Ask the Question

As Published in Mindscape Magazine, the official magazine of the Queensland Association of Gifted and Talented Children, Feb 2013

"Thanks, but my life and theirs would be easier if they weren't gifted," I said to a well-meaning professional who felt the need to congratulate me on having gifted kids. This goes down exactly as poorly as you might imagine, but it's true, and I’m outspoken, so I say it anyway to educate people who tend toward awe or envy when pity is what would be most welcome. In case you are still in denial, let me be frank-- being the parent of a gifted child, or gifted children, if you lucky enough to have more than one, is extremely hard! There is no quick fix; there are very few knowledgeable experts to advise us. Parenting gifted kids requires sustained effort over time, lots of time, about two decades of time. Don’t get me wrong--I enjoy my kids; I want what is best for them. I love them, and that very love often makes being responsible for decisions that direct the course of their lives heavy. It seems many of my friends with gifted kids feel the same stress over how their choices will affect their kids now and in the future.

In order to lighten that grave sense of responsibility that hangs over my mind, I do occasionally fantasise about how I might make my three girls less gifted. Perhaps I could place them in front of the t.v. for all their waking hours, or cease the practice of conversing with them altogether? Maybe I should burn all our hundreds of books, and throw the microscope and watercolours in the bin? I've even toyed with the idea of feeding them an entire diet solely consisting of junk food and devoid of vegetables ( perhaps on lead plates?) in hopes that just one of my girls might become more "normal.” You see, "normal" would make my life and theirs incredibly and immeasurably easier. But alas! These are just the fantasies of a mother who can't do any of these things because of one nagging question, one that pops up at home, in the library, in meetings with teachers and administrators. It is such an inconvenient question, really, but one to which parents like me must return again and again, one that, if asked frequently, clarifies our vision and directs our goals and the paths we lay for our children.


I had to ask myself this question at the commencement of last year when I confronted my own urge to duck and run, to pretend I had no need to intervene on behalf of my daughter who started prep last year. Experience with my two older girls said that the teacher would benefit from knowing that my four-and-a-half-year-old knew most of the academic subject matter that would be covered this year and that she was learning at alarming rates. Experience also said that her teacher would probably resent my bringing this knowledge to the table no matter how meekly, apologetically, and collaboratively it was presented. Experience postulated that "visual-spatial learning style" is a dirty word to many teachers, because of the modifications in curriculum and teaching style that it requires. In spite of my fears, I asked myself the question, "What is in the best interest of my child?" and made the appointment. To my great surprise and delight, my child’s teacher received my insights with grace and sincere consideration. My interview resulted in my child coming out of hiding and being given the opportunity to learn new things, even material that is not standard fare for preps.


My husband and I had to ask the question when we considered formal testing from the educational psychologist for my two older girls. Since our school didn’t see that our children had divergent learning needs, they were not willing to expend resources for testing them. We were concerned because both girls had good grades but disliked school and were losing more interest in school every year and developing perfectionism faster than they were acquiring new knowledge or critical thinking skills. Their teachers weren't concerned; in fact, one set was quite skeptical toward the idea of my daughter being gifted at all, for, at seven, my middle daughter had already assigned her intellect to deep cover and had altered her speech, grammar, and manner of presenting herself to complete her disguise. The cost of private testing for two children at the educational psychologist seemed astronomical for our one-income, public-schooling family, but there was no other way to figure out what divergent educational planning they required. In the end, "What is in the best interest of my child?" made the decision of whether or not to test privately easy. Testing consumed our vacation money and confirmed what we had suspected--both gifted. After a year and a quarter of working with their school, we finally have two official student enrichment plans in place to answer learning needs that were invisible to school and unclear to us before testing.


Sometimes asking "What is in the best interest of my child?" means letting things go, even things that are unjust. Last year, in preparation for standardised testing, one of my daughters had her spelling deficiency pointed out in front of the entire congregation of children in her grade. So far, although she is gifted by many measures, sensory processing issues confound her attempts at spelling; however, it is hard for me to imagine a context in which pointing out any child's weakness in front of a group could be acceptable. Certainly, the children with learning difficulties who are not gifted were not subjected to the public humiliation that my 2E child endured. My daughter was outraged, but not because she recognised her deficiency or because she was embarrassed. She was upset because she felt that she had been falsely accused. She thought that the adult in question "had no idea what she was talking about." I took a day to cool down and then mentioned the incident to her teacher, who calmly communicated my displeasure to the offending party for me. No apology was made to me or to my child, and no explanation has ever been given, but, as there was no harm done to my daughter's academic self-concept, answering "what is in the best interest of my child" meant dropping the issue, and avoiding the offender until I was sure that I wouldn’t lose my temper. I drank herbal tea and cycled ferociously to calm down, and then proceeded to make excuses to my daughter for someone else's “mistake” while devising divergent spelling strategies for my confident-yet-remedial speller.


"What's in the best interest of my child?" is a question with many caveats, many shades of grey. As parents, we get the privilege of weighing short-term decisions with long-term decisions, and deciding how to make the two work together for good. Determining what is most beneficial to a child sometimes means considering social issues against learning issues, or financial issues against intellectual ones. It means electing when to act and when to lay low, and often choosing the best of several poor options. It means planning when, how, and with whom to stage learning interventions, and sizing up innumerable factors to resolve how to present your person, your point of view, and your proof in such a way that your child benefits from your effort.

"What's in the best interest of my child?" often comes into direct conflict with other questions we ask ourselves, questions like, "What will my friends think of me?" or "Will my child's teacher or school classify me as a 'pushy parent?'" or "What will they think if they have never done what my child needs before?" These and other questions, both the valid and the neurotic, battle for centre stage in our decision-making process. In the end, however, whatever is in the best interest of our children has to trump what other people think of us, convention, our own aversion to or affinity for conflict, love of being right, tendency towards flying under the radar, our fears of tall poppy-hood, appreciation for vacation money, etc.

Asking the most important question first helps us prioritise decisions that affect our children by the criteria by which they will judge us in years to come (you have already experienced the piercing truth produced by those dreadful analytical skills--imagine how sharp they will be in 15 years). So, fellow intense parents of complicated gifted children, in an hour, tomorrow, or next week, when you come to the next inevitable impasse in decision-making regarding your child, ask yourself the most important question first. Ask yourself, "What is in the best interest of my child?" before you ask all the other questions and charge forward with confidence and with courage. Chances are that you already have the answers before you; perhaps they are just waiting to be prioritised by the right question.



Elissa Shaw Mizell is an architect, and the mother of three gifted girls, two of whom are also 2E.  She has recently moved to the Sunshine Coast and launched The Learning Architect, a tutoring service for gifted and 2E children and advocacy-coaching and support service for their parents.  Contact her at elissamizell@gmail.com or find her at “The Learning Architect” on Facebook.