Crazy, busy fingers

It’s a terrible photo, I know. But you try taking a photo of a pellet of gum, wrapped in five loom bands. Yes, you read that right: it’s a pellet of gum, wrapped in five loom bands. (I know, because I took them off and counted them, which is why I can’t take a better photo, and no I’m not asking her to do it again, because that would be crazy.)

This is a flag-staking post: my kids are gifted. No, I don’t have the certificates that say so, but we are an evidence-based household and the evidence is here in spades. Usually, on the floor. Scratch that: it’s on every flat surface, spilling out of drawers, in our beds at night. And so I offer Exhibit A: a pellet of gum, wrapped in loom bands.

A pellet of gum, wrapped in loom bands isn’t an IQ score. What it is is the product of a child so busy, so wired, so ON, all the time, that nearly everyone struggles to keep up with her ideas and her waterfall of talk, a child whose fingers and toes ITCH to be doing something, even when she’s already doing something. (As I write, she is making things with light clay, while watching videos online; I have about half an hour before she throws it down and begs me to wrestle her.) I already knew she was like this when I came across Heidi Klass Gable’s Ted Talk and first learned about Dabrowski’s over-excitabilities – this one, the crazy-busy fingers one, is psycho-motor oe. At the same time, I had a profound that’s MY child moment – the sort of moment I had not had when reading up on sensory-processing disorder or ADHD or anything else I could think of to explain the busy and the noisy and the intensity and her freakish ability to do many more things than I was aware of.

The profound recognition in that moment brought me to the other OEs: emotional, imaginational, intellectual, sensory. We aren’t so much about the sensory. It’s there, but I know many people way more sensory than we are. The rest of it, though? The rest of it fitted us so well, I finally had to accept something I’d been denying for a long time: we are gifted.

I had a very hard time, coming to that point. There was the issue of my own baggage (another post entirely, or possibly a book); there was the issue of my leftie bias against any form of elitism; there were my friends who don’t believe in giftedness, those who think it’s merely a polite way of saying ASD, and those who believe it is a straight-up elitist scam. Certainly, there are contexts where those things may be true. We all make our own and group meanings out of the most fundamental phenomena; that’s human nature.

So I’m not going to try to convince you. I’m going to use the Columbus Group Definition that most educators (and parents of gifted kids) use:

Giftedness is asynchronous development in which advanced cognitive abilities and heightened intensity combine to create inner experiences and awareness that are qualitatively different from the norm.  This asynchrony increases with higher intellectual capacity.  The uniqueness of the gifted renders them particularly vulnerable and requires modifications in parenting, teaching and counseling in order for them to develop optimally.  (The Columbus Group, 1991)

And I can’t answer for anybody else. I’m just going to write about our experience of giftedness, because writing about it helps me understand, because finally accepting that label gave me a useful search term and some tremendously useful connections, and because maybe there’s someone else out there who’s as lost and confused as I was for such a long time.

Anyway, there it is: a pellet of gum, wrapped in five loom bands. In our house, #thisishwhatgiftedlookslike.