My mother came by on Christmas Eve for a brief visit. As usual she told my children how I was as a kid. Here is one of those stories:
In some sort of pre-school I impressed the teachers with my extreme knowledge about all sorts of things. We often sat on floor and a teacher showed a picture with an animal, plan, flower, insect, vehicle - well anything. I never raised my hand - but teacher sometimes asked me anyway. And every time I immediately provided the correct name of the animal or flower. Every time! Apparently teachers were impressed and reported my deep knowledge to my parents.
The trick? Well, all signs had the names of object printed below the picture and apparently I was the only kid in that class of very young people that could read! And this was apparently a well kept secret.I played along in all sorts of game - hiding th fact I could read and write.
My parents revealed I could read and write and the mystery was gone. After that my mother asked: "But why didn't you tell them you could read? And why didn't you raise your hand?"
"But, mum, don't you think we should give the other kids a chance too?"