Saying I Don’t Know
Why is it so hard to say “I don’t know?”
I struggle with the same situation every day: I don’t understand something, but I don’t have the courage to say it to others.
In my math class, even if I don’t understand a problem, I find myself just nodding along, saying, “whatever; I’ll just figure it out by myself later.” But usually, time, peers, and teachers are all no longer there to help when I look at the problems again by myself at a later time.
There are many reasons why this phenomenon could be happening. Perhaps I can’t admit my lack of comprehension because it seems as though I am failing at something that I should be good at. Maybe I am scared to break some kind of reputation I made for myself. Perhaps it is like turning myself in for guilty of being stupid.
Whatever the reason may be, it is definitely counter-productive. I would be so much better at all subjects if I could just not care and say “I don’t know.”
One of my teachers once told me that being able to tell others that you don’t know is a huge act of humility. How can I obtain this? The barrier of the ego is sometimes too much to bear. But, at the same time, I think that other people will definitely respect someone who isn’t scared to bring forth their blemishes to the class; I can tell from my peers’ eyes that they want to admit to not knowing too, but are unable to.
I believe that this idea relates to the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre’s concept of facticity and transcendence, but I’ll articulate that in a later article.
For now, I’m going to read the book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson.
Thank you for reading.
