Gifted Hands

by Ben Carson

Benjamin, is this your report card?” my mother asked as she picked up the folded white card from the table. “Uh, yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. Too ashamed to hand it to her, I had dropped it on the table, hoping that she wouldn’t notice until after I went to bed. It was the first report card I had received from Higgins Elementary School since we had moved back from Boston to Detroit, only a few months earlier. I had been in the fifth grade not even two weeks before everyone considered me the dumbest kid in the class and frequently made jokes about me. Before long I too began to feel as though I really was the most stupid kid in fifth grade. Despite Mother’s frequently saying, “You’re smart, Bennie. You can do anything you want to do,” I did not believe her. No one else in school thought I was smart, either.