Tales from the 5th Grade — The Pop Quiz Incident
In early childhood days, we all played together completely oblivious to our differences. We saw each other as equals, as fellow kids, having fun playing in a world of make believe.
We gave little or no thought to how we might not be the same.
It was in the 5th grade that I first remember becoming conscious of differences. The children scattered on the playground were more noticeably assembling into groups of like identities.
We began to notice distinctions in each other. Some characteristics were admired or envied. Other differences were ridiculed or feared.
My identity centered around intelligence. I wasn’t the athlete, the beauty queen or the class clown. Not that I was clumsy, ugly or antisocial. I was average … except in the brains department. I was the smart one.
You might be thinking, “Lucky you. How is being labeled the smart one a bad thing?”
I had also inadvertently become a teacher’s pet. The achievement of this status was never intentional on my part. It just happened naturally as a consequence of being a well behaved, quiet, straight A student.
It was in the 5th grade that classmates began verbalizing their disapproval of the favoritism sometimes displayed by the teacher towards the teacher’s pet, aka me. Since my label was “The Smart One”, the sneers and jeers were aimed at my intellectual abilities.
What I didn’t know then that I do know now? It is not uncommon for people of all ages to become defensive about their own insecurities and lash out at those who are succeeding where they are failing.
When it comes to children, this scenario can be especially ugly. Tactfulness in a 5th grader is rare. Ergo, children’s words tend to cut sharply.
Being labeled as the smart one is not the worst mark for a child to bear. Even so, kids have a knack for manipulating something positive into a sharply pointed weapon.
Being singled out for any reason shines a spotlight in your direction. You are then a target for verbal missiles.
(Attention is, to this day, an uncomfortable and ill-fitting garment for me to wear.)
This brings us to … The Incident.
I don’t recall the specific area of study that was involved, but I do remember that it was a pop quiz.
When the graded quiz was returned to me, I stared in disbelief at the letter written in the corner. It was a letter I had never before seen on my work.
It was an F.
After the moment of shock wore off, a rush of joy hit me out of nowhere. The elated feeling of being just like everyone else, sharing a moment in common with the entire class, being a part of the team.
It! Was! Awesome!
I came home from school that day with a big smile on my face and a graded quiz in my hand. I bounded up to Mom, thrust the paper at her and said, “Look! I made an F.”
My parents’ bewilderment over my enthusiasm to share this news was an unexpected parenting challenge for them. My brother usually tried to hide his bad grades. They knew exactly how to deal with that type of scenario. This was something else entirely.
At first Mom and Dad thought I had failed the assignment intentionally. On the contrary, that’s what made the F so excitingly special for me.
After a gentle interrogation of the suspect, it was determined that the failure was not premeditated and would likely not be a recurring event.
The harassment endured for being a good student did come to light during the questioning. My parents response was not to direct anger toward the children, the other parents, the teacher or the school district.
Blame was not thrown like daggers at anyone.
The media was not alerted to the news of kids being kids.
The world was not made aware of my plight.
The focus was on parenting their child. Plain and simple.
The emphasis was on taking the opportunity to teach the child in front of them the benefits of being a unique individual. They explained that it’s okay to be the smart one.
The problem was not with me doing what I do best. Grades are important. Excelling at what you do best is not a bad thing.
I did enjoy the novelty of earning an F that one time, but it was a fleeting pleasure. My parents were relieved to know the experience would not become habitual.
At 11 years old I was unable to fully comprehend the important nature of the lesson learned that day. The application of this lesson would, however, continue to serve me well as I grew into adulthood.
Embracing your strengths and recognizing the strengths of others teaches you the power of how to be responsibly independent.
The complimentary nature of diversity and tolerance is an ordinary, everyday super power that can build worlds, big and small.
Your Thoughts:
What ordinary, everyday superpowers did you learn when you were growing up?
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Tales from the 5th Grade — The Pop Quiz Incident
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