Grade school was a demonic period of depression and early academic failure. I knew mockery, because I was unable to keep up with most course work. Early on, I was kept out of the testing, occasionally, slapped down on our wooden topped desks because I was seen as “stupid”. It was supposed to be comforting, to be sent out to the playground while my classmates worked. No comfort was found out there. My not being included was one more reason some classmates derided me. I felt grade school fashions of sarcasm, hammering me through most of those years.
All of that sneering, I had supposed, would wilt and die away as academic prowess sprouted out through the cracks of my hardened certainty of stupidity. Somewhere between the start of 8th grade and my freshman year my teachers caught sight of my beginning to show a whole new side of myself. The further I went in math and science, though, the more scorn was thrown on me. My demonstrating an intellect no teacher or parent had suspected, I still knew ridicule. So then, I see this idea of “sarcasm” as a natural defence against “stupid”, itself as self-deception.