are they?

In the sciences and arts, those praised as geniuses were most often white men, of European origin. Perhaps this is not a surprise. It's said that history is written by the victors, and those victors set the standards for admission to the genius club. When contributions were made by geniuses outside the club—women, or people of a different color or belief—they were unacknowledged and rejected by others.

A study recently published by Science found that as young as age six, girls are less likely than boys to say that members of their gender（性别）are "really, really smart." Even worse, the study found that girls act on that belief Around age six they start to avoid activities said to be for children who are "really, really smart." Can our planet afford to have any great thinkers become discouraged and give up? It doesn't take a genius to know the answer: absolutely not.

Here's the good news. In a wired world with constant global communication, we're all positioned to see flashes of genius wherever they appear. And the more we look, the more we will see that social factors（因素）like gender, race, and class do not determine the appearance of genius. As a writer says, future geniuses come from those with "intelligence, creativity, perseverance（毅力）, and simple good fortune, who are able to change the world."

    After years of observing human nature, I have decided that two qualities make the difference between men of great achievement and men of average performance curiosity and discontent. I have never known an outstanding man who lacked either. And I have never known an average man who had both. The two belong together.

    Together, these deep human urges (驱策力) count for much more that ambition. Galileo was not merely ambitious when he dropped objects of varying weights from the Leaning Tower at Pisa and timed their fall to the ground. Like Galileo, all the great names in history were curious and asked in discontent, "Why? Why? Why?"

Fortunately, curiosity and discontent don't have to be learned. We are born with them and need only recapture them.

    "The great man," said Mencius (孟子), "is he who does not lose his child's heart." Yet most of us do lose it. We stop asking questions. We stop challenging custom. We just follow the crowd. And the crowd desires restful average. It encourages us to occupy our own little corner, to avoid foolish leaps into the dark, to be satisfied.

    Most of us meet new people, and new ideas, with hesitation. But once having met and liked them, we think how terrible it would have been, had we missed the chance. We will probably have to force ourselves to waken our curiosity and discontent and keep them awake.

    How should you start? Modestly, so as not to become discouraged. I think of one friend who couldn't arrange flowers to satisfy herself. She was curious about how the experts did it. How she is one of the experts, writing books on flower arrangement.

    One way to begin is to answer your own excuses. You haven't any special ability? Most people don't; there are only a few geniuses. You haven't any time? That's good  because it's always the people with no time who get things done. Harriet Stowe, mother of six, wrote parts of Uncle Tom's Cabin while cooking. You're too old? Remember that Thomas Costain was 57 when he published his first novel, and that Grandma Moses showed her first pictures when she was 78.

    However you start, remember there is no better time to start than right now, for you'll never be more alive than you are at this moment.

        When John was growing up, other kids felt sorry for him. His parents always had him weeding the garden, carrying out the garbage and delivering newspapers. But when John reached adulthood, he was better off than his childhood playmates. He had more job satisfaction, a better marriage and was healthier. Most of all, he was happier. Far happier.

These are the findings of a 40-year study that followed the lives of 456 teenage boys from Boston. The study showed that those who had worked as boys enjoyed happier and more productive lives than those who had not. “Boys who worked in the home or community gained competence (能力) and came to feel they were worthwhile members of society,” said George Vaillant, the psychologist (心理学家) who made the discovery. “And because they felt good about themselves, others felt good about them.”

Vaillant's study followed these males in great detail. Interviews were repeated at ages 25, 31 and 47. Under Vaillant, the researchers compared the men's mental-health scores with their boyhood-activity scores with their boyhood-activity scores. Points were awarded for part-time jobs, housework, effort in school, and ability to deal with problems.

The link between what the men had done as boys and how they turned out as adults was surprisingly sharp. Those who had done the most boyhood activities were twice as likely to have warm relations with a wide variety of people, five times as likely to be well paid and 16 times less likely to have been unemployed. The researchers also found that IQ and family social and economic class made no real difference in how the boys turned out.

Working—at any age—is important. Childhood activities help a child develop responsibility, independence, confidence and competence—the underpinnings (基础) of emotional health. They also help him understand that people must cooperate and work toward common goals. The most competent adults are those who know how to do this. Yet work isn't everything. As Tolstoy once said, “One can live magnificently in this world if one knows how to work and how to love, to work for the person one loves and to love one's work.”