13 Year Old Math Wizz Makes It Into Morehouse College

AJC: 13 Year Old Math prodigy took unique path to college

In a navy pinstripe suit too big for his small frame, 13-year-old Stephen Stafford II sat in the last row of a packed auditorium at Clark Atlanta University. He devoted his full attention to his handheld video game.

Next to him his mother, Michelle, watched the stage so he wouldn’t miss his cue. The occasion was a college prep seminar. Stephen, a student at Morehouse College, was to be the special guest speaker.

In the audience were about 200 African American high school students, full of hopes for college but in some cases low on money and grades. The session’s message was urgent, repeated like the hook of a pop tune: Bad grades kill college plans faster than low bank accounts. Buckle down, don’t give up.

Stephen fidgeted. Every now and then, his mother shot him a sharp glance that meant be still. If Stephen happened to catch it, a sheepish grin crossed his heart-shaped face.

This pre-show routine has become old hat for Stephen. For months he and his mom have gone before audiences to tell the story of how he arrived at Morehouse almost three years ago. He knows his lines well: Gifted in math; began college classes at age 11; doesn’t believe standardized tests best measure ability; plans a triple major of biology, math and computer science; will become a doctor if he doesn’t create the next Google.

Michelle fills in the rest of the family’s story, a sermon on achievement delivered with passion worthy of a revival meeting: With “relentless” parental involvement and advocacy, a lot of kids out there could be like Stephen.

It’s common to hear the tale of a young black child as a budding rapper or sports star. Yet in a country where by virtually any measure, black boys fare far worse than their white classmates in school, Stephen’s story stands in high relief.

Which is why his parents, Michelle in particular, have been so intent on telling it. They say it is an antidote to the worn narrative that portrays black boys as classroom underachievers at best, potential criminals at worst. It stokes the debate over the virtues of standardized testing, and is a reminder that schools alone aren’t responsible for educating children.

Most of all, it is a testament to the Staffords’ belief that parents must believe their kids can succeed and push toward that goal, even if it means taking risks and ignoring some conventional tenets of education.

The Clark Atlanta auditorium grew quiet as the moderator introduced the keynote speaker.

“You ready?” Michelle asked her son.

On cue, Stephen tucked his game into his pocket, straightened his tie and strode down the aisle to a swell of applause.

Portrait of a prodigy

Stephen sees himself as a kid like any other, albeit one who is in college when most children his age are in middle school. Even though he lives at home and sleeps in a bunk bed with Scooby Doo sheets, campus life seems to suit him. Between classes he hangs out with his Morehouse friends debating, among other things, the virtues of PlayStation Portable vs. Nintendo DS. Teachers say he’s engaged in class. But when he toys with the lift on his chair so the seat slides up and down like an amusement park ride, they have to remind themselves: He is still a kid.

“Boring.” That’s his favorite word for anything that doesn’t involve video gaming or math. His thin, coppery limbs are in constant motion and his voice still has a child’s pitch. When he speaks his thoughts rush out in a flurry. A reasoned flurry.

“Emotion clouds thinking and leads to bad decisions,” he declared one recent afternoon at the Staffords’ Lithonia home. Seated at the kitchen table where Michelle home schooled him for years, he and his mother were discussing what makes a person smart. Between crunches of Doritos and sips of fruit punch he refined his point.

“It’s like this, if you use an emotion to counter logic, emotion is going to lose. Now some people go on a hunch and it benefits them, occasionally. But if you can think logically, do.”

Michelle stirred a simmering pot of stew, its aroma filling the spacious kitchen. She shook her head.

“Stephen, Stephen, come on now, son,” she said. “You don’t think emotions are important?”

“Emotion clouds thinking and leads to bad decisions,” Stephen repeated.

Michelle pushed her salt-and-pepper hair back from her forehead. “He gets this from his father,” she said.

When Stephen shares his story with others, he delivers it much this way: straightforward, in black and white. The picture his parents paint is rendered in shades of gray.