Nothing Could Be Better and Nothing Ever Was

Coming from a secondary school that was hardly a representative sample of the types of people in this world, one where an 85% was enough to get you on probation, one where effort was acknowledged with medals and pins, college was a sobering experience. It looked me in the eye and said, "You aren't the best anymore. A's aren't for everyone."

But the talking-to wasn't fully successful (in your face, college!). Whenever I receive back a graded exam (the only thing worse than taking it), I look through my mistakes (unfortunately, there is always something or the other), then look at my grade. Then I think to myself, It's okay. It's probably a little above average. And even when in no universe could my grade be above the average, I rationalize, I'm probably still above average in the class.

Somewhere in the middle of my Game Theory course (where exam grades typically ranged from 9 to 100%), the professor asked us all to off a corner of our notebook paper and answer a simple question. "It's kind of a pop quiz," he said with his all-too-knowing smile. The question: Do you think you will perform below, at, or above average in this course? With little thought about my performance in the class up until that point, I scribbled my response and sent the paper forward. After reading through the responses, our professor looked up and said in his expertly sardonic tone, "Interesting. Everyone thinks they are at or above average."

It sounds wonderful, but it is actually physically impossible. Your elementary school teacher probably explained averages the best -- There are some numbers above and some numbers below the average. Nobody wants the distinction, but someone has to be below average. It's just the way it works.

What's disappointing, though, is that this distorted student mindset translates into social situations as well. As always, there's some cognitive bias or another to blame it on. Illusory superiority, or the better-than-average-effect, is a cognitive bias in which each of us overestimates our possession of favorable qualities: intelligence, kindness, generosity, the list goes on. I would never do that, that could never happen to me, I am better than that. We see ourselves before others. We see ourselves better than others. We are blinded by ourselves -- our goals, our plans, our wishes, our motivations.

Sure, maybe on a grand scale people perform charitable acts for strangers and friends (the distribution is normal in the long run, right?), but in the day-to-day, there are few people who truly think of others. If we all really do think that we are better than everyone else, shouldn't we take a moment to stop and think of them? Think of how to bring them "up" above average?

When I received back my first graded Game Theory midterm, I, on the brink of a panic attack, called my dad. A man of great wisdom, he was hardly fazed. "Did you try the best that you possibly could? I don't care how others performed and you shouldn't either." It was at that point in my college career that I decided I was above the curve. Not meaning that I was always the best, but that I was above thinking about the curve.

Substituting the academic curve for a social curve, bringing that notion of comparison into our social lives, is the best thing we as a society can do. The best thing we can do for ourselves and others. Think of yourself in relation to others. Adjust for the fact that each of your perceptions is tainted by a touch of human. Put yourself in someone else's shoes and stomp around a bit. It will make you the better friend, the better peer, the better person. And I'll let you in on a secret: We are not our grades. So technically, when it comes to personality, each and every one of us can be above average.