Like Words Together Reflections from the deep end of Practice.


So Smart

I don't remember the number at the end of all the interviews, tests, and meetings where the adults talked around me, but not to me.

I do know at the end of it all I was treated awkwardly by teachers who either expected too much out of me, wanted me to help run the class, sometimes they felt a need to make sure I knew who was in charge and they were the smart one. A few wanted me to explore intellectually, but provided to support or guide rails to set me up for success.

Perhaps they assumed I got that at home.

At home it was never the same. Out of the meetings where my Mother was told again and again how remarkable I was. The message to encourage and nurture, provide support and new outlets for my voracious curiosity, was there. Suggestions for additional outings that would encourage me, museums and more books.

The thing is, my Mother already want capable of doing that. All along she gave me the childhood she had wanted. I got a little wiggle room in colors, including bright yellow linens for my bed in highschool. I got to make choices within tightly closed sets.

The sets all taken from an idealized notion of what my Mother wanted her childhood to be.

Out of the IQ testing arose a new, hateful thing to say to me.

"You think you're so smart."

"You think you're better than me/us."

The thing is, looking back over it all, I am better than them.

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