“Wow, that was a really difficult math problem you just solved. You must have studied really hard to understand it!”
I had a third-grade science teacher who said something very similar to me after getting a perfect score on the first test of the new school year. It did two things; it made me think she was an idiot, and it made me feel guilt. Because, see, I didn’t actually put in any study. I’d just paid basic attention in class, and then spouted it all back out.
Before I even read your comment I was going to post almost exactly the same story.
I was about 7 years old and I was praised by the teacher to the other kids in the class as an example of the value of hard work. “Listen how well Apprentice just read this page for us. You know how he can do this so well? Because he carefully practices the assigned reading at home every time. You guys need to do that too.”
This was wrong but I didn’t correct the teacher and, like you, I felt guilty about the lie by omission. I hadn’t actually read this text at home before the class—nor did I ever practice reading the assigned texts at home. I was a fluent reader before I started school and there was no point in me practicing at home.
Throughout compulsory education, the teachers made efforts like this to instill in students the idea of “you have good results in school if and only if you do hard work”. This did not fit with my experience but it seemed to be accepted by some of the other kids. I think they looked at it like this: “I put much more effort into schoolwork than I should like but Apprentice still gets far better results than I do. He must be truly torturing himself with work, I’m glad I’m not him.” When I tried to tell them that I didn’t spend that much effort on homework they thought I was lying for some bizarre reason.
My current model of good results in school is that it is a factor of: a) general intellectual ability, b) interest in the subject matter, c) discipline and diligence. Throughout compulsory education I had strong a), strong b) and a mediocre c). That was plenty to be on top of a class drawn from a random sample of the population. Throughout my educational path I’ve known people with various other permutations. In secondary school I knew a girl with strong a) and c) and (in most contexts) a weak b. She got good grades, slightly better than mine. I also remember a guy with so-so a) and b) and an extremely strong c). He got good grades, slightly worse than mine. But most people who get good grades aren’t like that.
So, what should we tell kids? It is certainly a true and useful thing to know that disciplined hard work can get you good results. It’s also useful to know that being passionate about something makes it much easier to become good at it (it will still take work but it isn’t hard work). Finally, it is true that general ability is important and varies a lot between people in a way that isn’t particularly fair. Our society* will happily tell kids the first two things but is more ambivalent about the third. I think knowing it earlier on would have saved me from some weird doublethink and possibly enabled me to make some better decisions. But maybe more widespread dissemination of this fact would be overall harmful to society? I don’t think so but I’m not sure.
* I mean modern Western society in general but I grew up in socialist / egalitarian Scandinavia in the 80s where obscurantism about the third fact may have been especially prevalent.
Yes: I think the point above was driving at the ‘praise effort not talent’, which I buy, but praising effort where there was none can be counter-productive. Possibly with younger children they will actually associate the success with ‘working hard’ or ‘talent’ based on how you present it to them, but I don’t think that works with older children or adults. There you’d have to actually identify what was hard work and praise that more than talents: or where something involved both, focus on the work.
It was pretty clearly a lie of omission when I didn’t correct the teacher, so eight-year-old me felt guilty for that.
Why didn’t I? Partly, because I couldn’t muster the courage, and partly because she’d gone on in the next sentence to use my “hard work” as an example for the class and I didn’t want to undermine the lesson.
Now, adult me can look back and say, “Kid, there was no need to feel any guilt; what you did was fine given the situation and pressures.” But that precocious third-grader knew Lying Was Wrong.
I had a third-grade science teacher who said something very similar to me after getting a perfect score on the first test of the new school year. It did two things; it made me think she was an idiot, and it made me feel guilt. Because, see, I didn’t actually put in any study. I’d just paid basic attention in class, and then spouted it all back out.
Before I even read your comment I was going to post almost exactly the same story.
I was about 7 years old and I was praised by the teacher to the other kids in the class as an example of the value of hard work. “Listen how well Apprentice just read this page for us. You know how he can do this so well? Because he carefully practices the assigned reading at home every time. You guys need to do that too.”
This was wrong but I didn’t correct the teacher and, like you, I felt guilty about the lie by omission. I hadn’t actually read this text at home before the class—nor did I ever practice reading the assigned texts at home. I was a fluent reader before I started school and there was no point in me practicing at home.
Throughout compulsory education, the teachers made efforts like this to instill in students the idea of “you have good results in school if and only if you do hard work”. This did not fit with my experience but it seemed to be accepted by some of the other kids. I think they looked at it like this: “I put much more effort into schoolwork than I should like but Apprentice still gets far better results than I do. He must be truly torturing himself with work, I’m glad I’m not him.” When I tried to tell them that I didn’t spend that much effort on homework they thought I was lying for some bizarre reason.
My current model of good results in school is that it is a factor of: a) general intellectual ability, b) interest in the subject matter, c) discipline and diligence. Throughout compulsory education I had strong a), strong b) and a mediocre c). That was plenty to be on top of a class drawn from a random sample of the population. Throughout my educational path I’ve known people with various other permutations. In secondary school I knew a girl with strong a) and c) and (in most contexts) a weak b. She got good grades, slightly better than mine. I also remember a guy with so-so a) and b) and an extremely strong c). He got good grades, slightly worse than mine. But most people who get good grades aren’t like that.
So, what should we tell kids? It is certainly a true and useful thing to know that disciplined hard work can get you good results. It’s also useful to know that being passionate about something makes it much easier to become good at it (it will still take work but it isn’t hard work). Finally, it is true that general ability is important and varies a lot between people in a way that isn’t particularly fair. Our society* will happily tell kids the first two things but is more ambivalent about the third. I think knowing it earlier on would have saved me from some weird doublethink and possibly enabled me to make some better decisions. But maybe more widespread dissemination of this fact would be overall harmful to society? I don’t think so but I’m not sure.
* I mean modern Western society in general but I grew up in socialist / egalitarian Scandinavia in the 80s where obscurantism about the third fact may have been especially prevalent.
Yes: I think the point above was driving at the ‘praise effort not talent’, which I buy, but praising effort where there was none can be counter-productive. Possibly with younger children they will actually associate the success with ‘working hard’ or ‘talent’ based on how you present it to them, but I don’t think that works with older children or adults. There you’d have to actually identify what was hard work and praise that more than talents: or where something involved both, focus on the work.
I don’t understand, why guilt?
It’s about the difference between honor and reputation.
Lois Bujold, “A Civil Campaign”
It was pretty clearly a lie of omission when I didn’t correct the teacher, so eight-year-old me felt guilty for that.
Why didn’t I? Partly, because I couldn’t muster the courage, and partly because she’d gone on in the next sentence to use my “hard work” as an example for the class and I didn’t want to undermine the lesson.
Now, adult me can look back and say, “Kid, there was no need to feel any guilt; what you did was fine given the situation and pressures.” But that precocious third-grader knew Lying Was Wrong.