As I’ve mentioned before, one of the reasons I find IQ so fascinating is that the woman who tested me as a child (a South Asian woman clad in traditional Indian garb) looked like a fortune teller.

Because teachers were not qualified to administer the Wechsler intelligence scales, the Indian woman would drive for hours in the fierce winter blizzards, wearing sandals in the snow, to schools in the middle of old country roads leading to nowhere, just to test a single child., who she would escort to in my case a brick room in the back of the resource room with a circular table, where out of her orange fluorescent folder poured a never ending series of jig-saw puzzles, colorful blocks, and cartoon stories about black kids on tarot like cards, all as her stop clock would tick loudly.

And then she would vanish, and test scores would be locked in the filing cabinet of the school’s dark basement, collecting dust for decades.

Unlike the SAT which is actively shapes a person’s destiny, official IQ tests like the WISC-R simply predicted it.

One such child whose destiny was predicted by an IQ test, was Kenny Countie.

County was an incredibly gifted athlete, and a popular outgoing young man with many friends. But he had a very low IQ, and sadly, IQ is often destiny.

Like me he joined the army reserves as a young man, but after being honorably discharged, he began dating an older wealthy woman who asked him to live with her on her gorgeous and luxurious farm.

At the time people thought “just goes to show IQ is NOT destiny. Despite his low IQ, Kenny has won the game!”

But his mother knew better. Who was this mysterious woman who was taking over her son’s life? Kenny had depended on his mother for everything, and now they had completely lost contact as he lived in the remote country.

A few months later he was spotted at Walmart in a wheelchair, badly bruised, being pushed around by the mysterious older woman.

Finally his mother had enough. She went to the farm, confronted the older woman and demanded to know where her son was.

“He’s over there” said the older woman, pointing to a garbage bag full of flesh and bones.

It was a moment his mother would never recover from. Her innocent loving trusting son naively thought he had won the good life when he was invited to the farm to live with his new girlfriend, but instead was sacrificed to fulfill her sadistic desire to dominate vulnerable men.

It’s one thing for some childhood IQ test to have told her that her son would grow up to be disposable, but quite another to have him literally end up in a garbage bag and at the age of only 24.

Generally speaking, IQ is destiny.