My Middle School Secret

Usually, I blog from the third person perspective, but today I want to discuss something a little more personal. That said, I will keep theories, pedagogies, and expert opinions out of this piece. After watching Spellbound I was reminded of something that I had long forgotten. Towards the conclusion of Spellbound, a mother of a former contestant gave a quick little explanation of why she was there. After all, her child was not competing.  She explained to those documenting the event that she and her daughter attend the event because it is one of few places that her daughter feels “apart of.” In other words, the Spelling Bee’s participants are “cut from the same cloth,” they belong to a group (even if the group has not official standing).

The mother’s explanation leaves one assuming that her daughter (and the Spelling Bee group) are not necessarily embraced by the “in crowd” at their schools or communities. This is not hard to imagine. We were all children in middle school and high school at one point, and we likely know how important it is too fit in. While, I did not have a hard time “fitting in,” I did keep a secret from most of my friends in school and neighborhood. I was intelligent. Nothing like an Einstein or anything like that, but things happened in my life that led me to believe that I was smart and capable: I had a mother that believed in me; I pulled straight A’s—always; I skipped two grades in elementary school; I was invited to join multiple GATE programs, I enrolled in community college courses when I was still in the sixth grade, among other things.

During the early elementary school years being considered smart by my peers worked in my favor. I felt popular, and it made me feel good when I was able to help other students (a common practice for me as kid). I was able to make friends and I always felt that I possessed the required social capital deemed necessary by the people in which I often found myself. However, middle school was an entirely different story. One there, it was social suicide to disclose or accept the fact that you are intelligent. For me, being accepted by my peers was far more important to me than being considered smart by my mother, teachers, or other adults. I began to “dumb down” my responses in class. I would purposely not raise my hand when I knew the answer to the teacher’s question. I would schedule talks with each of my teachers, so they knew not to pick me out in the crowd and blow my cover. During STAR testing, I would fill in all the little bubbles and then go back and change a few so that I knew they were wrong. I did this because it was common practice among my friends to compare “ranking.” However, they were not comparing for high marks, comparisons were being made on how “low” they scored in relative to one another. Knowing this in advance, I would forge my test results while I took them. For the most part, it worked. I was never ostracized for being smart, but I did go to great lengths to conceal the truth.

The mother in Spellbound (discussed above) expressed that the event was a place where her daughter could come and feel like she belongs. It was a place where her daughter was celebrated and honored for her intelligence, instead of ridiculed and excluded. I remember when I found a place that made “me” feel honored and celebrated, and not the “me” that I showed my friends, but the real me. Throughout my school career, I was invited to join various GATE programs and programs for the highly capable, but I never really did get invested. As a young child, circumstance, like multiple relocations and divorce, made it impossible for me to participate in those programs for very long. Then, middle school happened and anything that identified me as being different than the masses I rejected. That is until I met Mr. Shields. Mr. Shields organized a group of boys that showed promise of exceptionality for the purpose of teaching us the value of education, setting goals, and working hard. This program was sponsored by multiple religious organizations, so there was no direct connection to the school. That was the assurance that I needed—a safe and discreet program.

When the mother of the previous spelling bee champion explained her reason for her and her daughter’s continuous attendance to the annual event, I related on a deep and personal level. I remembered what it felt like to finally find a place that I could be myself without the fear of rejection for doing so. In a society where intelligence is prized and ability valued, older children often have a different take. As with many other worldly issues, teenagers often take the perspective in direct contrast to those in authority. Intelligence is a valuable commodity in society, but as long as adults value intelligence it will never be “cool,” or openly desired by children amongst their peers. Well, at least not until it becomes “cool” and desirable to be considered intelligent.