Raw Drip

They are the words I’ve always dreaded hearing in a Parent/Teacher conference: “…Your son is very bright. Actually, we think he’s gifted…”

Of course it wouldn’t be a good story about Adam if Miss Melissa’s statement of praise wasn’t also followed by another dreaded word “BUT…” – although the words that followed the “but’ are the subject of an entirely different post. This post is about why I’m totally bummed that he’s gifted.

As the words, “We think he’s gifted” hung in the air, I teetered uncomfortably on the little green Kindergarten chair I was forced to sit upon ready to spring forward and rage in protest. I wanted to shout at them – How do you know gifted? You send home progress reports riddled with poor grammar and spelling errors a third grader wouldn’t make! Gifted? Have you seen him try to tell a lie? He’s an amateur! The boy can’t even do a half-decent job of wiping his own butt and you think he’s gifted? Perhaps you think he’s bright because he hasn’t yet stumbled into a low-paying, thankless job like yours. A job whose high point seems to be the periodic power-trip you get from making busy working parents feel neglectful and inadequate…

Thankfully something inside me sensed that these were not the words or reaction the teachers were expecting and I silenced myself. Instead I sat there listening to their assessment of my son’s intelligence with an oppresive feeling of inevitability hanging over me like the spectre of an unwanted promotion at work.

You might be thinking, “What’s wrong with this woman? Isn’t it a good thing for your children to be seen as bright – even gifted?”

Um…no.

I know I should be flattered that my gene pool contributed to the creation of a new intellectual dynamo, but I just don’t see any good coming of this revelation. Of course I don’t want an idiot for a child either (although being male, Adam’s genetically predisposed to a certain amount of idiocy). It’s just that I’d always hoped my kids would be regarded as middle-of-the-road bright – above average, but hard working. I was hoping they’d be just smart enough to give their brain the occasional privilege of weighing in on decisions before they go with their gut, but not so super-smart that they’d be more intelligent by age 6 than I’ll ever be.

Here’s my problem with the whole “gifted” label. First of all, growing up is just going to be made that much harder for him because with all those smarts and not a clue how to use them for good; he’ll use them for evil. That means his father and I are going to have to work that much harder to keep him intellectually engaged both at home and in school. I’m already exhausted, how am I going to find time to further “engage” him? But I also have no choice in the matter. Any teacher will tell you: there’s nothing worse than a bored smart kid.

On top of him being academically mature Adam is HUGE for his age, so with the brains and the looks of a much older kid, he’s never going to be given permission to behave in a developmentally appropriate manner. There will always be behavioral expectations on him that aren’t placed on a smaller, bright kid. The battles we’ve faced this past year are NEVER going to end. Someone kill me now…

Another problem I have with labeling him “gifted” is that I don’t see a lot of extremely intelligent and happy people in this world. Oh, I’m sure they’re out there. But all the ones I’m familiar with are complicated, tortured souls. I think gifted people tend towards this level of misery because nature doesn’t favor extremes – nature likes moderation. So when you’ve got that many marbles, you end up being screwed up in some other crucial way. Besides, you know the saying that “ignorance is bliss”? Well, it is. And, while I don’t want Adam to grow up ignorant, his brightness is certainly going to eliminate the possibility of a good old fashioned “snow job” from my limited repetoire of parenting techniques.

So what’s a parent to do when your kid is poised to be much smarter than you? I haven’t a clue.  Inside I know I should be happy to have such a bright kid on my hands, but in truth, the prospect terrifies me. I’ve long functioned in this world as slightly above average and it’s where I’m most comfortable. Now, all of the sudden, I need to develop a whole new perspective, new skills, and a new grit for dealing with someone who in very short order will be much smarter than I am. It’s intimidating, to say the least.

So, like I said, ignorance is bliss…and Adam’s teacher totally ruined it for me. Bitch.