Before I get into it, here's some appropriate background music for this piece. I hope you like musicals.

I am sure there are many students of all ages who sympathize with the plight of Leaf Coneybear: they feel as though they are not as smart as their peers.

It makes sense that students are often highly preoccupied with their intellectual prowess, particularly in relation to their peers: we pit them against each other by ranking them in order of GPA, and we reward them by giving merit scholarships based on SAT score. Parents often dole out allowances or iPhone upgrades contingent upon their child’s straight-A report card. Having, at minimum, a bachelor’s degree, is a prerequisite for many entry-level jobs. When it comes to assigning value to human beings, such as in the college admissions process, intelligence is prized above all other factors.

So it is not a question of why students experience crippling anxiety due to the overwhelming pressure to be smart, but rather how we can place so much value on a trait that is exceedingly difficult to define, let alone quantify.

What does it mean to be smart? Does it mean you make good grades? Have a high IQ? What about being “book smart” versus “street smart”? Was Picasso a genius in the same way that Einstein was a genius? If you make an A on a test that you didn’t study for, are you smarter than someone who had to go to office hours every day and attend tutoring sessions even if they ended up with the same grade?

You have probably observed that we don’t value all intelligence equally. Typically, when people say that someone is smart, you can make a pretty good guess as to what they mean: the “smart” person makes good grades across the board, but they probably do especially well in science and math classes, which are considered to be “harder” than humanities. In order to avoid conflating other skills with this stereotypical definition of intelligence, we create different terms for other (read: lesser) ways of being smart. We’ve created the concepts of emotional intelligence and social intelligence (which are distinctly inferior to academic intelligence) and coined the pretty insulting term idiot savant (which reduces a human being to an amusing curiosity) just to make sure that we don’t accidentally bestow the all-powerful crown of True Intelligence on the wrong person.

The American school system can be a soul-crushing, self-esteem-demolishing incubator for stress, anxiety, and self-doubt. Students who easily grasp the curriculum are spirited away from the common plebeians; they are placed in gifted and talented programs, advanced placement courses, and separated from the slow-witted rabble that remains in “regular” classes. It should be no surprise, then, that students who do not quickly and intuitively understand a concept often conclude that they are dumb and that nothing can be done about it. We are conditioned to believe that being smart means understanding something the first time; that struggle invalidates ability.

This is simply not true. It has been shown that students who simply believe that they can improve in a subject actually do, and they outperform their peers who have accepted as a foregone conclusion that they can’t change their abilities. There’s nothing shameful about having to work at a slower pace or ask for help. What is most important is that you persevere, or, in the words of Confucius: “It does not matter how slow you go so long as you do not stop.”

But now, let’s confront an even bigger fear. What if, after all this hard work and effort, you still don’t make the grade you wanted? It seems unjust, perhaps even twisted, that after giving it everything you have, you are not guaranteed an acceptable grade (I think it’s likely that for most of you reading this, anything less than an A would strike panic into your heart).

And to this, I have no good answer. It is unfair. On your transcript, it should read: “B-, but she demonstrated incredible diligence and outstanding hard work.” Unfortunately, there is no such caveat, so all I can tell you is this: making a B- doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Even making a D doesn’t mean you’re not smart. And while I’m at it: why does it matter if you’re “smart” (in the academic sense) at all? It’s heinous that when it comes to measuring a person’s worth, intelligence is weighted more heavily than any other factor.

You’ve heard it before, and probably even said it yourself. “She’s super nice, but she’s just so dumb” or “Yeah, he’s really funny, but he’s kind of an idiot.” A human being’s IQ should not be a condition of their inherent value. People are interesting and multifaceted in many ways, and intelligence should not only mean “academic prowess.”

The good news is that the American educational system results in a completely skewed view of what makes someone intelligent and, by extension, what makes someone worthwhile. Unfortunately, this is also the bad news. We, as a society, must reevaluate the way we think about intelligence and take a hard look at the valuation system we are instilling in our youth.

I leave you with this: you have the potential to expand your knowledge base and to stretch your abilities as a critical thinker. Do not allow others to define you and reduce you to your GPA. Regardless of what your grades say, you are most likely smart in ways that other people aren’t. Perhaps, like young Leaf Coneybear, you have a gentle personality, and that’s worth as much or more than a good SAT score. Ultimately, I hope you can reach the same conclusion that he does: you might be smart, in more ways than one.