I mean, we're all told we're supposed to strive for our highest potential and such -- why do something halfway if you're going to do it at all, and all that, right? -- and yet... outside of personal and idealistic realms, what's really your motivation for giving 110%?

Now, if you're say -- about as bright as Forrest Gump. Then yeah, trying your gosh-darn hardest at everything would kind of make sense, because you're starting with a losing hand to begin with.

By the same token, supposing you really are somehow perfectly average -- while the average person in the US is certainly a whole world of better off ahead of what most of the human race has had to put up with ... and yeah, I'm doing funky sentence structures today, why not? ... even if the average seems okay, unless one is a die-hard optimistic it might still seem reasonable to want to try just a little extra hard -- just so that you have a little extra going for you, should rough times appear.

But. And really -- to a large degree, I blame this thinking on how a lot of our educational system is designed -- for a slightly bright or especially bright person, what's really in it for you to work really hard?

I blame this way of thinking on the education system because as I've experienced, it is by and large geared very heavily towards the majority. Which is to say, we want all of the "average" to have a decent chance of doing well, and as many as possible of the "slow" to still be able to squeak by.

So okay. If, in an academic setting, the bar is set to be appropriate for average and below-average kids ... how exactly hard does a bright kid have to work to excel?

Unless you were in a much better school system than mine (which is really quite possible), you learned fairly early on that really your most minimal efforts would just shine in comparison to most of what the other kids could do -- and so any degree of really challenging or improving yourself that you experience would by and large have to be self-motivated.

I mean, in my school system, not only would such efforts have been completely academically superflous, but potentially even harmful for the kid's overall performance. To be completely honest: Some instructors didn't like kids who were too bright, it intimidated them. Some instructors didn't like students who went faster than their normal pace, because the rest of the class wouldn't follow, and they didn't want to expend the extra effort for just the one or few kids who would.

Sometimes, the instructors were simply not very bright, knowledgeable, or competent themselves. Teachers don't usually like to look dumb, they're unlikely to routinely admit they know less than a student does, and in the end let's face it: as many flawed personalities there as in the rest of the human race. I've had alchoholic instructors, senile instructors, inappropriately religious or political instructors, instructors who were simply too full of themselves to bother teaching ... I don't know about you, but overall I've had far more sub-par instructors than talented ones.

And all this to say -- yesterday evening, after a pretty uneventful and slackful day, I was an hour late for a 3 1/2 hour class, on the day of a test worth 15% of the grade... and why? Because I was busy writing a last-minute paper for that class, which was worth 10% of the grade! For which, of course, I'd already been given an extension.

Now. Obviously I didn't get to take the test -- when my instructor asked why I was late, to be totally honest: I shrugged half-irritably and mumbled something under my breath. So it's rescheduled for me.

During the rest of this class period, I was far more active in the discussion than usual. My interest level was about the same, I just don't bother saying anything normally. But the old dude was literally beaming up there -- somebody out there give's a rat's ass enough to be engaged!

And, at the end of the class, I stuck around to schmooze a bit more. This is a common and easy tactic of mine. I often do find some aspects of class discussions interesting, often enough I have questions of comments on the lecture that I'd realized would have distacted too far off course, but that the instructor would undoubtedly be happy to talk about.

So on the one hand, I'm the student who appears genetically incapable of being on time, and who regularly turns in work late -- yet at the same time, I'm one of the few the instructor is sure is paying attention, is interested, and is thinking about what they're trying to get across.

How does it work out? Mark my words for the end of this semester: I will get an A in this class. Isn't that just sad?

I'll get an A on the late paper. I'll get an A on the test I haven't studied for, that had to be rescheduled for me.

I mean, I suppose I could be rejoicing -- hey, it's all gravy for me while some poor schmucks are working hard for their grade. And yet -- you know, I think it would just be nice to have some things to accomplish that actually require that I really push myself.

Because are you really motivated to push yourself when you don't have to? If so, you really are a better person than me.

And technically a better student, too -- whether the grades reflect it or not.

Rock on, ladies and gents.