“You have great potential!”
I was told over and over again when I was in elementary school, that I had such great potential. Usually, after I received a bad grade on a test or report card. I remember the comments made by almost every teacher from kindergarten to eighth grade. Were the teachers telling me that I was currently a loser? That I could be a winner? If only?
Wayne has such potential, if only he would be quiet and listen. Wayne has such great potential, if only he wouldn’t talk so much. Wayne has the potential to be a good student, if only he wouldn’t ask so many questions. Yes, I had a teacher say that!
My parents would also echo the potential theme. I now know they were trying to encourage me to act differently. To pay attention. To be intentional. To get better. To be the little kid, they knew I could be if only I would try harder.
I remember once, in second grade, when the class was taking a math test, and I saw a friend that seemed to be struggling. I got up and went over to him and started to explain how to subtract nine from seventeen, a bit too loudly since the teacher raised her head from the book she was reading, and told me to, “Shut up and sit down.” In my own seat.
Ok, maybe she didn’t say those words, but that’s what I heard. The next moment she asked me to bring my test paper forward. Without even looking at my answers, she marked it with an “F.” Her reasoning was I must have cheated since I was looking at another student’s test paper.
Her next action surprised even me. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out the stack of report cards for the class. She looked through the batch and found mine. She opened it and marked a big red “D” for my behavior grade.
We had a behavior grade and a citizenship grade for each marking period. The best I could figure was that the behavior grade was for how well we listened to her and the citizenship grade was for how well we helped others. I suppose I thought I should have gotten an “A” in citizenship along with the “D” in behavior since I was helping another little kid.
At the end of the marking period, we needed to get our report cards signed by our parents. I still remember looking at that red “D” and thinking my teacher was extremely mad when she wrote it. It was in red and bold. That red “D” looked out of place with the other grades written in blue ink.
That was my life, as a little boy in grade school. Mostly, I was told to be quiet and sit down. It seems I was a bit too enthusiastic? Oh, the disappointment my teachers expressed to my parents and me, how I have such great potential if only I would be quiet, sit down and pay attention.
The irony is when I arrived in high school. The teachers were attempting to encourage all of us to stand up and speak to the class. Share our thoughts. Don’t be shy. Just stand up. Talk. You can do it.
Too funny
In the same manner that teachers just knew I had great potential, others seem to have a very clear view of what you should do with your life.
I was able to see mathematical connections quickly. I was quick to grasp patterns and develop shortcuts for doing arithmetic. I was never very good at showing my work. Many times I was able to jump directly to the answer. I suppose it was because teachers wanted to be sure I understood. It was a confusing time because I thought that the ultimate goal was the correct answer. I gave the right answer and yet was not given full credit.
Perhaps if I sat there and was quiet, my great potential would reveal itself.
My aptitude for math translated into attending Drexel University and majoring in Mathematics. I figured that maybe I’d become a teacher at the suggestion of a counselor.
I dropped out in my sophomore year. So much for that high school career counseling I’d received that indicated I would succeed in college.
Myth buster.
Follow your bliss. Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.
Maybe, maybe not.
My nudge is to become an intentional questioning machine. Question the why. Question your motivation. Question what others have to gain by nudging you in a certain way. Question your questions. What don’t you know, you don’t know?
Just question.
Everything.
Nudge: What do others say you should be when you grow up? What did they say?
Nudge, nudge: What do you want to be when you grow up?