My son Robin is everything a parent could want: bright, loving, funny, and as sweet as a peach. He plays the sax, draws for hours at a stretch, and loses himself in daydreams of science, stars, aliens, and his own fantastic inventions. (He's been working on a bathtub submarine with real firing torpedoes for months now.)
This is a kid whose first word was "Look!"--repeated loudly and often as he explored the world with an expression of pure joy on his chubby face.
I always expected him to do well in school--that went without question. I was a National Merit Scholar and earned two master's degrees with ease, and Robin's father has a PhD. in physics. His older brother, Akira, a math and chess whiz, has breezed through his homework without parental prodding since age seven and has an ambitious future all mapped out.
So why on earth would I worry about Robin's intelligence?
Trouble in paradise
During his first few years of grade school, Robin did fine. Drawing, history, computers, and science were his loves, and he began to show a real talent for music.
Then I noticed he was having trouble with math. In second grade, the kid couldn't add. He'd either count on his fingers, or he'd guess.
We tried flash cards. I'd hold up a card--5 + 6, for example--and watch impatiently while Robin counted on his fingers. When I urged him to pick up the pace, he'd guess. Sometimes he was right, but more often he was wrong. By the end of third grade, Robin was still counting on his fingers and hadn't yet learned his multiplication tables.
I started getting reports from Robin's teachers that he was disorganized, sloppy, and didn't turn his work in on time. His backpack contained a graveyard of wadded-up paper: field-trip permission slips, incomplete homework assignments, and completed assignments that never made it to the teacher.
If he was supposed to write a story and illustrate it, he'd spend almost the entire time on the drawing, writing maybe two sentences of text that was full of misspelled words.
Homework horror stories
Robin started leaving his homework at school so he wouldn't have to do it. Not that this was out of character: He'd also routinely leave his lunchbox or jacket behind once or twice a week. But when he started furtively stuffing his assignments behind the piano as he came in the door and would then tell me he didn't have any homework, I really began to wonder.
Then Robin came home one day and asked if he could have an IQ test. A boy in his class had called him stupid, and Robin clearly was afraid the boy might be right.
When Robin asked, I realized that testing might well give us some answers, and I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself. I asked around and was referred to Fred Provenzano, a well-respected licensed psychologist and certified school psychologist in Seattle.
The intelligence-performance gap
Robin met with Fred twice, for a couple of hours each time; first for IQ testing, then for academic achievement tests. I met with Fred once more to discuss the results, then Fred wrote up his recommendations for Robin's teacher. The cost was about $550.
Robin enjoyed the challenge of the IQ tests, many of which were visual: assembling puzzles, putting pictures in order, and matching pieces to a whole. He was more apprehensive when doing the academic achievement tests.
The findings were revealing--and surprising. The tests showed that Robin is very bright, but he has a huge gap between his intelligence and his performance--in part because of what Fred called "processing difficulties" in how his brain works.
In fact, the gap between Robin's intelligence and his performance was great enough to qualify him for special education, although Fred did not recommend that.
Another huge surprise was that Robin's greatest strength is actually in math logic--or big-picture, conceptual math--despite his frequent errors in adding and subtracting. How would I ever have known?
Finding what works for Robin
Robin was tested in the fall, and I took the results to his fifth grade teacher and asked for the accommodations that Fred suggested. These included allowing Robin to print or type rather than write in cursive, finding ways to shorten assignments so that Robin could demonstrate his knowledge of the subject without being overwhelmed, and emphasizing visual and tactual learning strategies. Fred also recommended tutoring.
Of all the fifth grade teachers at Robin's school, Mr. Rowe, his teacher, is the one who really piles on the work. At first glance, that would seem to make him a bad fit for Robin. In fact, Mr. Rowe has been wonderful--in part, I think, because he uses a wide variety of teaching strategies.
Mr. Rowe agreed to all of the suggestions Fred and I made. He has encouraged Robin, and he also praises and rewards Robin generously when he does well or tries hard. Mr. Rowe also seems to know when to get on Robin's case, without ever putting him down.
I bought Robin an abacus, and he uses it to add and subtract. He dictates some of his book reports and other written assignments to me, which saves him hours of laborious writing and allows him to concentrate on what he wants to say. He writes others on a computer, which helps him catch spelling and grammar errors.
I held off on hiring a tutor, but I did buy a series of math workbooks for Robin. Over the past six months, we've worked our way through second, third, and fourth grade workbooks outside of school.
All of this has made a huge difference to Robin. The tests showed Robin he is just as smart as his big brother, and this was a tremendous confidence booster. The tests also explained to him why some things are so hard for him.
He now understands that he can learn those things, but it might take a different strategy and it might take more time.
Does Robin still forget to do assignments or sometimes forget to turn them in? Sure. He'd rather draw or read or daydream than do homework.
But his confidence has been restored and his work has improved. And when he does fail to complete an assignment, Mr. Rowe is there to say, "Robin, we're going to hang you from the ceiling!"
Robin's response to this threat? "He's joking. Because he makes a joke out of something, you get the message, but in a way that's fun. And he doesn't hurt my feelings."
