Being “gifted” — and by that I mean smart — has been woven into my sense of self for so long that it has become one of the surest things I know about myself. I was reading at age 4. And though I hated math by kindergarten, I excelled in art, reading, and writing, and every teacher loved me. It was not surprising to me when, in third grade back in 1991, I was invited to take a test to determine whether I should move to a school across town — the school for really smart kids, as I precociously told relatives, neighbors and strangers at the grocery store. Nor was it surprising when my parents told me I had been accepted to that school’s Gifted and Talented program. There, in grades four, five, and six, I had the kind of public-school education that many parents dream of, filled with discovery, creativity, and nerdy magic.
We went tidepooling on the coast, prodding shy sea stars with our fingers, and made papier-mâché dioramas of the titular fruit from James and the Giant Peach. We reenacted the Battle of Lexington and Concord using balled-up paper as bullets and argued about national politics. (Memorably, one debate about George H.W. Bush’s 1988 pledge “Read my lips: no new taxes” ended in shouting.) We went on class camping trips designed to teach the value of emotional risk-taking, pushing ourselves on night hikes to walk solo through a pitch-black tunnel to our teacher on the other side. Our classrooms were always a merry mess of paint and construction paper. I spent most of my in-school silent reading hours with the class copy of The New Yorker. My teachers, thrillingly, asked a lot of me academically, and in return, they gave me the latitude to follow my curiosity. I remember these years as some of the most invigorating of my life.
For nearly a century all across America, shrewd parents have known that the best first step in a child’s academic life is to get them into a gifted program, like the one I attended, where they can have an academic experience that is stimulating and confidence-boosting, that sets them apart from the pack. They understand that a Gifted and Talented, or G&T, program in elementary school broadens a child’s intellectual horizons, which then places them on a course toward honors classes in middle school and AP classes in high school. All of this culminates, finally, in the strategic launch of the child toward “a very good college,” maybe even one in the Ivy League. The first plotted point on the ascent is vital — it’s what makes the rest possible.
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