She’s So Bright!

As a small child, I received conflicting messages about myself. I just could never reach the level of beauty that was so important to the females of my mother’s family. I couldn’t even reach my sister's level. I was repeatedly told that I was found in the garbage pail, and they took pity on me and took me inside. I was told that the Gypsies left me on the doorstep and that if I did anything bad, they would send me back to the Indians! I think it was meant for fun, but I never found it funny. Because I lacked in one department, I had to make it up in another way. My mother took upon herself the task of teaching me everything I would learn in school each year. That way, school was easy, and nothing was new. In school, I was very smart. I was also appreciated, which was hard to come by at home.

One day, when I was five years old, our neighbor invited us to see her new baby. It was her first child, and I was anxious to see the baby. We went to her house, and she showed us a sleeping infant in a bassinet. The child stirred a little, and the lady said, “ She is so S..M..A..R..T!

My mother looked at her and said, “Why are you spelling?” The woman answered, “I don’t want her to get a big head!”

When we left the house, I was worried that I would have a big head. I didn’t ask my mother, but I asked my dad. He had no idea what I was talking about, but he laughed when I explained it to him. He promised me I wouldn’t get a big head and that I was very SMART.

It became a standard joke in our house. Whenever anyone did something clumsy or stupid, everyone would simply spell out the word, “ Very SMART!”

Mom got very frustrated with me a few years later. She no longer had to tutor me to the next year’s curriculum. I could handle it myself.

Everything made sense to me except math. I had and have severe math anxiety. It’s a real thing. I don’t know the cause of it, and my mom being a math whiz didn’t make life easier. I conquered simple calculations and enjoyed geometry, but I still get anxious even when leaving a tip on a check.

I caught a break in college. I don’t remember the mathematics course I was required to take, but I was miserable in that class. I tried, but I just couldn’t get it. During the final exam, the professor handed me a note that said, “Do you swear never to teach math over the fourth-grade level?”

I rapidly shook my head yes. He took my exam paper and wished me a good summer vacation.

Fate stepped in and saved me. First, in high school, when they lifted the requirement to swim a lap across a pool, and finally, when a professor took pity on me and realized I just didn’t have a math brain.