Not Smart Enough for College

On February 28, 2008, I recorded the following experience in the journal I was keeping as a requirement for my qualitative research professor. My professor and I had been discussing the introduction to the first chapter of my dissertation. I told her about the high school counselor who told me I wasn’t smart enough to go to college. I will paraphrase what she asked me, “Wouldn’t it be fun to find that man and go back and tell him what you have accomplished?”

I think she was trying to say that I would receive a great deal of pleasure if I found him and pointed my finger in his face and, with pride, told him he was wrong and explained what I had accomplished since high school. Perhaps she was right, because, after all, it is a natural reaction and I suppose I might have felt some sort of misplaced gratification. However, that is not the kind of pleasure for which I was looking. 

I responded with a comment something like this, “I think that rather than finding that man so I could gloat as I told him about my college career, I would rather talk to my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Bouck, who was the first and perhaps only teacher that I ever had who thought I had any ability whatsoever.”

This morning, as I write about this incident, I had a thought that I had never experienced before. I thought that maybe I should find that man and rather than throwing an “I proved you wrong” comment up to his face, I should say something like, “Thank you for not believing me capable enough to graduate from college!” I thought this because I wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t implied that I wasn’t smart enough to go to college. I wondered if I would have had the same motivation to try. And then I asked myself, “Would I have succeeded with my dream of a college education?” 

I remember walking home from that meeting with the counselor, discouraged and down on myself, thinking I was stupid and wondering, “Why should I even try?” Then I walked into the house, and my life was saved (figuratively) by my mother. She noticed that something was wrong, and, after some coaxing, finally succeeded in getting me to talk with her. 

At that moment in my life, she was able to motivate and encourage me to not let the actions and words of this man stop me from pursuing my dream. She motivated me in a way that lasted a lifetime. Because of the attitude, help, example, and words of encouragement from my mother, I did go to college, graduated, had a successful career in public health, taught at the college level, and eventually went on to earn a PhD. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this man perhaps really did have a positive impact on my life.

Nevertheless, if I could find anyone to thank, I would still want to thank my fifth-grade teacher who helped me develop confidence and a quiet belief in myself.

I would also like to hug my mother and once again tell her thanks for the positive effect she had on her only son and reinforce my gratitude for the role she played in getting me through college.

From my studies this morning, I learned that negativity can motivate, and it may be powerful, but it is not nearly as powerful as positivity. The positive feelings I received from Mrs. Bouck and the confidence and hope I received from my mother more than offset the negative vibes I received from that high school counselor who thought he was trying to save a misguided student from the pain and suffering of certain failure.

I hope that as parents we teach this simple lesson of positivity to our children and others who may be struggling and throw them lifelines to achievement and success. I hope we can see our children’s potential and motivate them like Mrs. Bouck and my mother did for me.

Happy Failing Forward,

Calvert