In the coming month, millions of graduates will be marching down the aisles of academe to the strains of Pomp and Circumstance. My son will be one of them when he receives his Bachelor of Music diploma from the University of Texas.

Many wellwishers tell him he’s lucky. He doesn’t have a job waiting, exactly. But he’ll be able to pay the rent as a working musician by adding to his studio of private students and cobbling together a variety of paying gigs. And, above all, he’ll be doing what he loves because he’s “found his passion.”

Despite its legions of proponents, the concept of “finding your passion” is highly overrated. In fact, I think it actually prevents many young adults from settling on a career path and, ultimately, deriving satisfaction from work. The quest for a passion has led many of the perfectionists I see to search endlessly for the “right” job or graduate program, never actually committing to a course of action.

Cal Newport, a Georgetown University computer science professor, agrees. His newest book, So Good They Can’t Ignore You, sums up his philosophy in the subtitle: Why Skills Trump Passion in the Quest for Work You Love. He debunks what he calls The Passion Hypothesis (“The key to occupational happiness is to first figure out what you’re passionate about and then find a job that matches this passion.”) and proposes that passion develops from working hard and mastering a skill. In other words, fulfillment from a job doesn’t just happen. It can come from almost anything you commit yourself to doing well if you devote your time to becoming an expert at it.

This should be good news for the high-strung millenials whose resumes are packed with evidence of their ambition. Double majors. Summer internships. Community service. These twentysomethings are no strangers to hard work. They’re used to putting in the hours, whether for extracurricular activities or heavy courseloads, to reach a goal. If they practice what Newport preaches, working hard at whatever job they choose may bring them satisfaction—and, yes, in time, even passion. But they need to set aside another millenial characteristic—the need for instant gratification— and remember the value of practice in developing a skill.

Newport proposes replacing the potentially limiting search for a passion with what he calls The Craftsman Mindset:  “Be so good they can’t ignore you.”  You can avoid a lot of frustration by focusing on improving your performance at work instead of fretting about what the job is doing for you.

Musicians exemplify the craftsman mentality. Consider the process my son went through to develop into a professional trumpet player. When he took his first lesson at nine, he could barely blow a note. For months his playing sounded like a herd of wounded pachyderms on their way to the elephant graveyard. He didn’t show any evidence of natural talent, or of passion, for that matter. But he was curious and, even as a preteen, exceptionally dedicated. He stuck with it, studied with a succession of increasingly accomplished teachers, endured lip-numbing drills to improve his technique, and in time (after years of playing) began to see results. His commitment to his craft grew along with his proficiency.

Unlike most college graduates entering the workforce, my son already has thousands of hours of experience under his belt. So, yes, it’s fair to say he’s pursuing his passion, having earned it after twelve years of focused dedication to his craft. But even so, as with any job, his work still requires him to endure more than a little tedium as a means to doing what he loves. He’s had to perform in the pit for about five Italian operas too many, in his opinion; play the annoying, same three notes over and over as sideman for a cowboy funk band in a smoky bar where the musicians don’t even get a free beer; and give lessons to indifferent middle school students whose trumpet stylings call to mind his own early struggles.

He’ll also be sweating in the sweltering Austin heat on graduation night, wearing a tuxedo under his black gown as he performs with the UT Wind Ensemble.  Along with the standard, boring graduation march, they’ll be playing The Eyes of Texas while a backdrop of fireworks lights up the Tower. (Everything really is bigger in Texas.)

But I don’t think he’ll mind this last performance of his college career even though it will be unbearably hot and musically uninspiring. After all, it’s a paying gig.