Some of the visiting neighbors have been amused to see her sit on the floor with an encyclopedia as big as she is, rapidly turning the pages. Only Star and I know she is reading the pages as rapidly as she can turn them. I've brushed away the neighbors' comments with: "She likes to look at the pictures." They talk to her in baby talk--and she answers in baby talk! How does she know enough to do that? I have spent the months making an exhaustive record of her I.Q. measurements, aptitude speeds, reaction, tables, all the recommended paraphernalia for measuring something we know nothing about. The tables are screwy, or Star is beyond all measurement. All right, Pete Holmes, how are you going to pose those problems and combat them for her, when you have no conception of what they might be? But I must have a conception. I've got to be able to comprehend at least a little of what she may face. I simply couldn't stand by and do nothing. Easy, though. Nobody knows better than you the futility of trying to compete out of your class. How many students, workers and employers have tried to compete with you? You've watched them and pitied them, comparing them to a donkey trying to run the Kentucky Derby. How does it feel to be in the place of the donkey, for a change? You've always blamed them for not realizing they shouldn't try to compete. But this is my own daughter! I _must_ understand. * * * * * _October 1st_ Star is now four years old, and according to State Law her mind has now developed enough so that she may attend nursery school. Again I tried to prepare her for what she might face. She listened through about two sentences and changed the subject. I can't tell about Star. Does she already know the answers? Or does she not even realize there is a problem? I was in a sweat of worry when I took her to her first day at school yesterday morning. Last night I was sitting in my chair, reading. After she had put her dolls away, she went to the bookshelves and brought down a book of fairy tales. That is another peculiarity of hers. She has an unmeasurably quick perception, yet she has all the normal reactions of a little girl. She likes her dolls, fairy stories, playing grown up. No, she's not a monster. She brought the book of fairy tales over to me. "Daddy, read me a story," she asked quite seriously. I looked at her in amazement. "Since when? Go read your own story." She lifted an eyebrow in imitation of my own characteristic gesture. "Children of my age do not read," she instructed pedantically. "I can't learn to read until I am in the first grade. It is very hard to do and I am much too little." She had found the answer to her affliction--conformity! She had already learned to conceal her intelligence. So many of us break our hearts before we learn that. But you don't have to conceal it from me, Star! Not from me! Oh, well, I could go along with the gag, if that was what she wanted.