# Transcript: Keynote: Jennifer B Wallace **Date:** March 12, 2026 · 10:00 PM **Session:** [Keynote: Jennifer B Wallace](/sessions/2026-03-12/pp1149187-keynote-jennifer-b-wallace) ## Summary Jennifer B. Wallace explores mattering — the fundamental human need to feel valued and to add value — as the antidote to modern loneliness, burnout, and disconnection. Drawing on research and powerful stories from firefighters, factory workers, and sanitation workers turned Harvard lawyers, she presents the SAID framework (Significant, Appreciated, Invested in, Depended on) as practical ingredients for building cultures of mattering at work, at home, and in communities. ## Topics `mattering` · `belonging` · `workplace culture` · `mental health` · `resilience` · `appreciation` · `human connection` · `AI and purpose` · `perfectionism` ## Key Takeaways 1. Mattering has four ingredients (SAID): feeling Significant, Appreciated, Invested in, and Depended on — and each can be practiced intentionally through small daily actions 2. The biggest challenge ahead isn't keeping up with machines but protecting the fundamental human need to matter in a world where AI may make humans 'not required' for most tasks 3. Workplace disengagement isn't laziness — 70% of employees disengage because they don't see how their work makes a difference; connecting people to impact transforms engagement 4. Our resilience doesn't come from self-care in isolation but from deep interdependent relationships — we've traded connection for convenience without realizing the cost 5. A nightly 30-second practice of asking 'When did I feel valued today?' and 'Where did I add value?' rewires the brain's negativity bias and builds a living record of mattering ## Full Transcript And yet, we can't stop reaching for the past. Vinyl record sales are soaring. Landline phones are back, as are disposable cameras. People are driving for hours to visit Pizza Hut Classics — restaurants that have been redesigned to look exactly as they did in the 1990s with those lamps and the checkered board tablecloths. And remember those big red thick cups filled with Diet Coke and the salad bar? The whole thing? It's all back. So, what is this nostalgia all about? What are we reaching for really? I don't think it's the relics. What I think we're yearning for is the way we felt all those years ago. We miss the sense of belonging that used to be baked into everyday life. Wednesday card games, big family dinners on Sunday night, the same faces at the same places week after week. We miss the undivided attention we used to get on those plastic landline phones until notifications started pulling us away from each other. We miss a time when being a good neighbor meant looking out for one another, not keeping to ourselves. I believe what we are really nostalgic for is mattering. The feeling that you are valued and that you are adding value to the lives around you. Most of us here know the word mattering. We use it all the time. But what most people don't know is that mattering is actually a fundamental human need that all of us have. We need to feel valued and know that we add value to the world around us. It's part of our evolutionary inheritance. For our earliest ancestors, being valued by the group meant protection, survival. Being unvalued meant certain death. That ancient wiring is still in us today driving our behaviors. When we feel like we matter, we show up to the world in positive ways. We want to contribute. We want to engage. We want to connect. But when we are made to feel like we don't matter, we suffer. Some of us might become anxious, depressed, numb out on our phones, turn to substances to try to alleviate that pain. For others, that pain can turn inward. One study of suicidal men looked at the words they most often use to describe their suffering: useless and worthless. These two words capture the heavy weight of feeling like you do not matter. And here's something that is keeping me up at night now. Soon that feeling of uselessness and worthlessness may go out on a scale like we have never seen before. Tech leaders are predicting that within the next 10 years, humans may not be required for most tasks. No wonder we are reaching back for the past. What I believe is that the biggest challenge ahead is not just keeping up with machines but protecting that fundamental human need we all have in this new world that we are rapidly building. How do we make sure that people still know that they matter? The answer, it turns out, is simpler than you may think. The power of mattering is that it offers both a diagnosis of what is ailing us and a solution. Psychologists measure mattering with a few direct questions: How important are you to others? How much do others pay attention to you? How much would you be missed if you went away? How much do others depend on you? And how much do other people show that they care about you? If your score is close to 20, then you pretty much feel like you matter. But if your score is low, mattering isn't fixed. When our feelings of mattering are low, there are practical things that we can do to raise it. It starts with four key ingredients that make the foundation for mattering. The first ingredient is Significant — that we are uniquely known and important. The next ingredient is Appreciated — that who we are and what we do make a difference. We also want to feel Invested in — that someone is in our corner and cares about our goals and well-being. Finally, we want to feel Depended on — that we are needed and trusted and that we would be missed. Together they create the acronym SAID, which is easy to remember. What I found most startling in my research when I asked people to tell me a time when they felt like they mattered — they never talked about life's big moments, the milestone birthday or the big raise or promotion. They always talked about the small everyday moments, like when they were sick and a neighbor came over with a pot of soup, or when a colleague called to check in after a really rough week at work. Mattering lives in the details of our lives. I saw this when a gentleman was being presented an award by his colleagues. But what brought him to tears was what happened after — his colleague pulled out a big jar of M&M's, his go-to late afternoon snack. Those M&M's gave something the plaque couldn't: the knowledge that you are known and loved, quirks and all. But here's the challenge in our modern world. Our culture makes it harder than ever to show up as our authentic selves. Researchers point to socially prescribed perfectionism — the growing belief that society expects us to be flawless. The theologian Henry Nouwen warned about the beliefs underlying this pressure, what he called the three great lies of society: I am what I have. I am what I do. I am what others think of me. Without even knowing it, we absorb these lies. But it's impossible to truly connect with someone who is hiding behind a perfectionistic facade. Researchers call this the beautiful mess effect — we overestimate how perfect we need to be to be worthy of someone's attention and underestimate how much our flaws actually make us appear more authentic and draw people closer to us. So here's the takeaway when it comes to feeling significant. If you want to feel it more yourself, let people in. Let them see the real you. Let them glimpse into the messy parts of your life. And if you want someone to feel significant, start by paying close attention to them. Notice what they reach for at 3 p.m. and remember their love of M&M's. Mattering is built through small moments like these. We all crave social proof that who we are and what we do make a difference. And appreciation is what offers us that proof. But most of us are living at capacity — so much input coming at us, so much output being demanded, that just to get through the day we need to go through life on autopilot. And when you go through life on autopilot, you miss the signals. Workplaces have the potential to be engines of mattering, and yet Gallup finds that 70% of employees report feeling disengaged. Most people don't disengage because they're lazy. They disengage because they don't think what they're doing makes a difference. Pulling back becomes a form of self-protection. I visited a factory in Phillips, Wisconsin, and saw something unexpected. Workers were tearing up as they described feeling so cared for at work that they were able to come home and be their best selves for their partners and parents. Every workstation had a card of the piece being manufactured and how it fit into the final product, along with a photo and story about the person who would one day use it. That story card was a powerful reminder that they weren't just manufacturing parts — they were building something meaningful. When employees know they matter, they work harder, stay loyal, and bring more energy to their roles. Creating a culture of mattering isn't just the right thing to do for your employees — it's also good business. We need proof that what we are doing is actually making a difference. I looked at firefighters — people running into burning buildings, risking their lives. A fire chief named Greg told me something surprising: even firefighters can question the impact of their work. As a rookie, he rescued a young woman from a car wreck but never knew what happened to her. Being disconnected from the impact of their efforts fuels burnout, even cynicism. When Greg became fire chief, he built a system that tracked outcomes of rescues because he wanted his firefighters to know when their efforts had saved a life. It's not enough to do important work — we need to know our work makes a difference. Sometimes all it takes are a few post-it notes. At a New York City nonprofit, social workers' doors were covered with grateful client notes, but the accounting and development office doors were bare. The executive director put up a sign: 'Tell someone how they make a difference.' The notes focused on the doer — their tenacity, their creativity — not just the deed. Staff that were once quiet started speaking up in meetings because they now felt critical to the mission. Employees who receive meaningful and specific feedback are 48% less likely to be job hunting and up to five times more engaged. What happens at work doesn't stay at work. When people feel undervalued at work, that feeling follows them home — showing up as exhaustion or irritability, straining marriages, interrupting connection with kids. Researchers call this the long arm of the job. But the reverse is also true. When people feel appreciated at work, that feeling travels home with them. A firefighter told me that knowing about the lives he'd helped allowed him to be a more present husband. We all need to stay connected to the impact we make. Sometimes all it takes is closing the loop — a simple text saying 'if it weren't for you.' We don't have to wait for other people to appreciate us. I started a 30-second practice: when I fall asleep at night, I ask myself two questions. When did I feel valued today? And where did I add value, even in a small way, today? This interrupts our negativity bias — the negative is stickier than the good. This practice trains attention to look for evidence of mattering and reminds me that even on an ordinary Tuesday, I contribute something. Over time, these small moments accumulate into a living record that you are not invisible, not interchangeable, and proof that you do make a difference. The next ingredient is feeling invested in — the idea that we have someone in our corner. I learned about this from Rayhan, who once dreamed of going pro until a shoulder injury ended that dream. He took a job with the local sanitation department and took pride in keeping his community clean. But he couldn't ignore the way people sometimes looked through him. A mother pointed at him and his colleagues and told her son, 'Don't wind up like those men.' That moment could make anyone question their worth, but Rayhan had people in his corner who kept pushing him to apply to college. They set up a meeting with a dean, made sure he showed up. They didn't just believe in Rayhan — they invested in him. When we invest in someone else's success, their win begins to feel like our win. Psychologists call it ego extension — the idea that we can extend our sense of self to include the successes of others. Rayhan did well at community college, transferred to the University of Maryland, and eventually went to Harvard Law School. There, he noticed cafeteria workers and custodial staff facing the same invisibility he once did, so he started a letter-writing campaign and created a yearly event where staff are publicly recognized. This is what mattering looks like in action — it spreads. When someone stands in your corner, you learn how to stand in someone's corner, too. The final ingredient of mattering is feeling depended on. In many ways, we depend on each other so much less than we used to. A woman who earns extra income on a task-for-hire app told me her most frequent requests are small things — putting packages inside so they don't get stolen, cleaning kitty litter for a pregnant woman whose partner was away. Is there no neighbor that can help? We have become so accustomed to outsourcing, so wary of being a burden, that we default to the market before we reach out to one another. These small signals of reliance are not small — they are the building blocks of healthy interdependent relationships. We've traded connection for convenience without knowing what we signed up for. A woman who had just moved was offered help painting her living room by acquaintances. Her first instinct was to say no — she didn't want to impose. But she said yes, and afterward she told me: 'So fun. We got to know each other, laughed, played music, and had lunch together in her new backyard.' Building healthy interdependent relationships makes us more resilient. Decades of research find that our resilience is not found in isolation — we can't self-care ourselves to resilience. It rests on deep, nourishing relationships that remind us we are significant, appreciated, invested in, and depended on. That we matter. Just as important as building mattering is noticing the forces that erode it. Psychologists call the shadow side 'anti-mattering' — the active experience of being ignored, dismissed, or treated as unimportant. I saw this on a train ride. A young man, just humiliated on the platform, stormed into the car shouting at everyone and no one. The other passengers shrank down in their seats. Then the conductor approached calmly. 'Is everything okay? Do you need anything?' The man's shoulders dropped. The conductor understood that this man was asking the most fundamental human questions: Do you see me? Do you hear me? Do I matter? And the conductor answered with kindness: Yes, I see you. Yes, you belong right here. Take a seat. Since that moment on the train — which was actually the impetus for my book — I have tried to live my life more like the conductor. I try to imagine everyone I meet wearing an invisible sign that says, 'Tell me, do I matter?' We can all answer that question with kindness and compassion. We can remind people that they're significant with our eye contact, appreciated by our words of thanks, invested in by rooting them on, and letting them know that we depend on them. And here's the most beautiful part: every time you remind someone how much they matter, we are reminded just how much we matter, too. During the Q&A, Jennifer addressed how to distinguish genuine mattering from superficial appreciation programs. She emphasized the concept of attunement — truly tuning into somebody, letting them know you see them and care about them. Mattering is not a slogan; it's a felt experience. On showing educators they matter: young people's sense of mattering rests on the mattering of the adults in their lives. The best thing we can do in a school is prioritize the mattering of all adults — security guards, cafeteria workers, everyone is an educator. She also confirmed that mattering can be designed into systems and organizations, throughout the entire employee experience. For people who feel they 'matter too much' to others while neglecting themselves, Jennifer offered two practices. First, a daily 30-second check-in while brushing teeth: what is one small need I need to fill today to show up as my best self? Second, she cited a Mayo Clinic study where busy medical professionals who met for just one hour a week for 12 weeks saw drops in cortisol and built deep friendships. Our resilience rests on our relationships — standing at the foot of a hill together makes the incline look less steep. Jennifer connected her first book 'Never Enough' to mattering research. She found that high-achieving students, once named an at-risk group, were two to six times more likely to suffer from clinical anxiety and depression. The kids doing well were those who felt valued and depended on. She discovered that adult mattering is crucial — children can't have what we don't model. She also highlighted research on intrinsic versus extrinsic values: extrinsic values like status and image are linked to negative mental health, while intrinsic values like being a good neighbor are linked to well-being. We must be deliberate in a culture that profits from activating extrinsic values. On what holds us back from expressing appreciation: we think people already know, we fear awkwardness, we live at capacity. But research shows people love hearing words of appreciation — it doesn't take much. Jennifer shared the practice of 'giving people their flowers while they're alive.' For parents nurturing mattering, she shared a powerful metaphor: a mother would wrinkle, dirty, and soak a $20 bill, then ask her children how much it was worth now. Like the bill, your value doesn't change — whether you've been knocked down, wrinkled, or soggy inside, your worth is your worth, no matter what. --- *Source: stt · Language: en · Model: claude-opus-4-6* [← Back to session](/sessions/2026-03-12/pp1149187-keynote-jennifer-b-wallace)