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X-Post from K-8 Board, I think I need some help(long)

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I have never considered my 10 yo daughter "gifted". But I have been doing some reading here, and on the internet in regards to gifted children and behaviors.


My 10 yo was born premature. So her just being here is a miracle in itself. She has always, always been a determined, strong willed child. From what I have seen from her, I believe that she has a talent in the language arts and sciences area. Math as well, but only "real life" math. If you give her a textbook for math, she will balk. But if you take her to the store. Somehow, she knows how to figure out in her head exactly how much change to give back, or figure out percents. And this is knowing we have not done this formally.

She read very early. Self taught. At around the age of three. (Just Bob Books), but from there, she was already reading long chapter books, with no pictures at the age of 5. Now that she is 10, she has no problems reading from the high school books.

She talks like she is an adult. Using mature vocabulary words.

She is an absolute whiz on the computer.

She loves, loves, loves to write. Right now, she is working on her first book.

We have never done any formal writing or grammar program. I have to attribute her writing and vocabulary to all the reading she does.

She is mechanically inclined. Knowing how to cut, and solder wired together to make something work, or put a shower caddy together that this mom has no clue how to do:confused:

She absolutely REFUSES to use any curriculum that has a "babyish" tone to it. Yet, she is a hands on person as well. So, my plan for this coming year was to use HOD Preparing.

But, is that going to be challenging enough for her? I wonder, does she need something that is really going to make her "think", and get into some deep discussions. I also need something that is going to have to integrate her hands on abilities. Will HOD allow us to do this?


I am going to copy and paste her story that I posted on the K-8 board. I would really appreciate any feedback you could give me. This is her first draft, unedited. She has titled the book "Image in the Mirror". Thank you:)




Okay well this is it.

The first day of school. I walked slowly up the steps of the newly built high school. Even though I'm a junior, I felt like a freshman who was a small fish in a big pond. I felt like everyone was staring at me even though they weren't. I'm sure you want to hear the story. But, first the truth is, everyone IS staring at me from what happened last year. Here it goes......




I stepped into a grassy feild with purple,pink, and red wildflowers surrounding me. I knew I was dreaming because I felt different. Actually sort of happy. I'm almost NEVER happy.

For some reason, I woke up screaming, and thought I saw a figure in the corner of my dimly lit room. When I blinked, the figure disappeared. That's strange! I thought. The figure looked like Josh, a kid in my third period Health class. I am a sophomore at Baltimore High. It was around seven in the morning, so it was time for me to get up anyways.

"Marcy! Rise and shine!" I heard my Mom call. My father died when I was six. He had a heart attack, but I never knew how, and why. I slumped slowly toward my bathroom, next to my bedroom closet, and stared at my plain face in the mirror. I sighed. I hoped that some overnight miracle had happened and made me beautiful and make me a perfect princess, but those are just fairy tales, and I had to snap back into reality. There were no princesses stuck in a tall tower and knights in shining armor and riding on a mysterious black horse to save her. No castles. No magical kisses turning a zero into a hero. No poisonous apples to put me unconscious, and have a totally hot prince kiss me to wake me up. No nothing. Done, done, done, and done! I quickly showered and threw my clothes on. I decided to wear my favorite stone washed jeans and a black tank top with a purple scarf. I jogged down the stairs to the kitchen where my mom has set three plates with double chocolate pancakes on them. My annoying ten year old brother named Scott greeted me with:

"Hey pie face!" He burst into laughter while I stuck my tongue out at him. Scott and I were 6 years apart. I was 16 going on 17 in October, while poor, lonely Scott was ten and still eats his boogers when he sneezes (Talk about digusting! Ewww!). I sat down and pulled apart my pancake. I pretended to look at my watch.

"Whoops! Going to be late for school!" I said with a fake smile. "Gotta run! Love you!" I raced out to my bike in the steamy humid air. It was surprising it was so sticky and humid at 7 in the morning. It was only May. I hopped on with my back-pack on my shoulder and rode down my usual path to the school. I felt like someone was following me so I stopped and looked behind me but nothing was there. I continued to ride on and pull into the school. I leaned my bike against the dull, old brick on the school wall. It started to mist and the cool damp water spritzed against my warm forehead and made my hair stick to my damp face. I sighed, for some apparent reason I love days like this, even though they usually turn out to be horrible. I walked up the school steps slowly like I did this morning on my way to the bathroom. I walked into the buzzing, muddy, hallway and slumped toward my locker. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I shrieked and turned around. But it was only Josh.

"Can I borrow your notes for Health?" He asked with bright eyes. "Erm, yeah, sure hold on." I stared at him for a moment questioning my self. After a second I turne back to my locker and gave him my Health note book. "Here, you can give it back to me before third period." He seemed to be happier when I gave him my notes. His eyes looked adorable with the sparkling sense in the deep blueness. I seemed to be lost for a moment, but then snapped back to reality. He smiled "Thanks Marcy!" It seemed like he ran but I know he walked, but it just seemed so fast. I shut my locker and walked to first period, not even thinking about my scene with Josh and his weird sparkling eyes.




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