In the halcyon days of the British welfare state, even the poor had the opportunity to go to university. Anyone who had been offered a “place” could apply to the local Education Authority for support — not to cover the fees (there were none), but to meet the expenses of living. But when I took the form to my parents for the necessary signature, they hesitated. Having left school at twelve and fourteen, respectively, they wondered why I wanted “more study.” With my background in mathematics, I was already qualified for “a good job,” one beyond anything they could have imagined for themselves. I might become an accountant, even an actuary.
There's nothing Artificial about our Intelligence