I sat straight it my chair, a No. 2 lead pencil in my hand. I felt like I was back in high school, getting ready to take my SAT exam.
Instead, I was taking a test to join the St. Louis Area Mensa, a chapter of the international high-IQ organization.
It was Friday night and eight of us were sitting in the Manchester Room at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Bridgeton. The local Mensa chapter hosted a three-day regional gathering, featuring fun, movies and seminars.
I went to find out if I was Mensa material and also to meet some of the members and find out what they’re like.
“The biggest misconception is that we sit around and talk about science or literature all day long,” said Jackie Boyle, president of the St. Louis Area Mensa. “Some do, but we also talk about movies, sports, television, our kids. We’re just as normal as anybody else.”
Mensa’s goals are to use intelligence to benefit humanity, urge research about the nature of intelligence, and provide a social environment for its members.
First, you have to qualify. To join Mensa, you must score 98 percent or better on their own copyrighted tests or on any standardized IQ test.
The test proctor was Bob Smith, who spoke with an easy drawl. He checked photos ID’s to make sure we weren’t trying to impersonate somebody.
For the first test, he handed out the test booklet, the answer sheet, pencils, and a piece of scrap paper for math problems. The answer sheet had the standard circles to be darkened by pencil.
“Don’t open the booklet,” Smith suddenly said in a sharp tone.
Then, he read a story about the ancient Greeks and how they worshipped their gods. We were told we’d be tested on it later.
The first test was divided into seven parts, each with time limits of four to seven minutes.
Some parts were difficult. For example, one question showed drawings of four different hats. Then, you had to choose which ones didn’t belong in the group. Another had a drawing of four plants with the same question. I was guessing a bit on those.
Other parts were easier. I breezed through word definitions, a product of 34 years of writing. The last part was on the story about the ancient Greeks. Again, I had no trouble.
The time limits were the most difficult aspect. I didn’t finished three parts because of time. I felt like, shouting, “One more minute, I’m begging.”
The second part was a series of questions covering a variety of topics. Some consisted of a sentence with the answers as true, false and I don’t know. Some required math while others were multiple choice.
Again, time was the enemy. I thought I was doing pretty well, but the proctor ended it, gathered up the booklets, and took away our scrap paper. He invited us to the Mensa Hospitality Room for snacks and to visit the Mensa members.
I went and talked with some of the members. I remarked that they all seemed normal to me; they responded with smiles and I’ve-heard-that-before eye rolls. Several were happy to talk, but refused to supply last names or hometowns for this story.
Apparently, that’s not uncommon. A lot of Mensa members don’t talk about the club, Smith said.
“People might think you’re bragging or they have a lot of questions,” she said.
She also recommended that members be careful about noting their membership on a job resume.
“I only would use it for computer science, engineering, fields like that,” Smith said. She herself is a retired mathematics teacher.
I asked her if I should despair if I don’t qualify.
“Not at all,” she said. “Find the parts that you did well and see if they’re appropriate for your life.”
Mensa will notify me in two to three weeks. However, if I make it, you can bet I’m going to tell somebody
http://www.stltoday.com/suburban-journals/metro/life/article_b4dddab1-f98b-56d9-b87f-fafda4a8d682.html
By Scott Bandle Posted: Monday, February 28, 2011 Metro St. Louis Suburban Journals / Life section
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