In Case You (Or Your Kid) Are “Gifted”

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Seeing kids, especially boys, potentially be misdiagnosed with ADHD bothers me to my core. There has been a rise in the number of kids ages 12 — 17 being diagnosed with ADHD. It comes down to a system that resorts to medicating kids instead of truly evaluating them. Many of them actually do well on standardized tests.

And yes. I have questions about the value of IQ tests and standardized tests, and I admit that I’ve fared well on them in the past.

However, I haven’t ever been a big supporter of standardized tests or grades because both are biased in their own ways to a degree to make them ineffective in some cases.

How do you measure the intelligence of a dyslexic high-school dropout like Daymond John who goes on to build a multi-million dollar company from the ground up?

If you are “highly gifted,” you probably don’t know you are or what it means. Here’s a personal breakdown.

The “Why” Kid

My friends often wanted to know “what?”, but I wanted to know “why?” This what drove me to tear apart toys and touch wires together to see a light flicker. It’s why listening to teachers was a work-in-progress for me as a kid. And it was why I was different.

I remember doing calculations in my head in childhood. If I did the work, I would get a grade. To me, the grade didn’t matter. Getting the work done mattered more. I wasn’t a straight-A student in grammar school, but I did well enough early on to average a B or sometimes a C. In between what some would call lukewarm grades, irritating teachers and taking standardized tests, something baffling happened.

A Blip in the System

By the third grade, I had built a fairly solid group of friends or associates, and we punched each other in class or out of class.

I wasn’t going to win any behavior awards from my teacher, and I was a classroom tussle away from being condemned to the “bad boys class.”So was Darnell, a bullyish associate who towered a head above me. Third grade was also the first year of our standardized tests.

As the time approached for us to take our standardized tests, Darnell and I, along with a few other boys who didn’t sit down enough in class, found ourselves being evaluated for the “bad boys class.”

“Bad boys classes” was a common theme across Chicago schools in the 90s. These were rooms drained of knowledge and stuffed with mostly boys with “behavioral” problems. The sole purpose was to confine these boys for 6 — 8 hours a day. They, in essence, were academic prisons.

Some of the primary determining factors for a boy to be cast away to one of these classes were disruptive behavior and low test scores. An accompanying observation by a mental health professional would seal the deal in practice. I mention this with a caveat because, even though there was a system, boys were sometimes placed in those classes quickly without throughly following all the necessary procedures.

At any rate, I took my first standardized test. So did Darnell and some of our other friends. And time went on.

Between third and sixth grade, I saw a number of my associates exiled to the bad boys class. By the sixth grade, Darnell and I remained.

However, when we took our test in sixth grade, Darnell was moved from our class to the bad boys class. Some of the boys he’d punched on saw it as a victory. It gave me pause and something to reflect on.

Early on, when I got my test results back in third grade, I had smiled on the inside. My chest expanded a little more. I didn’t share my results with my friends. I’d seen theirs, and I didn’t feel comfortable.

But by the sixth grade, I had embraced and somewhat understood what was happening. I’d spent so much time reading and figuring things out, I’d acquired a fair amount of knowledge flipping through deserted textbooks at home. It was paying off in ways I didn’t intend.

An Understanding

As eighth grade sped by and the prospect of high school got closer, I knew who I was juxtaposed to my peers. I also knew who I was to me, who I wanted to be and who I didn’t want to be.

When I got to high school, I wanted to excel. I knew I didn’t do well with forces attempting to suppress my autonomy. This would be an issue.

In class, I could tell a teacher why the class was boring, but I could also write a five-page analysis and back it up with credible sources.

Really, I had no respect for the grading system. I had witnessed teachers’ pets get one A after another but fail drastically on tests. One particular girl was the best at getting grades, but she didn’t do great on the ACT. Most teachers’ pets didn’t.

I did the homework because I wanted to pass, and I knew my GPA mattered for college acceptance. So, I finished all of my worksheets and got relatively better grades than I had in grammar school, but I still found myself in the Principal’s office.

Go to the Office. Now.

There was a time our English teacher mentioned a poem called “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. It was one of my favorite poems, so much so, I had memorized it. I asked the teacher if I could read the poem or say it from memory, and she said, “No.” I could do neither. It was a sharp, abrupt response delivered with the kind of eye contact that could melt plastic.

Up to that point, she and I had not been fans of each other. Her refusal to allow me to participate didn’t help. I replied, “They’ll let anybody be a teacher here.” Days earlier, we had received notice that some of our teachers were not qualified and had a certain amount of time to obtain the proper licensing or be dismissed. Her name was on the list. My comment probably rattled her more because of this.

So, she sent me to the Principal’s Office. The office heard what had happened, and in return they sent me back to class without a punishment. When I came back, the teacher looked like I had broken into the school. She stormed out to the office. When she came back, she was flustered. Whatever rude statement she said to me, I didn’t give her a reply.

This was probably my first time witnessing a teacher working hard to get me suspended and becoming irritated when my behavior didn’t amount to those repercussions. I understood that my voice would aggravate authority figures. But I had the ACT to think about.

A Break from Conformity

As important as grades were, the ACT was even more important. A bad score could mean not being accepted to the university of my choice. Although our school tried preparing us for the test our junior year, many had not been prepared well enough.

But we took the test, and I tied for the highest score with a girl whose name sounds like mine. It was a warm, welcome win for me and her to share. But it was also validation for some about me.

From grammar school through high school, I had evolved from being viewed as the joking rough houser to the more serious but still rebel version of who I have always been. I love my autonomy, and having someone overlording me doesn’t work.

I have often laughed in the face of authority and been singled out for it. Professionals within the education system often acted impulsively and out of spite. Some kids become victims to this and are medicated into compliance. Others stand solid, refusing to break.

Why It Matters

Whether you are the gifted or you have a child who is the gifted, you or they may be misunderstood. Kids, even adults, seen as disrupters often face backlash due to being misunderstood.

You don’t find joy in simple tasks. You thrive when your work is like a puzzle shattered into a million pieces that you have to put back together.

Your knowledge and analysis of the world is intense, and it can intimidate others. Your mind becomes this intriguing foreign concept they can’t come to comprehend. But your energy brings people to you, and there are others like you. Find them, and connect.

If You Have a Gifted Kid

Your gifted kid has a chance of being misdiagnosed with ADHD, especially between the ages of 12 and 17. During this time, kids are struggling with transitioning from grammar to high school or from there to college.

Still, others are struggling with hormones, picking colleges or jobs, having their first relationships and making life decisions. 12 — 17 is a high-stress time for kids, especially high-level thinkers. The combined stressors can make certain behaviors show up more prevalently. This doesn’t mean they should be medicated.

If your child is gifted, buy them puzzle books or puzzle games. Get them some engineering kits and books. Let them break things, specifically electronics. Help them build.

Ask questions. Participate. Give them space but be within arm’s reach. Don’t medicate them for being kids, even when they are being disagreeable. That’s what being a kid is to some adults summed up.

The Takeaway

Being a gifted kid may come with being misunderstood and sometimes having differences with figures of authority and no patience for mental boredom. However, this behavior can be misconstrued as disrespectful or indicative of ADHD or similar disorders. Children are being diagnosed more and misdiagnosed more, especially between the ages of 12 and 17.

If your child displays any behavior that may be misunderstood, try to get to know their mind. Try to understand how they think before you medicate them. Their brain is not fully developed until 25, so be cautious of potentially changing who they are forever.

If you are gifted, embrace it. Connect with people who fuel your curiosity. Revel in still having the inspiration to ask “why” and the motivation to seek the answer, piece by piece.

FOLLOW the author Jermaine Reed, MFA on X @Jermaine Reed, MFA for his controversial but real hot takes.