I'm going to assume that most of you reading this
participated in some sort of school system that gave you
evaluations on your performance in letter grades.
A few of you might have gotten number grades but the premise is still the same.
The best grade you can get is the first letter (A) or the first number (1)
and the further you get in the alphabet or the higher the number,
the worse your performance is being rated.
This also means that there wasn't any higher rating of your performance
(until you get to high school and encounter AP and honors courses)
than all A's.
On the first day of class, everyone starts out worthy and equal
in the eyes of the report system but as soon as the
first grades start getting logged,
it becomes clear that we're not the same.
The system is rigged of course.
The only way to go is down.
Unless you get a perfect score on every assignment,
which is possible but not likely,
you will know that you aren't perfect
and that you should work really hard to try
and get back that clean slate.
I mean, of course you don't have to be PERFECT
but you do need to minimize your mistakes to less
than 10% of the questions or you won't be
able to keep that shiny A.
It's a wonder that anyone tolerates this system
or that it persists given how one-sided
the rewards are for the participants.
That's why the system has to be taught
early, so we don't actually learn to argue against it too hard.
I only have three instances in my entire academic career
where I got less than all A's on my report card.
And I want to be clear-my all A's were HIGH A's.
None of this barely squeaking by with a 93 crap.
I am an excellent test taker, a remarkable regurgitator of facts,
and even as a tiny kid, I was organized.
I hit my marks and I just knew that I was better
than a whole lot of other people
because the system told me I was.
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| I am not an enneagram 1 but I am leading a class on enneagram in March. Sign up here. Also, I cannot figure out who made this meme first so can't give credit. |
When I was in second grade,
I missed a whole week of school because I was sick.
The day I returned, I took a science test on a unit about
clouds and weather patterns, most of which was covered while I was out.
I did not do well. In fact, I made a 67 on it.
Ms. Isley wasn't really big on science so
this test was our only major grade for that 9 weeks in science.
She was apologetic when she called me up to her
desk to review the grade and explain why I had gotten such a low score.
She was very clear that I had earned this low grade
because there was only one major test and I had scored so low on it.
She showed me the math calculations,
explained how the two 100's I got on minor work
wouldn't cancel out the big black eye of that test because of
the way she set up the weighting logic.
It was all plain as day, right there on her little ledger.
She was sure I would do better next nine weeks.
Seven year old me nodded along with her, confused about how I could have
come so close to failing but never questioning the way
the system was structured.
(Forty-seven year old me is wondering how I managed to
get over half the problems correct on that test and
also wondering about whether Ms. Isley was being bullied by her own administration. She was a sweet teacher and I liked her a lot but surely
she could have given me a day or two before taking that test?)
The second time I was less than perfect in school,
I had just moved to Burlington after spending two years
out in Caswell County.
I went from a single class of about 25 students
to a very competitive middle school with 5 times the number
of students in my grade.
My previous grades and test scores placed me in Algebra
with all the other smarty pants.
Accept, I had never seen a variable before
and barely knew long division.
Square roots? Exponents? Mythical creatures as far as I was concerned.
I had never used a locker or changed classes either.
I had no friends and my home life was....well, it was
pretty fucked up.
Still, when I got a C that first nine weeks, I knew it was because
I was the problem and since I was older now,
I didn't need the teacher to explain to me
that I would need to fix it.
My first nine-weeks algebra grade was the only
value below an A I received until after I graduated high
school.
I was as close to perfect as I could make myself.
At least academically.
Which earned me a spot at NC State and that's where I
encountered my third experience with letter grades not equal to A.
In high school, I had tutored chemistry, so I wasn't
concerned at all when people told me that Chem 101
was a terrible, awful, no good class.
I was different.
Better.
Their worries were not mine.
Except....I barely managed to pull a C out of that class.
And the next semester of introductory chemistry was the same.
I was certain I was going to get kicked out, exiled from college,
set adrift on the sea of mediocrity.
But a C was a passing grade and allowed me to move on to
other, more advanced chemistry.
My TA in Organic Chemistry laughed when I lamented my C in the first
two classes.
"Even chemists don't understand Chem 101 and 107. That
stuff is all theoretical and confusing." she said.
I still feel a little prick of rage because of her admission
but it's wrapped in a cushion of gratitude for her honesty.
She pulled back the curtain on this system that I thought
was holy, righteous and complete.
It was just a glimpse but it relieved me
from some of the burden.
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| I turned some old recipe cards into ash after working through some old ideas. |
After completing my degree, I applied my academic strategy
to my professional life.
Almost every year end evaluation I ever received was
to the tune of exceeding expectations
and had an accompanying raise with an increase in responsibility.
I climbed and I climbed until one year ago today, when I #quit
a job that had a big title, a lot of responsibility, and very little satisfaction.
The only thing I regret about that decision is not doing it earlier.
On the other side of #quitting,
I've discovered that I still really love to work.
I've also discovered that I have enough experience
outside of that system now to ask some questions about my future.
Questions like:
What are my metrics for success?
How will I know I'm on the right path?
Who (if anyone) needs to approve my performance?
What is work that is worth doing?
How can I apply my skills, experience, and perspective
to do good work?
When is succeeding at a job actually failing at your life?
What even is good work?
These are not questions that have finite or even definite answers.
They are nebulous and evolving.
The numbers and the letters are somewhat meaningless.
I have to hold a lot of paradoxes loosely and squint
with my whole body to discern any kind of answer.
It's a little disorienting to be out here in the wilderness
but it's also a relief to take things less seriously.
I have discovered that my actual values sometimes
line up with the work that happens inside those larger systems.
I have also discovered that I don't agree with some fundamental
tenets of that capitalistic world view.
You know, the one that told me to move only in one direction (up)
and to see money as a a replacement for love, or
that MORE is always the right answer.
I care deeply about people and the natural world.
I know my job here, in this time on this planet
is brief and that I'm meant to use it to cultivate connection.
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| This tree is covered with all the labels I could remember being called. |
I've been #playing around for a while now, doing
work that other people pay me money for at varying rates.
Sometimes the hardest, most worthy work
I do for free.
Because it is the most important work and
I'm the person who needs to do it.
I have space and time set aside specifically for this work
because if I don't, the capitalistic pressure will steal it away, bury the need
in busy-ness and hierarchy.
Sometimes the easiest, least important work
I do comes with the most money.
Because the people who pay me for that work
wouldn't trust the effort without the reward.
Because the work requires all these certifications
and experiences and superlatives I earned inside
that system to understand their language.
It's still worthy work in my opinion,
just framed a little bit wonky inside the lingo of capitalism.
I've developed some new hard guidelines
when I approach work now.
Since my strongest addiction to date is abusing myself in favor
of other people's expectations, I'm going to share some of these
guidelines with you on the anniversary of #quitting.
Not gonna lie, some of these are really hard to write down.
Mostly because I have betrayed myself repeatedly around them in the past
and I know I will likely stumble again as I practice them.
Perfectionism dies hard ya'll.
I'm going to screw this up AND that is the point of trying.
Nevertheless, here are some of my truths.
I only take on jobs that line up with my values.
I won't work to line white men's pockets
with cash while leaving the rest of us destitute or disenfranchised.
I will bring my whole authentic self to my work.
Work that doesn't allow me to prioritize my personhood is not work for me.
I will take on work that enlivens me and brings me joy.
I will not conflate money or titles for some representation of my value
or the value of the work itself.
I will acknowledge when I fall out of alignment and take immediate
steps to remedy it.
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| A doodle I did while waiting at a local coffee shop |
I know that I am privileged to be able to practice
these values right now in safety.
I am not apologizing for that privilege, just recognizing that it exists.
I'm going to have it whether I deserve it or not-
so there's not much use in saying sorry.
I think the best thing I can do with it is to use it
in a way that builds us instead of devours us.
There is more to this life than hustle culture
and climbing and earning.
Infinitely more.
Real talk though: The little girl version of me who was so good
at earning those A's needs a lot of support sometimes.
She really wants to develop a new grading system
or a marketing plan to prove that this way of looking
at the world is valid, possible or real.
Sweet little babe-worried and anxious like
the hen-pecked little performer she was raised to be.
It is already real.
I am already doing it.
Still, sometimes fear causes the world to scream very loudly
that my choices are dangerous-not just to me
but to this beautiful little family I belong to.
When she gets really wound up, I've learned a few tactics to help her calm down.
A hug, a snack, a nap, or a good long walk with the Creator
usually remind her that this wild and precious life
is wasted when we spend our energy on efforts that we don't value.
I hope I see you around soon-
virtually or in person.
I trust that the Creator will set an appointment
on our shared calendar when the time is right.
I'm already laughing at the joy of it.
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