As I blew through the school doors at the end of the school day, I could feel my frustration building. My head was bursting with ideas and my heart was yearning for a place to give them voice. I wanted to struggle with ideas about education, learning, classroom environments. I wanted to challenge the purpose of why we do what we do. I wanted to dig deep into the history of education models and philosophize about future models. I wanted to compare economic engines with education trends. But where could I find a place to fall down such rabbit holes? At school, I often found my colleagues looking for a break from education speak in the staff room. Broaching the topic with non-educators resulted in glazed eyes and confusion.
As luck would have it (and I do not believe in luck), a good friend called to chat that evening. Our conversation turned to the gifted program, as I had attended as a child, we both have children identified as gifted, and at one point she taught a gifted middle school class. "I told my daughter the other day," my friend began, "that she has to remember she is not typical in how she chooses to spend her time. Her brain is wired differently, and she will struggle to find people who understand what her brain is craving." I think I actually saw a light bulb come on over my head. I only recently came to the realization that being gifted is a special education designation. Too often, and for too many people, spec ed is only about those at the low end of the intellectual spectrum, those who struggle to attain typical academic performance. But it was this same friend who retaught me the principle that gifted students also have special education needs, and also struggle to attain typical performances and behaviours. If a parent comes to me now about their gifted child, I will often relay this point of view: special education programs are about more than academics - they are about understanding the atypical brain of a child and how to help them truly reach their full potential. I have long advocated for my gifted students, and my own gifted child. But what I failed to see is that as I grew into an adult, my atypical brain did not suddenly become typical. It is still wired in a way that is different from most other adults. My friend's advice to her daughter suddenly became very personal: "Your brain is wired differently, and you will struggle to find people who understand what your brain is craving." This realization was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing that eased the frustration of why no one else seemed to have the urgency within them to grapple with the difficult philosophical aspects of our work. A curse in that my yearning for a "tribe" might go unmet. In the age of the internet I am able to connect online, but the stilted, time- and space- constrained online environment never fully appeases my longing to metaphorically sit around the fire and work out challenging ideas. Recently a few adult friends of mine have learned they struggle with dyslexia or attention deficit disorder (ADD). Going back to university as adults allowed them the chance to finally found out why public school was such a struggle for them. Understanding their diagnosis helps them to function better as adults in all sorts of situations. I'm not sure why I never put two and two together a gifted diagnosis would follow me into adulthood the same way dyslexia or ADD would. I'm energized now to uncover more about an adult understanding of my brain, and encouraged that I can find strategies and understandings that will help me in life.
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Terri-AnnPersonal reflections on project-based learning. Archives
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