I have a model I call the “badge/shield” theory, which goes like this:
When someone tells you you’re good at something, or when you otherwise believe that you are, it’s like a badge. You wear it proudly, and you want to show it off. It makes you feel good about yourself and you look for examples to practice talents you have badges for.
Example Badge: I think of myself as a good communicator, so I like mediating between friends who are misunderstanding each other, or explaining things to my classmates.
When someone tells you you’re bad at something, or when you otherwise believe that you are, it’s like a shield. You hold it up, often preemptively, against any opportunity to do that thing. The inability becomes part of your identity, and you believe it excuses you from having to do the things you have shields for.
Example Shield: I have a friend who claims she’s terrible at math; I don’t know, because I’ve never seen her try to do any. She won’t calculate tips or split checks, because she has decided that she’s a person who Can’t Do Math and won’t try.
Oddly enough, the seed of this came from a Dear Abby column. A woman had written in frustrated that her husband never volunteered to look after the kids. The advice was to mention to their mutual friends (perhaps when the husband was in earshot) that he was so good with the kids and they really enjoyed spending time with him. The point was to encourage pride in how good a father he was, rather than getting him to do it through guilt or obligation.
Just some more thoughts on what our identies really consist of.
I have a model I call the “badge/shield” theory, which goes like this:
When someone tells you you’re good at something, or when you otherwise believe that you are, it’s like a badge. You wear it proudly, and you want to show it off. It makes you feel good about yourself and you look for examples to practice talents you have badges for.
Example Badge: I think of myself as a good communicator, so I like mediating between friends who are misunderstanding each other, or explaining things to my classmates.
When someone tells you you’re bad at something, or when you otherwise believe that you are, it’s like a shield. You hold it up, often preemptively, against any opportunity to do that thing. The inability becomes part of your identity, and you believe it excuses you from having to do the things you have shields for.
Example Shield: I have a friend who claims she’s terrible at math; I don’t know, because I’ve never seen her try to do any. She won’t calculate tips or split checks, because she has decided that she’s a person who Can’t Do Math and won’t try.
Oddly enough, the seed of this came from a Dear Abby column. A woman had written in frustrated that her husband never volunteered to look after the kids. The advice was to mention to their mutual friends (perhaps when the husband was in earshot) that he was so good with the kids and they really enjoyed spending time with him. The point was to encourage pride in how good a father he was, rather than getting him to do it through guilt or obligation.
Just some more thoughts on what our identies really consist of.
Reminds me of this book) on fixed vs. growth mindsets.