Stones Across the River:
an Analogy on the Twice-Exceptional Child and School
by Deborah J. Paquette
Worry is a permanent uninvited-guest in the twice-exceptional
household. It eats the stomach and lines the face of every parent of a “2E”
child. The children, with their fragile self-concepts and broken spirits, aren’t
much better off. 2E families seek help from various professionals. They try
various therapies. They often push for special accommodations at school.
Those who have never experienced life on the twice-exceptional
side often don’t understand why this happens. After all, these children look
just fine on paper. Their grades are often average or above. Their full-scale
IQ’s are also often average or above. Concerns about learning disabilities in a
child who is performing reasonably well seem completely unfounded. Sure, the
child might have problems, but all kids do. Certainly the solutions lie in the
same kind of “tweaking” involved in the raising of all children. Why would
parents of such children expect schools to treat these kids any differently when
they are doing “just fine”?
Let's say for a moment that school expectations are a large pile
of stones that must be moved from one side of a river to the other. Most kids
have access to a wheelbarrow and a bridge – all the things they need to
accomplish the task.
For some reason, there is the occasional child who doesn't have
a wheelbarrow, or can't use the bridge, or both. Usually, these children are
spotted immediately because their stones aren't making it to the other side of
the river at all. A teacher might even spot them frantically drowning in the
middle of the river as they try to swim some of the stones over. This method of
getting the stones across, of course, is completely unreasonable and dangerous.
No self-respecting teacher would ever EXPECT a child to do it because it is just
wrong.
At least they wouldn't expect it from most kids. Every once in a
while though, there is a child who doesn't have access to a wheelbarrow and/or a
bridge, but who is remarkably strong. This child, at least at first, is capable
of swimming the stones across. Sometimes this is never noticed, let alone
addressed. Yet trouble brews. On some level, the child knows – as probably do
her parents – that there is something wrong. Perhaps through this Herculean
process she becomes acutely aware of her amazing strength, yet can't understand
why her stone output is just the same as the other kids’. Perhaps she can even
tell that the other kids have wheelbarrows and bridges or some other advantage
that she doesn't have. She may feel misunderstood, resentful, frustrated, and
confused – not to mention exhausted.
Her teacher, unaware that this child has no access to a
wheelbarrow or bridge, might see her large muscles and her relatively meager
stone output and tell her she isn't working hard enough. The teacher may even
comment on the fact that because her stones are wet, mossy, or are in some other
way "sloppy work" that her efforts are unacceptable. Sometimes, even when the
clues are blatantly apparent, the idea that something is wrong is completely
dismissed. Perhaps the teacher in question just cannot fundamentally believe
that it is POSSIBLE for a child without a wheelbarrow and/or bridge to get the
stones across at all. The very fact that this child CAN get the stones across is
irrefutable evidence that there IS a bridge, AND a wheelbarrow. Any other
problems that occur, it is assumed, are only evidence of the child's lack of
character or poor upbringing.
Sometimes it is recognized that the child is swimming the stones
across. It is enraging when accommodations are not made at this point. For some
reason, some people believe that the child doesn't DESERVE a wheelbarrow and
bridge if she is strong enough to swim. If a child has access to great strength
AND a wheelbarrow AND a bridge, this is somehow an unjust situation. The child
without a wheelbarrow and bridge is only getting what she deserves. "This child
is fine," they say, with just a hint of contempt, "See the nice pile of stones
she has! That is enough for anyone."
But what happens to the child in Grade 7, when the river
partially freezes? Not enough to support her weight, but enough to cause
frostbite and hypothermia? What happens in Grade 10, when the alligators who use
the river as their breeding grounds, come back? Nobody else might even know
about the freezing or the alligators, because NO ONE ELSE HAS EVER BEEN IN THE
RIVER BEFORE!
It is easy to misunderstand someone who is waterlogged and dirty
when you are standing above them on the bridge, safe and dry.
Maybe this child, for some reason, really can't ever use a
wheelbarrow or bridge, but would it really be the end of the world to get her a
canoe?
© Deborah J. Paquette 2005
Last updated
December 01, 2020
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