Rambling about being "the smart kid."
Another mailing list I'm on was having a discussion on how teachers often don't know how to handle kids who read, kids who are independent, etc. I posted some anecdotal crap from my own childhood, and wondered if any of you experienced similar difficulties for being the smart kids.
It strikes me as funny that the point of education is supposed to be to turn out, ideally, super-geniuses, but that when children enter the system at a rate advanced past that with which many teachers are comfortable, feelings of unease abound, and all hell breaks loose. It's like the teachers are given a "smart kid pop quiz" and are forced to remember something they'd skimmed over in their Elementary Ed classes.
I, too, received a lot of guff throughout elementary school for being, gasp, a reader! I started reading at 3, so when I got to Kindergarten, I was reading at the third-grade level, and, fortunately, my Kindergarten teacher noticed this and encouraged it and, along with several other teachers and a psychologist, suggested that I be allowed to advance a grade. But there's always *one* person who has to have a problem with something, and it was one of the first grade teachers. She went on and on about how it was a bad idea, how I would be left out and made fun of by my peers, how my physical development would be behind my classmates, thus impeding my ability to keep up with them in physical education, etc (this one was particularly stupid, as I was one of the taller girls in my K class *anyway,* and it's not like I wanted to be on the first-grade basketball team or something). This one teacher was having an absolute cow because I would be one developmental year behind all of my peers. Because, hey, every girl hits puberty right at 13, and everyone gets to drive when they turn 16, etc., right?
Fortunately, my parents were given the final say, and they were adamant that I be advanced a year. I never had a single problem "developmentally," especially as I'd always sought older peers and adult company anyway. No, I didn't get to be on the basketball team, but one extra year in school wouldn't have made me grow six inches to be on the team then, either. :P And, like it matters, I wasn't even the last girl in my class to hit puberty, etc., so all that emotional scarring that I was supposed to endure? Right. Not because of my classmates, anyway.
Unfortunately, I was the first child in the school system to skip a grade, so while my peers all accepted me immediately (at least until middle school, when I was too smart and geeky to be their friends, but, who cares), the *teachers* were the ones who didn't know how to handle me.
My second grade teacher paddled and reprimanded me constantly for talking too much when I would finish my work early and the other students would ask me for help. My third grade teacher constantly sent me out in the hall or, yes, paddled me because I would "piddle." Essentially I would still finish my homework long before the rest of the class, so I would pull out a book or my crayon box or whatever and keep myself quietly occupied. This just irked my teacher, though, and I guess, looking back, I understand that it wasn't that *I* was the problem but that my finishing so quickly and doing what I wished would distract my classmates, and they wouldn't finish their work.
Why *I* had to be paddled and constantly reprimanded for it, though, I still just don't understand.
Also unfortunately, in fourth grade I got the teacher who had previously been the first grade teacher who was so anti-grade advancement. Fortunately I only had her for two classes (we started "changing classes" in fourth grade so we could "adjust to middle school." Made no sense, to me, since middle school was, at that time, still two years away). And it's easy for a child to think they were singled out, but there just doesn't ever seem to be reason for a teacher to say to a child "you think you're so smart, why don't you give me a five-page report on X topic by tomorrow." I was punished by her for being intelligent. And the great irony was that her punishment just ended up making me MORE intelligent, a better writer, etc. Stupid, really. She also paddled me once for helping my best friend finish her homework. She said something about my "thinking I was better than everyone wasn't going to turn the rest of the class into a bunch of cheaters," so she paddled my friend and I. Unfortunately when I reentered the classroom, my best friend asked me if the paddling hurt and I said "no" right as my teacher walked in. Oops. Guess who got another one. Yeah, and the teacher walked in after that one and said "did you run your mouth about *that* one, or did you actually learn something today, smartypants." :P
It's amazing that I didn't take a .45 to school in fourth grade.
My sixth grade teacher was completely against "gifted" programs, and often told me I wasn't allowed to go to my gifted/enrichment class for some lame reason. My parents finally complained about that one (they weren't the complainin' type, but they did come to my assistance quite a bit with regard to these issues) and the school principal told my sixth grade teacher that the enrichment classes were required for me, that the school psychologist had assigned me to them, and that it was just as important that I go to those classes as the special education students go to their speech or remedial "resource" classes. So after that, my teacher always made a point, at 1:45, of saying "Holly, isn't it time for your *special ed* class?"
Sheesh. I didn't care, I was happy to get out of her room and go learn Spanish or very basic computer programming. Further, looking back, if I'd been a little wiser and less impressionable, I could have gotten that teacher in a pile of trouble for making us pray every day, to Jesus Christ, no less, before lunch. She also made us recite The Lord's Prayer before our graduation ceremony, and berated me for not knowing it, since my parents weren't church-goers and, thus, neither was I. And this was at a public school in 1990. I just didn't want to rock the boat anymore, so I tried to play along, but oh man....
For the number of times I got paddled or in trouble in elementary school, one would think I was a complete hellion. I got paddled almost as much as some of the thug-boys who would start fights in the classroom (though they were then sent to "alternative school.") And then I went on to, oh, actually *do something with myself,* while my supposedly angelic classmates followed the script as they always had, and just popped out babies immediately after graduation (if they made it that far).
The brilliance of all of this, though, is that each teacher who tried to punish me or restrain me to some sense just succeeded in educating me further, making me more resilient, making me introverted and studious, making me question religious zealots such as my sixth grade teacher, instead opting for my own method of "being a good person," etc. I never had a truly "good teacher" until I was in high school, when I had several independent, free-thinking teachers who, finally, encouraged my individuality and love for learning. Other than that handful of teachers, my parents really had a hard job of reassuring me that being intelligent *was* a good thing, that I wasn't a freak, and that all of those people who were doubting me were just jealous and resentful. I really appreciate their diligence and constant attention to my educational needs. (I won't even get into the rest of my family, though).
It strikes me as funny that the point of education is supposed to be to turn out, ideally, super-geniuses, but that when children enter the system at a rate advanced past that with which many teachers are comfortable, feelings of unease abound, and all hell breaks loose. It's like the teachers are given a "smart kid pop quiz" and are forced to remember something they'd skimmed over in their Elementary Ed classes.
I, too, received a lot of guff throughout elementary school for being, gasp, a reader! I started reading at 3, so when I got to Kindergarten, I was reading at the third-grade level, and, fortunately, my Kindergarten teacher noticed this and encouraged it and, along with several other teachers and a psychologist, suggested that I be allowed to advance a grade. But there's always *one* person who has to have a problem with something, and it was one of the first grade teachers. She went on and on about how it was a bad idea, how I would be left out and made fun of by my peers, how my physical development would be behind my classmates, thus impeding my ability to keep up with them in physical education, etc (this one was particularly stupid, as I was one of the taller girls in my K class *anyway,* and it's not like I wanted to be on the first-grade basketball team or something). This one teacher was having an absolute cow because I would be one developmental year behind all of my peers. Because, hey, every girl hits puberty right at 13, and everyone gets to drive when they turn 16, etc., right?
Fortunately, my parents were given the final say, and they were adamant that I be advanced a year. I never had a single problem "developmentally," especially as I'd always sought older peers and adult company anyway. No, I didn't get to be on the basketball team, but one extra year in school wouldn't have made me grow six inches to be on the team then, either. :P And, like it matters, I wasn't even the last girl in my class to hit puberty, etc., so all that emotional scarring that I was supposed to endure? Right. Not because of my classmates, anyway.
Unfortunately, I was the first child in the school system to skip a grade, so while my peers all accepted me immediately (at least until middle school, when I was too smart and geeky to be their friends, but, who cares), the *teachers* were the ones who didn't know how to handle me.
My second grade teacher paddled and reprimanded me constantly for talking too much when I would finish my work early and the other students would ask me for help. My third grade teacher constantly sent me out in the hall or, yes, paddled me because I would "piddle." Essentially I would still finish my homework long before the rest of the class, so I would pull out a book or my crayon box or whatever and keep myself quietly occupied. This just irked my teacher, though, and I guess, looking back, I understand that it wasn't that *I* was the problem but that my finishing so quickly and doing what I wished would distract my classmates, and they wouldn't finish their work.
Why *I* had to be paddled and constantly reprimanded for it, though, I still just don't understand.
Also unfortunately, in fourth grade I got the teacher who had previously been the first grade teacher who was so anti-grade advancement. Fortunately I only had her for two classes (we started "changing classes" in fourth grade so we could "adjust to middle school." Made no sense, to me, since middle school was, at that time, still two years away). And it's easy for a child to think they were singled out, but there just doesn't ever seem to be reason for a teacher to say to a child "you think you're so smart, why don't you give me a five-page report on X topic by tomorrow." I was punished by her for being intelligent. And the great irony was that her punishment just ended up making me MORE intelligent, a better writer, etc. Stupid, really. She also paddled me once for helping my best friend finish her homework. She said something about my "thinking I was better than everyone wasn't going to turn the rest of the class into a bunch of cheaters," so she paddled my friend and I. Unfortunately when I reentered the classroom, my best friend asked me if the paddling hurt and I said "no" right as my teacher walked in. Oops. Guess who got another one. Yeah, and the teacher walked in after that one and said "did you run your mouth about *that* one, or did you actually learn something today, smartypants." :P
It's amazing that I didn't take a .45 to school in fourth grade.
My sixth grade teacher was completely against "gifted" programs, and often told me I wasn't allowed to go to my gifted/enrichment class for some lame reason. My parents finally complained about that one (they weren't the complainin' type, but they did come to my assistance quite a bit with regard to these issues) and the school principal told my sixth grade teacher that the enrichment classes were required for me, that the school psychologist had assigned me to them, and that it was just as important that I go to those classes as the special education students go to their speech or remedial "resource" classes. So after that, my teacher always made a point, at 1:45, of saying "Holly, isn't it time for your *special ed* class?"
Sheesh. I didn't care, I was happy to get out of her room and go learn Spanish or very basic computer programming. Further, looking back, if I'd been a little wiser and less impressionable, I could have gotten that teacher in a pile of trouble for making us pray every day, to Jesus Christ, no less, before lunch. She also made us recite The Lord's Prayer before our graduation ceremony, and berated me for not knowing it, since my parents weren't church-goers and, thus, neither was I. And this was at a public school in 1990. I just didn't want to rock the boat anymore, so I tried to play along, but oh man....
For the number of times I got paddled or in trouble in elementary school, one would think I was a complete hellion. I got paddled almost as much as some of the thug-boys who would start fights in the classroom (though they were then sent to "alternative school.") And then I went on to, oh, actually *do something with myself,* while my supposedly angelic classmates followed the script as they always had, and just popped out babies immediately after graduation (if they made it that far).
The brilliance of all of this, though, is that each teacher who tried to punish me or restrain me to some sense just succeeded in educating me further, making me more resilient, making me introverted and studious, making me question religious zealots such as my sixth grade teacher, instead opting for my own method of "being a good person," etc. I never had a truly "good teacher" until I was in high school, when I had several independent, free-thinking teachers who, finally, encouraged my individuality and love for learning. Other than that handful of teachers, my parents really had a hard job of reassuring me that being intelligent *was* a good thing, that I wasn't a freak, and that all of those people who were doubting me were just jealous and resentful. I really appreciate their diligence and constant attention to my educational needs. (I won't even get into the rest of my family, though).