Gifted journey
Well, I have so far failed to post any photographs as promised. I will try to get around to it this week, but please in the meantime, accept this lengthy personal exposition instead.
My daughter J, a fifth-grader, is apparently a gifted child. This is something that every parent wants to hear I suppose, at least when the word is used to define someone who has special talent or intelligence (for "gifted" is also used as a euphemism for people, children particularly, who are deficient in some way). For better or for worse, I am, somewhat grudgingly, accepting this label with which my daughter has been tagged.
I suppose I shouldn't complain, since it was I who got this gifted ball rolling in the first place. Well, actually, I suppose it begins with her Grade 2 teacher, who brought the local school board's summer gifted program to our attention in that year, thinking that it would be a good option for J. Her instincts were correct, and J has attended this program every year since.
What I didn't know at the time was that the summer gifted program is only part of the larger spectrum of programs that is available to children who are deemed, by virtue of a few standardized tests, observation by a few school officials, and some lobbying by a family, to be a bit smarter than their peers, or at least to be at risk of becoming bored of the regular curriculum offerings.
Last December, when J started complaining about being bored in class, and also began having some serious homework anxiety, it felt like the beginning of an alarming repeat of her Grade 3 year. We'd avoided it in Grade 4, because J was placed with a teacher who is one of those special, once-in-a-lifetime teachers who kids are lucky to get. This year we thought we'd be lucky again, and while it hasn't been awful as we know it can be, it hasn't been that great. By chance, I happened into a casual conversation with a co-worker, who has a daughter similar to mine, and she mentioned that the public schools have programs for gifted kids. Why this never occurred to me, research maniac that I am, I don't know, but I immediately checked into it. And lo and behold, alternatives do exist.
Conversations with school administrators, with my daughter and other members of our family support team followed. We decided to go ahead with the testing, which seemed pretty non-invasive, and see whether she is actually gifted as the school board defines the word. When we discovered she is, that oepned up several more doors. She attended a 4-day workshop, and has entered a mentorship program in which she gets intensive, one-on-one attention to work on a writing project, which is her special area of giftedness. These are essentially extracurricular experiences though, and not really a solution to the growing problem of boredom and frustration.
Last week, J attended a 2-day class that is a preview of a special class, a "nerd" class, if you will, that is available at a selection of schools throughout the district. Not, unfortunately, our school, but one nearby enough to make it work. Before she attended, J was pretty sure she wasn't interested in changing schools, despite the fact that she usually feels like a fish out of water, frustrated and irritated with the demands of her peers. She's not an introverted brainiac: she's almost hyper-social, has lots of leadership capability and energy for lots of things. But she doesn't have a really special group of friends at her school.
After attending the preview class, she got really excited about the possibility of entering this special class. She's not shy and has lots of confidence that she can make friends and fit in. And she's interested in the different teaching and learning styles that are available in these classes, the project-based learning, the integrated curriculum, and most of all, the feeling not of being the smartest kid in class, but just being one of many smart kids. Now, we're waiting to see whether she will be offered one of the coveted spots, for this is a program that is in demand, and not everyone will get in.
We're both nervous about either outcome: getting in means leaving our comfort zone, which we have spent 6 years building up, and not getting in means working with a system that is increasingly failing to offer us a way for J to meet her potential.
Cross your fingers!
My daughter J, a fifth-grader, is apparently a gifted child. This is something that every parent wants to hear I suppose, at least when the word is used to define someone who has special talent or intelligence (for "gifted" is also used as a euphemism for people, children particularly, who are deficient in some way). For better or for worse, I am, somewhat grudgingly, accepting this label with which my daughter has been tagged.
I suppose I shouldn't complain, since it was I who got this gifted ball rolling in the first place. Well, actually, I suppose it begins with her Grade 2 teacher, who brought the local school board's summer gifted program to our attention in that year, thinking that it would be a good option for J. Her instincts were correct, and J has attended this program every year since.
What I didn't know at the time was that the summer gifted program is only part of the larger spectrum of programs that is available to children who are deemed, by virtue of a few standardized tests, observation by a few school officials, and some lobbying by a family, to be a bit smarter than their peers, or at least to be at risk of becoming bored of the regular curriculum offerings.
Last December, when J started complaining about being bored in class, and also began having some serious homework anxiety, it felt like the beginning of an alarming repeat of her Grade 3 year. We'd avoided it in Grade 4, because J was placed with a teacher who is one of those special, once-in-a-lifetime teachers who kids are lucky to get. This year we thought we'd be lucky again, and while it hasn't been awful as we know it can be, it hasn't been that great. By chance, I happened into a casual conversation with a co-worker, who has a daughter similar to mine, and she mentioned that the public schools have programs for gifted kids. Why this never occurred to me, research maniac that I am, I don't know, but I immediately checked into it. And lo and behold, alternatives do exist.
Conversations with school administrators, with my daughter and other members of our family support team followed. We decided to go ahead with the testing, which seemed pretty non-invasive, and see whether she is actually gifted as the school board defines the word. When we discovered she is, that oepned up several more doors. She attended a 4-day workshop, and has entered a mentorship program in which she gets intensive, one-on-one attention to work on a writing project, which is her special area of giftedness. These are essentially extracurricular experiences though, and not really a solution to the growing problem of boredom and frustration.
Last week, J attended a 2-day class that is a preview of a special class, a "nerd" class, if you will, that is available at a selection of schools throughout the district. Not, unfortunately, our school, but one nearby enough to make it work. Before she attended, J was pretty sure she wasn't interested in changing schools, despite the fact that she usually feels like a fish out of water, frustrated and irritated with the demands of her peers. She's not an introverted brainiac: she's almost hyper-social, has lots of leadership capability and energy for lots of things. But she doesn't have a really special group of friends at her school.
After attending the preview class, she got really excited about the possibility of entering this special class. She's not shy and has lots of confidence that she can make friends and fit in. And she's interested in the different teaching and learning styles that are available in these classes, the project-based learning, the integrated curriculum, and most of all, the feeling not of being the smartest kid in class, but just being one of many smart kids. Now, we're waiting to see whether she will be offered one of the coveted spots, for this is a program that is in demand, and not everyone will get in.
We're both nervous about either outcome: getting in means leaving our comfort zone, which we have spent 6 years building up, and not getting in means working with a system that is increasingly failing to offer us a way for J to meet her potential.
Cross your fingers!
posted by infobabe | 11:23 a.m.
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