That’s what a student with red-rimmed eyes asked me last week. She stood before me, distressed about her average (perfectly acceptable) grade on a paper assignment, visibly willing her tears away. I said her paper was just fine, it’s simply that I reserve the top 10% of grades for students who do a standout job, going beyond the requirements or looking at the topic in a novel way.
“But that’s not fair,” she said. “Can’t we all be above average?”
I felt like I was watching the “WHY?!” Nancy Kerrigan video play out before me (if you were, like, a year old when this event happened, start the video at 1:55 for a refresher; man, you make me feel old). I alternately wanted to shake my student and say, “Snap out of your self-pity!” and then to hug her while cooing, “I know. It sucks. I get it. This hurts.”
The thing is, I do get it. I’ve felt it. I sometimes still feel it. I mean, why can’t we all be above average? Well, because, obviously, we can’t.
So the real question is, why did we get it in our heads in the first place that we could be?
There simply aren’t enough ribbons to go around. (Photo credit: ideath)
Partly it’s due to the self-esteem movement – you know, the campaign that had you winning “Participant Ribbons” rather than real trophies in grammar school – but even more importantly, it’s due to our natural cognitive development.
During adolescence, we all think we’re special. No one has to tell us we are, we simply believe it. Nobody has ever had these thoughts before, we tell ourselves. Journal, dear journal, you are witnessing the dawn of a magnificent mind afire. With thoughts like these, I’m destined to take the world by storm.
Don’t believe me? Then you haven’t been reading many blogs.
The thing is, it’s healthy and normal to think this way. For a while. It’s called the personal fable and it’s part of normative adolescent egocentrism. Psychologists debate its origins, but it may arise as a way of coping with individuation – the process of becoming your self, a being who is separate from those around you.
Sound familiar?
I think it should, because that’s what you guys are grappling with every. single. day. I watch it in my office. I read it in your blogs. I see it in our class discussions. Figuring out who you are – and doing so independently of the subtle, all-encompassing, often-overlooked influence of your parents – is what today’s twenties are all about.
So here’s what I believe: the personal fable and egocentrism aren’t just an adolescent thing. They’re here and they’re now.
And they’re screwing you over. Two times over.
They’re paralyzing your quest for a fulfilling life and career, coming and going:
- When the personal fable is in full effect, you’re afraid of making a misstep that would prove you aren’t actually special. I remember thinking just this in my early 20s: what if I leave my Ivy League “I can prove I’m smart by just saying where I go to school” grad school and simply become a person with a job? Who am I then? And what will have happened to the “mind afire?” I’m too special, too unique, too destined for greatness for such an end. I know I’m not satisfied with my current life, but if I make the leap, take the chance, reach out for the life I really want…<pause for a freak out>…I might end up realizing that everything I’ve believed about myself has been a complete and utter lie.
- Then, as the personal fable wanes, you give up the will to strive for a better life. Wait, I’m not actually special? you begin to think. Everyone else thinks like this, too? Crap. Then who am I to believe I can do anything wonderful with my life? Who am I to bother to fight for fulfillment and to try to “do what I love”? That’s impractical. That’s unreasonable. Best to just suck it up and take a cubicle job and sell my soul down a river of memos and meetings and incessant cesspools of insipid, pithy emails.
The thing is, both ways of thinking are flawed. We’re not all above average. Statistically, that simply doesn’t work. But we do all have the right to a life that gives us a sense of purpose and passion and meaning. There’s no quota on that; no requirement that only 10% of us get to engage in that search.
In other words, when my student was standing before me last week, ineffectually blinking back her tears, the urgency welling within her wasn’t about a paper. It wasn’t about her performance. It wasn’t, even, about being “average.” It was about being blocked from a life worth living.
And so I said, “No, we can’t all be above average. But we can all live extraordinary lives. If we choose to.”
She stared at me for a long moment, the tears ceasing to flow. I could see the epiphany creeping into her. Inch by inch. Cell by cell. Atom by atom. These are the teaching moments we live for, through many a botched lecture, through many an awkward class discussions, through many a hand-cramped session of grading.
Finally, she spoke.
“Uh. So what about my grade?”
Or, we could all move to Lake Wobegon, where all the children are above average. Great post – this also explains the mid-life crisis, when you realize you are NOT actually destined for greatness.
Oh yes, Lake Wobegon would be the dream, now wouldn’t it?
You’re right about the ultimate source of the mid-life crisis, and about all crises, which occur sporadically throughout our lives. I was taken aback a few years ago when it dawned on me that I’ll never be in the Olympics (too old) nor be allowed to win Miss America (I’m married). I mean, really, were either of them realistic (or desirable) goals of mine? Uh, no, but something about youth made me feel that all was possible. A crisis is waking up one day and realizing how much simply isn’t possible any more. And then getting OK with that.
Thanks for writing!
Hey, you’re still well within range to be an Olympic curler!
And I do live in the right climate to practice it (yes, I am getting bitter about the lack of spring in Maine, as I do every year at this time…)
I have now realised I am not destined for greatness, but I cling to the hope that my friend-egg sandwich may be.
Hey, you never know, right?
To be fair, even without the “participation” ribbons we all still go through that egocentrism. My school was having none of that feel-good hippie crap, yet I still remember going through a period of thinking that my every action and notion was some new, glorious event never before seen in the history of mankind. Luckily, for those of us who were a bit on the dorky side, that perception gets knocked out of you right quick by your a-hole cohort. OR some people turtle in response and shut the whole world out, forever assuring themselves they were too unique and awesome to be understood. We all know these people, and they all own a set of nunchaku, shuriken, and/or a katana.
Also, my insipid emails aren’t just pithy, they’re downright brilliant. There’s a bi-annual certification process in my office that requires me to be an incessant nag to the entire office for about a month and a half. During that time, I change my signature line to:
Darth Monte
Star Destroyer Schmecky & Schmecky*
Imperial District of Alaska
I have an image of the Galactic Empire insignia attached and I go on and on about how the emperor is displeased and if they don’t find those ‘droids we’re looking for I’m banishing them to Hoth. It’s the little things that keep me going…
*Not my law office’s real name. Thanks Conan!
You sound like one heck of a fun co-worker to have! And you’re right about those jerky peers who give us a sense of just how NOT special we are (my fave was how me and my group and friends was always called “conceited” in middle school and I had no idea what it meant…I came home and asked my mom about it; she just looked at me and said, “Oh honey…”). I think I took the hole-up-with-my-journal-and-use-these-abuses-as-more-of-a-reason-to-feel-unique approach.
Bahaha. Loved the last line, Rebecca. Great post.
Great post – very thought provoking! Indeed we can’t all be above average at everything and need to take defeat gracefully. However, I don’t think this should get us down as we can also try to find a special area that we can excel in.
Thank you for the kind words. I completely agree that we can all excel in some area, even if it that doesn’t mean being the “world’s best” at that thing. Most importantly, we can create a fulfilling, meaningful, impassioned life regardless of how we rank against those around us. Thanks for stopping by and commenting!
This is a great post! And really timely for me, considering the decisions I need to make right now. I’m going to keep this post in mind as I reflect on my choices in grad schools. I’m especially glad to see this outlined without the focus on Participation trophies; we all knew that the Participation trophies didn’t signify a prize.
Those participation trophies were rubbish indeed. I’d love to read more about your decision-making process about grad schools – have you posted about that anywhere? I always just see your thoughtful, incredibly well-researched posts (which are single-handedly keeping me abreast of key news, I might add).
Rebecca, this makes me think of the “cupcake” argument I used to hear on my republican station, which I listened to for humor, about how each and every student should get a cupcake, how every child should get an award, that every student is special and deserves an “A.” I see your point about setting standards and making your students go beyond to get the highest grade. I have to admit my prevailing thought was, “Hey, you brat, you got into Bates. That in itself is an accomplishment.” It’s early, so I may be missing the message of this article. As always…well written.
The cupcake argument – that’s a good one! While I do believe it’s healthy to raise children to not feel badly about themselves – of course! – I do worry that we try to downplay comparisons so much when kids are little that they can’t handle those comparisons when they inevitably occur as they get older. If we all learned to be OK with being average in some domains of life, it might take the sting out of that reality and we could create amazing, satisfying lives without feeling the need to “Be #1.” Thanks for reading, as always – much appreciated!
Yea we cant all be above average, “But we can all live extraordinary lives. If we choose to.” I like this, I think it’s a healthier way to go about living our lives. I will do my best with what I’ve got to work with
Thanks Raimy. I always enjoy hearing your thoughts!