The Curious Columnist, Jennifer Silverman. Submitted photo
Like all languages, English is rife with icky words. Some of them are cringe-worthy for no good reason. The sound of them simply gives us the creeps.
In other cases, certain words are emotionally charged, eliciting personal, often adolescent angst that transcends the word itself. My trigger word is “smirk,” courtesy of a long-term substitute teacher with whom I was constantly at odds. She seemed to revel in calling out my seventh-grade tendency to “smirk.”
Decades later, the term still compels me to recoil. I can see the sub clear as day, standing at perfect attention, herself smirking while spotlighting my smirk to the class. Sure, the invader who descended on my happy academic family likely meant no harm, but her constant critiques were disheartening. Despite her proficiency in language arts, we just didn’t speak the same language.
I was a dyslexic kid who had been taught by extraordinary teachers to embrace learning differently. She was a type A personality who played by the customary rules. On some level, I sensed her resentment toward the freethinking educational environment the other teachers embraced.
Although the worst word she verbally subjected me to was “smirk,” her presence left a lasting, detrimental impression. She was the first unrelenting individual who attempted to imply that I was deficient as compared to my peers.
She seemed to assume my learning difficulties indicated intellectual stupidity, and that my refusal to cower to her convention indicated social stupidity. Fortunately, I had a higher power on my side. My principal believed in utilizing creativity to adapt lesson plans, enabling all kinds of learners to succeed rather than fail.
Recently, I happened upon an apropos podcast interview with Barbara Corcoran that had me thinking back to middle school. A mogul on TV’s, “Shark Tank,” she began her real estate career with a $1,000 loan from her boyfriend, who later ditched her to marry her secretary.
Corcoran parlayed that seed money into a net worth of approximately $100 million. She proved to her jerky ex that despite his warnings, she would indeed make it without him. In fact, she left him in the dust. A fellow dyslexic, one of Corcoran’s remarks stopped me in my tracks: To this day, she remains driven to “prove to the world that she is not stupid.”
Astonishingly, a self-made, uber-successful entrepreneur who is certainly the furthest thing from stupid, continues to battle what Corcoran coined, her “dumb kid” experience. This revelation speaks to the child alive in many of us, especially when frustration strikes, and we find ourselves on the verge of throwing in the towel.
Corcoran went on to explain that she believes our perceived weaknesses are often our greatest strengths, and that the desire to overcome that which threatens to hold us back, can propel us toward unprecedented achievement.
Recently, I found myself in an embarrassing situation. My immediate thought was, “Everyone is going to think I’m an idiot.” Upon reflection, I couldn’t help but wonder why I always jump straight to stupid. Maybe harboring the fear of being seen as “stupid” is really deep-seated. And perhaps like me, many folks do a double-take on occasions when they suddenly discover that others actually see them as “smart,” despite the “stupid” labels from our pasts.
So, how about doing the adolescents inside all of us a solid and redefining those outdated, worrisome words? As stupefying as it sounds, enduring, formerly negative labels can indeed be transformed into motivational momentum a la Corcoran. (Incidentally, in retrospect, I’m rather proud of my smirk. I guess it held more power than I realized.)
Jennifer Silverman has served as a celebrity wardrobe stylist for hundreds of TV personalities and professional athletes. A few of her favorite projects include the Olympic Games and the Oscars. Silverman and her Westie, Petunia, relocated from Manhattan to Amelia Island in 2019. Additional quirky commentary penned by Silverman is available by visiting www.CuriousColumnist.com Email her at Jennifer@CuriousColumnist.com.