worry your pretty, little head

Good article in the NY Times today about Americans and our tendency to internalize success while externalizing failure. This article refers to the immense benefit that comes simply from being American. Interestingly enough, this has been a central focus of my research paper (which I have open and am pretending to work on right now). Girls externalize success (I studied really hard, I got lucky) while internalizing failure (I'm just too stupid to do this). It's been interesting to write this paper and read about the traditional behavior and treatment of girls in the classroom. All of the attention goes to the boys who blurt out answers, talk out of turn, and do all the bad things girls are socially conditioned not to do.

For me, though, I didn't recognize myself in the girls. I recognized myself in the boys. I was that obnoxious student who knew the answer to every question and strained and stretched to be noticed and called on. I harassed the teachers about my work, my ideas, and my needs. I was a classroom terror. So much so, that in 5th grade a girl named Jaime complained to the teacher that I received an unfair amount of attention in the classroom. The teacher put it to a vote and asked the other students, and they voted in my favor; Jaime had to apologize. Strangely, even after my "victory," I tried to mellow out.

I wanted what most middle school girls want in the classroom-to be invisible. I wanted to fly under the radar and avoid the ridicule of a wrong answer. It was easier for me, too, since I wasn't pretty, so it wasn't a detriment for me to be smart, because I wasn't trying to catch myself a boyfriend. Even still, I would try to silence myself. It's hard for me, though. I still want to answer the questions and be right. Even now, in college, older than the rest of the students and really just trying to eek out my degree, I tell myself not to be an active participant. Then the teacher asks a question, and my hand shoots up. And if I'm right, I internalize my success. "Man, I'm a genius," I might say. Oddly enough, I still can't take a compliment.