Teaching a Sensitive, Pre-Teen Know-it-All

Witness an actual conversation that occurred between the 11 year old and myself:

Picture me, excited because I think I’ve found a co-op class that my drama-loving, ever-talking, debate-engaging, pre-teen son will enjoy.

Me:  Cub, there’s a homeschool speech and leadership class offered through the library.  What do ya think?!

Cub:  Oh, yeah.  (with all the liveliness of a block of wood)

Me:  (amping up the enthusiasm in the hopes it would be contagious) Yeah!  I thought you’d really enjoy it . . . you’ll learn ways to project your voice and use body language and get to tell stories . . .

Cub:  (eye roll)  Mom . . . I already know how to do all that.  I’m an actor.  I’ve been in plays.  I don’t need to learn more.  

And Cub exits stage left.  Which was probably a good thing, because that kind of mindset makes me want to strangle him just a little bit.

He’s always been a precocious little kid.  And while the official definition of precocious has something to do with developing abilities at an earlier age than usual, I’m using it as a synonym for smart aleck, wiseguy, smarty pants, know-it-all, etc.  Sometimes this attitude of his can be an asset, like when he’s in a group of kids and steadfastly sticks to his convictions.  But, when I’m trying to teach him something, either in his academics or just passing on mom-wisdom, it is incredibly infuriating and gets in the way of actual learning.

He’ll staunchly talk over my explanations on how to do a math problem, because he knows what he’s doing even though he’s doing it completely wrong.  He’ll refuse classes, or grudgingly participate, because he doesn’t think he has anything more to learn on the topic.  He’ll spout off about a topic that he actually knows little about, but maintain that he saw it somewhere on youtube, so he knows more about it than anyone else.  This unabashed certitude is a hallmark of giftedness and of being a pre-teen, and when those have combined over the past couple of years . . . well . . . there really are no words.  I mean, seriously.  Holy hell.

And for me, personally, narcissism is one of my biggest pet peeves.  And when I see my lovely little boy overflowing with it, part of me becomes very adolescent and I want to show him just how wrong he is.  I want to tie him down, duct-tape his mouth and “make” him listen to me.  I want to make him eat his all-knowing words.  And while I’ve never actually duct-taped his mouth shut, I have uncontrollably jumped into a power struggle with the boy and tried to lecture him into wisdom.  Which, you know, worked really well.

To complicate things, Cub is also one of the most emotionally intense and empathetically sensitive souls I’ve ever met.  Oh, and lets not forget the perfectionism that many gifted children are simply born with.  To provide correction and guidance to this child requires a very fine balancing act.  He already beats himself up enough if he thinks he’s made a mistake, his mom certainly doesn’t need to add fuel to his fire.  He picks up on tone and feels other people’s emotions, so even the hint of frustration or disappointment can have him feeling bad for hours or days.

As a parent and teacher, this balancing act can be so difficult to walk.  Our children require correction.  Developing a growth mindset and the humility to know that there’s always more to be learned is essential for success.  But, our children also need us to be their soft place to land.  They need us to be their champions and cheerleaders.  

Here are a few things I’ve learned about how to navigate this contradictory place of sensitive narcissism.

First and foremost, I need to prioritize my own emotional regulation.  When he refuses to listen to my teaching, I need to take a few breathes and not take it personally.  I need to quiet my own know-it-all tendency that wants to prove just how right I am and remember that the irritating wise-ass sitting in front of me is actually just my little cub who’s trying to find his way.  I need to stay calm.

I need to provide space and time.  Not all lessons can be learned in one sitting.  We’re in it for the long haul and when I can keep my eyes on the long-term prize, I can see this one moment as simply a building block.

I need to allow my own discomfort and watch him struggle and fail.  If he thinks he knows how to do the math problem and won’t listen to instruction, let him do it his way and see where he gets.  Let him find his own errors.  Let him come to me and ask for help when he does finally see for himself that he doesn’t understand.  That’s far more effective than when I’ve tried to make him see that he needs help.

I need to model my own growth mindset.  Fully acknowledge when I don’t know something.  Ask for help.  Show my kids that I’m continually learning.  Be willing to show humility when I’ve thought I’ve known something to be true and learned that I was mistaken.

And I need to provide all correction nestled gently between words of love and full-on acceptance.  Even when his eyes are rolling and his words are sarcastic, he continues to be a gentle soul who simply needs, like all of us, to know that he’s loved and worthwhile simply for being who he is.

After some time and space away from each other, I was able to calmly explain why I thought the speech and leadership class would be helpful and he was able to listen to my words.  And victory for mom!  He’s signed up for the class.  Though now that I’m thinking about it, maybe giving him more tools to eloquently argue with me was not my wisest move.

On Being Intentionally Active

I remember the moment distinctly.  We were sitting at the cub scouts end of the year picnic, watching Cub and the other 6 year old boys playing t-ball.  I watched as Cub tried really hard to behave like the other 6 year old boys and he just didn’t know how to do it.  It was pretty painfully cringy to watch.  He just simply didn’t know how to “act his age.”  Typically he was pretty serious, engaged in thoughtful conversations, and enjoyed magically creative dramatic play.  In his attempts to fit in with the other boys, he became that overly silly, in-your-face kind of boy.  And, with his psychomotor intensity, he was physically buzzing around everyone and talking non-stop.  But, psychomotor intensity doesn’t necessarily equate to advanced psychomotor ability.  So, not only was he buzzing around, but he was doing so clumsily and simply seemed as though he didn’t know how to move his body.  My husband and I looked at each other and said, “Oh my gosh.  Our kid’s the annoying kid.”  My mind could flash forward a few years and the picture it painted of Cub’s social life wasn’t pretty.

Later in the week, I finally acquiesced to my husband’s fairly regular requests to enroll Cub in a martial art.  It was one of the best activity choices we’ve ever made.  And, in reflection, here’s why.

The physical discipline he has learned has helped him to grow more grounded in his movements.  He understands how to move his body with intention, which helps him modulate his psychomotor intensity.  The form of martial art, Aikido, is a defensive discipline, so it has also curbed his previous tendency to get into people’s faces, knowing he doesn’t need to go on the attack, but can quietly wait.  He has had the opportunity to learn from other people, older and younger, and to develop his own leadership skills.  In addition to the physical skills, there is an intellectual element of Aikido as he learns strategy, Japanese culture and language, and an understanding of the philosophy of Aikido.

His successes with Aikido have taught me a few things with regard to choosing the appropriate extracurricular activities for our gifted kids.

First, I now try to very intentionally choose activities that allow an outlet for their various intensities (overexcitabilities).  The more we feed the intensities, the less dysfunctional they become.  Aikido for psychomotor intensity.  Drama or Destination Imagination for imaginational intensity.  Art classes or philanthropic service projects to feed the sensual or emotional intensity.  Strategic gaming clubs for opportunities for intellectual intensity.

Second, I try to not only choose activities that feed the intensities, but also that help my kids learn how to modulate them.  There are a lot of downsides to intensities and us gifted people need to know how to regulate those downsides.  But, there are a lot of upsides, as well, and we need to teach our kids how to build the strengths and regulate the weaknesses of their particular intensities.  Aikido has been fabulous for this as Cub’s learned how to be generally more grounded in his body.

Third, we seek out multi-age activities.  Our kids develop asynchronistically, which means they rarely fit in with chronological peers.  They tend to do better with older or younger kids.  And, when multi-age groups for particular activities don’t exist, sometimes we create our own.  I managed a Destination Imagination team geared to homeschoolers so we could have a range of kids’ ages on the team.  Worked far better than sticking Cub in the public school’s team with all the same grade kids.

Fourth, we are very intentional about talking together to determine what and how many activities to participate in.  Gifted kids tend to be more introverted, so the fast-paced, be busy 24 hours a day, sign up for lots of activities world that we live in is often even more detrimental to these kiddos.  Sometimes we choose activities that are one-on-one, or solitary, or just at home.  And Cub generally has an understanding of what his limits are.

There are so many fantastic opportunities for our kids these days.  It becomes difficult to say no or to find the right match.  But, I’ve found that when I can be intentional in the ways I’ve described, my kids can flourish.  They learn how to build upon the strengths and modulate the weaknesses of their intense personalities.  And, thankfully, with Aikido’s help, Cub is no longer the annoying kid.

For More tips, tricks, and stories about the intersection of extracurricular activities and intensities, check out the Blog Hop at Gifted Homeschooler's Forum!

Stupid Logical Brain

I’m learning that there are many bittersweet moments as a mom.  Moments in which your children reach another developmental milestone bring tears of happiness and tears of grief as the loss of your baby’s babyhood become clearer.  Gifted kids hit some of these maturational milestones earlier than others, and I have to say that I think that kind of sucks.

Take, for example, an incident that occurred a few years ago.  Cub was 6 years old, 7 tops.  For the previous 4 years he’d been all about superheroes and Harry Potter.  He walked into the kitchen, head hung low, and said to me, “Mom, I’m kinda sad.”

“Really, buddy?  What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s just really sad that everything cool isn’t really real.  You know, like superheroes or magic or Harry Potter.”

Hugging ensued as this mama’s heart was torn into pieces and my mind frantically searched for a helpful, feel-better response.  And I remember thinking that this sucked.  He was still a teeny tiny boy, barely school-age, and his stupid logical brain had already taken away the magic of childhood fantasy.  (Don’t even get me started on his struggles to suspend reality and simply enjoy a fictitious movie!)

And at that moment, I decided that maybe the magic of the fantasy was gone, but I could help spark some new magic.  So, I said, “Yep, buddy.  Right now there aren’t any people who can fly or climb walls with sticky web fingers, but who’s to say that you can’t find a way to make that happen?  Maybe you’ll be the world’s first real-life superhero.”

I never knew it was possible to embody pure sadness and incredulous scoffing at the same time, but there it was, all over my 6 year old’s face.  “Don’t be ridiculous, mom,” he said.  And, having proven his point, he thought the conversation was over.  But I had a comeback.

“Seriously, cub.  If you really want to and you work hard and surround yourself with other smart people, maybe you and your crew will be the first to develop some type of injection or microchip that will allow people to harness the power of flight.  100 years ago nobody thought airplanes were possible.  So who says it can’t be done?!”

Yes, my motives were probably suspect.  Really I just didn’t want my baby to grow up so fast.  But, ultimately, I’m pretty proud of this parenting moment.  And, don’t worry, there are about a bazillion other parenting fails in my repertoire, too.

Gifted kids have enough struggles to contend with.  The least we can do is keep imagination, hope, and fantasy alive for as long as we can, even if it has to shift form.  This, after all, breeds innovation and creates the crazy humans who actually do change the world.

Or, maybe, I just really want to fly.

“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.
”

— Steve Jobs

Caring Just Enough

In recent months a lot of the dirty “secrets” of society have been bubbling up to the surface.  Though, in fairness, these have really only been “secrets” to people privileged enough to be able to ignore them.  Racism and sexism have been blatantly supported by some of our country’s supposed leaders.  Institutional racism, sexism, able-ism has been caught on video and shared throughout the world.  People of differing faiths have been demonized and threatened to be put on a national registry.  Countries of plenty have been closing tight fists around their lands and resources, under the unreasonable belief that there simply isn’t enough to go around.  Immigrants are being dehumanized.  Refugees are being refused safe harbor.  People are being shot and killed.  LGBTQ individuals are being targeted and hunted down.  Victimized people are choosing to respond with more violence and hate.

For people with emotionally intense personalities (many gifted people), these bubblings can feel extremely overwhelming.  Anxiety and fear and sadness and anger and helplessness are felt by many people, but for emotionally intense children and adults, these feelings are multiplied and intensified.  Emotionally intense people not only feel things more intensely, but they also tend to be extremely empathetic.  They literally put themselves in the shoes and feelings of all the people who are being hurt and harmed.  And when there are so many people being hurt and harmed, many of our brightest, most empathetic minds simply shut down from overload.  The empathy becomes paralyzing. 

Now, obviously, this paralysis is simply not helpful.  To anyone.  Paralysis does not help to end racism.  Paralysis does not help to empower women.  Paralysis does not help to create sanctuary for our world’s poorest.  Paralysis does not help unite with people who are different from ourselves.  Paralysis does not help end violence or hate.  Paralysis simply does not help.

So, what to do?

Our brightest and most caring minds need to care, but not too much.  The trick is to care enough, but just enough.  We need to examine our own passions and decide what we, individually, are impassioned to fight for.  It is ok to choose one issue and throw all your passion and power into fighting against that evil.  In fact, it is necessary to choose just one.  And then we have to trust that other people are out there choosing the other injustices to fight against.  It is ok to notice some injustices and choose to devote your attention somewhere else.  We humans simply cannot give our all to everything.  We have to choose.  And that is ok.  I give you permission to care deeply about one of the “secrets” and do what you can to advocate for change.  I give you permission to notice the other “secrets” and let someone else do what they can to advocate for change. 

Now, of course, I’m not advocating for perpetuating the hatreds.  I will teach my children to be respectful and accepting of everyone, regardless of who they love or their gender, skin color, country of origin, abilities, etc.  But, I cannot be at every rally or write my congress people about everything.  I will be much more effective if I choose my area of advocacy, and throw all my intense passion into it.  I will be much more effective if I choose to care just enough.

How do gifted and differently wired go together?

At first glance it may seem like we’ve combined two random issues and thrown them together just because we felt like it.  In actuality, there’s very real reasons we’re wanting to address BOTH neurologically diverse and gifted issues.  The primary of which is the fact that they are actually not even 2 different issues.

Gifted individuals are neurologically diverse people.  They are differently wired.  Life as a gifted person is just as far from typical as the life of an autistic person is.  The general population tends to think of giftedness in terms of ability or talent.  In reality, gifted people experience life differently.  It isn’t just that their brains retain or understand information more rapidly.  Their whole lives are more intense.  They experience life differently, and this difference can often be misunderstood.  This difference has strengths and challenges, joys and maddening stressors.

Additionally, gifted people can also experience other wiring differences.  In the field, we call this being twice-exceptional or 2e.  Gifted individuals can also have learning disabilities or ADHD or autism, etc.  And, in fact, gifted people seem to be more prone to a particular type of neurological dysfunction called sensory processing disorder.  According to the SPD Foundation, as many as 35% of gifted individuals also have sensory processing disorder.  This is significantly higher than the average population in which 5% of people have SPD.  Personally, I think there needs to be more research as to whether all of these gifted SPD people are accurately diagnosed, or if some of the SPD is simply sensual intensity, but nevertheless, the neurology is different.

Ultimately, gifted individuals, individuals with autism or SPD, all live on the fringes of society and neurology.  And loving someone who is on the fringes, whether because of giftedness or otherwise, is more intense than typical relationships.  These kiddos have higher needs, which means parenting these kiddos requires more of the parents.  And when more is required of parents, more support for the parents is necessary.  And so, gifted, autistic, sensory issues, or other neurodevelopmental difference . . . all are welcome at the Fringy Bit.