Gifted

I was watching Channel 4's "Child Genius" tonight. A rather sad look at the lives of children with extremely high IQs - as in, the maximum score possible: 170. I'm not going to go into the details of the programme, but one aspect of it sticks in my mind. One of the super-bright kids' brother was being tested for the first time and the family waited with bated breath to see how he would do.

His result was 137. "Oh, good for him," his exceedingly intelligent elder brother scoffed, "he's quite bright." Difficult to know how he could possibly have invested that simple sentence with more disdain, tinged with relief that his brother hadn't bettered him (which, being "exceedingly intelligent" he should already have worked out was impossible given he already had a perfect score).

But I digress. My point is, the announcer declared 137 put the brother within the definition of "gifted." Who knew? When I was 12 my IQ was measured at 144. Hey - I'm gifted! Was I sent to a special school? Was I tutored at home? Did my parents fuss around me and make sure I had access to all sorts of mind-stretching and creative endeavour? The answer, as you may have guessed, is no. I just got on with it, like everyone else I knew.

Which, for me, begs two questions. One: how would life had panned out if I'd had more pushy (or maybe, more aware) parents, prepared to treat me differently on account of me being... different? (And from where I sit now, the answer to that - at least one potential answer - is very scary. I'm glad I grew up with something-approaching-normal socialisation, friends, mistakes, challenges and triumphs).

Two: how many more "gifted" children slip through the net, and end up not fulfilling their potential, simply because their parents never conceive of them being gifted, and their teachers are too hard-pressed to notice? That, perhaps, is the most scary thought of all.