When Giftedness Goes Unseen
“I’m not sure why you think I’m gifted,” she said to me during our first meeting two years ago. Annie sat confidently in her chair, making full eye contact with me, very standoffish about the fact that she was being considered for the gifted program. She refused to fill out any paperwork at first and then agreed to do it in private, so that no one else would see. She was embarrassed and didn’t want her friends, or anyone for that matter, to know that she was in the gifted program.
“Read this to me,” I said as I handed her a writing piece she had written a few days before. She started reading her piece very quickly, using a monotone and almost undistinguishable voice.
“To the little girl I may one day have. You are beautiful. You are a flower growing from a pile of rocks, your petals coming through unscathed...tender. You are a beam of light shining through a black cloud, you are a breath of fresh air…”
However, as she continued on, she slowed her pace, began to fluctuate her voice and space her words so that I could understand.
“You are the last verse of a poem; you have meaning. To the little girl I may one day have, I am sorry. I’m sorry I yell at you. I’m sorry you don’t feel loved at times, and I’m sorry I can’t be in two places at once...”
When she finished her piece, she kept her head down. I assumed that she didn’t want me to see her face turning a bit red, but after a few seconds, she glanced up at me.
“That is why, Annie. That is why I think you are gifted,” I said to her with a smile.
Annie grew up in a small apartment located within walking distance to her elementary school. Her mom worked several part-time jobs while she was growing up, which was enough to provide food on the table most nights. She was either too proud or unaware of the option to ask for financial assistance, which would have provided Annie with free breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Either way, Annie has had a happy childhood and surrounds herself with many friends at school. However, she proudly states that her mom is her best friend. “She is the only person who has never let me down,” she says about her mother.
Annie was an only child until recently. Her mom remarried just last year and had a baby with her new husband. Annie loves her baby brother and says she likes her stepfather. “He’s the only father I’ve ever known,” she says with a pang of hurt in her voice. She’s never met her father; he left when her mom found out she was pregnant. He has never tried to contact her – which her mom is very happy about. Her mom says he is a bad man, someone that she wouldn’t want Annie to have contact with. However, Annie can’t help but wonder about him. She also can’t help but wonder if she has any half-siblings out there in the world – a sister who could help her understand the social implications of being multiracial, or a brother who could stick up for her when she has felt threatened because of it.
Annie remembers reading picture books at a young age and making up stories while lying in bed with her mom. Her mom loved hearing her wild imagination go on and on about different characters she had created in her mind. Annie’s vast vocabulary added to the imagery and exciting plots. Her stories as a young girl were more of the fantasy genre; however, now she prefers to write narratives or poetry about life events.
So, when I walked into Annie’s 4th period English Language Arts class, I was surprised to see her slumped down in her seat, typing vigorously on her phone. She didn’t see me enter the room, which I preferred because now I could see her interact with her peers in an academic setting without it being affected by my presence. Mrs. Brown began telling the class about the goals for their time together and how they were going to accomplish them. Annie continued to type on her phone. I could tell that Mrs. Brown noticed, but was waiting to see if she would stop. She continued her lesson and Annie continued her typing. Mrs. Brown walked over to Annie's desk and stood there as she taught. Annie didn’t seem to notice or she didn’t care; I wasn’t sure which at this point. After teaching for a few minutes, with Annie showing complete disregard, Mrs. Brown finally told her to put her phone away. Annie rolled her eyes, but complied.
Throughout the lesson, Annie showed mostly disinterest, chiming in a few times out of turn to comment on what was being said in the lesson. Her comments were actually applicable, and helpful for the most part, but were silenced by Mrs. Brown because of the manner in which she spoke. When the tone signaled the end of the period, she flew up out of her seat and transformed into a totally different girl. She was laughing, happy to see her friends, and just so full of life. I couldn’t believe this was the same person.
Giftedness does not look the same in all children. Strengths and challenges vary widely in gifted learners. Not one instructional strategy, intervention or research-based practice will work for everyone. Therefore, developing strong relationships and understanding the unique needs of each gifted learner is essential to their success and realization of potential. As I got to know Annie throughout the year, I learned that she is a vibrant, impressionable, and at times, defeated middle school girl, yearning for acceptance even if it means masking a gift that she has. I learned that she is an exemplary writer, one that I am convinced will achieve many accomplishments, IF we as her educators, her peers, her parents, nurture her talent and exemplify the importance of her success.
Shortly after my first classroom observation with Annie, I met with her. She was tense walking into my office, but as soon as we were in and the door was closed, she relaxed. Without any prompting, she started telling me about this piece she was working on – a slam poetry piece titled, “I Will Ruin You.” She brought the writing piece up on her phone. A light bulb went off in my head. I asked her, “where do you do most of your writing?” She said she mostly writes at home, but when she has an idea, she needs to get it out, most often on her phone. She showed me all of the files she had saved within the “notes” app of her iPhone. I saw at least 10 titles, so I asked her about the other day in ELA when she was on her phone. She blushed and said she didn’t realize I was there – and as her eyes filled with tears, explained that she had been writing a piece about love and how she was struggling with whether she loved someone or just loved the idea of love. I could tell this was a topic that was weighing heavily on her heart.
She regained her composure and began to excitedly tell me about her writing process and how she feels when she writes. She brought up ELA class and how she is completely bored during class, that it doesn’t challenge her thinking, that she hates being told what to write and how to write. She just wants to write. I asked her if she shares her writing with others and she adamantly said, “no way…” She explained to me that her writing is very personal and she hasn’t found anyone that she wants to share her writing with. We had a further discussion about writing, life, family and school; our relationship deepened that day. And…at the end of our meeting, she asked, “would you like to read my piece?” I smiled and said, “absolutely!”
- Amanda Ironside, WATG Board Member
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