The Time Where I Felt Most Intelligent

Hello once again, with, yeah, another memoir. And you know what? I gave these really bad titles, like, really bad titles, but whatever, whenever I get to doing more of these, I’ll promise myself to actually come up with cool titles. That’ll be cool. Anyways, here you go, “The Time Where I Felt Most Intelligent”.



I peered onto my screen with great sincerity, awaiting my compatriots for their response. When I saw that there was none, I turned back towards the sheet of paper in front of me  and studied it carefully. Then, without warning,  as quickly as I had lost attention, I saw words appear on my screen. They were red-colored words, asking for a question to be answered. I smiled, and brought my hand to my keyboard, and gave my answer. I waited, and a response came, and I answered back. This exchange lasted until I had fully answered their question, and ended with  words of thanks. I smiled at that too, and went back to the sheet of paper in front of me. Perhaps I was enamored with my own self indulgence in doing this, or perhaps I just simply wanted to help the good of my fellow peers, but either way, I felt like I was someone of worth, someone above all. I felt, smart.

During the time when I still took courses that involved the sciences, I was quite adamant at trying my hardest at doing my best. I had no particular interest in pursuing a career in any area pertaining to subjects like chemistry, but I  wanted to try my best anyway. Chemistry was surprisingly fun, though, and although not a saint of science, I did enjoy it as a hobby. Thus, when time came for dreadful examination, I put it in my power to try my best at studying, no matter how futile that may become.

I had a few friends who wanted help studying for chemistry, and we all converged among a single chat room. However, I found it quite difficult to actually get any work done since answering many of their questions required visuals, and a simple chat room would not suffice for any visual representation. Thus, in a feat of brilliance, I sought out to create a singular shared document where each person would have a color tag and could leave questions in the style of an open forum. Thus, anyone, since this document was shared, could answer and also ask questions. It was something I never thought would make much fire, but when it happened, I realized how big of a spark it actually was.

My hours of studying slowly turned into hours of grandeur as I sat in my computer chair sifting on the highs of teaching. I never once fancied myself as an instructor, but as I read the questions pouring onto my screen and as I answered each one with the ease of a few buttons, I felt like I was as big as a mountain. Nothing could stop me as the sounds of everything in my room slowly faded, and even the music in my ears to help me study slowly drowned in my own self indulgence. I had become a teacher only for a short period of time, but that period of time had made me feel like I was the top of the class.

Soon enough, my time was over, and the exam was closing in. I shut down my shared document, and with a smile on my face, I slept that night going into that exam feeling like nothing could faze me. I had become the lifeline of many, teaching so fervently to my friends who needed it, and I couldn’t help but feel bloated on those feelings.  No test mark or class mark I had ever received prior to this had even come close to how I felt when I began my one shot teaching career, and those feelings are the only feelings that could ever reflect my apparent knowledge of chemistry.

I wouldn’t say that I was the smartest, and I would never tell anyone that I was smart. I didn’t believe in intelligence, nor did I believe that any one person was smarter than another. It was all relative. We each had knowledge relative to what we have been taught and how we’ve been taught. Some of us have more relative information than others, and that was fine. I realized after this ordeal, that the amount of relative information I had was not enough to indicate any superior intellect, rather, I just perceived myself as such because I knew how to use it to my advantage. All humans are smart, and all humans can reach the same potential given enough time. I had reached mine within a single week, and that feeling will always linger on me as a feeling of pride and stick to me like a savory desert. I will never forget those feelings and I will never come to hate those feelings either. They will become great precedent.

Many had thanked me, but perhaps the greatest reward for me was simply the feeling of great elation in the simple task of teaching. I wouldn’t say I was the best teacher in the world, nor would I even call myself a decent teacher. I was simply a teacher, but through that whole situation, the person who I taught the most was indeed myself. I learned about arrogance, ignorance, and  prideful lust. They were all adjectives that stuck to me during the situation. I had a bit of all on the tip of my tongue, and it didn’t disgust me as much as it should have. In fact, it didn’t disgust me at all. It tasted like sweet honey. It became precedent in ways I never thought could happen, and I quickly realized how pretentious that precedent was, and I hated it. I hated everything that embodied that precedent yet I myself had embodied it in a short while. That sweet honey had turned into poison, yet now, I can identify what truly is sweet, and what truly isn’t. Knowing that has me feeling eons more smarter than simply knowing chemistry.







Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s