Describe Giftedness in 50 Words or Less

Think it's not possible? Giftedness is such an amazingly complex set of characteristics that are put together in so many unique ways, it seems almost impossible to put together a description that takes into account the many variables and yet still manages to capture the essence of what it means to be gifted. Dr. Linda Silverman (of the Gifted Development Center in Colorado) has created such a paragraph. I've been coming back to it for several days, because it's clear that she has taken her years of experience with gifted children and adults, and has been able to describe (not define!) the key characteristics that uniquely identify gifted individuals (although I do not think her intent is to use this for identification). Here is what she says:

‎"Giftedness is not what you do or how hard you work. It is who you are. You think differently. You experience life intensely. You care about injustice. You seek meaning. You appreciate and strive for the exquisite. You are painfully sensitive. You are extremely complex. You cherish integrity. Your truth-telling has gotten you in trouble. Should 98% of the population find you odd, seek the company of those who love you just the way you are. You are not broken. You do not need to be fixed. You are utterly fascinating. Trust yourself!" ~ Dr. Linda Kreger Silverman

"Giftedness is not what you do or how hard you work." 
My kidlet is not what people in the educational realm would call a "high achiever." He simply does not care what you think of what he does - but he cares very deeply what HE thinks of what he does. He doesn't understand jumping through hoops to prove his intelligence. He simply wants to learn and live on his own terms. I fluctuate between agreeing with his assessment that there are a lot of really stupid educational requirements out there that he won't need in order to be a really great biologist and engineer; and realizing that in order to GET THERE, the easier path is college, and college requires jumping through those very same really stupid hoops. 


"You think differently."
I just caught my kidlet giggling over The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Now, I realize it's been a while since I read it - but I don't seem to remember there being too many humorous parts. But something caught in his imagination, and made him laugh. I remember far too well the many times in school when it was painfully clear that I was not thinking the way I was expected to - so I try to support that uniqueness in my child. Still not sure what he thought was funny - but I'll hear about it soon, I'm sure (see below on truthfulness). 


"You experience life intensely."
Hoo boy. Yeah. Everything is big. One of my favorite stories about my kidlet was the time I rearranged the dining room while he was at preschool. He came home and walked into the room (a room we do not use often), and said, "Mommy! You rearranged the furniture! My perfect life is RUINED!" Intense. More. Big. 


"You care about injustice." 
Leave it to my then-5 year old child to unify his combined first/second grade classroom under the banner of the "Save the Germs Club." They spent recesses by the school-yard fence, building a safehouse for all the germs their parents and teachers were so carefully telling them to wash away. When asked how he knew the germs were in there, he rolled his eyes and said, "Mommy, germs are EVERYWHERE, and they're not all bad." He studied about viruses and bacteria, and was convinced that we were destroying all the good guys in the efforts to get rid of the bad guys. "It's just not FAIR!" 


"You seek meaning." 
Yeah, the meaning the kidlet seeks in his immature 12yo mind isn't exactly the kind of meaning the rest of us think about when we go searching for it. But it is there. I see it when he says that if he had only one day to live, he would spend it by writing down all of his creations (which are mostly military vehicles at this point in his life) and would email them over to Boeing, "to keep them out of the hands of our enemies." In his own way, he wants be part of making a better tomorrow for his world. 


"You appreciate and strive for the exquisite." 
This one is harder to find in my kidlet, but only because his definition of "exquisite" is so vastly different than mine. He would describe the process of photosynthesis as "exquisite." He finds beauty in the molecular structure of titanium ("it's so STRONG! But I want to create a substance that is even stronger!"). He sees patterns where others see only chaos. Traditional beauty means nothing to him - he sees beauty in symmetry, in form, in function. And he designs all of his creations to live up to those standards.


"You are painfully sensitive." 
I'm going to leave this one (mostly) alone for now, but with a warning when dealing with gifted people - a careless word or action can crush the spirit. It's only now that we are homeschooling that we can see our happy kid begin to creep out from the hard shell of anger and frustration that had become his demeanor since starting school. Like a turtle tentatively slipping the tip of his nose out from his shell, that happy kid is coming back. But it's a long, slow process. 


"You are extremely complex." 
Yeah - don't even go there. People think they can throw around a few labels and define the kidlet. But he will defy that definition every time. He is more than a brain, more than a set of behaviors, more than a sweet boy who loves to give and get hugs. He is a complex human being - a whole person. And he won't let you forget it. 


"You cherish integrity. Your truth-telling has gotten you in trouble."
I laughed out loud when I read this part. My kidlet regularly tells me when he's done something he knows he's not supposed to. My sister laughed over the holidays when she overheard this conversation,

Me: "We are going out, you can play your computer game while we're gone, even though you've used up all of your screen time already today." Kidlet: "Yay!... Um, to be honest, Mommy - I would have played my computer game anyway." 

My sister listened carefully to see how I would respond (I sighed and said, "I know, but thanks for being honest" and gave him a hug before we left). I always know when I get that "to be honest..." phrase that he is going to tell me something that I don't want to hear. But I'm glad he tells me. This is why I trust his accounts of things that happened or when he gets into trouble - he might try to paint himself in a better light, but he always tells the truth. Even when he's trying to get away with something, he ends up telling the truth and much of the time suffering for it. (This is also a maturing issue that we are working on - because he absolutely cannot stand it when an someone is explaining something wrong, so he will correct them. This doesn't go over well with many adults.) 


It is my hope that, as my kidlet grows older, he will seek out and find those people who don't think there is something "wrong" with him. People who accept him for who he is, even if they don't understand it. I pray daily that he will grow to trust himself, and accept who he is despite the many people who misunderstand, who want to label, who want to find a "fix" for him. He doesn't need fixing. He needs understanding. 


Thank you, Dr. Silverman, for 50 beautiful words. 

A Vigorous Mind

“ A mind too vigorous and active, serves only to consume the body to which it is joined. ”

— Oliver Goldsmith

I don't know that there has ever been a quote that better encapsulates my child than this one by Oliver Goldsmith. It so well describes the mind-body connection to activity (Dabrowski's intellectual and psycho-motor over-excitabilities). 


We discovered throughout the kidlet's school years how desperately this child needs to learn. When he was getting ready for kindergarten, I kept telling him how fun it is to learn, and how school is a great place to learn all sorts of things. His face would light up and he would ask all sorts of questions about school with such enthusiasm and excitement that I was thrilled that he seemed to already love school as much as I always did.


The first day of kindergarten was amazing - we waited anxiously for the kindergarten bus to come pick him up in front of our house. We took pictures, and video, and we told stories about school. He wore a red-and-black striped shirt with a huge nametag pinned to it, and his new backpack that was almost larger than he was. 

The kidlet getting off the bus on the first day of kindergarten.

We loved his kindergarten teacher - she was so sweet and excited to meet her new students! He adored Mrs. Cooney, and she enjoyed him a lot. But it didn't take very long before he started balking at doing "pointless" coloring pages, and spent most of his time wandering around the classroom looking at what the other students were working on. I spent two days each week in the classroom, helping other children learn to recognize letters, read, or do simple counting (which the kidlet had already surpassed as he was already doing simple algebra and reading C.S. Lewis', The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe at home). Within about a month, I noticed that his enthusiasm had waned. 

Mrs. Cooney welcoming her students on their first day of kindergarten.

I won't belabor the rest of the story. He got into the gifted program in our district (which accelerated students one year ahead) and proceeded to get more and more disenfranchised from school. He had yet to learn anything at school by 2nd grade, despite his ability and willingess to make creative adjustments to assignments that brought a little more interest to them. I could see it in his eyes by the end of 2nd grade - his dream that school was a place where he could learn all day every day, had been smashed to bits. We switched to a private school that was set up to teach students at their own pace with one-on-one appointments with teachers. Sadly, although he did learn a few things, instead of being set free to learn, the environment only succeeded in heightening the frustration and anger he felt. One of the teachers even said to me that she didn't want to "frustrate" him, so she didn't teach him any math over the three years she taught him (her words: "he knows all of his 6th,7th, and 8th grade math, but none of his 3rd, 4th, or 5th grade math!" Note: she was his math teacher for 3rd, 4th, and 5th grades). 


The lack of learning - first in public and then in private - succeeded in exacerbating the asynchronous gap between his intellectual ability and his emotional and social ability. The frustration of not learning was expressed through movement and aggression. His body was being consumed by a mind that was too vigorous for his environment. When we visited a college course, the body stilled as the mind spun into action. 


People say to me fairly regularly that they think they can "fix" him with some stern teaching. It makes me grin and wish I could let them try (without damaging my child). The thing is - now that we are homeschooling and he is learning at his own pace, with all subjects being appropriate for his ability - not one of those people would recognize him if they sat in my kitchen during a school day. None of his former teachers would recognize him. None of the people who have made comments about his behavior, or have tried to convince me of whatever pet diagnosis they decide fits him... none of them would recognize him when he is transfixed in the world of science, engineering, or even (finally) math. 

“ A mind too vigorous and active, serves only to consume the body to which it is joined. ”

— Oliver Goldsmith

Keep the mind engaged, and the body will follow.

Giving Thanks

There are so many people who make this journey we are on easier... I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you about those who have gone out of their way to lighten my load.


First and foremost is my husband. Even though in many ways he just doesn't get parts of our child's personality (those that come from my far-more-OE side of the family), he is a stellar support and an amazing parent. He makes learning fun - especially in history, maths, economics, and sciences, where he is able to turn the most frustrating lesson into an interesting story. He somehow, "instinctively" (read: when mommy starts throwing things and/or gives him "that look" and says she's running away) knows when I need a break and takes over. And all the while, he is there to wipe away the tears, give me hugs when I need them, make me laugh when I don't even feel like smiling, and loves me despite the insanity. Oh, and in his spare time, he "brings home the bacon."

Second is my RL friends - those who challenge me to take on a new role (thanks MaryEllen, I think - the homeschooling is great for the kidlet, but I still don't like it); and those who are there to lighten my load when needed. There are too many to mention, but I'd like to especially point out my neighbors (Roxanne, Anne, Doug) who are always ready to lend a helping hand - or two tablespoons of ginger when I need to bake but can't get to the store; Twila, for the offer to take the kidlet out to lunch, and the understanding in Sunday school; Clay for the support and pressure to be better tomorrow than I am today; and Hillary and Denise for being sympathetic ears. And all of my Facebook friends and blog followers who regularly encourage me and give me reasons to smile. 


Third is the professionals who are working together to help our family move in positive directions and who provide services for the kidlet. This year I am especially thankful for the opportunity provided to us by biology professor Emilie - because it opened my eyes a great deal about the issues we are facing with the kidlet (and we so enjoy hanging out with her family!). I'm thankful for the coaches, physicians, psychologists, and therapists who are part of our weekly routine, and who provide excellent care for the kidlet. I am thankful for the opportunity to participate in the Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth , and the classes and events the kidlet can participate in to keep him engaged (he recently was asked if he liked math, and his answer was "YES!" - HOORAY!!!).

Also I would like to thank Mary St George of Gifted Online, for introducing me to the world of gifted education and all the resources that her Facebook group has opened up for me. To have such a group of individuals from around the world who are completely focused on the needs of gifted students and 2e students has been amazingly helpful and supportive. It has been so wonderful to have so many different perspectives, but yet a single focus and desire to see gifted students understood and given freedom to reach their potential. Also, I will include Deborah Mersino of Ingeniousus, and her leadership of Twitter #gtchat - what an amazing resource and so nice to find kindred spirits and tweet in real time! Thank you, thank you, thank you!


Finally, I would like to thank my FOO. My parents, John and Sherrie, for their unfailing love, support and cheerleading; my brother, John C., for his cautious but carefully thought out guidance; and my sister, Kristen, for her encouragement in the face of frustration and self-doubt. 


For those and all of you - THANK YOU! 

Another Trip to College

We took another trip to college today. Well, sorta. Our local state university has a top-ranked engineering program, and since the kidlet wants to study engineering, we thought he might enjoy a series of free engineering lectures put on by the alumni association and the engineering department. When I told him, he was excited. We haven't really studied any engineering. He's got all the sciences fairly well handled, at least on a basic level, but engineering is so far out of my personal intellectual framework that I don't feel at all confident that I can do an effective job. So the three of us - Daddy, Mommy, and Kidlet - bundled up in the car and headed out to our first engineering lecture. 


Is it safe to say, it was a success? 

DH and Kidlet listening to the lecture.

The lecture was on reducing the carbon footprint of the US military, (and it just so happens that the kidlet is currently working on creating a whole fleet of military vehicles - in his head, mind you). He was excited to see that Boeing is already working on some of his ideas. I'm imagining the "flights" of fancy he will take in the next week will involve biofuels, superconductors with flywheels, and combination fuel cells. 


In particular, it was great to have DH along to see the miraculous change that happens when the kidlet gets engaged in something. The nervous energy calms, the eyes lock in, the brain starts spinning. The same thing happened when kidlet and I went to a college biology class last spring. All the little annoying habits that made his elementary classrooms impossible for him, disappear when he is engaged in something interesting. We're working on transferring those skills to every situation, but for now it's helpful to see that it's possible. 

Halloween and OEs

Each year around this time, kids all over start thinking about candy and dreaming up ways to increase their load. The kidlet is nearing the end of his trick-or-treating days (already his friends are eschewing the idea), but this year he is still excited. If it's for the costume or the candy is unclear, but we've got 10 days to go and he's already bouncing off the walls. 


One of the challenges we face each year is making up the costume. The kidlet has never wanted to be "a firefighter" or "a crayon" - oh no no. Those might be easy. One year he was an Arcadian Beast (I didn't have a sewing machine, so the whole costume was done by hand), another year he was a Nemian Lion, another year a tank. Last year it was a pilot - but not just any pilot, one who flew a certain type of jet with a unique uniform. And this year... sigh... a "dragon insectoid" (half dragon, half dragonfly). 


In the process of creating these amazing works of imagination, we end up piecing together bits and pieces of all sorts of things. Part of the process is creating the plan, but the far more difficult piece is finding everything you need to put it together. And thus begins my story...


As is our usual process, we first travel around the costume shops to gather inspiration and see if there is anything we can use to enhance the costume. Since this year's creation requires the head of a dragon, in particular I was hoping to find something already made for that piece. I can make wings, and the dragonfly eyes I figured out - but how to make a convincing dragon head? So off we went in search of a dragon mask. 


Always before this year, I've been extremely careful about which sections of the costume store we walk through - but the dragon mask required a little deviation. The masks are usually back with the zombie costumes. So we found ourselves walking through a horror shop, with kidlet's eyes growing larger with each step. I could see it happening - overactive imagination going wild with all of that horrific new information. The clown costume with glowing eyes (think Stephen King's "It") made him stare for a good 2 minutes until I finally pulled him away (with his eyes not leaving the clown's face until we turned a corner and he couldn't see it any more). That was on top of the skeleton at the first store that was motion-activated, and started moving and laughing maniacally when the kidlet walked by - making him jump about a foot off the ground. 


Needless to say, by the end of our shopping trip (which was sadly ineffective in finding a dragon mask), the kidlet was visibly shaken. As we were getting into the car, he complained, "Why is Halloween becoming so much about bad things?!" I had to explain the origins of Halloween (All Hallows Eve and All Saints Day - well that was the version I told him anyway), and also how I've kept him out of those scary parts of the stores before. He listened intently, but I was nervous that the images he'd seen would stay with him, like so many images from the news, or movies, or anything remotely unsettling have done. Welcome to the world of super-sensitivity. He's already hyper-anxious about pretty much everything, and I'd just added some new horrors to his ever-growing list. Great job, mom. 


I remembered as a child having a horrible series of nightmares about a billboard in my town that advertised the Stephen King movie, "Carrie." Nothing could convince me that the blood that covered the front of her gown wasn't her own, from having her skin flayed from her body. In my own over-active imagination, she was dying - and the horrors that had been inflicted upon her were coming for me next. I had nightmares for weeks over that scene. (It wasn't until years later I heard the story of pig's blood being thrown on Carrie in the book/movie.) 


Seeing that look in my kidlet's eyes reminded me of those days... but fortunately the kidlet is much older than I was (4yo) and managed his fear far better than I was able to. I'm pretty sure he has had some nightmares - he hasn't said anything, but he has been extra tired and hyper-sensitive to stimuli during the days. But he will learn from this, as I did, one more step down the road of learning to manage his own over-excitabilities. 


And his costume is going to be great.