My wife is always telling me that I’m smart. It makes me feel kind of, well, weird. I’m not sure why. I’ve accomplished too much academically to dismiss it altogether, but it’s hard to completely accept such praise. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the heck it even means. To be smart, that is. I mean we all say it, referring to those around us as smart or bright. And I know there are tests that are supposed to effectively measure intelligence. But how many of us have actually taken one? And if we have, what exactly has it done to help us? Schools, of course, are notorious for using standardized testing to rank its pupils. But we’ve all heard about the biases inherent in some of these assessments. Furthermore, with more and more ways to prepare and study for these and similar tests, what does a good score on them really mean? That you are able to take a test and do well? That you have the means to afford private classes and tutors? Or...

Chop big or chop small. Chop quickly or chop slowly. But whatever you do, Keep Choppin’!

Not long ago I was going through one of my crazy circuit training routines when one of the employees at the gym looked at me with a peculiar, perplexed, almost confused face. She’s seen me there dozens of times—always friendly and conversant—so I was wondering why she was looking at me in such a manner. Her confused look was actually, well, confusing me a bit. Later she walked by and said “Why do you work so hard? Is it like your thing or something?” I didn’t really know how to respond. As odd as it sounds, I initially felt the way I did when I was in high school, the same way a lot of kids, struggling to find an identity, to fit in yet stand out, feel. I thought back to a time when doing the best you could in school meant you were being a “teacher’s pet”, “bookworm”, or worse yet, a “know-it-all”. I remember...