A reflection
about intelligence.
All of my school
life I would hear that I was extremely intelligent, above average. Many thought
that I would go on to win a national scholarship (the top students sitting the
Cambridge exit exams for secondary schools called A levels are awarded
government-funded grants to study abroad, in addition to all the local prestige
showered on the winners). I grew to understand that this “intelligence” was
usually equated to “grades” or “marks”. Acing school tests meant you were a whiz
kid, in other words, the focus was on cognitive or linguistic or mathematical
intelligence.
Giving it more thought though, most assessment instruments like
tests end up showing how well a student executes the tasks therein, instead of
giving an insight as to what each student is capable of. Success in these tests
was based on memorization and compliance; creativity and innovativeness held
little sway.
My being “labeled” as intelligent drove
teachers and parents to pressure me to study more and more, to keep the top
marks so as to land the national scholarship. I remember my father and some of
my teachers strongly advising me to drop extra-curricular activities like
football and basketball, two sports that I excelled at and played on the school
teams.
If I had stuck to at least one of those sports, I might have had a
chance to excel. Even colleagues saw me as “brainy kid” who was an all-rounder
with the national scholarship in the bag. For the record, the much sought after
grant didn’t come, but my grades were the school’s highest in the ten to
fifteen years that preceded my candidacy.
Luckily, I “stuck”
to these extracurricular activities with lesser intensity than needed to become
a top player. All that time, I was a boy scout, which helped me work on spatial,
kinesthetic and musical intelligence. The experiences gave me ample chances to
learn and collaborate with others. Experiences for which I am eternally grateful.

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