Politicians do not always remember that they represent the average citizen. School board trustees do not always remember that they are politicians.
In the early years of the twentieth century it must have come as something of a shock to many of them to learn their own reading scores and those of their children. Platoons, regiments and battalions of them, have therefore squandered large mountains of taxpayers' funds in a fruitless search for "g."
They have looked for "g" in Florida. They have looked for "g" in Minnesota. They have looked for "g" in Kalgoorlie. They have looked for "g" all over England. "g" has something to do with how well you do in school. "g" has something to do with being employed. No single test measures "g."
The single most important aspect of any arguments about "g," or for that matter entire textbooks on the subject of psychology is, of course, that the word "literacy" cannot be mentioned. No. Not now. Not ever.
If anyone has ever questioned this, we cannot be sure. It is as if a hand comes out of the clouds and scoops them up. It is also possible that grants are available only for those projects that support the contention that literacy is genetically transmitted. Of course, the idea that anyone who can read a book at all has been born mentally gifted has much appeal in some select social circles.
Across the land in bars where sports fans congregate, the test of intelligence is simply a matter of how much noise an individual can make. In the on-going challenge to develop a monster pick-up truck that can somersault over any vehicle which happens to impede its progress on the freeway, such as ambulances, army tanks or police cars, we can perhaps extract the underlying principles of logic that have led to the creation of education, as we know it.
If your wife learns to read, she has a personality disorder. If your daughter learns to read, she has a mental disorder. If your son learns to read, he was born gay. If you have learned to read, you have developed a learning disability. Life long learning only transpires when you sit in a classroom and listen to someone talk. The written word has not been invented, yet. There will be a test. We are only interested in what you have heard. The most literate half of the entire planet does not exist. Got it?
Well, you better, 'cause next month we're gonna look into how to expand a sentence of, say three or four words, such as "The Fittest Survive" or "It Ain't Necessarily So," into a book of twenty-five chapters.

This item by George Noviss was included in Montage January/February 2002 The Mensa Newsletter for Toronto, Hamilton, Kitchener/Waterloo, London, Windsor/Sarnia

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