“You have too many awards.”
I sat in the back of the room across from my 6th-grade language teacher who was slightly taller than me. Thin. White. And watched her mouth as the words dragged out of it. The same mouth out of which I eagerly watched and devoured every syllable that year. I wanted to know more. I wanted to be more. I was too much.
“There’s a new three award maximum, and you have four awards. See here,” she tilted the monitor towards me so I could see the grades. There I was with a 99 across from my name.
“You’re the highest average in my class,” she explained to me. “Since you have four awards, we have to give your award to the next highest.” She pointed to the names under me. “Both Suzie and Marcus have 98, and they don’t have as many awards, so they’ll both get the Language Arts award. Do you understand?”
I didn’t, but I nodded my head. I knew what happened to kids who didn’t agree with their teacher. But I also knew this was unfair. How could someone else take something that I worked for? That I earned?
I kept my head down for the rest of class. I was too smart. I lost my award because my curiosity exceeded the acceptable amount. I wanted to know too much. Be too much. I was being punished for it.
