Being Dumb Is A Gift.

Being dumb is like being an underdog. An underdog will have its day.

I am dumb. Okay, I don’t really believe in that. But when parents and close family members start drumming that into my ears every single hour of the day, made-believe notions start anchoring and get buttressed in the mind. Looking back, I think this is actually a blessing. It sounds warped, but let me explain.

• First, it destroyed my pride.
• Second, it humbled me.
• Third, it made me realise that the only way I can do something for myself is.....…

…to work my ass off.

Just to be clear, I didn’t think of it that way when I was in those circumstances. Therefore, I hated it. As an 8 / 9 year-old, all I wanted was to have fun. It is 30 years after that that I started thinking and appreciating where it has gotten me today.

First Things First — Where I Grew Up.

A brief account of my background is necessary.

I was born into a lower income Singaporean family in the early 80s. The environment wasn’t dynamic then, and my parents believed that the only way out to get on in life was to be successful in my studies.

That was the only way to become a Civil Servant and get a stable job. Their logic was straightforward. Scholars become Civil Servants and get good money, which meant that I could take care of my family and my parents.

They knew the rules of the game. Scholarships mattered. Therefore, good grades mattered. A hell lot!

And because I wasn’t too attracted by the textbooks before the age of reason, I was beaten up quite a hell lot as well.

I remember thinking that every half year school semester was like a military camp. We did what we had to, not what we wanted to.

The sprinkles of April and October are like bootcamps. It was study in school, study at home, study in private tuition, all just to ensure that the result slips were as boring as possible. As my mum would say,

“How difficult is that? I only want 1 grade from you!”

By the way, that grade wasn’t F. I wish it was. I would have been playing soccer all day if that was the expectation. My entire growing up years was geared towards planting the seeds of infinite possibilities, germinating as many A fruits as possible.

Bearing academic fruits has a special meaning to me. And that is “no meaning”.

All alphabets meant nothing to me. And since I grabbed home almost all alphabets that could be found in the English dictionary, I was gifted the nomenclature of “a Dumb kid”.

And pretty soon I realised that being labelled a “Dumb kid” is not fun. All my freedom was taken away. And then my third eye opened. It was time to do something for myself. And so Operation Salvation was initiated.

Next — When Escape Is Not An Option.

I am a free spirit and there are things that I want to do.

I wanted to get out for Track & Field training and to go out with the ladies in my class. When you are branded “Dumb” from the get-go, the surprising thing is making time to work hard and study isn’t that difficult.

For my mental health, peaceful ears, and having a prospect of finally going out with my friends in the future, the dumb kid had to do what a dumb kid had to do.

I made time to study. And I studied.No, you don’t get what I mean.I meant, I devoured books like Pacman. Mind you, this is an 8 / 9 years old kid you are reading about. All this dumb kid ever wanted to do is to get out there for a breath of fresh air. The only way to do that was to study really hard. And so, that is exactly what I did.

5–6 hours a day was the norm. Homework, additional practice, assessment books — I swallowed them as if my entire life depended on it.

Of course, I chewed up a lot of knowledge too. Some of which I probably vomited right back up.

I timed the verbal purging. I made sure I held it in until it was time for tests. I might as well have, true?

My study hours lengthened as soon as I got the hang of it. Pretty soon 5 hours stretched to 6, 6 hours became 7, 7 hours felt like nothing.

The entire transformation process was hilarious. My friends thought that I had become a bookworm when all I wanted was to get my freedom back.

Different symbols started appearing. More checks, less crosses. Another thing changed. Attention. My teachers became kinder towards me. It used to be screams. Then it became encouragement. My circle of friends became curious. They used to involve me in their games. Then they ignored me.

The top students in my class took note of me. We began sharing homework. They started asking me for my test results with a wrinkle of worry. While I maintained a “dumb kid” status at home, I was moving up the academic social class in school.

Thank God they replicated the political right structure with mobility in schools. Even when I was thrown into the lowest academic caste 6 months ago — I could reverse it.

As I type this story, one thought popped into my head. Political Left or Right is irrelevant. Are we mobile? Can we progress based on our efforts? If we can, I think we have a beautiful system.

Then, Change Happened.

An academic system is about simplicity. Work hard and we get the results.I think that is true for the vast majority of us, probably deviation will only come when we are competing with the top 1% of the student population where every half a point counts.

Other than that — When it comes to removing that “Dumb kid” label, working hard would be suffice. I didn’t quite remember that exam week, probably because it was rather unmemorable.

I remembered the day of results collection. I remembered praying really, really hard.

“Oh Lord. Please. Please allow me to play soccer and video games during the upcoming month long vacation.”

I am serious.That was all I asked for as an 8 year-old / 9 year-old.

I cried BIG when I got my results slip.

3rd in class and A's …With a B.Yup, one B. A fountain of tears erupted. I couldn’t stop myself.

“Oh my gosh my vacation is over and I am finished!”

My teachers tried comforting me to no avail. I felt dumb.Then I heard something different from my inner voice.

“See? That is the different between the smart ones and the dumb ones. I only managed to scrape through the exams and I am laughing while Aldric is crying!”

Alright. So being dumb is relative. When I got home that night, my parents were already waiting for me. My hands trembled as I handed over the results slip for their perusal.

What followed was a prolonged period of uncomfortable silence.

I felt my ass itching for a scratch, but I was too worried to even move an inch while standing in front of my mum. Then I heard a long sigh.

“Alright, I guess this proves that you are less dumb now.”

Then she gracefully signed the results slip and I felt as if I could finally sleep for the longest time.

Then I started wondering if I am living in multi-verses.

In school — I progressed from “Dumb” to “Intelligent”. Of course, that was a mis-representation.

At home — I went from “Dumb” to “Less Dumb”. I didn’t fight it.

I was too tired. I went into hibernation mode that night.

That was a snippet of my life, 30 years ago. In hindsight, I think looking beyond the nomenclature of “Dumb” did me a lot of good. These are my thoughts.

# 1 — I Felt Psychologically Grounded.

Starting from 0 can be a beautiful feeling.We can’t lose anything when we don’t have anything to lose.That made me a very dangerous personality in class. As I was working hard to get my freedom back, I was doing homework in class and during recess. It felt fantastic and I am certain my friends were watching me. I didn’t bother. Freedom awaits.

# 2 — I Understood the Meaning of Having Meaning.

I understood what “meaning” stood for at that tender age.For me, it was “freedom”. Freedom for playing soccer, hanging out with friends. It drove me to the grind.

Without it, those string of As were meaningless.

I still think so today.

Thus, I routinely perform self-checks. I ask myself every morning where my North Star is, and look beyond the trials and tribulations day to day.The “meaning” I hold close to my chest, calms me.

# 3 — Being Dumb is a Gift. Being Gifted is Dumb.

I say this as someone who was attained both “Dumb” and “Gifted” status. Acknowledging that I was “Dumb” — don’t get me wrong, I resisted it too — puts me in a good mental space.

It drove me to work hard even when Z monster attacked me at midnight.

Being gifted is not quite the same feeling.

It feels the reverse.

It doesn’t feel liberating. It feels heavy.

It always felt like I had a target painted on my back and that people needed me to perform at the highest level. It just doesn’t push me as hard as the psychological acceptance of being a “Dumb kid”. So later on in my life, I accepted that I am “Dumb” in order for me to stay grounded and motivated in whatever I do.

My Life Story Takeaway.

I don’t know if there are any, but there are some for me.

One thing is for sure. I never regarded myself as being truly dumb.Because I am not. What really matters, is being in the mental state of knowing that I am at Ground Zero puts me in a great spot for working harder to achieve my goals. I think that is the key. And truthfully.

If I get to achieve my goals this lifetime, how does it matter whether I am wearing a “Dumb” or “Intelligent” label?

It pales in comparison.And besides.Who cares if we are underdogs?At this point, I have decided to remove that nomenclature sticker from my head.

I have moved on.

Related Stories from the Author.

About the Author:

As a Consultant by training, I believe in making the complex simple.

Because simplicity adds value.

Simplicity helps us gain clarity, and clarity helps us to grow.

And if we are not growing, then what’s the point of anything else?

What do you think about the article? Comment Below!

This is more about me as a Content Contributor on Medium.

Do reach out and say hi on Linkedin!