Shaunna D. Jones '95

It took me almost 40 years to learn that three little words — ‘I don’t know’ — can transform your life. However, if I had been listening closely I would have realized that Newman taught this powerful tool in elementary school. In 2016, I was standing on the edge of a precipice. After graduating from an Ivy League college and a top-tier law school, I had been promoted to partner at an elite law firm. I had built a professional reputation I was proud of. And I lived in New York City, a place others dream of living (though perhaps not many New Orleanians)! By every external measure, I had arrived. And though apprehensive, I was ready to leave. It felt both terrifying and liberating to step off the path I had spent decades building.

 

I had spent years mastering the intricacies of corporate restructuring, learning to navigate the high-stakes world of distressed companies and complex negotiations. Now I was choosing to walk away from that expertise, that identity, that hard-won partnership, to try something entirely new. But here's what I've learned across multiple career reinventions — from law firm partner to strategic consultant to my current role as Chief Talent Officer of an international law firm: growth and curiosity mean that life will hold adventure, but it will also hold failure. They are twin companions on any journey worth taking.

 

Discimus Agere Agendo — we learn to do by doing. I didn’t fully understand what that meant when I was walking the halls at Newman. But over time, I realized it’s not just a motto; it’s a philosophy of self-belief. This invitation to act before I’m ready has become the organizing principle of my adult life. You can't analyze your way into courage. You can't strategize your way past fear. You have to act, even when — especially when — you don’t know what comes next.

 

Each chapter of my career has looked different on paper, but the throughline has been the same: the willingness to start as a beginner again. My transition to consulting allowed me to continue focusing on organizations and providing pragmatic advice, but in an entirely different context. I advised leaders on initiatives including private-public partnerships to build access and opportunity for underserved communities. That work stretched me in ways I couldn't have anticipated. It also ultimately led me to discover my passion for people management and organizational development. Now, as a Chief Talent Officer, I lead the global team responsible for ensuring our colleagues have opportunities to grow into their best professional selves, both for themselves and the organization.

 

I’ve taken other professional leaps as well. I sit on the board of a trucking company. And let’s just say my driving skills won’t land me in a Nascar race. I co-authored The Thread Collectors, a historical novel set in Civil War-era New Orleans. When I was approached with the opportunity, my first instinct was to reply: “I don’t know how to write a novel.”. But I did know how to write a sentence, which could lead to the next. Each of these pursuits required me to step into spaces where I wasn't sure I belonged, where I didn't yet have all the answers.

 

What Newman gave me wasn't just academic rigor or technical competence—though I certainly received both. What the school instilled in me was something more fundamental: the belief that I could learn by doing, that curiosity was not just permitted but essential, and that the discomfort of not knowing was the price of admission for growth. I recall my senior class project in which I teamed up with a classmate to research early 1900s fashion, design and sew clothing and hold a fashion show. My mother was not amused when she found out I could have played a few songs I already knew on the harp. But where’s the fun in that?! And to this day, I can still sew a straight line on a Singer, though I need some help threading the needle.

 

I've failed more times than I can count. Projects that didn't land. Strategies that fell flat. Moments where I questioned whether I had made the right choice in leaving the security of what I knew. But I've also discovered capacities in myself I never would have found if I'd stayed in my lane, if I'd let fear of not knowing make my decisions.

 

Being able to try new things is a privilege. Not everyone gets the opportunity to reinvent themselves, to take professional risks, to pursue curiosity wherever it leads. I don't take that privilege lightly. Newman taught me that growth isn't comfortable. That excellence requires both structure and creativity. That you can honor where you come from while still reaching toward something new. Sometimes the most important thing you can do is not know where you’ll land — and leap anyway — trusting that the learning will come in the doing.