This is perhaps a long-overdue post, but I always hesitate to bring up the subject at hand. Here, I'll do so with a note: I do not consider myself superior in any way to anyone else on SC or elsewhere, and I'd ask that comments be flame-free. Believe me, I already know how it sounds, though I sorely wish it was easier to convey what I want to say.
That said, I'll start with what prompted this post. I was already thinking about the topic, thanks to another post, and then I stumbled across this article, which made me incredibly sad. (Short version: A two-year-old girl was found to have a genius-level IQ and was invited to join Mensa.)
Why, oh why did that number have to be 152? Just a point higher or lower and I might not have been slapped with this parallel.
My IQ was also found to be 152 on the same test (at four years old, IIRC).
You'd never know it by talking to me or reading my posts (I hope). I neither speak nor write like a "genius," whatever the hell that's supposed to mean anyway.
My heart goes out to that little girl. I have very strong negative feelings about early testing along these lines.
Why?
When will she ever be regarded as a delightful child instead of a pint-sized brainiac, or seen for her playfulness or pretty hair or anything but her mind?
It's bad enough in some ways to be so different - without having it underlined by labels and various "opportunities" thrown your way - opportunities that, if grasped, further draw the lines between you and everyone you so desperately want to get along with, fit in with. The principle of my elementary school frequently (or so it seemed to me - I always dreaded seeing him at the classroom door) pulled me out of class, it was often to ask if I'd take this or that test, and didn't I want to be skipped ahead a year or two?
I used to beg my mom to tell him that she wouldn't allow me to skip grades, because I couldn't figure out a solid argument other than that I was afraid of being further isolated.
(Eventually, the principal gave up, though he insisted on teaching me photography in the afternoons and during school breaks, to give my mind something else to do. I loved those lessons, and that he was willing to teach me however quickly I could soak up what he had to offer. He turned me on to photographing historical architecture, and I was developing my own black-and-white prints in a darkroom by age 7 or so. I still adore photography.)
It's hard to figure out how to deal with comments from adults along these lines: "Do you talk down to everyone, or just me?" and "You don't act/talk like a kid - what's wrong with you?" when you don't really know how else to speak or act. And I was absolutely terrified of becoming like one of my other family members, whose IQ was 170ish, who never laughed or made silly jokes and whose "street smarts" could be best-defined as sorely lacking. What good was a brilliant mind if you couldn't have fun?
It was hard to have fun - I was driven to point out inaccuracies and what I saw as mistakes in everything, and I still sometimes have a lot of trouble stifling the anal Type A personality that apparently grew alongside the rest of me. I wasn't interested in a lot of the activities my peers found entertaining, and they often wrote me off as arrogant (in the same breath as teasing me for being the nerdy sort, of course).
Eventually, it occurred to me that perhaps I could fabricate normalcy to a certain degree. I practiced not caring about every detail, and actually cultivated my speech/vocabulary to more closely match that of the people around me. I'm not saying I dumbed down anything - not at all - but that I paid close attention and learned how to relate to others better than I had in the past. It became a hobby of sorts - to blend in, to improve my "people smarts" above all else, because my skills there were badly lacking.
This is who I am now. I cannot change the numbers, but I can change the depth to which I relate to others, and hopefully I've made some progress there. Sometimes I still feel outside of time, or like a bumbling bull in a china shop. Sarcasm often escapes me because I take things too literally, and I have trouble making jokes - though my sense of humor is well developed (if twisted and weird, but I think that's a requirement for loving Monty Python and the like anyway).
Does it show? Am I as poor a human specimen as it seems sometimes? I desperately fear coming across as arrogant, because that's not who I am and certainly not who I strive to be. I'm the down-to-earth, frumpy mom and housewife you all know, I swear, not some closet Einstein. There's nothing genius about me, and I don't want any part of it.
Hopefully that little girl mentioned in the article will lead a fairly normal life, despite being pigeon-holed into a tiny group at the top of some theoretical ladder. I ache for her.



