The Harmful Effects of Gifted Child Syndrome

Coming from a previously gifted child.

When I was 9 years old, I got a little note in my Friday Folder telling me I had been chosen to join an elite group of students in an after-school program called "GATE" (the initials stood for something, but I swear I cannot remember what). All I knew was: I was officially labeled as "A Gifted Kid."

Being smart was something I was told from the moment I gained sentience. I would spend time-outs in my room reading Junie B. Jones books, I would fill spiral bound notebooks with stories, I would buy little math workbooks from Barnes & Noble so I would have something to do over the summer. It all just came easily to me — school was just a fun thing I got to go to from 8am to 3pm, I didn't know it could be stressful. I thought studying was just something kids on TV did, I was never worried about report cards or standardized exams, I was just... "smart."

It was so exciting to get noticed by my school! Don't get me wrong, I wasn't cursed with gifted child syndrome until many years later. But, as a deeply empathetic child, I knew that being singled out like this was weird. It felt strange to be chosen amongst all my closest friends to participate in these after-school programs. When friends asked me what I was doing after school, I didn't say "Oh, just some cool gifted-child stuff. You wouldn't get it." I avoided the question and didn't like having to defend the program.

It's so, so harmful to perpetuate extracurricular activities for elementary school students that classify them as "gifted" from such a young age. There is no reason for a 9 year old to feel superior to their classmates and there's no reason for the classmates to feel embarrassed and ashamed of themselves for not meeting the criteria to be classified as "gifted."

But, as a deeply empathetic child, I knew that being singled out like this was weird. It felt strange to be chosen amongst all my closest friends to participate in these after-school programs.

I don't remember the classes very well. I do remember a class all about Cardiology that made me obsessed with the idea of becoming a Cardiologist (which sounds like hell to me now). It was awesome! Elementary school continued to be a cakewalk for me, so I felt like I was going to continue my stride in middle school.

I was so, so wrong.

Middle school continued to perpetuate the divisions between the advanced kids and the... not-so-advanced (?) kids with A groups and B groups. I managed to join the A group for pre-algebra in 6th grade and I wasn't surprised. I was gifted, after all, right?

The summer homework I had before starting 6th grade was brutal. I had pages upon pages of math to work on every day, it was exhausting and frustrating. I would get frustrated in elementary school when I felt bored by a task, like rewriting the same summary for a different book every week, but this time it was different. I didn't understand some of the equations in front of me and I didn't know how to ask for help.

It didn't get better for the next three years. Middle school was hell socially and academically. I was being challenged by my teachers and I was disappointing myself because I was no longer "the smartest in the class." I was losing one of my most definitive personality traits, and it was terrifying.

I'll never forget taking Geometry in 8th grade and having to sit with my best friend in the library for hours going over the homework problems. None of it made sense. Genuinely, geometry still doesn't make any sense to this day. But, this all felt like a colossal failure. Why was school getting harder? The harder it got, the less motivation I had, and the worse I did. Parent teacher conferences went from 10 minute praise sessions to 10 minute interrogations. I started feeling genuine anxiety for the first time in my life. Gifted Maya had died.

I didn't understand some of the equations in front of me and I didn't know how to ask for help.

The residual effects of being called a gifted child didn't leave me after the trauma that was middle school. High school wasn't easy by any means, but I still had the skills I had learned in elementary school to "hack" the system. I remember taking placement exams right before school started and being devastated when I placed into 9th grade Algebra instead of 10th grade Geometry or even 11th grade Algebra 2. I felt immediately that I had lost the piece of me that made me special.

Gifted Child Syndrome slapped me in the face when I started college. It began kicking my ass in the last few months of 12th grade when I got into UC Davis and convinced myself at first that they had accepted the wrong Maya (there were three of us in the class.) But, when I began taking my classes and attending lectures, I felt like a fish out of water. You mean I have to study every week so I do well on midterms? You mean my professors aren't going to give me special treatment? And what the heck is a curve?!

Previously-Gifted Children have an extraordinarily difficult time in college. Spending years of their adolescence being discerned as smarter than the rest can be a crippling handicap once it is proven that that is simply untrue. Everyone has their talents, nobody is a savant at everything, and we need to stop acting like being gifted is an uncommon experience.

My friends who had a completely different experience as me educationally thrived in college, because they had gotten used to studying and they had gotten used to failures. I was experiencing severe culture shock when I began my STEM-heavy major at a prestigious university.

When educators and institutions divide students into two categories: "smart" and "not-smart," they are doing incredible harm to the development of every student.

I got coddled for simply having a knack for school, elementary school specifically. Once I stopped feeling familiar with my classes and my schoolwork, I got dropped. My peers who weren't chosen felt forgotten and underestimated which could be incredibly detrimental to their development as a whole. I was denied the incredibly important lesson of asking for help simply because my teachers didn't ever think I needed it. So, I taught myself independence, which can be both a blessing and a curse. When I wasn't doing my best, I didn't know what to do about it, so I would just give up and eventually explode once the anxiety became too much to handle.

I didn't get into GATE, therefore I'm not good enough. I'm not in the A group, I must be dumb. So, when you start to introduce the idea that, no, this isn't whether you're smart or dumb, it's simply to make sure everyone is at the right level, it doesn't feel legit.

Placement exams shouldn't feel like competitions. Elementary school shouldn't feel like a competition. Nine year olds are way, way too young to be handpicked and told that they are gifted. A-groups and B-groups should, honestly, be abolished. Screw GATE, am I right?