Lisa is the mother of 3 gifted children and lives outside of San Francisco.

My middle son is a junior in high school. It’s time for him to start thinking about college. To help the process along, his school invited a speaker from to speak to the parents and students. She reminded the parents that the search should be student-centered. To make her point she told stories about over-involved parents who push their children aside during college fairs in order to speak to the admissions officers and those who get their pronouns confused when talking about the application process, as in, “We are still in the process of writing our ±đ˛ő˛ő˛ą˛â˛ő.”

I have never pushed my children, and I am very conscious of which pronoun I use. That said, I was very involved in my oldest son’s college search, and I plan to do the same for my middle son. My experience has given me sympathy for the parents she ridiculed. It’s a fine line between over-involved helicopter parent and helpful consultant. But whichever side of the line you fall, there will be consequences for your child and a corresponding label of their own.

My involvement in my children’s educational decisions is not unlike that of many parents of gifted kids. For the past 10 years, I’ve been helping my children get the resources they need to challenge themselves and feed their passions. In the past, that meant online courses, tutors, extracurricular activities and schools. Two years ago, it meant helping my oldest son find a college. It wasn’t until he began his college search that I understood how my involvement has influenced the way he thinks about his own education.

“I want a school with a good visual arts program, but I don’t want it to focus solely on the object.”

He wanted to paint, draw or sculpt at a school that didn’t focus on the painting, drawing or sculpture. If you are confused, so was I. Even he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. But that didn’t prevent me from searching for this elusive school. I (yes, I am aware of the pronoun I am using) looked through course catalogues for visual art classes with unique titles, eschewing schools that only offered the vanilla “Painting 101” or “Drawing Techniques.” I looked at their capital expenditures on the arts and made charts detailing their core requirements. We visited colleges on the East Coast and in Southern California where I asked more questions than my son during the campus tours. The accordion files I created for potential colleges bulged.

My search led him to the University of Chicago. He was intrigued by the classes titled “Visual Language: On Time and Space” and “Performing Tableware.” He enrolled last year. When my husband and I delivered him to the campus, we knew that the school would provide a rich academic experience for him. But he wasn’t done personalizing his education.

At the beginning of his second year, he decided that the majors available at University of Chicago were limiting. So instead of settling for a major that mostly provided what he wanted, he decided to invent his own. He is going to declare a major in Interdisciplinary Studies. This do-it-yourself major allows him to combine studies in the humanities. He is going to craft a major in the fields of anthropology, visual arts, creative writing and psychology. The tentative title of his major is “Storytelling.”

Just as there are contrasting labels that can be applied to me, you may be tempted to apply one to my son. On the positive side, you could say that he is self-actualizing. On the negative: he feels entitled. While I will argue the former, I will admit that the latter also applies. My interference in his educational experiences led him to believe that he can expect a personalized education plan that feeds his passions, wherever that may take him. This may mean that he will enter a work force that does not value his efforts and that he will spend his twenties living in our basement. On the other hand, he may have developed skills that allow him to pursue a career his father and I have never imagined. After all, there are people making a living creating Google Doodles. Who knew that was a career 10 years ago?

I believe that my intentions are good and that my behavior furthers my children’s goals. My middle son is going to test that belief. An extraordinary math talent, he doesn’t want to pursue math in college. He wants the educational equivalent of Sid Meyer’s Civilization game series—a program that combines politics, economics, history and philosophy. I am going to do my best not to slip in a math component, but I can’t guarantee my behavior at this point.

I know that I am both over-involved and helpful. I am certain that my children are seen as both entitled and on the path to self-actualization. Which label you apply to my children and to me depends on your perspective. I suppose the only judgment that really matters is my children’s. If later in life they are leading happy and fulfilling lives, then you can call us whatever you’d like.

Have you struggled with the fine line between helpful and over-involved? Please share your experience in the comment section below.

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Kate Duey is a private college counselor serving gifted students. She has worked with students on traditional schooling paths, home schooled students, community college students, and students seeking accelerated or early college entrance. Kate is a graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Business School. She has a Certificate in College Counseling from UCLA.

What happens if a student graduates from high school exhausted? AP classes, standardized testing, extracurricular activities, sports, music, community service, research projects…and all of those college essays! What if they worked so hard they can’t remember what they like? Are they ready for four or five or six more years?

Among gifted high school students, it is especially important to remember that giftedness is innate to a person, and we should embrace the whole student by supporting their intellectual, social, spiritual, emotional and physical growth. When a gifted student’s high school years disproportionately emphasize intellectual development, the whole person is neglected. Refreshing all parts of a gifted student’s self helps to focus his or her intensities in ways that work with and for the student.

For graduating high school students who find themselves exhausted, an intentional pause to decompress and plan their next steps – a “gap year” between high school and college –could be a viable option. They often enter college with better perspective, more maturity, chronological alignment with his or her class, and enthusiasm for an old or new interest elevates the student’s whole experience.

Taking a gap year does not mean the student does not apply to college as a high school senior; they absolutely should. As a high school student, he or she has access to the teachers and counselors who will write letters of recommendation, grades and test scores are in hand, and good reference materials to search for college are easier to access. Definitely apply! Then, defer.

As a college counselor working with gifted high school students, I’ve twice seriously advised a gap year. One student considered extreme mountaineering, the other living in Europe with extended family. (Admittedly, neither did it.) I’ve talked about it with every student who has an interest in studying foreign languages. Among our tabloid friends, Prince William and Kate Middleton took gap years. Kate spent much of hers studying Italian. Every year, fifty to seventy students defer entrance into Harvard College for a gap year. In 2006, Harvard reported some of the focuses of those gap years:

• Backpacking
• Caring for grandparents
• Writing the Next Great American Novel
• e-commerce startup
• Figure skating
• Kibbutz life
• Language study
• Military service
• Mineralogy
• Ěý˛ŃłÜ˛őľ±ł¦
• Political campaigns
• Reading
• Special needs education
• Sports
• Steel drumming
• Storytelling
• Swing dancing
• Working to save money for college

Parents often worry that, by detaching from a year-to-year academic progression, their child will fall behind. Colleges seldom see it that way, and many letters of admission come with the option of deferring for a year. Once in college, students are often encouraged to take a year off, and college student counseling centers freely offer advice about opportunities. Splitting the difference, some colleges offer mid-year entrance, allowing the student a “gap semester.” American University and Brandeis University have formal off-campus programs for first-year fall semester.

A year off can center around any endeavor. Now that average student indebtedness at graduation is $25,200, saving for a year before college can create more flexibility after college. Another opportunity is more family time, especially with grandparents, which may have been sacrificed for academic achievement.

Some parents and students prefer a structured year. There are many services which will match a student with a gap year program, and a quick internet search will yield many. Also, think outside of the box; my personal favorite was a year at Austin Community College studying blacksmithing.

A gap year can make for a more interesting student, capable of adding more to the academic community. Best of all, students can discover their passions and capture their zeitgeist before they begin college.

Has your child considered taking a gap year? Please share your experience in the comment section below.

Kate will be discussing college admissions at our next . The talk will take place at 6:30 pm on February 13, 2013, at the ÓĹĂŰĘÓƵ Learning Center, located at 625 Fair Oaks Avenue, Suite 288, South Pasadena, CA 91030 (across the hall from the ÓĹĂŰĘÓƵ main office). Please RSVP to reception@educationaladvancement.org. We hope to see you there!

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