My parents sent me to private school, intending to provide me with a superior education. Midway through third grade, my parents decided to move, and I was forced to repeat third grade, a decision that delayed my graduation from high school by one year.

The school principal determined that there was something wrong with me. It was yet more reinforcement for me to dwell, and obsess over the fact that something was wrong with me. It was later on, in forth grade that I was sent to a psychologist for evaluation. Surprisingly, the psychologist found nothing wrong with me. Neither did the second, or third psychologist who evaluated me. It was about that time that my parents, at a loss for answers, sent me for an IQ test.

IQ testing is the answer to the ridiculous demands of modern society to have everything measured, quantified, and documented; the external proof and justification necessary to simply accept that someone has the intelligence necessary to perform in specific facets of life. The results of this testing, remained constant after several repeated tests over the span of an entire school year revealed that I was in the high percentile of intelligence, and that I was indeed gifted in Science and English language, yet I was strangely completely lacking any mathematical ability.  I was labeled as gifted, and quickly became an overlooked, often ignored student, with absolutely no friends.

My parents used my IQ testing as leverage against the school, who still maintained that somethings wrong with me, and demanded that I be placed into more advanced classes in Science and English. It was this year that I was also starting to get bullied and treated poorly in school. The school principal had a personal vendetta against me for the actions of my parents constantly using the results of my IQ testing and letters from psychologists as leverage to get me placed in more advanced classes. I clearly remember the sixth grade Science Fair when I built a scale replica of a nuclear reactor, complete with moving control rods, pumps, and water. Sadly, it failed produce any electricity, or sustain any atomic reactions, for obvious reasons, and I was denied an A on the project because I had chosen something that failed to work.

In seventh grade, my parents demanded that I be placed into more advanced classes to better suit my intellect. Instead, I was given unnecessary after school detention; thankfully, however, my parents had a friend who was the school office manager, who always signed my detention notes for me, despite the fact that I never actually remained in detention. Later in the school year, my parents decided that the public school I was attending wasn’t working out well enough for me, so they transferred me to a different public school about an hours drive away from our house.

Going to bed late at night, and waking up early in the morning every day took its toll on me. My parents were so committed to my education that they even considered renting a small apartment closer to the school I was attending so that my mother and I could live there during the school week and come home on the weekends. This plan of action never came to pass, and I spent an entire school year not being able to pay attention because I would show up to class tired. Likewise, my grades suffered.

When the new public school didn’t work out in the way that they had hoped, I was sent away to boarding school from ninth grade until I graduated high school.  It was both a blessing, and a curse.  There were good times, and bad times, but most of the time, I missed being home.  After spending four years away, I graduated high school, and went off to college, leaving behind the wreckage of my school years.

The header image is a stock photo.  This article was written while waiting for laundry to get done at a local laundromat.

If you haven’t guessed already, 99.9% of my work is done on the road.  I’m either out at a cafe, at a laundromat, or somewhere else.

6th Grade, And Other Mishaps | They Came And Wrote Things Down On Paper | These Are The Thoughts Of An Independent Thinker | Somethings Wrong With Me | Making The Case For Why I Didn’t Need An Education

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