{"componentChunkName":"component---src-templates-story-js","path":"/story/undefined-r/","result":{"pageContext":{"data":{"id":"-1960f709-b718-531c-be11-ea803d356b48","authorFirstName":"Rose","storyTitle":"Undefined","photo":{"asset":{"url":"https://cdn.sanity.io/images/nr9digz2/production/dee539fdd66ecd6186ed06ad77b380b91c556f7d-1500x1000.jpg"}},"audio":{"asset":{"url":"https://cdn.sanity.io/files/nr9digz2/production/a1393d74eec1a22063cee55140995b0866518b48.mp3"}},"secondLanguageAudio":{"language":"English","audio":null},"school":{"name":"Appomattox Regional Governor's School for the Arts and Technology","city":"Petersburg","location":"Virginia"},"tags":["Different Abilities","Education","Loneliness, Doubt or Loss"],"_rawText":[{"_key":"ce020f962667","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"c075510445e10","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"As my days of high school drag to a close, I know I’ll look back and remember the feeling of inadequacy that has always followed me like my shadow. It’s always been there—no matter the time of day or the stage of my life, it just gets a little heavier to bear each year."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"c2e62ad17e0d","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"8f076f645a320","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"Lately I’ve been seeing thousands of teenagers getting ready for college. Making their applications as attractive as possible, desperate to be picked from the crop of millions sharing the same goal. My turn is on its way. It won’t be my first time applying for an education to determine my future, nor my second or third, but it will be the first time I’m so acutely aware of how unimpressive I am."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"88545117b7bf","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"0f29e9f779230","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"An unremarkable day in fourth grade, autumn was gone, and I had fallen into a familiar routine. Maybe spring was already creeping in; the memories are fuzzy and indistinct to me seven years down the line. I vaguely recall being brought into the cafeteria along with a few other students. The room is devoid of anyone but us children and two, maybe three proctors. It looked so unlike the same cafeteria I knew during lunchtime, bursting at the seams with eager children ready to go outside. The walls echoed; I sat nervous, waiting for further instruction. After an extended wait, droning instructions, and growing anxiety, the test began. Each student spaced far apart across long lunch tables and given a booklet and Chromebook, all unsure what to expect."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"fbe2ae8f9b24","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"7c4ef9c2864f0","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"The test was straightforward. Assessing math ability, puzzle solving, creativity—what I imagine might appear on an IQ test. I don’t recall thinking I did particularly well or poorly, but I do remember the simple pleasure that came with getting to doodle and complete basic questions of logic as methods of assessment."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"c0d60827b36a","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"8453c292084d0","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"After a long time spent completing the test and later waiting on the others, we left the cafeteria and returned to finish the day, not to hear about the results until months later. It all left me a bit confused, like some sort of abrupt fever dream filled with the scent of disinfectant and the scrape of pencils on paper."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"c05b9b69e0b6","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"93086f4e5f690","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"The next year I entered into a gifted program, known as “CBG.” I learned so much about myself the four years I spent in the program, things I’ll never forget. I also learned how it felt to question if I ever really deserved such an opportunity. I learned what it’s like to know I’ll never be the smartest in a room, learned to ask the question of if I was ever in the running. I learned how easy it is to compare myself to others, then learned doing so was what everybody told everyone else not to do and still did anyway."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"721dd678511b","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"bd74ced5d1bd0","_type":"span","marks":["strong"],"text":"Perhaps giftedness has never been the defining trait I thought it was. A two-hour-long test taken at ten years old doesn’t determine who I am and who I have the potential to become. Coming into high school, being surrounded by people praised for their own giftedness, I see that “giftedness” is just a metric. It’s a term and classification that cannot capture the variety of people under its umbrella, including me. I realize that I’m so much more than the superficial label that’s been put on me."}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"},{"_key":"41ad57d95c67","_type":"block","children":[{"_key":"a563c04597090","_type":"span","marks":[],"text":"\n"}],"markDefs":[],"style":"normal"}]}}},"staticQueryHashes":["3309388390","890781507"]}