Every child probably dreams of magic, or superpowers, or something more at some point. They want to be the prince, or princess, or wizard, or superhero, they want to be the special one. It comes from our innate selfishness, at least that’s my theory. We want, need, to be better. When we’re a child, we’re not tied down to realistic expectations of how much better we can be. Not just 25 cents more an hour better, no, we wanna be glorified, lauded, proven better than everyone else around. Sure, of course, we imagine that we’d use our power, fame, and privilege for good. Children do believe in being fair after all, and justice, and probably even some version of the meritocratic dream.
Imagine that you are me, that self-same child, wishing for magic, and finding that they CAN do some things that no one else can. That you see things slightly differently than everyone else. That you’re “Precocious,” and sometimes “Difficult.” Maybe you even try to explain to your friends, only to lose those same friends who think you are too weird when your pretend play has you actually “winning.” It’s one thing to yell that you have a shield when your friend is throwing imaginary fireballs, it’s another thing to see the imaginary energy exploding against something protecting you. It’s enough to send most kids screaming and running in fact. It’s a good thing I was playing the bad guy that day, not the heroic wizard throwing fireballs into my lair. Who knows what would have happened.
It took a year of school for them to even notice me. Here I was, a 5 year-old witch, hurling raw amateur magic around. Not to any real harm, but some decent strangeness, slowly pushing most kids away, except for a strange few. I was fairly social back then, and some of the kids in my kindergarten class were as obsessed with the trees I’d “adopted” as they were. They liked the idea that these trees never had litter, would offer us extra shade when it was hot, and that they seemed to scare the bullies that otherwise preyed on small kids like us during recess. To this day, I’m not sure what I did to those trees, but they were removed after the visit from the Council’s representative.
He was a strange person to send in the first place, he seemed to sneer at the mass of screaming and playing children. I paused mid-sentence in discussing the merits between unicorns and dragons with Susie and Brandon. The “Inspector” meanwhile seemed to ignore as much as he could. I dropped my “Bouquet” of dandelions and milk thistle, and hurried up to him as he half-yelled at my teacher. I tugged on his jacket, head tilted, full of wonder, knowing without hesitation that he was like me. He was magic too…
The interview itself was probably illegal, dragging me into a purloined classroom without parent, teacher, or any kind of supervision. Not that laws seem to apply to the Council anyway, no laws but their own at least. I was put through a series of tests, blinding fast, leaving me finally trying to solve formulas in magical equations. Things I’d never seen before, things I was unprepared for. I muddled my way to a few right answers, then he checked his watch, sighed and told me to stop.
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“Forget it, stop, you’re not worth my time. You’re not strong enough, and you’re not creative enough if you can’t figure these out faster. Normally we’d take another hour, but I’m calling it here, you’ll stay here with the rest of them.”
I attempted to move my hands, eyes wide with confusion and hurt. You see, I had pretty much always been the smartest kid I’d met, and now for an adult to tell me I wasn’t good enough. You can imagine that I was not sure what to do with that information. He however seemed to take my wide tearful eyes and open outstretched palms as a personal attack, grabbing the back of my chair before I’d managed to even get a proper word out. “W-wait!” But there was no patience, no waiting with him. He threw open the door with a BANG, and pushed me out into the hall, still ensconced in the chair.
I twisted around, trying to find his face, to mount up some defense. I didn’t even really know what I had been tested for at the time. I didn’t know what was expected of me. I didn’t know what to do with all those new symbols. It didn’t feel fair...But he was already at the end of the hall, stalking his way out of my life.
Like I said, I was nearly six when I was abandoned by my kind. Five and three quarters, flunking out of a test I’d never been prepared for, and told that I wasn't worth the time of my proctor. It didn’t seem fair, it didn’t feel good, but I was a child...So of course I believed him.
It’s amazing what a few words to a child can do. It reshaped my whole perspective, shaped my heart and motivation, and all because of the careless words of a strange man I’d never met before.
Now I had reason to doubt and distrust all those teachers, my parents, and all the others who exclaimed how smart I was. To scoff and sneer at those who told me I was creative, imaginative, or destined for artistic greatness. I started to look down on my classmates and anyone else I bested in academics, athletics, or any other pursuit I tried. If I wasn’t good enough, then how terrible must they have been? I will beg an excuse for myself here...I was a child, with a narrow perspective, and a feeling of outsideness already. I eventually got around to correcting my attitude after three or four years anyway...Well...For the most part.
Yeah, metacognition, philosophy, and an interest in the psychology of everyone around me at nine years old. By then I’d realized my error, hubris even, and had been careful in my study of greek mythology. Now terrified of Nemesis, and the possibility of someone seeking my downfall via my own arrogance, I had a new plan.
I started to cut back on how well I did on things. My art was a little worse, I stopped trying with my music, my grades started to even out to a low A. (I wasn’t allowed to get less than an A in my family, so that was sacrifice enough, okay?) I suddenly couldn’t beat certain people at games, video, board, card, and otherwise. I made a ton of friends over the next few years, right into highschool. People liked feeling superior to me, and I was confident in my ability to still be the smartest person in the room. I figured though, that as long as I wasn’t boastful in my abilities, as long as I passed on the glory to someone else; that Nemesis wouldn’t come for me...An arrogance all it’s own I guess, Sorry Nem.