“People understand that everyone has different talents. One girl can sing, one girl can dance, and another can paint. But everybody wants to be smart”

“Ilove finals!” I exclaimed at the exact same moment that Gila burst out, “I hate finals!” We looked at each other and started laughing. When the laughter died down, I explained the thoughts behind my declaration. “I love facing an empty test paper and letting all the knowledge that we’ve been learning and reviewing flow out and fill the page.”

Gila glared at me. “Alright for some. I hate looking at an empty test paper, knowing that even though I listen and take notes as best as I can and have spent days studying with Miss Brainy herself, I can’t think of anything coherent to write. We’re just so different. I don’t even know why I’m friends with you, never mind study partners.

“Because we’re as similar as we’re different,” I said mentioning the oft-repeated phrase that was the glue of our relationship. When it came to academics, I was in the top 1 percent of the class while Gila floundered somewhere near the bottom. Still, our learning styles complemented each other; I liked explaining and Gila liked being explained to, so it worked for us to study together even with the difference in our academic abilities.

“Time for a break,” I announced, changing the topic and pulling out some refreshments.

“I take back what I said before,” Gila said jokingly as she helped herself. “This is why I’m friends with you. You know how to win me over by buying me my favorite snacks.”

“You know what really bothers me?” Gila asked as she pulled a Twizzler apart, strand by strand. “I’ve made peace with my academic abilities or lack thereof. I can repeat verbatim all the phrases that have been used to encourage me over the years from, ‘It’s the effort that counts not your grades,’ to ‘School and academics aren’t your whole life,’ and ‘You’re doing your best and that’s fine.’ But I hate the competition that goes on in our class when the tests are returned. It sickens me when I hear girls complaining that they only got a 92 after studying for three long hours. How do you think that makes me feel when I studied a lot longer and only got a 60, which I’m actually pretty proud of, though of course I wouldn’t say that out loud for fear of being labeled dumb? And how do you think I feel when I’m forced to announce my grade to the rest of our class? And if I dare say I’d rather not share — trust me I’ve tried it — everyone makes such a fuss until I’m forced to give in.

“I can’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about grades,” I said in response to Gila’s complaint. “When it comes to production, nobody expects the girls who have a solo or a main part in the act to keep their parts to themselves. So why should it be different when it comes to comparing grades? I can’t sing or act but I do well on finals. So, what’s wrong if I want to share my success with others?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Gila said honestly. “The way you put it, it doesn’t sound different but it most definitely is.” She was quiet for a moment before she spoke up. “I think the difference is that when it comes to production, people understand that everyone has different talents. One girl can sing, one girl can dance, and another can paint. But everybody wants to be smart. Maybe because so much of school is about doing well academically.”

We continued debating the topic, each of us sticking resolutely to our original opinion until I caught a glimpse of the clock and decided it was time to get back to studying.

We decided to stop our debate and agreed to disagree, like we did on so many other topics.