As a young child, Timon was unconcerned about the future, experiencing the wonder and excitement of his day-to-day activities.

When he turned six and went to school, his parents and teachers constantly reminded him that the purpose of school was to earn good grades so he could secure a brighter tomorrow.

Afraid of performing poorly on tests, he soon felt stressed and thoughts of the weekend sustained him. On his days off he didn’t have to think about grades.

Despite his natural inclination, Timon slowly accepted the values of the adults – that grades are the measure of success – and worked harder and harder.

By the time he entered high school, Timon had fully internalized the formula for success: sacrifice present enjoyment in order to be happy in the future, a primer for an unhappy life.

The gifted person who tells this troubling and all too common story is Tal Ben-Shahar, the most sought after professor at Harvard University. Two out of ten students at Harvard take his course on happiness.

The most popular class in the school’s history draws over 850 students, who want to avoid becoming Timon, the unsuccessful, successful person.

Shahar’s class helps highly successful, stressed-out students find the answer to what he deems the most important question of all: how can we help ourselves, others, individuals, communities, and society to become happier?

Since I couldn’t attend class, I read his book, Happier, published by McGraw Hill, and immediately understood why students are elbowing their way into his class. It has the potential to change lives.

The breezy book looks at the principles that serve as the foundation for a happier more fulfilling life, and frames the pursuit and purpose of happiness in a light that I’d never seen.

Every self-sacrificing, over-achieving, high school student should give this book a look, same for every hard-driving parent.

While Timon didn’t much like his classes or extracurricular activities, Timon devoted himself to them. He was driven by the need to create a star-studded resume, and when the pressure became overwhelming he told himself that he would begin to have fun once he got into college.

Timon got into the college of his choice. Joyful and relieved, he could not choke back the tears as he read the acceptance letter. Now, he told himself, “I can finally be happy.”

The relief was short-lived. A couple of months went by, and Timon was again gripped by the same sense of anxiety he had been feeling for years. He feared that he would not be able to compete with the best students, and if he couldn’t compete with them, how would he get the dream job.

His rat race continued through his four years of college. Again, he worked to build an impressive resume, not because he really wanted to participate in forming a student organization or become president of another, but because those activities would look good to a future employer.

Timon had his share of good times. Every now and then, particularly after handing in a paper or an exam he felt good. The pleasant moments that came from being relieved of a burden were short-lived; his workload built up again and along with it, his anxiety.

In the spring of his senior year, Timon received a job offer from a prestigious firm. He happily accepted it. Now, he thought, “I will finally be able to enjoy my life.” Soon, however, he realized that he did not enjoy his eighty-hour workweek.

Once more, he told himself that he must sacrifice for the time being, just until he was established and secure in his career. Once in a while, he felt good – when he got a raise, a large bonus, a promotion or when people were impressed by his job title. That sense of fulfillment quickly disappeared and the drudgery returned.

After years of hard work and long hours, he was offered a partnership in the firm. He vaguely remembered thinking that he would be content if he became a partner – but he was not.