Diversity in Intelligence

              I hated school as a child. I felt recess and gym were the best classes. I have always been active, loved the outdoors and took a strong passion for animals. I never knew as a child that people can have different types of intelligence. I took a psychology class several years ago and it was there that I learned about Robert Sternberg.

He developed a theory that intelligence deals with three different types of intelligence: analytic, creative, and practical. Analytical intelligence is the only one measured by traditional intelligence tests. Although analytic intelligence is important for the success in academics and some other areas, Sternberg argued that school should not base people solely on the basis of this kind of intelligence. I agree with the man.

The phrase, “dances to a beat of her own drum” has been used on numerous occasions to represent my life. Some might call it free spirited or strong willed. I admit it. I own that whole heartedly. I was never a bad child. I just wanted to please people and always tried to do the right thing. However if I got pushed and had my mind set there was no going back for me. I will never forget the story my family has told from when I was about three years old. We were all at a family reunion and I had done something wrong. My mother tried to correct me and sent me to go sit in time out. I turned my back and over my shoulder stated in a long drawn out voice, “You asshole” Yep that was me. Of course my mother was shocked, embarrassed and utterly mortified. Children pick up on the dandiest things. It helps to give you some insight.

      I went through school as a child struggling. I was bored out of my mind and h-a-t-e-d school.

I always looked out the window and dreamed about anything besides being forced to sit, stay still and read from a textbook. I wanted to feel the dirt, hear the trees move and watch the water rush down the rivers. If I could maintain a passing grade I would wipe my hands and call it a good day. However, teachers and other adults were not so thrilled with my lack of motivation. My mother was a school teacher so I felt that she took it personal that I was not the honor roll student. It was not until I reached the age to play sports I had to take a different approach. School required athletes to maintain a minimum grade point average.

To this day, I still remember a turning point.  I had a biology or was it chemistry teacher? Anyways the teacher in high school pulled me in the hall one day during class. He wore glasses and always had these noisy cowboy boots with pants that went too far up his waist. He threatened me about my lack of effort in his class. He wanted me to do more and if I didn’t, he threatened my athletics. He insinuated that I couldn’t thrive in his class and that alternative measures might need to be considered. He openly admitted to not liking athletes. When that did not work he approached me again stating that maybe I needed to repeat the class over because he worried about my intelligence and my ability to comprehend. Whelp that pushed me. How dare him!? I had the minimal grade. I did enough to play sports. I lived and breathed them but to undermine my ability pushed me to draw a line. I had to take time away. I forced myself for over a week to study the entire material for the upcoming exam. I fell asleep nightly with an open text book and papers all over my bed and floor. I was determined to prove him wrong.

I took the test. He called me outside the classroom again after handing out all the exams. Out of all three of his biology classes I was the only one who aced his test. He took great pride in creating challenging tests and seemed to thrive off of students not receiving A’s. Therefore he accused me of cheating. I admitted to him of my constant studying habit. He informed me that he knew I actually had it in me all along and to keep up the good work. I never did. I proved my point and went back to my minimal efforts. I was not interested. The material bored me to tears and in my mind, why would I ever again use pipets, goggles and flaming torches to create some chemical reaction. I could have cared less.

My entire school years had been the same story, except college. College you choose, in some ways what to study. However, during the younger years I lacked motivation and the teachers had questioned several times if I needed more assistance. They never provided it because once the milestones crept up, I would achieve them and go right back to sliding through each school year. However, here is what teachers did not realize. I took a strong passion for animals. I checked out every book I could and read up on them. I became borderline obsessively interested in reading on one topic until I soaked up all the information I could and then moved on to the next subject. I had an old dog book that listed all the different breeds from around the world.  If you’re speaking sports or animals then you are speaking my language.

The book was bigger than most people’s bibles with full blown color pages and detailed descriptions on color differences, ear sets, origin and traits of each breed. I read that book forward and backwards. If I did not understand a word, I researched it in a dictionary. The book became so worn out it kept falling apart. On several occasions my mother had to duct tape the spine back together. Had anyone tested me on dog breeds, I would have looked like a gifted dog expert. Sadly that never happened thus most adults totally missed out on what areas I was gifted. I am a visual learner and being active such as sports has always come easy for me.

My love of animals has led me down some truly amazing adventures over the years. From horses and barrel racing, chickens running on treadmills, dogs pulling our children in carts to working with a friend at her pet sanctuary with the cute little wallaby named Walter and then to my own history of pets and funny stories.  My life has never been dull to say the least. I love them! They keep my life entertaining and fun. Even just yesterday a friend worked out the arrival of a new feathered creature. His name is Larry, you know Larry the cable guy? He is a goose. A very large goose who meets my 8 year old at eye level. His mate was run over. Apparently they chase car tires. Who knew that would be a death wish. However Larry came to our house to live. He is a Chinese crested goose and now gets to live with two female geese.

When Larry arrived and rightly so, he was scared and stressed. I carried him to our chicken coop where he immediately honked loudly for all to hear. I sat him down and he instantly went into a full blown straight up position with his chest fully puffed out to let the ladies know he has muscles, good looks and good breeding qualities. Poor Larry was rejected and got the cold shoulder. Typical stuck ups! Apparently he showed too much interest and was too eager to make friends. His ego was majorly deflated so he ran and hid between my legs like a frightened little puppy. He lost his confident composure and followed me all over the yard making sure to always be touching me. He is adorable. I am hoping that by the weeks end he will calm down and be less stressed. His constant honking broke my heart but unlike a puppy, he is too big to bring inside and sleep on my bed so I had to lock him up last night. The poor little buddy. Luckily he is the only male and the girls have another thing coming if they actually think they have options. To their sheer disappointment, he is the only male within our boundaries.

Knowing that gives me great confidence that in no time at all, Larry the cable guy will be the ladies’ man and the chaos here at our home will settle down. In the meantime his arrival has fueled my interest and just like my childhood, I am researching Chinese crested geese. I won’t stop until I feel I have soaked up all that I can. Sigh, I am a nerd!