Throughout my educational career, there have been two main observations about me. I have noticed recently that these two traits are constant in my life - and they're much more likely to be remarked upon in a school setting than at an office or in a work setting.
1. "You're tall."
Yes, thanks, I know. I've had a good thirty-three years to notice, and I have definitely noticed. Here are some examples of times that I have noticed this particularly hard: on an airplane (hooray for long thigh-bones that put my knees directly into the kidneys of the person in front of me!), in the doctor's office (a very helpful medical assistant once announced to the doctor's office at large that my height was "five feet, twelve inches!" Really? Wouldn't that be six feet? And don't worry, I was having especially good posture that day. Usually, I'm five feet, eleven inches.), when small children scream it out in the middle of the supermarket/public place (which has happened twice, and both of those small children were little bastards for their phrasing, and their parents are worse for letting them scream things like that in public places) and when I'm looking down at the top of your head. Because generally speaking, about two-thirds of the people I meet are shorter than me. Especially older men. I'm not sure why that is. At any rate, I'm accustomed to it. I was 5'7" in the fifth grade. I've learned not to wear heels to job interviews or at work because that makes me intimidating. Do not worry, faithful public, I get it. I'm a giantess and it's apparently okay for you to remark upon it, loudly and with very little tact.
If that sounds testy, it probably is. But it's the same thing to me as if someone walked up to you and commented upon your most obvious physical attribute, in the basest and most idiotic way possible. "You have a wart on your nose." "You have big feet." (Actually, I have big feet, too, but I figure that's the only thing keeping my gargantuan frame upright.) It's not pleasant, but you sort of have to marvel at people's tactlessness and move on. It's not really a teachable moment. Because if you're in your late teens, early twenties, your sixties, whatever - teaching you tact at this point is probably a lost cause.
As unrelentingly fun as all that is, it's the other observation that's been making me most uncomfortable.
2. "You're smart."
Now, I have to say that that's a very nice thing to say to somebody. But it makes my heart stop just a little when people say that (and not only because the sentence, in its natural form, is usually "You're smart; you can explain this to me"). It's a personal thing that dates way back to probably elementary school, when being smart was a Very Bad Thing. If you were too smart, people looked at you funny and then there was meanness. So my knee-jerk reaction is to play it down. If they want me to explain something to them, I deny all credit for being smart and just say "well, I think somebody explained it to me really well" or something like that. It bothers me that even now, in my thirties, I feel the need to be dismissive of my brains at school. I have no problem tooting my own brain horn in the workplace (probably usually without cause), but at school, I feel the need to be just as dumb as everybody else. And I realize that if I were at a better institution of higher learning, I would not be smart - I'd probably be the dumbest person in the room. It all has to do with the particular learning environment, I guess. I can't own or be proud of my smarts because I'm secretly worried that people I will probably never see again will think I'm weird. And then I also secretly start worrying that there's a physical manifestation of my smarts: like the guy in Megamind. I might have a huge blue cranium and nobody's pointed it out to me.
Although given their stance on my height, I probably shouldn't worry.
No comments:
Post a Comment