In my lived experiences, people defy categorizations. While I am the first to try to identify an Enneagram number for a family member to help me understand that relative’s perspectives, I am also deeply aware that relying too heavily on such categorizations can be a big mistake.
Today, labels are flying, often with ill intent, whether those labels are extreme MAGA or ultra-liberal, woke or anti-woke, Boomer or Gen Z, or pro-life or pro-choice. More often than not, such groups lie on a continuum, and intentional conversation could lead to some mutual understandings. However, this “quick-to-judge” tendency that is becoming so prominent can seep into our family life and affect our children.
We have seen evidence of this mislabeling in the past: We assume that the disruptive student is bad, that the younger sibling will be a classroom star just like his older brother, or that the student who fails to do her homework is lazy. We assume that the organized, well-dressed female classmate is smart. We assume that the eighteen year old with the tattoo sleeve is a rebel, gang member, or even a criminal. Perhaps, we have been the target of such labels. These labels discourage a growth mindset. They also erect barriers and deter community connections.
One of the more common student labels that I see regularly is ADHD. ADHD is a diagnosis but also a label that has gained popularity over decades. It did not exist in public circles when I was in high school, but as awareness of the condition has exploded, so too have diagnoses. Today, over eleven percent of all of our children have received this diagnosis.
I have interacted with hundreds of students over the years diagnosed with ADHD. Every single one of them, though, is unique. I have had ADHD students who are brilliant and creative. I have had ADHD students who are not, too. These students, like all of my students, defy categorization. For these reasons, I usually defer reading any psychoeducational evaluation supplied by the parent until after I have observed the student’s patterns. In this way, I try to escape the dangers of such assumptions.
Student labels deter growth because we change the rules for the students who carry these labels. We may expect less of them, preemptively excusing them from responsibilities. We may treat them differently or exclude them, making life even more challenging for them as they sit on the fringe of society. Ultimately, the use of such labels reflects on us, the label-makers. We should lead our lives with more compassion and attempt to see each student, each person, as a unique human being, in other words, for his or her potential.
This past week, my local power company hired a tree service to come to my neighborhood and trim any tree limbs that could down power lines. The tree company attacked two of my 100-year-old oaks and raped them of a third of their limbs, leaving eyesores everywhere and dangerously setting these trees off balance. They “labelled” every limb that existed above the powerline a danger without thought or ample consideration. There was no art involved in sculpting the trees to preserve their beauty or their health. The tree service attacked them without compassion, and I found myself in the yard, stroking their trunks with empathy.
I hope that we can extend more compassion to our children and to each other in this era of labelling, because we may be next in line when the labels are handed out.