When I was six years old, my teachers told me I was gifted.

"She's reading at a fourth-grade level," she told my parents, holding the Level 1 Early Reading book under her hand. "It's way beyond the typical first grader."

At seven, I sat in a quiet classroom by myself and took the first standardized test I had ever taken. I had no idea that this exam would change the course of my life. A proctor handed me a Number 2 pencil, (the first of thousandsI'd hold), and sat in a chair by the door until I finished. I took the bubbling of the answers very seriously. She told me it was very important that they were near perfect. That exam was actually not an exam at all, but an aptitude test.

By third grade, I had been introduced to AIG: Academically/Intellectually Gifted- a program where we were taken out of class once a week to do different activities.They were activities we never did in class. We had projects and assignments that challenged my other gifted classmates and me in ways that normal classroom assignments never could. I never understood why we got to go and other students didn't. One day, my AIG teacher explained to me: "It's not that they don't get it, it's just that you get it quicker than they do."

In fourth grade, I began my lifelong struggle with math, and while I loved English and writing, I didn't understand equations. Numbers didn't make sense to me like letters did. At the first sign of not understanding something, I believed I was stupid. The kids who weren't in AIG could explain things to me, and I didn't understand why they knew something I didn't. When I went to tutoring for math, some of the kids who were in AIG with me looked at me like I was dumb.

Flash-forward to middle school, where we were placed with the groups of kids we'd be with for the rest of our education. Half of my class I'd never truly get to know because they were in standard classes while I was in the academically gifted ones. I wondered if a kid in a standard math class was really great at it but never got the chance to prove himself.

High school is where everything became apparent. We had to choose: honors or standard. I heard so many kids say: "I couldn't do an honors class."
"I can't take honors, I'm too dumb."
Standard classes were often referred to by honors kids as 'stupid classes.' Many teachers dreaded their standard classes because they believe they have no drive to work- and no desire to succeed. "My standard class is next period," they'd tell us. "It's my worst period of the day. It's so easy to work with you all."

My entire life, I have been set on a track. Even though I'd get Ds in my honors math classes, I'd still be put in them because I was considered 'gifted.' I could read and write at a college level, but that doesn't mean I could put together a car like a boy in mechanics could. I couldn't design a video game if I tried. I took three years of art in middle school, and never improved one bit. I have met so many intelligent people who aren't thought of as such because in the third grade they weren't labeled as 'gifted.' They grew up in the mindset that they would never be as good as the smarter children- that they wouldn't succeed like we would. Those are the same high school students who had no determination to graduate. They spent their whole lives below honors kids.

What nobody tells you is once you leave high school- everyone is average. You're average. The boy in mechanics is average. There are people better than you and there are people worse off than you. There always will be.

So, yes. I will graduate with honors. But I'll also graduate in honor of all the standard students who believed they wouldn't amount up to anything, and did.