Transparency

Human nature fascinates me. I’m the kind of person who can be quite content going to the circus, to watch people watch the circus rather than watch the tigers bare their teeth before dutifully obeying commands.

Maybe it’s a coping skill – a vestige of my childhood and trying to understand the cruel nature of people and why they feel the need to taunt, tease, and break down another person who was minding their own business.

Or, maybe it’s a calculated analysis – a hope that I might pick up on some social skill that’s long eluded me so that one day I may feel like I fit into society.

Whatever the case, I much prefer to observe than to interact. It’s easier that way – less chance at being misunderstood or offending someone.

Writing, however, is an outlet for me. That delete button, especially, provides much needed control for the person who cares about precise speech – especially when the words flow filterlessly before realizing, oops, there’s a different way of saying something without sounding so harsh.

Too bad there’s no Highlight-Ctrl X in real-time speech.

In reality, I don’t find myself that interesting. I’m just a wicked smart mom who struggles with self-worth. And I have wicked smart kids who have a tendency to fascinate the general public. I don’t work in any traditional sense of the word, though I’ve got pet projects that I volunteer my time with. (Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you I’m not really a kept woman, as that would suggest I’m married to a misogynist, which simply isn’t true.)

So, I find the reaction to this blog interesting. At a certain level, I’m shocked so many people are subscribed to read this.

At the same time, I’m not at all surprised by the level of criticism I read about this blog elsewhere on the ‘net. When I stumble across some of those comments I’m reminded of wise words counseled to me long ago when I first ventured into the adult volunteer world: If half the people don’t criticize you for what you’ve done, then you really haven’t done anything meaningful. Take it as an affirmation that at least you had some effect – positive or negative.

In any event, I feel as though I have opened up my life to anyone in the world interested (or bored) enough to read about it. I recognize the pain of isolation and wanted to reach out to others who may be traveling the same path. Somewhat immodestly, I also hoped that maybe I could dispel some myths about wicked smart kids.

Over the last couple of months, I’ve told you a bit about my depression, its roots, and issues arising from wicked smart kids in early college. If you stick around you’ll eventually hear about imposter syndrome, drug abuse, cutting, more depression, acting out sexually, underachievement, gifted kids with undiagnosed learning disabilities, more depression, laments on parenting pitfalls, tattoos, and brain injuries – all from the lens of the wicked smart life.

Not all are my stories or my kids’. Other wicked smart people have generously and courageously offered to share their stories, too. If they have a truth to be spoken and feel this is the only cathartic venue for them, then I’m willing to share the platform.

Still, I managed to piss a bunch of you off because I won’t tell you my name.

I could give you a fake name to get you off my back, but that would be wrong. Aside from lying, I would have to live with the knowledge that I compromised my personal integrity just to avoid a hassle. Given my propensity for guilt, I won’t do that.

My intent is not to taunt. But, I’m hearing some of you ask for greater transparency.

So, let’s make a deal. I’ll answer some of your questions. In return, you can . . . well, you’ll need to figure out what boundaries you’re willing to respect if you decide to continue to voluntarily come here and read this blog.

---

What’s my agenda?
Truth, justice and respect for all. Seriously. It’s as simple as that. I like to ask hard questions and engage in vigorous, informed debate. I’m also a huge proponent for giving voice to those who cannot speak for themselves. With this blog, that would be wicked smart kids.

I’ll add that I am not motivated by money. And while I get great satisfaction from knowing some readers find inspiration and hope in what I write, I’m actually not motivated by receiving public accolades. My real thrill comes from seeing you’ve shared a link back to this blog for others to read.

Am I a disgruntled graduate student?
No. I’m quite happy with the degrees I’ve collected.

Why am I trashing all of gifted education with my Tangled Web post?
I didn’t trash anyone. In fact, I purposefully made no comment on any one person’s contributions to the field of gifted. That post simply outlined the professional connections held by NAGC’s board of directors and asked a single question: Out of the dozens upon dozens of gifted experts in this country, why does NAGC select from such a limited pool of professionals?

What do I have against UConn?
Not a thing. I just don’t think they’ve got all the answers on how gifted education should be implemented in America. It comes down to a fundamental difference in theoretical opinion. I don’t embrace the talent development approach to designing gifted education. As I have stated repeatedly in this blog, I’m all about nurturing the whole child and acknowledging the inherent qualities that exist within gifted children – without the pressure of performing and becoming a producer.

I will add, however, that I think the Renzulli Learning System, a by-product of millions of dollars of gifted research, is a neat tool for general education and gifted teachers who can afford it.

Why do I use this blog to portray myself as a victim?
Being frank about emotions and how we respond to certain situations is different from a victim mentality. I don’t write this blog for sympathy. Sometimes I write it to sort out my own thoughts and I feel like it’s worth sharing. Other times I write it from an empathic perspective. And then there are times when I just feel really strongly about an issue and I want to put my opinion out there. In any case, my philosophy remains that life makes us who we are. We can engage in self-pity or we can draw strength from it. I choose to aim for the latter.

Why do I not respond to email?
I respond to emails with a legitimate question or concern. I don’t respond to ones promising to promote this blog if I just tell them my name.

---

Alrighty. I have no witty or clever remarks for closing this post, so I’ll just leave it at this – Thanks for reading.