IQ tests

Keep on Pushing Me Baby

Did you know that you can give a soon to be 3-year-old an IQ test?

You can.

And when that almost 3-year-old would prefer to hit a balloon around a room rather than answer inane questions, that nearly 3-year-old earns the distinction of “borderline.”

Yes, my son scored in the 2 percentile of “total bullshit bullshittery” category on his IQ test. He was average in other made-up areas and low in I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Butter Hoopery. I have a glisteny report that details it all and it sort of tastes like margarine.

Three years ago today, my son was born. That day was going to be a gorge-athon of hamburgers and french fries when my water unexpectantly broke and I underwent an emergency c-section because my kid was breech. He was a month early. He came out in the shape of a potato head with the same spindly arms.

He had trouble lifting his head. He didn’t walk until 18 months, but fuck if he didn’t know all the letters of the alphabet by 2.

We got on it early. By six months, he was in physical therapy. Six months ago, he started occupational therapy to help his fine motor skills. His therapists say the same thing: “He’s smart as get out; he’s just low muscle tone.”

Because of his birthday, he’s being moved from the county to the local school district, and this is why he’s suddenly “bordeline” and in the words of Madonna, it’s like I’m gonna lose my mind.

Even the IQ administrator stated the test doesn’t adequately gauge intelligence. So why are we doing this exactly?

Tomorrow he has his first committee on preschool special education meeting. The day I learned about this meeting, my “borderline” son read the word “toys” in a new book.

Something seems a bit off. In the same way, giving every child the same state assessment to judge a teacher’s ability seems like an inadequate form of measurement.

Tomorrow will be a success if I do not throw a chair through a window.