Journal 1
I was gifted once and didn't even know it. One day a week in elementary school we, the other gifts and I, got on a bus and left regular school to explore our gifts at a different school. I didn't really get it. We made family trees, learned to meditate (one time we breathed into our bellies instead of our chests), and probably did many more things I was too young to remember. In fact, I was to young to remember how old I was. Probably six or seven.
So I suppose gifted students are just like me sometimes. Smart, creative, adaptable. Except the ones who aren't. The reluctant, obstinate blocks and stones.
I believe anyone can be gifted if the right person looks closely enough. Johnny can't read? It's because he's gifted in math. Suzy can't write? It's because she's gifted in artistic communication. Give him some numbers and her a paintbrush and viola! Genius.
That's cynical.
We should meet them at the door and shake hands. I guess I just need a reason to care about a gifted kid who can take care of his needs and will be fine in life working for some corporation . . . there I go being cynical again.
I've got kids who just plain struggle. How do I raise them up to passing? How do I find a way to make them successful?
Or are those the gifted ones?
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