Bunny:
I guess I'm referencing the way people choose to spend their "free" time. I'm not interested in video games, nor do I think I'll learn a skill that is useful to me, so I don't indulge. Plus I'm older, so pinball is better to me. A silly joke on myself, reslly.
Others:
Your posts relate to my little epiphany, and I was illuminated by the conflict between Portia and I.
I realized after thinking about his experience that I have been in self-kick mode for many, many years and I now understand that I don't need to kick me anynore - it wasn't possible, under the conditions, to do differently than I did. Every choice was a loser.
Those conflicting messages I spoke about:
It's good to be smart.
It's bad to be smart (we'll punish you).
The net effect for me: I've frozen in every classroom situation I've ever been in. The fear of being smart (e.g., succeding) was so intense that I could not move. I would try over and over, but not be able to maintain a forward motion. This is the result of being, as one of you said, subjected to unrealistic expectations (no one called me a genius, ever, just gifted, I assume in the regular somewhat above avarage way). Not in the sense that I was expected to be a genius or smarter than I was, but that I was expected to be smart under certain conditions only, and only if it made mom look good.
If I was smart in the wrong way, in a way that exposed my Mother (I understood something that she didn't, could do what she couldn't, caught her in a lie or a weasel), I was subjected to such intense hostility and denigration that I eventually learned it was better to not be smart at all than risk being in that position. Of course, I felt guilt for not performing, so I would try, try again - but repeatedly freeze and fail miserably. Not by doing the work incorrectly, but being unable to bring myself to do it at all! I only felt worse and worse, never better.
I have to say that my teachers/educators tried everything they could think of - assuming the main problem was that I wasn't challenged, which was also true, but didn't even touch the real problem. I couldn't articulate it to them because I did not understand it as anything but MY hopeless deficiency. I found a good "cheater" system, though, in JHS - I just read textbooks and other books, cutting class and just showing up for exams and Major Projects. I aced those and squeaked out with a D, year afer year.
The system, while a good band-aid, was not enough, really. I eventually just gave up, dropped out and left home at 15. Went to college some, off and on, but the fear and the problems remained. I learned to cope by self-teaching, which worked beautifully because - as Grossman says in his "liitle voice" essay - I didn't WANT anything, other than the learning itself. I had no objective, I learned for pure pleasure. Put an objective on it, though - faggedaboudit. I had to be smart in secret, kind of.
Outside of school, I had friends in legit academia, even some Professors whose classes I dropped, read copiously, had great discussions and debates - that helped me immensely in terms of understanding my capabilities, at least, and also helping me understand that some people would celebrate my smarts (imagine that) and pat me on the back if I made an astute observation or countered an argument accurately and effectively. Fortunately, as an adult, I was able to l to find good, rewarding work despite my lack of credentials, because a few people recognized some ability or another and - well - nurtured me a bit, as much as one adult can do for another. those people remain good friends to this day, althoughI live in another part of the contry now and am self-employed (works for Mom hours).
It never has helped me with the kick-self, though, the relative success I've had. I've just continued to feel deficient all my life, thinking about all that in purely self-directed, self-punishing terms.
After this experience with Portia, however, I got to thinking about it and realized that I really did the best I could. I don't blame me anymore for choosing not to choose. Sure, life would have sure been different, and probably better in some ways, if I had been able to overcome it. But I was little - as in second grade little - when all this started.
I can't blame the child anymore. In fact, I may send her back to school one day, just for the pure pleasure - or maybe so she can just learn to be comfortable with being smart out loud.
Anyway, that's that for the epiphany.
Also, something else - short and sweet:
Sometimes when we disagree, our problems do the fighting for us.
I get a pretty funny mental picture when I think about my husband and I disagreeing in the audience while our "problems" are in the ring dukeing it out.
