that I’m just BETTER than everyone else, and I can do ANYTHING. Cuz I’m a genius.

I’m kidding. Genius? Haaaa. There really aren’t many geniuses in the world. I’m not kidding. I’m sure we all have that one kid in our math class who just nails every problem and understands every concept and aces every test…and hey, maybe some of them really are geniuses. I don’t know. But I doubt it–if they were geniuses, they would not be in the same class you’re in. Unless you’re a genius.

Take my friend George, for example. He’s cool. He’s ridiculously smart. I mean, I thought I was smart–I’m a freshman in Honors Trigonometry, which is 2 levels above grade level–but this guy switches into my trig class and starts totally humiliating the rest of us. Seriously. He’s wiping the blackboard with our faces, the way the teacher worships him. It’s the same way in our chemistry class (again, I’m ahead: chemistry is normally only offered to 10th grade students): he’s got the teacher wrapped around his finger. Do I admire him? Sure. Am I jealous of him? Oh yes.

So a few months ago, Georgeh took this competitive math assessment available only to teacher-recommended students called the AMC 10. Our math teacher signed him up for it (no surprise), and George went in to the test quite confidently (again, no surprise). For months before the test, George made a big deal of studying for it by showing off his EXTREME MATH SKILLS to the rest of the class. To be honest, I don’t think the rest of the class could have given less of a crap about George’s EXTREME MATH SKILLS, but he proceeded in making a show of his giant math textbooks nonetheless.

About a month ago in our math class, George sat down in the seat in front of me (his usual seat), clearly bothered by something but waiting for me to ask him about it. Being the good friend I am, I asked, “What’s up?” George replied, “So, I got the score back for the AMC 10.”

With as little interest in this as I had for his EXTREME MATH SKILLS, I reluctantly said, “Oh, really? Cool. What’d you get?”

To which George responded, “A ninety-eight.” This did not surprise me. I was actually kind of pissed that he had the nerve to sit down in front of me and brag.

Irritably, I said, “Cool. That’s awesome.” Then, sarcastically: “I KNEW you were a genius.”

“I got a ninety-eight out of a hundred and fifty,” George corrected me. Then he smiled. I smiled back. In my eyes, George became…like, HUMAN. He’s not the creepy computer I had previously thought of him as. Now he’s a friend, our friendship based on the fact that neither of us are, in fact, geniuses.

(Actually, my IQ is CLOSE to genius level. But it isn’t; I blame ADHD (always always always blame ADHD).)

Honestly guys, there’s always gonna be someone out there better than you are at something. And then there’s going to be someone better than that person. So don’t get so caught up in this little “I HAVE TO BE BETTER THAN MY FRIENDS IN MATH” thing, because even if you ARE better than your friends are in math…you’re nothing. I’m kidding. (just kidding, I’m not kidding. no offense.)

Cheeers! (:
ABC

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