When you were little, did they say onward is forward?
Hi, everyone-
I remember my mother would tell me stories of how my grandmother had to basically claw her way—forward, backward, and then forward again—to convince the village that she’s qualified to teach in the 1930s. This was back before women were given the rights to teach in the village. And before most people become literate.
Her cohorts were practically handed the job. Even when they knew less about teaching (and about reading). So she said that, for my grandmother, it felt a bit like everyone is going ahead of you at the speed of a car. And you’re only just crawling. Which makes it feel a lot like going backwards.
But what if you’re a decent student living in the UK?
Someone who passed seven O-level tests and two A-level tests.
UK friends, feel free to share what you know in the comments section about the significance of these tests.
As I understand it:
O-levels are exams that students take after they completed their secondary education. The minimum they had to pass are five subjects.
Then, there are A-levels—advanced level exams—for university enrollment. Most people study three or more A-levels in a matter of two years.
One boy from Chelsea, London, passed seven O levels and two A-levels. More than enough to move on to bigger things. The boy’s parents were a teacher and a homemaker.
Basically: he’s a pretty smart kid.
He had always had a thing for music, too. His two friends are great at keeping him company with his music. The boy knew he wanted to do something with his life beyond the classes he’s studying for.
He’s also popular.
So if you’re good at pretty much everything, it’s easy to think that everything just comes easy, too. But take a look at this list of psychological complications from theDavidson Institute. Including how:
If you’re smart, you’re not allowed to talk about it. I can see why. Especially when intelligence should be a ‘gift.’ Not something to complain about.
Trying is an uncultivated skill. Being good at something means they never had to try that hard. In most of their entire life. So when it comes time in life for them to try—it’s hard to cope.
Depth of perception is a lonely road. If your emotional intelligence surpasses your peers (as I imagine is the case for many of you reading this), seeing things differently can make you feel like no one else knows what it’s like.
So as Kermit the Frog would say: It ain’t easy being green.
Or smart.
Or a smart teacher’s son who was green at life.
The green UK boy may be all of this.
Because instead of leaning into what he really cared about, music, he was ‘smart’ enough to tune out his passion. And did what the smart people told him to: finance and accounting. Possibly the driest, but arguably one of the most lucrative professions there are. He went beyond just looking at them. He majored in it. In the London School of Economics.
Maybe he was hoping this would give him the highs he got from his O-levels and A-levels.
Maybe it was just a matter of being the good student that his mum and dad wanted.
Maybe it was just because he did all this on government grant.
It always sounds so cool when you hear those who got scholarships.
But being given money to study comes with a lot of pressure. Now it’s not just you who decided to pursue this one discipline. People had put money down—literally put them down—to make sure you do exactly what they expected.
And so while classmates might’ve gone to get fish and chips and skipped class:
This one boy must’ve had to sit out some outings to the nearby bars.
He must’ve thought of how mum stayed at home. So maybe I can, too. Dad’s a teacher. So maybe I can, too.
He must’ve also thought of music. And how ‘No one ever makes much.’ So what was he supposed to do? Not have a way to feed the family later?
And if you’re smart, you got a government grant, you’re in one of the best schools in the country—you shouldn’t want anything other than all this.
Right?
…
But how come it won’t go away?
How come the thought of belting out in front of the microphone, with your two best friends strumming something both known and unknown, new and old, melodious and mellifluous—make you want to rip out your shirt, your chest even, and jump straight behind the class podium …
… to sing, maybe.
But mostly, to roll out a scream:
Oh!
Ahh!
If you’ve ever loved something—really loved something—you’d know that every second you’re not thinking of it … Every second you’re not with it …. governs what you do and do not take for granted. It might even make you believe that not being smart is ultimately the only smart thing to be at this point.
But then, the boy noticed something that turned everything around: