Monday, 26 November 2012

The origins of a perfectionist attitude...

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2012
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


24 November

At kindergarten, maybe not every day (but at least once per week), you had a chance to look at the nice, big book about and picturing birds in lovely illustrations. You had a chance, if you came top in the 'all comers' compulsory (though never stated to be) spelling-test, probably out of 20...

It was irritating that getting to see the only book worth looking at meant coming top, and that an older girl called something like Naomi almost always go to hog this book as her prize, until she became old enough to go to a primary school, taking her talents at spelling and concomitant rights over stewarding the book with her.

But I did, once (maybe more), get to see the book, to hold it and turn the pages. A reward for excellence, but, to me, it became a rod for not being the best. If it had been a weekly (or however often) draw, then everyone, in theory, would have had as good a chance of getting to see it.

Unlike hearing about Dorothy and about Oz, which everyone could do, though, this looking at the book was a meritocracy (I think that the winner chose first), the merit being scoring highly in the spelling-test. So the message, at the age of five, was that you had to get things right, because, if you didn't, you'd never be valued by being able to look at a nice book.

I think that that is where it came from, and I've only recently realized, though I could quite easily have told you that, when I had reached primary school, it always hurt to lose marks, not to get 10 out of 10, not to get an A. And I was one of thosewho got good marks, so this relatively modern thinking that you damage the less able by competition didn't hold good for me...




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