He’s Gifted. Really.
My kid is gifted. It took me a very long time to say those words out loud because it always sounded pretentious as hell. I knew he was bright. Hell, he walked at seven and half months, skipped baby talk and spoke in complete sentences from the time he was a year old, asked me spell everything from about age two, and by age three, had started taking apart toys to see how they operated. Yeah, he’s a smart guy, and we are proud as peacocks that he’s entering into PhD studies at Stanford this fall. But the day we found out that he could legitimately be labeled as “gifted,” something happened to keep it all in perspective.
Back in the mid 1980s, when Son started elementary school, our large metropolitan school district tested all the first graders. I’m not sure what the name of the test was, but his teacher referred to it as an “IQ test.” She administered it one early fall day and got the results back a couple of weeks later. On a Friday evening, she called our home just as we were preparing our last cookout of the season. Husband, my dad and stepmom, Son, and I were out on the patio picnicking in the cool fall air, when the phone rang. Mrs. Smith’s voice edged right to excitement when I picked up.
“Hello? This is Carol Smith, Son’s teacher.” We exchanged the cordialities, but I could tell she had something big on her mind. Finally, she said, “I had to call you to give you the news. Son scored higher on the IQ test than any student I’ve ever had.” She gave me the numbers, explained what they meant, and then continued breathlessly, “That’s beyond genius level. Your son is a genius!”
I’ll admit it; I was beaming when I hung up and headed out the back door to share the news with his dad and grandparents. Six-year-old Son had wandered out into the yard by then. He was casually tossing a golf ball from hand to hand. That summer he’d indicated that he might like to play golf, so we’d bought him some kid-sized used clubs, and Husband had taken him along to the driving range now and again. His interest hadn’t stuck, but he liked putting in the backyard.
“Son’s a genius!” I couldn’t keep the swell of pride out of my voice. “That was Mrs. Smith with his IQ scores. He’s a genius!”
Now, I’d just gotten the words out of my mouth. The others hadn’t even had an opportunity to respond. Son’s a genius was still floating in the air above our heads when we all naturally looked over at the kid. He’d tossed the golf ball with all his little might straight into the air and was watching it come back down to earth. Standing there, his sweet face turned toward the blue October sky, he followed the ball’s progress… right into his left eye. We absolutely could not believe he’d allowed the ball to hit him directly in the eye.
Mouths agape, we sat in stunned silence as Son covered his eye and began to howl. The screams of pain finally motivated Husband to rush out to the yard where he peeled Son’s hand away from his face and discovered the beginnings of a real shiner.
“What were you thinking?” Husband asked, once we’d sat the kid down and applied an ice pack to the injured eye.
“I just wanted to see how big it would get,” Son replied, sniffling, tears still dribbling down his cheeks. “It was getting bigger.”
Yep, there’s nothing to say to that. Perhaps somewhere in this story is a brilliant observation about my kid’s perceptions of geometry or physics or some other highbrow science at the tender age of six. Maybe a savvy child psychologist would tell us that his curiosity about the golf ball’s trajectory was another sign of how truly bright he is. We’ve had many more signs of his abilities in the ensuing years—top ten in high school, scholarships and numerous awards for academic excellence during undergrad, graduating number one in his class from engineering school, and then again with honors when he got his Masters Degree. But in this case, I think his grandfather summed it all up pretty nicely when he remarked dryly, “Yup. My grandson… the genius.” And he shook his head sadly as he gazed at that freckle-faced little genius’s black eye.
How about it, Betty moms (or aunties or grandmas or friends)? Tell me a fun kid story, something a child has said or done that was particularly memorable.
This is such a great story.
Minion No.1 is not an out and out genius, but his oral/reading abilities take him into the stratosphere, apparently. Ahem, everything else, not so much, and he has ADHD so spends a lot of time wrestling to remain focused.
When he was 5, he started school and was soon reading very competently, particularly the dinosaur books…he knew all the ages of the earth, all about the fossil record, could track evolutionary developments and understood the difference between Gigonotosaurus and Argentinosaurus etc etc.
I had got a job at a private school in the UK with a strong christian ethos. While my family is pretty irreligious, I’d wanted to keep his options open for him, so he was baptized, and he had been several times to church, not just at Easter and Christmas, but during the year and getting to know the religious calendar and stuff.
Then the School Chaplain came up to me in the staffroom one day in November and said, “I’ve just been teaching your son’s class”. And I looked at him and said, ‘yes…?’
“He’s got some very sophisticated ideas for a five year old.’
“yes?”
“Mmmm, he asked me about Jesus and the Trinity worked. And then he said “I’m afraid I think religion is a lot of mumbo-jumbo. Because of evolution, you know”. ”
“What did you say?” I asked the Chaplain (who was super-bright and super-sensitive)
“I just said that in some people’s view evolution and religion are compatible, and he should give it some time to let his faith evolve.”
which was very wise and decent, but 9 years down the line, signs of a lot of evolving, but not faith….
I love this Nan. It reminds us that kids, genius or not, start from the beginning and learn from experience. I’m seeing a kindergartner this year whose intellect must be off the charts (not yet tested). He turned five in June and came into school reading at a third-grade level. He too is curious about all things and often learns the hard way.
Personally I have five who would not be called genius by anyone’s standards until they are in their zone. Each guy has a gift and pursues it relentlessly. By the way, my number three just returned from Stanford last week after receiving training for an optogenetics project he is developing. He was very impressed by the staff there. Your son must be very excited.
Okay, my poor foggy brain is struggling to come up with a good story after just a few sips of coffee so I’ll relate the only anecdote that comes easily to mind. When my twins were in fifth grade, they were tasked with learning the Constitution and the Amendments to it. The guys are bright, but their position on the autism spectrum limits their ability to process abstract language so I wasn’t shocked when their teacher caught up with me in the hall and wanted to share their latest foible. The teacher had assigned a worksheet, which asked the students to draw pictures explaining the first ten amendments. He stopped by Twin 2′s desk and asked him about his picture. A frustrated Twin 2 looked up and said he wasn’t good at drawing people. Mr. H asked what he was trying to draw. Twin 2 replied that this was a man rolling up his sleeve. Yes, of course, he was ‘bearing arms’.
I LOVE these stories! My nephew is the absolute cutest boy in the entire world. I dare any of you to argue with me on that. When he was potty training, my sister had him in Pull-ups. Once, she ran out and figured she would put him in big boy underwear just long enough to run to the store and get some. In the middle of the store, at the top of his adorable little lungs, he announced, “Mommy! I pooped!” My sister wanted to die of embarrassment, I die laughing every time I think about it.
Hilarious! Sprout says or does something every day that I find indicative of stellar intellect. One mother’s precious is another mother’s annoying though. What strikes me about your story is how kids have some instinct to make their mommies look like idiots or liars. It’s like your son was trying to prove you wrong. I texted hubby once that Sprout had just put together an entire 24-piece puzzle all by himself. Hubby of course declared our boy a genius. My next text, five minutes later, announced that our boy genius had just pooped his pants. Such is motherhood I guess.
I’m sure my mother would have lots of stories to share. So, I’m not going to ask her.
I am going to forward the link.
You know, in a wedding, that solemn silence before the bride walks in? You know how small children like to experiment with echoes? My littlest sister was about 5, when she started singing Old McDonald Had a Farm during my cousin’s wedding. She was tentative at first, like she trying out the accoustics. “Duck. Here. Duck. There.” But then came “EEE III EEE IIII OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!” My sister the wall-flower.
I was the precocious first child. When my little brother (who’s totally gifted, too, by the way) came along, my mom thought he was developing slowly. She’s never let me live that down. Or the fact that I very clearly and correctly told a pregnant lady in the grocery store line how the “baby got in there.” I was three.
I never felt gifted, though, because I struggle so much with math. I figured that if I was gifted, math would be just as easy for me as all the reading and writing stuff was. It wasn’t until a recent class at college that I finally started to accept it.
While discussing the development of gifted children, my professor said that a point needed to be made. “Gifted children are often supremely talented in one or two areas, while being comparatively normal or even suffering in other areas. Across the board talent is rare.” Apparently studies have shown this time and again, yet all the gifted schools and classes I attended treated the students as though they should be universally gifted, which I wasn’t. Years of private shame fell away in that moment, and I no longer felt like a fraud.
Oh, and one last toddler tale – A friend’s 3-year-old cousin stood up at the family Thanksgiving table, dropped trou, and loudly cried, “Look, it gets bigger when you poke it!”
Er…I suppose I should specify that it was a friend’s 3-year-old MALE cousin. That kind of makes the story.
My Lilo has been tested and is a certified genius … who got a toy egg stuck in her mouth when she crammed it in but couldn’t figure out how to remove it. We are so proud.
Stitch appears to be quite the smarty as well, but she pooped in the sink and offered the explanation that she had done it because she had lost her mind. Turns out she didn’t want to mess up the freshly scrubbed toilet. Oh. Okay.
The baby Spock is 19 months old and knows the alphabet, but constantly whacks herself in the head with her toys due to the “enthusiasm” with which she picks things up. We go cold at the thought of her playing sports.
Sweet Babou and I both tested as genius in school. He wore black pants to clean a tub out with bleach. Enough said. I called him at work because my computer was broken, and he came home to explain to me how to “switch user” so “my” stuff would come up. Huh. Who knew?
Genius. I am not sure it means what they think it means.
I can see I’ll have to keep coming back to this page to read more stories! I can only claim to have a cat genius, at last. She can open almost anything: cereal boxes, tubes, she can untie bags, eat through insulated bags, and now tupperware (drops it on the floor so it pops open). Some things I think she opens just for kicks, cause when she cracked open a bag of flour she just calmly watched as my other cat ate it. And then there’s the chip bag–if she can’t nose her way into the side you’re eating from, she just bite the other end and create her own opening.
She can’t always open a semi-closed door, though. Which every other cat on the planet can do. I’ll let her know that Sierra says that’s okay.
It was suggested when my daughter was in pre-kinder that she be tested. In the reading hour the teacher would hand her the book, and my daughter would read to the class. They did Stanford Binet testing and she scored high. You had to have an IQ greater than 146 to even get into the private school for the highly gifted. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Did I want to label my daughter? Did it matter? Their father was a surgeon, book smart, with a memory that was unbelievable, and not a lick of common sense.
It took some persuading, but I finally relented, and two years later son followed in his sister’s footsteps. Their particular gift was mathematics, and they both scored really high on reasoning skills. They both had ADHD. Raising those kids was difficult for me. I was a from a country town, one of seven kids who grew up poor as a churchmouse, public school education, math was something I never did grasp (well, just enough to keep the checkbook straight)and I was dealing with young kids who could run rings around me in their thinking.
Thank goodness they turned out okay, although I think that labelling is in some ways a disservice. Or it sets up false expectations or something. I never told them their IQ levels until they were adults. The daughter scored one point higher than the son and she often tells her brother, “Yeah, but I’m the smart one.” : )
Dearest Cuzzie Nan ♥ , I just LOVE your “My Kid is Gifted” story. You truly are gifted yourself, as your writing gives testament.
I have been giving some thought to responding to this, and you might think having six darlings ♥ of my own, something epic would come to this old mind of mine, but I am finding myself drawing a blank at this moment. My Sisters ♥ , when they read that, will be appalled at this admission that is for sure. I believe they must have witnessed many things through the years that could be commented on here. So Sisters of mine, if you do remember what my mind can’t put together at this moment, feel free to jot down a story or two. (There being a challenge ~ lol)
Well, My dearest Cousin Nancy ♥ , I will leave you now with this, if I may. I am loving reading and learning all about my cousin, et al, and missing you so very much. When my mind lets me, I will come back and share my stories. Until then Nancy ♥… xoxox me
Cute stories. My kids and my gkids are smart but not necessarily book smart. My kids both quit school before getting a high school diploma. But then they got their GED’s. One has a masters degree and the other is in her last semester to get her bachelors degree.
The one with the masters is the mother of my gkids. She homeschools them. I help her. My gdaughter drew a perfect flower on a grain of rice at 6yo. My gson follows in the footsteps of his hero, Dav Pilkey, creating graphic novels with superheros like SuperEddie modeled after their dog, Eddie and villians like Psycho Bob modeled after Bob.
All my kids & gkids can draw and make anything they want. My son-in-law has certainly contributed to his kids genetic makeup, as well. He was the kid who took the vacuum cleaner apart and put it back together when he was 7yo.
As a boring person who is a book learner, I struggle to keep up with them.
http://www.noveltruths.blogspot.com/
Alastair – why does my comment keep vanishing?
LOVING these stories, guys! What a great Friday topic.
Loving the timing in that story, Nan! My son’s Asperger’s made him one of those puzzles they call twice exceptional. Gifted in some areas, he needed lots of support in others. Trying to figure it all out was tricky in those early school years. I remember very clearly an early struggle to get him to complete the homework his 1st grade teacher had assigned. He turned to me finally and with such world-weary resignation (as if imparting something I may not have realized) said, “Mom, if I finish this Mrs. C is only going to give me more.”
A teacher friend likes to tell stories about why it’s important to talk to kids while doing those IQ tests. She was giving one to students one year that involved testing their understanding of conservation of mass. She would roll a piece of clay out on a table, then into a ball, and would ask them if the ball of clay contained as much clay as when it was rolled out. The correct answer was supposed to be “yes.”
One boy replied, “No.” She took a moment to ask him why he thought that.
“Because there are molecules still stuck to the table.”
I really can’t argue with that.
Oh, well, I don’t think any of us are geniuses around here but I have plenty of good stories anyway. When MadMax was toddler-ish, everytime we would drive by dh’s office, I’d say in my singsong-mommy voice, “There’s Daddy’s office! Wave at Daddy’s office!” You couldn’t really see it from the main road, but you could see the enormous water tower that is located behind it. One time we were driving through some small town on vacation and MadMax sang out from his car seat, “There’s Daddy’s office!” It took us several seconds to figure out that the town’s water tower was what had triggered this. You gotta love a toddler who thinks his dad works in a water tower.
great topic, Nan. happy weekend, everybody!
Great to read this. And valid point about high scores in specific areas. If only everyone knew that. It would help parents and teachers deal better with academic expectations.
Everyone’s stories are wonderful. Today the kid came home frustrated by a “trick” question her math teacher had given her about how much dirt there was in a hole that was 8 by 9 by 4. The answer was of course none. She shook her head with annoyance and said, “No one told me the hole was in gravel and not dirt.” I said, “That’s not why there’s no dirt in the hole. There’s no dirt in the hole because it’s a hole.” She shook her head and said, “Then it was really stupid of her to ask how much dirt there was, wasn’t it?”
I’m pretty sure her father pulled something trying not to laugh.
Whenever I do something profoundly stupid and/or lacking any kind of sense(which is quite often) my father shakes his head and, if we’re in public, will turn to the person next to him and say “She’s a nuclear physicist.” and the other person will laugh with him.
If I got upset at my lapses in judgment and crazy mishaps, I would be upset all of time. Instead, I try and embrace them.
The best example in recent years: The Fourth of July Marshmallow Incident of 2010. What happened? Well, it’s pretty simple actually. I was roasting marshmallows at my friend’s house in a fire pit in their back yard when my marshmallow caught on fire. I don’t like the blackened burned bits, so I quickly tried to blow out the flames. But I missed. And smashed a burning marshmallow into my face.
I was fine. After weeks of generously applying aloe and neosporin, the burns went away with no real scaring.
So of course, I constantly tell the story. Because it is just too ridiculous to keep to myself.
Great post Dragonfly Betty! And I love these stories too.
Number One kid, super smart son, brilliant scholar, winner of many academic awards, tremendously bright… one week, when he was in middle school, I asked him why he kept giving that orange a ride back and forth every day, never eating it for lunch. He, of the scary smart brain inherited from his father, held the pristine citrus fruit out on the palm of his hand, and said, “I can’t open it.”
Yep, we have a genius too. (Although, most people blame me for this issue, being a sMother, I did kinda spoil him, and yes, peel his food for many years.
)
@Sierra – as the mother of 3 sons, I appreciated your story.
One of my favorite stories involves my youngest son. When he was a preschooler we went to the grocery store. I was looking for the “perfect” crackers to go with a cheese ball we were serving at a family gathering. As I walked up and down the aisle debating the merits of Triscuits vs. Townhouse, he knelt down, put his hands together and said, “Please God let mom make up her mind so we can go home.” I grabbed the Townhouse crackers and headed to the check out lane.
Oh! I just thought of another good one!
After living in the same dorm room for a year and a half, I went over to my closet one day, noticed a string hanging down from the ceiling, thought “I wonder what the heck this is for?,” pulled it, and found myself amazed that there was a light in my closet. Then I suddenly remembered finding the string the very first day I had moved in and thinking how cool it was that my closet had a light (I had never had one before, it was exciting at the time). And then I remembered all of the times I had thought “My roommate’s closet has a light, I wonder why mine doesn’t?” but forgot about it before actually bothering to look for one.
Mad observation skillz. Not things that I possess.
Ok, I’m done now. I promise.
haven’t had time to read comments, but must sleep (so that I can wake up as a shiny 29 year old!).
My niece couldn’t make the ‘f’ sound, then a couple of nights before her fourth birthday she said, “I’m turning Four on Friday.” When we all stared at her she said (as coyly as only an almost-four year old can), “Oh, I’ve been forgetting to make my ‘f’ sounds.” I still think she must have been practicing every night just for that sweet, sweet moment.
I loved this story! No good ones of my own, but I loved everybody else’s.
I was one of those kids that tested into the gifted program. I don’t at the moment remember any of my more genius moments, but I know they were there because I remember mom telling the same story for most of them, to explain how very smart people sometimes do very not smart things. Apparently mom had a roommate once who was brilliant, but constantly came back to their place and would put the groceries, in their paper bag, on the stove. The stove that had a pilot light. That would set the bags on fire. Yeah. I’m sure I did some odd things to get the smart doesn’t mean you have common sense story so often.
Oh, and I still can’t usually figure out how to peel an orange. I usually just eat them like grapefruits.
What fun tales, Betties! Thanks for sharing your stories!!
“Then it was really stupid of her to ask how much dirt there was, wasn’t it?” – Yes!! Finally someone says it!! lol
LOL the water tower story.
And the closet string!! Bahhh haaaa! You’re beautiful.
Oh that is a fantastic story!
As a gifted kid myself (scored high on the Stanford-Binet which is probably what Genius Son took in the80s as well), I did some remarkably boneheaded things in my time but my fave kiddo story is my cousin’s.
She was an only, a late life baby who had only to point or grunt at an object to be given it. Consequently, she was rather unmotivated to speak. At a little over a year old, they were starting to despair of her utter wordlessness. Shrieks and howls and hoots were all she needed to get what she wanted.
Then my aunt slammed her own thumb with the hammer while hanging a picture one day and my cousin’s first word came of it…by the time daddy got home she was singsonging SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT! at the top of her teeny voice.
The Munchkin went through a stage of sleeping badly, and I’d be in the living room most mornings at 2am. She was at the animal noises stage. One night I had the TV on trying to bore her to sleep when Sex & the City came on. During the show Samantha and her man of the moment were having sex, when my 10 month old looked at me and woofed. Last time she watched SATC!!
When I was little (5, I guess), I had good reading skills and they tested me for the gifted program. I have vague memories of it, mostly being asked to read and define words until they got so difficult I couldn’t any more.
In some surprise, because I had apparently done pretty well, they asked me who taught me to read. “Oh, my brother and sister,” I answered.
“How old were they?” the school guidance counselor asked, thinking they must be older and knowing they weren’t students at the grade school.
“1 and 3,” I answered. She must have thought I was the slow one in the family!
They “taught” me to read because I used to read TO them. Though all of us were/are bright, they weren’t quite that good.