Attention Starved (Or, How I Failed Driver's Ed)

Lighten up, Francis.

I’ve told this story a dozen times in my life and everyone reacts in the same way. “How the hell can you fail Driver’s Ed?” I wish it was a simple answer, and one that was much funnier than what I’m about to lay down. 

I took Driver’s Ed in tenth grade.  In a half-year class, we would split between ridiculously easy and redundant classwork and driving cars in a parking lot.  Passing the class meant you would receive your Florida driver license, and all you would need is to go to the DMV and have a crappy picture taken. Everyone did it, and I took the class assuming I would do the same.  I aced the classwork, but when it came to going out to make sudden stop maneuvers and parallel parking, I froze.  I sat and watched as everyone else took turns slowly learning how to drive in leased Oldsmobiles.

The teachers were coaches first and foremost, and when I just sat to the side when it was time for practice, they just ignored me. I refused to go and they allowed me to do so. Day after day. For weeks.  When the semester was over, they gave me the failing grade I deserved.

Why didn’t I drive?  I was petrified.  Why didn’t anyone offer to help?  I don’t know.  I was fifteen and scared of everything.  I wasn’t just afraid of cars, I was afraid of adults, other kids, school, the world…  But it didn’t matter.  I did the same thing in my Chemistry class.  I remember a hand-written progress report to this day.  After an “F” was circled for my grade, it read: “Reads novels in class.”  He was right.  I was in my Stephen King phase.  It, to be specific.

So, what did my parents say when they saw my grade?  Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.  They said nothing because they never saw my grades. They never saw them because they never asked for them. My brother and I grew up in an environment where we weren’t exactly the focus of the household goings-on.  Sometimes, I believe, we weren’t even an afterthought.

But this isn’t about bashing my parents. It’s about attention.  I needed it and I never got it.  We like to believe as adults that there is a way we can suck it up and just own the shortcomings of our upbringing.  There is a strength is realizing what you lacked and then moving on with your own life as you see fit.  I’m on board with that.  But, there are a few wrinkles to that process.  The primary one is that if your ability to own your problems in itself was affected by the events of your past.  It’s like conducting brain surgery on yourself. (No, it’s not…terrible simile.)

When I was thirteen, a few years before my ill-fated Driver’s Ed class, in the snowy confines of Upstate New York, I was sledding with my cousins.  My brother and I spent the afternoon riding on snowmobiles, dragging behind them and having a good time.  When we were about ready to pack it in, I remember sitting at the bottom of a small incline in my aunt and uncle’s back forty.  I was alone; everyone else was heading inside.  For some reason, I feigned an injury.  I think I may have rolled my ankle, but I wanted to pretend that it was more severe. I wanted to wait right there until someone noticed I was gone.  Eventually, my cousin came back and gave me a ride on the snowmobile.  I think of that moment all of the time.  I wanted so desperately for someone to miss me.

When you need attention and you don’t get it, it is like you are a non-person.  You think of yourself as invisible and not worthy of anyone’s time.  If you take up someone’s time, you constantly feel as if you are intruding.  You don’t belong there because you don’t belong anywhere.

 I failed Driver’s Ed because I was anxious, and I accepted that no one helping me through it was how things should be. I was used to being unnoticed.  I look back and I’m pissed at those asshole football coaches disguised as teachers, but I mostly have a melancholy feeling. I was sitting there, alone. So many hours wasted feeling like a pile of dog poop.  For no reason at all.

If you’ve met me, it doesn’t take long to figure out I’ve lived a long life of attention- grabbing.  I loved comedy and comedians, I like to perform, I like to be funny and tell stories and be open and silly.  That’s not the entirety of me, but it’s a sizable chunk. I also married someone who requires almost no attention, leaving me to own the room, in a sense.  I might not need the attention like I used to, but it is so ingrained in my personality that I don’t know how I would separate it from myself.  Sooner or later, I guess we do become our defense mechanisms.

I hate projecting my issues on the world, but I have to think there are millions of people who would be convinced to make better choices if they just have someone listening to them. It’s not a universal cure; but just imagine if more people felt noticed, appreciated, heard.  This, in particular, kills me when I think of it because it is so easy to fix.  It doesn’t need congressional approval or a budget.  It’s a people thing. It can be accomplished for free.  Reach out to those who have a hard time doing so.  Communicate.  Listen.  These are all basic actions that we could all benefit from.

The following summer, I took Driver’s Ed and got an A.  I believe the way I got through it the second time was to think to myself: Failing Driver’s Ed is stupid.  Let’s not do that again.