Gifted Children and Honesty
Linda Kreger Silverman, Ph.D
Gifted Development Center
Leta Hollingworth, the founder of gifted education, developed a program of emotional education for the gifted. She noted that exceptionally gifted children tend to be exceptionally honest, and that their honesty often gets them into trouble. Leta felt that learning when not to tell the truth is as important a skill for the gifted to learn as any school subject. This was part of her emotional curriculum.
”By teaching these children that they should at all times act with complete candor and straightforwardness, in all sorts of company, shall we be educating them for self-destruction?”
The first essay in Annemarie Roeper: Selected Writings and Speeches (Free Spirit, 1995) is “Truth and the Young Child.” Annemarie felt that teachers and parents should be honest with children, explaining the truth in ways children can understand, then giving them the opportunity to express their feelings and ask questions.
“I believe that teachers must adopt the principle of not lying to children. This includes little “white lies” that may seem perfectly harmless at the time. There may be things that we do not wish to share with children, of course, but that also could be said to them honestly.”
I am now reading the newly released To Be Honest: A Memoir by Michael Leviton, which provides a hilarious, tender and thought-provoking view of what it is like to live a life dedicated to honesty. Michael’s parents, like Annemarie, committed to telling the truth to their children. Exceptionally gifted, Michael shares incidents of how his upbringing caused him to be at odds with normal society.
Sitting alone at his desk drawing in Kindergarten, Michael was approached by his teacher, who assumed he would rather be playing with the other children, but that he was just too shy to join them. When asked why he didn’t play with the other boys, he responded,
“We don’t like the same games.”
“What if we go together and ask if you can play too?”
“I’m not shy. I don’t like their games because the screaming hurts my ears and the running makes me tired.”
“I’m sure you’d rather play with the other kids than sit here all alone.”
“Being alone is fun.” She ignored him and tugged him toward the boys. He said, “This is ridiculous.”
“Excuse me?”
“I told you I don’t want to play. You don’t believe me.” His teacher sentenced him to a time-out. Sobbing, he asked, “Why?”
“You’re being mean.”
Michael was left in the corner in the time-out chair, facing the wall, crying. Suddenly, he had an “Aha!” moment.
“Then I thought about the absurdity of receiving a time-out as punishment for wanting to be alone. I laughed. I considered this the cleverest thought I’d ever had.”
When he told his father, his Dad said, “That’s called irony.”
Irony is not a concept a typical Kindergartner could comprehend, let alone discover on his own. Anyone who doesn’t think gifted children experience the world differently should read To Be Honest. I haven’t laughed his hard in years.
