Banjo Rigsby’s Unsolicited Advice for Parents of Gifted Children
Your child is intelligent. Congratulations! Now get over yourself.
Intelligence does not need emphasis. Very intelligent, super intelligent, genius. Brilliant. Luminous. Gifted! All such terms when applied to your child say more about you and your own insecurities than they say about your child's abilities. Obviously, you are intelligent, because it is rare that an unintelligent adult produces an intelligent child. Accept it. Appreciate it. Be satisfied with having an intelligent child and with being intelligent yourself. But do not refer to your child--in public, in private, or within the confines of your mind--as Gifted.
BUD NIPPING: I know, I know. The term Gifted has been applied to your child by outside forces: a teacher, the school system, a private tutor, the Nobel Committee. But you are not required to accept this terminology. Says you, "But I do not use the term Gifted!" Ah, ha! Banjo has snared you in his logical trap: you read the link to this page. You thought, "Parent of a Gifted Child? That's me!" You clicked. Gotcha! So do not blame others for your acceptance and usage of the term Gifted. (Do not squirm. Squirming just ensnares you more tightly.)
Obviously, your child is intelligent. Now let him/her go be a child. Do not describe him/her to his/her face as Gifted. It's almost as bad as calling him/her Retarded. Both terms, as noted previously, are institutionally-invented descriptors that have little meaning in everyday life. If Banjo calls his dog Gifted, you might rightfully assume it was a gift from a friend looking for a good home for a loveable pet. It is simply bizarre to apply the word to a person in order to convey intelligence, especially when there already exists a perfectly good word for doing so: Intelligent. So that's another reason not to use the word Gifted to describe your child--it sounds Retarded.
Banjo is reminded of a renowned technology company where he toiled for a sufficient period of time. On the company's walls and within the literature the company distributed to its employees were assurances that the company's employees were The Best and The Brightest. (Never specified was: Of What? That is another matter that perhaps Banjo will expound upon, unsolicited, another time.) Banjo was in that number, so he was pleased to learn that, by the simple fact of his employment, he was among The Best and The Brightest. He added it to his resume, under Other Accomplishments.
One would think being one of The Best and The Brightest was sufficient external validation of the intelligence of each employee. (It was sufficient for Banjo.) Nevertheless, The Best and The Brightest often engaged in discussions designed to determine, "Among The Best and The Brightest, am I one of the Dimmest and Dullest, or one the Most Best and Brighterest Brightest, or...shudder...simply Average Best and Median Brightest?" Such discussions derailed many a meeting about important business matters. Within six months after the company began telling its employees they were The Best and The Brightest, productivity declined, revenue fell, the stock price crashed, the company declared bankruptcy, and tens of thousands of The Best and The Brightest joined the ranks of the The Least Employed and held a mock public hanging in effigy of the company's CEO.
That last sentence is not true. But it might as well have been. Because the important factor here is how well it supports Banjo's main point. Which is that describing your child as excessively special will lead to Bad Things. Have the grace never to describe your intelligent child as Gifted. One day your child will thank you for heeding Banjo's advice. And that will be the best and brightest gift of all.