Superlatives

When I was in middle school, I won a yearbook superlative for "Most Talkative". This didn't surprise my parents, who had been called into school each year for conferences with my teachers about how to handle my incessant talking. It didn't matter who I sat next to, conversations ensued, and I made a new best friend (and annoyed my teachers). While I wished that I had won some "better" or "more important" superlative like Most Popular, or Best Dressed (not a slight chance at either), I remember feeling excited to be recognized for something.

Senior year superlatives were an even bigger deal. In middle school, there were numerous winners for each category, so you had to share the glory and fame of whatever title. In high school, one boy and one girl was selected for each, from the whole senior class, and, it was quite a big deal (or so it seemed then). I didn't really expect to win anything - I'd never thought of myself as a person who stood out. But, when they announced the winners over the intercom one day, I remember feeling surprised and excited when I heard my name. I was recognized. I was "somebody".

"Most likely to succeed: Mary Matthews"

Looking back on it now, I'm not sure what exactly that superlative even means. Best smile, best dressed, these made sense. But "most likely to succeed"? I suppose it meant that I got good grades, and my fellow classmates thought I was smart. It probably meant they thought I'd go to a good college, and end up with a good job.

Success is a funny thing, something hard to define. I don't think what college a person attends or graduates from makes them successful. I also don't think it has to do with ones job title or the number on their paystub. Some people do think this way. I was told by multiple people, "You're too smart too be a teacher" or "You're JUST going to teach?" I'd like to say those remarks didn't bother me, but, in all honesty, they were a blow to my pride. I missed the "oohs" and "ahhs" I received when I told people I was a biomedical engineering major who planned to go to medical school. A religious studies major in the 5 year teaching program doesn't get the same reaction. Still, my identity, for so long, was centered around this superlative, and the performance and drive that had preceded it. I had to do great things and be something great. People expected it of me, I expected it of myself.

I feel like over the past 6-7 months, God has been working on breaking down my pride. I don't have to be "most likely to succeed" in the sense of impressing everyone else in order for him to love me, or in order for me to be a successful person. Success might look like loving one of my students when he or she really needs it and helping him or her in substantial, life-changing ways, not like getting them all to pass the SOLs. Success might mean putting my husband and family over my career, and not like winning the Golden Apple. It might look like eventually being a stay at home mom who loves my kids and husband with everything I've got, and not like having a fancy house or taking nice vacations or enjoying other "two income" luxuries.

Though I still am a bit unsure what success means, I know it has to do with following God, no matter where he leads, and NOT worrying about meeting everyone else's expectations.

Oh to be "Most Likely to Succeed" in that way.