I spent a couple months in third grade doing all my math homework in base five until my teacher conned first fourth- and fifth-grade teachers into taking me in for the math part of the day, then a sixth-grade teacher into letting me take a math book home for Christmas break, then a prealgebra teacher at the junior high into letting me into his first-period class.

This would be more impressive had I kept it up. Unfortunately, that summer we moved. Mississippi schools suck, y'all. Biloxi's supposed to be the best district in the state, and if that's the best, I pity the schoolkids in the rest of the state. I skipped fourth grade, and if it hadn't been all arranged before the move it wouldn't have happened. My fifth-grade teacher couldn't talk any algebra teachers into taking me on. Then we switched from public to Catholic schools, and the junior-senior Catholic high principal wouldn't let me at an algebra book. And then I moved up to the junior-senior high, and the prealgebra teacher was "oh, there must be something she can learn." Not from you, lady, you weren't teaching algebra. I finally got to algebra in eighth grade, along with all the other eighth graders. I do not think my parents were terribly surprised when my career ambitions changed from math and science to things that involve words and fast typing.