My peers and I were the last Canadians who went off to college without the internet. I'm not very old, yet I come from a very different time.
This story is about something that happened to me as a boy, almost 40 years ago. There are no photos nor videos, and as far as I'm aware, there's no audio recording. There's only my memory. What you are about to read is approximately 1/3 historical fact, 1/3 partial memory, and 1/3 confabulation. The confabulation is done to fill in gaps and complete the story so it can be understood by others, not to mislead. Most of this is most certainly just as it happened.
1981
My father was working for the provincial government in Vancouver, British Columbia. We lived in the suburbs. I was in grade 2, and due to the neighborhood we happened to live in, I attended a small experimental school. It seemed normal to me at the time, but I later realized that some of the teaching methods were unorthodox. There were special programs at the school, including a small "talented and gifted" group I was made a part of. We were taught things like reason, the scientific method, skepticism. I was loved by the teachers there. I made a few friends.
As many of us do, I have some clear memories of unique events that happened to me when I was young. Other memories are of less unique events, but which happened on a regular basis. This is the former type.
Special assessment
Exactly how I was brought to the principal's office isn't clear. I believe it was during school hours, so perhaps I was fetched from class. I remember it was sunny, and it was only my 2nd time in her office. This time, I got to sit in the nice chair, across from the big desk.
My principal (who was also one of the teachers there) was present, as were two men I had never seen. The first was sitting next to my principal, across the desk from me. He was smartly dressed, had a gentle face, and his voice was clear. The second man was older, standing slightly behind and to the side, from the back of the office. He was in a dark suit and possibly a brimmed hat. Either I couldn't see his eyes, or I don't remember.
There was some small talk to get me settled. I was reassured that I wasn't in trouble, and that this wouldn't be too hard. I also was given the impression that if I did well, something very good might happen. I don't know if I had been told what that was, or just knew it was something to strive for.
The IQ Test
In the 70s and 80s the "IQ Test" was in heavy use, in research and in practice. The government, especially, seemed to like this test because it could fairly cheaply and quickly provide a fair bit of information about a person. What IQ Tests actually measure, and how those data can be applied, is still an ongoing debate.
I was told to answer to the best of my abilities, even if the question seemed impossible. I was also told to think out loud, or show my work with a pencil. "This is different than other tests," they said. Half answers counted. Some of it was spoken, some of it was written. There was a pad with numbered questions .
It started easy. 23+58? Capital of Canada? How do you spell terrific? It was always the seated man asking (and occasionally making notes).
It moved on pretty quickly to harder stuff. Multiplication - I remember hashing it out on paper while they watched. Logic questions. Questions about what I would do if..? Mazes. Inkblots. Trivia.
I breathed through a lot of the math, but got discouraged at the long division. I hadn't been taught it yet (we had barely even done multiplication at that point). Give it a shot, the principal said. I flipped back in the pad and used a previous question to teach myself long division. My calculation was correct. This elicited a grunt from the man in the back of the room, and my principal openly clapped.
We went on. There were very difficult spelling questions. Geography about far away places I'd barely heard of. History. When I didn't know, they asked me to guess, and I did. Sometimes the guesses made them smile.
Something about my ability to spot patterns appeared to be exceptional. Abstract art patterns, patterns of speech, symbols, mathematical sequences, and so on. "BLANK is to hotdogs, as soy sauce is to rice?" Very few pattern questions stumped me, even at adult level.
They finally found my weakness, though.
Common Sense
The man with the brimmed hat leaned forward and said some quiet things to the other man. A different set of questions was brought out. It started out striking me as silly, almost too easy, but before long I was barely getting through the questions, even with help. And then, he asked:
I realized I had no idea what regular temperatures were. I didn't even know the general range. It was something I'd never come across.
They saw my eyes scanning the walls. No thermostat to give me a hint. "Do I lack common sense?" I thought.
"Celsius or...?" I asked, hoping they wouldn't notice I didn't know the word "Fahrenheit".
"Either one," he replied. "Your choice. What's the temperature in here?"
"It's room temperature," I said, hoping that sounded clever. It got a chuckle from the seated adults, but they pressed me for a number. It seemed they were surprised I couldn't get this, after all the other stuff I'd aced. Finally, I pulled a completely random number from thin air.
"20. It's 20 degrees in here."
The seated man gasped at the same time the principal cheered. "I like it about 22 degrees and it feels perfect in here to me," said the man, "but we accept that answer." He went on to the next question, but he was interrupted by his boss. I don't remember the words, but I remember what he wanted.
They needed to know if I'd pulled 20 out of thin air (yes), or if it was an educated guess (no). If it was a wild shot in the dark, clearly I shouldn't advance to the next question. Sure, guesses were encouraged, but not to allow luck a place in the outcome. The older man decided that it would come down to my response to the question: "Was it luck?"
Tick...tick...tick...
... went the big white analog clock on the wall. My first instinct was to take credit for the answer. I felt a strong urge to please. I wanted to be right. They seemed happy with me when I was right. It seemed like something very good might happen to me if I just kept being right. I don't remember how I decided to respond. Maybe I just went with 'honesty is the best policy'.
It was luck, I told them. This seemed to end the examination. I don't remember being returned to class. I remember being told "it's okay" and "you did amazing". I felt like I'd disappointed them. If I had known 20 (or 22) was room temperature, and didn't have to guess, I would have made it!
When I was grown up, my parents recounted what they knew of the incident to me. "They told us after that your IQ tested extremely highly, just a point or two below genius". When I asked why I hadn't heard that before, they told me the school had recommended they not talk to me about the results, as it may interfere with my progress.
A couple times in my teens, I underwent IQ testing again, under different circumstances, but similar results. I won the Gauss Math Contest twice, went on to get the 2nd highest grades in my high school, breezed through 8 years of university, got a big mortgage, and so on.
But I always wonder what might have happened in my life, had I lied.
Conclusion
After writing that up, and going over it until it's as close as I can get to my memory, I decided to try something else. I haven't sketched in years, but I used to do a fair bit of drawing as a kid. I wanted to show you what the room felt like. This crappy 5 minute drawing gives you an idea.
Looking at it helps bring out a few more details. I remember it being sunny and warm on my left, darker and cool on my right. And I definitely remember the clock. I also seem to recall a tape recorder on the table, which triggers a memory of it being turned on at the start of the session. I'm not completely certain, but there could be an audio recording of it somewhere. If it exists, maybe I'll get to hear it someday.
For years I was left feeling like I narrowly missed out on greatness because I lacked common sense.
But just maybe, it had nothing to do with common sense, or even greatness. Maybe I was rejected because they caught me telling the truth.
DRutter
