It will never be enough, will it?

As a child, I experienced several instances where I was made to feel “special” or “gifted” in some way. This inevitably (over)inflated my ego and I built up these big dreams for what I’d accomplish with my life. I’d be rich and famous and renowned and respected. None of that has really panned out, of course, which has constantly left me in a state of feeling like I’ve come up short. Like I’m really not that special after all. (I’m not.)

Elementary, My Dear What Son?

To the best of my recollection, it all started in grade four. I was the new kid in school and I didn’t know anyone. Even so, it didn’t take long before my teacher singled me out as being “gifted.” She called in a grade seven student who came and taught me grade five math while the rest of the class did grade four math. My teacher felt it would be beneficial to challenge me and it’d be good for the grade seven student too. That went fine.

That summer, our family moved to a new home and I was transferred to another elementary school. Here I was as the new kid again and, of course, I didn’t know anyone. And again, it didn’t take long before my new grade five teacher singled me out as “gifted.” It wasn’t just me this time, as a small handful of students were selected for an “enrichment program.” A couple of times a week, we’d be pulled out of our regular class for our special “enrichment” group.

One year it was architecture. I built a model of a Japanese home with sliding doors out of balsa wood. The next year, it was law. We held a mock trial at the real courthouse downtown and I presided as judge. We were made to feel “special,” without explicitly saying what we knew was being implied: we were better than our “regular” classmates.

Secondary Reinforcement

As I made my way to high school — at least this time we were all the new kid and I did know a few people — it again didn’t take long before teachers identified me as “gifted.” At one point, my English teacher told me point blank that I was “obviously a very bright kid.” It was also around this time that I was enrolled in an accelerated math and science program. I completed three years of those subjects in two years. After finishing Math 12 and Chemistry 12 in grade 11, I effectively took first-year college calculus in grade 12.

All along the way, with almost no exception (to my memory), my GPA put me in the top three of my grade (of about 200 students) every year. To be fair, the demographics around my high school were very working-class with a significant immigrant population. I wasn’t exactly competing with kids who had private tutors and violin lessons on the weekends. Even so, this continued to inflate my ego. Yup, I’m going to be a big deal and you’re all going to hear about it.

The Several Stages of Reality Bites

With an overinflated ego and scholarships to boot, I started university. And, over time, I was hit with reality checks. Whereas high school conditioned me to expect straight As (or close to it), I started to see some Bs and even a C+ in some classes. I majored in my worst subject. As part of the co-op program, I applied (unsuccessfully) for over 50 jobs and went on a dozen interviews, missing out on my first eligible term to go on a work placement.

“Maybe I’m not so special after all,” I began to think.

I managed to land a placement the following term, but this time with a bruised ego and an increasingly deflated sense of self. Graduating from university was much the same. I didn’t start some hot-shot job with tremendous prospects for career growth. Instead, I settled for a very junior editor position for $10 an hour with zero prospects for promotion.

A Not-So-Gripping Tale

Long story slightly less long, I quit that job after a few months and hurled myself headlong into the freelance career I still have today, nearly two decades later. After being singled out as “gifted” in school, at or near the top of the class, I’ve come to lead a life that’s undoubtedly good (if perhaps unconventional), but one that is also undeniably mediocre. I am not rich, famous, or renowned. Nothing of the sort.

Rather, it feels more like I am constantly bombarded by evidence of my failures and shortcomings, about how I’m not good enough and can’t measure up to the inflated expectations I developed in my younger days. My professional career has been fine and I’m proud of a lot of what I’ve done, and yet I also can’t help but think how I should have been able to do more.

There’s this huge delta between expectations and reality, and while I wouldn’t say that I’m miserable by any stretch, it does weigh heavily on my mind and colors a lot of my daily experiences. It’s a tough pill to swallow as the “gifted” kid who never reached his full potential. I could’ve been a contender. Or not.

But, that’s kind of exactly it. On average, by definition, most of us are inherently average. And while we are all special in our own unique ways, most of us inevitably regress to the mean. By definition, we are mediocre. We’re special, just like everybody else. Maybe there’s a shared beauty in that, but it’s one that I struggle to come to grips with. Maybe being unable to come to grips with this hard truth is another one of my failures.

Either way, I’ll keep working on it. Like I always have. And maybe that’s the real gift of mediocrity.