"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.

Coming July 2011: "Making the Choice" from GHF Press

Catch the New Release from GHF Press!

GHF Press is pleased to announce the new book by Corin Barsily Goodwin and Mika Gustavson, Making the Choice: When Typical School Doesn't Fit Your Atypical Child.

A guidebook for parents considering homeschooling, Making the Choice discusses how to balance the emotional and academic needs of gifted and 2e children, their parents, and their families.

In Making the Choice, Corin Barsily Goodwin, Executive Director of Gifted Homeschoolers Forum, and Mika Gustavson, MFT, demystify and de-mythify some of the perceived barriers to homeschooling. For those families wondering if this is an option they should consider, Making the Choice offers ideas, guidance, and encouragement to fully evaluate the option.

Making the Choice is first in a series by GHF Press on Perspectives in Gifted Homeschooling, designed to bring more resources and information to the world of gifted, intense, and twice-exceptional children and their parents.

Making the Choice will be available in print and e-book formats in July 2011.

Which Came First: The Speech Delay or the Creativity?

My youngest son has a speech delay, not talking until he was nearly three. Two years later, he chats all the time, but doesn't always speak clearly, especially when he's excited. He's been tested and evaluated, been in speech therapy, but no one knows why he was delayed. It's just one of those things.

An interesting aspect of his delay is that he doesn't always remember the names of newer objects, especially if the names don't correlate with how he views the objects.

For example, he came into the house today, asking me to hold the "long orange styrofoam bending tube so [he could] use it like a pipe." Do you know what he was talking about? An orange pool noodle. How did he want to use it? He wanted to place it over a hole and pour water down it.

What I find fascinating about this is the visual images he creates through his descriptions. Foods he can't name are describe by color, size, and taste ("the cheese that is orange and a big rectangle and is good for grilled cheese sandwiches"). Clothes are describes by color, design, and a personal connection ("the pants that are green on the outside and light brown on the inside and pull up and were my brother's but are mine and Nana made them"). Parks are described by the size of the sandbox, the toys he likes to use there, the location of the parking lot, and where we went after we'd visited the last time ("the one with the really big sand box and the wood chips and I make castles and we went to Peet's last time").

Of course, after a few goes, he does remember the common names (cheddar, sweatpants, and a park locals will know), but I wonder if his in depth descriptions stay connected in his brain, creating a richer view of his world. He is definitely more experimental and daring. He seems to view the potential of an object, instead of being limited by its reality.

Is this truly a side effect of his speech delay, or was his speech delay due to this complex thinking? Who knows. I don't really care. What is important is that we encourage his creative processes, because we need more people who see the greater potential in the world around them.

Despite claims to the contrary, school squelches creativity. It must, in order to deal with the number of students with all their issues placed in the care of a few adults, in order to accommodate all the testing necessary to justify salaries and spending, in order to get through what students "must know" if they are to be productive adults. While a child who looks at his desk and sees a flight console might be charming before the bell rings, once the bell rings, that child had better come back down to Earth and sit quietly at that desk and be prepared to be educated.

When you think about it, speech delays, autism, Asperger's, dyslexia, dysgraphia, ADD/ADHD, and all the other learning "differences" that get diagnosed and treated aren't new. These didn't just appear in the last 30 or 40 years. They've probably been around since humanity began. So, are they really problems, or just a function of the diversity of humanity? Have they always been problems, or are they only problematic in a strict, narrow learning environment?

After all, if you look at many of our great artists, thinkers, writers, builders, scientists, and creators in history, you will find people who may have been prime candidates for these diagnoses. Imagine if they had sat in room from the age of two or three, four to eight hours a day, five days a week, until they turned eighteen, at which point they were then informed that they must now complete another four, six, or even eight years before their ideas, thoughts, and visions would be taken seriously.

Now, some folks may think I am anti-school. I am not. I am anti-traditional-education. People, not just children, do not learn best by being told, "You are x years old, therefore, you must learn y. You are not ready to learn z, because people your age do not get taught z. And, no, q has nothing to do with c, because the textbook says it doesn't."

We need to recognize that differences aren't bad. They are simply differences. We don't all learn the same way, and that's O.K. We don't all view the world the same way, and that, too, is O.K. What a dull and static world we'd exist in if we did.

If you would like to read more about people with learning differences, please check out these books:
The Way I See It: A Personal Look at Autism and Asperger's

Thinking In Pictures: and Other Reports from My Life with Autism

The Survival Guide for Kids with LD*: *(Learning Differences)

Homeschooling the Child with ADD (or Other Special Needs): Your Complete Guide to Successfully Homeschooling the Child with Learning Differences

If They Can Do It, We Can Too!: Kids Write About Famous People Who Overcame Learning Differences Similar to Theirs

The Mislabeled Child: How Understanding Your Child's Unique Learning Style Can Open the Door to Success

Mellow Out, They Say. If I Only Could: Intensities and Sensitivities of the Young and Bright

In the Mind's Eye: Visual Thinkers, Gifted People With Dyslexia and Other Learning Difficulties, Computer Images and the Ironies of Creativity

Article by Sarah J. Wilson

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