Do you remember your elementary school report cards? They were more than just a column of letters with all of your hard work reduced down to a number 鈥� a number to be judged against that perfect 4.0. In those early years, you and your parents received feedback through grades and written commentary. Your parents also attended conferences with your teachers to help them truly understand how you were doing.

As you got older, though, chances are that feedback diminished. The really good teachers gave you open-ended assignments that were returned with constructive criticism along with your grade. However, there were a lot of teachers who just gave you a test; things were right or wrong, black or white, and the only thing you got back was a grade.

When I was looking at colleges, I found a handful didn鈥檛 give grades; they provided detailed feedback instead. I remember thinking, 鈥淗ow can a graduate school or employer judge an applicant on that?鈥� But I also knew that there was value in that detailed, constructive feedback, and I wanted it.

I ended up at a college where I received both grades on my transcript at the end of the semester and constructive feedback throughout the year on analytical, hands-on, thought-provoking, and practical coursework. That, I believed, was the best of both worlds. On my resume, I could include my GPA, that number that my entire college career was supposed to be reduced to, so my academic performance could be judged against that of others. Importantly, though, I could also note my volunteer work and practical assignments such as communications work for local nonprofits. Additionally, in other parts of the job-seeking process, I could communicate with confidence that I had been adequately (or better) prepared for a career in the field of my choice 鈥� not because of the little number that was very close to a 4.0 鈥� but because I had learned from extraordinary professors and received their feedback, support, and guidance the entire way.

Today, the field of education is so focused on raising standardized test scores that we are missing the point. There is so much more to education than a number telling us if we are right or wrong. How are we supposed to learn from a low score if we don鈥檛 know or understand what we got wrong? How does a multiple choice test allow me to develop critical thinking and problem solving skills? How is a test preparing us for life?

I see two major problems (among many others) with standardized test-driven education:

1. Helpful feedback beyond the test score is often not provided.
2. Tests don鈥檛 measure some of the most important things 鈥� a student鈥檚 ability to reason, depth of knowledge, thought processes, innovation, or passion, for example.

Tests are important evaluative tools, and they do serve a purpose. But education should not be reduced to simply filling in the bubbles on a multiple choice test. There is so much more to every student than a GPA or a percentile. We must find better ways to evaluate without stifling creativity, to give constructive feedback, and to make learning an engaging, productive process. We are asking a lot of teachers today, and hard as they try, they can鈥檛 do it all; they need help.

Even in the field of gifted education 鈥� where we appreciate and understand the gifted student鈥檚 ability and need to delve deeper, think more creatively, and express their knowledge differently 鈥� many programs identify gifted students based on a single test score. But a test score does not give us the full picture of a student, which is why 优蜜视频 uses for identification and program qualification.

All kids are more than a test score, and all students deserve to learn. Let鈥檚 make that happen.

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

It鈥檚 the only fun part of the college application process: the college trip. It鈥檚 the chance for your child to dream before the harsh realities of test scores, class rank and GPAs hit. Best of all, parents are active participants. We get to be accomplices to the dream worlds our children are imagining.

Three years ago, I eagerly anticipated bonding with my oldest son on our whirlwind tour of 6 colleges in the east and one in the Midwest. I memorialized the trip with pictures of him scraping the snow off the windshield of our rented car, waking up with bed head and sampling cannoli in Boston. He was not amused. The defining moment of our trip happened during dinner midway into the week.

鈥淚 haven鈥檛 seen anyone in so long,鈥� he said.

I not only wasn鈥檛 bonding with him, I wasn鈥檛 even someone.

I returned from the trip with a more realistic understanding of my place in his world. I could be the travel agent, chauffeur and advisor, but I did not have a place in his dreams. The trip was his opportunity to imagine a life without me. He had already gotten a head start imagining that world.

I tried to apply the lessons I learned from my oldest son to my middle son鈥檚 college trip. We would see one school a day (with the exception of a quick trip to New York City) and travel solely by public transportation. The pace and mode of transportation would reduce my stress and allow each of us to immerse ourselves in the experience of looking for a college 鈥� separately. For my son, that meant plugging himself into the sounds of Ingrid Michelson and Idina Menzel. For me, it was flipping the pages of The Gatekeepers: Inside the Admissions Process of a Premier College.

My son let me set the itinerary. We could only visit 6 or 7 schools, so I made the decision to tour schools of varying size located in suburban, urban and big city locations. This would allow me to gauge his interest in particular types of schools. One of the things they had in common is that they all had strong programs in his areas of interest: International Relations, Politics, Philosophy, Economics, Public Policy and Government. The other thing they had in common is that they are all spectacularly hard to get into. That last part wasn鈥檛 one of my criteria; it just turned out that way. Or, more accurately, I didn鈥檛 make an effort to balance safety, target and reach schools.

I was breaking the first rule of the college application process: manage your child鈥檚 expectations.

I wasn鈥檛 trying to communicate an unreasonably high level of expectations to my son, although it could certainly be seen that way. I was curious. Some group of researchers decided that these were the best schools in the country and lots of students appeared to agree with this conclusion. How else do you get such low acceptance rates? Besides, isn鈥檛 this an area where a gifted kid can dream big? After my husband and I had spent years finding outlets for his passions, was this really the time to tell our son that the admission odds are set against him and he should be more realistic? Without visiting these schools, they would just be names, spoken with reverence by his friends and their parents. He would not know if the fuss was justified until he experienced these mythical institutions, however superficially.

Luckily, the idea of attending an Ivy League college had already lost some of its luster by the time we left for the East Coast. My son had fallen in love two weeks earlier. The object of his affection is a liberal arts college in Southern California. The town, the campus, the classes and the flip flop wearing student body spoke to him. He now had the gold standard against which all other schools would be compared.

If my son felt pressured by my itinerary, he didn鈥檛 complain. In fact, he said that he would have been disappointed had I not taken him to these highly selective schools. He was not ready to inventory his shortcomings. He still wanted the chance to dream. So, bring it on Harvard. Let鈥檚 see if the tingly excitement brought on by an Ivy League name can compare to the warmth generated by the Southern California sun.

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

I feel responsible to a number: my son鈥檚 IQ score. I鈥檝e spent 9 years struggling with my relationship to it. I鈥檝e gone from feeling absolved of any responsibility to taking full responsibility for what the number means for his future. Eventually, I found a peaceful place in which the number and I can coexist. I just needed to see his IQ score for what it is: an invitation to challenge my assumptions about what giftedness means and to educate myself about my son鈥檚 needs.

I received my son鈥檚 IQ score by accident. I shouldn鈥檛 have been surprised; after all, I hired a psychologist to have him assessed. She told me that she was going to give him a test to 鈥渟ee how he learns.鈥� She was, after all, an expert, and I needed help. I had no idea that this was her euphemism for an IQ test.

I contacted the psychologist when my son was in kindergarten. He was multiplying and dividing large 鈥渄efense鈥� and 鈥渁ttack鈥� points while 鈥渄ueling鈥� with his older brother during Yu-Gi-Oh games. At the same time, my son鈥檚 intense nature took a turn for the worse. He cried every day on the walk to school. The timing of these two events made me wonder if his mathematical talent was connected to the distress he experienced on the way to school. It seemed coincidental, but I wasn鈥檛 sure.

My husband and I talked about what to do. I thought he should be tested. I had no idea what he should be tested for, but I was sure that there was some sort of test that could help me better understand my son. My husband made a prophetic statement. He said, 鈥淏efore you get him tested, you should know what you are going to do with the information.鈥� I thought he was crazy. How could I know what to do聽before I got the results?

When I聽received the results, I still had no idea what to do with them. Everyone else, however, thought they knew exactly what they meant and what I should do. According to my friends, my son was 鈥渃ream,鈥� as in 鈥渢he cream will rise to the top.鈥� Homework would be easy, GPAs would be high, and I didn鈥檛 need to do anything. The teachers at my son鈥檚 public school seemed to agree with this assessment. Their idea of differentiating the curriculum for him required no work on their part. They assigned projects and expected my son to extend and enhance them on his own. I call this type of differentiation 鈥渟mart kids will act smart.鈥� He didn鈥檛 oblige, so I changed tactics.

I swung wildly to the other extreme and took full responsibility for ensuring that the promise indicated by the number was realized. We hired tutors and subscribed to online learning courses. We enrolled him in an independent school for gifted children. After all, if the IQ number represented my son鈥檚 ability, then a subpar GPA or SAT score would reflect an inadequate educational or family environment, right? This view of his IQ score fit my “middle child” sense of responsibility perfectly. It just wasn鈥檛 true.

The substantial resources we directed to my son鈥檚 education turned out to be money and time well spent, though not exactly for the reasons I expected. I was not guaranteeing excellence; I was addressing challenges. I needed to reevaluate my assumptions about my son鈥檚 education much the same way that parents with children who have learning differences need to adjust their expectations about their children鈥檚 needs.

It turns out that his emotional intensity is connected to his gifted intellect. His sensitivity to sensory stimulation exhausted him and made him irritable. His aptitude for pattern recognition caused him to overcomplicate simple tasks. His classmates鈥� reaction to his developmental asynchrony caused him to 鈥渄umb-down鈥� his performance. When we changed his environment, he found peers who were similarly excited about learning and teachers who understood his occasional outbursts and celebrated his creative problem solving. He developed new passions and let some of his anxieties go.

With the help of organizations like the 聽that study and support gifted children, I learned about my son鈥檚 needs. I still get it wrong, and it鈥檚 those stories I like to聽share because I learn more from my failures than my successes. As part of the gifted community, I think it is our responsibility to share our stories so that we feel less isolated. So, I鈥檒l start with this story, because I am, above all, very responsible.

What was your experience when you first found out your child is gifted? Please share with us in the comment section聽below!

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