A long time ago, in France, a kind man named Alfred Binet was given a job. Some children in school were struggling, and no one was sure why, or how to help them.
Could Mr Binet make something that would find those children, so they could be given extra help?
So he built it: a set of small puzzles and questions — the very first "intelligence test." But Binet worried about his own invention, and he said the same thing out loud, again and again, so no one would forget: This only shows how a child is doing today.
It is not a label. It is certainly not forever. A child's mind can grow, like a plant that is watered. He meant the test to be a helping hand: here is who needs a bit more time, a bit more care. He did not mean it to be a judge that stamped children "clever" or "not clever" for life.
But a number is a slippery thing. Other people picked up his kind idea and used it as a stamp after all — pressing it onto children as if it could never wash off.
But Binet was right the first time. We know now that he was right: the brain really does grow when you use it, the way a muscle grows when you lift. The boy who is "behind" in October can be racing ahead by spring.
So if anyone ever hands you a number and says that is how clever you are, remember the man who made the very first test, and what he never stopped trying to tell everyone: today, only today — and you are still growing. A test can show how one morning went. It can never show how far you'll go.
A wonder to try: add one word to "I can't do this." The word is yet.
(from Ch.21, "The Science of Sorting Souls" — Binet's true intention)
