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6 june 2002

smart

This week, I've been engaged in Howard Gardner's theory of Multiple Intelligences. As far as I can tell, this has quickly become a very big deal in the world of education over the past ten years. Schools throughout the country, in fact, have become "M.I. schools", structuring their curriculum and teacher development around the theory.

The idea of Multiple Intelligences speaks for itself; it states that everyone (with the exception of those suffering from organic or traumatic brain damage) is smart, but perhaps not across typical academic disciplines. It used to be that if you were smart in English and or math, you were intelligent--period. If you didn't do so well academically, but were a brilliant artist or musician, you were an eccentric annoyance. People wished you well, and hoped you were able to move out of your parents' home before the age of 37.

So I've been taking these tests to measure my own intelligences; there are nine of them. I took several of these tests, and then plugged the results into a little database that normalizes the results. So, presto-bingo, I learned that:

• My dominant intellectual strengths are verbal/written, existential, and intrapersonal. Those scored at 100 percent. Not a huge surprise. I have navel-gazing tendencies, and then I write about them. Sue me.
• I had 90 percent strength in naturalist and bodily/kinesthetic disciplines. Not too surprising. I'm active, athletic, and enjoy dancing and outdoor activities. Then I write about them (see above).
• The rest of the scores (except one) hovered at the 70-80 percent mark. These included musical, logical, and interpersonal. I function pretty high in these areas, but there's no genius really lurking in here.
• Visually/spatially, I bombed. This was what they call "art smart", people who are at their best with pictures, design, and the like. I don't write about those too much, since I suck at them.

I have to admit that my personal jury is out on tests like this and their ilk: Myers-Briggs (I'm an ENTP, for those of you who follow that stuff), etc. On one hand, I appreciate the ideals in differentiating our strengths among one another. It's nice to know that I can talk with so-and-so when I'm made to complete, say, a visual art project. While I love and appreciate art and its history, I can't illustrate my way out of a paper bag.

On the other hand, do you ever feel like we've gotten a little carried away with all this branding? Just lead us to the ranch and get out the hot iron, boys. Burn who we are and how we're smart onto our keesters, and send us on our way. Corporations, in fact, as part of this whole team-building, one-stop-life-in-a-box, now base at least a percentage of their hiring decisions on personality tests. Think I'm kidding? Refer to the Worst Company in the World when you get a moment. They bring you "on board" because you're a "good fit", offer you concierge service, buy your lunch, and set up a structure in which they erase the line between your personal and professional life. Your best friends don't work here? You'll make friends here...or else.

That's just creepy.

This all gets me to thinking that these tests are good and nice and I'm functioning as well as any other schmuck out there...with some exceptions, of course.

So I'm having a very nice conversation about this and that yesterday, when the subject of Ferrigamo (sp?) comes up. That, and a bunch of other Italian-sounding names. "What's that?" I ask.

He looks at me, stunned. "You don't know what Ferrigamo is?"

I was starting to sweat this one, wondering if it was the new president of Italy or something, and then kicking myself for missing that news story.

"No," he says. "They're shoes. They're all shoes. You mean you've never heard of [blah-blah], [blah-blah], Marinara Spaghettini, and Dolce Vita?" (or something like that. Whatever.)

Well...no. Shopping isn't high on my list of fun things to do. Shopping for 300 dollar shoes that come to a point in areas where my feet don't.... No offense to those of you who buy these things, but that's high on my list of sort of dumb things to do.

It occurred to me that this is an area in which I am, at the very least, unlearned.

I am retail-challenged. I ride the short school bus to the mall.

So here's the thing: my general lack of knowledge about what people are wearing, decorating their house with, and what's cool to drive--it doesn't bother me much. I don't feel much need to keep up with the Joneses, unless one of them just stole my watch and is running down the block with it. Because, you know, my watch is damn cool.

Sometimes, it does bother me. My ignorance doesn't bug me so much for what I don't know, but for what so many other people seem to. Furthermore, they believe that knowledge of these things is very, very important. They believe that possession of said stuff is even more important. They are what they own, and what they wear. They allow their purchases to shape them.

Maybe this wouldn't bother me so much if my students could quote Martin Luther King, Jr. better than they could the dude on the Sprite commercial. Or if they could recognize a Canadian flag faster than a pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans.

In my small and unobtrusive way, I think I'm protesting the value that we Americans place on retail and brand intelligence. I'm not voting for it with my dollars. I'm alarmingly ignorant of brands and styles by choice. It's been eight years now--count them, eight--since I purchased a women's fashion magazine. I'll start buying them again when they focus on what's in the woman rather than on her. In the meantime, I'll enjoy my blissful ignorance, thanks.

There are days...moments...that I wish I could just give up my ideals in good conscience. I really do. I feel sometimes that I'm just out here flapping in the wind, a tattered flag fighting the good fight long after the troops have gone home. Those moments are, thankfully, rare. At my core, I find no joy in being entirely trivial. I find no joy in complicating my life with a bunch of extraneous crap, even if it is pretty, pointy, and Italian.

Some knowledge gets you through the day.

I want the kind that carries me through my life. I guess that's the thing.