(Please don't feel that you should supply an even more simplified explanation; while at some point I would "get it", a couple of months later I will have forgotten and start pestering you all over again.)
Popular science books are a blessing and a curse at the same time. My bookshelf includes several that attempt to explain Einstein's theory of relativity (although mostly limited to special as opposed to general relativity) in lay terms. I work my way through these books, often re-reading a sentence or paragraph several times until I feel that I've understood.
In reality it can't be said that I truly understood it at all, otherwise I would be capable of independently detecting and refuting such erroneous presentations of van Flandern's.
Is it because I'm stupid? I guess it depends on how you define intelligence. Most young boys want to be astronauts or firemen when they grow up, I wanted to become a Nobel prize-winning physicist (yeah, funny). That was before I discovered that I have no talent for math.
I wonder if there is such a thing as an indicator of intelligence that is free from bias and preconceptions.
My two lines of work are translation and simultaneous conference interpreting. I find written translation to be immensely harder than interpreting. Probably I suffer from attention deficit disorder although it has not been diagnosed. Just finishing a translation job on time requires me to exercise tremendous powers of will and concentration, and I sincerely believe that a choir of angels should appear every time and blow a trumpet chorus in my praise.
Although my customers sometimes tell me they appreciate my work, no one ever expresses admiration. But when I'm interpreting at a conference, invariably one or several participants will walk up to me and say, "Oh, I'm completely in awe at what you guys do. How do you do it?"
I'll smile and say thank you. Should I tell them that it's not work but fun and enjoyment? That instead of feeling wrung out at the end of the day, I'm exhilarated and ten years younger? I never suffer from attention lapses or boredom when I'm in the booth.
But what some people seem to think is an incredible feat actually comes easy to me.
Maybe there is not one intelligence but many, unrelated ones.
I work my way through these books, often re-reading a sentence or paragraph several times until I feel that I've understood. This clearly indicates depth, which is why I happen to disagree with one of your conclusions:
Is it because I'm stupid? I guess it depends on how you define intelligence… I wanted to become a… physicist… That was before I discovered that I have no talent for math.
Although a mathematics genius often declares him(her)self early, it is very, very hard to determine who does not have talent for mathematics. This is because most people do not encounter mathematics at school, although that may be the subject of the course.
A person that cannot undo parentheses in algebra falls behind very quickly and, more often than not, concludes, incorrectly, that "math is not for him." Well, this is much like studying the rules of the road without ever getting behind the wheel, getting bored to death, letting your mind wonder as a result, failing to perform and concluding that "driving is not for you." All of us, regardless of our capabilities, need an objective to stay focused; when one is not given, the mind simply shuts down to preserve itself --- very wisely, if you stop to think of it --- and we oftentimes confound that with inaptitude.
Undoing parenthesis and trigonometric identities are much like the words we use in speech, and mastering them is similar to learning to speak. Mathematical thinking, however, lies beyond that: it is what you speak about, not the words one uses. One has to get beyond the mundane, yet initially arduous, tasks to start seeing images. (I feel the same when I listen to Bach or Vivaldi: their music intertwines quite easily with what I see while doing mathematics.) It is incredibly rare, however, to encounter a schoolteacher that can impart this feeling to students. As a result, people often interpret their lack of early progress in mathematics as their own failure; hardly ever they have a chance to reconsider.
From what you kindly shared with me, I am confident that you merely had a bad teacher.
Although my customers sometimes tell me they appreciate my work, no one ever expresses admiration. But when I'm interpreting at a conference, invariably one or several participants will walk up to me and say, "Oh, I'm completely in awe at what you guys do. How do you do it?"
As I am sure you know, how people perceive an object and the degree to which they like or are surprised by it depends not only on the object but on the observer himself. Someone has defined satisfaction as "quality delivered minus quality expected." Most conference participants have very low expectation of what they could do being in your shoes: yours is a rare talent, and most people do not even attempt simultaneous translation. The difference between these expectations and the "quality delivered" by you is therefore enormous, hence the reaction.
Although the skills required for "paper' translation are also nontrivial, people can relate to them easier: "Well, he just learned a foreign language; had I done so, given enough time, I could do that also." Never mind the falsehood (incompleteness) of such assumptions --- they result in quite high "quality expected," hence lower evaluation.
In your case, evaluation is a subtle matter, but most are much more blatant and ridiculous. I never knew that until I started to teach myself. As I am writing this, I recall an evaluation that a colleague of mine received from a student after a quarter-long, graduate-level business course. It contained one sentence: "Wears nice shoes." Go figure…
Thanks for writing; I enjoyed our conversation.