GAW Blog

I wasn’t always a Gifted Education advocate. In fact, when I was studying my dual undergraduate education and music degrees in NSW in the early 2000’s, subjects surrounding this field weren’t available at my university. Whilst I was repeatedly taught the importance of nurturing the academic and socioemotional wellbeing of students with a disability or learning disorder, gifted learners were never discussed. Upon entering the teaching profession, my understanding of giftedness was, mistakenly, founded purely on the stereotypes that society had presented me throughout my young life. That all changed in my second year of teaching, however, when I was fortunate to teach Anna (name changed), a seemingly happy and well-adjusted 11-year-old girl. Anna’s IQ exceeded 153, she was a virtuosic musician on two orchestral instruments, had previously been year level accelerated, had a great group of friends and a loving family, and also, told me she self-harming. Anna was the first time a gifted student had broken the ‘life is easy for gifted students’ adage that I had, until that moment, held dear, and I nor any of her other teachers at the time, ever saw it coming. Anna epitomised the stereotypical gifted profile that many educators continue to resonate with. She was incredibly high achieving, excelling far above year level despite her acceleration, attentive, well-mannered, softly spoken, meticulous and responsible. In the days, weeks and months which followed, we, her teachers, pondered how Anna’s wellbeing had been overlooked to the point whereby she sought release through self-harm? How had we been so blind to the pain she was experiencing? What could we have done, or could do in the future, to support Anna’s wellbeing further? Accordingly, Anna unknowingly set me on a path of deep personal and professional reflection, resulting in the creation of a relentless motivation to advocate for the needs and wellbeing of gifted learners within the school environment. Fast forward 13 years and I have since completed my Masters in Gifted Education and have worked almost exclusively in this field for the past 6 years. Thanks to Anna I am uncompromisingly driven to help teachers and schools provide for, and nurture, gifted students’ wellbeing. Like anything in education, it is not an easy job. Through my eyes it appears that some schools prefer their G&T Coordinator to be seen and not heard (aside from after events such as the Da Vinci Decathlon, GERRIC programs, Math Olympiad, and ICAS testing.) I continue to have teachers tell me that they don’t understand why student X is feeling frustrated in class, as they are providing extra worksheets at year level for the student to do. Additionally, I also hear ‘student Y can’t be gifted, he’s only getting a C in (insert subject name here)’, thus exemplifying the role gifted stereotypes continue to play within today’s education system. Other schools, thankfully, are further along on their gifted education journey. These schools are more receptive to the needs of gifted students by way of their gifted education programming, differentiation programmes and views toward acceleration practices. Also, and perhaps even more importantly, their willingness to educate teaching staff as to the needs of this heterogeneous population. One such school instigated a monthly Gifted Girls morning tea, whereby the gifted high school students had a regular unstructured social get together, thus greatly improving the students’ sense of belonging. One parent described these meetings as the single biggest highlight in her daughter’s 10 years of schooling. Another school recently began including aspects of gifted education into their regular staff meeting schedules across Prep-Year 12, as a way of not only upskilling staff, but also having gifted students viewed as priority learners within the school. What about Anna, you ask? I, together with her team of teachers, worked diligently to modify our teaching practices, curriculum planning and pastoral programs to better cater for her and other gifted students’ academic and socioemotional needs. She also received extensive external support. Unfortunately, thing got worse before they got better, but with the right support, Anna has since grown to become a happy, healthy, highly educated and successful young lady. Little does she realise, but she also changed my life. by: Kellie Clarke

From July to December 2004, I lived in Australia, specifically in the beautiful seaside town of Coogee. I lived in a house of 35 college students from all over the world. As you can probably imagine, there was a lot of wonderful chaos. Between the beach, the bars, the travel, the accents (!), the wildlife, and the general exoticness of being Down Under, there was a lot of competition for our time when it came down to choosing whether to go to class (which was, of course, what we ostensibly there to do). Now I would be lying to you if I said that I didn’t miss classes for the occasional day of surfing in Bondi or lunchtime pints of VB at the Coogee Bay Hotel. I certainly traded some evenings of study for games of footie or wandering around Circular Quay. Many of my fellow travelers and students did the same. Oddly, it was because of those similarities that I felt so disconnected from them. And my disconnectedness couldn’t be explained away by something as simple as “oh I actually came here to learn” (which, sure) or “I actually like my classes” (I really did! Especially my Stand-Up Comedy class). My disconnect grew from the fact that I wanted different things from my time in Australia, and it was hard to articulate those differences. I wanted to explore the “soul” of the city where I found myself, and I knew that I wouldn’t find it in the various bars and clubs of downtown Sydney (though Pancakes on the Rocks came close). Of course, one wants to see the major tourist attractions, and I checked off those boxes: I’ve climbed the Harbour Bridge, seen a show at the Opera House, and held a koala at the Taronga Zoo. But I wanted to get deep into the neighbourhoods, parks, museums, and institutions that revealed something more ephemeral, more authentic… more me . The best way that I can explain this phenomenon is noting that I grew up outside of New York City here in the US and spent a lot of time wandering around the Five Boroughs in my youth. When friends or family came to visit, they wanted to go into Manhattan and inevitably wanted to see the “postcard spots:” 30 Rockefeller Place, The Empire State Building, Central Park, etc. And there is tremendous value and beauty to those places! But when I truly love a place, when I want to become a citizen of its community, I want to get deeper than going to Bubba Gump Shrimp in Times Square. I want to know the best Korean sandwiches in the Bronx; I want to find a hole-in-the-wall pub with original signage in Bed-Stuy; I want to tour an obscure museum that’s only open on Tuesdays in Queens. I wanted that experience in Sydney, so I set off to find it. I wandered around the Western suburbs with a transit map and a bottled water. I got horrifically lost in Parramatta. I went to the Sydney Observatory, Victoria Barracks, and the Powerhouse Museum. I got stung by a jellyfish at Manly Beach. I tried to list all the things named after Lachlan Macquarie. I did most of these things alone, not because I wanted to be (mostly), but because I was sure that no one would understand what I was trying to do. How do you articulate that you’re seeking the soul of a place without sounding super strange? How do you know who would listen… and get it? I think that this is why being gifted can be so lonely without a community. These questions are strange and abstract, but still powerfully meaningful to the right person. And just because I was seeking these experiences doesn’t make me better or worse than anyone else; just as I wanted to see the ANZAC memorial, some people wanted to find all the best shopping in Sydney. To each their own. It’s just that some activities are much easier to bring company to and be accessible. You’re much more likely to find someone who wants to listen to Garth Brooks than your favourite indy K-Pop piano-cello duo. But that example leads me to my point: You can still enjoy what you love while seeking that community. There is no reason to wait to be happy. Our brains often default to a space of “I’ll do X once I have accomplished Y.” Sometimes that helps us (one should learn to drive a car because deciding to road trip to Spring Break), but sometimes it unnecessarily holds us back. If I had waited to find my people to go visit my obscure museums and parks, I might not have ever seen them. If doing something that you want to do would be 100% perfect if you did it with friends, but only 84% as good if you did it alone, then your brain might tell you to wait until things are perfect to try something new. Good can certainly be the enemy of great, but great can also be the enemy of done. Last time I checked, 84% good is still a lot more than 0% good, which is what you’d get if you never tried. I don’t regret my solo touring of greater Sydney. I wish that I had been more confident in who I was, and thus more willing to be open about my neurodivergent interests, but I cannot change the past. Instead, I can blog about it so you can hopefully learn from my experiences. Do what makes you happy, regardless of whether people are coming along for the ride. Keep your eyes open for when you reach your various destinations, because your spiritual travellers may be there as well: looking, listening, whispering fun facts about the venue to themselves. Those are your people, and I guarantee that they’ll be as excited to meet you as you are to meet them. We are not meant to travel this world alone, but when your people are harder to find, we must practice two vital skills: patience and self-confidence. We must be patient and knock on many doors to find our people. That might be difficult, and you’re basically guaranteed to have some rough and lonely days, but the wait is totally worth it. The key here is to set your expectations using the concept I mentioned above. Things might be better with company, especially if it is meaningful company, but that doesn’t mean that following your passions alone as no value at all. In fact, the process of doing things solo may increase your engagement because you learn to rely on yourself. Plus it gives you something to do while you’re waiting! To survive that process, you need to turn up the volume on your own self-confidence. That’s a truly proposition, of course, because how do you get self-confidence if you don’t have any self-confidence? (I often say it’s like needing your glasses to find your glasses). Self-confidence comes from two plans: values and identity. If your values are to make the world a better place, then you’ve already got the emotional infrastructure to engage authentically in the world around you. Your values can direct you to find jobs, take classes, volunteer, make friends, or take up self-improvement. My values are travel, self-exploration, and challenging myself; all three are readily apparent in my Australia adventures. Identity is knowing who you are. It is related to values but moves into more autobiographical territory. If you’re a neurodivergent person, then own it. If you’re a member of the LGBTQ+ community, then integrate that into your identity. Knowing who you are allows you to have more self-confidence, because it taps into the most authentic version of you. And if people don’t get it? Then they’re not your people. They’re out there; keep looking. The energy you spend on masking yourself is not energy you get back. The way to take the lessons of this blog post (other than to move to Coogee if you haven’t lived in Australia) is to be brave and authentic in seeking the things, places, and activities that bring you joy. They may not be for everyone, but that’s OK because you’re not everyone. Your people are out there and they’re certainly looking to connect. As a coda to my story of independent travel, I ended up meeting some wonderful other study abroad folks who were studying at the University of Wollongong. After a night out in Sydney, I took the train back to their Uni with them so I could explore “the Gong” properly. After a late breakfast, my new friends looked to me and asked what I wanted to do that day. I hesitated, because I wanted to go see the famous Old Wollongong Lighthouse (I’m from the Jersey Shore; I love lighthouses. Yes, I’m weird.) but I didn’t think that they would understand. With some prompting, they dragged it out of me. There was a moment of silence where I doubted revealing my true nerdiness so early. Then something amazing happened; they all laughed and said that they had all been meaning to go see it but were waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up. My being there give us all the opportunity to do something that we all wanted. My friends not only lifted me up, but I ended up lifting them as well. And that’s how it feels when you find your people. Matthew J. Zakreski, PsyD NB: Please note that this article only represents the views of the author(s), and is not necessarily representative of the views of the Australian Association for the Education of the Gifted and Talented.

Giftedness is not what I thought it was. I want to preface this by saying that I know parenting is hard for all of us. And I know there are many big problems in the world today. But I think there are some unique challenges and joys of being gifted that might not be widely known. Why do I think this? Because there was a time when I didn't know gifted so well. A time when I didn't have three gifted kids in my life. There was a time when I'd only vaguely heard of Mensa. A time when gifted children to me were quiet and studious. They had perfect behaviour at school and got straight As. Life was probably super easy for them. They invented things and read big books and spoke well, and probably grew into scientists. But now that I live gifted, I know the truth. I imagine most families with young kids can relate to many parts of life with my lot. Our life is messy and crazy, and loud. It's kids running around the lounge room and jumping on the couch. It's giggles and laughter and constant talking and not listening to mum and dad. It's stubbornness and cheekiness and arguing and never-ending questions. It is siblings who play for hours in amazing worlds that exist only in their imaginations. It's three kids running around the museum with the same enthusiasm as a theme park. It's the fascination with a ladybug on a leaf. It's a great sense of humour, and it's so much clowning around. But gifted is also a house full of big emotions. It is needing fairness and justice like it's oxygen. It's 5-year-olds sobbing about climate change. Because they understand everything they see and hear about it at the level of a much older person, but they only have the emotional skills of a 5-year-old to deal with this. It's 6-year-olds stressing in silence for weeks that overfishing and warming seas mean their grandchildren won't get to see fish in the ocean. It's pre-schoolers having nightmares about being sucked into black holes or an extinction-level asteroid hitting the earth. Pre-schoolers who are genuinely terrified of these things because they can't fathom the unlikeliness of that ever happening to them. As a psychologist once explained, gifted is a 6-year-old wondering whether death is permanent, while everyone else is wondering what's in their lunchbox that day. And just because parenting these little people is not stressful enough, research shows that if the needs of gifted children are not met, they're more likely to experience anxiety, social problems, and depression (National Association for Gifted and Talented (NAGC)). Gifted is also not really being understood a lot of the time. Core to the definition of the word gifted is 'asynchrony'. This is where some of your skills are advanced while some are lagging. So you might be able to think up amazing stories in your mind but be completely unable to write them down. You might be 3 years ahead in maths but 1 year behind in English. You might be a young child who can do algebra but not tie your shoelaces. Sometimes gifted means not caring one scrap about what you're learning in school. Sometimes it's the stress of knowing you're smart but getting poor grades. Gifted is being made to learn things in your first year of school that you knew when you were two – and being totally confused and frustrated about why. Often it's a seemingly endless repetition of work you already know, that as one of my kids at seven put it, 'makes me want to shut my ears and scream'. Research shows gifted learners not only learn faster but are more likely to unlearn maths, science and foreign languages when made to revise the content more than 2-3 times after mastery (as is done in a normal classroom) (NAGC). All of these things can lead to disengagement from school and kids losing their love of learning. Research also shows that between 18% and 25% of gifted students drop out of school early (NAGC). And when parents go to teachers for help, often the understanding is just not there. As a parent, gifted is not wanting to utter the 'G' word for fear of what people will think. It's fear that teachers think we're 'those' pushy parents who have had the flashcards on rotation since our kids were babies. It's fear of not saying too much about our kids in front of other parents because they might think we're boasting. And when someone notices your baby knows all their colours, it's avoiding the questions about how you got them to do that because you yourself have literally no idea. It's constant wondering whether our kids are getting enough mental stimulation versus enough time to just be kids. It's wondering which of the kids have a second exceptionality, which often goes hand-in-hand with high IQs. This means being gifted plus having another diagnosis that affects learning, such as ADHD, ASD, anxiety, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dysgraphia… the list of terms I had literally not heard of until recently, goes on. It's wondering which of your kids needs a psychologist right now, or an OT, and knowing it'll be at least a 6 month wait to see anyone anyway. Gifted is constant worrying and wondering with limited support. But gifted is also pride. It's being amazed by your own kids on a constant basis. Saying to your partner… ummm I'm pretty sure talking at 8 months isn't normal!? Should she be able to do her older brother's homework while she's still in Kindy? It's your 2-year-old making words with one of the 5 billion alphabet sets you've had to buy from Kmart because it's one of the only things that will keep them occupied right now. It's not knowing enough about the space-time continuum when Santa discussions come up… And, well, not knowing enough about anything really. It's saying 'Hey Siri'. A lot. And then asking weird questions like, 'if there was no air resistance, would raindrops kill us?'. It's your kids having cool favourite animals like tardigrades, and it's learning what tardigrades even are (they can survive in SPACE mummy!). It's knowing way more than you ever thought you would know about the Oort cloud or Rube Goldberg machines or the physics of how geckos climb walls. Having gifted kids teaches you to see the world in new and amazing ways. It allows you to see the beauty and excitement in even the smallest of things. And it is so much joy. I guess what I want to say here is that being gifted isn't a free ticket to an easy life. Gifted people aren't made by flashcards, or Mozart or second languages or any other kind of early education. These people are found across all races, cultures, and socioeconomic groups, globally. Essentially, giftedness is a neurodiversity with a social-emotional and learning difference. It is highly genetic, meaning that while early experiences are influential, gifted people are essentially just born the way they are. They didn't ask to be born this way. And they aren't always the stereotypes that many believe. Gifted. It seems to me this word has different meanings for different people. I feel so lucky to be sharing life with these amazing little people. To me, gifted means excitement about the world, deep thinking, worry, love and endless laughter. Though sometimes, gifted can just be really hard. Author name removed at author's request NB: Please note that this article only represents the views of the author(s), and is not necessarily representative of the views of the Australian Association for the Education of the Gifted and Talented.

Raising awareness about gifted students and their needs prompts an examination of some of the myths associated with giftedness.

It can be tough to identify children who are gifted – and sometimes almost impossible if they also come from a disadvantaged background.

With the rise of ChatGPT and AI, these students may be at heightened risk of false or exaggerated accusations of “cheating” based on imperfect and nascent AI detection software. Parents and teachers should provide all students with a clear understanding of their state, system and school policies around ChatGPT, AI, detection software and (urgently!) the appropriate and ethical use of these tools, in context. Most of all, we must truly empower our young people to develop their own voices- as messy, creative and unique as they may be.

The gifted need a 'meeting of minds' to find social acceptability for who they really are and increase the chance of finding true friends

My name is Chloe and I’m nine and three quarters. I would say I’m fairly normal (for someone who is much more different). It’s just that some people would think I’m weird, crazy or pushed too hard. You see, I’m one of the people classified as ‘gifted’. When I was little (approx. ten months old), my mum took me to a mothers’ group outing. There were not many toys available to play with, so I started ‘reading’ through book after book after book. I was quite happy in preschool and kindergarten, even though the work was too easy for me, because no one really noticed that I was different. Although once, I wrote in pen and the teacher was very angry even it was quite neat because she wanted us to write in pencil only. Then when I was in year one I started diverting away from the other kids in the school. Even though I tried to connect with the other kids, I just was too different or I was the opposite gender or too young. I often used to feel terribly bored and immensely lonely at school. I would come home every day feeling very depressed. The work was much too easy and I got every question correct but my yearly and half-yearly reports weren’t great. I don’t know why, but I felt the teachers hated me. One time, my previous school trialed coding class, and let me tell you one thing: it was way too easy (I already had my own website I coded myself). I tried to communicate with the teachers via my mum (I was too scared), but they just thought mum was pushing me too hard when in reality I was the one getting my mother to talk to them. I played pretend at school because I had no real friends. The girls were all about dance and looking pretty, but I don’t like just gossiping about my hair or how good my jazz moves are. Also, most of the boys liked sport or found it too awkward to play with me because I was a girl. This year I made it in the gifted class at a more welcoming school. I’m happy now at my current school, but I feel there are other less lucky gifted children out there; ones who cannot reach their full potential because there are no special classes or schools where they live, or any at all. There are also ones who cannot get an education because of the mere fact that they are girls, or kids who stay in hospital or with non-tangible disabilities like dyslexia or Irlen syndrome. I want those children to be and make themselves heard, and we should try and make a change in the world, starting with our communities. I would like people to recognise and respect gifted children — and, on that case — any other children who are ‘different’: transgender, with a disability etc. 

There is a plethora of empirical evidence about academic acceleration as best practice to cater to the needs of the gifted students (Assouline et al., 2015; Colangelo et al., 2010; Colangelo & Wood, 2015; Gagné, 2015, 2020; Gallagher et al., 2011; Gross, 2006) . Yet our educators hold back in implementing best practice. Those of you who have gone down this road would relate to the following statements by educators in response to whole year academic acceleration: “He is a happy child. I don’t want to stress him.” “I don’t want to separate her from her friends.” “I am concerned about his social emotional health.” “How will she cope socially?” “We are extending her in the current year level. There is no need for whole year acceleration. It will only complicate things.” While advocating for your child there comes a time when you start doubting yourself. You doubt that if you are doing right by your child by accelerating him a whole year that is making him skip a year at school. To ensure your child’s best interest, you must make an informed decision. The first step is to recognise the need for academic challenge in the classroom. Look for the signs. Is your child complaining of being bored at school? Is he causing trouble? Is he disengaged? If you answered yes to any of these questions then your child needs acceleration in terms of curriculum compacting, ability grouping or whole year acceleration. Now evaluate your child’s current academic prowess. Check previously conducted tests. The best assessment could be done through off level testing. Off level tests as the name suggests, assess the student’s abilities in mathematics and reading at levels higher than his current year-level. Their results indicate the level of curriculum they are currently at. If the off level or adaptive tests show a whole year advancement in reading and mathematics, then your child probably needs whole year acceleration. Now get the writing assessed. If a student is an academic year ahead in reading, writing and mathematics then he needs a whole year academic acceleration. Acquire evidence of this whole year academic advancement. This can be done through documenting test results, individual education plans (IEP) or school reports. Before you reach out to the teacher or the leadership of the school for whole year acceleration, strengthen your defences. Do some research around its efficacy for your child. Familiarise yourself with the policies for gifted students on state and national education websites. Collect references that support whole year acceleration. To strengthen your arguments, find acceleration related information on state, national and international gifted and talented organisations websites. This information will help you understand the process better and also clear your personal doubts around social emotional development. Lastly, read some literature in support of academic acceleration. You will only find research literature that supports acceleration as to date no research has proven it otherwise. You are now equipped to advocate for whole year academic acceleration for your child. Reach out to the classroom teacher. Ask her what she can do to cater to your child’s growing academic needs in the classroom. If she doesn’t mention whole year acceleration, then bring her attention to the assessment results that are evidence of your child’s 12-month academic advancement. If she is still not convinced, then communicate with the year level coordinator. Follow the right line of hierarchy till you are heard. Ask for a meeting with the principal and the classroom teacher. Take all the evidence that you have collected, both related to your child’s whole year academic advancement and that in support of acceleration on websites and in research. Advocate for your child. If it still doesn’t work, then it’s time to look for a school that has a gifted and talented program. Look for educators who have accelerated their own gifted children. They will empathise with you. They will know where you are coming from. They will support you and facilitate your child in the most conducive way possible. References Assouline, S. G., Assouline, S. G., Colangelo, N., Gross, M. U. M., Templeton Foundation, Connie Belin & Jacqueline N. Blank International Center for Gifted Education and Talent Development, & National Association for Gifted Children (U.S.). (2015). A Nation Empowered: Evidence Trumps the Excuses Holding Back America’s Brightest Students v.1 and v. 2 v.1 and v. 2. Connie Belin & Jacqueline N. Blank International Center for Gifted Education and Talent Development, University of Iowa. Colangelo, N., Assouline, S. G., Marron, M. A., Castellano, J. A., Clinkenbeard, P. R., Rogers, K., Calvert, E., Malek, R., & Smith, D. (2010). Guidelines for Developing an Academic Acceleration Policy. Journal of Advanced Academics, 21(2), 180–203. https://doi.org/10.1177/1932202X1002100202 Colangelo, N., & Wood, S. M. (2015). Counseling the Gifted: Past, Present, and Future Directions. Journal of Counseling & Development, 93(2), 133–142. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1556-6676.2015.00189.x Gagné, F. (2015). Academic talent development programs: A best practices model. Asia Pacific Education Review, 16(2), 281–295. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12564-015-9366-9 Gagné, F. (2020). Differentiating Giftedness from Talent: The DMGT Perspective on Talent Development (1st edition). Routledge. Gallagher, S., Smith, S. R., & Merrotsy, P. (2011). Teachers’ Perceptions of the Socioemotional Development of Intellectually Gifted Primary Aged Students and Their Attitudes Towards Ability Grouping and Acceleration. Gifted and Talented International, 26(1–2), 11–24. https://doi.org/10.1080/15332276.2011.11673585 Gross, M. U. M. (2006). Exceptionally Gifted Children: Long-Term Outcomes of Academic Acceleration and Nonacceleration. Journal for the Education of the Gifted, 29(4), 404–429. https://doi.org/10.4219/jeg-2006-247