PRODOGY

THE PRODIGY

Bob Fogle

           We were both five years old and sitting on lawn chairs one warm summer day in Terry’s back yard talking. Truth is I’m talking, Terry, however, diddled around on his notebook. I told him once, “Ter, if I ever find your notebook and you’re not with it I’ll have your mom report you missing.” Well, while I was laughing at what I considered a clever joke, Terry continued to write.  

           I had better explain about Terry and me or this will be one strange read. First, my name is Clinton (Clint) Mossberg and Terry’s last name is, O’Donald. There’s not much to explain about me. The above scene took place thirty-one-years ago when we were both five,  but that’s where the similarity ends.

𝑨=𝝅𝒓^𝟐     

           Terry was beginning testing at the request of his teachers who believed him to be what they term a ‘gifted’ child. Some of what his mom told my mom about this possibility was she recalled a morning when at nine months old he said his first word. He pointed

towards the back wall of the house and said, “Door.” That’s right, no mommy, no daddy, “Door.” They took him for an interview around age two hoping an intelligence evaluation might show any special talent developing. He had asked questions they found far too

Pg 2 / Fogle

sophisticated for his age. They freaked out one evening when he answered a ‘Jeopardy’ question, not even watching. He was playing with a puzzle when he gave the answer starting with, “What is _______Alex?”

           The report told them he showed all the indicators of the possibility to be a child prodigy, however; they offered a caveat. Testing children under age four is a challenge, they get hungry, tired, and prefer to play with the examiner's test materials in their own way. Rather than do what the examiner asks, sometimes they refuse to respond at all. Unless there is a very good reason to test a preschool gifted child, it is better to wait until just before first grade starts. Then the test results are more reliable and the child is old enough to cooperate in the testing situation.

           To pre-empt your obvious question how another child, an average child, me, knows and recalls all of this. Simple, I called my mom; she was always taking notes; I knew she’d have it in writing. 

           A side note: The equation up there is the ‘area of a circle’ which I’m sure you know already.

           A second side note: The equation is a hint for the discerning, who will recognize in which area Terry will first excel. 

           We were neighbors in a small/average size town and other than kids I met in Sunday School, Terry was my only friend. When I’d say to him, “Ter, you know you’re my

Pg 3 / Fogle

best friend,” he’d come back with a five-minute explanation of our proximity to others our age, etc. I reckon to anyone who joined us during our playtime they’d go away confused.

           Terry, governed by his high intellect for a child, was maturing into his personality. He was already acting and talking like a grownup at six-years old, and I could barely keep up. We’d been close as brothers all our lives. I’ll admit more times than not I didn’t understand when he started on a subject what he meant. He’d give me an impatient look, then act angry while shaking his head mumbling, “Stupid, stupid boy.” I was being a burden to him, my intellect and his were already many years separated. Then one morning that summer he knocked on our door long before we met in his yard. I had just come downstairs to the living room; mom was in the kitchen and answered the knock on the back door.

           Before I continue, assuming everyone knows the equation above, I’ll mention it for my sake, it’s the:  

 This time we’ll start with the equation still within the simple range. It is: The expansion of the sun.

           That knock at the back door became a defining moment in our friendship. First grade would start in a month and he wanted to tell us he would spend most of that time with different professionals being tested to discover where he stands to start school. 

Pg 4 / Fogle

           All right now! If you recall, Terry and I were growing apart. When I thought it was play time he had his head buried in a book or figuring in his notebook.

           I had trouble understanding just what he had meant, so mom explained he might not start in first grade. “You and I have seen that notebook he carries, said mom. It’s full of equations, and big words and their definitions.”

           “Yea! He had a thick book about the history of the world; he even read some to me. Man, I didn’t understand what he was reading.”

           He mumbled, “We’re on separate planets,“and kept reading. His mom and I talk most every day, I’ll see her later today, I’m sure she’ll keep me up to date.”

           One day mom noticed her car in their drive and went over with some cookies fresh out of the oven to find out how Terry’s day went. I looked out back and sure enough, Ter was in the yard with a stack of books sitting on the ground beside him. When I walked up he didn’t look up at me or acknowledge me when I said, “Hi Ter.”             

            “Look at me buddy, what happened, did they take your voice out?” This struck him funny, and he had to look up. “What happened today, are you smart, maybe too smart to talk to me, a lowly human?”

           This broke him up and he closed the book saying, “I don’t want to go through a day like this ever again, but I’ve got to go back tomorrow.”

Pg 5 / Fogle

           “Tell me, I’m dying to know what you went through, did they stick you with needles or hypnotize you?”

           “They gave me test after test for the first four hours by academics and a psychologist from a variety of disciplines. Then a Psychiatrist, an old guy with a beard, talked to me about socializing.”

           “What’s that mean?”

           “Socializing is hanging out with people, mixing at a party, stuff like that. He said that the preliminary test results show I have a high IQ. Then he told me that sometimes people with a very high IQ are solitary and withdrawn. They don’t think on the same level as the group and are reluctant to say anything that would sound weird.”

           “Tell me about this IQ thing, how does it work?”

           “I can’t give you the dynamics of the testing, he said my IQ is ‘141’ which is high. I’ll learn more tomorrow.”

           Saying I’d leave him to his books I wondered off to my room. I’d just learned two things: Ter differed from yesterday, and he used words I couldn’t understand.

           Oh yea, the quotation above; it’s the: Pythagorean Theorem. I’ll pick something next time a little more challenging.

           Yep! Literature! From that day Terry and me, both age six, drifted apart. He didn’t have the time to play, and I was no challenge intellectually. He never ignored me, he’d make sure we spoke daily at first and have short conversations that left me scratching my head.

Pg 6 / Fogle

          His mom asked to meet with mom and me after a couple weeks of Ter being tested. She seemed overwhelmed with their thoroughness and had provided an outline of where he stood with abilities in certain categories. She left a copy with us and exhausted, went home.

 They titled The list as: Level Four -  Profoundly Gifted

The points to indicate this level of intelligence:

 * IQ scores of 141+ represent the 99th percentile

* Books were a favorite interest by three to four months

* Knew the entire alphabet by fifteen to twenty-two months

*At four years could perform many academic and intellectual functions of an eight-year-old

*Reading for pleasure and information by age four

*Can play adult level board games by four

*Satisfactory completion of academic work on 6th grade level.

           The time came when school started and I was present in the first grade but Terry was not; he was starting as the youngest sixth grader ever at this elementary school. From that day we seldom saw each other, it seemed to me as if he’d moved away.

           Terry graduated high school at ten, having also completed some college credits. After graduation, his first choice of a vocation was writing, math having been his childhood choice became a close second. His mom presented me with a signed copy of, “Thirsty Nights/Short Days,” his first novel published when he was nine years old. Writing was his

Pg 7 / Fogle

sought after activity while he completed graduate work, but seemed to have no interest in pursuing a doctorate.

            The obituary read: Terrance Leroy O’Donald, age 37, a true prodigy and author of four best-selling fiction novels, died in his home April 11, 2019.

           We met through the years, each time struggling to find common ground. Ter was always patient and friendly, but whatever the subject it was like teacher and student, a not bright student. The fact was, he became very humble as the years passed avoiding much

social contact. A better friend I’d never had found; he grew to be a man I respected, yet he had a flaw no one seemed able to help him overcome. A genius pursuing interest after interest, his thoughts never at rest, unable to cope with a mind that became more and more crowded.