Chapter 12
Sterling walks on the sidewalk along the park. If he were enabled, he’d be guided by a Google-map on his hand held. Instead, he’s looking at street signs and following the ascending numbers on buildings, while trying his utmost not to run into oncoming pedestrians. Students, housewives, businessmen and businesswomen, rappers, nannies perambulating, you name it…everyone on the sidewalk (except Sterling) seems preoccupied with checking their mail or texting or phoning or browsing, in any case not paying the least attention to other people, who are likewise preoccupied. Sterling has to avoid many of these wayfarers who veer, seemingly intentionally, directly at him as they commune with their devices. He feels like he’s a magnet to their iron filings. He is amazed that the digitally obsessed don’t cause pedestrian pileups; they seem to avoid collisions as if their autopilots have been programmed with a sonar guidance system. One heavyset youngster is not so adept. He sports softball sized earphones and is busy rearranging his music list as he drifts like an iceberg in the North Atlantic. Instinctively all the passing ships give him wide berth as he floats along. His lethargic pace is deterred by nothing, not even the mailbox that forces him to detour. Even when he plows into a utility pole, he only briefly glances around to reorient himself and then continues with traffic flow.
Sterling crosses a block, then over to South Wilmington and another block down until he finds the appropriate office building. The law firm is on an upper floor. He’s forty minutes early for the appointment. If he had had a car at his disposal, he wouldn’t have to leave home for another ten minutes. There had been no further discussion about a car as a birthday present. He figures it would be wise not to broach the subject as long as his parents remain in such a foul mood. He could ask Brandon, who is shooting for BFF status, or could ask the drama queen formerly known as Billy, who had disappeared from radar for unknown reasons. He sits down to wait for his appointment. He is the only non-criminally-minded male in the office without a coat and tie, a suit indeed. He is saving his Sunday clothes for grand juries, prosecutors and judges. The lawyer is on Sterling’s payroll and thus deserves no better than his best jeans. Regarding that matter, he goes up to the receptionist with his rediscovered checkbook. She calls for the bookkeeper who goes back to her computer to check the balance of Sterling’s account. Sterling figures he’ll have to pay several thousand dollars, including the retainer. Penalty avoidance and/or principles do not come cheap. The bookkeeper returns to inform him that there is no outstanding balance. In other words, the bill has been paid. He asks by whom and she notes that the check is being processed and for him to ask again in a day or so. He then asks how much the check was for. A $15,000 retainer, she says. Mr. James must bill by the minute, Sterling figures. And who paid it? Other than William Duke Sr. Sterling knows no one who has that much money squirreled away for a rainy day. As he ponders the next question to ask, he is directed into the conference room.
Sterling had expected to meet with Mr. James alone in his office. The conference room is a bit of overkill for their meeting. This is apparently where the law firm holds its partner meetings. There are at least twenty seats around the conference table and sundry chairs scattered along the walls. The book shelves are lined with legal volumes, statutes and case law. This veritable law library is old technology, according to Sterling. Most of the resources are available on line. These are books that should go on eBay to be sold by the yard. A young man in a bow-tie enters and walks over to Sterling.
“Hello, Sterling. I’m Robert Young, an associate with the firm, who will be handling your case. My expertise is juvenile law. First, I need to establish the time lines,” he says.
The young man is all businesslike and, with the clock running, no small talk. Sterling is a bit disappointed he has been palmed off to someone who seems to be in his mid-twenties. He is further disappointed that he is being treated as a juvenile, or at least the lawyer he has been given is juvenile-oriented. The young mister is not someone he feels comfortable addressing as Mister Young. The associate produces a yellow legal pad full of notes and for the next thirty minutes, he drills Sterling on every detail of the Smiley Boy video, which he says he has not viewed in its unexpurgated form. He asks for and receives the name of all the people involved, including that of the Atlanta man including his telephone number. It is made perfectly clear that this is confidential information and even the fact that Sterling has this information is deemed confidential. Just when Sterling thinks the interview is over, another associate joins them. She is an efficiently dressed African-American, who wears a Bluetooth earpiece. She introduces herself as Heather Wiley and she specializes in grand juries. In more general terms she is classified as a legal strategist. She apologizes for not being there from the beginning, but she had another client who she was defending against rape charges. “All teenagers,” she explains. She dabs in youth and sex law, she says, which is another reason she was selected to be on Sterling’s legal team. Sterling is impressed: he has gone from lawyer to legal team.
Ms. Wiley lays out a printout from the Smiley Boy Legal Defense Fund website that Jeremiah initiated. Sterling did not know it was up and running. The instructions were to begin if and when an indictment were issued. In fact, the jury had handed down the indictment according to the morning’s paper; Sterling realizes that Jeremiah had followed orders to the letter.
“When I was surfing for a copy of the Smiley Boy video, I found the expurgated version on your website. This is your website, correct?” she asks.
“I didn’t design it. But it’s mine, I guess.”
“It’s registered off shore, but that’s not important for now. You’ve uploaded your grand jury testimony. When did they provide you with the transcript?” she asks.
“No, it’s from memory. It’s correct. I have a verbatim memory.”
“I was wondering. There’s no way the official transcript can be ready so quickly. Getting a copy from the prosecutor can be like pulling hen’s teeth,” she adds. “On the blog of your website you offer a rather unflattering description of the jury members. You make them seem a bit ignorant or even senile,” she continues.
Sterling wonders just how defensive he should be. He says carefully: “I think it is an accurate picture. They did not seem to know much about the internet or technology or what’s out there. The old people certainly didn’t know how to define pornography”
“Just because they are old?” Ms. Wiley asks.
“I may have been a bit prejudiced. Should I remove it?” he asks.
She makes a call on her handheld and talks on the Bluetooth. “We’re ready for you,” she says.
Sterling is expecting Mr. James but yet another associate arrives. He introduces himself as Clyde Smith and his specialty is media relations. It’s unclear to Sterling whether he is a lawyer. In any case Mr. Smith doesn’t fight cases in court; his court is the one of public opinion.
“Sterling,” he says, “Would it be possible for you to, in the future, run your copy by me before you put it on-line. I may be able to offer you some advice, editing advice, perception advice, that sort of thing. To be a sounding board. It’s obvious that we’re going to be fighting this case in the media since it concerns the media. The other thing is that I would like you not to speak to the press unless I can be by your side. Don’t take this the wrong way. This has nothing to do with your age. I say this to all our clients.”
“Do you want me to remove the website?” Sterling asks.
“Absolutely not. How else are we going to get paid,” he says. Until the others smile, Sterling hasn’t understood that this is a joke. He hands Sterling a card and writes down his private cell number with the notation 24/7. He continues:
“I don’t even mind the blog as long as there’s no libel. Discussion on this can only help our cause. He turns to the other associates, who nod in agreement. “It would help, however, if you could i
nclude some serious musings about the First Amendment. I am sure the associates can provide you links. You can quote, just double-check all your attributions, references and citations. Be careful not to violate copyright. We are told you are very good at writing academic papers.”
Sterling wonders about his source of information. His paper writing ability is not exactly a secret but it is not something he advertises either. Another lawyer arrives, an older man, who could be a partner. In fact, Professor Drake is the firm’s Constitution Law expert, a former law professor, who was driven from academia by the subprime financial meltdown (specifically everything he had was in Lehman). He’s now in private practice attempting to rebuild his nest egg.
“Am I early or late?” he asks.
“Early,” they say in unison. He leaves and another associate arrives.
“Late,” they say to the new arrival. This is the firm’s chief negotiator, Barry Pitt. A former District Attorney, himself, he is the firm’s head liaison with the various DA offices in The Triangle. His line of questioning is different from the others. He is interested in a the history of Sterling’s involvement with the DAs office, Mr. Miles and Ms. Abernathy over the subpoena, immunity and the grand jury, even his pick-up and deposit during the birthday party. “Every meeting, verbatim,” he says. That, of course, is an opening Sterling always likes, as he can comply with it literally. The recounting takes another 30 minutes. The Con Law professor returns. The younger lawyers immediately defer to him, their former professor. Professor Drake explains that he won’t be involved in this matter unless and until the appeal process begins and then only if constitutional issues are raised. In the event that happens he will work closely with the Institute of Constitutional Law, which will be expected to file an amicus curiae brief.
“Professor O’Connor? She was the first lawyer I talked with,” Sterling offers.
“A good choice. I recommended Hunter to head the institute. It would be good to have her in your corner.” He then leaves.
As the various lawyers confer with one another, Sterling studies his six-person legal team. This entire afternoon will probably be billed at several thousand dollars. He is wondering if the law firm isn’t making a mountain out of a molehill. Constitutional issues are all good and well, but shouldn’t they be addressing the immediate issue: his misdemeanor and indictment. What happens after an indictment? There has to be a prosecution, trial, verdict, sentence. Or negotiation. He doesn’t want to think about all this. Fortunately, Stacy James arrives with two more associates who transport a white board. The board contains some schematics drawn by a professional hand, almost as if they were expertly printed. The right graphic is a triangle that represents the North Carolina judicial process. At the bottom of the triangle is noted: the grand jury, further up is the Superior Court, above which is the Court of Appeals and above which is the NC Supreme Court. The left graphic is more complicated, as befits the federal government:
Before Sterling has an opportunity to study and memorize the chart, the whiteboard is flipped over to its blank side. Stacy James takes a marker and prepares to scribble on the board. He addresses the room:
“Gentlemen and lady, please, probable penalties for felony indecent exposure, based on recent outcomes. Mr. Young is the first to jump in, asking “Adult or juvenile?”
“Adult,” replies James. Barry Pitt offers the following, which James writes on the whiteboard.
“Fine, jail time or probation, community service, restitution to those offended, psych work-up and/or counseling, court-ordered classes, SOR…that’s it.”
“SOR?” Sterling asks.
“Sex offender registration, usually ten years, domicile prohibition school proximity, no contact youth, visits police, sometimes social workers supervision, many rules, some interpretation,” Mr. Pitt explains in the verbal equivalent of a PowerPoint, bullets omitting prepositions.
Sterling is mulling over the ramifications of being on the SOR.
“And who are we up against?” Stacy James continues, asking the question for the benefit of the others.
“Miles and Abernathy, the fourteenth. I’ve set up a meeting for first thing Monday. They’re willing to talk but I sense there’s some heat from the bench. My source says he’s hell-bent on a quick trial before he gets rotated out. There’s a history,” Pitt shrugs glancing over to Sterling with a blank expression, bordering on the unsympathetic .
“Bikegate? That’s like five years ago. I was twelve,” Sterling explains rather defensively. No one reacts.
“Before the meeting, Sterling, we need to put this list in order. Start with what you least want and work your way up,” James says, as he prepares to write down the list Sterling will give him.
“Can I think about this and tell you before we have the meeting,” he asks, expecting an automatic “yes.”
“No, do it now, please. You will not be at the meeting,” he explains.
“But I’m the client,” Sterling argues.
“And sometimes the client is his or her worse enemy,” James counters. He looks at this watch, adding, “Now, please.”
“From the least acceptable, sex offender registry, counseling, jail, restitution, community service, probation, fine, classes.” James studies the list he’s written.
“You’d rather go to jail than have counseling and the SOR, is that correct?” he asks.
“It depends on how long. I’m assuming 30 days. If it’s 90 days, I’d rather have counseling,” Sterling explains.
“We’ll see what we can do,” he says, nodding to his colleagues that the meeting is over. Sterling is not sure he has been understood.
“I’m not saying I want to go to jail. But you asked me what I wanted least and that’s definitely SOR. Jail and counseling seem about the same thing to me,” he explains.
“I understand, son.”
Sterling leaves the building feeling deeply unsatisfied. It’s like he’s eaten a five-course dinner but is still starving. It’s like how you feel after a boxing match before the decision is announced but you feel you’ve lost. Even after the announcement of victory, you feel like you’ve still lost. At the meeting, Sterling reflects, no one bothered to mention misdemeanor exposure. It’s like the lawyers were assuming the worse, accepting felony as a given. They are supposed to have his best interests at stake, so why doesn’t he feel like they’re in his corner? And this talk about constitutional issues, it’s as if they want him to lose so they can appeal the case. On the bright side, at least no one mentioned the video or passed judgment on it. He guesses that for people who deal with rapists and murderers on a daily basis, an exhibitionist is a breath of fresh air.
It is after six o’clock. He needs to call home to tell them he might be late. He can make the last express, at 6:25 P.M. which will put him back in Durham at 7:05 P.M., just after his new curfew. The sidewalks are more crowded, with the after-work throng. He looks around for a pay phone to call home. He finds one, but it is vandalized with no receiver. Another is a block away in the wrong direction. He reaches it, fortunately unvandalized. But he has only two quarters in his pocket, which are not enough to make a call. He notes he will have to acquire a change purse so he can be fully stocked with coins in the future. If he had a credit card, he still would not have used it as the charge for a single, brief local call in North Carolina from a pay phone with swiped card can easily run over $20.00. “A legal theft,” according to bloggers. If he calls collect, the charge will be even more. Under the old rules it was permissible to get home by 7:15 P.M. without a courtesy call. Sterling is unsure if the new rules include a fifteen minute grace period, but he suspects 7:15 P.M. is still acceptable, given circumstantial evidence. It should produce only a slight addition to his current sentence. Then he remembers that in his haste and his preoccupation with his own difficulties, he has forgotten to mention Daryl to the lawyers. Sterling turns around and jogs back to the building.
The lobby is crowded and he has to wait an eternity for the elevator to arrive and empty out. Fortunately, Robert Young emerges from one. Sterling ask him for his business card telling him he has a friend who needs a lawyer. Young fumbles in his wallet, to an impatient Sterling, and gives him a card and asks what’s involved. “Murder,” says Sterling as he heads out the door, jogging back to the bus stop. He arrives a few seconds after 6:25 P.M., just in the nick of time to see the last express of the day pull out without him. He takes a few steps to begin a jog after it but then realizes that the drivers are prohibited from opening the door except at a bus stop. Not a silly rule, Sterling concedes, but a rule that has just affected him in a silly way, sillily, if that were a word. He now sees three choices: to hitchhike and face his mother’s wrath; or hitch and not tell her, which is what the old Sterling would do; or to wait for the next local (he checks his schedule, one departs at 6:40 P.M., arriving Durham 7:55 P.M.). He’ll no doubt receive a reprimand for showing lack of consideration by not phoning about his expected tardiness, as well as breaking curfew. This is something he will have to work out. Maybe they will give him a phone for emergency use only. Who’s he kidding? He would not give himself a phone with such loose conditions. He’ll offer a compromise: a phone that only calls home or only connects to his mother’s cell; he’s sure Jeremiah can figure out how to restrict one in such a way. The new Sterling thinks about this day, as he waits for the bus. Today rates as the third worse day of his life, after the day Susan died and the day of her funeral. And he still has an hour and a quarter joyless ride home, with no phone, with no laptop, with no mp3, with no life.
When Sterling eventually arrives home (having spent the past hours writing in his new notebook), he’s no longer feeling sorry for himself; once experienced self-pity has been dispensed with. His father is working with some boxers in the gym; upstairs the women are anxious, sitting around the kitchen table. His arrival brings relief; they both hug him, before they vent their anger at his “inconsideration” and “obstinacy” regarding the curfew. He tries to explain about the busses and the phones but is shut out. They’d rather tell him about the worse-case scenarios they have been conjuring up for the past hour: hitchhiking accident, run-away from home, getting drunk and high with friends or strangers, getting cougared by a society dame. They have an active imagination when it comes to the variety of trouble that Sterling can get himself mixed up with. He repeatedly says he’s sorry and that he’ll take better account of time in the future. He quickly eats and escapes to his bedroom. He needs to prepare for tomorrow. He stares at a blank pad.
It is that time of year again, the moment when Sterling must make his annual appearance at school. During the school year he usually strolls the corridors once or even twice a week, but this assembly is one visit he considers mandatory. The principal and faculty would prefer he stay away; it is his fellow students, the younger ones in particular, who require his attendance. He had received numerous texts, mostly from freshers, imploring Sterling to come to their aid and that was only those messages he had been able to view before he lost phone privileges. Why is he so popular? Since 2003, when he was eleven, Sterling has led a vocal opposition to the standardized intelligence tests that Durham Prep administers to its students. For many years Sterling had been conflicted over tests. It all ended back in 1993.
Actually Sterling’s ideas about tests are an extension of his general educational philosophy. In Sterling’s humble opinion, education has two players: the student who wants to learn and everyone else, most of whom seem hell-bent against the student learning. Almost anything he gets worked up about at the school fits into the US versus THEM construct. Actually, Sterling has nothing against tests per se. There’s nothing wrong with a school’s testing its students to ensure that they know president’s names and state capitols, quadratic equations or the Gettysburg Address. That is part of cultural indoctrination, a fine role for education. When schools try to administer general intelligence tests, however, Sterling gets annoyed. What is IQ’s purpose: to praise the elites and stigmatize the rest? – to provide tools for teachers to pigeon-hole students? – to give crutches to counselors who can cavalierly brand this student an underachiever or that student a hard worker “more than fulfilling his potential?” IQ tests, Sterling argues, symbolize exactly what’s wrong with American education: stratification by intelligence. This line of reasoning may seem strange to the casual observer. Didn’t the boy’s success on an IQ test generate an invitation to join Mensa, sight unseen? Actually, his parents had applied for him, test score in hand, but the fact remains that IQ tests have served Sterling well. He almost always scores in the 99th percentile, whether he’s tested with Wechsler, Stanford-Binet or Kaufman-ABC. Regardless whether the reference group is state, nation or planet, he’s in the 99th percentile. Once he bottomed out in the 97th percentile, but on that particular test day he had a fever of 101° and was coming down with the flu and had to be woken up to answer one of the questions that had lulled him to sleep. Given the medical circumstances the school decided to strike that low score which otherwise would have blemished his record (but still raised the school’s average). This kindness notwithstanding, Sterling was as eager as ever to fight the school authorities. Sometimes his fights involve a genuine disagreement over educational philosophy; more often he feels some bug up his ass.
This year Sterling is expecting basically to repeat his standard performance. In the past he has given a brief, if extremely selective, history of intelligence tests, how educators used them to separate the wheat from the chaff, with the latter getting tagged as “idiot,” “imbecile” or “moron.” Later as a bow to political correctness, educators modernized their language and constructed rubrics such as “defective” and “borderline.” Even today the terms “mentally challenged,” “developmentally disabled” or “slow learner” are informally associated with low scores. The military also employed the IQ test, which allowed it to pre-select potential leaders and exclude the rest from meritorious advancement. Sterling is expected to rehash the same arguments he had presented for the past six years: that the tests are costly, that they serve as a detour on the educational highway, that they do not lead to better learning by students or better teaching by teachers, and that many academicians question their validity. Some studies have shown an extraordinary variation from year to year in test scores taken by an individual child. He normally uses a PowerPoint that summarizes the past year’s critical literature. He especially tracks the “Just Say No” crowd who oppose any type of interpretation of test scores beyond a global IQ, although Sterling, himself, is particularly opposed to the composite, global, or full-scale IQ. As the tests have grown more sophisticated over time, with increasingly sophisticated subtests, educational psychologists have focused on interpreting these individual tests, which may include just a few questions and a subjective assessment by the examiner, to try to understand a child’s particular strengths and weaknesses. Educationalists continue to fill internet forums with numerous and various complaints about the individual subtests. Some of the loudest voices are those of the examiners themselves.
For many years the standard IQ test administrated in America has been the WISC, or Wechsler Intelligence Scales, named after a pioneer in the field of educational assessment in the mid-1930s, David Wechsler (1896-1981). These tests have been under constant revision, to better address theoretical concerns, in order to develop subtests that relate to specific types of memory or reasoning. From 1991 the version called WISC-III was administered to children ages 6 to 16, having replaced the previous modification from 1974. The WISC-III was the last test Sterling took, before he started his boycott. The WISC is not a mass test like the college boards with several hundred students sitting in a gymnasium, with proctors roaming the aisles looking for cheaters. The WISC tests, which cost about $32 per student (minimum order 25), are a one-on-one sit-down. They require an individual test giver
for each examinee to spent at least an hour, often longer. The person who gives the test is expected to have graduate- or professional-level training in psychological assessment. WISC-III is the very test that earned Sterling his hated Mensa membership.
In 2003 the WISC-IV arrived. The new edition was a fundamentally different test, and had involved a major theoretical rethink, “the most substantial revision of any Wechsler scale to date.” The school administrators of Durham Prep wanted to administer it, over time to each student at the school. Because of the test’s expense and demand on professional’s time, normally these types of tests are given only to students who have manifested a problem in their schooling, mostly reflected in poor grades. A classroom teacher refers the child to the school psychologist, who then gives him or her the test and later tries to interpret the results and assess the pupil’s weakness. Sterling did not object to tests administered this way although he challenged their effectiveness. But to blanket the school body with this unnecessary effort irritated Sterling. WISC-IV was not just the normal bug up the kid’s rather packed ass; it was more like a high colonic administered by fire hose.
Over the years Sterling had gotten more aggressive in his vituperation against WISC-IV. He had added a brief discussion of eugenics to his tirade. He had especially targeted his African-American and Hispanic schoolmates, who represent a class which for various reasons score poorer on standardized tests than do their middle-class white counterparts. He had raised the ugly specter of “test-racism.” For the large group of Asian students – 15 percent of the student body – he hypothesized that these tests downgraded the importance of mental rigor (read memory skills) over the type of freewheeling thinking process that is associated with American creativity. “Socrates might be a genius, but on these tests poor Mr. Confucius would be lucky if he comes off much better than moron,” he had said, instantly attracting all the Asian-Americans to his corner. The result of this harangue was to drive the students into a frenzy, creating such palpable fear that several of the more high strung had to run to the toilet to vomit. From 2003 to the present almost no Durham Prep student has wanted the opportunity being offered: to take the WISC-IV, a test which might just lower their previously established IQ.
It’s no secret that IQ tests are flawed. Much of the academic literature quibbles over one or another defect. Many, if not most, educators agree, however, that WISC-IV is a leap forward in assessing individual student’s strengths and witnesses. It serves as an invaluable tool for the educational psychologist – the most useless of school staff in Sterling’s opinion – whose goal it is to strengthen cognitive weaknesses and improve academic achievements among pupils. The purpose of the IQ test, in its WISC format, is to generate data that may be used to develop effective interventions to resolve problems that the classroom teacher catches, be they with oral or written language, mathematics, reading, or phonemic awareness. Simply put, Durham Prep sees the IQ test as a way to help improve the individual examinee; Sterling says he sees it as a way to classify an individual on an intelligence scale and to perpetuate the educational psychology establishment.
Sterling’s fear of the test is grounded in something much more personal than he lets on. He had tracked the changes from WISC-III to WISC-IV. He had participated in the internet forums devoted to this issue, as a poorly informed educational psychologist (
[email protected] email allowed him to pull off this hoax). It did not take him long to comprehend the theory behind the tests and the reasons the changes had been made. After he studied the instructor’s manual for the WISC-IV and some sample questions, he was able to project how the changes would affect his individual score. This test, by his estimate, would not verify his IQ to be much above 140. Even with practice tests in his weak areas, he would not likely increase that score more than .35 - .58 standard deviations, at the most slightly more than one scaled point, thus 141. Also, this was not a test he could study for, even if he could find black market copies. He agitated over these distressing facts for a few days, during which time he did not sleep well and, for one of the few times in his life, he became constipated. Literally, he was scared shitless. The remedy was two-fold: he went on attack against the WISC-IV and his mother administered a warm water enema.
Sterling knows something about his own intellectual strengths and weaknesses, thanks in part to the brain scans he had undergone and the barrage of tests he had taken by those lab-coated technicians who were eagerly waiting to dissect his brain. The simple conclusion he had reached: strong in memory, weak in visualization, sound and graphic/design areas. WISC-IV comprised fifteen subtests. These tests, in turn, were combined to build the four components of the test which, when maneuvered statistically, produced the composite IQ. Sterling did not fear two of the four components (verbal comprehension and working memory). He could easily ace all the subtests in these components: similarities, vocabulary, comprehension, information, word reasoning, digit span, letter-number and arithmetic. The other two components posed the problem. They would discern his weaknesses because the testing method incorporates visual tools, rather than words. The Perceptual Reasoning Index includes three tasks: block design, matrix reasoning and picture concepts. The first task consists of colored blocks which are put together to make designs. The second consists of a sequence or group of designs, and the individual is required to fill in a missing design from five choices. The third requires the examinee to match pictures which belong together based on common characteristics. All three measure non-verbal concept formation, intelligence and reasoning. It’s not that Sterling would “fail” these tests. He would be a bit slower, demi-seconds rather than nano-seconds, and the score produced would be lower than one that might be suggested by his elevated verbal scores. Processing Speed is Sterling’s other weak component. This represents the ability to perform simple, clerical type tasks quickly; it includes two tests: coding and symbol-search. The first is an exercise in which symbols are matched with numbers or shapes according to a key. It measures visual-motor speed and short-term visual memory. The second requires the examinee to identify the presence or absence of a target symbol in a row of symbols.
The Wechsler tests address the major criticism that intelligence tests are bias in favor of convergent, analytical and scientific modes of thought versus divergent, artistic and imaginative modes of thought. That’s a bias that favors Sterling, and he knows it. WISC-IV’s incorporation of so many picture-associated tests responds to that very criticism. The Wechsler tries to correct that bias, something which Sterling appreciates but does not like, as a stakeholder. Sterling is annoyed that the revised test design will disadvantage him. His shotgun attack of the tests is his response. Ironically, Durham Prep does not want to test Sterling. As of his recent birthday, he has become too old to be a test subject for this particular test. Therefore, the school told him pointedly that he doesn’t need to come to the meeting. Coach Mac, the school’s temporary psychologist, has specifically asked him not to come. Sterling weighed this request against all the messages of fear he received from the lower-form students and wrote back to Coach Mac that he was “morally obligated” to go to the meeting. He promised to say “little,” which, he reasoned to himself, is a pledge that doesn’t mean much given the relative nature of “little” “much” and other measures of uncountable quantity. A step ahead of Sterling, Coach Mac emailed back that he would understand “little” to be fewer than 75 words and he would be counting. That email, as well as others trying to find him, unfortunately, was returned, “550 Requested action not taken: mailbox unavailable.”
Before he even enters the school auditorium, Sterling has the support of the underclass boys and girls, including the autistics. This year he does not come very prepared. He has no PowerPoint and has not surveyed the literature which, under normal circumstances, he would have done the previous night. Without a prepared text, he takes another tack with a new proposal. “In the spirit of democracy
and full disclosure, if the school is so adamant about testing, why not test everyone as well as the teachers? Teachers have access to their students’ IQ scores, why not have a reciprocal arrangement?” he asks. To this concision he adds: “These tests favor people like me who have good memories over those who have other types of intelligence,” (total 57 words by Coach Mac’s count). Behind this statement was the fact that Sterling had been impressed with what Howard Gardner has to say on multiple intelligences. You can be an art genius (gifted like maybe Sara) or a music genius (the Trips, he has to reluctantly admit) and still not score as high as Sterling on IQ tests. This test is specifically biased against those types of students. After saying his mind, he sits down, leaving his supporters a bit disappointed. He is thanked for his brevity and Coach Mac, the test administrator, is invited to say a few words.
For most of Sterling’s time at Durham Prep the post of school psychologist has been vacant. After his first successful attack on the IQ test in 2003, the long-serving psychologist became so depressed that she took early retirement. The next occupant was a young man who was a constant thorn in Sterling’s side and vice-versa. Not only had this man wanted to test Sterling but, once denied that option (Sterling gave so many ludicrous answers that the examiner quit after administering but the first section), he began to psychologically access the young man on the basis of nothing more than conversation and observation. Sterling so bad-mouthed this adult that none of his fellow students would visit him, at least not voluntarily. His reputation thus in tatters, he took a job at Harvard as a student counselor. Coach Mac became his successor.
Mac rises and addresses the student body. He says he agrees with most all the objections that Sterling has raised in past years and those he presented today. Mac promises he would not look at the global IQ statistic. He would have his secretary black it out from every copy in the file. Neither students, nor parents, nor teachers nor the psychologist himself would ever know a pupil’s score. It was only the subtest scores that interest him. The issue is not using the test to identify poor performance. Everyone at this school is gifted. “My goal,” he tells the students, “is to get you to do better than you are doing, which translates in getting you into the best university, your top choice. We can look at your individual subtests and identify areas you can improve on. You don’t know those areas that can be improved, just like I don’t know these areas in myself. But the tests can identify them. That’s why they are so important, with all due respect to Mr. Eumorfopoulos.”
He then turns to Sterling. “I promise you 100% privacy; the day I break that promise is the last day I work at this school.” To the rest he says, “Let me help get you all into the college of your choice.”
He sits down to the students’ approbation. They had not applauded Sterling as they had in past years. That had aggravated him a bit, but then again he recognizes he gave an off-the-cuff presentation, no PowerPoints, no impressive charts, no technology (his friend and crutch). The students bought what Mac said. The psychologist had put a sign-up sheet for those who wanted to be tested with WISC-IV. The sheet is mobbed. A deserved victory for the coach who has seen few victories since his departure from Duke, he reasons.
Sterling needs to have his senior schedule approved so he follows Mac to his office. Mac tells him to wait outside while he talks briefly with some other students. Sterling then hails Buffeau as he comes around the corner.
“Can I borrow your cell?” he asks.
Brandon treats his phone as an appendage of himself and slowly removes it from his jeans. He’s not eager to turn it over to Sterling.
“Hey, I’m not going to give it a blow-job,” Sterling comments, holding out his hand. Buffeau hands him the phone.
“Local calls only,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sterling replies, punching in the number for Billy. He waits for it to be answered.
“Hey, Brandy, how’s it hanging?” comes a familiar voice, which Sterling recognizes. He looks at the small screen which confirms that he has dialed William Duke III, a number in Buffeau’s directory. There’s a pause while he tries to think of what to say. He should cut off the call immediately and give the phone back to Billy/William, saying “wrong number” or something. But it’s a bit late for that. It would take only a call-back for William to realize that Sterling had been on the line. The old Sterling would have made a joke out of not being “Brandy” but neither William or Brandon would find any humor. He says, simply “Billy?”
There is a longer pause. Sterling is pretty sure his friend can recognize his voice. Buffeau has taken all this in and he grabs back the phone.
“William, your friend Sterling borrowed my phone. Sorry, he called you.” Then, muffled says something that Sterling cannot hear, but can imagine as “be careful what you say.” He returns the phone to Sterling.
“Hey, I haven’t heard from you, William. Can you come over?”
“I’m sort of busy, end of term and all,” William replies.
“I know. But I could use your help. I saw the lawyer yesterday. That’s the lawyer referred to by your lady lawyer. I’m in some shit.”
There is a pause. “Yeah,” Billy says. “Give me Brandon. I’ll come over tonight.”
Sterling hands back the phone to Buffeau who goes down the hall so he can enjoy a more private conversation right under the sign that says: NO CELL PHONES – 2 demerit offence.
The students leave Mac’s office and Sterling takes their place.
“Hey Mr. Mac. I need course approval for next term. Actually, just the forms. You can sign the blank ones; that’s what everyone does,” Sterling says breezily.
Mac searches in a file and hands him the forms.
“You have enough credits to graduate. May I ask why you’re postponing college, yet again.”
“You know, this and that really,” Sterling answers. Mac lets the non-reply slide.
“And what will you do senior year?” he asks.
“I’d like to try out for the lacrosse team, if you’ll let me. I’ve definitely decided to play. For courses, I’ve found 3 APs and Arabic 101. Two at Duke, two at Carolina. I’ll get the auditing forms for you to sign.”
“Sterling, I think if you want to stay at Durham Prep, you need to take courses here. Is there nothing you haven’t taken?
“The languages – Greek, Chinese and Russian – but I think Arabic is the language of the future, especially if I’m cut out for something like foreign service. We offer Russian, that’s sort of a dead language, geo-politically, isn’t it? Then there’s Chinese, but I don’t look Chinese; I’ll always be a foreigner in their eyes. But I might pass for Arab. I would have to get uncircumcised, but that’s no problem.”
This was not an offhand remark. Sterling had indeed investigated foreskin restoration on the web. Some years back, when erection was still a novelty, the B Club had had a long discussion, interrupted by constant web referral, about retracted foreskin, paraphimosis, smegma, glans penis and the like. Sterling, who thought he knew everything about the pleasure organ, was amazed to learn that his friends had to clean beneath their foreskin daily, a hygienic chore “just like washing your hair or brushing your teeth,” with just water, never soap, according to the Trips who must have cleaned in unison when they took their daily shower together. The Friday Night educational discussion had included a modest amount of show and tell, to which only Sterling and Gedalyahu Chaim Zuckermandel could not participate with any pride. From that evening on Sterling had been determined to get his prepuce back – circumcision was something his mother had inflicted on him before he could oppose the butchery, and he was determined to regain the reins of control. The family health plan would not pay for the surgery needed for foreskin restoration unless it were deemed essential for the “patient’s psychological welfare.” Sterling feared he was too psychologically sound to qualify; in any case surgery was not recommended on the web. Rather he wo
uld endure a tissue expansion procedure, with a contraption called the Dual Tension Restorer. He had already priced them on the internet. If he used it on non-sex nights, he’d become uncut in only a matter of time. How long depended on how uncut he wanted to be and that couldn’t be determined until he had begun. Before this, however, he had to take the matter up with Sara; he had penciled in this chat for summer vacation.
Mac studies the boy. This is a kid who has all the answers. Then he says flatly: “I’m not going to approve anything until you tell me why you’re staying here. And don’t try to pull rank and go the principal. We agree on this.” He returns the forms to Sterling, unsigned.
“That’s shitty,” Sterling says quietly. The new Sterling is not supposed to use foul language; but the reply was spontaneous and meant no disrespect. “Sorry,” he immediately adds.
There is a long pause. Sterling hasn’t rehearsed a response but he has several candidates. One, he’s not mature enough for college. Who could disagree? Also, he has some legal issues to take care of, resulting from that immaturity. Two, he’s still grieving his sister’s death and doesn’t want any more abrupt life course corrections. Three, he’s not ready to leave home; his parents need him. Four, he’s quite comfortable, a whale in the little Durhamic pond of adolescents; he has a girlfriend (and great sex) and a school he practically owns. Why rush to college with all its limitations? Five, and the only response he cares to offer Mac, is that the deadline for college applications has long past, so the point is no longer moot. If the school won’t keep him, he’ll get a job bagging groceries or something. Does Durham Prep really want to have that on it’s conscious? Instead, he says:
“Can I get back to you on that?” he asks. The new Sterling has learned, in the past few days, that the first dozen or so ideas that pop into his mind are precisely the ones he should not impulsively act upon. His brainstorms need to be navigated with care. If given sufficient thought, most bright ideas eventually lose their glow. Smiley Boy had been a quick decision and look where it has landed him.