Second, you’ll notice over the next week that some of my posts are heavy on the introspection. I’m turning 30 on June 21, which has led to me looking back at my life so far, wondering where the turning points were, and where I want to go from here. I hope you’ll indulge me.
Every now and then I complain here about my strong-willed, independent, brilliant daughter. I wonder how I managed to breed such a child, and then I think back to myself, and realize: oh yeah, that’s exactly how I was. Emphasis on was.
I was a child who could best be described as precocious. Stubborn, willful, and amazingly intelligent. I was reading and writing at three years old. I found kindergarten to be boring. I knew I was smart and I was proud of it. I was an only child, who had a large vocabulary, a vivid imagination, and a desire to converse with adults. Forget kids my age – they were too immature for me.
I have few memories of my early years, but I remember the first day of first grade vividly. The teacher told us we were going to learn to read. I already knew how to read! I was going to impress her! She passed out the Dick & Jane books, and asked if anyone was able to read the first page. My hand shot up, and I practically fell out of my chair trying to be noticed. She called on me and I clearly read the first two pages. She then asked me to read the next two pages, which I did with pride. At that point, she got a weird look on her face, stood up, and took my hand, saying “Come with me.”
I was puzzled by her reaction, and wondered if I had done something wrong. She led me out into the hall and told me, “You don’t belong in first grade reading. So you’re going to go to second grade for reading.” I was brought into the second grade classroom and left there for reading, before being returned to first grade for the remainder of the day. I was both excited and embarrassed. Excited to be told I was ahead of others and to have my intelligence validated, but embarrassed to sit there with all of those second graders looking at me funny, and then return to my own class with their weird looks as well. I didn’t feel so proud of myself now.
That year we took IQ tests, and I qualified to spend one day a week in a gifted ed program for the remainder of my elementary school years. There was talk of advancing me one or two grades as well, but my mom refused. I was already 6 years old going on 20, and she saw no reason to speed things up any more than that. I was told I had so much potential – I could be anything I wanted to with a brain like mine, and I dreamed of being an astronaut, or a vet, or a marine biologist. By fourth grade, the standardized tests said I had the knowledge of an average 12th grade student.
In my years of school, though, the primary thing I learned was this: intelligence was not a trait to be admired, and it was better to be only mediocre. My regular teachers refused to call on me often, preferring to focus their attention on underperforming students, and so I learned to raise my hand less often. I would get in trouble for finishing my work too quickly and then finding myself bored, so I learned to slow down and drag my feet.
I was teased and hated by my classmates for getting such good grades, and so I learned to intentionally put less work into what I did. My strong-willed nature was not a good trait for the playground, and so I learned to follow the crowd. The other kids were uninterested in what I had to say, and so I learned to talk about more trivial things, like who was interested in who and which boys had cooties. I had no care for make-up or fashion or girlie things, but by the end of 5th grade I was convinced I was ugly and fat.
The only days I felt like myself were the days when I was in the gifted ed program. There I was surrounded by fellow misfits from the four elementary schools in town, and I was happy to have as much knowledge crammed into my brain as I could take. These kids were easier to talk to, and the teacher, Mrs. Sager, was understanding of our plight.
The gifted ed program ended after 5th grade. I survived junior high and high school, although sadly what I had learned from elementary school stayed with me. I remained mediocre, still smart, but trying to stay out of sight or hide my good grades. My will was broken, and I was insecure, self-conscious, and unpopular, despite my attempts to be otherwise.
Around the time of my high school graduation, I received a letter in the mail. It was sent by Mrs. Sager, but it was written by me. I had forgotten that we wrote ourselves letters in 5th grade, letters to our future selves that we would get when we graduated.
I had to laugh at my poor writing skills – I never was good at handwriting. But the remainder of the letter had nothing to laugh at. My 5th grade self hoped that I was no longer “such a nerd” and hoped even more that I wasn’t “still fat and ugly.” While this person wanted to be an astronaut, she conceded that it was “probably too high of an aspiration for someone like you,” and she was right. I no longer knew what I wanted to do with myself. I had no hopes and dreams beyond getting to college. I ended my letter with, “I hope you can pull yourself together and maybe do something important someday.”
The last line gave me a small glimmer of hope. Even my downtrodden 5th grade self still hoped for something better, and knew that even though I didn’t fit in, I still had some potential in me, somewhere. I held that line in my heart, going to college with no career ideas in mind, but wanting to find my love of learning again. I graduated from college with honors, and I was proud of myself. I have yet to finish my Master’s degree, and may never finish it, since I’m now shifting gears to go back to school for nursing. The lessons of childhood are still with me: I suffer from laziness, I struggle with putting as much work into something as I should, I don’t think of myself as all that smart anymore, and my self-image remains painfully negative.
But I am making progress, trying to find that girl who was strong-willed, independent, and intelligent. Looking at Cordelia is like looking at the old me. I see her as my do-over of sorts. While I do not want to live my life again through her, I do intend to prevent her personality from being squashed by institutionalism. I am looking at alternative schooling for her, either through Montessori or private school. I want her to see the potential she has and follow it through. As long as I can help it, she won’t don the mask of a false persona crafted by the wishes of those who want her to be more like everyone else. And as annoying as her stubbornness can be sometimes, I remind myself that the alternative can be far worse, and I try hard to encourage her passions and be proud of her accomplishments.
Maybe she will teach me how to find my old self again?
I think it’s so great that you can identify her “independence” as a positive. My daughter is like that as well – very head strong. And I love it. I was and am the same way.
I too want to foster it within her. This is a great post. I love it when you’re all introspective!
What a wonderful post. Thanks for sharing that with us.
Reading your post, I could have sworn that it was someone writing about me. I remember being pulled out of class too. And the gifted program. And trying to fit in. All the mixed messages.
Likewise, I hope to encourage my girls without overwhelming them or sending them mixed messages. I think keeping our own confusing childhoods in mind will help us shape the childhoods of our own kids.
Great post. My son is (or was) fairly gifted (with bad handwriting as well). He seems to want so badly to be a “normal boy” though. He doesn’t want to be in the advanced reading, even though he can read far above his grade level. I feel bad pushing him to do more, to be more, but at the same time I don’t want to push him too hard.
Oh yikes.. like Mother Goose.. I could easily have written that post. I also think that Stella and Cordelia could be twins. Well… maybe not twins… That is Grant’s job.
I also suffer from the curse of being undermotivated… and have a horribly low self esteem.
Maybe we should meet for lunch sometime and give each other nothing but wonderful positive praise!
I’ve often mused over how contradictory society’s expectations can be. The qualities we don’t admire in children are the same ones that we praise heavily in adults. And conversely, the qualities we praise in children are criticized in adults.
You are very wise to see your daughter’s qualities for what they are…unique and valuable…and to seek an environment that will foster them. Truth be told, I am terrified of the public school system and the homogenization that is inherently a by-product of it.
Congrats on your plans for nursing school. I’m so happy for you. (That was one of my dreams but the sight of other people’s blood makes me extremely ill)
I wish you could see yourself the way others do. I don’t have to “know” you to see how bright and amazing you
are 🙂
I think we were separated at birth. It makes you wonder how we would all turn out if we weren’t all so beaten down by life.
I have Hailey in Montessori Toddler School and (so far) her independence is totally intact. I highly recommend.
I am so sorry that you were not challenged in school. That must have been a horrible feeling. But you are still so young. You can still do so much. Don’t forget those feelings that you had about yourself when you were entering kindgerten. Mediate on them and believe in yourself again. You can still do anything.
30 wasn’t near as tramatic for me as 29 was…and the thought of nearing 40 hurts me bad
This is a wonderful post and I have to say, too, that it sounds like me and my life and what I want for my kids also. Plus I’m turning 30 this year too! LOL!
Anyway, I want montessori or homeschool for my two boys. I haven’t decided which one yet but we’ve got one more year to decide for sure I think.
One thing I would like to say is that I think you are very smart and it shows so much in your writing.
I’ve spent today musing along similar lines. I was at my husband’s graduation and reliving my own. I’m a very different person now from what I thought I would be when I was younger – less driven, certainly less successful.
I really enjoyed reading this post – keep that introspection coming!
Wow.
I often joke with my husband that you are my long lost twin. Today’s post proved no different.
I too dealt with similar shit during my schooling that turned me into a lazy, self-loathing underachiever. Gifted programs, dumbing myself down, etc. I wish I could do it over now.
I struggle with pushing my daughter. I know she is intelligent. I know she has so much potential. I want her to know happiness and feel satiated by her existance. I feel like a gemologist staring at a raw diamond trying to decide where to make the first cut. One wrong move and the diamond’s value is obliterated. How do I challenge her without killing her self-esteem?
I wish you luck. I love reading about you and Cordy, as it gives me insight to the future and hope.
Oh Christina, this was just so lovely. You ARE that self. Or rather, the you that WE meet here seems exactly like the you that you describe.
And Cordy is so lucky for this. So lucky. To have such a strong, committed, intelligent mother, who wants the world for her.
(Thanks for the Basement plug, BTW)
I so agree, 100% with our hopes for our children.
Check this out!
http://www.raisingsmallsouls.com/wp-content/themes/179/aschool.html
Really Good Clip!
I’m sorry you went through that as a child-I think it’s a tough road to be in that situation.
The good thing is, you will make sure your daughter receives the stimulation she needs.
It’s never too late to finish your Masters. BTW, I posted last night about the travails of being a student in her 30s.
This is one of my very favourite posts you have written. It was so honest and heart felt. It also really touched me as something I needed to hear. My son is exactly as you described yourself. Super bright. My husband and I quarrel about whether public school would be the wrong choice for him and we currently have him in a Montessori School where he is thriving and has alot of self confidence and happiness and good friends. I was tested “gifted” and went through the public school system but didn’t have the same experience that you so poignantly wrote about. Thanks for sharing this. Thanks so much.
Breathtaking post.
I once had a girl tell me she didn’t want to be my friend anymore because I used big words.
I was nine.
I still try to use small words to this day…
Sigh.
Wow this post reminds me so much of myself. I spent all of my elementary years in a private school in which we were a few grades ahead of public schools. In 7th grade I was switched to a public school and my world was rocked. I taught myself to slack off in order to “fit in” with the other students, although I had already done all of the work we were doing when I was in 4th grade. This followed me all through school and because of it I performed badly in high school. I didn’t want to be seen as the smart, nerdy girl, so I got worse grades so that I could be accepted. I remember complaining about Chemistry being so hard, when it was all really easy to me but I didn’t want everyone else to know it.
I feel for you and I feel for Cordy. Good luck with all of this!
Wow, I feel like I could have written this post. It’s a terrible tragedy that children come to view intelligence this way – especially girls. Listening to your 5th grade letter I can’t believe how much self-loathing you had then! I was the exact same way. Hugs. And I turn 30 a month after you, and I’ve been fighting the introspection like crazy. I’ll look to you for inspiration.
Christina, another inspirational post! I had memories of my own elemtary school days flooding back. My mom was a teacher and “forced” me to learn reading and writing before kindergarten. My teacher was very supportive, until first grade, too, like you– I was called upon less often. Unfortunately, I never pulled it together, I dropped out of college, got married and had my son and now I think, “Did I do this backwards?”
Who knows…life is so funny. Maybe I will figure it out. I sure hope my son doesn’t grow into mediocrity. And I’m so glad your Cordelia has such an amazing mom who recognizes her potential and will do whatever it takes to support it!
Sorry this is so long…I got lost in the moment! 🙂