I wanted to be an ear of corn. Yes, you read that right. I wanted to be an ear of corn. When I was in the third grade, we put on a play about a farmer and his vegetables. The corn roles were most desirable because they were tall, slender, beautiful vegetables that described themselves in that way in the song they had to sing and in the dialogue they spoke. All of the tall, slender third graders were assigned that role. As you can imagine, nothing about me was tall, and therefore, I was assigned the role of the tomato. I was devastated. The tomato wasn’t even a vegetable; it was a fruit. And all of the short kids were tomatoes. I remember telling my mom that I wanted to be tall so I could be the ear of corn in that play. I compared myself to those tall, slender kids and felt like--well, an inadequate tomato.
A photo of third grade Mrs. Pace
Recently, a conversation I had with a student reminded me of this moment when I was in the third grade.This student was comparing himself to other students in the class and feeling inadequate. I got choked up in thinking about this because this student is far from inadequate, and I did the best I could in reminding him of that. And I then began to think about all of the times I feel inadequate. There are many instances. I feel inadequate quite often in my role as a teacher, as a mother, as a friend, as a wife. Then I began to think about why I feel this way. Why do I feel like I don’t live up to certain expectations? Why am I inadequate? The answer is simple. Any time I feel inadequate has been a moment where I compare myself to others. I may look at another teacher and think that I never could be as impactful in the classroom as they are. I may feel like I fail as a mother because I see the behaviors of my children are the ultimate reflection of me.
Yet, what I’ve learned is that life is not a race or a competition even though it can feel like it at times. We can’t spend our lives comparing ourselves to one another. There are gifts that I have that other teachers or mothers don’t have (I’m still trying to figure out what those are, but at least I recognize their potential to exist). So, the next time you think that your classmates are smarter than you are or prettier or more popular--the next time you think that you simply can’t match up to them, remember don’t ever compare your intelligence or anything else about yourself to others. Just worry about being the best version of yourself that you can be. Be grateful to be the tomato in a world of long, slender ears of corn.
I look at all of you, and I wish you all could see yourselves from my eyes. You would see successful students who work hard. You would see students who have learned the art of procrastination yet somehow always get their work done. You would see student athletes who balance an IB curriculum with sports and other extracurricular activities. You would see kind students who go out of their way for other people, who don’t think so insularly about themselves all of the time. Look at what we’ve done recently in Room 211. You’ve collaborated as an entire class, you’ve made a difference in a four year-old’s life, you brought literature to life. In none of those things did it matter who was better or who was out ahead. Rather, they were situations where you worked together for an end result. In school and in life the more we can collaborate and work together, the less we will compare ourselves to others, preventing feelings of inadequacy.
Caleb's reaction when he saw the website the TOK seniors made for him
English 11 IB students collaborate in a mock trial for In Cold Blood
I’m grateful I had the chance to have this conversation recently with a student. I hope he ended up understanding why he is far from inadequate. You ALL are far from inadequate. Please don’t ever try to measure up to anyone but yourselves. Over thirty years ago, I mourned the idea of not being assigned the role of the ear of corn. Actually, I did get out of being a tomato in that third grade play after all, but not because my teacher Mrs. Bauer decided to allow me to be an ear of corn. Rather, I was not a tomato because I had the chicken pox the day of the play, but I digress. It’s funny the memories that come back to us when we’re trying to figure out our young adult and adult lives. What I know now that I may not have understood as a nine year-old is that sometimes, it’s okay to be the tomato among the ears of corn. Sometimes, the roles that are chosen for us enable us to be far more amazing than we ever could imagine.
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