Sit Down and Shut Up: How to Be a Perfect Student

I feel like prey, paralyzed by a predator. I can’t move, or talk. I stare at this predator, and my friend stares back. She’s whispering about all the icks and peeves she has towards one of our mutual friends. I hate what she’s saying, but I can’t speak.

I sit there like a fool, afraid to interrupt the teacher or anger my friend, afraid of what they’d think of me. I stay quiet. This is what I was taught. Our school system has made me crush my real identity and conform to others’ expectations, and it has led to a lifetime of struggle.

Elementary school taught me that, to be on top and succeed in life, you keep your head down. Do whatever the teacher tells you to do, without complaining. My second-grade art teacher told my class to sit “like Mona Lisa – hands in your lap, mouth shut the entire time,” every morning. If anyone uttered a single word during work time, she would point at the portrait of Mona Lisa on the wall, asking, “Would Mona Lisa act like this? Be quiet, please.”

These lessons in silence gave my teachers short-term relief, but have left me with long-term consequences. I’ve been unable to break out of the cage of perfectionism and people-pleasing. A lot of that has to do with how my teachers and schools responded to my actions. Teachers would always reward me when I sat mute, still, and obedient. They would say, “Thank you, Guthrie, for listening to me. Can you all follow her lead?” Or, “Look at Guthrie, she’s doing perfectly.”

I was the kid they sat next to the ‘troubled kids,’ hoping that my good manners would rub off on them. The resulting constant validation from my superiors got to my head, and let me know I couldn’t be any less than perfect. I had to be the perfect friend, the perfect student, the perfect daughter.

In fifth grade, I tested to be in the Quest program. I had a good chance of getting in, considering my perfect performance at school. I sat at a desk in a dark, hot room, my hands shaking, and took the tests. Months later, my parents got my results. I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough, by mere single digit points. My parents told me it didn’t matter, didn’t reflect on my intelligence. “It’s all ok.” Still, I could tell they were really angry. I didn’t want to feel disappointed or sad, so I tried to just move on. I took those tests twice more, and never got in. My sisters had gotten in right away. In my mind, I was officially the dumb sister. I was even offered admission because both of my sisters were in it, but I said no because I felt like I didn’t earn it. Those were my sisters’ achievements, and I wasn’t smart enough for it.

In middle school, nothing changed. I got new friends, new teachers, new subjects in school, and still I was “perfect”. So why didn’t I feel like I was doing enough? I had everything I’d ever wanted, but I needed more. More A’s, more friends, more perfect. I worked even harder. I started to get tired. Really tired. Life became too exhausting to stay in 24/7, so I read constantly. It provided a fake reality with a concrete end, where I could pretend to be someone else. My first phone became a better escape. Every day after school, I sat and scrolled. I didn’t have any energy or drive to do anything else. This was when I was elected the April Student of Distinction. I was in the darkest place in my life, but I still worked and pushed through for the validation I now craved. My goal had been to be on the Student of Distinction posters ever since I’d first seen them in sixth grade. The pride of getting through wasn’t enough. The April poster shows me and another student looking at each other. Principal Lubben gave me the option to face each other or out, but I needed him to choose. I couldn’t be the decision-maker; what if the other student didn’t like it, or what if Lubben wanted us a certain way? So I said something that made life easier, but not better: “I don’t care.” After my designation as the April Student of Distinction, I felt like I couldn’t be anything less than flawless, since I was good enough for that ‘honor’. I thought I had to earn it, even though I’d already been chosen.

When I reflected on my life at the start of freshman year, I realized how much the behaviors my schools have ingrained in my little kid brain hurt me. For a while, I was stuck knowing I wanted to change, but not knowing how. Time and self-advocacy have helped. I don’t think I’ll ever be fully free of my perfectionism and people-pleasing, but I’m trying. I’ve noticed that people who have been affected by situations like mine are usually women. A 2022 YouGov Survey found that 35% of men reported people-pleasing, versus 46% of women. Women mature earlier than men, leaving them more greatly influenced by experiences in elementary school and earlier.

You don’t have to live your life for others. Schools want us to all be and act the same so that we’re easier to control. At BHS our motto is “Kind, Proud, Driven, Leaders.” But the leaders BHS acknowledges aren’t often leaders in their job, or kids who’ve created programs to improve life, they’re usually the kids facing mountains of pressure to do everything right. The ones who were raised like me, conditioned into silence and obedience, forced to act like adults before they even reached double digits. The Mona Lisas.