Slice of Life Tuesday is hosted by Two Writing Teachers

Giftedness has an emotional as well as intellectual component. Intellectual complexity goes hand in hand with emotional depth. Just as gifted children’s thinking is more complex and has more depth than other children’s, so too are their emotions more complex and more intense. Feeling everything more deeply than others do can both be painful and frightening. Emotionally intense gifted people often feel abnormal. “There must be something wrong with me… maybe I’m crazy… nobody else seems to feel like this.” Emotionally intense gifted people often experience intense inner conflict, self-criticism, anxiety and feelings of inferiority.
















If I’m doing my job as a teacher properly, I must be an expert behavior analyst. This is especially important when I have sensitive children in my classroom. I must notice the moment Joshua stops working or David holds his ears. In response, I make eye contact with Joshua, raising my eyebrows as punctuation, and point to his paper. His body jumps in recognition as he picks up his pencil. Next, I might blink the lights to get everyone to quiet down. Notice I don’t holler at the top of my lungs, “Are you kidding me?!” which is what I used to, well sometimes still do, at home with my own children. I’ve learned that my emotionally intense (EI) students have much to teach me about parenting. It can be exhausting being one step ahead of everyone, but it’s much easier than managing unpredictable behavior.


Now when my eleven year old son blames me because his piano practicing is difficult, my first thought is, “What do EI kids need?” It’s sort of my version of “What Would Jesus Do?” In fact, I might make parenting  bracelets with WDEIKN. Instead of getting mad at his misplaced anger, I tell him to focus on one line of music for today. He considers this, then nods and continues practicing.

In the classroom on Monday mornings I nurse my coffee as kids file in. “Hey, the schedule is wrong, we aren’t doing poetry today,” Joshua tells me. He is the kid who makes sure I’m on top of the classroom events. He loves that I’m rarely on top of the movement of schedule cards. I make sure to say,  “Can you change the Friday cards to the Monday ones? I forgot to.” I remember to be literal and kind.

At home, I stick to the plan. I remind my own children no less than four times that they are buying lunch instead of bringing it. I also make sure they know about changes in plans. “Don’t forget I have a late meeting Wednesday. So Dad is picking you up.” My kids are calmer knowing what to expect.

One day last year we were making classroom family portraits. Family makeup is vastly different from what it used to be and I know this can be a sore spot for some, but worth the investigation. I continue attempting to stay one step ahead of my students psychologically. Neurologist Oliver Sacks wrote that it was the tiny ways people moved and behaved that showed him who they were. I try to look for those tiny details before they get bigger, but sometimes I’m late in spotting them.

Cut to: Timothy lying in fetal position crying under his table. It’s tough being young and learning how our culture works. It’s much tougher for kids who are neurologically different. I sit next to him and whisper “Are you worried about how to put your dad in your portrait so your mom won’t be angry? I would be sad too. Maybe we could divide the paper in half.” He slowly gets to his feet willing to give it a try. I can’t do this if I don’t know each child well, so I must build good relationships early and regularly.

When my own children fall apart, I curse myself for not seeing it earlier. At home I try to employ an old Twelve Step mantra: HALT. How can I make sure my kids aren’t Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired so they don’t melt down. Just like at school, I don’t always catch this in time, but when I do it’s miraculous. When my eight year old daughter is crying over something that is not worthy of tears, I hand her a cheese stick because I realize she hasn’t eaten for a while and the crying stops. Like. Literally. Stops.

This parenting strategy isn’t simple to be sure––I am a yeller by nature. But when I use these gentle, clear strategies with my own children, I feel so much better about myself and the message they are getting.

Steve Silberman, author of the book NeuroTribes, says that neurological differences are “another way of being human.” Being human is different for everyone. My students are different from each other, so I try to help them function well together through a common set of posted rules. This helps them see that rules aren’t arbitrary. At home I have this arbitrary tendency, “No iPad for the week!” My children look stunned at this declaration and since I’ll never follow through on this, there is no consistency or value to the threat. Life at home can be unpredictable and there are some who will argue that it should be more relaxed at home, but it is possible to be more structured and predictable without being controlling or boring. Kids thrive under these conditions.