Maybe you’re not a beginner

Weight is one of the ways we can measure and compare humans, but it is limited in its usefulness. (Nationaal Archief of the Netherlands)

The other day, I had the privilege of giving my friend Erin an impromptu tennis lesson.

I think of myself as a beginner in tennis. I lack power and spin, hallmarks of a the 2.5 level.

But compared to Erin, I’m experienced. I was the one feeding her the ball, providing tips and feedback, and making decisions about what to do next.

I walked away from that session with a shift in my understanding of my relationship to the sport. If I’m not happy with my performance, I can work harder. But I’m not a beginner in experience or understanding.

There will always be someone who is more experienced and accomplished than we are in any skill or knowledge area we can name. And there will always be someone who is less experienced and accomplished. If we think we’re at the bottom of the ladder, we may not understand why the actual beginners aren’t performing well or offer them any compassion.

One of my least favorite things to hear in the classroom is, “What? You didn’t know that?” When someone gets it wrong or messes up, they need encouragement, coaching, or at least to have everyone else pretend they didn’t notice. It breaks my heart when they receive ridicule instead.

So many of us pick up from an early age the message that we need to downplay our talents and strengths to avoid appearing conceited. And the more self-aware folks among us figure out that we shouldn’t risk being the person who has an inflated sense of their skill level and won’t shut up about it.

As a result of these weird dynamics, it’s hard to get a sense of where you stand. When people who are really good are saying that they’re not very good because they only see how far they need to go — or simply want to appear modest — where does that leave everyone else?

Meanwhile, when someone with an innocent question gets mocked for having the audacity to not know something, it pulls us even farther away from the truth. When you, also, didn’t know that thing, you feel like you must be the only one. You have no way of uncovering the fact that everyone else is hiding out in the crowd just trying to seem like they knew.

Things get even more complicated when there is no objective measure of skill or competence in a given area. Furthermore, how a person performs on a given day might not be adequately representative of their overall skill level.

In the absence of an objective form of measurement, we improvise and make up stories. If we have a habit of putting everyone else above us, we tend to continue do that; if we have a habit of putting everyone else below us, we do that instead. We might end up discouraged that we’re not as good as someone else, haughty because we think we’re better, or lost because we can’t figure out where we stand.

The way out is to recognize that there are many factors that determine someone’s performance. Natural ability, effort, experience, consistency, physical or mental health, age, mentorship, education level, family background — the list goes on and on. We can’t possibly control for all of these.

A few years ago, I went to a restaurant that was playing a DVD of musical performances from Saturday Night Live on a giant projection screen. While I ate chips and salsa, I watched the Spice Girls dance around and noticed how awkward and uncomfortable they seemed.

And then I considered that this was probably one of their first American television appearances. These girls, all in their twenties, were probably scared s**tless. Easy for me to judge them from my vantage point as a thirtysomething nearly twenty years later. I had never thought to empathize with a famous pop group and have compassion for how hard it must have been for them. I couldn’t have done better — I’m not very good with choreography — but I have, now, a maturity and confidence that they hadn’t had the chance to earn yet back in 1997.

I don’t scoff at a twelve-year-old when she doesn’t know what a word means. I’m not competing with her or comparing myself to her. The gap is wide and obvious. I have to remind myself, when the gap I perceive between myself and another person is smaller, that it may still be there; regardless, I don’t have any basis for comparing myself with them.

If you find yourself getting frustrated with another person for not getting it, maybe you’ve become an expert and they’re a beginner. And maybe you’ll be less frustrated with them if you can have compassion for where they are — and for yourself, wherever you are.