It’s the strangest feeling to be young enough to indulge in Pokemon yet old enough to understand life exists past the age of 12. I recall the dress the teacher wore as she came in, the brown, oversized envelope , her face as she announced that I was ‘gifted’; how, lacking any better reaction, I simply sunk from my chair onto the floor. I was both happy and confused. I did not comprehend its impact.

I recall telling my sister, before the flagpole where we sang every morning, that our lives were going to change in ways we could not imagine. She was 12. She must have felt that those words were pretty bizarre to be uttered by a 9-year-old. They were. Maybe I was trying to be cool. I still feel embarrassed over that.

The whole experience, from acceptance to departure from the programme, could perhaps best be described as a blink from reality, like sinking into a world removed from society. No exams, no girls. My world after reentering reality would thus be something that I, once again, could not comprehend.