August 2026
Step zero: What are you actually solving?
Before solving anything, confirm what the problem actually is. We tend to skip that step, and it turns out to be the one that matters most.
We waste a lot of time solving the wrong problems. We accept the task in front of us and let it define the boundaries of the investigation. Then we intervene before we understand what's actually constraining progress. Before working on anything that matters, start with step zero: follow the cause beyond the first plausible explanation, look beyond the domain that seems to contain the problem, and bring in another mind to see what you can't.
In fourteen years of product management, my most important skill has been locating and defining the problem. Ask someone to describe the problem they face. Often they name the intervention they've already chosen: fix my spreadsheet. But if bad data is entering upstream, changing the spreadsheet won't solve the problem.
A student struggling with algebra may have never mastered fractions two grades earlier. They think they need to study more algebra. More algebra may help, but the holes in the foundation can slow or even halt progress.
At Minerva Project, we saw how the constraint could sit outside a subject entirely. The university experience was challenging, particularly the global rotation, which moved students to a new city every semester. Some students appeared to be doing okay in class while struggling much more visibly in the rest of their lives. Some rarely left their rooms. Because the strongest signals appeared outside class, student-life staff sometimes recognized the problem before faculty did. For those students, working on resilience mattered more to their academic progress than more time with the formal academic material.
Health may be the clearest case. When my right knee started bugging me at the gym, the first round of care stayed focused on the knee: take an NSAID, rest, and then begin strengthening. When that failed to resolve the problem, the system did not naturally widen its frame. I had to push outside the usual path and work with a series of professionals, both inside and outside the traditional system. A friend-of-a-friend physical therapist performed a full structural evaluation and found that the knee itself was sound, despite the pain. The next clue was a shift in my squat that seemed to stem from a leg-length discrepancy. A doctor found that my legs were actually the same length; muscular tightness was tilting my hips. Improving hip positioning and range of motion via yoga eventually resolved both the compensation and the pain. No single professional assembled that model for me. I had to carry the context from one person to the next and put it together myself.
Even when we know the first framing may be wrong, three things keep us from looking further.
Investigation is difficult
- Depth is exhausting. Reality has a surprising amount of detail. We can't chase everything down, so we often stop at the first answer that seems good enough.
- We were not trained to find problems, only to solve given ones. School hands you the problem set. Work hands you the ticket or project.
- Following an established process feels safer. Painting by numbers feels like progress; returning to first principles is uncomfortable and sometimes necessary.
Our perspective is limited
- We each see only our own corner of the system. The problem may live beyond that boundary.
- We let a narrow idea of our "job" limit the inquiry. Doing the work well sometimes means stepping beyond the role as we understood it.
Some answers are costly
- Some explanations are socially costly to name. They implicate protected people, violate group beliefs, expose vulnerabilities, or threaten relationships. Even when we recognize it privately, we may keep it unspoken.
- Sometimes the investigation points back at us: a habit, an emotion we are avoiding, or a fixed story about who we are. Looking further only feels worthwhile if we believe we can change those things.
Then there are problems that remain invisible from inside the situation. This is why step zero is rarely solo work. My coach sees patterns I miss: I tend to over-intellectualize, and she pulls me back into my body, where I make better decisions. You can approximate an outside view by asking how a stranger would see the situation. Another person occupies a different vantage point and may have knowledge you lack. Working through the problem together can produce an explanation neither of you would reach alone.
Step zero also requires resolve. Frameworks and other people can help you investigate, but they can't force you to keep looking when the inquiry turns toward something you would rather avoid. You still have to face what you find and take the first step.
Finding the constraint is what makes your next step effective. Without a model of the system, we push on whatever is directly in front of us. A better problem definition can reveal a higher-leverage intervention.
Step zero has to become part of how you see problems:
- Go deep: follow the cause beyond the first plausible explanation.
- Go broad: look beyond the domain that seems to contain the problem.
- Bring in another mind: borrow knowledge and perspective to see what you can't.
You don't need certainty. You need enough understanding to choose your next action deliberately instead of by default.
Step zero is a practice for the person solving the problem. It also gives us a standard for systems designed to help a person improve.
Narrow systems can be useful without meeting that standard. A textbook or practice tool can do its job without knowing anything about the rest of a person's life. A system that measures its success by whether the person actually improves has taken on a larger responsibility.
A good human tutor does more than walk through the algebra problem. They notice the dark circles under the student's eyes or a long sigh. They see when the same confusion keeps returning. The best tutors care about the student, not just the subject. A system built for the same purpose should be able to ask whether the constraint is algebra, fractions, sleep, or something else. Otherwise it can deliver the lesson perfectly and still fail to deliver actual progress. That's a system serving the lesson, not the person.