My mum always praised me for being so smart. She would proudly boast about my achievements and how she had to fight for me to start school a year early. The nuns at the Catholic school initially refused to accept me because of my age but my mum being mum, somehow made a deal with them. She argued that if I failed the test then she would accept that I couldn’t start school early however if I passed then they have no grounds to refuse me. Mum won – hooray, my school life started early. yay.
I actually remember a bit of this, I remember sitting in a room with a teacher and giving my answers when she held out random flash cards. There was also a written component to the test (in Phillipines, children are taught how to read and write at an early age). I passed the test and my mother was happy.
After we migrated to Australia, mum said that the only thing that stopped me from skipping a grade were my English skills, but apart from that I excelled in school.
Mum enrolled me in a high school that was out of our zone, the only way in was to sit and pass a test. Again, I passed. I started Year 8, did well, had my A’s and B+s….
..then life happened… and I became dumb… this isn’t a sad story, so stay with me 🙂
Seriously, I honestly became dumb.
Spelling skills? – see ya!
Maths? – who?
Writing skills? – this blog is exhibit A.
After being groomed to be the perfect student, it all went out the window. All it took were a few hard life lessons and events for me to start showing the addictive personality I would master as an adult and the real knack to make bad decisions.
BUT after all the shitty grades and interesting choices, I still somehow thought I was quite intelligent and that I knew a lot about being an adult. I mean, after all….my mum said I was still smart….why would she lie?? 🙂
I thought I was so smart….until one day, my boyfriend at the time said to me,
“….I’ve never gone out with anyone that wasn’t that smart before….”
– uuumm….excuse me?
“No, I mean, not a scholar….someone with no career goals…”
– yup, keep digging that hole buddy.
That was probably the time I realised that I was not as smart as I thought I was….shit….what was I good at? Weeeellll I was good at drinking at the time, I could eat a whole roast chicken and rice???? Definitely a far cry from the awards and achievements my mum used to boast about. I couldn’t imagine her writing home about my PB when it came to eating.
“Dear Mother, Everything is well here in Australia. Just today my daughter ate a whole roast chicken with a kilo of rice. She is sure to change the world…..”
Fast forward to today.
Glad to say I am now all grown up. * Phew*
At the moment, Matt and I have temporarily swapped roles. I am at work and he looks after Juliet when she is not at day care. Today I sent a message to Matt for an update about Juliet. His response was ;
“She is running amok”,
amok?….amok? Isn’t it “a muck”?? I looked at this message and thought it was a typo but Matt being Matt, he rarely has any typos and when he does, he usually sends a message straight away to correct himself….amok???
So I consulted the Oracle (Google),
DAMN, he was right! *shake fist in the air*
Perhaps if I had listened to my English teacher (or not switch to ESL) I would have learned that amok was in fact a word and it wasn’t “a muck”.
Hhhmm…crap, Matt will just add that to list of dumb things I say, just like Making a mountain out of a MOULD hill.
You see, Matt is naturally book smart. He barely needs to spend hours and days of studying like an average person to excel in written exams…and he knows it. He went to Uni and did a double degree with ease. I sometimes listen to him in awe when he speaks because how intelligent he sounds. When he interacts in intelligent conversations, I usually sit there smiling, nodding and saying the occasional hhhmmm to pretend like I am involved in the conversation or say something completely random. Although sometimes I think it is obvious but people are just too nice to let me know that they caught me sleeping with my eyes open.
BUT underneath all that intelligence, he has his dumb side too. He once asked me how to change a light bulb…ok there is more to that story but it sounds so much better when I leave it at that and it brings it home quicker when I am trying to explain that handyman skills is not Matt’s forte.
Many years later, I now accept the fact that even though I did not become the scholar that my mum thought I would become. She wanted me to be some professional of some sort but let’s face it, looking back, that would have taken some miracle.
Where am I going with all of this? I don’t know… I thought this would have some kind of epic life lesson ending but actually I just wanted to write something non food related today.
I suppose in summary, you can get the high marks and a professional career…but you still need to know how to change a light bulb.