Hope and Super-Geniuses

My kids are geniuses.

I know every mother (at least secretly) thinks that their kids are super smart, the brightest and best-looking of all their peers. So you probably don't do more than smile at my proud-mommisms as you whiz past them to more reading about old people in university.

But I mean it. Einstein-caliber geniuses.

My youngest, at the ripe old age of 8, figured out the calculus concept of the integral, without even knowing what the Cartesian coordinate system was. The other night during tuck-in, he began explaining to me physical concepts like reflection and refraction. He played his first games of pool over the holidays, and could see where each ball needed to be hit and at which angle and spin in order to sink it while setting the cue ball up for the next shot. You could practically see the trigonometric concepts and geometric patterns flashing in his brain. No, he hasn't studied either of these to any extent.

My oldest devours history documentaries as if they were cartoons; he recorded an entire series on World War II so he could watch it in his spare time. He understands and can converse about the theory of relativity, quantum physics, and nuclear fission. He gets engineering basics and is already working on a brainchild for a long-distance water-spanning bridge. Needless to say, he's an incredibly creative thinker. He attempted to read Dune last year -- arguably an epic work involving many disciplines including ecology, meteorology, sociology, and philosophy. He took the SAT this year -- in the 7th grade -- and did better than 75% of high school seniors. His dad has downloaded chemistry and physics lectures from MIT for him to watch online, and he actually stayed awake through them and absorbed much of the material (better than what I can say sometimes...)

Maybe I do struggle with a mother's bias, but that's damn impressive.

You'd think that we wouldn't have to worry about their schoolwork, that fabulous grades would be a natural outgrowth of such intellectually-curious kids. And you'd be so wrong if you did.

We just had a conference with the 7th-grader and his teachers. By the third teacher I recognized a recurring theme, which landed me straight in the land of deja vu (or the Matrix resetting itself.) They all said something to the point of what a brilliant and respectful young man he is, but he just doesn't seem to care about completing and turning in assignments. The black cat reappeared today, because this has been a recurring theme for him throughout his education thus far (and little brother, too -- but this post isn't about super-genius #2.)

What I don't get is how he can watch me pour over my studies for four or more years now and not give his best to his homework? How can he not understand that he better apply himself now -- the first time around BEFORE he has a family of his own -- by watching his dad have to miss family dinner at least two nights a week because he's attending classes? Aren't we modelling some very important life lessons here? Those being namely: (1) You have to work hard to achieve your academic goals, and (2) There's no escaping (1), only postponing it (which is harder on everybody.)

He has known for several years that he wants to be a civil engineer when he's grown. That kind of clarity eluded me most of my life. (When I was in high school, I fell in love with music, particularly the trumpet. I wanted to perform. All of my educational and extracurricular pursuits were pointed toward an orchestral career. My father, well-meaning in his pessimism, convinced me to pursue instrumental education instead, because teachers have more financial stability than performers. The practicality of those-that-can't-do-teach drained joy's breath from my balloon, so that when my small college's instrumental music department collapsed, I didn't find another one.) And so I find myself here, finally on the clear path to what I want to be when I'm grown up, although I "grew up" almost 20 years ago. (Talk about a detour!) Many of my generation are late bloomers, but we are also innovative thinkers who prefer to do things on our own schedule and terms, whether or not that means inevitably achieving success the hard way. But that's a heavy burden to bear.

I assumed that #1 son had been spared the stubbornness of Generation X when he announced his bridge-building intentions. I was elated when he was open to his dad showing him college degree plans to get him there (even though he was only in the 5th grade.) Then there was talk of attending MIT or Stanford, or even West Point, and I was ecstatic that the curse of the hard-earned career without a college degree had been removed from his future.

And then there was a class failed last six weeks. Ouch. Not because he can't do the work, not because he doesn't understand the subject. Because he didn't do the work that he could've easily tutored other kids on.

I recently asked an old friend from high school, who is now a high school math teacher, "How do you raise the scary-smart?" He referred me to Mensa to give them challenging mental exercises. Maybe I should pursue that, but his suggestion sort of left me flat. I need to challenge him to keep up with the "mundane" work of his pre-AP and GT classes, let alone give him yet another distraction (albeit one of genius proportions.) How do I draw out that incredible intellect and apply it to completing daily tasks? How do I convince him that there's more to success than being naturally smart? That it's those that are willing to work at it that actually make it in life? That the ones that get where he wants to go are the ones that stand out in a crowd of bright kids because they were also disciplined? That so many super-geniuses are bereft of direction because they were too cerebral to apply themselves in practical ways?

I'm hoping the answer came today, when he heard all of his teachers and his counselor echoing the same things he's heard us say way too many times to be heard anymore. I'm hoping...