When Did Our Obsession with Productivity Begin—and Why?

When my five-year-old nephew showed me his perfectly organized crayon collection - sorted by color, meticulously arranged from lightest to darkest - I realized productivity wasn't something we learned as adults. It was something that lived inside us, waiting to be acknowledged, perhaps even celebrated, from the very beginning.

We are a generation that breathes productivity like oxygen. But have we ever paused to ask ourselves: when exactly did this obsession begin?

Was it during those childhood summers when we carefully planned our day's activities, or during school years when gold stars became our first performance metrics?

Let's try to decode this with a perfect example.

Remember how we used to play during childhood? It wasn't just play; it was a calculated mission of achievement. Whether it was building the tallest Lego tower, finishing a puzzle faster than the day before, or organizing toy cars with perfect symmetry, these weren't mere games. They were early productivity rituals, unknowingly preparing us for a world that would demand constant optimization. We were training for efficiency, disguised as innocent childhood fun.

Moreover the education system has been our first training ground for “being Productive”. Gold stars, merit badges, ranking systems - all of these told us our worth was directly proportional to our output.

Our report cards weren't just academic assessments; they were productivity scorecards. An A+ wasn't just a grade - it was proof of our ability to perform, to meet external expectations, to be efficient.

The concept of “Being Productive" doesn't just enter our lives. It seeps in, slowly and systematically.

By the time we're teenagers, we've already internalized complex productivity frameworks. Social media amplified this further. Suddenly, our lives became performative - every achievement documented, every milestone shared, turning personal growth into a public performance metric.

This isn't just about external pressure. There's an internal mechanism at play. Psychologists might call it intrinsic motivation, but it feels more primal. The satisfaction of completing a task, the dopamine rush of crossing something off a list, all these are addictive experiences that start much earlier than we acknowledge.

Technology accelerated this cultural shift. Productivity apps, tracking systems, and quantified self-movements turned human potential into something measurable. We began seeing ourselves as systems to be optimized, with efficiency as the ultimate goal.

Consciously or subconsciously, we're constantly measuring, comparing, and striving for improvement. Our personal development has become another project management task.

But we never pause and see beyond this rat race of being productive - Are we truly more productive, or simply more stressed? Has our childhood conditioning, which instilled the idea that 100% efficiency is the key to a fulfilling life, created a generation of burnout warriors?

Perhaps the most profound realization is that our productivity isn't solely about external achievements. It's a deeply personal narrative of self-worth, a constant effort to prove our existence in a world that eternally demands more. From organizing crayons to managing complex professional portfolios, we've been our own life coaches, always optimizing, always evolving.

Of course, measuring productivity to enhance performance and impact is a valuable life skill. However, it shouldn't become the sole metric of self-worth.

But the question still remains: In our relentless pursuit of productivity, have we lost sight of the simple art of being?