A Gifted Child

A Gifted Child

Long before I had anything resembling the wisdom to guide him; I met and tested a young boy whose I.Q. score exceeded the top of the scale on the Stanford Binet Intelligence Test. (His IQ score was over 170.) At the time, the “Binet” was the most respected measure of intelligence in young children. I was a graduate student; yet this boy, whom we will call Andrew, remains as vivid in my mind today as any child I have worked with in my career. I have often wondered what became of Andrew — whether with his extraordinary gifts he found a comfortable niche in this world.

Here is the story of what brought him to our clinic and the questions with which we (my faculty supervisor, a seminar of faculty and advanced students) wrestled. Hopefully describing Andrew’s situation will breathe life into a series of discussions about choices facing gifted kids and their parents.

When we met, Andrew was just 5 years old. His parents brought him to the university diagnostic service at the urging of their pediatrician. That doctor was so blown away by this child’s obvious intellectual precocity that he persisted until the family reluctantly agreed to go ahead with the referral. I couldn’t yet appreciate the fact that encountering a child this brilliant was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for almost any professional. The pediatrician and my supervisor understood that. I would never again encounter Andrew’s intellectual equal.

Interestingly enough, his parents were resistant to considering him “gifted”, an unusual twist on what most of us expect from parents, even those whose kids’ gifts are less remarkable than Andrew’s. Andrew’s parents were naturalized U.S. citizens who had spent their earliest years under unspeakable conditions in their native land. Having at last achieved the chance to live safe, normal, even mundane lives in America, they were apparently determined to assimilate and blend in. They had been working and saving to move out of the city and into a homogeneous suburban community. There they and their two children could be real Americans.

In actual practice, it is rare for a psychologist to spend more than one session on diagnostic testing; but I had 5 or 6 sessions with Andrew. This was a training center. We were encouraged to take our time. Administering the Binet to a gifted child took time, because the design of this test requires beginning at the child’s age level and asking harder and harder questions until the child gets several wrong in a row. That didn’t happen until Andrew reached mostly adult levels.

After the formal testing, we played in the playroom and carried on a dialogue about everything from dinosaurs, and the library books he was reading, to school and friends. Away from purely intellectual pursuits, Andrew’s remarkable maturity had vanished. He was sillier than even the typical 5 year old, had difficulty with cooperative play, referred to his classmates’ not liking him or he them, and even with me, he was awkward, in great contrast to his poise during the formal testing. I noted that Andrew wasn’t comfortable having a two-way conversation. He made pronouncements or said nonsensical or irrelevant things. I could imagine that such behavior was not likely to endear him to his peers. His motor development also stood in sharp contrast to his intellectual performance.

I was convinced that this boy should apply to a highly respected school for the gifted, associated with a college in the city. I had no doubt that he would be accepted, and it was tuition-free for those who qualify. That, of course, would mean that the family would have to cancel or defer plans to move to the suburbs. In addition, I recommended social skill training, speech therapy for a lisp, and occupational therapy for his lagging motor development.

It seemed to me that in the public school of a homogeneous suburb, Andrew would be an oddity, likely to be teased and/or isolated. There seemed every reason to expect his parents to give up their dream to support this genius of theirs. What is more, they would very likely be facing a similar issue with their daughter before long.

But they were resolute about their plans, and I think politely resented the interference from their pediatrician and me. How could I, a sheltered, 20-something, American born woman, without children, possibly understand their family’s needs? I hope time and experience have seasoned me; I think I do understand now. I understand that each child and family’s situation is unique; and one member’s (or even two’s) extraordinary IQ scores cannot/should not determine the family’s lifestyle.

Read the whole series on gifted kids:

1. Congratulations: Your Child Is Gifted
2. Many Kinds of "Gifted"
3. Guiding a Gifted and Talented Child
4. Why Gifted Isn't Everything

April 23, 2008

A Grandmother's Dream

A Grandmother's Dream

I am just coming back to earth after a wonderful long weekend of celebrating the Bar Mitzvah of my oldest grandchild. Of course, he was remarkable, poised, and beautifully prepared. Seeing him on the Bimah in his blue blazer, rep tie and button-down collar had an air of unreality. It was just “five minutes ago” that he and I were introduced, as he was being wheeled out of the delivery room by his Dad. That night, our eyes met, the newborn’s and the new Grandma’s. It seemed to me that he looked around eagerly, a little Columbus who had just happened upon this new world. I imagined that I heard him say, “Oh, so you are the Grandma, huh? That’s cool!” or as he would put it today, “Sweet!”

The Bar Mitzvah was special because it was his, my first grandchild’s, and also because he did so beautifully. Then too, there was the icing on this delectable cake. The synagogue was peopled with family who had come from far and wide. There were crawling babies, vocal toddlers, and little cousins in party outfits. My almost 4-year-old grandson was all decked out in a striped shirt, tie and jacket; other young cousins from across the country were scrubbed for the occasion. The Bar Mitzvah boy’s 2nd-grade sister was a stunning sight in pink and white. She had prepared me in advance. “You know, Grandma, there will be lots of 7th graders (i.e., big kids) at the party.” Smiles spread across all adults’ faces as we found each other a row or two or more away, smiling eye contacts, throughout the service. What a happy day! Everyone there wanted to be there. How rare!

Then came the party, which had been so thoughtfully planned with the comfort of all in mind by my daughter. Speaking of pride, she and my son-in-law filled me with an abundance of it. They arranged the rooms so adults could sit away from the break-dancing 13 year olds and ear-piercing disc jockeys with screaming mikes. We ventured in and out of the kids’ room where hot pretzels, little pizzas, little hot dogs and big hamburgers beckoned. I had to watch my almost 4-year-old grandson doing his moves without even sending his striped tie askew. So cool, as if he always dressed this way. His baby brother watched wide-eyed, from his stroller, bouncing his approval to the relentless beat. Then back to the relative calm of the adult tables in time to greet a 6-year-old cousin excited to show his parents his prize--a 7-foot-long pretend snake. Talk turned to the challenge of getting this creature onto the plane heading back to Seattle.

At 5 PM, several who didn’t want the party to end accepted an invitation to stop by the Bar Mitzvah family’s home. After pizza and more laughs there and some hoops over the garage for the boys, the party moved to our house. We lingered a while longer. Several people said, “What a lovely day!” It was not easy to let it end.

April 15, 2008

Be a Clown, a Clever Clown

Be a Clown, a Clever Clown

I get really giddy when I discover that without realizing it, I had actually done something right — something now considered “good parenting” — back when I was in the trenches. I know you’re probably scoffing at that statement, thinking something like, “What; is she being coy? She’s the parenting expert — must have known how to do everything right with her kids (poor kids!).” Wrong. Now I am trusting you, so be gentle with me. Confession: I have no more confidence about the worthiness of my parenting than anyone else does; in fact, maybe less. So now that that is established, let’s move right along.

Here’s what brought this all on: I discovered “10 Ways to Encourage Your Child’s Sense of Humor.” Eureka! Guess what, without even having had the benefit of this suggestion, lo those many years ago (I’m Grandmom now, remember?), humor was the name of the game in my parenting style. Today, there are a few little children who call me “Grandma Silly”! No change in style after all these years. Anything I try to tell you about that is funny will probably fall flat on this two-dimensional screen, but there's no live comedy offered yet on Scholastic.com. (Be patient, though; we’re always looking and planning ahead!)

I found that kind humor had a real calming effect when one of my kids was scared. (I emphasize the word “kind”, because it is very unfunny and unproductive to be sarcastic or mocking when a child is frightened.) Anyway, here’s an example of reassuring humor: We used to watch the Saturday morning cartoon "Underdog." (Yes, I confess, I allowed an hour of Saturday cartoons, the funny kind only.) Well, one day my 4 year old found two wasps buzzing around his bedroom and called out “Mommy, there are wasps in here!” I instantly leapt, two steps at a time, a fly swatter poised in each hand, offering the pronouncement, “There’s no need to fear. Wasp Woman is here!”

Shared media experiences are very useful to draw on at moments like that (and no legal release is needed in the privacy of your home). There's an old Woody Allen movie in which the female lead is raving about some handsome, strong, perfect hero of a guy when wimpy Woody asks, “But can he do this?” while making a contorted movement that no one would ever need to do. That scene has been replayed in our family countless times when someone is waxing poetic about some other person’s great qualities or achievements (like winning a Nobel Prize).

Whether they are macho acting or not, all kids have some anxiety about doing something for the first time, maybe going away to camp or taking a big test. My daughter would approach those moments with questions that always began with “What if?) After responding to the first several such questions, I would greet the rest with, “Sorry, no more what-ifs allowed today!"

So I agree with and heartily endorse the spirit and the content of the “10 Ways…Humor” piece. Of course there is a lot more to many of those “ways” that we could talk about another time. Being playful is easy for many of us; in fact, it’s tougher to get serious. Even a warm supportive home is doable. But how do you build self-esteem? That’s a treatise in itself and a controversial one for another time. Perhaps the most urgent recommendation is #4: “Help her tune in to the needs and pleasures of others.” Yes, you do need to stay emotionally tuned in and value that skill above all. The rest, especially laughing at yourself, are noteworthy too, so take it all to heart. This is no joke!

April 8, 2008

Beware of Cyberbullying

Beware of Cyberbullying

Curiosity led me to a recent PBS documentary about contemporary adolescents' life online. The fact that most of the real people shown happened to live or work in the town to which I had recently moved was a prime source of interest. It's a quaint and very old suburban town, admired far and wide for its "best town to live in" status. Everything within view lends itself to trust. On Saturdays during fall football season, the high school marching band parades toward the field, passing right in front of our house in full regalia. At moments like that, I am taken back to the patriotic ambience of my own childhood and adolescence. They bring to mind the phrase, "What a great place to bring up kids!"

But as I discovered with considerable shock first from watching the documentary, kids today inhabit another world, where marching bands, Thanksgiving Day parades, Fourth of July picnics, low crime rates, and even school anti-bullying programs can't protect them sufficiently. That's because they have another gravely risky life--in Cyberland where anonymous bullying is rampant and (rarely) can even be deadly. The documentary reported at least one suicide of a "cyberbullying" victim. It occurred after the boy's dad had spent many weeks gently coaching the teen to be assertive and confident, at the young man's request. The child's confidence did seem to surge and the family felt good about it. Then came the unthinkable loss. The father traced the emails his son had received from a cyberbully, hoping to alert other parents, although this miscreant was only one of many.

All of this came back to me in an even more compelling form when I read Amy Barry's "Parent's Eye View" column in the March 27, 2008 issue of The Sound, one of several weeklies published along the Connecticut shore. This piece is called "Confronting The Bully That Never Goes Home" because the bully it describes "follows your kid around 24-7.” This bully "lives inside your child's computer, determined to make his or her life miserable." The author describes her own shock at discovering "how pervasive this form of harassment has become."

Much of her information was gathered at a meeting sponsored by the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), an organization that is trying to intervene. I think it is worth quoting some of the statistics she shares:

• More than 13 million children in the U.S. aged 6 to 17 are targets of cyberbullying.
• In a typical classroom of 30 students, more than half have been targets of cyberbullying.

Just as with the case of the boy mentioned above who took his own life, cyberbullying is most often anonymous, which empowers kids to say dreadful things they would never say if they thought they could be found out. It is not easy for parents to defuse the explosive quality of such cyberbullying, since they are not as comfortable as their children are at chatting, emailing, or IMing. Amy Barry recommends the ADL's free downloadable lessons on cyberbullying. I am most grateful to her for bringing this vital matter to our attention.

April 2, 2008