Every other week, Imperial Me and I would spend several hours locked in a tiny, windowless room with between four and seven fellow nerds. We would have deep discussions on stuff no one cared about, thereby re-confirming our inherent smartyness. To this day, I am convinced this “classroom” was really a CIA laboratory, used to groom future covert agents.
Other signs of our enhanced status included nerd-only field trips, nerd-only class projects, and free time to fill out our abundant college applications. (True story: I applied to Harvard because I really had nothing else going on that day. No, I didn’t get in.)
But the greatest honor of all was “Nerd P.E.” Because our schedules were blocked together, all the gifted kids took gym during second period. So, theoretically, this should have saved me from all the humiliations of gym class with non-nerds. You know, being the last one picked for teams, being the last one to finish the mile run, being the only one to wipe out on the gymnastics equipment…oh, wait. Even in Nerd P.E., I was still the last one picked for teams, the last one to finish every race (a mile in 20 minutes! Go me!), and the girl who did an unintentional cannonball off the gymnastics horse.
And, of course, what all this really meant...Nerd Driver's Ed. Nerd Health. And, worst of all, Nerd Sex Ed. ("Boys and girls, here's the vital information the vast majority of you will not need until college, if ever.")
So what have we learned? I’m the Nerdiest Nerd Who Ever Nerded. I’m a Nerd Queen!