What's your superpower?
Grace sat back on her heels and scrutinized the frame of the desk in front of her. It looked as they always looked, too flimsy and thin to be a reliable piece of furniture, but Grace knew it had potential. She stood up, stretching into a star. Blood returned to her lower legs with a faint tingle that quickly grew insistent. She gritted her teeth and leaned against the nearby dresser, hoping to wait out the pins-and-needles without giving over to the urge to flop onto the floor and kick wildly. The dresser surface was a study in preteen girl, barrettes and flavored lip glosses peeking out from beneath a tangle of costume jewelry. Grace smiled at the sight of a triangle of notebook paper, uncurling from the carefully creased geometric pattern it had been folded in, pressed into a palm during class changes. Her eyes trailed upwards: a strip of photos from a photobooth at a wedding featuring two girls in Groucho glasses and floppy hats, a crayon picture of a vomiting dinosaur, a silver medal on a green ribbon. “Second Place Gifted & Talented Fair,” the circle gleamed. Grace smiled,wondering if they still did toothpick bridges.
Grace had been in Gifted & Talented in 4th grade. She had loved being excused from last period twice a month to attend the meetings in Mr. Peretti's classroom. Almost everyone Class, 4B would eye Grace with jealousy when Ms. Buckner reminded her it was G&T day. "Grace, I know you didn't forget," she would say, and she was right, even though Grace feigned surprise every time, looking around the room through half-lidded eyes as though she had just been woken from a dream (acting skills she had learned from covertly watching her parents' favorite Indian soap operas from the top of the stairs). Grace loved carefully gathering her things, with slow, exaggerated gestures of organization. This is how a gifted & talented student closes her notebook, caps her pen, arranges her pencil case. She imagined her classmates all watching as she glided from the room, admiring the poise and decorum that only a truly exceptional young lady could possess.
In actuality, Grace was underwhelmed by the club, or “enrichment activity,” as Mr. Peretti would repeatedly remind them to call it throughout the year. The fanfare of her exit created a delay, because she was in no hurry to get to Mr. Peretti’s classroom. If she prolonged her departure enough, she could get away with only 15 minutes spent gluing together Popsicle sticks or wrapping yarn around small objects, in the company of the most socially awkward students at school. On Grace’s first day of G&T, Mr. Peretti welcomed them all to his classroom in the corner of the fifth grade hallway, which smelled and would always smell of ____. He presented their first "challenge," bridge-building, with a flourish, noisily whipping back a bed sheet that had covered a quartet of desks to reveal a bulk supply of toothpicks & an arsenal of hot glue guns. The bed sheet had a light print of tiny green flowers on it, which made Grace think of the faded freckles around Ms. Buckner's hairline. Grace was confused. Ms. Buckner had told her she was recommended for G&T because of her science grades, and so she had imagined telescopes and bubbling beakers and lab coats would await her in Mr. Peretti’s room. Instead, were it not for the obvious absence of colorful pipe cleaners, the spread Mr. Peretti stood proudly beside would not have been out of place at one of Grace’s former Girl Scouts group meetings.
"Is this like arts & crafts?" she had asked, over the ooo's and excited mutterings of the others. Someone in the cluster of students behind her snickered, and Grace’s shoulders jumped toward her ears. Peretti turned red and scowled, his mouth a thin line of disapproval as he glowered at Grace. She decided against explaining her lack of malicious intent. Lately, her mother had been encouraging her to keep some of her thoughts inside her head.
Though their relationship never recovered from that incident, Perretti could not ignore Grace’s talent for building. Her toothpick bridge spanned the distance between two desks, casting a lacy shadow on the vomit-pink tile of the classroom floor. Despite the unfortunate coincidence of being assigned a malfunctioning glue gun that yielded only tepid glue, Grace’s bridge did no more than buckle slightly as Peretti dropped the bowling ball into its center, even when his suddenly slippery hands released the ball too early, too high. The delicate spirals of slender wood did not splinter or snap under pressure, but expanded to cradle the ball and buoy it back up, an effortless curtsey. More ooo’s from the G&T kids, even the jealous ones. Peretti purpled. As the year went on, Grace’s continued success seemed to only stoke his ire - every completed project at her station revealed deeper shades of red in his enraged flush, and encouraged increasingly complicated project ideas...
Grace had been in Gifted & Talented in 4th grade. She had loved being excused from last period twice a month to attend the meetings in Mr. Peretti's classroom. Almost everyone Class, 4B would eye Grace with jealousy when Ms. Buckner reminded her it was G&T day. "Grace, I know you didn't forget," she would say, and she was right, even though Grace feigned surprise every time, looking around the room through half-lidded eyes as though she had just been woken from a dream (acting skills she had learned from covertly watching her parents' favorite Indian soap operas from the top of the stairs). Grace loved carefully gathering her things, with slow, exaggerated gestures of organization. This is how a gifted & talented student closes her notebook, caps her pen, arranges her pencil case. She imagined her classmates all watching as she glided from the room, admiring the poise and decorum that only a truly exceptional young lady could possess.
In actuality, Grace was underwhelmed by the club, or “enrichment activity,” as Mr. Peretti would repeatedly remind them to call it throughout the year. The fanfare of her exit created a delay, because she was in no hurry to get to Mr. Peretti’s classroom. If she prolonged her departure enough, she could get away with only 15 minutes spent gluing together Popsicle sticks or wrapping yarn around small objects, in the company of the most socially awkward students at school. On Grace’s first day of G&T, Mr. Peretti welcomed them all to his classroom in the corner of the fifth grade hallway, which smelled and would always smell of ____. He presented their first "challenge," bridge-building, with a flourish, noisily whipping back a bed sheet that had covered a quartet of desks to reveal a bulk supply of toothpicks & an arsenal of hot glue guns. The bed sheet had a light print of tiny green flowers on it, which made Grace think of the faded freckles around Ms. Buckner's hairline. Grace was confused. Ms. Buckner had told her she was recommended for G&T because of her science grades, and so she had imagined telescopes and bubbling beakers and lab coats would await her in Mr. Peretti’s room. Instead, were it not for the obvious absence of colorful pipe cleaners, the spread Mr. Peretti stood proudly beside would not have been out of place at one of Grace’s former Girl Scouts group meetings.
"Is this like arts & crafts?" she had asked, over the ooo's and excited mutterings of the others. Someone in the cluster of students behind her snickered, and Grace’s shoulders jumped toward her ears. Peretti turned red and scowled, his mouth a thin line of disapproval as he glowered at Grace. She decided against explaining her lack of malicious intent. Lately, her mother had been encouraging her to keep some of her thoughts inside her head.
Though their relationship never recovered from that incident, Perretti could not ignore Grace’s talent for building. Her toothpick bridge spanned the distance between two desks, casting a lacy shadow on the vomit-pink tile of the classroom floor. Despite the unfortunate coincidence of being assigned a malfunctioning glue gun that yielded only tepid glue, Grace’s bridge did no more than buckle slightly as Peretti dropped the bowling ball into its center, even when his suddenly slippery hands released the ball too early, too high. The delicate spirals of slender wood did not splinter or snap under pressure, but expanded to cradle the ball and buoy it back up, an effortless curtsey. More ooo’s from the G&T kids, even the jealous ones. Peretti purpled. As the year went on, Grace’s continued success seemed to only stoke his ire - every completed project at her station revealed deeper shades of red in his enraged flush, and encouraged increasingly complicated project ideas...