Bumblebee entered the school counselor’s office. She didn’t spend much time here aside from delivering messages from Principal Waller, or for her annual assessment. All Supers had to have one. It was imperative that they be not only physically fit but mentally fit. Being a super hero was no easy job.
“Not this time,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I have an eight-thirty appointment.” Bumblebee wished she had something more important than her worries to bring to Dr. Arkham this early in the morning.
As she looked around the room, she noticed that he had a fireplace mantel but no fireplace. On the mantel were framed pictures of Dr. Arkham at various ages, ending up with a recent one showcasing his magnificently bald head, well-groomed beard, and befuddled stare.
“Do you think I should have smiled more?” Dr. Arkham asked, looking serious.
“No, oh no,” she assured him. “This picture is terrific just as it is. It looks just like you.”
“Well, thank you, Bumblebee,” he said, looking pleased. “Now, what are we here to talk about today?”
It was hard at first. Bumblebee wasn’t like Harley, who spoke before thinking, and she wasn’t like Hawkgirl, who sounded like she had practiced what she was going to say. And she certainly wasn’t like Beast Boy, who just never stopped talking.
“I saw your flyer, the one about feeling like an imposter,” Bumblebee began.
Arkham nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes. The imposter syndrome affects lots of high achievers, and I daresay this school is full of them. People with the syndrome fear that their success may not be warranted, despite evidence to the contrary. They have trouble accepting their accomplishments, dismissing them as luck or timing. They sometimes think they are fooling people into believing that they are something they are not.”
Dr. Arkham lowered his glasses. “Do you know anyone like this?”
Bumblebee wondered if he was reading her mind, like Miss Martian. That was exactly how she felt at times.
“Maybe,” she confessed. “I used to play super hero so much when I was little that now that I’m actually here, I can’t help but think I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. If I were a true super hero, wouldn’t I have been able to save my parents’ house?”
Bumblebee’s eyes began to water. She reached for a tissue. Dr. Arkham had several boxes scattered all around his office. He was famous for buying cases of tissues whenever they were on sale.
She went on, “I know that Principal Waller always says we were accepted here not based on who we are today, but who we can become tomorrow, but what if I’m not who everyone thinks I am? What if I’m not really Bumblebee, but just little Karen Andrena-Beecher, pretending to be a super hero?”
Dr. Arkham nodded. “That’s for you to decide, Bumblebee. The only person in charge of your destiny is you!” He coughed, then confessed, “I read that on a coffee mug.”
Bumblebee nodded. “So you’re saying that I’m the one to determine my fate. That it’s up to me to make things happen, not just wait around and wait for life to lead me? But that I must be present, and more than that, I need to be accountable for my actions and reactions, and accept my successes as well as my failures?”
“Whoa! That sounds excellent. Let me write that down,” Arkham said, nodding enthusiastically. “I wonder if that would fit on a coffee mug?”
“Thank you, Dr. Arkham!” Bumblebee said. She felt better already.
“Before you leave, I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said, leaning forward. “One of the greatest minds here at Super Hero High had the imposter syndrome. This amazing person was afraid of being found out to be a fake, a pretender, and didn’t trust their own accomplishments. But they later learned to embrace all that they had to offer the world.”
Bumblebee’s eyes grew wide. “Who?” she asked.
“Me!” Arkham said, beaming. “Now, can you tell the next student to come in, please?”
As she exited, Bumblebee was surprised to see that a line had formed outside the door. “I guess you’re next,” she told Wonder Woman.