Like Brother, Like Pony

Perhaps I've mentioned that The Pony needs an IQ test. It's not so much that he needs the test. We all know that he has an IQ. What The Pony needs is an IQ test SCORE, to send in with his application for that Mizzou smart kids summer symposium thingy that will be held for three weeks in June. He's been chomping at the bit to get over this hurdle. Besides, he just really likes tests.

The last time his IQ test was scheduled, the person who dropped it off at Newmentia forgot to include the scoring sheets. So it was postponed until the next day. Except that the next day, there was snow, and we missed school. The day after that was practice day for the Smartypants team. And the day after that was a Smartypants competition. And the day after that was a basketball make-up date marathon of four games. So...the IQ test was tentatively scheduled for today. We assumed it would be after school, as planned in the past.

In the halls of Newmentia this morning, I encountered the would-be test-giver. "Hey, I'm looking for The Pony. Our certified test-giver called, and says she can give The Pony his IQ test this morning at Basementia. I can run him over there." I told him of The Pony's schedule, and while I was in class introducing my students to Sciencebuddies, The Pony was whisked away to have his brain picked.

I saw the young fellow kicking up his heels in the lower hall after strapping on the feedbag. "How was your test?"

"Easy. At least it seemed that way to me."

After school, The Pony revealed that he had been called out of first hour to the office. "Did you think you were in trouble?"

"Not at all. In fact, I told the people sitting by me, 'It's probably about my IQ test.' I found out that's what it was, and went back to get my stuff. Then I got driven over to Basementia in a sportscar. Boy, was it low to the ground!"

It seems that a parent meeting suddenly came up, so The Pony was pawned off on another, who most likely volunteered in order to grab a quick smoke on the way back to Newmentia from Basementia. I suppose those with a habit abhor the smoke-free workplace, and long for the olden days of smoke-filled rooms where teachers lounged between classes.

I know nothing of IQ tests, but have heard names bandied about. I asked The Pony if he knew what kind of test he had, perhaps a Wechsler, or a Stanford-Binet. He said he was pretty sure it was a Wechsler. The more he described it, the more in the dark I was. All I remember of testing from the one-room schoolhouse was when the schoolmarm gave us an "achievement test" every spring, and it was the Stanford-Binet, and it was a written entity. The Pony said his whole thing was responding to what the Tester showed him, or asked him. Huh.

"I think I did pretty well. There were only three of the vocabulary that I didn't know. And one of them, garrulous, was in Short Stories class, that Mark Twain jumping frog story, when I got back from testing! So NOW I know what it means. And another one sounded like abhor, so I said to strongly dislike, but it wasn't abhor, but I don't know what it was. Then there were sequences like where the letters go in alphabetical order, but the numbers are reversed. That was okay until they got to around eight in a sequence. And there were block designs, which I knew all of them except the last one. I can't wait to see how I did."

"Well, I guess they'll tell you your score. Or they might tell me. Or they might just send it in with your application. I'll check on it tomorrow."

Yeah. Sometimes The Pony is totally like his brother. The one who bounced out of bed one morning in his early elementary years, and declared, "I can't believe the moment I've been waiting for my whole life is finally here! I get to take the MAP Test!"