My Dear Storybuff:
Yeah, I was that third grader who was invited into the gifted program after my teacher forgot she was speaking with a nine-year-old during one of our regular after-school-pick up chats. I was confused but welcomed getting to do set aside activities with a handful of peers from my grade. I didn't know, then, that my normal was different. I didn't understand why my common, everyday "me-ness" seemed to take people by surprise. (Am I really that much of an oddball?)
And though that baffling and isolating feeling has dissipated as I've gotten older, remnants still linger today. I'm not one for melodrama. So, here’s some context…
· “She’s so well-behaved,” said my pediatrician to my Mom.
· “She's so well spoken,” said my elementary school teacher during a parent-teacher conference.
· “You're such a leader,” said a middle-school coach to me.
· “You're so smart. You really should sit at our table during lunch,” said affluent high-school peers to me.
· "Oh... I didn't know that was your GPA," said the admissions counselor when I was trying to get into an honors college program—with a 4.0.
· "Wow, you got published in that professional journal?! Well good for you," said a colleague after I shared the good news.
· "You embody such a level of excellence," said a supervisor during a performance review.
I've appreciated these gracious compliments. Really, I have. Especially, having grown to receive kudos without minimizing, rebutting, or negating them—and, thus, myself. And I hope you don't read the list as me self-aggrandizing. Rest assured, I can fill volumes-on-volumes of instances where I’ve been the recipient of very unkind perceptions, words, or actions. (Like the time I told a college professor that going to law school was a life goal of mine, and he glazed over it saying, “Have you thought about becoming a nurse?”)
I provide the above background info to pinpoint a kindness on the surface that's masking a hidden transcript. An invisible ink that's revealed only when a certain clear-light-of-day is shined on it. I got such kudos when the only factor differentiating me from my peers was either my ethnicity, gender identity, age, disability status, or some eclectic combination thereof. When my white, male, or white-male dominant peers do it—nothing much to gawk at. But when I do, well…I become a circus for crowds who have patronizing tastes. Really, you’re welcome to take another look—
· “She’s so well-behaved [for a single-parent raised black girl from the projects],” said my pediatrician to my Mom.
My dear storybuff, "level of excellence" has a shadow side. So, the next time you may be on the giving or receiving side of something sounding like, “Wow, you're so [inject well-meaning compliment here.],” I invite you to stop and ponder this. Is it a genuine affirmation, or a surprise that somebody like them could possibly—possibly—show up in the world like that making itself known?
Well, that's my story morning glory. Keep living out yours. And remember…Stories tell us.
Peace ~ D.V. Gwyth