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CHAPTER 6
More Than an ATM

Next gen donors clearly want to be engaged in their giving. They want to be hands‐on, giving time and not just treasure. But the “Do Something Generation” is a far cry from the “Do Anything Generation.” Not all engagement is the same.

Ask next gen donors to just give money, and they will feel like a bank account. Ask them to contribute their skills, knowledge, or hard‐earned expertise, and they will go all in.

Valuing Me for Me

Even though they are only in their 20s and 30s, these next gen donors are, for the most part, highly educated, and many have substantial skills and experience. Some are successful entrepreneurs, some are lawyers, some run their family's large foundations, and so on. But just because next gen donors are eager to give their talent doesn't mean it's easy for them to do so. Some find that organizations only see them as a source of financial capital, not human capital. Others find that nonprofits that do try to engage them do so only in superficial ways that make little use of their specific skills and experience. Either way, the result is that donors feel underutilized, undervalued, and even disrespected. Obviously, donors who feel that way are not donors for long.

The worst case is when next gen donors feel they are treated “like an ATM and not like a person.” They want to be taken seriously as capable contributors who have more than money to give. They want to be seen as having both “means and a brain,” to be appreciated for “the skills and the smarts that I hopefully bring to the table, not what kind of car I drive.”

Next gen donors coming from families with a philanthropic legacy experience their own take on this, as they want to be seen as more than just a formidable last name or inexhaustible revenue source. They want to be recognized for the professional competencies and expertise they can bring to the work. One such donor explains how he is just now starting to feel more appreciated and useful as he is getting more widely known for the talents he brings: “I know that people involved in the community see me for me. They don't see me as my mother's son or my grandfather's grandson; instead, I bring a lot to the table in my own regard. Even though I'm not yet 30 years old and don't have a lifetime of experience under my belt, I'm still valued in terms of who I am, what my experiences are, what I bring to the table on my own merits, rather than on the merits of my last name.”

This person still acknowledges that a famous last name and family legacy helps and that “I can tweak that to my advantage at some points.” But when he feels most valued—and most committed—is when it's about him, not his name.

Some especially thoughtful donors we talked with, though, raised a caution about this desire to give talent. At times, some next gen donors can begin to value their own skills and expertise more than others—occasionally more than the professional staff of the groups they support. One donor calls for more “humility” among her peers:

There's definitely a segment of us in my generation who are very much the “I've made lots of money and I'm going to be an angel investor and bring my business skills” [type]. I think there are pieces of that which are really good, but there are times when the nonprofit sector professionals are not really given the opportunity to show they know a lot about the field they're in, or the problems they're trying to solve in the world, because a donor has “a better idea.” I think that we have to be very careful because we do have a lot of power in that situation and, whether or not our ideas are good, they might be adopted because our money is needed in order to do something for that nonprofit.

More Than a Party Planner

Next gen donors want to give their whole selves in part because doing so is important to their emerging identities as donors. They reject traditional check‐writing because they want to make sure the organization appreciates their other assets as well and because—as we've seen—they want to get close to the real work organizations do. “It can feel like I'm giving my money and it's detached from me. So, what about my self‐worth, my identity, and who I am? How can I contribute the other things that are integral to my self‐worth and my value? If I'm just giving money, it can make me feel that my value is just associated with that, rather than my time and talent. My voice and my experience are of value, too.”

On‐the‐ball nonprofits are definitely looking to give their future major donors ways to engage beyond just opening their wallets. But this works best when nonprofits offer outlets for engagement appropriate to the donor's skill set, making it personally meaningful. Says one, “I really don't want to go out and volunteer a day to go feed people at a homeless shelter. It is just not where my skills are best used; it is not what I do best. What I'm very good at is selling, marketing, and communication. Those are areas that organizations need a lot of help with.”

The next generation is savvy enough to spot the types of token engagements often offered to younger donors—like asking their friends to give, or sitting on a powerless “youth advisory committee.”¹ They'd rather have the chance to be an advisor to the staff on, say, legal or technological questions—whatever best matches their skill sets. They'd rather serve the organization than sit on a board.

Mary Galeti, who we met in Chapter 3, talks passionately about this point, echoing what she's heard from many of her peers:

Young people are often relegated to a committee that plans a party for young people. Awesome. That is fun to do for a year or two, but many of my friends [say,] “I spent three years at McKinsey [consulting]. I have worked for three years at Goldman Sachs. Did you know that I am much smarter than throwing you a damn party? I have more to offer than that.” We want to feel valued for our talent and our time. Next generation donors want to see a clear path to where we are going and to understand what our role will be in that. I tell nonprofits that want to build a community of engaged young people. “Give us a clear call to action. Let's problem‐solve together. Tell us what you are working on, and let's work on this together. Tell me what you need me to do.” We want to be valued as professionals with time and talent to give.

It often comes back to respect for these donors. They want nonprofits to respect that their time is valuable. They want to be a valued and valuable partner. One next gen donor expressed, “I don't make my contribution by choosing the colors for a party or by figuring out what the gift bag is going be. That is not exciting to me. I haven't gone to stuff envelopes in this stage of my life because they make it into a big ladies' luncheon tea thing, and I'm like, I don't need this tea party. I don't have time to be here right now and do this. [I'd rather be] more involved, maybe as a very modest, humble thought‐partner.”

Jenna Segal, a Broadway producer, women's advocate, and next gen donor in New York City, devotes a significant percentage of her time to philanthropy and insists on not being treated merely as an ATM or a party planner. She has thought a lot about how some organizations utilize her talents better than others, and she commits her whole self to those that take her seriously.

Jenna Segal

I grew up in North Brunswick, New Jersey, a middle‐class town with a multicultural community of people. I'm married to someone I went to high school with, although I didn't connect with him until we reunited in New York years later. Between New Jersey and New York, I went to Washington, D.C., for college, as I have always been interested in politics. I discovered I was also interested in entertainment, and so after graduation I worked at CNN in Washington, D.C., MTV in Los Angeles, and then Nickelodeon in New York, where I felt like I had finally found the right city for me.

My parents don't have significant wealth but raised me to be philanthropic (even though that isn't the language they would use). My mother was an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher and administrator in a public school district for 40 years, and my father has always believed in giving. My in‐laws came with my husband as Refuseniks from Russia and built an incredible business which my husband now runs, and we are fortunate to have an opportunity to have philanthropic resources.

Finding the Right Fit, Even in Established Institutions

My on‐ramp to the philanthropic world came when I had children and was no longer working in an office full‐time. I deliberately made the time to do all the things I had always wanted to do but didn't have time to do before. I took a class at the Junior League of New York about nonprofit management and board governance that taught attendees how to be board members. It was the best thing I could have done before joining a board. It gave me the tools I needed to sit at a board table and not feel intimidated. That said, after the course I was assigned a board placement and joined a board whose mission I wasn't passionate about.

That experience taught me a valuable lesson. I discovered that one could be on a board that didn't align with one's interests, and I knew that would never again be me. Finding the right fit with an organization is essential because even when one is passionate about an organization's cause, board service can be hard work. There is a learning curve to figure out what being a board member means. You need to find your role as a board member, which means, on the one hand, not just sitting on a board passively and, on the other hand, not becoming an unpaid staff member involved in the day‐to‐day until you find how you're going to be involved. Going through this learning curve takes time and patience, and I only wanted to do that with organizations where my interests were aligned with their missions.

I've come to believe that finding the right fit with an existing organization is better than forming your own philanthropic venture. It can even improve those organizations. I like using my skills to help established institutions be recycled for the next generation. I feel it's such a waste to have people spend so much time and money building up an institution and then for the next generation to let it go underutilized. Instead, why don't we ask, “How can we build on the assets already invested?” Philanthropic resources are hard enough to find that communities can't afford to squander established institutions. Instead we need to reinvent them, reimagine them, and even recycle the aspects of those institutions that can be sustained and utilized in new ways by the next generation.

I've followed this approach in starting new programs at a few established institutions, bringing my skills and experience to bear. Unequivocally, my greatest success in philanthropy has been a partnership with the Jewish Community Center of Manhattan, located on the Upper West Side of New York City, where I initiated a program called Passport to engage people returning from Israel after the immensely successful Birthright Israel program. Birthright sends 18‐ to 26‐year‐olds for a free 10‐day trip to experience the land of Israel and to become connected to its heritage and people. Receiving a “passport” to take classes at the JCC upon their return from Israel, these younger members of the Jewish community become connected to an institution and come to see it as a place to connect with their peers and the community. Initially, the program began with 30 participants, but [it] has grown so much that now over 3,000 young people have come through the JCC's doors in the last five years.

Of course, I believe if you've started something—if you've planted the seed and helped it grow to be successful—you have a certain responsibility to continue watering it until you find a method for it to gain water without you. So I've stayed involved and invested in this program at the JCC for years in order to help it grow, and I've also asked the JCC for some agreements so that we both continue to invest in our side of the relationship. Thinking even bigger, I'd eventually like to see this Passport program replicated in JCCs nationally.

Playing the Right Role

From this venture, and from other work I've done over the years, I've learned a few things about successful nonprofit engagement. First, if I am thinking about becoming involved with an organization, I try to gauge the flexibility of that organization. Knowing now that I am good at bringing new ideas to existing institutions, I look for organizations that are not resistant to change. I ask, “Would you be willing to try this new idea or that?” and if the first answer I hear back is, “That wouldn't work here because...,” I see they might not be as open to new ideas nor a fit for my approach to funding. Looking at my role in the organization, I ask, “Am I here to catalyze change and be an activist or to rubber stamp the status quo?” If the latter, it's probably not a fit for me given what I've learned about my hands‐on approach as a funder.

If I do find an organization where I'm aligned with the mission and it is interested in trying out new ideas, then I turn to a second lesson I've learned. I try to come to an agreed‐upon set of expectations about what we're going to do together. For example, in the inaugural year of the JCC Passport initiative, we didn't have our expectations aligned, and I became frustrated at times when I expected something the organization didn't. In the second year, I worked with a consultant to help me draft a donor agreement with the JCC, where we put in writing what we both expected. We now have a shared set of expectations for what the realistic results of our partnership are, from quantitative performance to how the program staff will keep me in the loop to how much funding I'll provide and/or help them to raise from others.

If I'm not just investing in a program but joining the board of an organization, then I may ask additional questions. I usually start quietly, listening for at least two full meetings before I take on any issues. That's not to say I don't talk to staff or the board president after the meeting if I have questions; however, I learned it is easy to become unhelpful in a boardroom when I don't know the history of the organization or have a gauge for the players at the table and the roles they play. So now I survey the landscape first and then decide the role I want to play.

At times, I am not yet giving as much as other funders around the table. I'm humble to learn first from the more experienced board members while I offer my time and talents, and then I contribute when I'm more familiar with the organization and its needs. I believe this is particularly important for us as next gen donors, so I give my resources where it's most useful to the organization.

Not a Party Planner

Now that I'm nearly 40, I've grown enough to know that I look at the different roles I can play in philanthropy distinctly. I can donate, volunteer, or serve on a board, and I don't find they're all interchangeable. I feel my real contribution is thinking through the vision for a specific program and raising money toward that vision like I did for the JCC program. In those cases, I give of my time, talent, and treasure, and I get something back in what I learn and whom I can learn from. I'm interested in the goal and making an impact more than I am in the title of board member.

I have to be especially careful about finding the right way to be involved as a woman in philanthropy. When I join a board, without a doubt, the first thing they want me to do is fundraise or to be the committee chair of the fundraiser. I have produced a Broadway show and worked for MTV, so yes, I can plan a gala or throw a hell of a party, but that's not why I join a board, as that's not going to fulfill me. So now when I join a new board, I try to step back and speak little, and then only contribute to things that have nothing to do with fundraising at first. It's a choice I've made to shift my role and the way the organization perceives me. Bringing strategic ideas to an organization has moved me from being seen as “party planner” into other, more meaningful roles.

Ironically, after a significant number of years on a board, I would likely plan and execute a fundraiser for that organization. But that is because by then I would understand that nonprofit and its mission inside and out, and I'd be glad to use my knowledge and skills to champion it with a fundraiser. Until then, I think fundraising is the worst place to put someone who first joins the board of an organization because it sends the message that the organization doesn't care about who that board member is, what their skills are, and what they want to give or get as a volunteer. Instead, it conveys that the organization only cares about that board member's money. I want to say to organizations, “Your board members could just write you a check, but if they're spending time to serve on your board, it's because they're passionate about the mission and they want to have more meaningful involvement on a higher level.”

The Next Gen Way

In my experience, all next gen donors try to find the best way to be involved, a way that suits their skills. Actually, I've never met two young people who are philanthropic in precisely the same way. I'm not sure that was true with previous generations. There seems to have been more of a “way” to do philanthropy in the past. You were on a board and you called your friends for support. Now I think the major donors of my generation and the younger generation are all trying to figure out what works for them.

But despite the diversity of ways of being a donor, I think next gen donors share this desire to find the way that fits them best, including a desire to be actively involved. There are very few young people I know who write big checks who don't want some kind of substantial involvement with the organization to which they're writing that check. I wouldn't, for example, go into a clothing store and say, “I have $500 to give you; please just hand me $500 worth of clothes.” I guess it's that simple to me. I don't feel comfortable going to an organization and saying, “Here's $500; do whatever you want with it,” and then finding out later that that $500 might have been spent on things that I don't agree with, don't excite me, or don't make an impact.

It's funny that out in the community, I hear both that next generation donors don't want to be involved and I hear we want to be too involved. Personally, when I'm passionate about an organization's mission, I might be considered “too involved”; I might even be a pain in the ass! But ultimately, I'm going to be more involved and give more money. And I see this in other next gen donors as well. We're out there, and we are passionate if we're engaged in a meaningful way. If we are, we will be highly involved and generous donors for a long time.

Rules of Engagement

I would encourage nonprofit leaders to foster as much inclusion as possible for next generation donors. At least in the beginning, I wouldn't push next generation donors to fundraise or even give at a level that leads to discomfort financially. With next gen donors, it is a marathon, not a sprint. I think if you go for the sprint in terms of money, then you're going to wind up with a one‐time donation. If you go for the marathon of building trust in a relationship, it will be more fruitful for years to come.

And, of course, to bring us full circle, if a new next generation board member or donor has an idea for your nonprofit where they want to give money and get involved, please don't say, “We'll take a look at that.” It seems almost a catchphrase for nonprofits. I hear executive directors and development professionals say, “We'll take a look at that,” and then I never, ever hear back from them. Even if the answer is a disappointing one, like “Here's why we don't think this will work for our organization,” that at least communicates that you have respect for the person you are soliciting and that you care and have spent time thinking about what it was that they wanted to contribute.

I know some organizations don't want their board members or donors to be actively involved in the hands‐on work of the organization. They feel they have staff members to do that. Nonprofits may want my advice, but they didn't want me to be an employee. I understand that. But I also think it can keep organizations from making the most of their donors' passion, time, and talents—especially when working with next generation donors. Nonprofits need to listen to what our passions are and put our skills to good use. Doing so just might turn into something great for the organization. So many of my peers are extremely reliable and genuinely want to get involved in philanthropy in a hands‐on way. I know a lot of younger donors like this. And I'm proud to be one.

Jenna's sentiments speak to something we heard from many of her peers about a dilemma they face. Thoughtful engagement demands a lot of time, but it does so at a stage in their lives when this resource of free time is particularly scarce—as they launch careers, start families, and so on. This makes donors like Jenna very discerning. Yet they are unwilling to say the solution to this dilemma is to take the easy way out and just give money. They still want to go “all in”—giving time, talent, and treasure to one or two organizations—or not go at all.

The Value of Talent

Nonprofits and others doing good work for good causes certainly need money, especially the sort of significant and sustained gifts that Jenna says properly engaged next gen donors can give for the long run. But they still insist giving talent and treasure is better than treasure alone. One next gen member of a long‐standing wealthy family explained, “I don't want to underemphasize the importance of the financial support, because I think that's something that all of the organizations are in dire need of. But I think if you're only looking at it from the financial perspective, it leaves an incredible amount on the table, especially the degree to which time and talent can influence the treasure in terms of how that's allocated.”

Other donors see the value of talent in a more personal way, pointing to the special skills they can use—and eagerly want to use—in their philanthropic work. One talked about the value he can bring as a lawyer helping nonprofits work on their legislative advocacy: “For me, it gets personal. Since I have a law degree and I have all of these skills, this was something I wanted to do to make the world a better place.” Another emphasized being of specific use to the groups she funds: “I'm pretty useful at creating companies and building companies, and I imagine I can be pretty useful to nonprofits as well. So that's where I try to spend my time.”

You can see a familiar thread running through these statements: the desire for a close, highly engaged relationship with the groups they support, where they are helping to advance each organization's mission by lending meaningful expertise. Donors insist this relationship works best because they bring needed skills as well as funds to the table. Again, going “all in” is better for all involved.

Hadi Partovi believes in going all in. As an extremely successful tech entrepreneur and investor who was wealthy at a young age, Hadi knew he wanted to use this wealth to improve the world, especially the American education system, as his father had done in their native Iran. But unlike other wealthy young entrepreneurs he knows, he doesn't think his best strategy is to keep making more and more money. So after earning more than he and his family will ever need, he now gives more than just money to charity. Instead, he went all in by founding, funding, and running full‐time a nonprofit dedicated to making computer science education accessible to every child.

Hadi Partovi

I was born in Iran, in Tehran. My family—my mom, dad, my twin brother, and I—moved back and forth between the United States and Tehran when I was very young. We are one of the only Iranian families who left Iran and then returned in the late 1970s, at a time when most people were leaving the country. I was 6 years old when the Islamic Revolution changed the country, and war with Iraq broke out and changed our family life tremendously. When I was 11, we left Iran permanently and moved to the United States.

My father had been a founding professor at Iran's main technology university, and he is my role model. He completely lives his life for others, frankly in a mind‐blowing kind of way. As soon as we arrived in the United States and my father felt his family was safe, he decided to go back to Iran. He felt he had helped to found this university there and wanted to make sure the education system that he helped to set up didn't fall apart. So once we were settled in the United States, my father went back and spent another two years living apart from us, all to help the education system there. That left a big impression on me, obviously. I think every way he's lived his life has been dedicated to education and to helping others. His journey has informed mine.

Early Success in Tech

When I was 10, my father had brought home a computer, a Commodore 64, possibly one of the only PCs in the entire country. He said, “This doesn't have any software or games or apps,” but he gave my brother and me a book to learn BASIC programming. Then, when I was a young teenager in the United States, my friends would get summer jobs working at restaurants or gas stations, and I'd get high‐paying coding jobs at tech companies. I later majored in computer science at Harvard University and got an early start in the tech industry working at Microsoft.

My career since has basically been as an entrepreneur and then eventually as an investor. I started two tech companies, Tellme Networks and iLike. One was really successful; one was almost successful. I have been very lucky as an investor and advisor to tech start‐ups and to be early on the ground floor at a number of the most successful start‐ups, particularly Facebook, Dropbox, and Airbnb.

I have always had the philosophy that beyond a certain amount, making money is about helping the world. Once my own personal financial needs are met and my family is taken care of, I'd rather use the money I earn to help make the world a better place. So that is how I live my life. And again, those values come from my father.

I started making small gifts a few years ago and realized as a new philanthropist that giving was really hard. I was asking questions such as, “What were good nonprofits to support? How does one decide where you're going to make more of an impact?”

In the investment world, I know how to invest in start‐ups and tech stock, but in the world of nonprofits, the science of it or the measurement of even just how you report on it is much less well developed because there isn't a standard for the bottom line of a nonprofit. For a for‐profit, the bottom line ends up being earnings or stock price, but for nonprofits, there is no standard of how you measure success.

Going All In

I started out writing checks and, together with my twin brother, started a donor‐advised fund. But over time, I've realized that what I can do by giving my time and talent is far, far greater than what I do by just writing checks. The primary way I've done this is by starting a nonprofit called Code.org with my brother. I now work on Code.org full‐time—and it is both my full‐time job and my life's mission.

Ironically, I didn't start out with a grandiose plan for Code.org; rather, it started out as a one‐off project to create a video—the video that is still on the Code.org homepage—to promote computer science and convince people that our schools should teach it. The launch was beyond my wildest dreams: That video had 10 million views in a week, and we had tens of thousands of schools and educators reach out asking for help. Now, at the time, Code.org was literally just me and some volunteers who helped with the video, so there was no staff to respond when those 10,000+ educators reached out to us. I quickly realized this needed a whole organization.

Three years later, Code.org is now a 50‐person organization whose mission is to help bring computer science to every school in the country. We believe that every school should teach computer science and every child should have the opportunity to learn the basics about how technology works and how it is changing the world around us.

While I have other interests, I would say 95 percent of my time, talent, and financial resources now go to Code.org. My brother and I together have given about $2 million to Code.org and then, most important, it has been my full‐time job for almost three years. Choosing to go all in with my time was a big deal. Considering how well I was doing as an investor in technology, taking time out from that very lucrative career to run this nonprofit full‐time is a pretty big financial sacrifice for me—or a financial contribution, whichever way you look at it.

I remember very well, before I started doing this, somebody said to me, “The most impactful thing you can do is to make a lot of money—because you're clearly good at that—and then give that money away.” But I believe the exact opposite. If everybody followed that advice, you'd have only “B‐team” players left in the nonprofit world, while all the best entrepreneurs stayed focused on making money.

So I both fund this nonprofit and I run it. Most people who run a nonprofit fundraise for it but don't also give substantially to it. Most people who are wealthy enough to write big checks to nonprofits start a foundation to give the money, and hire somebody else to run the organizations they fund. I have always felt, coming from the tech industry, that this wasn't effective. Many of the most successful companies of our time now are tech companies. And you often see the entrepreneurs who created those tech start‐ups become successful and start a nonprofit, but then they don't themselves run it. And the nonprofits don't end up having the greatness of the actual tech companies. Given my success as a technologist, I knew I could take this same path. But I felt that actually spending my time on the nonprofit as well as my money, and hiring software engineers and the best and the brightest talent from the tech industry to solve this problem for the world, would be a greater contribution. So now Code.org is the number one place I put my money, and it's also where I invest my time and talent. I think this will really help Code.org have an impact.

A Talent‐Focused Model

At Code.org, we focus on one end goal: every school in the United States teaching computer science to a diverse student population. We line everything up to achieve that, especially the talent we hire. For example, our staff is now at 50 people, and we interviewed 1,000 to get the right and the best 50. We have engineers that came from Amazon or Microsoft or Dropbox or Google. That's not normal for nonprofits. Even our administrative staff is so skilled that they write the HTML code for our website. As an investor, I have always felt that amazing teams deliver amazing results, and I think that should be true in nonprofits as well as for‐profits.

Culturally, we are not an education nonprofit that happens to do a little bit of technology stuff. We are through‐and‐through a tech company, and how we do what we do is very different than most nonprofits. Most nonprofits don't have a 15‐person engineering team, but for us, we see the need for this team because we are investing in our end goal. Our engineering team boosts and amplifies everything we do—from curricula to political advocacy to recruiting teachers—by constructing automated systems to go to scale. For example, we are currently training 2,000 teachers a month. It's a human‐capital‐intensive thing to train teachers through in‐person trainings, but we're operating at a larger scale than most teacher education institutions in the country because we are using technology to do it.

So Code.org is a different model for a nonprofit, and we are starting to see evidence that this model will have a greater impact. Some education nonprofits in the United States have an expensive contribution‐to‐cost ratio. For example, it takes $1,000 per student for one educational nonprofit I know of to have an impact, whereas with Code.org, it costs $0.56 to impact one student.

This impact we are having is so phenomenal compared to other places I've donated to in the past. The evidence of our impact just further reinforces my desire to give most of my money here as well as my time and talent. I put my money into Code.org not only because it's my own nonprofit but because I see the impact and results we get in the United States are so much higher than at other U.S. nonprofits and because I believe in the model and team we have developed.

Changing the System

The system‐wide approach taken by Code.org is essential, I think. When I started this work, my brother gave me extremely valuable advice. Initially, I was thinking I could create a school or a summer camp or a club in my neighborhood, see how it goes, and expand from there. That's how most nonprofits start. They start in their local community, find a solution that works, and then talk about replication. But my brother, making a tech analogy, said, “If Steve Jobs were looking at this, he would start by thinking about what the world is going to look like 20 or 30 years from now, and then he would plot a line from here to there.” That completely changed my view of what the pieces are that need to be in place to achieve our goal. As a result, we don't run any local schools; instead, we think about the entire school system on a national level, and we take a very different approach about how to change the education system because of this broader view.

At Code.org, we go beyond both the classic approaches of “giving a man a fish” and “teaching him how to fish.” Rather, we teach the schools how to teach the students how to fish. That's why we have the double benefit of scalability because we do not need to pay the costs every day of what it takes to run a school. We just pay the cost of what it takes to train the teachers, and then the school system is powering the engine to do the rest of the work. That's why it's so much more efficient and systemic. We focus on creating the talent, not running the institutions—on training the teachers to teach the students so they'll be prepared for the world 20 years from now. The incredible support, sacrifice, and passion of these teachers have been critical to our success. We're not the first movement to try to improve the education system, but we may be the first one that can legitimately claim to be teacher‐powered. The support of teachers is what has made Code.org and the computer science movement a real success.

To build a new education system for 20 years from now, it also means reaching out to students, parents, principals, school districts, state governments, and the federal government. There's a role for all of those parties to play to get computer science into the curriculum. You can't put it in there unless everybody is on board. And the policies around these computer science classes matter a great deal also. For example, we know that tech has a diversity problem in that there just aren't a lot of girls or African Americans or Hispanic kids taking computer science courses. We've actually done tests in Maryland that show how we might address this problem. We looked at one district that said a computer science class can count toward graduation requirements and another school district that didn't have that policy, and we compared the number of girls taking the courses. In the district where the class didn't count, 15 percent of the students in the class were girls. In the district where it did count, that number was 50 percent. So a small policy change can dramatically change the gender mix of students taking computer science classes, and a similar growth was apparent in the ethnic representation in the computer science classes, too. Again, to achieve these results we need all parties on board, so we end up having to work at many levels.

Real Success Is About Impact on the World

I mentioned earlier that I was inspired by Steve Jobs's growth mindset. I'm also impressed by Bill Gates, and he serves as a role model for me in deciding to work so hard in my day‐to‐day job running Code.org. Like me, Bill Gates contributes his time and talent, as well as his money, to philanthropy. But what has been most incredible for me to see is the amount of drive he puts into it. This is the person who least needs to work in the world, the wealthiest man. He does not need anything. Yet he works extremely hard, full‐time, on philanthropy. And his philanthropy is not something where he's just giving money and letting the rest of it take care of itself. He's giving his personal time and expertise as well and sticking with it and ensuring its impact.

I'm also motivated by Bono. For most musicians or celebrities who give money to charity, the charity is secondary. But for Bono, the music is there to fund the charity. The entire reason that he's continuing to go on tours is to enable his successful charitable work and trying to eradicate AIDS and poverty. This resonates with me because, again, I feel that after I have a certain amount of money, any other money I make is for giving back. For me, any continued investing I do is to make money to donate to Code.org, and of course most of my time is spent on that as well.

I think every human struggles with the question of why am I here? What the hell is the point? For me, what matters is not defined by how much money I make but by how much impact I have on the world and what good I leave in the world that wasn't there before. I want to try to derive happiness from the impact I can have—not from what I get but from what I give, especially my time and talent.

Hadi Partovi clearly believes in talent. He believes in using talent—in the form of trained teachers—as the lever for systemic change in the education system. He believes in teaching the skills necessary for young people to develop the talent needed in today's economy. He believes in hiring the best talent for the tech‐inspired nonprofit he founded and runs. And he believes his own talent is the most valuable gift he can give, even compared to the millions of dollars he's invested as a donor.

Hadi is a great illustration of a belief in talent that we heard over and over again across the full spectrum of donors we talked with—from inheritors to first‐generation wealth creators. For those coming into their roles as the next gen in established giving families, this belief in talent was often tied to their desire to be seen as more than just a famous last name or a cash machine. For those whose entrepreneurial success had brought them the resources to be big donors, the passion for giving talent was perhaps even more pronounced.

Only a few of the donors take this belief as far as Hadi does, devoting their talent full‐time as employees of the groups they fund. But nearly every donor talked in some way about wanting to make use of individual distinctive abilities in his or her giving.

What Does This Mean?

There's an old adage that says “throwing money at a problem” is not a good solution. Doing so is easy but rarely effective. Our world has a growing list of thorny problems, and the next generation of major donors has a staggering amount of money to throw at them. But next gen donors believe that old saying. They believe social change requires human and financial capital, and they stand ready and willing to give both.

The reservoir of skills and expertise these donors have to give remains relatively untapped. Anyone concerned about solving social problems or improving nonprofit effectiveness would do well to figure out how to make use of next gen talents as well as their time and treasure. Not just because doing so would mean they give more of the treasure but also because talent can be, in fact, pretty useful. Jenna's story of breathing new life into established organizations and Hadi's story of using talent to have measurable impact on the education system are good evidence of this.

We should also remember that next gen donors are at a point in their lives when they are finding their philanthropic identities. As we will explore, many inheritors are chomping at the bit to go out and “plow their own trail,” or to take over the work of improving their families' trails. And we've heard how earners like Hadi believe the same personal qualities that made them so successful so young in life can make them successful as a new breed of engaged and entrepreneurial donors. For both inheritors and earners, their abilities are a bigger part of their identity than their money. This is not surprising, as Gen Xers and Millennials have been raised to know that they are worth more than their wealth. We shouldn't be shocked, then, to hear how much these donors despise being treated like ATMs and, for women in particular, being seen only as fundraisers and party planners rather than as people with experience, training, and competency.

On the other hand, nonprofits and other ventures seeking to solve our difficult social problems need money. Some might even say they need that money—especially the level of money they can get from these donors—much more than they need skills from donors. Nonprofits might even resent having to spend precious staff time and resources to create “meaningful” volunteer opportunities for their biggest donors when they should spend those resources providing service for their needy clients or on advocacy for their policy proposals.

A way through this quandary, without resentment on either side, can be found in the idea of respect from both sides for the other. Organizations can respect their major donors as more than a last name or a bank account. Donors can respect organizations by not “holding a check over their heads” and by listening, not telling. We heard from some donors who recognize this need for humility and a focus on what is best for the organization. Said one, “I don't think that I have the solution to every problem or that if I just had more time I could be really making the organizations way more effective, but I definitely could play a role and could have an impact based on a variety of my skills.”

Next gen donors who are so eager to feel appreciated for their talents and to contribute those in meaningful ways run the risk of falling into a position of entitlement and unhelpful privilege. To avoid this, donors need to listen to and respect what organizations say they need donors to do, not just show up with their quiver of specific skills and say, “Find a way for me to use these.” This respectful understanding will be easier as donors get closer to the organizations they seek to help. Some donors we talked with were already trying to take this humbler approach, even honing their talent at stuffing envelopes because that is what their partner grantees needed most at the time, knowing they can ramp up to more skills‐based help when needed.

On the nonprofit side, we know there are plenty of organizations out there creatively finding ways to utilize the talents of their younger donors.² Unfortunately, the evidence suggests this is not exactly a widespread trend. First, while many nonprofits talk the good Millennial talk, espousing the importance of engaging the next generation of leaders, most have not actually brought next gen donors onto their boards or given them skills‐based, hands‐on volunteer roles. For example, a recent BoardSource study found that only 16 percent of board members nationwide were under 40. The good news is that this number is on the rise.³

Even fewer nonprofits have set up new and creative ways to engage next gen donors—those who will be their major donors for the next several decades—in the talent‐focused, respectful, and meaningful ways these donors want. We know many nonprofit leaders are aware that they need to do so, as this is a common question we get when speaking to nonprofits about our research. The question they have is how to do it.

Next gen donors like Jenna Segal have a lot of suggestions for these nonprofits looking to engage them better. Beyond bringing next gen donors onto boards in careful ways like she suggests, and beyond the cliché approach of getting a Millennial to set up your Twitter feed, several ideas came out of our interviews and from our own experience in the field. Most obviously, as Jenna noted, nonprofits must be responsive when next gen donors ask to give their time and talent. Don't just put them off; meet with them, hear them out, and ask questions. Consider a small‐scale trial of their ideas before rejecting them out of hand, or maybe find a way for them to take the lead in exploring how they can best plug into the organization's work. If their ideas are off‐base, better to be candid with them about why you think so instead of ignoring them or offering vague promises of “we'll take a look at that.”

Also, rather than just giving next gen donors a symbolic or token seat on the board, put them in the driver's seat on a special task force that is charged with solving some real problem facing the organization and that requires donors to use their skills to make a serious impact. Better yet, given their penchant for engaging with peers (the subject of Chapter 7), give them the freedom to corral the talents of other next gen donors in service of a task. This requires nonprofits to rethink how they go about solving internal problems or developing new programs. It means approaching those tasks in a collaborative way with engaged next gen donors working alongside staff. Reimagining in this way might pay off in more ways than one.

Not all next gen donors need to go “all in” in the way that Hadi Partovi does, actually running the organizations they fund. But finding better ways for organizations to make good use of the talents of next gen donors seems an essential step in addressing our pressing social challenges. At a minimum, doing so will lead next gen donors to give more. At most, it will marshal the expertise of those donors to expand the organization's impact. Ideally, it will do both.

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Table of Contents for CHAPTER 6: More Than an ATM

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Valuing Me for Me

More Than a Party Planner

The Value of Talent

What Does This Mean?

Notes

Table of Contents for
CHAPTER 6: More Than an ATM