Many years ago, Billy and I were members of a local gym which frequently hosted member appreciation days. On one of those afternoons, a friend and I wandered around sampling smoothies, enjoying 5 minute neck massages, and taste-testing new protein bars. As we polished off the last of the smoothie, I noticed a young, fresh-faced trainer offering to show me with a "new" gadget what my body fat percentage would be. Yikes! Tucker and Tanner were only toddlers, so I wasn't too far removed from pregnancy and baby weight. I'm not sure that is a number anyone would want to know; however, I had been working really hard at the gym, running and taking classes while the boys hung out in the child care room. Maybe I would be pleasantly surprised. Maybe this would just continue to encourage what I was already doing. Alright, I decided. Let's do this.
I walked up to the young, fresh-faced trainer and told him I wanted to "take this test" and find out my body fat percentage.
"Sure," he smiled back. "I just need to get a little information from you first."
"Sounds good," I said, maybe with a touch of regret.
"Ok, how tall are you? 5'9", 5"10"?" he asked, ready to punch it in on his new gadget.
I giggled. "Uh, no. I'm 5'7"."
"Oh, ok. And weight. What are you, 115, 120?" he asked in all his youthful wisdom.
I giggled even more. "No, but let me stop you right there. If I look like I'm 5'9 and 120 pounds, I don't care what my body fat percentage is." And I walked off. I was happy with what I had been told and realized I didn't need a number on a machine to solidify that feeling. And just what if? What if that number hadn't lined up with all my hard work and my 5'9" image? What might that have done to me and my fitness journey? Would it have put a damper on all that hard work I'd been putting in?
A few weeks ago, my students took their state tests, a piece of cake for some, but a stressful time for others. You see, our classrooms are filled with some of those students who put in the hard work and the time: the "extra" work at school that not everyone else is doing; they go to tutoring, do extra homework at night, raise their hands during lessons. They're superstars, all of them 5'9" and 120 pounds. But, unlike my fitness test so many years ago, they didn't get to simply walk away with those achievements and numbers that they work their butts off for daily. Unlike me, they had to take the test, to punch in the numbers and wait for "the gadget" to tell them what I already know and see every day. Sometimes, those numbers lie. They don't measure and can't show the potential I see every day. Sometimes, gadgets stink.
I'm proud of all my students, but sometimes, I wish, like I did so many years ago at the gym, they too could turn and walk away from the test, taking with them only the words of affirmation they hear from us teachers every day. No scales, no scores, just the words from me that I hope they will remember today and so many years from now: "You are not a score! You are not a number! You are amazing!"
