Asimov's Law and Advocacy
by Toni Goodman
Copyright ©1999
Recently, in a discussion between parents of gifted children, someone
asserted the following quote of Asimov's Law: "Never attribute to malice
what can be adequately explained by ignorance or stupidity."
I was immediately struck by the fact that while this seems an inherently
important principle of advocacy, it is also, perhaps one of the most difficult
to be mindful of, particularly, when your child is suffering at the hands of
that ignorance.
Webster's dictionary defines advocacy as the act of pleading for, supporting,
or recommending a cause or course of action. Yet to do so constructively means,
among other things, to inform, rather than accuse, empower rather than subvert -
precepts that are particularly challenging to implement when the person you are
advocating for is your child. There is a certain Mama Lion instinct that kicks
in when our children's well being is being compromised. Whether or not the
damage incurred results from malice or from a lack of knowledge or expertise
seems an irrelevant distinction, when your child is suffering. And yet,
acknowledging the difference between ignorance and malice is critical if we are
to remain effective advocates for our children.
Though we had been attempting to make changes in our 8-year-old son's school
experience since the beginning, we were not very successful on the whole. By
third grade, things had reached a more critical point. At their worst, I recall
leaving my son's classroom one morning and lingering in the hall, reluctant -
no, afraid to leave the school. Up until that moment, I had operated from the
understanding that, even if I didn't always agree with my children's teachers, I
could feel confident that they acted from their own belief of what was best for
my children. But this day as I stood in the parking lot, tears welled in my eyes
and I felt almost immobilized. I knew that the danger to my child was distinct
and very real. That morning he had asked me in a plaintive and small voice,
"Mom, have you ever felt like you just can't take it anymore?" And
then, my 8 year old went on to express in horrifying detail thoughts that arose
from a depth of despair I could have never imagined could exist is someone so
young. At once, the risk of academic acceleration, the many doubts expressed by
the school staff about our son's abilities and educational needs, their
opposition to options we'd proposed - seemed almost devoid of risk, in the face
of the very real danger of losing my child. This was my clarion call to action.
After months of circular discussions with school officials, my husband and I
drafted a two sentence letter to our principal in which we clearly asserted our
intention to skip our son to the next grade. Ironically, when we were willing to
assume the "risk" for such an action - many of the obstacles the
school had presented seemed to fall by the wayside, and within the next week,
the grade skip had been implemented.
During that same time period, because of our son's depression, we took him to
be evaluated by a local psychologist with experience in gifted issues. During
the course of his visits with our son, the psychologist was able to administer
some higher ceiling intelligence testing, only to reveal what a vast difference
existed between where the school thought our son was functioning and where he
actually was. His intelligence was well into the profoundly gifted range.
Furthermore, the psychologist informed us, our son was more comfortable than
most children he'd encountered, with what he knew and what he didn't know. How
incredibly we had all underestimated the frustrations this child had been
struggling with! How could he not have behaved in some of the ways he had, when
no one was listening to the ways he clearly knew himself best.
I began to learn everything I could about gifted education. I posted a quote
from Mister Rogers on my desk: "The best thing parents can do for children
is to listen to them." I let those words become my guide and mantra. It was
the beginning of a lot of changes. For the remainder of the year, we continued
to push for rate and level of instruction, through pretests, alternate
accommodations and any other means available. Now as this school year comes to a
close, our son will accelerate to 6th grade in the Fall and attend an 8th grade
math class. A big change for an 8 year old who began the year in a contained
third grade class.
After months of conflict and struggle, the gifted coordinator began to see in
our son for the first time, a child closer to the one we had described. The more
opportunities for advancement she presented him with, the more he was able to
meet and then rapidly exceed her expectations. The pride and interest that had
all but vanished, began to reappear in his projects and schoolwork. School staff
began to note the contrast in his behavior during the times when the work is too
simple (he's unfocused and all over the place) to the kind of attention he
brings to more complex and challenging tasks (persistent, focused effort). The
GT coordinator began to see what we had been saying all along. As she grew to
know our son, her ability to help him became more informed. Ignorance is such an
off-putting term, but in actuality, schools do not have much real experience
with these kinds of students. When they operate under the assumptions that work
for most of the children they serve, they extrapolate understandings for a part
of that population that functions very differently - and in fact, they are not
as knowledgeable about.
My husband and I are now seeing our child begin to thrive and flourish once
again. This year he has added to his many career goals that of helping other
gifted kids in difficulty like himself. This kind of empathy would not have been
possible for him as recently as five months ago when he was feeling so desolate,
alone and miserable in his own skin.
The school's GT coordinator told us the other day that she had held two
meetings recently - one with the school's primary staff and the second with the
intermediate teachers. At those meetings, she suggested the need for our school
to reevaluate previously held perceptions regarding academic acceleration. She
reported to us that a very positive and productive dialogue had ensued. To me
this was one of the greatest measurements of how far we've come. It means that
in the wake of our family's painful year, we are leaving a roadmap for others to
follow. Among the trailblazers will be our younger daughter, who will be double
promoted from first to third grade in the Fall.
It is sometimes difficult to see an absence of malice when the result of
ignorant practices can be equally devastating to our gifted children. But
Asimov's distinction between the two can help us become more effective advocates
by reminding us of our need to inform in order to reform.
Thanks!
