Since last year, Stephen has scored above the 98% in reading and math for his grade, officially earning him the label “Gifted.” We were informed by the school that he would receive an “ALP” or “Advanced Learning Plan” to help him achieve at his level.
(Eric and I lamented the lack of scan-tron tests back in “our day,” as we would have surely also been “gifted.” Eric reminded me that he was one of 10 students to receive a full-ride scholarship to college based on his entrance test; I reminded him that I scored higher on the SAT’s….but I digress…we were talking about STEPHEN’s giftedness…not sure where he got that…)
Along with the ALP came a letter inviting us to “SENG,” which stands for “Supporting the Emotional Needs of Gifted students.” I was rather surprised that the parents of gifted children require a support group. But I signed up, thinking we may benefit from the class.
Upon arriving at the class, we sat in a circle and received copies of “A Parent’s Guide to Gifted Children.” The instructor said to go around, introduce ourselves, and explain what we wanted to get out of the group. I went first:
“Well, I saw there was free childcare, so I signed up. And I thought there would be doughnuts?”
The room remained silent, the faces of the nerd-parents staring blankly at me.
“Just kidding. Ahem. Really, I mean, I’m here to learn how to better parent my son….?”
We continued around the circle (apparently the correct answer was “to help my gifted child reach his/her full potential.” Damn. And there were NO doughnuts!)
The class continued, the parents commiserating with one another on how smart their kids were. The meeting was poorly organized without much content. I refrained from leaving early with the excuse: “I’m late for my ‘I have too much money in my wallet’ support group.”
We decided we didn’t need the class again. “I think maybe it’s a support group for normal people who have gifted children? It was kinda slow,” I said. “And besides, I get free childcare at the Y.”
Eric nodded. “We of all people know how to parent a nerd,” he said.
“Yup,” I agreed.
Then we drilled Stephen on times tables, made him practice piano, and created a worksheet for him to learn the correct uses of “their” “they’re” and “there.” Because that’s what nerd parents do.