August 20, 1990

It was the first time I had ever sat in a classroom that didn't double as a space for Sunday School. It felt cold and monstrously enormous; however, my new guidance counselor, Ms. Charmintine, thoughtfully provided me with a set of Legos that she had picked up at a garage sale. Some of the pieces were rough around the edges and I soon found out quite a few were missing, so instead of building an incomplete design, I decided to let my imagination run slightly wild, pushing the tattered instructions to the side.

"That's interesting, Nathaniel," Ms. Charmintine said as she adjusted her bottle cap glasses. "May I ask what you're making?"

Still focused on nothing but the blocks in my hands, I replied tersely, "It's a surprise."

"Oh, I see. Well, while you put together your surprise, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

My focus didn't waver. "Okay."

"Do you know why you're here today?"

"Is it because I'm Asian?"

Ms. Charmintine couldn't manage to stifle her chortle. Little did I know I would be making that joke for the next thirty-plus years.

"That's really funny, Nathaniel. Has anyone ever told you that you're funny?"

"My mommy says I'm a ham, starved for attention."

Ms. Charmintine flashed a smile. "And what do you think about that?"

"I'd rather be bacon instead."

Another chortle. "I like the way you think,  Nathaniel. But, I do need you to know that you're here today for something called an SOI Test. It tells us where you're at, learning-wise, and it gives us an idea of what class you should be in, simply so we can be confident that your Kindergarten year will be a great one. Does that sound good to you?"

"Sure." I needed a yellow 4x2. Where was it?

Ms. Charmintine then wrote down the numbers 1 through 10 on a fresh sheet of loose-leaf notebook paper and pushed it toward me. "Do you know what these are, Nathaniel?"

I took a quick glance before returning to the more pressing issue in front of me. "Yeah, they're numbers."

"Very good, Nathaniel. But, do you notice anything special about them?"

I took another quick glance just before fitting two blocks together that would act as support in the corner of my design. "You missed a number. 7 is in the middle of 6 and 8."

Ms. Charmintine leaned back in her chair. "You're absolutely right. Nathaniel. Do you know how rare it is for someone your age to see that?"

"No, but I don't want to be rare. It's gross."

"How so?"

"I like medium-well. Rare is too bloody."

Ms. Charmintine let out a quick sigh and scratched her head. "Wow, Nathaniel. Your brain is quite exceptional." She then took a sheet of paper from a Manila envelope and slid it across the table with a black magic marker. The paper was covered in equal squares, all spaced apart evenly. "Okay, Nathaniel. I'm going to need your attention for just few minutes and then, I promise you can go back to your Legos."

I set down the blocks and looked up at her curiously. "Okay."

"Alright. I'm going to give you five minutes to make whatever you want with this paper. Now, there are no rules here. Do whatever you can think of with these squares, using this marker. You can even draw stick figures inside them. That would be perfectly fine."

"No, it wouldn't," I quickly replied.

"Really? Why not?"

"Stick figures are for children. They don't look real."

Another quick sigh as she adjusted her glasses. "You know what? They don't. Forget I said anything. Do what feels right, Nathaniel. Time starts... now."

For the first minute, I didn't touch the marker. I simply rotated the paper so I could see it from different angles while Ms. Charmintine feverishly scribbled down notes. At minute two, I took the marker and started drawing what I saw in my head. Some of the squares were left untouched; others were completely filled in; the rest were connected in seemingly random geometric shapes.

The timer beeped an annoyingly high pitch. A Natural, above the staff.

"Okay, Nathaniel. Can you tell me what you made?"

"It's my favorite place in Houston--The Theatre District," I answered as I slid the paper back to her.

Ms. Charmintine squinted her hazel eyes and once she realized what I had done, they instantly widened. "Oh, my God. This is a map." She looked at me with her mouth agape. "Nathaniel, this is a map." I don't know why she said it twice. I knew what it was. I mean, I just drew it.

"It's not a map," I replied. "It's what it looks like to a birdie." Then, I reached across the table and took the page back, carefully folding it into thirds. "Now, it's a map."

I didn't realize it then, but I'm fairly certain that Ms. Charmintine was the first woman whose mind I blew.

She stood up slowly. "Nathaniel, please excuse me for just a moment. I'll be right back."

She immediately went to an office adjacent to the classroom where my parents listened to the unfolding events through the intercom. As she entered the office, my father unknowingly leaned against a  control panel, making the intercom two-way.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bradford, I can safely say that I have never met a child like your son. He is overwhelmingly intelligent. Now, kids with this degree of intellect are often socially inept, but Nathaniel knows exactly how to convey a thought, and what's more, he does this with a uniquely effortless sense of humor. This points to the fact that he's immeasurably creative. Have you thought about enrolling him in a private school? He is probably going to require a specialized curriculum and vast academic resources that we simply don't have."

"We have," my father said. "But, it comes with a price tag for an exorbitant amount of money and we're afraid it would serve as an origin point for him becoming an arrogant elitist. He has friends from our neighborhood coming to this school and we really don't want to jeopardize those invaluable relationships by separating him from everything he knows."

"That's a valid point, Mr. Bradford. But, before we move forward with the current line of testing, I'm going to need your permission to administer an IQ Test."

"Isn't that what this is?" my mother asked.

"No, Mrs. Bradford. The SOI Test was developed for students in the state of Texas. An IQ Test is structured differently and provides us with a different metric. Now, it can be an exhausting experience for the child. This is why we only administer it to exceptional children and I'm telling you right now, Nathaniel is the very definition of 'exceptional'."

My parents were silent for a moment, taking in all of the affirmation they expected.

"You say 'exhausting'," my mother said. "That concerns me."

"Yes, of course. I simply need to let you know that the questions are rigorous and require a great deal of critical thinking. The majority of students don't reach the end."

"I don't know," my mother said with worry lining her voice. "What do you think, honey?"

"I think I know my son," my father said firmly. "He's the perfect storm of relentless energy and unparalleled absorption. You've only known him briefly, Ms. Charmintine. I know what he's capable of. Administer the test."

Now, I should preface this with the fact that like the majority of students, I didn't reach the end. But, unlike the majority of students, it's because I was never asked the first question. Here's what happened:

Because I was merely five-years-old, Ms. Charmintine had a tailored version of the widely-known test, specifically designed for children. The entire process is recorded and meticulously picked apart, but before it actually begins, the child is asked a series of questions, establishing a kind of baseline.

"Okay, Nathaniel," Ms. Charmintine said as she straightened the stack of papers in her hands by tapping the bottom edge on the table. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions before we begin. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, okay."

"First, what's your full name?"

"Which one?"

"Excuse me?"

"My American name is Nathaniel Roger Bradford, but my Korean name is Park Hong Shik."

Ms. Charmintine jotted down a thought on her notepad. "You know what? That's actually a great answer, Nathaniel." She cleared her throat and proceeded to the next question. "Okay. Can you count backwards from twenty for me?"

"I can," I said with a wide smile, but that soon faded when I was struck with a strange feeling of pity. "Can you not do it? I can show you how if you want."

"That's okay, Nathaniel," she replied with a smile. "I can accept your answer." Then, she flipped the page over. "Now, can you tell me why you think you're being given this test?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, tell me why."

I leaned forward and whispered, "Because you want to know if I'm going to hurt you."

Ms. Charmintine dropped her pen as the blood drained from her face. Sure, it's terrifying for a little Asian kid to offer up that kind of response, but it's actually kind of true. If my intelligence was deemed "too high", it could be argued that I could potentially become a threat to national security. The pieces were all there. I was just putting them together.

"Nathaniel, I think we're done here." She clicked the recorder and left the room, looking back at me a few times. Before she passed through the door, she focused on what I had built with the Legos. "Nathaniel, what did you build there?"

"Oh, it's a bridge."

"Wow. It's... incredible."

"I was just doing what I was told to do."

"Okay," she replied matter-of-factly, but then it hit her. "Wait. Told by who?"

"I can't say. I promised I wouldn't."

"Nathaniel, you sit tight for just a moment. I'll... yeah... I'll be right back." She quickly shut the door, which created a draft that blew the pages of the test to the floor. To this day, I'm not sure whether I was impressive or horrifying. You know, it was probably both. I have that effect on people. Especially women.