The “Gifted” Students

Back in middle school – when I was in Korea – I was a so-called gifted student. I attended this weekly class called Inha University academy for gifted, where university professors taught various STEM topics. All students in it had passed a highly competitive entrance exam. We would participate in complex tasks, learn mindblowing mathematical theorems, and experiment with fabulous scientific equipment from research facilities. It was truly an eye-opening experience – but probably not in a way that anyone would have anticipated. (I’ll get to that later)

In any case, the gifted label had stayed with me throughout my pre-college education. In Korea, I was always “that smart kid” that teachers adored, which made it easier to maintain high grades and grasp extra opportunities. Even when I came to the United States in high school, my academic experiences granted me a simultaneous enrollment in Honors Geometry and Honors Algebra 2 as a 9^th grader, which was an unexpected privilege, given my lack of English proficiency back then. Surely, being a gifted student have opened many doors in my educational path.

But what does it mean, gifted?

When someone is labeled as gifted, it seems to suggest they possess an innate quality – a gift from God – that would allow them to succeed in their academics.

At least I felt that way eight years ago. Around that time, my father had told me we were moving to the United States pretty much indefinitely. I had about six months before I had to leave. As a rebellious teenager, my natural response was to say, “Screw classes, screw exams! I’m moving away anyway.” So I decided to abandon academics for my remaining time in Korea. From that moment, I treated school as a place to see my friends, not as a place to learn.

Still, I managed to convince myself not to abandon math. I loved the subject so much I simply could not give up. So I did my in-class work, maintained good rapport with the teacher, and sometimes even participated and shared my ideas in class. I never did my homework, though, nor did I bother to study outside of the class. Why would I? I am gifted, after all! I thought, if I listen to the lectures in class, I would still get a decent grade without extra studying.

Contrary to my belief, however, the result was devastating. I ended up getting 33% on my final math exam. It caught me off-guard. If I was indeed gifted, a natural-born STEM student with a math brain, this was not supposed to happen. Had it been around 70%, I would have been content, but to receive a failing grade? That rendered a completely different sensation.

It was the same sensation that I felt in Inha University academy for gifted.

An “Eye-Opening” Experience

As mentioned before, my experience at Inha University was truly eye-opening. No, I do not mean some brilliant professors gave amazing lectures, or some groundbreaking research inspired my life. While the academy was intellectually intriguing, most of the materials I learned had quickly vanished from my brain. The concepts being difficult was one thing, but I did not feel the need to cherish them. I do remember a few concepts that intrigued me, but they certainly were not life-changing.

In fact, I do not believe the academy had any effect on my giftedness despite two years of weekly trips to Inha University. Rather, I was shocked by the presence of true geniuses. Some of my classmates would perform numeric calculations and understand seemingly anything in almost a blink of an eye, and the professors would talk about how even the simplest-looking scientific phenomena or mathematical ideas could evoke mind-blowing(ly complex) theorems. So yes, it was truly eye-opening – in a way that I was extremely humbled. And when I received that devastating grade in my final math exam in Korea, I felt the same way.

Over time, I slowly realized that I am perhaps not gifted. At least not in a way that the others viewed me. I mean, I am slow at calculation, make mistakes all the time, and am so bad at memorizing anything. Although these facts may not suggest that I am in any way stupid, after those two humbling experiences, I quit relying on my intelligence and started to challenge myself to get better at math. Perhaps, this realization was the true gift that I received.

A damaging giftedness

Consider one of my students, Luke, who is one of the smartest kids I have ever taught as a tutor. Our lessons would proceed about 1.5 times as fast as regular pace, as he always understood concepts quickly and yearned to learn more. I could see how he would always be regarded as a smart kid and how he loves his reputation. He genuinely likes math, enjoys solving problems, and is hard-working. He would be the one who would fit the categorization as the gifted. However, his smartness turned out to be one of the greatest challenges that we had to face.

While it became obvious that Luke was capable of brilliantly solving various problems that he had seen before, agitations emerged when a detailed understanding of concepts was required. On such occasions, he would be quick to give up and start to demand solutions from me. That would be when our usual conflicts occur – I would encourage him to find his own ways of solving the problem, whereas Luke wants to learn mine. Such conflicts have triggered profound emotional responses from Luke, by which I noticed he was experiencing some level of math anxiety. Considering his extraordinary achievement, that was quite a discovery.

Luke’s emotional response could be explained with Appraisal Theory. Appraisal Theory states that emotional reactions can be based on an individual’s interpretation of what happened. In Luke’s case, I conjecture that he might perceive his struggle to solve a problem as an endangerment to his reputation as gifted. He certainly hopes to solve any question instantaneously, which he surprisingly can in many cases, but as he proceeds to more advanced concepts, his wishes are fulfilled fewer and fewer times. As a result, he asks me to teach him fast and easy methods. Hence, when I direct him to do it himself, conflicts occur because I expose his ungiftedness – or so he seemingly believes.

Transcending the gift

That is why I believe that labeling a student as gifted could be damaging. Receiving the reputation of a gifted, smart, and brilliant student is exciting. It seems to motivate a student to be eager to learn more (eager to solve difficult problems, to be exact). However, such temporary satisfaction does not render a long-term benefit. Rather, studies have shown that praising students’ intellectual abilities can reduce their motivation and performance, as they tend to care more about the result than effort. Additionally, when these students face failures, they would lack persistence and tend not to enjoy their tasks.¹ This study aligns with my experience with Luke and other students, many of whom I regrettably complimented their intelligence and almost immediately showed decreased performance, integrity, and determination.

It seems ironic that the gifted label, the label created to identify and support students with immense potential, could hurt them in this way. It was not until I abandoned my giftedness that I began to make some true progress as a mathematics educator. Luke now struggles through conceptual questions by going back to fundamental definitions and concepts, which, as far as I can observe, has benefitted his academic performance. Many other students of mine have experienced similar occasions of transcending their giftedness. It would be afterward that they start to make meaningful progress in their mathematics.

Gifted students are literally full of potential. Given the right guidance, their talents and abilities would flourish in their future, and, to be extra optimistic, humanity would benefit from many of them. Perhaps, it is about time we move on from the gifted label. Perhaps, the best way for gifted students to release their full potential is by not placing too much weight on their intelligence by labeling it a gift. After all, it would be such a loss to let their gifts hinder their own potential. ∎

***A pseudonym “Luke” is used for all students of mine mentioned in my post. Any coincidental similarities are unintentional.***