any "gifted" folks here - need stories @ curriculum

[Nordic]

Hm. Well they should feel shame. They should be tormented. I will have to admit trying to occasionally look up the guys I knew. But their names were so common that it's impossible. Hell maybe they're dead now. That would be fine with me. Seriously if, back then, I hadn't had a happy living home to go home to, there's no telling how things might have played out. One day I had a sharp pencil in my hand and the worst one, this giant fucking farm kid as strong as a bull, and just violently sadistic, was sitting right behind me. He kept violently hitting me in the ribs, as hard as he could, with one of his knuckles deliberately sticking out. To this day that injury haunts me. I was gripping the pencil in my hand, wondering how far I would get if I suddenly turned around and stabbed him in the eyes with it. I could have easily snapped and done it. Or worse. We had guns at home. So what I did was go to the teacher (this was a study hall) and asked if I could sit somewhere else. She said no. She was either oblivious or deliberately ignoring what was going on. I told her that the guy behind me was tormenting me. She didn't care. I can't remember what happened then. I might have left. I might have gone back to my seat. I can't remember.

I think he cracked my ribs. It still hurts to this day where he was hitting me.

So he might feel remorse? Fuck him. I hope he's dead. I really do.

Ok we've veered wildly off topic.

I need a less boring job. Too much time on my hands with this gig, late at night.

[Nordic]

.....there was quite a moving tv prog the other day about bullying .....tbh it was actually a pretty shoddy "real-life" reality show with all the "drama" being artifically milked and then the protaganists met off camera anyway (!) but this particular segment cut through all that...but it was from the angle of the shame that the bully had experienced over his life and wanting to meet the "boy" he had victimised to put his mind at rest....I wonder if that's common amongst people who have behaved like that in their youth...

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b053kxhs

Thanks for posting that. Very compelling.

[dada]

My experience was a bit different than the 'three-or-four gifted kids separated from the rest' one. I went to a school in Brooklyn that had an advanced program, and "gifted" kids from all over the borough took a bus there to attend. I was the only local kid enrolled in the program in my grade. I walked to school. They had me take some tests when I was five years old to get in. Math, writing, reading comprehension, and had to draw some pictures. Most of the other kids in the program moved from first through sixth grades with me, it was very rare for us to get new classmates. I don't keep in touch with anyone. A few have friended me on the facebook, but I don't interact with them. There were three other classes per grade in the school. The kids in the other classes usually shunned us, there wasn't much contact. It didn't seem like they hated or feared us though, it was more like we didn't even exist.

There wasn't any esp stuff or anything though, as far as I can remember at the moment. The classes were designed with these different "project centers," set up around the classroom, and we kids would do the different assignments in each one, and when you completed all the projects in a center you'd get a little certificate. Kind of like achievements in a video game, except without the video. It was supposed to be like we had more creative control of what to do when, you got to decide which project center you felt like working on each day. We had homework assignments and reports to do at home just like a standard class would, though I know our math, science and reading was always ahead by a few years from what was considered normal, at least.

Oh, this was 1980-86. The school got a computer room in 82 or 83, but there wasn't much focus on it. Anything I learned about computers was on my C64 at home.

Throughout elementary school I was always considered by the teachers as one of the top of the gifted class, and tested into Hunter high school, one of the New York schools where the big brains go. It was me and three others from this gifted program that "got in." Kids usually attend Hunter from 7th grade through to 12th grade. I hated it, it bored me and I was always fighting with the teachers. I would go home and read whatever I wanted to read instead of doing the schoolwork. And I read a ton of everything. I didn't fit in socially either and had my share of bullying to contend with. I dropped out in tenth grade. They were always trying to get me to go back, but I wasn't interested. I can just imagine if I had. When I peer into the alternate timelines, I see that there is a high probability that I would have ended up at Yale, and then on to the company. Glad I avoided all that. There but for the grace of god, go I.

Speaking of stories though; I've been writing a lot recently, and did a thing about being in a program where I had to play a sound and light entrainment machine when I was younger, and then had my memories erased, and have recently recovered them. The story sprawls all over the place, but that's the jumping off point. Here's a link to the little series on my blog:

http://duncanidontknow.blogspot.com/p/t ... ct-20.html

Much more interesting than my lame childhood. And sometimes, I wonder...

[semper occultus]

....thanks....glad to share....sort of satisfying human soap-opera that I hope played out in RL genuinely as shown..( which it seems to from the YT comments ) .....I thank god I never got singled out for this sort of torment ( & I could well have been for various reasons )...and I admit I really don't get that extreme pacifist forgiveness "love your oppressor" stuff ...I can't see how you can ever do forgiveness unless someone has actually come to you in genuine remorse to ask for it.....( .....all still OT but fuck 'em......hey maybe I'm one of these aswell....)

[Luther Blissett]

Inglis breaks down the purpose - the actual purpose - of modem schooling into six basic functions, any one of which is enough to curl the hair of those innocent enough to believe the three traditional goals listed earlier:

1) The adjustive or adaptive function. Schools are to establish fixed habits of reaction to authority. This, of course, precludes critical judgment completely. It also pretty much destroys the idea that useful or interesting material should be taught, because you can't test for reflexive obedience until you know whether you can make kids learn, and do, foolish and boring things.

2) The integrating function. This might well be called "the conformity function," because its intention is to make children as alike as possible. People who conform are predictable, and this is of great use to those who wish to harness and manipulate a large labor force.

3) The diagnostic and directive function. School is meant to determine each student's proper social role. This is done by logging evidence mathematically and anecdotally on cumulative records. As in "your permanent record." Yes, you do have one.

4) The differentiating function. Once their social role has been "diagnosed," children are to be sorted by role and trained only so far as their destination in the social machine merits - and not one step further. So much for making kids their personal best.

5) The selective function. This refers not to human choice at all but to Darwin's theory of natural selection as applied to what he called "the favored races." In short, the idea is to help things along by consciously attempting to improve the breeding stock. Schools are meant to tag the unfit - with poor grades, remedial placement, and other punishments - clearly enough that their peers will accept them as inferior and effectively bar them from the reproductive sweepstakes. That's what all those little humiliations from first grade onward were intended to do: wash the dirt down the drain.

6) The propaedeutic function. The societal system implied by these rules will require an elite group of caretakers. To that end, a small fraction of the kids will quietly be taught how to manage this continuing project, how to watch over and control a population deliberately dumbed down and declawed in order that government might proceed unchallenged and corporations might never want for obedient labor.

That, unfortunately, is the purpose of mandatory public education in this country. And lest you take Inglis for an isolated crank with a rather too cynical take on the educational enterprise, you should know that he was hardly alone in championing these ideas. Conant himself, building on the ideas of Horace Mann and others, campaigned tirelessly for an American school system designed along the same lines. Men like George Peabody, who funded the cause of mandatory schooling throughout the South, surely understood that the Prussian system was useful in creating not only a harmless electorate and a servile labor force but also a virtual herd of mindless consumers. In time a great number of industrial titans came to recognize the enormous profits to be had by cultivating and tending just such a herd via public education, among them Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller.

[peartreed]

I skipped two grades in public elementary school to be advanced into higher levels of learning that my teachers determined I qualified for. The most impactful result was that I was more than two years less mature than my classmates and often became the brunt of their brutal bullying, cruel ridicule and peer ostracism.

While the academic competition was a source of accomplishment the social rejection drove me to compensate with self-deprecating, creative humor and sharp, stinging comebacks to inhibit my being targeted as the helpless victim. It sharpened my sarcastic wit weaponry and my ability to capture ugly tormentors’ traits in retaliatory insults, embarrassing public exposure and even cartoon caricatures. Turning the tables was a dangerous, instant inhibitor that sometimes worked.

More than anything else the peer pressure and beatings pushed me into frequent withdrawal into fantasy, imaginative thinking and solitary, escapist pursuits like reading, writing, music and art. When the real world becomes uncomfortable you create your own. To that extent it enhanced individualism and self-reliance but left emotional scars that would inhibit normal social development.

In my case the adjustment involved escaping into superhero comic books and, later, propelled me into exploring psychic phenomena to determine if super powers could be real. The social fringes fuel unconventional interests and thinking, offering compelling paranormal possibilities and powers to the outsider seeking to become uniquely adept with supernatural ability and/or secret spiritual self-protection and solace.

Even when it became clear that extreme “superhuman” abilities were pure fiction the residual benefit of trying to expand the five senses into an extrasensory sixth enhanced, with continual practice, a mild telepathic or intuitive awareness – much like prey becomes more perceptive and protectively attuned to predators, subtle signs and warnings. Hyper-alert radar can reactivate our dormant detection skills.

So being singled out scholastically and isolated socially fosters any “psychic” sense. Experimenting social engineers and military mind manipulators practice techniques to isolate and pressure their subjects into a defensive development of coping talents.

[Twyla LaSarc]

Zombie Glenn Beck, being bumped up a grade is something I actually wish had never happened to me. And I wouldn't wish it on anyone else.

Word.

I think I might have been better at social relations had I not gotten moved forward. I suspect the worst thing of all is that due to the scheduling I missed out on math at a critical time. I have never caught up there.

[Nordic]

peartreed wrote:

More than anything else the peer pressure and beatings pushed me into frequent withdrawal into fantasy, imaginative thinking and solitary, escapist pursuits like reading, writing, music and art. When the real world becomes uncomfortable you create your own. To that extent it enhanced individualism and self-reliance but left emotional scars that would inhibit normal social development.

Yes, I read a large percentage of the books in my junior high library. Every book that I deemed worth reading at least.

Played the piano, taught myself how to fly fish, to tie my own flies, Drew and painted, picked up photography, which is still the creative passion of my life, and taught myself to move almost silently through the woods and meadows in order to sneak up on wildlife. To this day I can walk extremely quietly and often surprise people. And yes, I agree all of this heightened whatever sixth sense(s) I may have already had. Even when I was a little kid and things were far happier, I tried to teach myself to completely relax every muscle in my body and empty my mind. With no real reasoning behind it, just to see if I could do it.

I probably would have still done these things without the bullying and social ostracism, but it certainly acted as a motivating factor. I also took up running, another solitary sport, and cycling through the countryside by myself.

I don't know when I realized I could be somewhat clairvoyant. Possibly not until adulthood.

[peartreed]

I suspect that defensive or protective hyper-vigilance enables a victim to interpret a predator society’s overt threats, warnings, dangers and subtleties more accurately as experience with that evolves, but it may well be that the corresponding delay in personal social development, social communication and effectiveness might prevent sharing that awareness with others who might help control the threats.

Perhaps the more solitary expressions conveyed in a gifted victim’s writing, music, art and film/photography might expose the persecution impact to a wider, attuned audience. A corrupt social culture can hopefully be thus constrained by the counterculture of its victims, at least enough to highlight the impact of bullies.

History has shown that when enough of the persecuted are unified by oppression and join their voices and talents in a chorus of protest, it can change the world.

[norton ash]

Started at 4, skipped a grade, began Grade 9 at the age of 12. It wasn't good for me, and I was drinking, drugging and dropping out to hang with the artsy-hippie-punk older kids by 16.

I was given lots of 'tests' in elementary school but nothing memorably spooky, and was allowed to work alone in the library on 'independent projects' from Grades 2 til 8. I was usually sent to the library when I was bored in class and getting disruptive.

[BrandonD]

I skipped two grades in public elementary school to be advanced into higher levels of learning that my teachers determined I qualified for. The most impactful result was that I was more than two years less mature than my classmates and often became the brunt of their brutal bullying, cruel ridicule and peer ostracism.

Same here, I can relate. When entering high school I was not yet 5 feet tall, I was 4'11" - this was a nightmare for a high school boy.

Though personally I never seriously looked into psychic phenomena until many years later. I saw enough to sufficiently convince me that they are real, though I didn't fully understand the circumstances under which they were "accessible".

[identity]

Was anyone here not moved into a special class/learning environment, or did not skip a grade?

In my own case, I was simply clever enough, in grade 9, to see that if they would let me go from 9th grade to 11th grade English, I would have all the required course credits to "get out of jail" a year early (high school only went to grade 11 in those parts); my marks, I guess, were high enough that they decided to let me do so. Funny thing is, I think there were many other kids who could have done exactly the same as I did, but as far as I know I was the only one who thought to ask.

[brekin]

I am the son of a international grand champion in chess and double PHD and a brilliant Russian physicist who from photographs was too beautiful for words. I never met my mother because she was "lost" and never found in Turkey during a scientific summit. Being the love of his life, my brilliant but of course troubled father never recovered and lost himself in a series of affairs with numerous emigres seeking admission to American universities or resident status through (promised but never realized) marriage to my father. These multilingual women seeking my fathers favor became my nannies, my kozas, my kinderfraus, and I rapidly pick up the rudimentary use of numerous European languages by the time I was potty-trained. At three I was reading sight words in five languages. My father, though, grew increasingly bitter and possibly jealous of my growing intellect. As I started to show great promise at five with math, and his special realm of chess, he became more repressive and sadistic in his peculiar form of homeschooling. I had to study Algebra and play Chess on the sly, pretending to be watching cartoons and reading comic books in my room. Around the same time he had starting contracting with the government in forms of rapid training deployment for military and industrial technicians. While all I wanted to do all day was ride my bicycle, study linear equations and build computers and program them from kits he increasingly used me as his guinea pig for the experimental sensory training devices. This only helped to further alienate me of course from my peers because besides being a polyglot math whiz at six I now was a walking manual of how best to service nuclear submarines.

To say then, when I started school I was a little "special" is a bit of an understatement. Skipping grades and then being basically given the run of the building because no teacher wanted me in their class I was a tiny Hamlet at the age of seven roaming the halls pontificating to myself about all manner of "college level" things. But I'll never forget when I met with the school principal after numerous clashes with my peers and teachers. After having explained my unique background and experience and why it contributed to my incompatibly with modern mass schooling he look at me and replied, "Stanley, I know your mom and dad. I went to school with them. They both work down at the Safeway. Testing wise, your average, if that. You only know one language, English and not even at your grade level. The only thing you excel at is in bullshit stories." It was then I tugged my right earlobe and turned Mr. Jenkins into a unicorn.

[Nordic]

^^^ okay whether or not that's true, it's awesome!

(I hope it's true except for the turning the dude into the unicorn bit.)


Funny you would mention paternal jealousy. My father was very undemonstrative in almost every way, probably as a result of his upbringing and his military training. He was a very smart guy, but had zero artistic talent or intuitive skills at all. Totally a "left-brained" kind of guy. He's even tone deaf, and (this is symbolic) actually color blind. Anyway, I never knew how he felt emotionally about much of anything, except when he was going through tobacco withdrawals, in which case he would turn into a raging asshole until he had his hit from his pipe. We would sometimes go scattering about looking for his pipe, bringing him what he needed to light up, so he would shake the horrible mood and get back to normal.

Anyway, one time we found some sort of "can you get into MENSA" test. I was in high school. He was in his 40's. We both took the test and I beat him, and for the first time in my life, I saw that he had a real competitive streak that extended even to me! He was kind of pissed off that I beat him. Not so much at me, I think, but just pissed that he didn't win. And he was jealous. This was very surprising to me. How can you be jealous of your own son?

[minime]

I am the son of a international grand champion in chess and double PHD and a brilliant Russian physicist who from photographs was too beautiful for words. I never met my mother because she was "lost" and never found in Turkey during a scientific summit. Being the love of his life, my brilliant but of course troubled father never recovered and lost himself in a series of affairs with numerous emigres seeking admission to American universities or resident status through (promised but never realized) marriage to my father. These multilingual women seeking my fathers favor became my nannies, my kozas, my kinderfraus, and I rapidly pick up the rudimentary use of numerous European languages by the time I was potty-trained. At three I was reading sight words in five languages. My father, though, grew increasingly bitter and possibly jealous of my growing intellect. As I started to show great promise at five with math, and his special realm of chess, he became more repressive and sadistic in his peculiar form of homeschooling. I had to study Algebra and play Chess on the sly, pretending to be watching cartoons and reading comic books in my room. Around the same time he had starting contracting with the government in forms of rapid training deployment for military and industrial technicians. While all I wanted to do all day was ride my bicycle, study linear equations and build computers and program them from kits he increasingly used me as his guinea pig for the experimental sensory training devices. This only helped to further alienate me of course from my peers because besides being a polyglot math whiz at six I now was a walking manual of how best to service nuclear submarines.

To say then, when I started school I was a little "special" is a bit of an understatement. Skipping grades and then being basically given the run of the building because no teacher wanted me in their class I was a tiny Hamlet at the age of seven roaming the halls pontificating to myself about all manner of "college level" things. But I'll never forget when I met with the school principal after numerous clashes with my peers and teachers. After having explained my unique background and experience and why it contributed to my incompatibly with modern mass schooling he look at me and replied, "Stanley, I know your mom and dad. I went to school with them. They both work down at the Safeway. Testing wise, your average, if that. You only know one language, English and not even at your grade level. The only thing you excel at is in bullshit stories." It was then I tugged my right earlobe and turned Mr. Jenkins into a unicorn.

Had me going for a minute there.



As for myself, not only was I gifted as a child, I was re-gifted - and more than once.