I grew up being told I was special. So did you. Parents thrive on the term, using it as a crutch and as an incessant force for reassurance. Let’s face it, for half your life you probably thought your name was either “Special” or “I’m So Proud Of You.” Every time I got an A on a spelling test, I was special. Every time I made a three-point shot on the basketball court, I was special. Heck, every time I didn’t complain about the green vegetables on my plate or said a simple “please” and “thank you,” I was special. You know what I’m talking about. You hear it all the time. And that’s the point: we’ve all heard it.
“You’re one in a million, kid!” Oh, give me a break. I’m not Sandra Bullock in "Miss Congeniality."
But really, am I? Am I really only one in a million? If so, and if there are seven billion people on this planet, then that means there are seven thousand of me living and breathing throughout the world. That's seven thousand.
So yeah, news flash, my friends: You’re not special. You’re not “one in a million.”
The problem with this phrase is that most of us accept it. “Yeah,” we say. “I wanna be one in a million! Actually, I am one in a million!” We fail to even question what might be wrong with that statement. What deeper meanings and connotations thrive within it. We like to take advantage of the free ride that it gives us, the free passes to be complacent and assume our uniqueness. But life isn’t like Monopoly. We can’t pass go. We can’t collect $200 for passing a certain square on a glossy game board without concern for where it is coming from, without wondering why we are being rewarded for such a common, routine act. Why do we play the game of life like easily-manipulated, color-coded pawns? Why are we okay with being “one in a million”? Why don’t we question our individuality and its significance? Why do we settle?
The fact of the matter is we are not one in a million. No, we are one out of those seven billion. We are our own person, with our own talents, our own ideas, our own weaknesses, our own names, our own relationships, our own experiences. Why, then, do we find comfort in using this phrase so frequently and with such little regard for what it's actually telling us? By assuming our own individuality, we neglect to push ourselves to our full potential, to realize our limits and stretch them as far as conceivably possible. Our small successes become our own successes because we are rewarded with “special” recognition. We become one in a million, instead of one in 7 billion.
In his commencement address to the graduating seniors at Wellesley High School in 2012, author David McCullough argued this same point. That being one in a million, that being special, is in and of itself nothing special. He instead argued for the necessity of a distinctive life, a relative life, a fulfilling life as a result of achievement and not by way of a handout from mommy and daddy. He said, “The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special. Because everyone is.”
Don’t settle. You’re one in seven billion, not one in a million. Act like it.
