“My two cents worth” notwithstanding, malleable minded kids--too dumb to know any better-- would radiate a million dollar smile when stuck on stupid elders grudgingly stroked them. Today, however, it’s exactly the opposite. Today’s society is so anxious to give confused, depressed, suicidal kids a dose of self esteem until they deceivingly praise mediocrity. But thank God I was always smart enough to know how smart I was, even if I wasn’t the smartest one in my own house. Mainly because I use to test my TAKS I.Q. against those glorified, White Whiz Kids on 1948 Houston’s TV (FYI: The Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills is a primary and secondary education standardized test used in Texas to assess student attainment of math, english, science, reading, and social science skills required under Texas education standards.
It is developed and graded by a test-making company named Pearson. Though created before the No Child Left Behind Act was passed, it complies with the law. It replaced the previous test called the TAAS in 1999.-Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.) On the other hand, don’t queue up The Twilight Zone theme yet, because I understand why my generation’s elders unwittingly programmed us to never think too highly of ourselves, because "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." Shazam! That was sage advice in the old days-- when a Black man’s pride, self assurance and confidence in his ability-- translated to arrogance. Especially in the minds of the sorriest White folks whose self esteem was based on the misconception that their race alone inherently made them better than the best and brightest descendant of slaves in the land of the free.
If you have cause to pause and ponder where I’m going with this, I’ll just cut to the chase and say that Vincent Young reminds me of me. Hey, let me explain before relegating me to The Outer Limits of fantasy. For real, watching Vince’s expression as he goes about the business of wowing naysayers that apparently don’t believe their own eyes, I recalled my school days when teachers started banning me when the other kids were taking test. A defining moment came at TSU when my sociology professor, Dr. Richards, fashioned a two-hour final exam that precluded the author of the book from making an “A.” After 30-minutes, I dropped the “aced” test on his desk and headed for the Groovy Grill. Square business, Dr. Richards realized sociology was my thing and never tested me again. Hell, I set his curve too high.
What I’m saying here is, after watching Vincent perform miracles (from the pee wee to collegiate football’s highest level, without even turning on all of his jets), what’s left to test? True connoisseurs of athletic prowess would exempt him from the silly, high school level skills tests, e.g., the all revealing Wonderlic. Since the tests were child’s play for Vincent, trival coaches that fail to draft him should be looking for a lode of Kryptonite. Meanwhile, if I was a team owner, he could sit in the cat-bird seat with me and help select the mere mortals he considered worthy team mates. Incidentally, Dr. Rich-ards never required me to take another exam. Instead, I only distributed the exams and helped him correct other student’s test. I wonder if anybody knows where I’m coming from?