Home / Articles / Updates / June 21 2002 / Large Professor

The Large Professor
Little Johnny's Island

By Dr. John M Berardi, Ph.D.
First published at www.johnberardi.com, Jun 21 2002

Printer friendly version

This column is written, unlike the other update columns, entirely for my own sake. As a result, it will suffer the wrath of my whimsical pen.

I am, among other things, a dedicated researcher, a hardcore athlete, and a passionate university instructor. Most importantly, however, I'm just some guy, on a rock that's spinning around the sun. Since my interests, like yours, vary; each month I'll use this column as my sounding board to bloviate, harangue, and just plain old bitch about stuff.

When I was the tender age of 5, my parents were forced to come to terms with the fact that little Johnny wasn't like the other kids.

Sure, I was roughly their size, I went to bed at the same relative time, I picked my nose just as frequently, and I giggled at my own farts - just like the other kids. But there was one fundamental difference, one that everyone noticed. The difference was that I had absolutely zero compulsion to participate in the group activities of my peers. In other words, I was a consciencous objector to all of their reindeer games.

Then one foggy Christmas eve…Pardon me, wrong story.

Anyway, this behavior, while perfectly normal and natural within my 5-year-old cranium (and again acceptable in my 28 year old cranium), was apparently a taboo in the nap and juice box world of kindergarten. As a good, card-carrying member of the Nazi Teacher Party, my nap supervisor decided, as a result of her thorough training in child psychology and her infinite wisdom, that little Johnny had a problem. If little Johnny was going to be a good functioning member of this here society, he needed some fixin'.

After all, she was 30 years old, cross eyed, single, and had a college degree in the field of education. These qualities surely made her imminently qualified to determine what was in my social best interest. So she called my mom (the parent that would, of course, worry most about little Johnny) and invited her to school for a meeting. Here's what she told her:

"Mrs. Berardi, little Johnny' s such a quiet boy and sometimes the teachers and I worry about him."

"Well, what's wrong?" my mom asked.

"While he's the brightest boy in the class, Little Johnny doesn't seem to play well with the other children. Whenever playtime comes around and the other kids take out games and form groups to color things, your boy heads over to the corner, surrounds himself with his own toys, games, and books - and he plays all by himself. No, no, Mrs. Berardi. Not with himself. But by himself."

"Now, it's not that he discourages the other kids from joining him. But it's obvious that he'd rather be alone so they leave him alone. Curious behavior, wouldn't you say? The funny part is this. Johnny always seems to prefer the books. Now, kids Johnny's age cant usually read so I guess he just looks at the pictures."

"Because of this, Mrs. Berardi, we're thinking of holding him back so that he can spend one more year in kindergarten. He needs some maturity and development. And he has to learn to play well with others."

Ah, the educational system - destroying better minds, one child at a time.

My mom became quite worried. Although she knew that I could read (she was the one who had taught me!) and that I was probably just bored with the other kids, she did have a pretty strong social consciousness. After all, when she was roughly my age she was on a ship with her dad, fleeing their farming village in Italy, entering the harbor of an unknown country, looking for a better life. She knew what it meant to be an outsider, a foreigner looking to fit in. And this was a life she didn't want for her first-born son. So, in my best interests, she decided to sit me down and encourage me to become a better follower.

When she told me what the teacher said, I was taken off guard. I thought I was doing fine in kindergarten. I knew the answers to all of teacher's questions. Heck, I could even provide them in two languages! So then why on earth would I fail kindergarten?

After the shock wore off, we talked about my anti-social behaviors. When she asked why I didn't play with the other boys and girls I didn't have a great answer. I simply didn't like playing with them. I enjoyed my own company more. I wasn't sure if it was the kids themselves that I didn't like or if it was the idea of group activities, but all I knew was that they (and their games) weren't nearly as interesting as what I could come up with by my damn self.

Regardless, determined to pass kindergarten and make it to the first grade, I promised my dear mom that I'd try to make nicey-nicey with the other kids; I'd show that stinkin' teacher. I promised that I'd curl up on a nap mat with the neighbor's kids from down the road and tell juvenile jokes. I promised that I would pretend to enjoy fitting round pegs into round holes instead of reading my books. And I promised that I'd smile while doing it all.

I did try. The problem however, was that it sickened me. And wrapped up in this distaste for socializing, I began to feel guilty for who I was. No matter how independent he or she might be, a 5 year old still seeks approval.

So that teacher, a fine representative of her noble profession, had done her job, a job that she was proud of. In her mind, she was a hero in transforming me into what society wanted. Soon enough I'd enjoy what everyone else enjoyed and I would be a popular young boy. And then, ultimately, a responsible young man. And then one day, I could turn out to be a fine man. Maybe I would also teach kindergarten, as a tribute to the one woman who saved me from a life of anti-social existence.

Unfortunately, what that damned woman hadn't realized, was that her comments gave me my first cognitive taste of self-doubt, my first feelings of incompetence and ineptitude, my first "what's wrong with me" moments. In essence, she tore into the core of who I was - "Johnny's way of doing things is inappropriate and must be altered". She also issued an educational edict - "Johnny must conform lest he fail at kindergarten (of course, failing at life was also implied)". What my savior had done was set in motion a chain of events and a set of behavior patterns that, in the face of continual societal bombardment from teachers, coaches, priests, and well-meaning family members, would take decades to undo.

In life, the impact of our words is astounding. The unthinking, well-meaning messages all around us are insidious. We must always stand guard to protect ourselves from those messages that are intended to harm us. But we must attack, with extreme prejudice, the messages that are offered as benign yet are malignant to the core.

The teacher wanted me to be, what she considered, a happy, well adjusted kid. But what she might have not realized was that no one can ever be happy and well adjusted when they're forced to behave in a way that's not congruent with who they are.

Just look at your own lives for a moment. I bet you've been happiest when you've done things that satisfied your passions, not when you've done things to please others.

In my life, I feel like I've heard it all.

Friends have commented, "Bodybuilding? That's no sport for a skinny kid like you. Look, you cant even bench press 100lbs. Think of all the work you'll have to put into it to get big like those other guys. Come on, let's go shoot some pool."

I didn't go shoot pool. Instead I grabbed some weights, disappeared into my corner, and lifted them over and over again. In 1995 I won the Jr. Mr. USA. I was benching 420lbs at the time.

Family asked "Exercise and Nutritional Science? Philosophy? Psychology? What kind of fields are those?" And then they mocked, "Oh yea John, they just opened up a philosophy plant in town. I heard they're looking for philosophers. If you can't get in there, I'm sure there are lots of jobs for gym teachers. Look, why don't you just get a business degree or something. You're guaranteed a job."

I didn't go for the business degree? Instead, I grabbed a few textbooks, I disappeared into my corner, and this year I'll have as many letters after my name than it takes to spell my name. And every letter represents a degree that I was totally committed to and interested in.

And once upon a time, my guidance counselor told me, "Your aspirations to work Olympic and Professional Athletes are too high. Why don't you just get a recreation degree and maybe you can work as a personal trainer. They make ok money. Only a few rare people can be successful in that arena. I wouldn't expect that you are one of them."

A recreation degree? No, I didn't get a recreation degree. Instead I found a couple of young, independent, like-minded individuals to collaborate with. Disappearing into our respective corners, we emerged with our company, Science Link, Inc. and with johnberardi.com.

The status quo is a stagnant pool. The status quo has never propelled anyone to great achievements. It has, however, denigrated many and denied even more.

Proponents of the status quo assert that no man is an island. In the literal sense, they're right. However, in the end, what we become or fail to become rests solely upon our own shoulders. In this sense, every man is an island. The great irony is that only the individuals who enjoy life on the island have the aptitude to get off it when they want. Those who don't and those who deny that it's floating out there in the great seas of eternity are stranded. Much like Gilligan's island, there's a professor who can make transistor radios out of coconuts but can't build a raft to rescue himself.

So I've embraced island life. I've filled my island with books and the love of knowledge, with barbells and the love of muscles, and with self-respect and the love of my own values. The friends I've chosen are supportive of these values and when they come to visit, they stay for a long time.

So perhaps little Johnny isn't so anti-social after all. Maybe he just wisely selects which battles to fight, which friends to associate with, and which energies to expend on any given task.

I wonder what my kindergarten teacher's island looks like.