Be Brave: A Letter to Little Girls

Can I tell you a secret?

I never liked being a girl.

I’m pretty sure this was because deep down I knew how hard it was to be a girl like me. I loved dirt, Donkey Kong, and Ken Griffey, Jr. I dreamed of playing major league baseball, becoming President, inventing better computers, and collecting rocks on the moon. I bet you know what I’m talking about—these are the kind of dreams that people smile at, but don’t take seriously. Especially because we’re girls.

Now I’m a teacher, and I love it. I didn't forget my childhood dreams. I never learned how to make them come true.

I thought it was enough to love something so much. I loved computers for as long as I can remember. I was sure that I would grow up and work at Microsoft. Did I take any computer science classes in high school? Nope. Too shy. Those classes were full of boys I didn’t know. I finally enrolled in engineering classes in college. Did I feel intimidated? Yep. Did I persevere? Nope. The end.

If I could go back and change one thing about my life, that would be it. I don’t regret where I ended up, but how easily I gave up. If you’re one of my students reading this, you probably don’t believe me--we talk everyday about doing hard things! The thing is, I didn’t learn to do hard things until I was a grown up. At least not to do them on purpose, anyway.

When I decided not to become an engineer, I had a hard time finding something else to do. It took another five years before I decided to become a teacher. But the funny thing is, now that I am a teacher, I can’t imagine doing anything else.

I love teaching because it taught me how to do hard things. I realized I couldn’t give up, because kids were counting on me.  I love teaching because I get to teach you how strong and brave you are, before your choices get so big. I love teaching because I can help you learn to love the things that scared me. We experiment with chemistry and physics, drawing and painting. I love teaching because I get to show you the joy in the things I still love to learn about. We test rockets, write code, and dig in the dirt. We plan your path to the presidency.

You know what else? The dreams I had when I was your age have come true after all. Just not in the way I thought they would. This spring, I met Bill Gates and visited the Oval Office. Soon I’ll go to Space Camp and throw a pitch at a Mariners game.  That’s the thing about dreams. They sometimes sneak up on you.

So, girls. As you grow up, remember that you are strong and brave. Take hold of your dreams. I can’t wait to watch! You might just do something that’s never been done before, because you are a girl. Isn’t that cool?!

I have one more secret to tell you. Ready?

I decided that being a girl isn’t so bad after all.

It’s actually pretty amazing.

The Highly Unqualified Teacher

I am not a STEAM expert. Science intimidates me. In school I was good at math… but that just makes it harder for me to teach math. On paper, I wouldn’t appear very qualified for this job, but I don’t care. I actually think that’s how the magic happens in my classroom—I learn alongside my students, every day.

For example, art. I can’t do art.

Agh, fine. Fixed mindset, yada yada. I can do art, I just haven’t practiced enough. And I have gotten better over the years. I’ve eased in, thanks to the magical Pinterest land for teachers. Until this year when I realized my assignments leaned a lot more toward crafts than arts. Kids walked away with a few cute posters, but few skills to build on. So, I decided to throw out all my lessons and start over. My goal: teach them skills that transfer and grow.

I decided to start with the fundamentals of drawing. I shared the importance of concentration, how to see an object as a collection of lines and shapes. Then we applied our new skills by drawing a carousel horse. A challenge for all, but that’s my job, right?

Every day I stood in front of a new batch of third graders. I smiled through clenched teeth as I failed to draw anything resembling a real animal. With an embarrassed laugh, I exclaimed, “You guys. I’ve been trying to draw these legs all week, and they just keep getting weirder!” The kids giggled with me. I cringed as I turned to add the tail.

Every day I introduced a different artist “trick” to cover up the worst areas. “I’ll add a crowd of people to cover up these blocky legs.” “Maybe I’ll crop the picture to a headshot.” “I know, I can cover up his backside with a barn! He doesn’t have to be a carousel horse.”

Every day my students followed my lead. With nervous eyes, way out of their comfort zones, they made mistakes and kept on drawing. They laughed, cropped, added, painted, created. Most of their horses turned out as disproportional as mine. They found ways to modify them into something unique, something that made them proud. 

That lesson is now one of my favorite memories. There were no students or teachers, only a group of people, trying to draw a horse.  In the past, I’ve seen, and done, the fake-mistake thing teachers often do. I’ve wondered if kids even buy it. This lesson was different. It was real. I sensed our relationships change, the trust grow. I wasn’t the leader. I was barely even a facilitator or guide. I was part of the team.

I am not an expert at STEAM, or art, or anything. That's ok with me. I’ve learned that the most successful moments in my classroom are not when I’m modeling a lesson, but when I’m being a model learner. The world is changing so fast—there’s no time to learn now, teach later. We’re all becoming less qualified by the day, so I embrace it. I'm an unqualified teacher who hopes to inspire quality learning.

The Dirtiest Word in Education

When you hear the word gifted, what is the first thing that comes to mind? Exclusive? Discriminatory? Subjective? You’re right. Historically, gifted and talented education has left behind many more students than it has lifted up. But the future doesn’t have to be this way. Supporters and opponents want the same thing. To help every child become the best version of themselves. To share all they have to give.

We are NOT doing that now. But we can.

Making a Mess

Gifted is a dirty word. It instantly puts a line in the sand; it alludes to greater value; it is embarrassing. I wish we had a word that better represented the students it labels. Students developing far from the norm of their peer group. They are outliers in development, even within their own bodies. Often with emotions too big for their brains, or brains too big for their emotions, they struggle to understand themselves and the world around them. Does that sound like a gift? We can’t let our language keep children from the support they need. These students are at-risk, too.

The vast differences between gifted programs also makes communication muddy. Some districts offer separate schools, or mini-schools within schools. Others cluster gifted students into general education classrooms. Some divide them up as much as possible, offering gifted students as role models. Other districts pull them out of class weekly for an hour, or a day, while others provide no support at all.  It is hard to speak clearly about the issue when our undertandings start in such different places.

The selection process for gifted programs is even dirtier.  In Washington, each district chooses its own criteria for anointing students as “Highly Capable” (our attempt to clean up the dirty word). This flexibility, in theory, is a good thing. It allows us to compare students of similar experience, and some districts have used this freedom well. However, most do not. They set arbitrary cut scores and call it fair. Many rely on parents to recommend students. Or teachers, untrained to understand the many dimensions of giftedness. These methods set the stage for the Big Problem, inequity.

Equity is hands-down the dirtiest word in gifted education. Almost all subgroups of students are WAY, WAY, WAY underrepresented. Everyone knows it, and almost no one talks about it. If you think it’s coincidence, spend five minutes in my classroom. My enrichment classes are full of kids typically left out of gifted programs. Low income, English learning, students of color. They will amaze you with their insight, perspective, and talent. Students like mine are in every school, waiting for someone to give them a chance. If we’re serious about equity, we must have it in our most elite opportunities.

Cleaning Up

I believe in the cleaner side of gifted; I have seen it. The field is full of research offering us a better way to support not only “gifted” students, but all students. We only need to put aside our judgments and listen, to voices like these:

• Finding High Potential Among Culturally, Linguistically, and Economically Diverse Students: Two New Scales for Equitable Identification

• Young Scholars: A Talent Development Model for Finding and Nurturing Potential in Underserved Populations

• Rethinking Giftedness: A Proposed Direction Forward Based on Psychological Science

To summarize these articles, I’ll say this. Schools need to stop seeing students only as they are, but instead, as they could be. We must support the strengths of all kids, early.

My district models this philosophy by embedding our Highly Capable Program inside a Schoolwide Enrichment Program. It starts in Kindergarten. As an enrichment teacher, I get to seek out and support the abilities of every student in my school. Every time they rise to my challenges, I push them to do more. As a result, students often surprise themselves, and me, by what they achieve.

Raul’s story is a perfect example. Frankly, he drove me nuts. He caught my attention often during class, usually by painting the chairs or shouting at students across the room. I had no idea what he was capable of—until the screening. We screen all third grade students for our Highly Capable program.  For Raul, it was the first place we saw a glimpse of his potential. He shocked us all when his score surpassed the 90th percentile on the numeric and spatial reasoning sections of the assessment.

We pulled him into my advanced math class the very next day.  Still not learning my lesson, I ignored his flailing hand for most of the period. I “knew” he was going to say something “smart”. When I finally called on him, he did say something smart. Really smart. He taught me a new way to do multi-digit division. Mentally.

A few weeks later, Raul’s team scored first place at a third grade math competition. Later that spring, he qualified for our Highly Capable Program.

But that’s not the point.

The point is, today, he’s in fourth grade and seeks out opportunities to challenge himself. He walks through the school, at peace with the world, a happy smile on his face. Raul is a completely different kid than the one I thought I knew. His life changed because we were looking. We gave him a chance.

Gifted doesn’t have to be a dirty word. Or if it does, let’s pick a new one. That is not what matters. Kids matter. Raul matters. We have to believe in, find, and grow student potential. Whether they are “gifted” or not, we have no right to limit what students can achieve.