"The School for Gifted Potentials: Orientation," by Allis Wade

In her new book, Allis Wade delves into an area of giftedness not previously covered in children's literature: overexcitabilities.

Typically, gifted children in literature are portrayed as precocious brainiacs, striking it out on their own with little adult guidance. In The School for Gifted Potentials: Orientation, we meet Everett, who struggles to hide his giftedness under strict orders from his mother. Although Everett doesn't understand why his mother is so adamant that he act like the other children at school, while conversely making the effort to challenge his mind at home, he senses his mother's deep anxiety about his differences being discovered. In order to please his mother, Everett manages to hide his abilities for years.

Ultimately, though, he is discovered, and is sent to the School for Gifted Potentials for evaluation, which he does his best to fail.. Nevertheless, he is admitted and begins his one week orientation. No one at the school can understand his reluctance to attend, since being identified as a Gifted Potential is an honor. But, Everett's feelings are tainted by his mother's fears, so he finds himself overwhelmed with feelings of abandonment and anger, while experiencing joy at finally learning about his abilities and being able to explore his interests in an open and accelerated manner.

During the orientation, Everett, along with other new students, is introduced to Kazimierz Dabrowski's idea of overexcitabilities in the gifted. Through gently-led classes, Everett and his classmates discover which overexcitabilities they have, how these intensities are actually a benefit, and how best to manage them. Everett discovers other kids with intense feelings like his, as well as kids who experience completely different intensities.

As the story progresses, Everett begins to question his beliefs about his mother, his missing father, and the Chancellor. He also starts on his journey of self-discovery, which subsequent books promise to further explore.

The purpose of this book is to give gifted children a chance to see and better understand themselves in modern literature. They may relate to some of the overexcitabilities described, and even utilize some of the coping mechanisms. Also, gifted children may identify with the attempt to hide their abilities out of a desire to fit in. They may become more willing to accept who they are and what they're capable of becoming.

Although I enjoyed reading this book, speaking as an editor, I do wish the manuscript had been professionally edited. Typographical errors, odd formatting, and avoidable mistakes litter the text, interfering with the flow of the book. Perhaps future editions will address these issues.

Still, do not let the above comment prevent you from reading this novel. In fact, in true homeschooling style, use them as teachable moments.

The School for Gifted Potentials: Orientation is available in both print and Kindle versions.

You are so Lucky: A Truth about Giftedness

This post diverges a bit from my usual writings, but I felt it needed to be addressed. (It's my blog, and I'll whine if I want to, whine if I want to, . . . .)

As many of you know, my eldest son is gifted. Definitely highly gifted, maybe exceptionally, but I don't believe profoundly. If you are unfamiliar with the distinctions, I encourage you to read What is Highly Gifted? Exceptionally Gifted? Profoundly Gifted? And What Does It Mean? at Hoagies Gifted Education Page. My husband and I have chosen not to have our son tested for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is cost.

Personally, I believe "gifted" is an unfortunate term, as it implies that I think my son is somehow superior to other children. Better terms might be "highly intelligent" (although, some folks feel this is elitist) or "neuro-non-typical" (this takes more time to explain than it's worth). Regardless, "gifted" is the accepted term, and I'm not going to expend energy trying to change it.

How do we know our son is gifted? He started talking, clearly, at 10 months ("clock" and "light"); was reading by 3.5 years old; could add, subtract, multiply, and divide by 4.5; has a tremendous memory, with his earliest verifiable memory at six months; and on and on.

When people first meet my eldest, they quickly comment on how smart he is. He talks with adults like an adult. He understands and can explain concepts that are deep, varied, and interesting. He is confident in his knowledge, but not rude (usually) in his delivery. Adults will soon ask if he is homeschooled (yes) and then inevitably say, "You are so lucky he's smart. It must be easy."

At this point, I feel like a heel. Why? Because I don't feel lucky. My son doesn't feel lucky, either. Being so far advanced has its downsides, and these are enormous in the life of a child.

First, many, although not all, gifted children are "twice exceptional" or "2e." They may be endowed with high intelligence, but they have other issues which hamper their learning or social interactions.

For my son, his undiagnosed issue is "overexcitability," as defined by Kazimierz Dabrowski. My son is intense. Not just passionate, but intense. Like the difference between sitting in your yard on a hot summer day and standing on the surface of the sun. He intensely loves math. He intensely loves reading. He intensely loves science. He intensely loves his mom. But, he also intensely sees injustice (according to his definition at the moment). He is intensely competitive. He reacts intensely to perceived failures or shortcomings. He has intense meltdowns.

If these reactions were simply pouting or foot-stomping, he'd be all right. Instead, they're meltdowns of epic proportions: crying, screaming, hyperventilating, . . . . Usually, I can stop it before it starts, but not always. And once begun, it must run its course. As he gets older, he has more self-control, but not always. He knows that other kids don't react like this. He doesn't want to react like this. But once he's headed down that road, it's a hard slog back to calmness.

Another reason we don't feel lucky? Making friends his own age is tremendously difficult. They simply don't understand him. Now, these kids are perfectly nice kids from perfectly nice families. But, when my son starts talking about CDs as an "investment vehicle in a diversified portfolio," they're put off. Understandably, really. My son would love to connect with more kids his own age, but once he's been rebuffed, he doesn't react well. We're working on this, but teaching him linear algebra is easier, trust me.

He does have a few friends a year or two older, with whom he loves running around and playing. But, intellectually, he really feels most comfortable around older teens and adults who treat him as an equal. This can be difficult for some adults, but those who "get" him have no issue with it. We talk about how "friends" come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, and how, as he gets older, it will get simpler. He understands this, but it doesn't always make the present easier.

Please don't get me wrong. I love my son more than life itself. I wouldn't change him for all the tea in China. What I would like is for a little less judging from people when he flips. I would love for him to be able to straddle the emotional divide between childhood and adulthood with more grace. I would love for him to be at peace with himself, without all the work that we constantly need to do. I would love for him to be accepted and accept himself for the loving, intelligent, insightful, curious, funny person he is.

So, while we don't always feel so lucky about the hand our son was dealt, I feel tremendously fortunate to have such an amazing person in my life.

Article by Sarah J. Wilson