From the Deep

I’ve had an eye-opening week. Through a couple different venues, I’ve faced anew the emotional catalyst that the concept of “gifted” can be. I’ve experienced how it affects the ways moms of gifted children move in the world and and how they interact with those around them. These experiences have raised questions for me, so don’t expect answers here! However, you may have questions and/or input of your own that I’d love to hear, so please comment if you so desire.

My first eye-opening experience happened as a result of a blog post I read by a woman in another country (in another hemisphere!) and whom I only know as Fire. She homeschools her three children, and though gifted herself and the mother of at least one (though I suspect more) gifted child, she doesn’t like the term “gifted” nor the categorization such a term divides children into. (Fire, please forgive me if I misrepresent you–please, by all means, clarify if need be.) I responded to her blog with a comment, and we’ve had a bit of a dialog about all this. Once cross-cultural differences were accounted for, we realized that we agree on many, many issues around the concept of giftedness and its impact, and recognized the potential for many similarities personally. If you’d like to read the blog itself and the comment thread, you can view it here: http://highseasadventures.blogspot.com/. Scroll to the posting entitled “Gifted,” read it, and check out the comments. (I see also, upon returning to her website to obtain the web address, that she has posted another blog post entitled “‘Gifted’ (again).” In it, Fire beautifully and vulnerably expresses her own experiences as a gifted child, her questions as to what it means as an adult, and her children’s experiences as well. I am bowled over by her story–I feel empathy because her story is much like mine. I hope she becomes a friend to this community we’re creating among moms of gifted children. She has so much to offer!)

Another experience I had this week was of listening to an Internet radio show focusing on issues close to mothers’ hearts. The two hosts had posted this query on their website: “Are You Kids Gifted and/or talented? How do you know? Email us with your comments or advice” (sic). I had sent in a response, and was looking forward to a sensitive, supportive response to the topic. What I heard was different from what I had expected, but similar to what I’ve experienced in the past both as a gifted child myself and as a mom of gifted children. The two hosts seemed to be exasperated with moms who think their kids are gifted, and stated statistics regarding the percentage of moms who think they’re kids are gifted vs. the percentage of children who actually are gifted (incredibly disparate numbers). They claimed that if your child is truly gifted, schools will naturally identify them as such and will address your gifted children’s needs (this is quite different from my experience and those of many of you; some of us have had to struggle to have our children adequately placed, and even if you switch schools, which these hosts suggested you do, it’s no simple undertaking). And if you do have gifted children, these hosts said “Don’t talk about it” and “No one wants to hear it.” The message was clearly this: if you have such brainy children, yeah, they’re great, and they must have challenges too, so go find yourself some support–but please find it elsewhere.

These experiences raised these questions for me:

1. What, if any, is the value of labeling or categorizing children as “gifted”?

2. How and to whom should we as moms of gifted children express ourselves, our challenges, and our joys?

I’m realizing that categorizing children into “not gifted” or “gifted” is painful on both sides of the aisle. The “not gifted” feel less than, and understandably so. Who would like to hear that they don’t have gifts to offer the world (which simply isn’t true–we all have gifts to give)? The “gifted” suffer from it too, though stating this is like saying “poor, little rich child.” No one has sympathy for us or our children feeling left out of social circles, bored in classrooms, or different from everyone else, except we for each other. Yet the benefit educationally is huge, in my mind. Knowing what my children need, I can find (and have found) the right fit for them academically. Socially, I’ve found a school situation in which they have friends just like them. In fact, my son has discovered facets to himself that previously he had no clue existed, and he has met people who have those same facets. He can connect with these students on so many levels. His mind and heart are broadening. If we hadn’t pursued educational testing and a different school choice, he wouldn’t have had that experience, and that indeed would have been tragic.

Yet discussing these changes has felt awkward. I’ve stepped into conversations about my children with trepidation, fearing rejection. I’m grateful for the friends I’ve found who have gifted children; they have become safe women with whom I can share my questions, doubts, anxieties, as well as my joys. They get it, and I get them.

So today I took a step I’ve been meaning to take for awhile. I created the “Moms of Gifted Children” social network through ning.com. Now we can create an online community of women facing the same ups and downs of mothering gifted kids. We can support each other through educational choices, giftedness identification, and parenting. And we can empower one another to become not only fabulous moms but complete women with our own gifts to offer the world. I invite you to join. If you’re interested, please e-mail me at info@deepwaterscoaching.com. We’d love to have you!

Every cell in my body compelled me to run away, but I didn’t. “I can’t do this, Mom! Why can’t I do this?” My eleven-year-old son had just acquired his first set of contact lenses and, now at home, was attempting to put them in his eyes. When he received them from the eye doctor, the doctor’s assistant who helped him learn the procedure declared him a natural. Of course he’s a natural. He’s a natural at everything he tries.

Except for this, apparently. Whatever magic happened at the doctor’s office, it didn’t come home with us. So day after day my son spent at least thirty minutes attempting–sometimes successfully and other times not so much–to put his contacts in. Since I, too, wear contacts, my angst-ridden son would cry out to me for help. In despair he’d ask me why he couldn’t do this. And though every cell in my body wanted to run away, I knew I needed to stay and help my son understand four things:

1. That while he’s a natural at most things, making them seem easy, not all things are simple to do;
2. That this experience was a good one for him–now he knew how others felt trying to do the same activities that come so easily to him;
3. That when he bumps up against a tough task, he can stick with it and eventually master it; and
4. That I would stick with him through it, no matter how much anger or despair he expressed.

Thank God for laptops. I sit here writing this blog post amid cooking dinner, editing my son’s English essay (an assignment the teacher failed to tell me I had), assisting my daughter with her music practice, and preparing myself and my household for my impending departure to a life coaching retreat. “Wait!” I tell myself. “I want to get a blog post out before I leave!” So out comes the laptop, after the folding of three loads of laundry, the shooing my son off to football practice, and the packing of the macaroni (six different types) we had to buy this afternoon for a history project my son will complete in class tomorrow.

The beauty of multipotentiality. We see it in many of our gifted children; they can try many different activities–academics, athletics, arts, etc.–and make them look easy. They appear to be naturals at these activities. As moms, we support these endeavors by planning for them, signing our kids up for them, and chauffuering our children to and fro. This keeps us plenty busy, and challenges us to manage our children’s multipotentiality: to help them balance all their involvements, to say no to new commitments when we see them becoming overwhelmed, and to encourage them to pursue activities in which they can blossom. It’s a huge task.

Add on top of that our own multipotentiality, and the issue multiplies exponentially. Perhaps you are one of these women: you sew quilts, scrapbook, speak for local moms groups, volunteer in your kids’ classes during math time, read voraciously, head the PTO, yada, yada, yada. Say no to any one of these activities, and you feel like you’re cutting off a limb. But saying yes to everything means spreading yourself too thin, especially because multipotentiality is a sign of giftedness (yes, admit it to yourself–you’re more than likely gifted if you’re the mother of a gifted child) as is perfectionism, which means you can’t just do something, you have to–and probably can–do it flawlessly.

So how do you master your own multipotentiality? You have a few choices, which you can mix and match to fit you and your life:

1.  Accept being a Jackie-of-All-Trades. Yes, the following phrase is “Master of None,” but with this approach, you say “Who cares?” Maybe you don’t master anything, but at least you get to taste a little of everything from the buffet of life, and you’ll probably do what you do better than many others out there. Besides, we’re the type of women who do things better and more efficiently when we have a lot of things going on, and in some ways we’re happier.
2. Choose mastery. Perhaps you’d really like to master one, two, or three skills or activities. Great! Find ways to hone those skills, and dive into them. Give yourself permission to let other things go by the wayside or to let the quality of them slide a little. At least you’ll have the satisfaction of doing a few things really well (and you’ll still probably do all those other things well too).
3. Take a seasonal perspective. Focus on some activities for now, and leave others for another time in your life. What most sings to you right now? Follow your heart, and go in that direction, knowing that the time will come when you’ll get to engage in something else. Live in the moment, enjoy what you have today, and make a list of what you’d like to do tomorrow so you can still hold those dreams alive.