“Works for me,” she said with a grin.
“We’ll go over it together, but I want you to do this worksheet on your own. If you’re getting graded, then it should be your own work. But don’t worry, you’re gonna get every single one right.” I pulled her notebook toward me and started to write down my own problems for her to work on, so we could practice and get her ready before she moved on to the worksheet.
She watched me, her eyebrows raised. “You can just make up questions on the spot?”
“They’re based on the content.” I continued to write them out.
“I know, but still. You can just do that?”
I steadied my pencil and looked at her. “If you know how to solve a problem, why wouldn’t you know how to create a problem?”
She shrugged. “I’ve just never met anyone as smart as you. Even the smartest kids in my classes aren’t like you.”
“Well, they’re a lot younger than me.”
“You know what I mean. Like, gifted. Like, genius. I’ve never met a genius before.”
“That’s not how I label myself.”
“Then how do you label yourself?”
I set down the pencil altogether as I tried to think of an answer. “I’m not sure, actually.”
“You build spaceships. Doesn’t that make you a rocket scientist?”
“I suppose.”
“Then you’re a genius.”
“I don’t really like labels like that. It indicates that I have a higher than average intelligence, and that implies others have lower than average intelligence. If there’s a high number, there’s a low number, and I just don’t believe people are born smarter than others. I believe we’re all the same, but we need to tap into our intellect differently. I believe those kids who don’t do well in school and drop out aren’t less intelligent. They just weren’t given what they needed. I, on the other hand, was given more than enough to achieve anything I possibly wanted. That’s the difference between me and an average person. I was given the tools to be successful, had teachers that taught differently. And that’s the problem with our society, not all students are getting the same quality education. For instance, your teacher relies solely on the textbook rather than his own skill level. That’s not mastery. That’s borderline memorization.”
Lizzie stared at me in silence, her features impossible to decipher because she didn’t have an eyebrow cocked or a smile on her lips. As if she was watching TV, she just stared. “So…you’re saying I could be a rocket scientist if I wanted to?”
“Absolutely.”
“Me?” She pointed into her chest, her tone incredulous. “Someone who’s barely passing geometry?”
With a firm tone, I answered. “Yes. Lizzie, you can be anything you want to be. Whether that’s a heart surgeon or an Olympic swimmer. The world is full of endless possibilities, and not a single one is out of your reach. However, my advice to you is to do something you innately love, something you genuinely care about, that gets you excited to go to work every day. Don’t do something for the money. Don’t do it for the fame. That’s where people get sidetracked.”
“So, you don’t do it for the money?” She looked around at my home. “You live in a penthouse—money must be part of it.”
I shook my head. “Truly, it’s not. It’s a byproduct of how hard I work. That’s all. People care too much about being rich in money rather than rich in character. Don’t be one of those people.” I turned back to the paper and continued to write down the problems. “So, the question is, what do you want to be, Lizzie?” The math wouldn’t hold her back because she was grasping it nicely with better instruction. And she had other nice qualities, like kindness and intuitiveness. I saw the same intelligence that her mother exhibited, the type of skills I would never have.
She shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it before.”
“Well, you should start thinking now.”The three of us sat together at the dining table near the window, the same place I used to sit as a kid. It didn’t look quite the same because they’d remodeled the place at some point, so all the furniture and rugs had been changed. But the energy was still the same—still full of infectious happiness.
Dad sat across from me, one arm on the table while the other maneuvered his fork over his plate and picked at the pieces before placing them into his mouth. “How’s it going with Lizzie?”
I was now trying to come over once a week for dinner. It was a few hours of my time, and in the grand scheme of things, not much of a sacrifice. Now that I wasn’t going out with the boys anymore and hitting the clubs and bars, I was free on the weekend nights and not too hungover on Sunday to see my parents. “Good…I think. Emerson said she likes me.”