CHOKER OR PANIC
Malcolm Gladwell once wrote an interesting article in the New Yorker about failure. In it he posits two descriptions of failure, choking and panic. Learning skills generally occurs on two levels, explicit and implicit. For example, one learns to write a check by following the example provided by the bank or the company where the checks were bought. Carefully, one indicates the date, the amount in numbers and in script, being mindful to draw a line after the script so no one can change the amount, signing it, including a notation as to the purpose of the check. In a few months, this process is hardly thought of as one goes about one's business. Whereas, one explicitly sets out to learn how to write checks, implicit learning takes over after one has accomplished the task a number of times. It becomes second nature.
Choking in the phenomena of failure is because implicit learning fails to kick in. Say you're taking a test about material you know inside out. The test is important and a prerequisite to advancement in your career. You sit at your desk and look over the exam papers; the questions are about material you know well, but you cannot for the life of you formulate answers, your mind working like a washing machine set on the spin cycle. You simply keep looking at the paper in front of you . . choked. Under less pressured circumstances implicit learning would kick in and the test would be easily completed. Failure attributed to panic is the opposite of choking. Whereas, in the former situation one's mind spins with a million inappropriate thoughts, there is a perceptual narrowing in panic. Only one thought dominates, one solution, excluding other more viable options. A musician friend provided me with his example. He had an audition with a prestigious symphony. Preparing for his audition, he focused solely on his ability to carry it off with calm and grace. He was so anxious that his fear would overwhelm him that he did not give enough attention to his music. "The only thing I could think of throughout the audition was that I should look at ease. Over and over again, the thought reverberated through
my head." I had a dream back in college that assesses this choking phenomenon: I, along with a group of women, am standing at the foot of a spiral staircase looking up. We are dressed in formal gowns awaiting the men coming down the stairs. And when they do, we all pair off and enter the dining room. Four of us sit at my table; I am wearing a smart neckerchief (my choker) that I remove and proceed to ingest. Then I get up and walk out to the lobby where nuns are running a concession stand
that sell lemons. Bitter fruit indeed, what the dream conveys, not too subtly, is that I've been indoctrinated to believe whatever nourishment and rewards I am to receive in life will come down through figures of authority. I've been taught to obey. And my attempt at rebellion even furthers my submission by incorporating it in me (eating the choker.) Outside of this world of obedience, the nuns point out is bitterness and negation. Fear of rejection chokes one up every time.
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