Monday, February 23, 2026

OM (or OtM)

My childhood PTSD has led to me being largely unable to remember my very brief time involved in Olympics of the Mind.  It would have been 1982 or 1983, when I was attending Cedar Springs Elementary.  Why was I selected?  Dunno.  I had taken an IQ test, and then a scant month later the school funneled my neurodivergent ass into this program.  It made me miserable because none of my friends were there.

(Mm.  This isn't entirely true.  Jay Phillips was in that class.  Jay was a bright kid, and had extraordinary skill as an artist.  He could draw comics better than anybody my age.  I liked Jay-- but he was the only kid I knew, and he was more plugged into what was happening in that group than I would ever be; he Fit In and the other kids were really into him, whereas I was a weird-shaped peg.)

Anyway I phased myself out.  The organizers didn't ask too hard what was up.  They just shrugged and gave me a certificate.  Which still has Olympics of the Mind printed on it, so my participation must have been before OM had its legal squabble with the Olympics Committee...

I've always looked at this blip in my school history and asked myself what it was about.  But maybe it was simply that the school didn't know what to do with me.  I was pretty boggled and could barely function, some days.  And then I managed to get into some fights, and the school pushed my parents to move me to another district.  Anyhoo.  All that's really sure is I have a piece of paper, and memories of cinderblock rooms without windows, with no rows of desks, and not fitting in even amongst outsiders.

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