Early Enrollment Myths: Social And Emotional Fit

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Image: Alkawa Ke

B mentioned a few months ago that she'd like to go to school next year.

Her request caused a myriad of emotions that I am working through, but that is a different post.

We are fortunate to live in an area with many charter schools and a good public school district. I found a small Montessori-based charter for next year, and set a time for her to shadow a classroom and see what it was like. While she visited, I sat down with the assistant director to ask some important questions.

Among other things, I asked how the school approached teaching a child who was in 2nd grade, but working at a much higher level in some subjects. The answer was reasonable - the kids are assessed at the beginning of the year to determine their academic levels. If they are working at various grade levels, they are placed in the appropriate grade for the that part of the day. Classes are multi-age. Students are grouped K/1st, 1st/2nd, and 3rd/4th. Chances are good that B will spend part of her day in the 1st/2nd class and the majority in the 3rd/4th class.

I asked about early enrollment for kindergarten. C will turn 5 a few months after the August cut-off date. I don't plan on sending her to school at this point, but sometimes life throws you a curve ball, and I like to know my options. I don't think preschool would be a good fit.  She is reading well and catching on to math quickly - she has almost caught up to B without any formal instruction. Her favorite friends are 6 & 7 and they like to play with her too.  The K/1st class could be a good option for her.

The administrator's tone changed.

"We do not take any early enrollment. We have found that it is rarely a good social fit."

She continued,

"You know, it's really much better for them not to start early. You see it clearly right around middle school and high school. It's difficult for them to be emotionally younger than their classmates.  They have a hard time fitting in."

I sighed inwardly as I heard the fallacy that so many teachers and administrators believe despite the well-researched work of Assouline and Coangelo and many others. "Acceleration is bad. It doesn't work socially. We should slow them down when they are young so they will fit in as teenagers."

She couldn't see the contradiction in her answers. According to that philosophy, won't B run into the same problems? What if B completes the work through 4th grade - will they keep her in the building so she will be with age-peers instead of moving her on to the 5th-8th grade campus?

More importantly, if you have a child who is learning at a rapid speed, whose mind is years ahead and they don't fit in with age-peers at four or five years old, why on earth would you assume that same child will magically fit in with age-peers in seven years when they begin middle school?

As Ann Shoplik wisely said, "Academically talented children may complain because they feel “different” or socially isolated from other students in their grade. Moving them ahead actually helps them to fit in better, because they share similar interests with the older students who are closer to their intellectual level."

B is still thinking her about her final decision. She's talked to me about the pros and cons and will make her choice by the end of June.

If she goes, how will I advocate for her? If C follows in a year, how do I encourage administration to look beyond her age, and to her personality and ability?  Have you been through this or have similar questions of your own?

Thankfully, my friend Celi from Crushing Tall Poppies just wrote a book that answers many of these questions, and she'll be guest posting here next week!



A few resources on acceleration and early enrollment:

Skip a Grade? Start Kindergarten Early? It's not so Easy - NPR

What is Holding Back America's Brightest Students? - Jonathan Wai @ CreativityPost.com 

Accelerated - Noah's Story

The Art of Carefully Stepping Out of the Way

image: Rachel Samanyl. Modifications: TSL

Do you interrupt your children's learning?

I recently found some new games for the iPad, including one called "Montezuma Puzzle". It's basically a puzzle version of Tetris. The game displays an empty box, along with a bunch of different shaped pieces and your job is to fit them all together.

The girls and I worked together at first, and then I found other things to do. I walked by to check their progress and saw that B had discovered the "hint" button. They were now using it to complete about 85% of the puzzle.

I scolded them a bit for using it to guide them. B argued back, followed by abandoning the game to do something else. Both girls were now grumpy and bickered back and forth during their play.

I was annoyed with myself. I had interfered and created an issue where there was none. The girls had been independently taking turns, assisting each other and having fun. They just weren't doing it the way I expected them to.

Over the next week, they played the game together on and off. If I had the urge to look or comment, I busied myself with something else.

And then I heard, "Ok, if you can't figure it out, use the hint."

I sat down near them to spy. B and C were completing the puzzles by themselves, asking each other for advice when they got stumped, and using the hint button on the harder puzzles.

I had failed to recognize in the early days of play that they were naturally scaffolding. The puzzles were new and challenging, and the hint wasn't cheating; it was modeling. The girls were moving through the steps of learning...examples, modeling, try it with some help, do it independently. When I got involved, I disturbed their flow. The process became frustrating and annoying, and came to a halt.

The key lesson about unschooling that I have found to be the most challenging and most necessary to learn is this: I have to get out of the way. Be a facilitator. Not a micromanager.

Adults are used to sequential learning, because it's how most of us were taught. Some kids learn well this way, some do not. No matter the method of choice, all kids LEARN, with or without adults peeking over their shoulder. I find every day that more learning is accomplished without my intervention.

It's been a transformation for me. I began as a public school teacher and became a structured homeschooler. Life happened, and we became "relaxed homeschoolers" which led to my discovery that less is more, especially when it comes gifted kids, and unschooling was the best fit for us.

B summed it up succinctly the other day while experimenting in the kitchen. I offered her a cookbook, to which she replied, "Why would I want to follow a boring recipe, Mom? It's way more fun to not know what I am doing at first, and keep trying. All of a sudden, my brain figures it out, and I know just what I need to do."

Yes, indeed.

The Day My Kids Tried to Capture the Neighbors

My kids come up with some pretty crazy ideas. They are imaginative and funny, with a good dose of mischief.

Yesterday was a beautiful day here in Northern Arizona. While my east coast friends and family have piles of snow to play in, we have crisp air, and sunshine that feels like spring. 

I sat in the back yard working on a paper for a class while my girls played, They both mentioned riding bikes, so I suggested that we ride bikes to our neighborhood park, where they could continue playing together, and I could concentrate on my work. 

Once we arrived, B decided that she wanted to climb a tree, study nature and write in her journal. C was lonely and needed someone to play with. Her attempts to cajole B out of the tree were met with disdain, so she turned to me for entertainment. 

I played for a bit, but I really needed to get going on my paper. I asked B to please find it in her heart to come down from the tree and play with her sister. 

They raced around and had a snack, and interrupted my train of thought about every 45 seconds. This was not working.

"Guys. PLEASE figure out something to play. Make up a game. Have a contest. Please play without me for fifteen minutes."

Off they went, and I was able to make some good headway on my assignment. 

About ten minutes later, a school bus dropped some high school students off at the sidewalk. I looked around to see what the girls were doing. I saw C, waving at the bus driver and students, but I couldn't see B from my place in the grass. I stood up, and spotted B under her bike. It looked as though she had taken a spill. I quickened my pace.

"B, are you alright? What happened?"

"Mom, go away! You'll ruin our plan!"

"Plan?"

"Yes. We are trying to get someone to come help us so we can capture them!"

Upon further investigation, I discovered that the point of the pretend game was to make drivers think that B was in peril (she was also mouthing "help" so drivers could see her, but I wouldn't hear her), and then when someone stopped, B & C would capture the unsuspecting helper and tie them to a tree!

I was torn between laughing hysterically and tying them to a tree. ;)

I decided that it was time to go home.

I am pretty sure that this will not be their craziest scheme, considering they are only 4 and 6. 

What is the wildest plot your kids have come up with? Share it with me in the comments - I'd love to know I'm in good company!

 

{GHF Blog Hop} Parenting and OE's: Is Sensitivity Your Child's Super Power?

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Our house is bouncing constantly with overexcitability. If you are unfamiliar with that term,

"Overexcitabilities (OEs) are inborn, heightened abilities to receive and respond to stimuli. They are expressed in increased sensitivity, awareness, and intensity. Each form of overexcitability points to a higher than average sensitivity of its receptors. As a result a person endowed with different forms of overexcitability reacts with surprise, puzzlement to many things, he collides with things, persons, and events which in turn brings him astonishment and disquietude." (Dabrowski, 1964)

There are five types of overexcitabilities: emotional, psychomotor, intellectual, sensual, and imaginational. On a regular basis, the members of the family alternate between high levels of emotion, the need to move, and a desire to learn and do everything as often as possible. We each have various levels of sensory comfort and discomfort, and there is no shortage of imagination.

It can make life interesting.

For this post, I am going to focus on the emotional overexcitability, which is most likely my strongest of the OE's, and we all enjoy a healthy dose of it.  

image: JD Hancock, text added by TSL

I have a tendency to take on others' emotions and react accordingly. I can't watch or read the news on particularly bad months. I feel the responsibility to make the world a better place, and my heart aches when I am unable to do so.

I cannot make it through an airport without tearing up. It's a family joke at this point - but the soldiers in uniform meeting their families, the mother with two small children holding handmade "Welcome home, Daddy" signs, and the father nervously putting his 8 year old daughter on the plane by herself, wiping away a tear as the gate closes, send my emotions into hyper-drive.  

I am a big, sappy dork, and the more I accept it, the more pronounced it gets.

*  *  *  *  *

B's emotional OE often comes in the form of a desire for social justice. She has a sense of urgency and action, rather than tears, when it comes to those who need help. She zeroes in on the homeless, the animals, the families in need. She is unselfish and willing to do whatever needs done. She is extremely environmentally conscious and cannot fathom why we don't all drive electric cars and use solar and wind power as much as possible already.

Her relationships with family members become volatile quickly. She flies into a rage, she defends with abandon, she loves with her whole heart and soul. She views herself more like a twelve or thirteen year old might, worrying about the blemishes on her face, what she is wearing in public, and how other people will see her.

She is intense. The asynchronies involved make emotions even more complicated, as she feels and thinks like an early teen, but reacts like the six year old she is.

*  *  *  *  *

C is our lover. She is one of the most empathetic children I have known. From a very young age, she would act out in response to my emotions. It took a few years to discover this was the impetus behind her behaviors, and now I refer to her as my emotional barometer.  It can be exhausting, as my bad day becomes her very bad day. We are both learning to adjust to each other. 

C dislikes most movies, especially movies that have a component of bullying, unkind/unfair behavior, or too many bad guys. She can assess when she has a lot of emotion boiling up inside and will ask to watch Spirit (a 2002 Disney movie about a stallion that leads his herd across the frontiers and meets many challenges), so she can "cry [her] sadness out." I don't know if I will ever become accustomed to the depth of her emotional understanding.

Her mood swings are hurricanes, but the cycle is becoming predictable. She begins with the quick and violent fury, followed by the passionate cry, then comes the hysterical laughter, and finally the apologetic hugs. She is learning her cycle as well, and I am hoping that with maturity, she will be able to fine tune it.

Both girls have a strong memory for feelings, and expect deep friendship among those they meet. They remember children's names months after chance encounters at a random playland or the park. They form quick attachments to children of all ages, and are heartbroken when these fleeting acquaintances do not want to expand their friendships. B is overjoyed to begin working with the 8-12 year old group at gymnastics, with whom she fits in much more easily than her previous class. At just barely four, C's best interactions are with the eight year old boy she plays video games with at the gym while I watch her sister's class. But, again, asynchronies make these relationships unpredictable when emotions begin to overwhelm.

*  *  *  *  *

So, how does our family function with this circus of emotional intensity? How does my logic-embracing husband handle all of us?

I keep a favorite quote on my refrigerator from Corin Goodwin, and read it often.

 "The times when kids need your love most may be the times when they behave in the most unloving ways. Try to understand what is happening in their heads and their hearts, and address that first."

Empathy and understanding are our foundations. We do our best to meet our children in their moment and support them.  I have adjusted my strategy from a "how can I fix this?" perspective to a "how can I help you right now?" perspective. This approach gives my girls ownership of their intensity, and validates their feelings. They do not want advice or distractions.  They want me to appreciate their sensitivity and let them express it.

We discuss our feelings a lot, and the girls are becoming more self-aware. We use "I feel" statements, and "You feel/you need...am I understanding correctly?" questions.  Yoga is helpful for regulating all of us, and playing outside together clears the mind. We embrace the ecstatically happy moments and hold on tighter during the soul-wrenching sad times. 

More than anything, we accept each other, overexcited emotions and all.  I hope with age and maturity, the girls will find that this abundance of intuition and feeling is a super power. Emotional overexcitability opens your eyes and heart to a glimpse of the world that most people never get to experience, and I am grateful for my view.

This has been successful for our family. What works for yours? Please let me know in the comments.

This blog post is part of the December GHF Blog Hop - Parenting OEs, 2Es, and Everything in Between. Check out the other talented bloggers insights on parenting gifted children here!

Resources:

Overexcitability and the Highly Gifted Child from Davidson Institute for Talent Development

Sensitivity in Gifted Children from Ian Byrd

Emotional Sensitivities from Gifted Kids Ireland

Parenting Emotionally Intense Children from Talent Development Resources  - (this article discusses how it feels to live in a society that does not value feelings - great perspectives!)


References:

Dabrowski, K. (1964). Positive disintegration. London: Little, Brown & Co. (Out of print).

Choose Your Own Adventure - Three Year Old Edition

image: Kristina Alexanderson

Adventure #1

It is 37 degrees outside, and the wind is gusting up to 40mph. As you walk to the car, the cold air sends goosebumps down your spine.

(I know, I know. 37 degrees is not that cold. But I am an Arizonan. We are a warm weather people.)

 You get everyone buckled into the car and leave for your destination.

Two minutes later, you hear a request. "Mom, please may I roll my window down? I really want to roll my window down."

 You choose. 
 Choice 1: You deny the request. It's cold and no one needs their window down right now. The heater is on, for heaven's sake.
 Choice 2: You unlock the window.

 >>You have chosen #1. 

 "No, honey, it's cold outside. We don't need our windows down."

 Three year old immediately breaks down, tears rolling, loud wails fill the car. Complete breakdown ensues. The six year old is now holding her ears and crying because the three year old is so stinking loud. You arrive at your destination on time, but enter twenty minutes behind schedule due to the amount of time it takes to calm everyone back down.

 >>You have chosen #2. 

 "Alright, if you say so."

 Window rolls down. You brace yourself for the cold, but surprisingly, it is not that noticeable. A minute or two later, you hear a song from the back seat.

 "The wind is blowing, and I feel in my heart. It is so beautiful and I love the wind. I don't know why but I just love the wind, and I love the wind in my heart..." 

 There are few things cuter than a three year old singing original songs.

 After about a mile's worth of this, she says, "Okay. I am done with this window. It is cold outside."

 The window rolls up. Everyone is in a happy mood. You arrive at your destination and enter on time. You feel like a good mom today.

Adventure #2

Children are tucked into bed. Stories have been read, waters have been sipped, blankets have been placed the right way. Good night, dear children. 8:05pm.

You finally get to sit down next to your husband, where you plan to drink a glass of wine, maybe even finish an uninterrupted sentence.

Just as you get comfortable, a three year old voice travels down the stairs. 8:10pm.

"Mom, I have a question. Will you snuggle me?"

You choose. 
Choice 1: You deny the request. You've already hugged, kissed, tucked, snuggled, and you are tired. 
Choice 2: You go snuggle.

>>You have chosen #1.

"Sweetie, I have already snuggled you. You are supposed to be in your bed. Please go lay down and go to sleep."

Three year old turns for her room, big sobs causing her whole body to shudder. She returns to bed, where she proceeds to cry louder and louder. Now six year old is crying. She can't read because three year old is so stinking loud. Husband retreats to the garage to "check on some things". You gulp some wine and climb the stairs to begin damage control. Many minutes and tears and tissues later, the house is calm again. You go to bed, no wine, no conversation. You are exhausted. It is 9:07pm.

>>You have chosen #2.

"Sure, honey. I'll be right there."

You scoot into bed beside her and she wraps your arms around her body just so, and presses her little forehead to yours. She asks you to stay "to 100" and counts sleepily to somewhere in the 80's at which point she nods off. You muse about how perfectly her forehead fits into the curves of your face. Her breath becomes even, her arms limp. You stay for a few extra seconds to soak up what's left of her baby-ness. You gently slide out of her bed, and walk back down the stairs.

It is now 8:17pm and you have a quiet house. You might even get to read a book tonight.

Adventure #3

Six year old asks for her piggy bank. She has promised to pay three year old two dollars in exchange for three year old singing a song with her.

You choose:
Choice #1: You deny the request. "Two dollars for singing a song? Money is not for playing with, you know."
Choice #2: You get the piggy bank.

>>You have chosen #1.

Six year old gets angry. "It's MY money. I earned it. I PROMISED I would pay her. Do you want me to break my promise? You are making me into a BAD SISTER!" She stomps off to her room. Three year old is now crying because she wants the two dollars she was promised. There is a good chance that six year old is attempting to climb her bookshelf and get the bank herself, which will probably lead to injury. You sigh and head upstairs, most likely to argue some more.

>>You have chosen #2.

"Sure, here you go."

You listen as six year old gives three year old a little lesson on the different types of money in her bank, and quizzes her what the coins are and how much they are worth. Three year old wants to pay her sister for her lesson, and asks for her own bank. Two more dollars are exchanged. There are "thank you's" and "I love you's" spoken. They put away their money. You mentally check "teach some math today" off of the on-going list in your head.

*  *  *  *  *

Grown ups just can't see the whole little-kid picture sometimes. We see from the practical view, the "you'll put your eye out!" mind-set. Children hear the song in the wind, the sweetness of that last hug before sleep. I wish I could say that I always chose #2, and my household was always pleasant and idyllic. Sometimes I can't see past the sensible solution, or the quickest means to my end. But more often, I do, and the results often teach me a new perspective. For that, I  am thankful.

Lost in Translation

Our family often has moments in which we notice that we don't quite fit in outside our home. Whether it's a glance from a stranger when we are deep in an unusual conversation, or the double-takes when our girls break out into spontaneous interpretive dance at the mall because the mood strikes (with or without music), it's often an adventure.

Here are a few examples of recent instances that within the house, seemed perfectly normal, but out of the house, caused some raised eyebrows.  If you can relate, or your kids have done the same, come on over. We could use a playdate with some kindred spirits. :)

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We love They Might Be Giants. We have a Youtube list full of their songs. C's favorite song is "What is a Shooting Star", and B's is "Put it to the Test". Even A will sit and chuckle with us, putting her "I'm a cool teenager" persona aside to laugh at the scientist who gets eaten by his plant. I crack up at the "Seven" song. It's not uncommon for one of us to shout, "We want cake! Where's our cake?" when discussing dessert options.

...but transplant that fun time into the birthday party of some kid whose family we hardly know, and my girls see the birthday cake and chant, "We want cake! Where's our cake?" ...

Based on their reaction, that family clearly does not watch They Might Be Giants videos for fun. Sigh. 

*  *  *  *  *

B enjoys the American Girl series, and her favorite girl is Kaya, who is from the Nez Perce tribe. The Kaya books have a glossary of Nez Perce words, and B has learned many. The Nez Perce believed in animal spirit guides, called "wyakins". My little fairy girl loves the idea of this, and told us her wyakin is a dog. Some fun conversations about various Native American beliefs and traditions have spawned from the books. 

...now imagine a Girl Scout meeting, at which a police officer has come to tell the girls about his job, and he has brought his German Shepherd police dog. During question/answer time, B pipes up and tells everyone that she has a wyakin, a spirit guide, and he is a dog that looks just like the policeman's. 

<<<crickets chirping>>>

The police officer was very kind, and said, "Well, that's pretty cool", and moved on, but based on their expressions, I don't think the other moms & kids have read the Kaya books.  

*  *  *  *  *

B has a book called "A Genuine and Moste Authentic Guide: Princess" that she reads like it's her gospel. I have to say, her table manners and posture have improved greatly. She has also learned some "frustrated princess" words, and it's not unusual to hear her muttering, "Dash it and diamonds!" or "Flippering frogs!" when things aren't going her way. 

...now fast-forward to a gymnastics class. She is having a difficult time with a skill, and exclaims "Curses and crowns!"  I'm so happy that her coach appreciates all of her idiosyncrasies. I am fairly certain that the other girls in her class have not read the  princess book, though, judging from the looks on their faces.

*  *  *  * *

I might be the only at the bookstore who gets it when B sings "Mary Pope Osborne has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find them..." then dissolves in giggles. Her dad and I might be the only ones who understand what she is talking about at a big gathering when she states "I need some quiet. I'm over-excited right now." 

B told me the other night, "You know, Mom, it's the weird things about you that make you special."

I couldn't agree more!

image: Loulse Docker

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Library Card Blues

If I need to find B, she is usually sitting on the floor, immersed in her book.

She is the type of child who cannot walk past a book without sitting down to read it. Our living room, her bedroom floor, her bed...all covered in books that she is in various stages of reading.

I was the same way as a child, and the only reason this description does not continue to apply to me is that I made myself put down the book to do silly things like vacuuming and making dinner and reading a book to C, who prefers to be read to at age 3. I see her heading down the same path,  as she will sit and look at books for an hour, and her bed is just as covered with them as her sister's. If I had my way, I would sit on the couch and read beside them all day. Sometimes I do.

The librarians at our main library know us well, and rarely give us issues with the amount of books we take home. They know we will be back in a week to exchange them for more. We have been frequenting the smaller library in our town for convenience sake the past few weeks, and they are not as familiar with our habits. We were preparing for our weekly trip, and I checked our library account to see the list of the books we had checked out, in order to round them up and turn them in. I entered B's library card number.

USER BARRED. 

I chuckled to myself at the thought. She was 13 books over her 20 book limit, and had been barred for the second time at six years old. Not many children I know have that distinction.

I knew that she would not find this as amusing as I did, and it would most likely cause a serious issue if I did not resolve this before our next library trip. Later in the day, I turned in most of our books and picked up some new ones while she was at gymnastics, and spoke with the staff about her account. They set her card free again and all was well.

In the evening, as she sat among her new pile of reading material, I began to tell her the story. In my perception, it was a humorous tale, a testament to her extraordinary reading powers and a badge of honor to wear proudly. "I was banned by the library at age six for reading too much", she could someday say with pride.

Photo credit: UTS Library, NSW

Unfortunately, I only got to about sentence three of the story, the one in which I said that she was barred from using her library card, and she collapsed in a hysterical heap of tears and anguish.

"No, no, no, sweetie! Please don't cry! There is more to the story! It's all fixed - your card is fine. You can check out all the books you want! You can use my card, and C's card too, and all together that's 60 books that you can take home! It's okay, all fixed, please don't cry!!"

Ten messy, tearful minutes later, she had calmed down, gathered all the books she could balance in her small arms, held them protectively to her chest and went to her room. She did not find me or my story charming, and grudgingly accepted my apologies as she walked away.

Lesson learned. Tell the end of the story first, even if it ruins the suspense, and never, ever get between that girl and her library card.

{GHF Blog Hop} Waiting for "Ready"

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flickr

I bought B a new tooth brush. I put it in her bathroom, removed the old one, and went on with my day.

That evening, right around tooth-brushing time, there came a shriek from the bathroom.

"Where is my pink tooth brush? Whose is this red one? Where is mine?"

Followed by a five minute semi-heated discussion on the state of her pink toothbrush, the need for a new one and the strong resistance of a stubborn 6 year old.

Finally, I asked myself, "Is it really worth all of this nonsense?", took the toothbrush from the (thankfully) top of the trash can, cleaned it and gave it back to her.

Peace and clean teeth for all.

I left the new brush in the toothbrush basket, though, just in case.

About two weeks later, B found me, and told me proudly, "Mom, I was finally ready for my new toothbrush! I have been practicing with it, and I am ready to throw my pink one away."

Then she did.

She and I have talked about writing to a pen pal. The parents in one of my favorite facebook groups set up a pen pal list, and I encouraged her to participate.

"You could write to someone who is interested in the same things that you are. You could make a friend in another part of the country, or another country altogether!"

She declined. I though perhaps she didn't want to do the work of writing, or she didn't like it because it was my idea. Finally, she sighed and told me, "Mom. I am just not ready for a pen pal."

About a month later, without any assistance from me, she became pen pals with our next door neighbor, a very nice woman who loves kids. They have been writing what B calls "beautiful letters" to each other weekly.  I asked her about it, and she shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "I was just ready."

She rides her bicycle with the training wheels on. We can tell that she is capable of riding independently. She doesn't feel quite equipped for that step yet. My husband took the trainers off, hoping to force the change...instead she refused to touch the bike for two months until I convinced him to put them back on.  I am confident that she will follow her usual pattern. When she feels confident about it, she will do it, and do it well. Not on our time frame, but on hers. She'll probably take the training wheels off by herself, since she is already better with tools than I am, and I will join her for a bike ride and notice half way through the ride that they are gone.  It's the way she is.

The unknown can be difficult for any kid.  Waiting for your child to adapt to change, or try something new can be difficult for parents. The issue seems like no big deal, you can do this, why is this such a problem? Emotional overexcitability may exacerbate the situation, perhaps for the child and the parent.

So, what do you do?  I am learning to be patient, and to remember that adapting to something new is a process, not a two-second flip of the switch. I plan ahead and move gradually with the toothbrush swap, out-grown clothes removal, and rearranging the house. I give verbal notice in advance when possible. The older two are getting better at revving up their adjustment speed, and understanding that sometimes, they just have to. It's uncomfortable and unfortunate, but occasionally, it just can't be helped. Life is unpredictable, after all.

I am listening when my children tell me that they are not ready, and trusting that they know themselves better than I do. When they feel emotionally and physically equipped for the task at hand, they will accomplish it fantastically, without my prompting or intervention. It's a difficult business to sit back and wait for it to happen. But, I've never seen a mama butterfly hovering over a chrysalis to make sure the caterpillar knows what it's doing, and does it at the right time. The caterpillar senses the right timing, and the result is phenomenal.

It's a beautiful thing to watch happen.

This blog post is part of the GHF July 2014 Blog Hop. Be sure to visit these other insightful bloggers' posts on Gifted Parenting!

...A Bushel and a Peck, and a Hug Around the Neck

Months ago, B was in the throes of a terrible fit. I was out of answers, out of patience. I told her that I just didn't know what to do with her to get her to behave, and asked her how I could help her to stop.

Tears running down her face, she choked, "hug me."

Thus, what our family refers to as "hug therapy" began.

It isn't a hold-you-down-so-you-don't-break-anything hug, or a get-along-t-shirt style hug. It is a genuine hug, full of love and compassion.

When the girls are edging quickly toward a poor choice, or not listening well, or boiling over into a fit...I give them a hug. When I am at my wits' end, about to venture into the bad parenting zone, I get a hug too.

Feelings get out of control. Emotions build and grow until they explode like a scary, ugly monster. Sometimes, "frustration" becomes an understatement.

During times like this, I take my volcano-girl and envelope her in my arms, let her climb into my lap, and hug her. Some moments, my hug is fiercely returned. Other times, it is fought against. My hug then becomes a loose hug, an "I'm here when you are ready" hug.

image: flickr

B is learning to realize when she is getting out of control, and will growl in the angriest of voices, "I need a hug." Under the growl, is a sad, angry five year old who knows her emotions have escalated too far, but hasn't yet learned how to bring them back down.

The hug is is not a "get out of jail free" card, by any means. It is a moment to pull emotions out of overdrive, and back to a place in which they can be handled more appropriately. A silent reminder that I love and will encourage my girls no matter what they do. Once the crying and flailing have ceased, we revisit the source of the problem and figure out a resolution.

My littlest one often cannot stand a hug; the physical contact would be too much in the high-sensory moment. Sometimes, she simply isn't ready to let go of her fit and fury and find a less tempered spot.  In that circumstance, I give her a quick, loose hug, or just sit beside her, hoping I can express the same love and compassion, without the physical touch. Slowly, though, she is beginning to ask for a hug before she gets to "high alert".

I am not perfect, and dealing with intense emotions day in and day out can wear on me. During some particularly difficult weeks, I feel as though I do not have one more moment of patience left to give. My temperature rises and I launch into the equivalent of a mom fit. As I begin to fume, however, a little 44-inch tall figure tells me, "Mom. You need a hug." And I do.

Now and then, I behave like C, and fight the hug..."I'd love a hug, but I don't have time right now. At this moment, I just need you and your sister to please go put on your shoes like I asked you to so we are only 5 minutes late instead of 15", I will reply in a strained I'm-about-to-lose-it tone.

"Mom", She tells me firmly, "there is ALWAYS enough time for a hug."

Five year olds can be so wise.

I make time for the hug. I feel better. Somehow, we still make it out the door with 20 seconds to spare.

Shel Silverstein had it figured out, didn't he?

Hug-o-War, Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

The tantrums have decreased significantly lately. Cooperation has been on high. The kids are improving, too. ;)

It's working for us. What works for you?

P is for Perfectionist

C lays on the floor, coloring with a pencil. She screams in exasperation.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"My pencil is frustrating me!"

She erases all of her work and begins again. Five minutes later, she throws her pencil across the room in a rage. She stomps off, returns with a pair of scissors and chops the offending piece of paper into teeny-tiny pieces.

"THERE!!", she yells.

I chuckle to myself. That one is a firecracker, and sometimes I see reminders of myself in her. 

 * * * * *

At gymnastics, she is focused.  She wants to complete her skills correctly. She holds up the line while she walks on the beam. She doesn't have 100% balance, and can't bring herself to move to the next activity until she tries it again and gets it right. She steps out of line and lets others take their turn until she can attempt it again.

She is learning, carefully, that these skills...the cartwheels, the backward rolls, the pullovers...are endeavors that take time to learn, and practice to improve.

Sometimes (most times),  perfection doesn't happen on the first try.

In fact, sometimes it doesn't happen on the 56976 try.

* * * * *

B has big expectations for herself. She sets the bar high, and becomes upset with herself if she doesn't fulfill her ambitions on the first pursuit.

She has a new addition facts set to work on.  She sets her two-minute goal. She reaches it, just barely. She sets her one-minute goal - but it is twice as many problems as her two-minute goal. I interrupt her, ask her if she thinks that is reasonable given her progress in the two minute time span.

She gets irritable with me. "I can finish this today, Mom. I just want to learn them all right now."

I back away, give her space. She doesn't complete her one-minute goal. Her face is dark. She asks for a new paper.

"Are you sure? You've already..."

"I didn't do as many as I said I would. Please give me a new paper!"

Three papers later, she stomps off in frustration, only one math problem away from where she wanted to be.

"I don't understand why I can't just know them, Mom. I don't want to have to learn them."

* * * * *

"I don't want to go to gymnastics!"

"But B, you enjoy gymnastics! Your coaches love you!" After asking some questions over several weeks of complaints, and getting a variety of answers, what I believe is the real issue emerges.

"Every time I do a skill, my coach fixes me. I don't like to be fixed. I know how to do it."

I explain that although she is able to do many things, the next step is to work on her form, hold her body just right, strengthen her muscles.

"I can do that myself. I wish they wouldn't fix me."

I send her to class anyway, where she has a great day and practices hard, but makes a subtle face every time she is corrected by a coach.

* * * * *

I can empathize. I am the same way. When I was younger, if I couldn't learn something the first time that I tried it, it was "boring", "not my thing", and all of the other excuses perfectionists use. I couldn't stand being coached...by a trainer, by an expert. I could figure it out myself.

Now in my adult life, I work very hard to re-train myself away from this, for my own growth and to be a better example for my girls. It is an obstinate way to approach life, and I am trying to soften my rebel spirit a bit, and allow others to help me and teach me. It still makes me a little squirmy, though.


* * * * *

People handle perfectionism in different ways. C exhibits the more productive version as her father does, the kind that pushes you to be better, do more. B and I struggle with the halting variant that whispers, "Why try? You won't be good enough."

I want my children to strive for excellence; I know they are capable of doing whatever they set their minds to. Perfectionism, though, can be all encompassing and at times, debilitating. My husband seems to have a huge case of Imposter Syndrome, although, of course,  he does not believe it. I have a research compulsion, and read everything I can find on how to help us change the cycle. We can teach these young ones the importance of setting realistic goals, being proud of their accomplishments, and enjoying their interests without the self-deprecating words that perfectionism murmurs.

Then I have to stop and laugh at myself, and ask the hubby if he too sees the irony in my reading "Moving Past Perfectionism" in an attempt to make us better? :)

* * * * *

Some fantastic resources on helping gifted kids cope with perfectionism can be found here:

Perfectionism and the Gifted from Hoagies'

Helping Gifted Students Cope with Perfectionism, from Davidson 

Sylvia Rimm on Perfectionism from SENG

Imposter Syndrome from Hoagies'

flickr, Creative Commons