Tamara Sh. (ILE) about explanations

At home, I tried to stay unnoticed, not ask too many questions, so I wouldn’t get snapped at unnecessarily. But in other situations, when I was somewhere alone, that’s what I really enjoyed, of course. I used to restrain myself for a long time; it’s only now that I’ve learned to control myself. The impulse is still there! I’ll give an example.

I loved explaining things. For instance, if someone was standing at a bus stop and asked another person, “How do I get there?” or “Why is this like that?” I knew the answer. And I would just want to start explaining right there on the street: “Well, here’s how you do it,” and I’d explain how to get there. As a teenager, I even sometimes played around with it. If someone was talking on the street or in transport, and they hadn’t asked me, I would still jump in if I saw that the person being asked didn’t answer—I’m smart, after all, and I know the answer.

At school, I wasn’t mischievous. But I would raise my hand for every question the teacher asked. Even if I had only seen or noticed something in passing, I might say, “Me! Let me answer.” The teacher would sometimes respond, “Let others answer too.” If I hadn’t read at all, it could happen that the teacher gave a hint, and I’d think, “Oh! I’ve heard this somewhere!” I could jump in even then, even if I hadn’t read the textbook. I aimed to answer in a way that would earn praise, naturally.

One should be praised for being smart. If someone did something, praise them: “Thank you, you did this so well. Without you, we really wouldn’t have managed here. Yes, it would have been difficult for us without you. But you came, and now everything is fine here.”