As simple as that
Hannah Brencher
Issue date: 2/3/10 Section: Viewpoint
Had we known each other in the fifth grade I would have told you about Gabriella Vacaldo. Gabriella was my Italian cousin and a star gymnast. She was the best in her class at pottery and she had long curly brown hair. Her parents gave her a cell phone at the mere age of 12 so she could call me anytime. Although it is great that I know so much about my cousin, I have a small confession to make. Gabriella Vacaldo never existed.
I am convinced that everyone has a list of facts about themselves that they never plan to reveal out loud, yet here I am admitting a fact that is pretty close to the number one spot. I made up a cousin in the fifth grade. But in all fairness, everyone knows there is nothing cooler than having an Italian cousin to hang out with after school; at least there was nothing cooler at my lunch table. So as all the other kids scuttled off the black top at 3 p.m. to go play with Vinnie and Antonia, I was "making a call to Gabriella." In actuality, I was going to play by myself and kicking the dirt for my lack of Italian roots.
If my life were a pie chart, about 76% of it would be shaded with the words "follower." I have always had the potential to be a leader, but I chose never to accept it, to throw it to the side to go with the rest of the crowd. I hated kickball, but I played regardless. I have never been Catholic, but I wiped lead from my pencil on my head on Ash Wednesdays in elementary school to blend in with my peers. I hid every potential quality of mine that stood out so that I could be who I wanted to be more than anything a cookie cutter of everyone else.
It's called fitting in. It's called dying to fit the mold. It's called "God, please don't give me any trait that is distinguishable, different, unique or quirky." In elementary school it is absolutely essential, in middle school and high school it is torturous and if we are lucky, in college it begins to matter less. At some point, our brain makes a conscious realization that it's not really the fitting in, but rather the standing out that we should strive for. We go from following the group to being the leader.
I am convinced that everyone has a list of facts about themselves that they never plan to reveal out loud, yet here I am admitting a fact that is pretty close to the number one spot. I made up a cousin in the fifth grade. But in all fairness, everyone knows there is nothing cooler than having an Italian cousin to hang out with after school; at least there was nothing cooler at my lunch table. So as all the other kids scuttled off the black top at 3 p.m. to go play with Vinnie and Antonia, I was "making a call to Gabriella." In actuality, I was going to play by myself and kicking the dirt for my lack of Italian roots.
If my life were a pie chart, about 76% of it would be shaded with the words "follower." I have always had the potential to be a leader, but I chose never to accept it, to throw it to the side to go with the rest of the crowd. I hated kickball, but I played regardless. I have never been Catholic, but I wiped lead from my pencil on my head on Ash Wednesdays in elementary school to blend in with my peers. I hid every potential quality of mine that stood out so that I could be who I wanted to be more than anything a cookie cutter of everyone else.
It's called fitting in. It's called dying to fit the mold. It's called "God, please don't give me any trait that is distinguishable, different, unique or quirky." In elementary school it is absolutely essential, in middle school and high school it is torturous and if we are lucky, in college it begins to matter less. At some point, our brain makes a conscious realization that it's not really the fitting in, but rather the standing out that we should strive for. We go from following the group to being the leader.
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