The classroom was populated by very bright, imaginative Grade 12 students. Sound like a teacher’s dream? Absolutely. The school was a “selective” public high school, one of seven in Australia’s New South Wales in the late 1960s.
The kids had been selected for this school on the basis of Weschler IQ tests, past performance and recommendation from elementary school principals.
It could be a scary classroom to walk into, and my lesson was to focus on Act 2, Scene 1 of Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
At the back of the room was a class from the local teachers’ college and their instructor. The lesson was to be a demonstration lesson for the benefit of these aspiring teachers.
The scene from Macbeth opens with some casual conversation between Macbeth and another character, Banquo. The night is dark, and something ominous is about to happen. The dramatic focus of the scene is a subtle conversation between the two lead characters.
Macbeth and Banquo are exploring each other’s loyalties, and there is a hint that assassination of the king might be on Macbeth’s mind.
I knew the kids had read the scene and understood it at a literal level. I also knew they could see where the story line was leading.
The challenge was going to be in provoking a classroom discussion about the scene at a critical level of understanding, one that would add an analytical understanding of the subtlety of the dialogue.
I asked the kids how they thought we could do that.
One of the boys suggested that, if we were shooting a movie of Macbeth, different meanings could be extracted from the dialogue depending on how the lighting suggested menace or innocence with the character’s intention.
And so the lesson proceeded with the students working their way through the scene and discussing the ambiguity of some of the lines.
At the end of the lesson, the teachers’ college instructor thanked me but said that next time he would prefer to see something not so carefully rehearsed.
There was no point in trying to explain that what he had just seen was a group of bright kids working at a level not often seen in a high school classroom. Nor was there much point in trying to explain that had I directed the lesson as the “sage on the stage,” rather than allowing the students to shape the lesson we would not have achieved my purpose — to explore and examine the scene at a more sophisticated level that challenged their abilities.
Teaching bright kids requires an understanding of what the term “gifted” means.
One leading educational psychologist, Joseph Renzulli, suggested that only about four per cent of children could be categorized as gifted. These kids would display a combination of above-average ability, creativity and perseverance. Two characteristics out of the three, say above-average ability but without perseverance, would not be enough.
Teaching these kids in an ordinary classroom in a normal teacher-centred fashion would be a challenge — and a mistake, since some of the kids would soon show they were bored.
Teaching a classroom full of such kids requires a good measure of humility on the part of the teacher, given that I had to accept that most of them were brighter, more creative and had more perseverance than I did.
But once I understood that, it was a dream job — about as stimulating and exciting as teaching can get.
It is a great shame then that in B.C., there is no additional provincial funding available to school districts to meet the needs of gifted kids.
This absence of specific funding recognition is a disincentive to districts wishing to set up full programs for gifted kids in the same way as they do for other children with special needs.
There are well-intentioned part-time programs in some schools, but generally, school districts find themselves without the capacity, not only to identify the best and brightest, but also to make sure these kids are being placed in learning situations that challenge their abilities.
And that means that some very bright kids are being sold short on opportunity.
Geoff Johnson is a retired superintendent of schools.
