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Rare, Valuable, and Lost

Ketelee­ria tree stolen from the Wash­ing­ton Park Arboretum

Last week a tree was cut down in Seat­tle and is prob­a­bly now sit­ting in someone’s liv­ing room, wrapped in lights, fes­tooned with glit­ter­ing orna­ments, and draped in tin­sel. This would not be much of a story, espe­cially in Decem­ber, except for the fact that the tree in ques­tion was an exceed­ingly rare spec­i­men of Ketelee­ria eve­ly­ni­ana, a conifer native to China, that had been trans­planted ten years ago to the Wash­ing­ton Park Arbore­tum. The staff arrived on Decem­ber 9 to dis­cover that overnight some­one, pre­sum­ably look­ing for a free hol­i­day dec­o­ra­tion, had removed the tree.

Asked about its appear­ance dur­ing an inter­view on NPR, the plant col­lec­tions man­ager for the Arbore­tum, Ran­dall Hitchin, said, “In gen­eral aspect, it looks like a conifer: tall, dark green, sym­met­ri­cal.” Sort of like your run-​​of-​​the-​​mill Christ­mas tree? “In the dark,” Hitchin replied.

Gifted chil­dren can be like the K. eve­ly­ni­ana. To an untrained eye, or to those who don’t know the dif­fer­ence (or care to know, as in the case of the tree thief), most gifted kids look like your typ­i­cal, run-​​of-​​the-​​mill kid. In a class­room of stu­dents, it is often easy to miss the unique qual­i­ties that make them stand out, that make them rare specimens.

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What To Do When Your Child Says “I’m Bored”

In my job as a gifted teacher, par­ents often come to me with con­cerns about their chil­dren hav­ing appro­pri­ate learn­ing expe­ri­ences in school. Many times, the first clue that a stu­dent is bright or gifted and needs extra chal­lenge is when he or she says, “I’m bored.”

As adults, when we are in a learn­ing sit­u­a­tion that’s bor­ing, it is often because the con­tent is some­thing we already know and don’t need to prac­tice more.

It’s impor­tant for us as par­ents to remem­ber that chil­dren often don’t have the vocab­u­lary or intro­spec­tive abil­ity to explain what they are feel­ing, so they may fall back on “bor­ing” as the clos­est approx­i­ma­tion. They also may not under­stand the root causes of their feel­ings to be able to describe for you where they are com­ing from.

Cer­tainly stu­dents will be bored when the work they are asked to do is too easy and they have already mas­tered it, and it is one of the first things we need to con­sider. But there are many other things that might be con­tribut­ing to the feel­ing that a child asso­ciates with bore­dom. When a child says, “I’m bored…,” it could also mean…

  • The work is too hard
  • The work isn’t inter­est­ing to me
  • The work is…work
  • I’m afraid I can’t do it
  • I don’t like the subject
  • I don’t like the assignment
  • I don’t like the teacher
  • I don’t like my classmates
  • I don’t understand
  • I don’t want to understand
  • I’m tired
  • I’m dis­tracted
  • I’m pre­oc­cu­pied
  • I’m uncom­fort­able
  • I’m angry about some­thing that hap­pened this morning
  • I’m wor­ried about some­thing that might hap­pen tomorrow
  • I’d rather be at recess
  • I’d rather be at home
  • I’d rather be at the movies/​pool/​park/​etc.

If we are too quick to assume that “bored” always means “too easy,” then it won’t take long for our chil­dren to learn that when they don’t like doing some­thing, just say­ing those magic words will make it go away

It’s up to us, then, to be sure we don’t take this kind of state­ment at imme­di­ate face value. Instead, ask ques­tions and probe deeper into the sit­u­a­tion to find out more about what is going on and why. Then we will have the infor­ma­tion we need to address the prob­lem and fix it.

(Orig­i­nally posted June 5, 2008 at Grandé With Room)

Keeping Kids Focused

Various doodles drawn during an afternoon math...
Image via Wikipedia

A sce­nario with which you are prob­a­bly famil­iar: You are giv­ing direc­tions for an upcom­ing project, or explain­ing a com­plex math con­cept, or lead­ing a dis­cus­sion about the story the class just read in the read­ing book. Dozens of eyes are focused in your direc­tion as the stu­dents hang on your every word. You glance to the left, where you see one of your gifted stu­dents, eyes down, pen­cil drift­ing lazily across the page of her note­book in elab­o­rate, abstract swirls and angles. Inter­rupt­ing your speech, you call her name. She looks up, you ask her to put the pen­cil and note­book away and pay atten­tion, she com­plies, and you go on, con­fi­dent that she is now engaged in the impor­tant stuff.

Most of us have been in that posi­tion. I’m cer­tain, though, that you can recall more than once in class (or as likely, grad­u­ate school) being where that stu­dent was.

Why do we doo­dle? It is entirely pos­si­ble that by mak­ing your stu­dents stop doo­dling, you are actu­ally harm­ing their abil­ity to focus on what you’re teach­ing. A report about this on NPR last week has some inter­est­ing impli­ca­tions for teach­ers of gifted stu­dents. Jackie Andrade, a psy­chol­ogy pro­fes­sor at the Uni­ver­sity of Ply­mouth, has stud­ied doo­dling and its effects, and found that it is a cop­ing mech­a­nism that peo­ple use to give their brains some­thing to process when they are not being suf­fi­ciently stim­u­lated:

If you look at people’s brain func­tion when they’re bored, we find that they are using a lot of energy — their brains are very active,” Andrade says. The rea­son, she explains, is that the brain is designed to con­stantly process infor­ma­tion. But when the brain finds an envi­ron­ment bar­ren of stim­u­lat­ing information…the brain [typ­i­cally] turns to day­dreams.… The func­tion of doodling…is to pro­vide just enough cog­ni­tive stim­u­la­tion dur­ing an oth­er­wise bor­ing task to pre­vent the mind from tak­ing the more rad­i­cal step of totally opt­ing out of the sit­u­a­tion and run­ning off into a fan­tasy world.


Your gifted stu­dents, whose brains are gen­er­ally already in a higher gear than the rest of the class, prob­a­bly find them­selves in this low-​​stimulation state fre­quently. So before you ask your kids to put away the pen­cils, con­sider that they may actu­ally be pay­ing more atten­tion than the ones with noth­ing else to do.

But even more, con­sider the pos­si­bil­ity of being proac­tive in your approach:

  • When­ever pos­si­ble, plan high-​​engagement and high-​​stimulation activities
  • Give your stu­dents scratch pads or paper and allow them to keep them out at all times
  • Switch modes fre­quently to keep the brain alert
  • When stu­dents doo­dle, don’t take it personally
  • Look for cues that you need to take breaks or shift gears

Under­stand­ing the brain and rec­og­niz­ing the out­ward signs of what it is doing will help you stay in tune with your stu­dents and meet their needs more eas­ily. And the next time you’re in a fac­ulty meet­ing, glance around and see how many of your col­leagues are keep­ing their brains occupied.

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Dinner Table Differentiation

My youngest son has some very spe­cific food preferences—think “Mikey” from the old Life cereal com­mer­cials. Mean­ing that most of the time, when we sit down at the din­ner table, the first words out of his mouth are, “I don’t like that.” My wife and I have slightly dif­fer­ent views on how to han­dle this. Often, she will make some­thing spe­cial for him just so that he’ll eat. That’s what moms do, espe­cially an Ital­ian one. My view more often than not is that he’s just being overly picky and he can eat what we put in front of him.

Now before you start writ­ing your com­ment chastis­ing me for being a cruel dad, most of the time when we insist he taste what we’ve made, he likes it and will eat it. And he has yet to go to bed hun­gry. So my wife and I actu­ally bal­ance each other nicely. Don’t tell her I said that, though.

My atti­tude towards my son’s eat­ing habits would change, though, if it were a mat­ter of health and nutri­tion rather than pref­er­ence. If he had a con­di­tion that required a spe­cific diet, I would go out of my way to pro­vide it, even going so far as to cook spe­cial meals for him. I would give him sup­ple­ments to replace defi­cien­cies in his body and keep the nutri­ents at opti­mum levels.

We tend to treat edu­ca­tion like nutri­tion. The reg­u­lar cur­ricu­lum is designed around the rec­om­mended daily allowance of read­ing, math, sci­ence and social stud­ies. The con­tent is nutri­tion, and we pro­vide the amounts that are needed to keep children’s brains grow­ing and learn­ing. Some stu­dents have defi­cien­cies, and we spend extra time, effort, and money to cus­tomize their diets to bring them back to opti­mal health.

But what about the gifted stu­dents? I fear that many peo­ple look at them in the same way as the child who likes to eat a lot. We’re wor­ried that if they eat too much, they’ll get fat, so we care­fully reg­u­late their diets, keep­ing them to the rec­om­mended amounts, mak­ing sure they don’t go over­board. It’s the same thing my wife and I do when our kids equate being bored with being hun­gry. Instead of giv­ing them snacks every half hour, we redi­rect them and give them some­thing else to keep them occupied.

But this model is wrong. Instead of look­ing at gifted kids as overeaters, we need to real­ize that they actu­ally have an entirely dif­fer­ent kind of metab­o­lism. They con­sume more not just out of pref­er­ence but out of neces­sity. They have a con­di­tion that requires much higher amounts of com­plex and dif­fer­ent nutri­ents just to stay healthy. But when they balk at eat­ing the same diet we’re giv­ing to the rest of the fam­ily, we tend to see them as whiny brats and respond just as I do to my youngest son: “It’s good for you. Just eat it. And if you clean your plate, then you can have dessert.”

It’s not a mat­ter of keep­ing their appetites under con­trol. It’s rec­og­niz­ing that their nutri­tional needs are com­pletely dif­fer­ent than ours. The learn­ing they crave isn’t dessert, and forc­ing them to eat the meal first doesn’t keep them healthy. With­hold­ing the chal­leng­ing con­tent, or keep­ing it care­fully con­trolled, or ignor­ing the mes­sages they give us about what they want and need isn’t actu­ally pre­vent­ing obe­sity, it’s malnutrition.

Managing Perfectionists

Accord­ing to Tom Green­spon, a fam­ily ther­a­pist and expert on per­fec­tion­ism, teach­ers and par­ents need to under­stand four key things about per­fec­tion­ism:

  1. Per­fec­tion­ism is emo­tional. It can be a vicious cycle for the per­fec­tion­ist: mak­ing a mis­take causes fear, which makes the stu­dent want to be even more per­fect, lead­ing to anx­i­ety which causes more mistakes.
  2. Per­fec­tion­ism is social. Per­fec­tion­ists may feel that they won’t be accepted unless they are perfect.
  3. Per­fec­tion­ism doesn’t make peo­ple more suc­cess­ful. It is not the same things as striv­ing for excellence.
  4. The envi­ron­ment influ­ences per­fec­tion­ism. Per­fec­tion­ist behav­ior may be learned from the behav­ior of oth­ers around them. A chaotic envi­ron­ment also con­tributes to feel­ings of need­ing to be perfect.

Here are a few thoughts, then, on how teach­ers can deal with per­fec­tion­ists in their classrooms:

  • Cre­ate an envi­ron­ment of accep­tance. Avoid “zero-​​tolerance” poli­cies in your class­room. Pro­vide sec­ond chances when­ever appro­pri­ate. Set high, rea­son­able expec­ta­tions, but show under­stand­ing and accep­tance when stu­dents inevitably don’t meet them. Focus on pos­i­tive char­ac­ter qual­i­ties in each child rather than on shortfalls.
  • Cel­e­brate imper­fec­tion. Let stu­dents know that not only are mis­takes are nor­mal, they are expected and even essen­tial to the learn­ing process. When a stu­dent makes a mis­take, cel­e­brate the effort, or point out any good think­ing that went into it. Tell sto­ries about learn­ing that hap­pened because of a mis­take, and point out that school is a place for learn­ing, not for per­form­ing. Give each stu­dent a “mis­take pass” to allow them to make an error any time with­out penalty. Or maybe give them two. Give stu­dents full credit for a mis­take if they can tell what they learned from it.
  • Allow play time. Gifted chil­dren are still chil­dren, and let­ting stu­dents play with­out a spe­cific goal allows them to explore thoughts and ideas with­out the pres­sure to per­form. As any Kinder­garten teacher will tell you, a great deal of learn­ing takes place dur­ing unstruc­tured play, and it is just as true for older stu­dents. The form of the play will look dif­fer­ent: gifted stu­dents in upper ele­men­tary and beyond will play with ideas, words, and images, and num­bers. Let it be what it is; don’t try to force it into an aca­d­e­mic box.
  • Show your own flaws. We’re not talk­ing about air­ing dirty laun­dry, here. Just let stu­dents see that you aren’t per­fect your­self, and give your­self the same sec­ond chances that you give stu­dents. Make mis­takes in class (delib­er­ately if nec­es­sary) and allow stu­dents to cor­rect you with­out penalty.

What else do you do to help your per­fec­tion­ists loosen up a little?