The Brains in the Family

My husband is a wonderful and intelligent man. Sometimes his intelligence makes me want to throw a temper tantrum or cry big crocodile tears. Before I met him I was always the "smart one." Whenever I played a game with a group of friends or family I was the score keeper. I could tally the numbers faster and better than anyone else. I was always the winner in trivia matches. I could always shout out the answers faster than the smart guy on Jeopardy or Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?. I was confident and content in my braininess.

Then I met Mike.

He's smarter than me. Way, way smarter than me. He has a masters in physics. I have a BA in English Education. He keeps satellites in orbit. I write stuff and play with kids.

Since we've been married I've lost my identity as the smart one. He keeps score when we play games. He usually beats me to the punch when we watch trivia game shows. He's taken over my role and I'm somewhat at a loss.

Of course, it is nice not ever to have to think about the bills since he's much quicker at taking care of them. And I like putting my brain in neutral and asking my brilliant husband to figure out what time it is in Oregon. But...

My self-worth has always been closely bound to my intelligence. I was the teacher's pet. I got the best grades in all my classes. I may not have been invited to a lot of birthday parties, but I loved who I was. Any time there was a gold star chart or reading competition my column of points was twice as long as everyone else's. I reveled in the praise the adults lavished on me. A teacher saying a kind word was worth more to me than all the birthday party invitations in the world.

When I went to college things changed. A lot. They got even better. Being smart was no longer some kind of stigma that made me undesirable to my peers. My intelligence was a strength and people sought me out as a study buddy and writing tutor. At last I was no longer hanging out with the freaks and geeks; I was marginally popular and having the time of my life. To top it off, my grades were almost always As and the professors loved me. Every paper was scrawled with notes that swelled my head: "Great job!" "Good insight!" "I enjoyed reading this!" "Very well organized!"

I was (smart) woman! Hear me roar! I was happy, well-adjusted and brilliant.

Then it all came crashing down. My brains were still there, but I was a college graduate out in the real world. The real world doesn't have much of a system for evaluating braininess. Sure, employers give yearly performance reports but those are a far cry from report cards. As I was warned when I started my teaching job, the evaluators are always going to find something wrong with your performance. If they don't they aren't doing their job. It hardly seems fair, but that's how the world works.

After being a straight-A student for sixteen years the real world hit me hard. My first performance evaluation wasn't that bad, but it certainly wasn't a pretty little report card littered with As. Instead it said that my classroom needed more color and my handwriting needed improvement. I wasn't exactly crushed, but I certainly wasn't riding the emotional high that a good report card could bring.

I talked to some of my fellow teachers about this and the recent college grads all understood. Most of us were overachievers who were accustomed to being evaluated and praised for our work. The real world shocked us all and was fairly depressing. How do you go from superstar to worker drone without some sort of major mental shift?

Despite not having formal evaluations, I never really lost that feeling of being the "smart one." My co-workers slowly learned that I was more than the shy girl in the corner. When we'd have trivial pursuit nights everyone wanted to be on my team. I helped more than one friend write a resume or cover letter. My brains were appreciated, just not in a formal sense.

I guess time heals all wounds. I'm finally used to living a life that doesn't involve grades, but it's not easy. Sometimes I feel like putting together a report card and forcing my husband to grade me. I know just what the categories would be: Cooking, Vacuuming, Budgeting, Laundry, Home Décor, Conversation and Sex. Unfortunately I'm not much of a housekeeper so I probably would be a little disappointed in the results. But then again, maybe sleeping with the professor would give me an edge.

Now that I'm married to a brainiac, I'm no longer the smart one. That's just the way it is. It can be tough to accept at times, but over all I wouldn't have it any other way. But believe me, you don't want to play trivia with us.