That phrase is the title of an Internet posting. When I read the phrase, I cringe a little. There is so much stigma and assumed pride (and not the good kind) in that kind of phrase. I think it's the word "than" that gets me. Maybe it's an oversimplification, but why can't we just be different and have that be OK?
When it comes up that M's IQ is higher than many, some assume it means that we are saying "better than" which we absolutely are not. Ever! I know of some examples of people with high IQ who I definitely value less than some with lower IQs - this is not about the value of the individual. It is about the way they process information.
When they are talking about this, they are not calling anyone dumb or stupid in the article. This is not about degrading anyone else. Everyone has value. Everyone.
This is the section of that article that resonates with me most, however:
In her book The Gifted Adult: A Revolutionary Guide for Liberating Everyday Genius, Mary-Elaine Jacobsen writes, “To feel like an outsider, to constantly pressure yourself to hold back your gifts in order to fit in or avoid disapproval, to erroneously believe that you are overly sensitive, compulsively perfectionistic, and blindly driven, to live without knowing the basic truths about the core of your being – too often this is the life of Everyday Geniuses who have been kept in the dark about who they are and misinformed about their differences.”
I am understanding myself better as I learn about my daughter. So much of what I am reading related to her life reminds me of my own.
Steve Jobs saw his father as smart, according to the article. I think his father was. If he could figure out anything mechanical, that is an area of intelligence that some people simply don't have. If his father had it, he was smart that way. I don't know what his IQ was, but I am uncomfortable about how the article portrays the parents of gifted children.
In my experience, most parents of gifted children feel like their kids are smarter than they are. I know I do frequently. However, I think it's a dangerous place to go. It's simply not true in a literal way. Not in my opinion, at least. I think there are a lot of the aforementioned Everyday Geniuses who are unaware of their label. It does not change who they are, but it does affect how they process things and function. I meet so many families where I can clearly see the similarities, yet they say things like "I don't think of my children as gifted." (a real life example from the last couple of weeks), and I felt the same way. I simply didn't know.
As test scores go, my husband has a higher intelligence than I do. However, when it comes to mechanical things, I tend to be the more successful one in many instances. Add the gender stereotypes to this and it makes for an uncomfortable situation at times. Does that mean I'm dumb? No. Does it mean he is? No.
I was involved in a few conversations recently about how some parents who choose to stay home and/or homeschool are seen as wasted potential. It's a reality in some cases. One of the amazing women I've been getting to know better completed med school. She is at home with kids and homeschooling. I do NOT consider that wasted potential. She is investing in the future in every possible way. However, I know another woman in a similar situation who would not consider making the same decision, despite being advised that her children have a similar need by an educational psychologist. Why? I'm sure she would disagree, but quite simply, it's pride and fear. She feels she needs to use her medical degree, and is proud of her accomplishment in that area. It's tied to her self-worth. The previous example sees her choice as a valuable one and feels she is using her medical degree in the health of her children and everyday life in many ways.
I have heard some talented writers talk about reactions to their choice to homeschool as wasted potential, as well. First of all, they are still writing. They are still working. I do not work for pay at this time, but many of homeschooling parents do. They have found a way to work and homsechool in one simultaneous lifetime. I am utterly amazed but them.
Here's what I want to know overall. Why would investing time and attention into children ever be seen as less important? Isn't that our future? Why on earth would we want people who are perceived as less capable to be the only ones working with our children? Seriously, even if we bought into all these stereotypes, doesn't that rub anyone else the wrong way?
If we want them in the best schools, headed for the best careers and in the best internships, why wouldn't we want them around the best people? However you define best, this does not make sense to me. I want my kid to have the best, just as others do. I define that as what makes her happiest, so long as it also leaves her functional in life, as far as paying bills, reading mail, and staying relatively healthy. This was our goal for her before we knew her IQ. Knowing her IQ was not our plan. Now that we do, our goal for her remains the same. All the IQ test did for us was help us understand how to facilitate that goal in her life.
Wishing you the freedom to pursue happiness in whatever way that presents itself in your life, and freedom from the pressure of any expectations that inhibit happiness.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Frozen - a movie about a powerfully gifted girl
We just watched Frozen again. Tonight, I saw it in a whole different light, even though I have seen it many times. Considering an entire room full of kids of various ages started singing "Let It Go" in a swim school waiting area, I'm sure many know the story line. For those of you who don't, consider this your spoiler alert.
Elsa, the elder daughter and future queen starts the movie showing us all sorts of fun and creative ways she has learned to use her snow and ice powers to creatively play with her sister and bring them both delight. Watching gifted kids play imaginatively is so amazing, isn't it? In the area of play, every child has an area of giftedness, in my mind. The magic in my eyes is the delight in the expression of anyone playing in a way that brings them delight.
An accident happens, Anna, the beloved sister gets hurt, but in fairness, this is more due to Anna's choices than Elsa's, and throwing in the one and only time in the movie that Elsa slips on ice . . . . sorry, but I am OCD about story consistencies . . . . moving on.
The trolls heal Anna, but remove all memory of magic, just to be safe. I don't really understand the "safe" concept. Life is not safe. We can go through life trying to make it so, but it won't be. Also, why would her memory of magic be unsafe? This is never explained in the movie. They also warn Elsa that fear will be her enemy throughout her life. and that she must learn to control her power.
The parents react protectively, urging Elsa to keep it a secret, and not to feel. She adopts this mantra that is all about denying a powerful gift she has, and it is centered on fear, rather than control. In order to control something, mustn't we embrace it? If fear is the enemy, why focus on it and instill it?
When her powers are revealed just following her coronation, of course she flees in terror. So, now on to the famous earworm song that parents everywhere know . . . . "Let It Go" If you are unfamiliar with the song (or even if you are), take a moment to check out this video. It is my favorite version, and a short one.
Earlier in the song than that clip, she talks about the good girl she always has to be: "don't let them see, don't let them know. Well now they know." She then started deliberately using her powers for the first time in the movie since her sister was hurt. What she builds is beautiful and amazing, and is something that will be gracing many walls and frames for years to come, I'm sure. How? She uses a tremendous, unusual power with control.
However, she is wracked with guilt, believing she has let people down and done something wrong. It's not the truth, but the result of years of misinterpretation and good intentions gone wrong. Can anyone else think of examples of this from other characters in stories? People in the media? Family members? Criminals? Seriously, the worst criminals are really really gifted in what they do.
We aren't supposed to talk about highly gifted individuals, especially as highly biased parents. We might make someone feel bad about their child who is unique and wonderful (or difficult and challenging) in a different way. So, we raise the kids protectively, and coach them to keep their incredible talents hidden, and to look like and act like everyone else. Then, they start to believe that being different, even in very positive ways, is a bad thing.
Is that what we intend as parents? Of course not. However, they learn it nonetheless. I did. My daughter did. I know so many who did and have not yet begun to embrace their own atypicialities that make them amazing and beautiful and talented . . . even into adulthood. It's a tragedy. A tragedy for them, and a tragedy for everyone who might have been positively impacted by them.
Before we understood the ways M was unique, she felt bad about herself. She knew she was different in some ways, and she assumed that made her weird and was bad. In fact, she assumed she was failing school, which was never even close to true. None of the teachers or other school staff or family members believed that or wanted her to feel that way, but she did.
Once we got some good input, we were connected with other families with similar atypicalities and her whole world changed. She has a place where it is safe to be herself, atypicalities and all (and where I can be completely nuts and be accepted, too). Now that we have had that for a while, she is thriving. She is thriving in that group, and she is thriving in more mainstream groups, and in sports and all over the place. Are they all full of people with the same unique qualities? Of course not! It took just one place she could be safe and be herself, and all the rest of it fell into place.
I think one of the most evil things in the world is the concept that anyone is alone in anything. If you are struggling with something, or have a passion that is unusual, or an interest that your family doesn't understand, find people who do. I don't believe that any one quality can be held by only one person. Ever. You are not alone! M is not alone, and neither are her parents.
So, be inspired by Elsa, and embrace and control your specialities, whatever they may be. Also, be like Anna, who loves her sister and never becomes afraid of her, despite being hurt. People make mistakes. Noone goes through life without wounding others, just as noone goes through life without receiving wounds. Let's challenge ourselves to see this ever-present recent movie to inspire us to live as better people and interact with people around us in a better way, no matter the label - on them or you!
Wishing you warmth and love as the temperatures drop.
Elsa, the elder daughter and future queen starts the movie showing us all sorts of fun and creative ways she has learned to use her snow and ice powers to creatively play with her sister and bring them both delight. Watching gifted kids play imaginatively is so amazing, isn't it? In the area of play, every child has an area of giftedness, in my mind. The magic in my eyes is the delight in the expression of anyone playing in a way that brings them delight.
An accident happens, Anna, the beloved sister gets hurt, but in fairness, this is more due to Anna's choices than Elsa's, and throwing in the one and only time in the movie that Elsa slips on ice . . . . sorry, but I am OCD about story consistencies . . . . moving on.
The trolls heal Anna, but remove all memory of magic, just to be safe. I don't really understand the "safe" concept. Life is not safe. We can go through life trying to make it so, but it won't be. Also, why would her memory of magic be unsafe? This is never explained in the movie. They also warn Elsa that fear will be her enemy throughout her life. and that she must learn to control her power.
The parents react protectively, urging Elsa to keep it a secret, and not to feel. She adopts this mantra that is all about denying a powerful gift she has, and it is centered on fear, rather than control. In order to control something, mustn't we embrace it? If fear is the enemy, why focus on it and instill it?
When her powers are revealed just following her coronation, of course she flees in terror. So, now on to the famous earworm song that parents everywhere know . . . . "Let It Go" If you are unfamiliar with the song (or even if you are), take a moment to check out this video. It is my favorite version, and a short one.
Earlier in the song than that clip, she talks about the good girl she always has to be: "don't let them see, don't let them know. Well now they know." She then started deliberately using her powers for the first time in the movie since her sister was hurt. What she builds is beautiful and amazing, and is something that will be gracing many walls and frames for years to come, I'm sure. How? She uses a tremendous, unusual power with control.
However, she is wracked with guilt, believing she has let people down and done something wrong. It's not the truth, but the result of years of misinterpretation and good intentions gone wrong. Can anyone else think of examples of this from other characters in stories? People in the media? Family members? Criminals? Seriously, the worst criminals are really really gifted in what they do.
We aren't supposed to talk about highly gifted individuals, especially as highly biased parents. We might make someone feel bad about their child who is unique and wonderful (or difficult and challenging) in a different way. So, we raise the kids protectively, and coach them to keep their incredible talents hidden, and to look like and act like everyone else. Then, they start to believe that being different, even in very positive ways, is a bad thing.
Is that what we intend as parents? Of course not. However, they learn it nonetheless. I did. My daughter did. I know so many who did and have not yet begun to embrace their own atypicialities that make them amazing and beautiful and talented . . . even into adulthood. It's a tragedy. A tragedy for them, and a tragedy for everyone who might have been positively impacted by them.
Before we understood the ways M was unique, she felt bad about herself. She knew she was different in some ways, and she assumed that made her weird and was bad. In fact, she assumed she was failing school, which was never even close to true. None of the teachers or other school staff or family members believed that or wanted her to feel that way, but she did.
Once we got some good input, we were connected with other families with similar atypicalities and her whole world changed. She has a place where it is safe to be herself, atypicalities and all (and where I can be completely nuts and be accepted, too). Now that we have had that for a while, she is thriving. She is thriving in that group, and she is thriving in more mainstream groups, and in sports and all over the place. Are they all full of people with the same unique qualities? Of course not! It took just one place she could be safe and be herself, and all the rest of it fell into place.
I think one of the most evil things in the world is the concept that anyone is alone in anything. If you are struggling with something, or have a passion that is unusual, or an interest that your family doesn't understand, find people who do. I don't believe that any one quality can be held by only one person. Ever. You are not alone! M is not alone, and neither are her parents.
So, be inspired by Elsa, and embrace and control your specialities, whatever they may be. Also, be like Anna, who loves her sister and never becomes afraid of her, despite being hurt. People make mistakes. Noone goes through life without wounding others, just as noone goes through life without receiving wounds. Let's challenge ourselves to see this ever-present recent movie to inspire us to live as better people and interact with people around us in a better way, no matter the label - on them or you!
Wishing you warmth and love as the temperatures drop.
Handling changes and obvious atypicality
It's interesting that I posted not long ago about the art of ending well. At the time, my observations and thoughts were all about other people's endings, and trying to related my emotions to past experiences in order to process changes in one particular environment.
Since then, there have been numerous changes in our own lives, and I am challenged to handle those changes gracefully, and may get another opportunity to end something well. Hopefully, each new ending we face will be one I handle better than the last.
We are visiting a new educational environment this upcoming week. If you know me personally, please don't freak out! Only a few people have heard this from me directly, and it's nothing to do with any deficiency anywhere. As is her pattern M looks like she might be ready now for the plan I anticipated next Fall. I shouldn't be surprised. Actually, I'm feeling mostly tired. The short version is that these few months following vision therapy completion were impossible to predict, and we are trying to roll with it. "He just rolls. It's cool how he rolls" ~ The Invisible Man in Hotel Transylvania, in honor of Halloween yesterday :)
The next place we are exploring is one that my husband has been enthusiastic about, and he is taking a day off of work to visit with us. What cracks me up is his supervisor's reaction. M and I have met his current supervisor only once [because he recently switched positions within the company]. When he asked for the day off to visit "a new school" (not the terminology I would use - coop is closer), apparently his supervisor was scared. Isn't that adorable?! Is it just me? What he actually said to my husband was, "you're not putting that child into public school are you?!" My husband laughed and quickly said no, and his supervisor expressed relief. This man met us only once, is not opposed to public school options, and durring a short, unannounced stop at the office one afternoon, and it was clear to him. That pretty much tells our story related to meeting new people.
It makes me remember my friend R talking with me about all of this stuff years ago. She said, "Just don't talk about it with people," after I had expressed frustration that we cannot go anywhere without facing the uniqueness of our situation head on. Well, her son is now older and she is facing it, too. I am small enough to laugh at her and we still get along well :). You see, M talks. To everyone. All. The. Time.
I don't want my girl to grow up feeling that she has to hide herself or conform or fit into expectations. Being polite and respectful is required. Becoming a carbon copy of anyone else or fitting into a cookie cutter shape is not even desirable. Balancing those things is quite difficult for me to figure out in some situations.
Which brings me back to our visit this upcoming week . . . . it's not a special interest environment, so they will not be expecting an atypical child. Well, they are expecting a homeschooled child, so they will be expecting that degree of atypicality, I'll admit . . . Beyond that, they have no information about our unique situation. How should I prepare her?
Growing up, I would have been advised to be quiet and observe, and to smile and be attentive. Many of us would have been told similar things. Of course I want her to smile and be attentive. Observe? Absolutely! Be quiet? Never. Going. To. Happen. I don't want her to stifle what is a big part of her. Does it annoy me sometimes? OF COURSE! However, I do it, too, and I want her to grow up embracing the person God made her to be - or, if you prefer - to be the person she was born to be. She is amazing, unquenchably curious, irrepressibly enthusiastic, completely precocious, and many other admirable and (to be honest) irritating things.
No matter how it turns out, we will be keeping some of our routine the same. If it goes really well, we will be altering part of our schedule to incorporate this new thing in the Spring term, and I'll have yet another opportunity to practice the art of ending well. A week ago, I did not know this was coming. Gotta roll with it. Wish me luck in being the mother she needs me to be.
Since then, there have been numerous changes in our own lives, and I am challenged to handle those changes gracefully, and may get another opportunity to end something well. Hopefully, each new ending we face will be one I handle better than the last.
We are visiting a new educational environment this upcoming week. If you know me personally, please don't freak out! Only a few people have heard this from me directly, and it's nothing to do with any deficiency anywhere. As is her pattern M looks like she might be ready now for the plan I anticipated next Fall. I shouldn't be surprised. Actually, I'm feeling mostly tired. The short version is that these few months following vision therapy completion were impossible to predict, and we are trying to roll with it. "He just rolls. It's cool how he rolls" ~ The Invisible Man in Hotel Transylvania, in honor of Halloween yesterday :)
The next place we are exploring is one that my husband has been enthusiastic about, and he is taking a day off of work to visit with us. What cracks me up is his supervisor's reaction. M and I have met his current supervisor only once [because he recently switched positions within the company]. When he asked for the day off to visit "a new school" (not the terminology I would use - coop is closer), apparently his supervisor was scared. Isn't that adorable?! Is it just me? What he actually said to my husband was, "you're not putting that child into public school are you?!" My husband laughed and quickly said no, and his supervisor expressed relief. This man met us only once, is not opposed to public school options, and durring a short, unannounced stop at the office one afternoon, and it was clear to him. That pretty much tells our story related to meeting new people.
It makes me remember my friend R talking with me about all of this stuff years ago. She said, "Just don't talk about it with people," after I had expressed frustration that we cannot go anywhere without facing the uniqueness of our situation head on. Well, her son is now older and she is facing it, too. I am small enough to laugh at her and we still get along well :). You see, M talks. To everyone. All. The. Time.
I don't want my girl to grow up feeling that she has to hide herself or conform or fit into expectations. Being polite and respectful is required. Becoming a carbon copy of anyone else or fitting into a cookie cutter shape is not even desirable. Balancing those things is quite difficult for me to figure out in some situations.
Which brings me back to our visit this upcoming week . . . . it's not a special interest environment, so they will not be expecting an atypical child. Well, they are expecting a homeschooled child, so they will be expecting that degree of atypicality, I'll admit . . . Beyond that, they have no information about our unique situation. How should I prepare her?
Growing up, I would have been advised to be quiet and observe, and to smile and be attentive. Many of us would have been told similar things. Of course I want her to smile and be attentive. Observe? Absolutely! Be quiet? Never. Going. To. Happen. I don't want her to stifle what is a big part of her. Does it annoy me sometimes? OF COURSE! However, I do it, too, and I want her to grow up embracing the person God made her to be - or, if you prefer - to be the person she was born to be. She is amazing, unquenchably curious, irrepressibly enthusiastic, completely precocious, and many other admirable and (to be honest) irritating things.
No matter how it turns out, we will be keeping some of our routine the same. If it goes really well, we will be altering part of our schedule to incorporate this new thing in the Spring term, and I'll have yet another opportunity to practice the art of ending well. A week ago, I did not know this was coming. Gotta roll with it. Wish me luck in being the mother she needs me to be.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
How does Fall affect you? Family dynamics
Hi all,
I am struck by the changing season again this year. In some ways, our season change has been mild, and in some ways more extreme.
Tired is my general state of being during the Fall, and that's probably an understatement. I get dark circles so severe that people wonder if I have black eyes. Solution? Wear more makeup :)
Excited is M's general state of being during the Fall. She loves everything about it, and she gets ecstatic for all the Fall activities and schedules, since it means the poor only child gets to be around other kids a lot more often. At least, she thinks she's around other kids more often. I'm not sure if it's really that significant a change. However, her mama is a homebody, so it's probably a true account. When coops and sports start for Fall, we get a busier schedule.
Tired mama, and excited girl. Does this mean energy is leaking from one to the other?
Our whole family has allergies, however, including a dog on medication. Yes, literally. This leads to a lot of easily confused beings in the same house. I sleep through my alarm. M forgets things, the dogs gets goofy and itchy which is distracting, I forget things. My husband denies that he forgets things. With all this forgetting comes even more activity and chaos.
For instance, returning home for forgotten things on a regular basis. Or running to the grocery store during coop because the lunch bag that M took out of the fridge never made it into the bag we brought, and I assumed we were fine upon seeing said bag in the car. . .
You get the idea. That was all in one morning, and only a partial account.
My throat gets itchy and I love that my cousin carries a toothbrush just to scratch his itchy pallet during allergy season. I, on the other hand, drink carbonated beverages. They help clear the phlegm from my throat, reduce coughing and itching, and contain caffeine to combat the fatigue that leads to sleeping through the alarm that lasts a full hour (literally . . . unfortunately).
And, of course, when I'm drinking more caffeine, it leads to increased chaos and activity. Manic energy, you could say.
Do you see the spiral effect? Does it sound relaxing? Anyone with me on this? Anyone have a solution for me? In the meantime, I'll add more soda to the grocery list.
Hope you're having a fun fall filled with changing colors of leaves, pumpkins, squash, apples, and more!
I am struck by the changing season again this year. In some ways, our season change has been mild, and in some ways more extreme.
Tired is my general state of being during the Fall, and that's probably an understatement. I get dark circles so severe that people wonder if I have black eyes. Solution? Wear more makeup :)
Excited is M's general state of being during the Fall. She loves everything about it, and she gets ecstatic for all the Fall activities and schedules, since it means the poor only child gets to be around other kids a lot more often. At least, she thinks she's around other kids more often. I'm not sure if it's really that significant a change. However, her mama is a homebody, so it's probably a true account. When coops and sports start for Fall, we get a busier schedule.
Tired mama, and excited girl. Does this mean energy is leaking from one to the other?
Our whole family has allergies, however, including a dog on medication. Yes, literally. This leads to a lot of easily confused beings in the same house. I sleep through my alarm. M forgets things, the dogs gets goofy and itchy which is distracting, I forget things. My husband denies that he forgets things. With all this forgetting comes even more activity and chaos.
For instance, returning home for forgotten things on a regular basis. Or running to the grocery store during coop because the lunch bag that M took out of the fridge never made it into the bag we brought, and I assumed we were fine upon seeing said bag in the car. . .
You get the idea. That was all in one morning, and only a partial account.
My throat gets itchy and I love that my cousin carries a toothbrush just to scratch his itchy pallet during allergy season. I, on the other hand, drink carbonated beverages. They help clear the phlegm from my throat, reduce coughing and itching, and contain caffeine to combat the fatigue that leads to sleeping through the alarm that lasts a full hour (literally . . . unfortunately).
And, of course, when I'm drinking more caffeine, it leads to increased chaos and activity. Manic energy, you could say.
Do you see the spiral effect? Does it sound relaxing? Anyone with me on this? Anyone have a solution for me? In the meantime, I'll add more soda to the grocery list.
Hope you're having a fun fall filled with changing colors of leaves, pumpkins, squash, apples, and more!
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Other people are irritating and wonderful & the art of ending well.
In general, I love irony. Seriously, I do. People, however, are not always entertaining in their inconsistencies.
It has been a long time since my last post. I apologize for the long silence. I mentioned that we had a lot of drama in our lives. Multiple deaths and family estrangements add up to a heap of stress. This summer, I spent a great deal of time trying to heal and work through grief. M did some of that, as well, and my husband did more than M did (but less than I did). As the school year approached, I was not prepared to reenter the busier schedule of homeschooling and coops and sports. I wanted more time to heal. My wounds make me much more touchy about things that would otherwise be less irritating. I'm still raw.
I believe C.S. Lewis said something like "The best thing Christianity has going for it is Christians. The worst thing Christianity has going against it is Christians." I agree. I think it applies to other groups, as well.
In past posts, I've talked about the stereotypes of gifted children and gifted families and (pushy & proud, of course) moms of gifted kids. I think C.S. Lewis could adequately sum up those situations with only minor alterations to his quote paraphrased above.
We belong to two separate coops. Neither of them is religious in nature, and both of them meet in churches. One of them is a special interest coop for highly gifted kids. The other is an all-inclusive coop that M cannot wait to get to each week. We are very blessed to be a part of both of them. They are very different from each other & both are a good fit for M.
Both coops also have wonderful volunteers that sacrifice out of strong belief in and dedication to children and education. I briefly held a position at one of them, and it helped me appreciate these people all the more. They have a difficult job. Here's a universal truth noone likes: you cannot please everyone.
With an atypical child, I have run across many situations that were not a good fit for M. Some of those were great programs for other people we know. I try to be careful when talking about our decisions, and I try to be honest while keeping my focus on the fact that I am making decisions for M and that M is different than other children, so other children may need different arrangements. I hope I am mostly successful in this effort.
There have been situations where M has been accelerated, or put into a higher age bracket for a class. Some of these have been great fits, satisfying to everyone. Some of them pleased everyone but me. Some of them displeased a teacher, etc. Currently, M has chosen not to be accelerated in a subject that she loves with a teacher that she loves. Why? Because she wants to take some other classes that would not be possible if she took advantage of that teacher's invitation. Everyone has been (outwardly) accepting of the decision, and it seems to be working well for everyone involved.
Another family that we know is newer to homeschooling, newer to the knowledge of the gifted child concept, and . . . . apparently less careful about keeping their communication about themselves. Some more generalized comments have been made, interpreted as criticisms and there is a lot of stress in a lot of quarters over the situation. This is very difficult for me. I get very emotional about it.
Part of me wants to defend the family, as they are doing their best for a child with some similar struggles to my own. I see myself in the situation a while back. Part of me wants to defend the volunteers since I can relate to this, as well. The problem is that I disagree with the approach, and see people that I love and respect feeling very hurt by the situation on a regular basis. It is being posed as a "giftedness" thing. That includes us in the category, and it's a situation where I'd prefer not to be included.
When M was in a situation that didn't work out, we pulled her out. We asked if they could do anything about payments, but didn't make demands, and in many cases, never asked for specific numbers. Most of the time, the people/organizations were quite generous. They can't please everyone either.
If you cannot please everyone, then you cannot create a situation that will work for everyone. That is straightforward logic. This is where I think our culture needs to learn the art of ending well. Endings are inevitable. Nothing lasts forever. After losing so many loved ones in the last year this is very clear to me. However, I think few people are intentional and good at ending well. There will be so many endings in life that I feel this is something worth learning.
For example, the school system did not work for M (as readers of this blog know). The teachers were wonderful. She had delightful friends who just sat and cried with her, wishing they could help. The principal cried with me, wishing he could help. The school psychologist tried everything she could, trying her best to help. They wanted M to stay in school, and we wanted it to work for her. It did not work. So many individuals at that school taught me about ending well.
When we realized it wasn't going to work, we told M she had to finish the semester and "end well." We asked that she try and make it as pleasant for everyone as she could during the ending. We pointed out how many wonderful people had done so much to try and help, and she agreed. She saw the concern and care from those individuals, and I thanked them for their assistance and concern with tears in my eyes. I was and am grateful for them, even though it did not work in the end. I got some cards in the mail with Scripture on them, encouraging us in our decision. They were from teachers we knew to be Christian, but from a public school where they could not openly use Scripture, so the cards were sent anonymously. We had multiple teachers applaud our dedication to M in our decision-making, saying that our level of concern as parents meant that it would work out well for her. They were grateful she had us. That blew me away!
We ended school well. It was a great school, full of wonderful people. It did not work for M. If you are dissatisfied with something in your life, I encourage you to move on and try to end well. I believe it will make life better for so many people that want nothing but the best for you and yours. However, they are also bound to the universal truth that you cannot please everyone. They are not responsible for meeting every individual need, especially if they are volunteers in an organization that is not making money.
I enoucrage you to start something today. Practice gratitude by thanking those who are doing a job that you don't have to do yourself. Hug someone who is going through a hard time. Send a card (or flowers or something yummy to eat) to someone who could use a little cheer. Try to reperesent your various categories and groups (like Christian or gifted) in a way that communicates acceptance and encouragment and gratitude fo those both within and outside that description. Be kind to yourself and to others. Have a peaceful and loving weekend. You don't know how much time you will have. Spend it well.
It has been a long time since my last post. I apologize for the long silence. I mentioned that we had a lot of drama in our lives. Multiple deaths and family estrangements add up to a heap of stress. This summer, I spent a great deal of time trying to heal and work through grief. M did some of that, as well, and my husband did more than M did (but less than I did). As the school year approached, I was not prepared to reenter the busier schedule of homeschooling and coops and sports. I wanted more time to heal. My wounds make me much more touchy about things that would otherwise be less irritating. I'm still raw.
I believe C.S. Lewis said something like "The best thing Christianity has going for it is Christians. The worst thing Christianity has going against it is Christians." I agree. I think it applies to other groups, as well.
In past posts, I've talked about the stereotypes of gifted children and gifted families and (pushy & proud, of course) moms of gifted kids. I think C.S. Lewis could adequately sum up those situations with only minor alterations to his quote paraphrased above.
We belong to two separate coops. Neither of them is religious in nature, and both of them meet in churches. One of them is a special interest coop for highly gifted kids. The other is an all-inclusive coop that M cannot wait to get to each week. We are very blessed to be a part of both of them. They are very different from each other & both are a good fit for M.
Both coops also have wonderful volunteers that sacrifice out of strong belief in and dedication to children and education. I briefly held a position at one of them, and it helped me appreciate these people all the more. They have a difficult job. Here's a universal truth noone likes: you cannot please everyone.
With an atypical child, I have run across many situations that were not a good fit for M. Some of those were great programs for other people we know. I try to be careful when talking about our decisions, and I try to be honest while keeping my focus on the fact that I am making decisions for M and that M is different than other children, so other children may need different arrangements. I hope I am mostly successful in this effort.
There have been situations where M has been accelerated, or put into a higher age bracket for a class. Some of these have been great fits, satisfying to everyone. Some of them pleased everyone but me. Some of them displeased a teacher, etc. Currently, M has chosen not to be accelerated in a subject that she loves with a teacher that she loves. Why? Because she wants to take some other classes that would not be possible if she took advantage of that teacher's invitation. Everyone has been (outwardly) accepting of the decision, and it seems to be working well for everyone involved.
Another family that we know is newer to homeschooling, newer to the knowledge of the gifted child concept, and . . . . apparently less careful about keeping their communication about themselves. Some more generalized comments have been made, interpreted as criticisms and there is a lot of stress in a lot of quarters over the situation. This is very difficult for me. I get very emotional about it.
Part of me wants to defend the family, as they are doing their best for a child with some similar struggles to my own. I see myself in the situation a while back. Part of me wants to defend the volunteers since I can relate to this, as well. The problem is that I disagree with the approach, and see people that I love and respect feeling very hurt by the situation on a regular basis. It is being posed as a "giftedness" thing. That includes us in the category, and it's a situation where I'd prefer not to be included.
When M was in a situation that didn't work out, we pulled her out. We asked if they could do anything about payments, but didn't make demands, and in many cases, never asked for specific numbers. Most of the time, the people/organizations were quite generous. They can't please everyone either.
If you cannot please everyone, then you cannot create a situation that will work for everyone. That is straightforward logic. This is where I think our culture needs to learn the art of ending well. Endings are inevitable. Nothing lasts forever. After losing so many loved ones in the last year this is very clear to me. However, I think few people are intentional and good at ending well. There will be so many endings in life that I feel this is something worth learning.
For example, the school system did not work for M (as readers of this blog know). The teachers were wonderful. She had delightful friends who just sat and cried with her, wishing they could help. The principal cried with me, wishing he could help. The school psychologist tried everything she could, trying her best to help. They wanted M to stay in school, and we wanted it to work for her. It did not work. So many individuals at that school taught me about ending well.
When we realized it wasn't going to work, we told M she had to finish the semester and "end well." We asked that she try and make it as pleasant for everyone as she could during the ending. We pointed out how many wonderful people had done so much to try and help, and she agreed. She saw the concern and care from those individuals, and I thanked them for their assistance and concern with tears in my eyes. I was and am grateful for them, even though it did not work in the end. I got some cards in the mail with Scripture on them, encouraging us in our decision. They were from teachers we knew to be Christian, but from a public school where they could not openly use Scripture, so the cards were sent anonymously. We had multiple teachers applaud our dedication to M in our decision-making, saying that our level of concern as parents meant that it would work out well for her. They were grateful she had us. That blew me away!
We ended school well. It was a great school, full of wonderful people. It did not work for M. If you are dissatisfied with something in your life, I encourage you to move on and try to end well. I believe it will make life better for so many people that want nothing but the best for you and yours. However, they are also bound to the universal truth that you cannot please everyone. They are not responsible for meeting every individual need, especially if they are volunteers in an organization that is not making money.
I enoucrage you to start something today. Practice gratitude by thanking those who are doing a job that you don't have to do yourself. Hug someone who is going through a hard time. Send a card (or flowers or something yummy to eat) to someone who could use a little cheer. Try to reperesent your various categories and groups (like Christian or gifted) in a way that communicates acceptance and encouragment and gratitude fo those both within and outside that description. Be kind to yourself and to others. Have a peaceful and loving weekend. You don't know how much time you will have. Spend it well.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Kid gloves clash with black - or - funeral attire and a kid who understands much
I'm trying to wrap my mind around this concept, but it feels messy. I apologize in advance for the disorganization I anticipate. It's not a pretty or pleasant experience.
Our lives have involved an average of a funeral every other month for a while now. Only half of them were grandparents to anyone, and three of them involve cancer. Two of them are peers, and three of them were very beloved. Not pretty. Not pleasant.
Growing up, my mother claimed to talk to us like adults from the start. She didn't believe in baby talk, and I never developed a talent for (or interest in) baby talk myself. I only have one style of speaking, and my daughter has inherited it. Most people say she talks like a mini adult. Recently, a relative described her as "talking like a little old lady." I'm still trying to process that one as a compliment . . . It was intended as one.
In the midst of very difficult events, not limited to these deaths, I have struggled with how to talk with M about everything. Most adults, I think, would gloss over things, minimize the pain, and try to pretend all is well. I cannot do that. I'm not sure I even want to do that.
I picture kid gloves as white - like the ones you might see in a dust testing situation. They don't go well with black. While I admire that the widow wore a bright dress, as I have seen others choose to do, I wear black many days right now. Kid gloves simply don't go. Besides, I don't like wearing gloves unless it's winter.
I have led a life full of pain and loss. I don't wish those experiences on others, yet I would not give back what I have gained through those experiences. I am a better person than I was before them. In experiencing all of these things at a tender age, we don't want to rob M of the benefits that can be gained. We wish none of those people had died recently, but we don't want to miss the value in the circumstances, either.
Tonight, my husband gave me a compliment that was bigger than he realized. We are grieving. We are messy. I often feel bad that M is going through this with us at her young age. However, my husband said, "She's learning. This will serve us well in the long run. We aren't hiding." He's right.
My biggest struggle right now is accepting that an amazing boy is now the man of the house. He is ten years old. His father was amazing. His father helped me grow in amazing ways and taught so many people what love looks like every day.
I don't like people saying that someone is too young to die. I have lost peers at ages 16 & 21, so most don't really compare to too young in that sense. However, I have become my own irritating example. They are too young. The father was too young to die. The son is too young to lose his father. It's real, though. He is dead.
Watching M process this has taught me, as well. Again. She is amazing. She cried with me and said, "This will really affect his whole life. . . losing his dad at this age." She is right. She is sympathetic. She has always been drawn to this boy, so the connection seems stronger.
A few weeks ago, I had confirmation that pathological grief is commonly brought on by less than we have experienced in the last year. No, we don't have it. Not now, anyway. Life is messy. Our home is not functioning well. M can see it. Even if we tried to hide it, she would know. I choose to be deliberate about the experience. I will do my best to help her be deliberate in processing this series of events.
Recently, M is very careful. She asks for permission far more often than is necessary. She is quieter than usual. She is getting her responsibilities done earlier than usual. When she makes a mistake, she is harder on herself than before. She is treating us with kid gloves, I think.
In another recent conversation, I told her I wished I was more patient. Citing some past struggles that we did not know were related to her vision, I expressed regret at my past approach. She reassured me quickly and earnestly. She pointed out that we got it done, and that I could not have known earlier. She is so wise and kind.
I am unsure if M is emotionally capable of working through these recent events. She is intellectually capable of sorting through it, but she is young. One of the challenges of being an intelligent child strikes again. She is asymmetrically developed, and that requires some guesswork. When I cannot get through a day without crying multiple times, my guesswork gets shoddy. I apologize a lot. I will work through this with her and hope that in the future, she looks back and feels as I do - not wishing the experience on anyone, but not willing to give up what she gained in her character. Please pray that I am successful in this.
The blessing in the experience is a very solid realization of the support we now have. It has shown up in greater force and multitude than I expected. That is such an encouragement and relief! I am so thankful . . .
Peace and health to you and yours. And a fabulous support network! Thank you again to mine and ours!
Our lives have involved an average of a funeral every other month for a while now. Only half of them were grandparents to anyone, and three of them involve cancer. Two of them are peers, and three of them were very beloved. Not pretty. Not pleasant.
Growing up, my mother claimed to talk to us like adults from the start. She didn't believe in baby talk, and I never developed a talent for (or interest in) baby talk myself. I only have one style of speaking, and my daughter has inherited it. Most people say she talks like a mini adult. Recently, a relative described her as "talking like a little old lady." I'm still trying to process that one as a compliment . . . It was intended as one.
In the midst of very difficult events, not limited to these deaths, I have struggled with how to talk with M about everything. Most adults, I think, would gloss over things, minimize the pain, and try to pretend all is well. I cannot do that. I'm not sure I even want to do that.
I picture kid gloves as white - like the ones you might see in a dust testing situation. They don't go well with black. While I admire that the widow wore a bright dress, as I have seen others choose to do, I wear black many days right now. Kid gloves simply don't go. Besides, I don't like wearing gloves unless it's winter.
I have led a life full of pain and loss. I don't wish those experiences on others, yet I would not give back what I have gained through those experiences. I am a better person than I was before them. In experiencing all of these things at a tender age, we don't want to rob M of the benefits that can be gained. We wish none of those people had died recently, but we don't want to miss the value in the circumstances, either.
Tonight, my husband gave me a compliment that was bigger than he realized. We are grieving. We are messy. I often feel bad that M is going through this with us at her young age. However, my husband said, "She's learning. This will serve us well in the long run. We aren't hiding." He's right.
My biggest struggle right now is accepting that an amazing boy is now the man of the house. He is ten years old. His father was amazing. His father helped me grow in amazing ways and taught so many people what love looks like every day.
I don't like people saying that someone is too young to die. I have lost peers at ages 16 & 21, so most don't really compare to too young in that sense. However, I have become my own irritating example. They are too young. The father was too young to die. The son is too young to lose his father. It's real, though. He is dead.
Watching M process this has taught me, as well. Again. She is amazing. She cried with me and said, "This will really affect his whole life. . . losing his dad at this age." She is right. She is sympathetic. She has always been drawn to this boy, so the connection seems stronger.
A few weeks ago, I had confirmation that pathological grief is commonly brought on by less than we have experienced in the last year. No, we don't have it. Not now, anyway. Life is messy. Our home is not functioning well. M can see it. Even if we tried to hide it, she would know. I choose to be deliberate about the experience. I will do my best to help her be deliberate in processing this series of events.
Recently, M is very careful. She asks for permission far more often than is necessary. She is quieter than usual. She is getting her responsibilities done earlier than usual. When she makes a mistake, she is harder on herself than before. She is treating us with kid gloves, I think.
In another recent conversation, I told her I wished I was more patient. Citing some past struggles that we did not know were related to her vision, I expressed regret at my past approach. She reassured me quickly and earnestly. She pointed out that we got it done, and that I could not have known earlier. She is so wise and kind.
I am unsure if M is emotionally capable of working through these recent events. She is intellectually capable of sorting through it, but she is young. One of the challenges of being an intelligent child strikes again. She is asymmetrically developed, and that requires some guesswork. When I cannot get through a day without crying multiple times, my guesswork gets shoddy. I apologize a lot. I will work through this with her and hope that in the future, she looks back and feels as I do - not wishing the experience on anyone, but not willing to give up what she gained in her character. Please pray that I am successful in this.
The blessing in the experience is a very solid realization of the support we now have. It has shown up in greater force and multitude than I expected. That is such an encouragement and relief! I am so thankful . . .
Peace and health to you and yours. And a fabulous support network! Thank you again to mine and ours!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
A life well lived. Not just Maya Angelou's
I've been feeling pretty crazy lately. Yes, more than ever. Be afraid. Be very afraid! ;)
In this case, I think I've earned the right to feel crazy. Four human funerals between friends and family within a 12 month period justifies that, I think. [There have been animal funerals, as well.] I am not yet ready to talk about the big one, but here is the most positive one, if a death experience can be a positive experience. I think it can. A memorial is supposed to be a celebration of life. I think I witnessed that.
The passing of Maya Angelou reminded me of a more sane value structure based on people, and we have been blessed to have one of those in our own lives. I need to back up, though.
When family life got complicated, some new people stepped in to be admin in our main homeschool coop, so I could step down, and they even offered me an early leave with no guilt over the mess of paperwork I handed over. I received thanks for what I had done, even as I felt I was backing out prematurely. A few days later, a beloved aunt died. I had the freedom to fully enter into celebrating her life and mourning her loss without the guilt of admin responsibilities. It was such a gift, from both those that I had known a while, and some who I had just gotten to know. I was so touched!
I cried about our situation in coop. Yes, I am that scary open person. I received countless hugs and support and prayers and thoughts and juju - I'll take it all, so long as it's positive. I shared some of the yarn stash that Aunt Mary had left & was genuinely happy as people came by & thanked me & told me they were thinking of her in her final days. I smiled watching people select what they would use and knowing that it all would be used, and that more people would think of her in her final days and send positivity her way. Some stopped and offered words or a hug, and others did not. I appreciated all of it.
It didn't really feel like Aunt was gone as the family gathered in her home following the funeral. There were only a couple of the grandkids that are not already adults, but all the grandkids drifted to one room, and my young daughter was so kindly included and humored and enjoyed. . . I don't know the names of all the people in that generation, as some are so distantly related, but it was a gift to watch M drift in with them & try to fit in and be comfortable. It was a room full of iPhones, so she grabbed our iPad and joined the fun in her own fashion.
Being and introvert, and the newest family member of my generation (having known the deceased for only 15 years), I sat in a living room next to the grandkids' chosen hangout. In the room opposite the grandkids sat a very different group, including mostly people of the older generation and my own generation. It was calming and comforting to listen to them. There was laughter and sincere interchange. It was a somber occasion, but there was still significant laughter. Aunt would have liked that.
In the middle of that, her voice and smile were absent, but *she* didn't feel absent. Thinking about that, I realized that I sensed her spirit in the hearts and heads of so many in that house. She was still there. She will remain for a very long time in a very positive way. She invested herself in other people. I hope to be so lucky when I depart. Even at her funeral, she was inspiring and teaching. What an example!
A man of our generation who I know little, yet admire from every encounter, had been talking with M when I wasn't in earshot. He told me his impressions and gently probed for some information. This is something I am used to, and I was tired, so I did not react ideally at first. He looked surprised, and we both apologized, but were able to turn the mood of the talk. His parents were listening and not talking, which made me more self-conscious; I had not met them before. I ended up telling them a little bit, and he impressed me yet again. His reaction was to say "That must make you feel_____" and pinpoint where I live.
I don't remember that perfect word, of course, but he nailed it. He did so kindly. He really paid attention, and he really saw my daughter in his brief interchange with her. The more I thought about it, the more he impressed me. M will shut down when someone notices her differences and reacts even in subtle ways. She does not want to stick out. Not only did this man accept her for who she was, but he reacted with acceptance. She did not feel the need to hide her sparkle. I can understand why he was chosen by his equally amazing wife.
As we got ready to leave for our long drive home, our aunt's daughters escorted us into her bedroom, where they pulled out a quilt from a stack. My husband teared up at her handwriting on a note pinned to a quilt with our names on it. I cried, and could only say, "wow." M jumped and ran around the house with excitement. She had left her own memorial for many individuals and chosen which of her brand new quilts she wanted to leave to different people. It was so touching and perfect. I cannot imagine where she ever found the time to make so many. Ours is now on our queen size bed. Wow.
Since then, I think about her often. I have chosen to do and say some thing intentionally that I think she would have chosen and said herself. She remains a good example of how to live life well. She continues to improve my life and my daughter's, and we were the latest of each respective generation to the party that was her life. Such quiet power. Love.
In this case, I think I've earned the right to feel crazy. Four human funerals between friends and family within a 12 month period justifies that, I think. [There have been animal funerals, as well.] I am not yet ready to talk about the big one, but here is the most positive one, if a death experience can be a positive experience. I think it can. A memorial is supposed to be a celebration of life. I think I witnessed that.
The passing of Maya Angelou reminded me of a more sane value structure based on people, and we have been blessed to have one of those in our own lives. I need to back up, though.
When family life got complicated, some new people stepped in to be admin in our main homeschool coop, so I could step down, and they even offered me an early leave with no guilt over the mess of paperwork I handed over. I received thanks for what I had done, even as I felt I was backing out prematurely. A few days later, a beloved aunt died. I had the freedom to fully enter into celebrating her life and mourning her loss without the guilt of admin responsibilities. It was such a gift, from both those that I had known a while, and some who I had just gotten to know. I was so touched!
I cried about our situation in coop. Yes, I am that scary open person. I received countless hugs and support and prayers and thoughts and juju - I'll take it all, so long as it's positive. I shared some of the yarn stash that Aunt Mary had left & was genuinely happy as people came by & thanked me & told me they were thinking of her in her final days. I smiled watching people select what they would use and knowing that it all would be used, and that more people would think of her in her final days and send positivity her way. Some stopped and offered words or a hug, and others did not. I appreciated all of it.
It didn't really feel like Aunt was gone as the family gathered in her home following the funeral. There were only a couple of the grandkids that are not already adults, but all the grandkids drifted to one room, and my young daughter was so kindly included and humored and enjoyed. . . I don't know the names of all the people in that generation, as some are so distantly related, but it was a gift to watch M drift in with them & try to fit in and be comfortable. It was a room full of iPhones, so she grabbed our iPad and joined the fun in her own fashion.
Being and introvert, and the newest family member of my generation (having known the deceased for only 15 years), I sat in a living room next to the grandkids' chosen hangout. In the room opposite the grandkids sat a very different group, including mostly people of the older generation and my own generation. It was calming and comforting to listen to them. There was laughter and sincere interchange. It was a somber occasion, but there was still significant laughter. Aunt would have liked that.
In the middle of that, her voice and smile were absent, but *she* didn't feel absent. Thinking about that, I realized that I sensed her spirit in the hearts and heads of so many in that house. She was still there. She will remain for a very long time in a very positive way. She invested herself in other people. I hope to be so lucky when I depart. Even at her funeral, she was inspiring and teaching. What an example!
A man of our generation who I know little, yet admire from every encounter, had been talking with M when I wasn't in earshot. He told me his impressions and gently probed for some information. This is something I am used to, and I was tired, so I did not react ideally at first. He looked surprised, and we both apologized, but were able to turn the mood of the talk. His parents were listening and not talking, which made me more self-conscious; I had not met them before. I ended up telling them a little bit, and he impressed me yet again. His reaction was to say "That must make you feel_____" and pinpoint where I live.
I don't remember that perfect word, of course, but he nailed it. He did so kindly. He really paid attention, and he really saw my daughter in his brief interchange with her. The more I thought about it, the more he impressed me. M will shut down when someone notices her differences and reacts even in subtle ways. She does not want to stick out. Not only did this man accept her for who she was, but he reacted with acceptance. She did not feel the need to hide her sparkle. I can understand why he was chosen by his equally amazing wife.
As we got ready to leave for our long drive home, our aunt's daughters escorted us into her bedroom, where they pulled out a quilt from a stack. My husband teared up at her handwriting on a note pinned to a quilt with our names on it. I cried, and could only say, "wow." M jumped and ran around the house with excitement. She had left her own memorial for many individuals and chosen which of her brand new quilts she wanted to leave to different people. It was so touching and perfect. I cannot imagine where she ever found the time to make so many. Ours is now on our queen size bed. Wow.
Since then, I think about her often. I have chosen to do and say some thing intentionally that I think she would have chosen and said herself. She remains a good example of how to live life well. She continues to improve my life and my daughter's, and we were the latest of each respective generation to the party that was her life. Such quiet power. Love.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Just a normal summer afternoon musing?
Last weekend, being a long weekend, we were at a slower pace than usual. A friend was over as we were going about our everyday things. It gave me a new view of what our "normal" looks like to an outsider who knows us as well as anyone does.
We were discussing wood and bark, and it started because M used one word when she should have used the other one, in my opinion. Four of us were in the room. Here's what followed:
M: Aren't wood and bark the same thing?
me: Well, bark is usually the outer layer and the wood comes from the interior layers.
M: Yeah, but they are part of the same tree, and essentially the same.
me: Maybe at the atomic level. I'm not sure. However, they are different. Bark is rougher, for instance.
our visitor: crooked smile starts getting bigger as she appears to be watching a ridiculous scene on TV.
M: Doesn't the atomic level determine things like roughness?
me: the DNA of a butterfly and caterpillar are the same, even though they are different. Maybe it's how they are arranged, I'm not sure.
M: I think they are the same.
me: Most people refer to bark and wood differently, whether or not it's technically accurate. Besides, I think bark might float more easily than wood.
the dad: rolls his eyes and gets up, telling the visitor "welcome to my world."
visitor: "Mmmm hmmmm" in her very attitude-filled tone.
M: Don't the atoms make it float more or less?
me: I'm not sure. It's about density.
the dad: Yup, mass and density.
me: We're on summer schedule. It's something you can look up.
Just an average afternoon of sitting around with no plans in particular. I'm not sure it would have occurred to me as atypical. That fact alone makes me laugh, actually. Hope you had a great holiday weekend and are entering the short week in good spirits.
We were discussing wood and bark, and it started because M used one word when she should have used the other one, in my opinion. Four of us were in the room. Here's what followed:
M: Aren't wood and bark the same thing?
me: Well, bark is usually the outer layer and the wood comes from the interior layers.
M: Yeah, but they are part of the same tree, and essentially the same.
me: Maybe at the atomic level. I'm not sure. However, they are different. Bark is rougher, for instance.
our visitor: crooked smile starts getting bigger as she appears to be watching a ridiculous scene on TV.
M: Doesn't the atomic level determine things like roughness?
me: the DNA of a butterfly and caterpillar are the same, even though they are different. Maybe it's how they are arranged, I'm not sure.
M: I think they are the same.
me: Most people refer to bark and wood differently, whether or not it's technically accurate. Besides, I think bark might float more easily than wood.
the dad: rolls his eyes and gets up, telling the visitor "welcome to my world."
visitor: "Mmmm hmmmm" in her very attitude-filled tone.
M: Don't the atoms make it float more or less?
me: I'm not sure. It's about density.
the dad: Yup, mass and density.
me: We're on summer schedule. It's something you can look up.
Just an average afternoon of sitting around with no plans in particular. I'm not sure it would have occurred to me as atypical. That fact alone makes me laugh, actually. Hope you had a great holiday weekend and are entering the short week in good spirits.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Yes, we're still alive! Well, most of us. . .
It's been rough for quite a while around here, and I am proud of us for doing as well as we have through an awful number of difficulties. We have an amazing network of caring friends who are the reason I am not in an institution. I feel like I'm finally coming out of a fog.
I have intentionally kept this blog vague, and avoided being obviously linked to it. I think it's time I forget about that. One of the lessons for me in the last few months is that being myself actually is OK. No, it's much better than that. It's invigorating, liberating, courageous, refreshing, frightening, vulnerable, and much more. My biggest lesson learned over the last few months is that people are more loving than I assume, more supportive than I expect, and being vulnerable with some people can be safe.
Pretty intense for the first post since January, I realize. Sorry. Kinda. No, not really. I am a scarily intense person. If you don't like it, you won't like me, and that's OK. For the first time in my life I am feeling secure in my own skin. For today. It will likely change soon, so don't hold me to it!
Morgan is actually awaiting me in heaven. I used her name instead of my living daughter's, after being hurt deeply by a family we had trusted completely and been wounded by. My daughter & husband were as hurt as I was. I was afraid others would do the same, so I used Morgan's name. The internet is not secure enough that I want to reveal my living daughter's name outright, but I will be honest here and today.
Recently, we did our annual testing, which is a homsechooling requirement in Minnesota. I finally switched to the Peabody test, which tells me the average grade level M is performing in each subject. We are almost done with vision therapy, and after two and a half years of homeschooling, I was really looking forward to some guidance about how to plan for our upcoming year, as well as honest insight into how she is progressing.
M has some test anxiety, so she was asking lots of questions. We tried to explain, but probably didn't do a great job, since it was also our first time using this particular test. She was scared of failing, which is something that we have never been concerned about, so we're not sure where it originates. I said, "PLEASE don't get the top score in any are of the test. I can't handle that yet! Seriously, you have a lot of time to get through high school!" We all laughed and slept peacefully the night before the test.
I texted the results to my husband (who was anxious, as well). "Congratulations! You have a seventh grader." She is 9. We are so proud of her, and yet it's pretty terrifying. My husband told her he was proud and told her to pick dinner - in or out, and anywhere or anything she wanted. Perkins, of course!
I listened to most of the testing from the adjoining room. This sums up my experience:
Tester: Next we're going to do some spelling.
M: What's Spelling?
me: Palm- forehead, followed by an apparent blackout, because I am certain the tester responded, but I cannot recall anything that was said for a while . . .
Test results: M maxed out the Peabody in spelling. This means she spells as well as the average high school grad. Without knowing what spelling is.
Overall, she did not graduate yet, LOL! And thank God for that! However, we all laughed heartily about spelling. I guess I should let go of the guilt I had been carrying for ignoring spelling (and some other things) while we tackled vision therapy this year. It has been a family effort, involving almost daily practice with at home, as well as weekly appointments for a year. Let's face it, she's ahead of grade level in everything. Why should anyone care that we haven't actively worked on every subject? Does it matter that she knew what spelling was if she could spell at an adult level? I think not.
There have been a lot of family changes in the last year or so. In early March, a new niece was born. About 24 hours ago, I found out what her name is.
When I told M she had a new cousin, she did not ask when we would see her. She knew we would not. At least not now. She asked what her name was, and I had to tell her that I didn't know. She asked if we would send a gift, and I told her "of course." She picked a gift. We mailed it addressed to the family. We received a thank you note. We still were not told her name in that note, nor did we receive a birth announcement from family that lives about 15 minutes away.
Yes, this is sad, but knowing her name brings me some peace. That gives you enough of an idea about how our life has been challenging, I think.
I felt like a bum mother. I apologized to M again, telling her that I wish I had a more loving, healthy, supportive extended family to give to her. I simply don't have it. She said, "Mom! Family is just a group of people that care about each other and take care of each other. We have that!"
Yes. She's right, of course. And I have been experiencing that over and over in a variety of ways, including a couple of homeschool coops. Today, I watched a newer homeschooler talk about how cool and different it was in our coop than in the "real world" and realized how right she was.
Backing out of an evening of childcare was part of my day, and I felt bad about it, even though there was some notice and it was the right decision. I expected disappointment from the mother accompanied by averted eyes & attention from her lunchtime playground companions.
I got none of that.
The mother told me that she had expected it, and that it was fine. She knows I am very introverted, and she offered to give me some solitude during a time when my husband will be out of town. All this in one breath. What a loving and unexpected (by me) response! Her companions affirmed my self-awareness, as they are also both quite introverted, and talked about how important it is that M is learning about those boundaries at an early age. It was so . . . peaceful. Encouraging. Loving. Accepting.
I was blown away by the peacefulness and support of the encounter.
As I told my husband about it, I said, "Who does that? What is that? It's so cool!" He smiled sadly at me in a not-at-all-funny way and said without a pause, "that's family."
Yes! Ouch! Wow. I really don't get that. I'm so glad to have it. I have a lot to learn!
M is SOOOOOOO right. Family is a group of people working together to improve the lives and experiences of all. We have that. Thank you, Lord!
I have intentionally kept this blog vague, and avoided being obviously linked to it. I think it's time I forget about that. One of the lessons for me in the last few months is that being myself actually is OK. No, it's much better than that. It's invigorating, liberating, courageous, refreshing, frightening, vulnerable, and much more. My biggest lesson learned over the last few months is that people are more loving than I assume, more supportive than I expect, and being vulnerable with some people can be safe.
Pretty intense for the first post since January, I realize. Sorry. Kinda. No, not really. I am a scarily intense person. If you don't like it, you won't like me, and that's OK. For the first time in my life I am feeling secure in my own skin. For today. It will likely change soon, so don't hold me to it!
Morgan is actually awaiting me in heaven. I used her name instead of my living daughter's, after being hurt deeply by a family we had trusted completely and been wounded by. My daughter & husband were as hurt as I was. I was afraid others would do the same, so I used Morgan's name. The internet is not secure enough that I want to reveal my living daughter's name outright, but I will be honest here and today.
Recently, we did our annual testing, which is a homsechooling requirement in Minnesota. I finally switched to the Peabody test, which tells me the average grade level M is performing in each subject. We are almost done with vision therapy, and after two and a half years of homeschooling, I was really looking forward to some guidance about how to plan for our upcoming year, as well as honest insight into how she is progressing.
M has some test anxiety, so she was asking lots of questions. We tried to explain, but probably didn't do a great job, since it was also our first time using this particular test. She was scared of failing, which is something that we have never been concerned about, so we're not sure where it originates. I said, "PLEASE don't get the top score in any are of the test. I can't handle that yet! Seriously, you have a lot of time to get through high school!" We all laughed and slept peacefully the night before the test.
I texted the results to my husband (who was anxious, as well). "Congratulations! You have a seventh grader." She is 9. We are so proud of her, and yet it's pretty terrifying. My husband told her he was proud and told her to pick dinner - in or out, and anywhere or anything she wanted. Perkins, of course!
I listened to most of the testing from the adjoining room. This sums up my experience:
Tester: Next we're going to do some spelling.
M: What's Spelling?
me: Palm- forehead, followed by an apparent blackout, because I am certain the tester responded, but I cannot recall anything that was said for a while . . .
Test results: M maxed out the Peabody in spelling. This means she spells as well as the average high school grad. Without knowing what spelling is.
Overall, she did not graduate yet, LOL! And thank God for that! However, we all laughed heartily about spelling. I guess I should let go of the guilt I had been carrying for ignoring spelling (and some other things) while we tackled vision therapy this year. It has been a family effort, involving almost daily practice with at home, as well as weekly appointments for a year. Let's face it, she's ahead of grade level in everything. Why should anyone care that we haven't actively worked on every subject? Does it matter that she knew what spelling was if she could spell at an adult level? I think not.
There have been a lot of family changes in the last year or so. In early March, a new niece was born. About 24 hours ago, I found out what her name is.
When I told M she had a new cousin, she did not ask when we would see her. She knew we would not. At least not now. She asked what her name was, and I had to tell her that I didn't know. She asked if we would send a gift, and I told her "of course." She picked a gift. We mailed it addressed to the family. We received a thank you note. We still were not told her name in that note, nor did we receive a birth announcement from family that lives about 15 minutes away.
Yes, this is sad, but knowing her name brings me some peace. That gives you enough of an idea about how our life has been challenging, I think.
I felt like a bum mother. I apologized to M again, telling her that I wish I had a more loving, healthy, supportive extended family to give to her. I simply don't have it. She said, "Mom! Family is just a group of people that care about each other and take care of each other. We have that!"
Yes. She's right, of course. And I have been experiencing that over and over in a variety of ways, including a couple of homeschool coops. Today, I watched a newer homeschooler talk about how cool and different it was in our coop than in the "real world" and realized how right she was.
Backing out of an evening of childcare was part of my day, and I felt bad about it, even though there was some notice and it was the right decision. I expected disappointment from the mother accompanied by averted eyes & attention from her lunchtime playground companions.
I got none of that.
The mother told me that she had expected it, and that it was fine. She knows I am very introverted, and she offered to give me some solitude during a time when my husband will be out of town. All this in one breath. What a loving and unexpected (by me) response! Her companions affirmed my self-awareness, as they are also both quite introverted, and talked about how important it is that M is learning about those boundaries at an early age. It was so . . . peaceful. Encouraging. Loving. Accepting.
I was blown away by the peacefulness and support of the encounter.
As I told my husband about it, I said, "Who does that? What is that? It's so cool!" He smiled sadly at me in a not-at-all-funny way and said without a pause, "that's family."
Yes! Ouch! Wow. I really don't get that. I'm so glad to have it. I have a lot to learn!
M is SOOOOOOO right. Family is a group of people working together to improve the lives and experiences of all. We have that. Thank you, Lord!
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Giftedness is scary
"Dan. I'm worried about him. It's not right that a 13 year old knows as much as he does." ~ Amy Cahill . . . . "I hear you. Atticus already knows more than I will in my entire life. It's scary. On the one hand, he's a little kid [11 years old]. On the other hand, he's a supercomputer with two legs." ~ Jake Rosenbloom
~ Shatterproof by Roland Smith - Cahills Vs Vespers Book 4
Giftedness is scary. I have yet to meet a parent going through this adventure who is surprised to hear me say this. Enthusiastic agreement is the usual response, actually. I think the above exchange captures it, even though parents are not involved and it is fiction.
The truth it, I wish M did not know so much. Some of the amazing volume of information is simply fascinating. However, some of it requires her to wonder about information that she would not otherwise encounter at her age. Unfortunately, this has not changed, and I don't anticipate it ending until her adulthood, if then.
Not only does she have a lot of information, she has an amazing imagination. This sounds like a wonderful thing. However, it's a mixed bag. Yes, she imagines wonderful, entertaining, fascinating and valuable things. She also worries about things that her same-age peers would not be contemplating for lack of awareness. She experiences the scary side of giftedness. She has the intellectual capacity to understand information far beyond her emotional ability to process information.
Just last week, M told me, "I used to have nightmares every night. It's been a while since I've had one." While I was relieved to hear that she is sleeping soundly, as she emotionally matures, I was also sad for my baby girl. She went through YEARS of nightmares every night.
She's always been fascinated with biology. Because of that, she has had intimations of diseases and dysfunctions that are often unimportant but can be quite serious. She had the intellect to extrapolate and understand the potential dangers. However, she did not have the emotional maturity or the life experience to temper her fears. She still will not look at the anti-piracy warnings at the beginning of DVDs. This began years ago, and she was worried that she might accidentally get into big trouble, since she was not sure how piracy might happen. For months, she left the room whenever a movie was started. That is the effect of some of the asynchronous development of these children.
Like Jake Rosenbloom. I am intimidated at having responsibility for a child with so much information. I have been accused by many, including a children's pastor, of pushing her too hard. I regret to admit that I was guilty of the same kind of impressions of others before learning how much I still had to learn. The truth is, I am being dragged behind this speeding supercomputer on two legs, trying to keep it together. Stopping is not a healthy option. All I can do is my best to facilitate her journey.
Most parents are concerned with the emotional development of their children. With the asynchronous child, it is more complicated. There are countless books of advice and research on raising children, considering their emotional needs. A very small percentage of these address the asynchronous child. Many parents joke that they need an owner's manual for their child, but the grain of truth is there, since the books sell so well. There is less support and information available for these atypical children.
I often say that I am the dumb one in our family. It's mostly a joke. However, there is evidence that intelligence range is largely hereditary. As a woman who believes in Scripture, I believe that God gave us the perfect child for us, and gave M the perfect parents for her. I often think He overestimates me. It's scary.
A psychiatrist told me a story from his recent vacation. They were in a cutesy souvenir shop and saw a decorative sign that said, "It's all about family." His companion was also a psychiatrist, and they shared a joke about how they interpreted that statement, but they believe it.
It's a serious responsibility. I do not take it lightly, and that makes it scary, whether or not I feel like my daughter is smarter than I'll ever be. That impression changes hour by hour, in case you were curious. . .
My daughter will have scars from her parents. Her parents have scars from their parents. The pattern continues indefinitely. We admit to her that we make mistakes, and we hope that we will do our best and always work with her. Our constant effort is to gather the best information available, use the resources we can find, and make the best choices we can. When something doesn't work, we adjust. When something works, we exhale, and hope it keeps working for a while.
Giftedness is stereotypically associated pride and arrogance. I would argue that terror is as common. Wishing you many nights of deep, calm sleep - free of nightmares.
~ Shatterproof by Roland Smith - Cahills Vs Vespers Book 4
Giftedness is scary. I have yet to meet a parent going through this adventure who is surprised to hear me say this. Enthusiastic agreement is the usual response, actually. I think the above exchange captures it, even though parents are not involved and it is fiction.
The truth it, I wish M did not know so much. Some of the amazing volume of information is simply fascinating. However, some of it requires her to wonder about information that she would not otherwise encounter at her age. Unfortunately, this has not changed, and I don't anticipate it ending until her adulthood, if then.
Not only does she have a lot of information, she has an amazing imagination. This sounds like a wonderful thing. However, it's a mixed bag. Yes, she imagines wonderful, entertaining, fascinating and valuable things. She also worries about things that her same-age peers would not be contemplating for lack of awareness. She experiences the scary side of giftedness. She has the intellectual capacity to understand information far beyond her emotional ability to process information.
Just last week, M told me, "I used to have nightmares every night. It's been a while since I've had one." While I was relieved to hear that she is sleeping soundly, as she emotionally matures, I was also sad for my baby girl. She went through YEARS of nightmares every night.
She's always been fascinated with biology. Because of that, she has had intimations of diseases and dysfunctions that are often unimportant but can be quite serious. She had the intellect to extrapolate and understand the potential dangers. However, she did not have the emotional maturity or the life experience to temper her fears. She still will not look at the anti-piracy warnings at the beginning of DVDs. This began years ago, and she was worried that she might accidentally get into big trouble, since she was not sure how piracy might happen. For months, she left the room whenever a movie was started. That is the effect of some of the asynchronous development of these children.
Like Jake Rosenbloom. I am intimidated at having responsibility for a child with so much information. I have been accused by many, including a children's pastor, of pushing her too hard. I regret to admit that I was guilty of the same kind of impressions of others before learning how much I still had to learn. The truth is, I am being dragged behind this speeding supercomputer on two legs, trying to keep it together. Stopping is not a healthy option. All I can do is my best to facilitate her journey.
Most parents are concerned with the emotional development of their children. With the asynchronous child, it is more complicated. There are countless books of advice and research on raising children, considering their emotional needs. A very small percentage of these address the asynchronous child. Many parents joke that they need an owner's manual for their child, but the grain of truth is there, since the books sell so well. There is less support and information available for these atypical children.
I often say that I am the dumb one in our family. It's mostly a joke. However, there is evidence that intelligence range is largely hereditary. As a woman who believes in Scripture, I believe that God gave us the perfect child for us, and gave M the perfect parents for her. I often think He overestimates me. It's scary.
A psychiatrist told me a story from his recent vacation. They were in a cutesy souvenir shop and saw a decorative sign that said, "It's all about family." His companion was also a psychiatrist, and they shared a joke about how they interpreted that statement, but they believe it.
It's a serious responsibility. I do not take it lightly, and that makes it scary, whether or not I feel like my daughter is smarter than I'll ever be. That impression changes hour by hour, in case you were curious. . .
My daughter will have scars from her parents. Her parents have scars from their parents. The pattern continues indefinitely. We admit to her that we make mistakes, and we hope that we will do our best and always work with her. Our constant effort is to gather the best information available, use the resources we can find, and make the best choices we can. When something doesn't work, we adjust. When something works, we exhale, and hope it keeps working for a while.
Giftedness is stereotypically associated pride and arrogance. I would argue that terror is as common. Wishing you many nights of deep, calm sleep - free of nightmares.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Night at the Museum - we are not mainstream, but we have lots of fun!!!!
Over the holiday break, I was watching Night at the Museum, and M walked by it. She is getting old enough to watch those, but still prefers animated movies, in general. She asked if it was an adult movie, and I said she could watch it, but watching from the beginning would be better.
She had a hard time tearing herself away, but we agree to watch it from the beginning later, after some father-daughter wrestling time, which is extremely silly & completely cherished.
We made the movie a family affair, and she had a lot of fun watching the animals, which I could have predicted. However, there were reactions that I did not anticipate from her.
Theodore Roosevelt explains who he was as president, and she seemed impassive. Sacajawea, I thought would get her attention. She was completely unaware of Lewis & Clark as well as Sacajawea. I paused the movie and explained briefly.
This made me realize that while our sequential approach to history will help her have a better grasp of the overall timeline & progressions, it leads to her being unaware of the United States quite a bit longer. After all, in the scheme of human history, it is quite a young nation.
The miniatures scene got M very excited. "Octavius?! As in, Emperor Octavius? I'm so excited to see real Romans fighting!" This caught me a bit off guard. Yes, I knew she loved the Roman history, but I was still surprised at her reaction to the laughable and entertaining character in the movie.
As I was processing that, she burst out with, "Attila the Hun?! YES!!!!!!!!!" jumping up and down. Her father & I were shooting private looks at each other, realizing just how confusing it was to learn history jumping around, and marveling at how different her experience is from the typical school child's.
We are continuing the sequential history approach of Biblioplan curriculum, and still believe in its efficacy for M, at least. I wish I had learned that way. She is learning about so many facets of life in the different times, as well as how the changes affected various groups. We are using novels set in those times, as well, so she really immerses herself in that time, and she is writing essays and letters as if she were living through the experiences. She likes it, and so she soaks it up. Fun makes effective learning, after all.
In the meantime, the standardized tests will continue to indicate that she has very little political science understanding for her age. I laugh and disagree. She may be unaware of the parts they are teaching her same-aged counterparts in the schools, but I maintain that her understanding is stronger, and that she knows a great deal about political science. In fact, she can carry on an intelligent conversation with a teacher who specializes Medieval and Middle Ages history and point out facts that I was not aware of until those conversations occurs. To further stretch my abilities to parent, her observation in that particular conversation has political, military & theological significance. Yikes! I am not pushing her. I am getting dragged along behind her, while trying to maintain my footing!
What is my point? Well, we were reminded that we are not mainstream. I am okay with that.
No. I am more than okay with that. I am excited that M is learning deeply and having fun simultaneously. I am glad she is learning history sequentially and knows that the US is a very small part of the timeline. I am glad that she doesn't learn history from a self-importance slant, as I believe most countries teach it in their schools, including the US.
I cannot help but smile as I watch her in her different ways. Neither can her father. We are not mainstream. We are happy. I wonder if mainstream people are generally happy . . . I delight in things different . . . Happy New Year. As Amy Adams as Amelia says at the end of Battle of the Smithsonian (the sequel to Night at the Museum), "Have fun."
She had a hard time tearing herself away, but we agree to watch it from the beginning later, after some father-daughter wrestling time, which is extremely silly & completely cherished.
We made the movie a family affair, and she had a lot of fun watching the animals, which I could have predicted. However, there were reactions that I did not anticipate from her.
Theodore Roosevelt explains who he was as president, and she seemed impassive. Sacajawea, I thought would get her attention. She was completely unaware of Lewis & Clark as well as Sacajawea. I paused the movie and explained briefly.
This made me realize that while our sequential approach to history will help her have a better grasp of the overall timeline & progressions, it leads to her being unaware of the United States quite a bit longer. After all, in the scheme of human history, it is quite a young nation.
The miniatures scene got M very excited. "Octavius?! As in, Emperor Octavius? I'm so excited to see real Romans fighting!" This caught me a bit off guard. Yes, I knew she loved the Roman history, but I was still surprised at her reaction to the laughable and entertaining character in the movie.
As I was processing that, she burst out with, "Attila the Hun?! YES!!!!!!!!!" jumping up and down. Her father & I were shooting private looks at each other, realizing just how confusing it was to learn history jumping around, and marveling at how different her experience is from the typical school child's.
We are continuing the sequential history approach of Biblioplan curriculum, and still believe in its efficacy for M, at least. I wish I had learned that way. She is learning about so many facets of life in the different times, as well as how the changes affected various groups. We are using novels set in those times, as well, so she really immerses herself in that time, and she is writing essays and letters as if she were living through the experiences. She likes it, and so she soaks it up. Fun makes effective learning, after all.
In the meantime, the standardized tests will continue to indicate that she has very little political science understanding for her age. I laugh and disagree. She may be unaware of the parts they are teaching her same-aged counterparts in the schools, but I maintain that her understanding is stronger, and that she knows a great deal about political science. In fact, she can carry on an intelligent conversation with a teacher who specializes Medieval and Middle Ages history and point out facts that I was not aware of until those conversations occurs. To further stretch my abilities to parent, her observation in that particular conversation has political, military & theological significance. Yikes! I am not pushing her. I am getting dragged along behind her, while trying to maintain my footing!
What is my point? Well, we were reminded that we are not mainstream. I am okay with that.
No. I am more than okay with that. I am excited that M is learning deeply and having fun simultaneously. I am glad she is learning history sequentially and knows that the US is a very small part of the timeline. I am glad that she doesn't learn history from a self-importance slant, as I believe most countries teach it in their schools, including the US.
I cannot help but smile as I watch her in her different ways. Neither can her father. We are not mainstream. We are happy. I wonder if mainstream people are generally happy . . . I delight in things different . . . Happy New Year. As Amy Adams as Amelia says at the end of Battle of the Smithsonian (the sequel to Night at the Museum), "Have fun."
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