Day 53: Watch Me Work

 “Well, it’s easy for you.”

“You don’t even have to study.”

“You probably gonna get the curve again.”

“Denny, wow, you’re so smart!”

The responses for those statements above, respectively, would be: “Yes, it’s easy for me. No, I did study. Yes, I hope I would get the curve. And no, I’m not smart.”

In fact, don’t call me “smart”.

Ever.

Because I’m not.

I get very ticked off and upset whenever I heard somebody attributed that to me – the sense that I am innately born to achieve what I have achieve – which is funny, because I really never have achieved anything in my mind. My blood starts boiling up when people say that they’re jealous of me because “I can just learn things”. The thing about being called smart, is that you’re getting compliments for something you supposed to have in your genes. Your genetic compositions somehow make you inherently better and you’re supposed to be better. It’s not a bad thing, really – I sure am glad I wasn’t born with learning disability and I’m blessed with a functional brain. However, I wasn’t born and immediately solved second order different equations. I wasn’t born and immediately able to know how oxidative phosphorylation works. I wasn’t born and immediately knew that Hitler should not have invaded Russia during the winter.

Let me tell you something.

When I was young, nobody called me “smart”.

Ever.

When I started elementary school, I remembered the first day like it was yesterday. I cried so much. I had never felt so scared in my whole life. There were people – kids – so many of them. I wasn’t used to it. I grew up really with a nanny at home and my parents didn’t exactly take me to the park to see other kids either. The point is, I cried the whole day. I cried the next day. And the day after that. Other kids looked at me, this big head, chubby boy who can’t get out of his own misery. I didn’t have many friends, back then and now. Then, I saw kids who get a 10 (which is like the perfect score in Vietnam) got called and complimented. People clapped for him. I hated it.

I had to be called on and complimented. People had to clap for me.

So I made sure they would.

I still remembered the nights that I stayed and sat on my desk with the hot, bright yellow-lit lamb next to me. I remembered using a pencil to write down every single letter of the alphabet. I would write down the letter “a” a hundred time on a page of paper, then on the next page write down the cursive “a” a hundred time, then on the next page write down the capital “A” a hundred time. I did that for every letter, then combination of letters, like “gh”, “ng” or “tr”, then words. I have written down so many words that I don’t think there’s a word in Vietnamese that didn’t have a page for.

I still remembered the nights that I stayed and sat there at that desk, doing math problems after math problems. Every possible addition and subtraction that is less than 100, I’m pretty sure I have done. I started learning multiplication and division. I spent days and days to remember the times table. I forced myself to practice it until I knew the result of 9 x 7 instantly, and that I knew for sure if Evan had 56 candies and 8 friends, each one would get 7 candies.

You guess it.

I was called on and complimented. People clapped for me.

They had to.

To be fair, I was blessed that I liked math and logic in general. I like order and rules, and knowledge. I like things to always be true and I like for myself to always be right about said true things. So I kept learning. See, the point isn’t that I can memorize the time table and recite it. The point is I built myself such a solid base that I know for sure that there’s not a single thing I can’t learn. I’m confident in my ability to understand new concepts. I’m confident, not because I’m smart, but because I know if I put in work, I will succeed.

That’s what people don’t see. They don’t see the work you put in. They don’t see how hard you work. They only see your results, and to be honest with you, that’s enough. They only need to see your results. They don’t need to know that you have stayed up all night to do second order differential equations. They don’t need to know that you have quizzed yourself about the respiration process a thousand times. They don’t need to know that you have read that history book about how Russians intentionally retreated to lure the German deep into the winter. They don’t need to know that, my friends.

They see your results, and wonder why they can’t have that.

They’re trying to bring you down.

They’re gonna say things like “Oh, you’re just smart!”, or “Oh, you just had such a nice opportunity!” They’re trying to make themselves feel better. They’re making excuses for the fact that they don’t have your results.

But they don’t know, my genetic makeup has nothing to do with who I am.

I, have everything to do with who I am.

So, yes, it was easy for me. 

Yes, I will probably get that curve again. 

But I have earned everything that I have had.

So don’t call me smart. Ever.

And watch me work.

You’ll see.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Love,