Through the whole of my time as a university undergrad, even while I went to classes day after day that were supposed to be teaching me how to be an educator, I had serious problems with the education system. Traditional schools, I thought, failed to respect their students, failed to be relevant, and often failed to even educate. At the same time, my seemingly unrelated interest in teaching the gifted grew. About a year ago, I started thinking seriously about starting my own school for gifted children, and in the last few months, as I've learned more about democratic education, I've started to figure out what it's going to look like.
Gifted education and democratic education have a lot to teach each other. But first, there are some unpleasantries to get out of the way.
Democratic education, like traditional education, can have a bit of an "equality" fixation. I recently read an article by John Taylor Gatto, an author who's written a number of books on democratic and alternative schooling, in which he claims that the very existence of gifted children is a "myth". It makes sense, in a way; traditional schools like to tout the notion of equality, but rarely act on it (continuums of age, academic performance, social skill, athletic skill, etc create vast inequalities within a traditional school). Democratic schools, meanwhile, operate like democratic societies, and when they function properly, every person in the community is indeed equal. But "equal", people must often be reminded, does not mean "equivalent". While democratic schools may value a wider range of talents than traditional schools, and may provide such diverse opportunities for growth and learning that each person is better able to reach their potential and become both happy and recognized, it is still fact that some individuals are more intelligent than others, and that some have intellectual gifts so great that they create a special educational need. And in a society which truly prizes equality, a special need – such as giftedness – must be respected; to refuse to meet such a need would be to relegate the individual in question to a sort of underclass. Even the communists didn't say "to each the same"; they said "to each according to need".
Gifted education, on the other hand, seems to be rather stuck in an institutional way of doing things. Parents of gifted children often consider homeschooling and other alternatives, but gifted educators are intent on doing everything under the roof of the current system. Maybe it's an aversion to the possibility of losing the baby with the metaphorical bathwater, maybe it's a subtle admission of defeat, but gifted teaching methods are always designed to fit within schools as they stand now. And yet, we know that, as badly as traditional schools work for the average child, the situation is a thousand times worse for a gifted child. We say they need a completely different style of education, but whenever we set up a supposedly tailored learning environment for them, we mine the old system for horrid ideas and carry over classrooms, traditional authoritarian teacher-student relationships, antiquated administrative structures, rigid class schedules, compulsory curricula, and coercive punishment/reward systems. I would submit there's no danger in throwing out the bathwater carelessly if the baby has already drowned.
So with the possible disagreements between these two unwanted stepchildren of education out of the way, forward then to the many ways in which gifted education and democratic education can be happily united.
To start, gifted children are the perfect self-directed learners. They have deep interests, pursue knowledge with enthusiasm and energy, and have a great capacity for self-teaching. They tend to choose educational activities, even if the term "educational activity" is defined according to traditional "academic" standards rather than expanded to experiential learning. In many schools and programs for the gifted, students are given opportunities to complete independent projects, take college classes, or find mentors to learn new skills, but this is all within the traditional school structure of bells, blackboards, and asking permission to empty one's bladder. If we trust these children enough to pursue their own independent research, and admit they possess the intelligence to study material that would normally be considered years beyond them, surely we can trust them to structure their own time. And for the question of determining what they learn, the same argument applies that applies to placing any child in a democratic setting: in the average school, the last year of education from which a child will use everything they learn no matter their later path in life is third grade. Once you internalize that fact, there's not much can convince you of the necessity of forcing young people to fill their heads (temporarily, as we all know) with information of others' choosing.
A democratic environment also suits gifted children's unique social and emotional needs. Gifted children, when they misbehave, do so for exactly one reason: someone isn't respecting their abilities. They may be feeling sidelined, or as though adults aren't listening, or just plain bored. One of the things that sets democratic schooling apart from traditional schooling is its climate of respect. Nobody is sidelined, adults always listen, and if a child is bored, he can just choose to do something different. It's more than their academic abilities gifted kids need to see recognized, though. As I recently discussed on the Davidson Gifted Issues boards, any child (or adult!) who feels they're being unjustly expected to obey and conform will rebel, and we have a stereotype of this happening the teenage years because this is when a person's moral reasoning, sense of self, and ideas about what's right and fair in a relationship between two human beings all begin to solidify – but with gifted kids, those things can all come much sooner, sometimes so soon that the child in question is unable to articulate the ideas and emotions they're dealing with. Rebellion and despondency are the two possible roads at that point. In a democratic school, ideas about obedience and conformity are replaced with freedom, individuality, and community.
It is also important to note that an unusually high fraction of democratic school attendees go on to post-secondary education, and that the vast majority of those view their democratic education as a benefit to their pursuit of further studies. Far from being hamstrung by her lack of years of experience at sitting behind desks practicing using her listening ears, that budding neuroscientist will most likely find herself better-prepared for the responsibility and freedom of college academics from experiences in a student-driven learning environment.
So, with all that going around in my head, you can expect that in five or ten years' time, I will be starting up a democratic learning center for gifted and talented children. I don't have a name for it yet, but I might've found a motto: "The wisest men follow their own direction." –Euripides.
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Lies They Told Me in College0 comments |
It's interesting how, even when you think it's airtight, so much can still slip through your BS filter.
I never took much my education professors said for granted. I knew most of them had political agendas that informed most of what they taught, agendas which usually didn't match up with mine - for most of them numbered among the "educators" who would like nothing better than to see gifted programs ground into dust as punishment for their supposed inequity. I didn't believe them, for example, when they told me of the supposed worthlessness and bias of IQ testing; when they told me the academic world was staunchly and unanimously aligned against the whole concept of IQ; when they tried to ram Howard Gardner's ridiculous suggestion that grace, poise, and a love of butterflies should be considered facets of intelligence down my throat. I went out and found the research for myself - the research that found, despite the Sledgehammers of Equality's cries of unfairness, that IQ scores were the single greatest predictor of school achievement, educational attainment, job success, crime, poverty, marital happiness, and even physical health.
Well, I should've done the same when they talked to me about "heterogeneous grouping".
The concept, as it was put to me, is as follows: intentionally grouping students so that each group contains the maximum possible range of ability levels is educationally beneficial. Lower-ability students are helped by their peers, while high-ability students cement their knowledge by helping others to understand. On the surface, it makes sense, to a point; it is true that one of the surest ways to make sure you understand something is to explain it to someone else. But a part of me always wondered whether the whole thing was worthwhile nonetheless. Seems I should have looked into it, rather than take the enormous emphasis my professors placed on the concept as support of its rightness, because I've just opened the textbook for my upcoming course, Introduction to Talent Development, and found this gem on page 13:
I never took much my education professors said for granted. I knew most of them had political agendas that informed most of what they taught, agendas which usually didn't match up with mine - for most of them numbered among the "educators" who would like nothing better than to see gifted programs ground into dust as punishment for their supposed inequity. I didn't believe them, for example, when they told me of the supposed worthlessness and bias of IQ testing; when they told me the academic world was staunchly and unanimously aligned against the whole concept of IQ; when they tried to ram Howard Gardner's ridiculous suggestion that grace, poise, and a love of butterflies should be considered facets of intelligence down my throat. I went out and found the research for myself - the research that found, despite the Sledgehammers of Equality's cries of unfairness, that IQ scores were the single greatest predictor of school achievement, educational attainment, job success, crime, poverty, marital happiness, and even physical health.
Well, I should've done the same when they talked to me about "heterogeneous grouping".
The concept, as it was put to me, is as follows: intentionally grouping students so that each group contains the maximum possible range of ability levels is educationally beneficial. Lower-ability students are helped by their peers, while high-ability students cement their knowledge by helping others to understand. On the surface, it makes sense, to a point; it is true that one of the surest ways to make sure you understand something is to explain it to someone else. But a part of me always wondered whether the whole thing was worthwhile nonetheless. Seems I should have looked into it, rather than take the enormous emphasis my professors placed on the concept as support of its rightness, because I've just opened the textbook for my upcoming course, Introduction to Talent Development, and found this gem on page 13:
Students grouped in lower- and middle-level tracks learn the same amount as equivalent pupils do in mixed classes. However, 'students in the top classes in [ability-grouped] programs outperform equivalent pupils from mixed classes' [...] The achievement of low-ability students has not been harmed by homogeneous grouping, but the even more important conclusion [...] is that there are, absolutely, losses in achievement test scores when gifted students are regrouped heterogeneously."
There's a chart on the next page showing the effect sizes of various methods of homogeneous grouping, showing that gifted students grouped together learn 33-78% more, depending on the particular structure used. Interestingly, nongraded schools also show a 38% gain for gifted students. The authors also suggest that cooperative learning experiences, even with other students of similar abilities, are not as valuable to gifted children as they are to mainstream learners.
Furthermore, flying in the face of everything my professors said about "self-esteem", this text points out that low- and middle-ability students often feel better about themselves and increase their effort and participation when they are not faced with the overpowering presence of gifted students. In other words, children will more readily compare themselves unfavorably to the more intelligent people in the room with them every minute than to the class of more intelligent people down the hall, who they may never interact with in an academic setting. Not only is this staggeringly logical, but I've seen it quite clearly in my own class: when one of my girls, whose giftedness is obvious to everyone even though her parents don't want it spoken about (!!), is out of the room, my three boys are all significantly better behaved and more focused. (Yes, I have a very small class - six chilren. They're wonderful, and you should never let me start talking about them unless you have a whole afternoon to devote to listening.)
There's nothing like a new perspective - especially a new perspective on something you've already had nagging doubts about for years. A few cogently reasoned paragraphs were all it took to jump-start my methodic doubt (see this earlier post), and I've realized that nothing I was taught at uni about how to "properly" group students actually makes sense. I wonder what else they got past me....
The book, if you're interested, is Education of the Gifted and Talented by Davis, Rimm, and Siegle - I won't bother to name the individual researchers cited in the passage I quoted as there were quite a number of them.
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"Defective"0 comments |
A proper post will be up soon, now that I'm finished my Masters coursework for the semester and have some free time (!!), but in the meantime, I'd like to share a short film I created for my course on Creativity. It tells the story of a young robot named Calvin who, due to a programming "defect", has the capacity for creative thought, unlike the other robots in his world.
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The Social Structure of Schools3 comments |
A member of the Davidson Gifted Issues forum recently posted this thought:
I think it was Descartes who advocated "methodic doubt", the removal of assumptions and the acceptance of only information that can be verified as true. The organization of school along social, age-determined lines – particularly at the primary level – is so basic to modern education that its rightness has become one of those things no one seems to feel they have the right to doubt. And yet, I wonder whether anyone has ever bothered trying to prove that it is right.
The reason schools in modern societies are age-segregated is quite simple: the overall societies are age-segregated. Most people seem to think of age as a natural demographic by which to separate people (personally, I suspect this emerges from the same "us-them" instinct that provides the evolutionary basis for racism and sexism, and I find it interesting that ageism is still socially acceptable). For the most egregious example, consider the fact that a person can, simply by virtue of being a single day short of his eighteenth birthday, be denied basic legal rights, property ownership, the protection of the Bill of Rights, even the respect of being considered capable of taking responsibility for his own actions. And somehow, the next morning, all of that changes.
When you have a society of which age-based rules are a ubiquitous fixture, it's hard to think about organizing schools any other way. Add to that the fact that so many people seem to think self-esteem is more important than education - what about the children who would, in a system organized around individual academic progress, leave school at 20 instead of 18? Sure, they might be better educated, more well-rounded, generally better people for it, but they might feel bad about themselves because they're older. Shockhorror.
Furthermore, the institutional nature of modern schooling pretty much precludes the possibility of individual pacing because once you're in a class, you're moving at the same pace as the other students you're with. No teacher can provide differentiated instruction for every child in a class of thirty. And it's simply unfeasible to begin bumping students up a level each term and have them learning in a series of leaps and plateaus.
Put all this together and the suggestion that we move students through school at an individually determined intellectually appropriate pace comes to border on heresy.
Don't get me wrong; I love the idea. But it would require not just a massive rethinking but a massive restructuring of education. Timetables and educational programs would have to be fluid and individual rather than regimented with exceptions for special cases. Classes would have to be smaller to make proper differentiation possible. Actually, hold on a minute; classes are social units. Supposedly moving toward a common academic goal, yes, but they're artificial social units that impose artificial social conditions. A school with truly academic goals would dump the whole idea. The school day would be based on independent exploration and one-on-one or small-group teaching.
When I started writing this entry, I didn't think such a school existed. It turns out I was wrong, and I invite you to take a look at the Sudbury Valley School, a successful school in Massachusetts that has become a model for several dozen others around the world. At Sudbury Valley, education is individual and self-initiated. Children learn what, how, and when they want to learn, and staff members act as mentors and helpers, guiding students through projects of mutual interest. There is no grouping by age. Children as young as five are given complete control over their own education. It's the kind of situation that would terrify most adults and the average teacher would probably liken to some grotesque form of child abuse, and yet 90% of Sudbury graduates go on to university, with many becoming entrepreneurs or ending up in other jobs that require initiative and creativity as well as a strong educational foundation.
Which is proof, to go back to my initial point, that at the very least structuring schools socially isn't the only way to do things. Yet the majority of adults continue to feel it is the proper way, the best way, for one reason or another – the optimist in me wants to say "because that's what they know", while the cynic wants to say "because it lets them remain in control". Either way, they are wrong. It should be common sense that the purpose of school is to meet the intellectual needs of each individual student. Until the day that it is, at least we have options outside the public school system.
The whole concept of "acceleration" depends on acceptance of the premise that school should be organized around social education and not around intellectual education. […] Does it stem from the fact that we have a certain age for starting school--they all start at the same time, therefore they should all be in the same place for the rest of their education?
I think it was Descartes who advocated "methodic doubt", the removal of assumptions and the acceptance of only information that can be verified as true. The organization of school along social, age-determined lines – particularly at the primary level – is so basic to modern education that its rightness has become one of those things no one seems to feel they have the right to doubt. And yet, I wonder whether anyone has ever bothered trying to prove that it is right.
The reason schools in modern societies are age-segregated is quite simple: the overall societies are age-segregated. Most people seem to think of age as a natural demographic by which to separate people (personally, I suspect this emerges from the same "us-them" instinct that provides the evolutionary basis for racism and sexism, and I find it interesting that ageism is still socially acceptable). For the most egregious example, consider the fact that a person can, simply by virtue of being a single day short of his eighteenth birthday, be denied basic legal rights, property ownership, the protection of the Bill of Rights, even the respect of being considered capable of taking responsibility for his own actions. And somehow, the next morning, all of that changes.
When you have a society of which age-based rules are a ubiquitous fixture, it's hard to think about organizing schools any other way. Add to that the fact that so many people seem to think self-esteem is more important than education - what about the children who would, in a system organized around individual academic progress, leave school at 20 instead of 18? Sure, they might be better educated, more well-rounded, generally better people for it, but they might feel bad about themselves because they're older. Shockhorror.
Furthermore, the institutional nature of modern schooling pretty much precludes the possibility of individual pacing because once you're in a class, you're moving at the same pace as the other students you're with. No teacher can provide differentiated instruction for every child in a class of thirty. And it's simply unfeasible to begin bumping students up a level each term and have them learning in a series of leaps and plateaus.
Put all this together and the suggestion that we move students through school at an individually determined intellectually appropriate pace comes to border on heresy.
Don't get me wrong; I love the idea. But it would require not just a massive rethinking but a massive restructuring of education. Timetables and educational programs would have to be fluid and individual rather than regimented with exceptions for special cases. Classes would have to be smaller to make proper differentiation possible. Actually, hold on a minute; classes are social units. Supposedly moving toward a common academic goal, yes, but they're artificial social units that impose artificial social conditions. A school with truly academic goals would dump the whole idea. The school day would be based on independent exploration and one-on-one or small-group teaching.
When I started writing this entry, I didn't think such a school existed. It turns out I was wrong, and I invite you to take a look at the Sudbury Valley School, a successful school in Massachusetts that has become a model for several dozen others around the world. At Sudbury Valley, education is individual and self-initiated. Children learn what, how, and when they want to learn, and staff members act as mentors and helpers, guiding students through projects of mutual interest. There is no grouping by age. Children as young as five are given complete control over their own education. It's the kind of situation that would terrify most adults and the average teacher would probably liken to some grotesque form of child abuse, and yet 90% of Sudbury graduates go on to university, with many becoming entrepreneurs or ending up in other jobs that require initiative and creativity as well as a strong educational foundation.
Which is proof, to go back to my initial point, that at the very least structuring schools socially isn't the only way to do things. Yet the majority of adults continue to feel it is the proper way, the best way, for one reason or another – the optimist in me wants to say "because that's what they know", while the cynic wants to say "because it lets them remain in control". Either way, they are wrong. It should be common sense that the purpose of school is to meet the intellectual needs of each individual student. Until the day that it is, at least we have options outside the public school system.
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Five Stupid Things People Say About Gifted Children (And Why They're Stupid)0 comments |
"Gifted children should be smart enough to keep themselves under control."
As I once wrote on the Davidson Institute gifted message boards, this is like giving a university professor a job on an assembly line and telling him that someone with a PhD is obviously smart enough to keep himself from getting bored. Refusing to meet a child's educational needs is bad enough, and gives him every right to rebel; to then insist that this very unmet need should preclude such rebellious behavior is adding callous insult to grievous educational injury. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a gifted child's behavioral issues will disappear when they finally find themselves in an educational situation that is of some benefit to them.
"This child can’t be gifted because his/her grades aren’t high enough."
Students with special needs aren't denied the services they need because their grades are too high; why should gifted students be denied services because their grades are too low? Like visual impairment or a learning disability, being gifted is a defined, measured special educational need which is independent of academic success. Intelligence also does not change, barring major brain damage; a gifted child remains gifted, and fluctuations in academic performance are the effect of another variable (most likely the onset of total mind-numbing boredom).
"The easy kids."
I remember the first time someone accused me of wanting to work with "the easy kids". At the time, I didn't know nearly as much about teaching the gifted as I do now, but I still knew he was off his rocker.
Are gifted children generally better behaved than others? If their educational needs are being met, then on average, yes. But if we consider for one second the fact that the primary job of a teacher is not riot control but education, it becomes obvious that gifted students are in fact some of the most difficult to teach. An ordinary teacher spends 1/3 of every year doing review lessons, which the vast majority of gifted students do not gain anything from. The material covered by that ordinary teacher in the other 2/3 of the year can be absorbed by gifted students in a few weeks. This means that a gifted teacher has to present, at a minimum, roughly fifteen times as much material as an ordinary teacher. In addition, because of their students' superior higher-level thinking skills, gifted teachers must cover every topic in much greater depth, meaning they themselves have to have deeper knowledge and understanding of the subject areas involved – and they usually end up teaching all subject areas. Easy?
"It wouldn't be good for him/her socially."
Of the statements on this list, this is the one you're most likely to encounter in the wild. That's because most highly effective accommodations for gifted students – especially full or single-subject grade acceleration – have for years been assumed to be socially detrimental. It is, at this point, a proven fact that this is not correct; dozens of studies have been done on the social effects of acceleration, and to my knowledge not one has found it to cause any damage to a child's social development or status. In fact, the reverse is often true, since remaining in a classroom filled with one's intellectual inferiors does nothing to promote socialization. When a child is reading Twelfth Night and her classmates are struggling with The Very Hungry Caterpillar, how interested do you think she is in talking to them?
"Every child is gifted in their own way."
This statement is the most dangerous on this list, because it subtly destroys all rationale for making gifted programs available. If everyone is gifted, then giftedness is no longer a special educational need, and gifted services are unnecessary.
This is usually said by people who have no idea what "gifted" actually means, though on rare occasions it's simply a product of immense self-delusion. "Gifted" isn't some nebulous quality like "special"; it's defined and quantifiable. In most jurisdictions that I know of, it's defined as an IQ two standard deviations above the norm. Regardless of the precise definition in use, "gifted" refers to a specific population with specific needs, just like "special education" – and as a term and a group, deserves the same respect.
As I once wrote on the Davidson Institute gifted message boards, this is like giving a university professor a job on an assembly line and telling him that someone with a PhD is obviously smart enough to keep himself from getting bored. Refusing to meet a child's educational needs is bad enough, and gives him every right to rebel; to then insist that this very unmet need should preclude such rebellious behavior is adding callous insult to grievous educational injury. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a gifted child's behavioral issues will disappear when they finally find themselves in an educational situation that is of some benefit to them.
"This child can’t be gifted because his/her grades aren’t high enough."
Students with special needs aren't denied the services they need because their grades are too high; why should gifted students be denied services because their grades are too low? Like visual impairment or a learning disability, being gifted is a defined, measured special educational need which is independent of academic success. Intelligence also does not change, barring major brain damage; a gifted child remains gifted, and fluctuations in academic performance are the effect of another variable (most likely the onset of total mind-numbing boredom).
"The easy kids."
I remember the first time someone accused me of wanting to work with "the easy kids". At the time, I didn't know nearly as much about teaching the gifted as I do now, but I still knew he was off his rocker.
Are gifted children generally better behaved than others? If their educational needs are being met, then on average, yes. But if we consider for one second the fact that the primary job of a teacher is not riot control but education, it becomes obvious that gifted students are in fact some of the most difficult to teach. An ordinary teacher spends 1/3 of every year doing review lessons, which the vast majority of gifted students do not gain anything from. The material covered by that ordinary teacher in the other 2/3 of the year can be absorbed by gifted students in a few weeks. This means that a gifted teacher has to present, at a minimum, roughly fifteen times as much material as an ordinary teacher. In addition, because of their students' superior higher-level thinking skills, gifted teachers must cover every topic in much greater depth, meaning they themselves have to have deeper knowledge and understanding of the subject areas involved – and they usually end up teaching all subject areas. Easy?
"It wouldn't be good for him/her socially."
Of the statements on this list, this is the one you're most likely to encounter in the wild. That's because most highly effective accommodations for gifted students – especially full or single-subject grade acceleration – have for years been assumed to be socially detrimental. It is, at this point, a proven fact that this is not correct; dozens of studies have been done on the social effects of acceleration, and to my knowledge not one has found it to cause any damage to a child's social development or status. In fact, the reverse is often true, since remaining in a classroom filled with one's intellectual inferiors does nothing to promote socialization. When a child is reading Twelfth Night and her classmates are struggling with The Very Hungry Caterpillar, how interested do you think she is in talking to them?
"Every child is gifted in their own way."
This statement is the most dangerous on this list, because it subtly destroys all rationale for making gifted programs available. If everyone is gifted, then giftedness is no longer a special educational need, and gifted services are unnecessary.
This is usually said by people who have no idea what "gifted" actually means, though on rare occasions it's simply a product of immense self-delusion. "Gifted" isn't some nebulous quality like "special"; it's defined and quantifiable. In most jurisdictions that I know of, it's defined as an IQ two standard deviations above the norm. Regardless of the precise definition in use, "gifted" refers to a specific population with specific needs, just like "special education" – and as a term and a group, deserves the same respect.
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Is acceleration really the best we can do?0 comments |
Grade acceleration is one of those things that never happen quietly. It’s one of the most contentious issues in education, in the sense that although it’s not common enough to provoke ongoing controversy, it always comes to a fight when the topic arises.
The majority of both classroom teachers and parents are likely to agree that grade-skipping is tantamount to dropping a neutron bomb on a child’s social life; many teachers will actually further argue that placing a child in class with older students will have negative effects on his academic success as well. Gifted educators, on the other hand, will tell you that acceleration has been proven to be of more benefit to gifted children than just about any other course of action, and that it is an utterly baseless myth that grade-skipping has any negative social effects. The latter argument is backed by just about every study that has ever been done on the subject.
The social argument against acceleration is founded on the false precept that children naturally “fit in” and interact best with others their own age. This is not even necessarily true of average-achieving students; it is not unusual to find children who are more comfortable with people a few years older or younger than themselves than they are with those their own age. With gifted children, it is actually very unlikely to be true. How probable is it, really, that a three-year-old with a second-grade reading level will prefer the company of other three-year-olds? How likely is it that other three-year-olds will find her an attractive playmate? It is far more likely that she will befriend older children, with whom she can share more of her interests and hold a more fulfilling conversation.
As for the academic effects of acceleration, it is nothing short of laughable to presume that giving a child work at his level will be somehow damaging.
These two rebuttals are generally the bulk of the gifted educator’s argument, which, once made, will usually be forwarded to six people who won’t read it and one who will file it and then lose the key to the cabinet. If by some miracle the argument is listened to by the classroom teachers, principal, parents, and school district administrators, the child will be moved down the hall, possibly given a phone book to sit on, and then treated like any other member of their new class. The problem with this should be obvious.
A gifted child, even one who is younger than the others in his class, is not like any other member of the class. Not for one second can we assume that a year’s age difference negates the needs of a gifted child or the responsibility we have to him. I go back to my favorite myth of gifted education: that gifted children are born “ahead” of their agemates but progress at the same speed. The opposite being the truth, it should take only a moment’s thought to realize that, regardless of her age, a gifted child who is at a fifth-grade level in September will reach sixth-grade level long before June. Consider a vastly oversimplified hypothetical child - let’s call her “Sophie” - who acquires knowledge and skills at exactly 1.5 times the average rate. At age four, she works at a first-grade level, so her school agrees to advance her to first grade from Kindergarten. At first, she’s overjoyed at the challenge, but that soon wears off when she realizes that whenever the teacher explains something new, she has it figured out long before the other children. That’s bad enough, but the worst is yet to come: at the end of the year, the rest of the class has advanced to the level at which they should be at the beginning of second grade, but Sophie, who is now five years old, is functioning at the level of a child halfway through second grade (age 7.5). Fast-forward three years, and Sophie is eight years old, going to school with nine-year-olds, and working at the level of a twelve-year-old.
This example isn’t true to life, of course (the phrase “spherical chickens in a vacuum” comes to mind); children develop in fits and starts rather than on a straight line, for one. But I hope it serves to illustrate my primary disagreement with acceleration, which is that placing a gifted child in a higher grade does not provide for the speed or the depth with which he can process information; rather, it simply moves him into a group which is working at his academic level at that precise moment in time, but which he may soon be beyond. Additionally, it can serve as an excuse to ignore the needs of such children, giving schools and teachers the opportunity to say something to the effect of “Jack has already been accelerated, which we feel is adequate provision for him.”
Furthermore, older children are in no way a gifted child’s peers simply by dint of having an extra year or two of knowledge and experience under their belts. A gifted child’s only peers are other gifted children. Parents who are worried about their children “fitting in” would do well to understand that it is difficult for a child to have a healthy social life when they are faced with a complete dearth of intellectual equals.
Acceleration has many things going for it, chief among them that it is, once you have the necessary signatures and forms, remarkably easy. A child who’s been grade-skipped can get on the same bus in the morning, go to the same school, play with the same friends, and come home at the same time as they did before the skip, without the parents being inconvenienced and without any financial implications on any party. It’s the educational equivalent of a “fire-and-forget” missile, or the “easy button” in those Staples advertisements - one action, relatively easy to make, that is generally thought to have drastic effect. And it does. But I for one believe it is simply not enough - and beyond that, I find the concept of it offensive. If teachers claimed that the very best we could offer students with special needs was to hold them back a year every now and then, there would be outrage from just about every direction. Acceleration is exactly the same concept. Just like children with special needs, gifted children require a unique kind of education and a high level of individual attention. They require resources created with their talents in mind and educators trained to help them reach their potential. They require a little more attention and consideration than it takes to move them three classrooms down the corridor.
Many gifted educators swear by grade acceleration. I consider it an admission of defeat. To advocate a grade-skip, in my mind, implies that the system has so failed a gifted child that the only option is to move them up into a class where they might at least encounter a few concepts they haven’t already mastered. I won’t for a moment suggest that it doesn’t help; I just think we could do much, much better.
The majority of both classroom teachers and parents are likely to agree that grade-skipping is tantamount to dropping a neutron bomb on a child’s social life; many teachers will actually further argue that placing a child in class with older students will have negative effects on his academic success as well. Gifted educators, on the other hand, will tell you that acceleration has been proven to be of more benefit to gifted children than just about any other course of action, and that it is an utterly baseless myth that grade-skipping has any negative social effects. The latter argument is backed by just about every study that has ever been done on the subject.
The social argument against acceleration is founded on the false precept that children naturally “fit in” and interact best with others their own age. This is not even necessarily true of average-achieving students; it is not unusual to find children who are more comfortable with people a few years older or younger than themselves than they are with those their own age. With gifted children, it is actually very unlikely to be true. How probable is it, really, that a three-year-old with a second-grade reading level will prefer the company of other three-year-olds? How likely is it that other three-year-olds will find her an attractive playmate? It is far more likely that she will befriend older children, with whom she can share more of her interests and hold a more fulfilling conversation.
As for the academic effects of acceleration, it is nothing short of laughable to presume that giving a child work at his level will be somehow damaging.
These two rebuttals are generally the bulk of the gifted educator’s argument, which, once made, will usually be forwarded to six people who won’t read it and one who will file it and then lose the key to the cabinet. If by some miracle the argument is listened to by the classroom teachers, principal, parents, and school district administrators, the child will be moved down the hall, possibly given a phone book to sit on, and then treated like any other member of their new class. The problem with this should be obvious.
A gifted child, even one who is younger than the others in his class, is not like any other member of the class. Not for one second can we assume that a year’s age difference negates the needs of a gifted child or the responsibility we have to him. I go back to my favorite myth of gifted education: that gifted children are born “ahead” of their agemates but progress at the same speed. The opposite being the truth, it should take only a moment’s thought to realize that, regardless of her age, a gifted child who is at a fifth-grade level in September will reach sixth-grade level long before June. Consider a vastly oversimplified hypothetical child - let’s call her “Sophie” - who acquires knowledge and skills at exactly 1.5 times the average rate. At age four, she works at a first-grade level, so her school agrees to advance her to first grade from Kindergarten. At first, she’s overjoyed at the challenge, but that soon wears off when she realizes that whenever the teacher explains something new, she has it figured out long before the other children. That’s bad enough, but the worst is yet to come: at the end of the year, the rest of the class has advanced to the level at which they should be at the beginning of second grade, but Sophie, who is now five years old, is functioning at the level of a child halfway through second grade (age 7.5). Fast-forward three years, and Sophie is eight years old, going to school with nine-year-olds, and working at the level of a twelve-year-old.
This example isn’t true to life, of course (the phrase “spherical chickens in a vacuum” comes to mind); children develop in fits and starts rather than on a straight line, for one. But I hope it serves to illustrate my primary disagreement with acceleration, which is that placing a gifted child in a higher grade does not provide for the speed or the depth with which he can process information; rather, it simply moves him into a group which is working at his academic level at that precise moment in time, but which he may soon be beyond. Additionally, it can serve as an excuse to ignore the needs of such children, giving schools and teachers the opportunity to say something to the effect of “Jack has already been accelerated, which we feel is adequate provision for him.”
Furthermore, older children are in no way a gifted child’s peers simply by dint of having an extra year or two of knowledge and experience under their belts. A gifted child’s only peers are other gifted children. Parents who are worried about their children “fitting in” would do well to understand that it is difficult for a child to have a healthy social life when they are faced with a complete dearth of intellectual equals.
Acceleration has many things going for it, chief among them that it is, once you have the necessary signatures and forms, remarkably easy. A child who’s been grade-skipped can get on the same bus in the morning, go to the same school, play with the same friends, and come home at the same time as they did before the skip, without the parents being inconvenienced and without any financial implications on any party. It’s the educational equivalent of a “fire-and-forget” missile, or the “easy button” in those Staples advertisements - one action, relatively easy to make, that is generally thought to have drastic effect. And it does. But I for one believe it is simply not enough - and beyond that, I find the concept of it offensive. If teachers claimed that the very best we could offer students with special needs was to hold them back a year every now and then, there would be outrage from just about every direction. Acceleration is exactly the same concept. Just like children with special needs, gifted children require a unique kind of education and a high level of individual attention. They require resources created with their talents in mind and educators trained to help them reach their potential. They require a little more attention and consideration than it takes to move them three classrooms down the corridor.
Many gifted educators swear by grade acceleration. I consider it an admission of defeat. To advocate a grade-skip, in my mind, implies that the system has so failed a gifted child that the only option is to move them up into a class where they might at least encounter a few concepts they haven’t already mastered. I won’t for a moment suggest that it doesn’t help; I just think we could do much, much better.
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Name Change0 comments |
You know how gifted people are stereotyped as perfectionists who are never pleased with themselves?
Yeah. Stereotypes exist for a reason.
The name I'd given this blog has been wearing at me as not quite right pretty much from day one, and I finally realized why: the name, or rather the thought behind it, was too much about advocacy. Now, I will be writing some advocacy stuff, no question, but this blog is mainly intended for people who already believe in the need for GT services. So I wanted a more general name. And I've just spent the last three hours wracking my brain to come up with this: Twenty-Nine Letters.
You may find this an odd name. Its meaning is very personal. This blog is now named for (not after - for) the first gifted student with whom I ever worked. She continues to inspire me and I thought it only fitting that I honor her somehow. And no, there weren't 29 letters in her name; it's not that simple! There are 29 letters in the word I taught her how to spell the first day I worked with her: floccinaucinihilipilification (here's the link to prove I'm not just making that up). And yes, she learned it.
The original "What is an Icarus Indomitus?" post will stay up, because I do still believe in that philosophy. It's just not an appropriate name for the blog as a whole.
Yeah. Stereotypes exist for a reason.
The name I'd given this blog has been wearing at me as not quite right pretty much from day one, and I finally realized why: the name, or rather the thought behind it, was too much about advocacy. Now, I will be writing some advocacy stuff, no question, but this blog is mainly intended for people who already believe in the need for GT services. So I wanted a more general name. And I've just spent the last three hours wracking my brain to come up with this: Twenty-Nine Letters.
You may find this an odd name. Its meaning is very personal. This blog is now named for (not after - for) the first gifted student with whom I ever worked. She continues to inspire me and I thought it only fitting that I honor her somehow. And no, there weren't 29 letters in her name; it's not that simple! There are 29 letters in the word I taught her how to spell the first day I worked with her: floccinaucinihilipilification (here's the link to prove I'm not just making that up). And yes, she learned it.
The original "What is an Icarus Indomitus?" post will stay up, because I do still believe in that philosophy. It's just not an appropriate name for the blog as a whole.
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