Head-Y Topics: Leo the Late Bloomer
In Amy Richards’ monthly column, she recalls examples of students who developed their talents and passions later than average--including her own student experience—and how “late blooming” is not a cause for parental hand-wringing.
Leo the Late Bloomer is a classic children’s book. The protagonist, Leo, is a tiger who cannot eat neatly, write or speak. Leo’s father is worried. Leo’s mother reassures him that Leo is simply a late bloomer and that he will, when ready, do all of those things and more. The book, written in 1994, became a classic because, in part, it is meant to soothe both children and their parents. Its message is that children develop on their own timelines, and that parents need to be patient when it comes to their children’s growth.
Leo reminded me of “Linda” (not her real name), an alumna of Crystal. Linda came from a single-parent household and was the first in her family to go to college. She was very quiet as a student and rarely volunteered to speak in class. Linda always seemed more comfortable around adults than her peers.
I saw Linda at a recent alumni event. She graduated from a big university with a degree in linguistics. She spent her junior year of college studying in Paris. She now speaks four different languages fluently. She carries herself with confidence and grace, and speaks with beautiful enunciation and poise.
“Thomas” (not his real name), a student who came to Crystal in 9th grade, also reminded me of Leo. As a freshman, Thomas was often seen being marched up to the Head of the Upper School’s office because he had once again skipped a study hall, was late to class or had failed to do his homework.
Thomas spent his first two years at Crystal accruing penalties and demerits for his absences and tardiness. Then, as a junior, he took physics. Physics, Thomas will tell you, changed his life. A light bulb went off as he threw himself into the course with a fervor. Through his ignited passion for physics, Thomas found his footing as scholar in his other classes as well. As a senior, Thomas took Advanced Physics class and, for his senior project, researched online gaming and data mining. He went on to the University of Michigan and, surprising no one, double-majored in biomedical engineering and computer science.
Linda’s and Thomas’ stories are ones to remember if your 7th grader still seems like a walking organizational mess or a timid rabbit. Remember Thomas when you hear another parent talking about his 10-year-old’s burgeoning passion for entomology, causing you to fear that your 10-year-old child has missed some developmental benchmark, because he or she does not yet know what to study in graduate school. Remember Linda if you read a teacher’s comment about your child’s reluctance to participate in class.
Thomas and Linda both had developmental timelines that appeared slightly different from the Crystal mean. Both eventually overcame the things that were holding them back from discovering passions, engaging fully with their studies, or keeping them from becoming their best selves. It took time and commitment from their parents, teachers and advisors. Both Linda and Thomas had adults in their lives, including terrific instructors, who saw their potential and elicited their best selves. They both had teachers who knew that they were works in progress and who were committed to helping Linda and Thomas on their respective journeys.
I close with a personal story. Because of my father’s job, we moved quite a bit during my school years. Indeed, I attended five different schools in a six-year period. By tenth grade, we settled into a small town in New Hampshire. Because of all the transfers and despite being a straight-A student, I was placed one year back in science class. I found myself in a science class for students who were not on a track to attend college. I remember that biology class vividly: the smell of the formaldehyde, the lab benches and, most of all, my teacher, Mr. Dexter.
I was shy by nature, and made more so because I was always “the new girl.” However, biology made that shyness worse because Mr. Dexter, who would pose to the class questions about the previous night’s homework, would often get frustrated at my classmates’ apparent apathy and lack of preparation. With a heavy sigh, he would say to the class, “Well, since no one seems to know the answer, I suppose we can ask Amy!” I would cringe every time he said it, knowing he was alienating me further from my peers.
The impact of that experience was that I purposefully made myself invisible in all my classes. I would sit on the periphery and never offer up an opinion, answer or question. This being a large public high school, invisibility was easy to achieve. My refusal to participate continued through college until, in graduate school, a professor astonished me when he said, “I prefer it when you sit closer to the front of the class because I can gauge the class’s understanding of the material by looking at your face.” “You can!?” I thought. “How can that be? I don’t understand the material nearly as often as you think I do!” I realized in that moment that if I wanted to understand and be understood, I needed to find my voice. I resolved then and there to put my hand up, once a day, in every class.
So, whether your child is a walking Superfund site, a laissez faire roamer who seems uninterested in school, or a silent observer—take heart! We are all works in progress, and never more so than when we are in school. We try on personas, respond to new environments, and develop at our own pace. Crystal is a great place to grow. Small classes, individualized attention, and teacher encouragement allow students to find themselves and their interests more quickly than I did. Linda and Thomas had the benefit of nurturing, caring and invested teachers who supported, engaged and helped them to find the best within themselves and bring it forth. Your child does as well.
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Leo reminded me of “Linda” (not her real name), an alumna of Crystal. Linda came from a single-parent household and was the first in her family to go to college. She was very quiet as a student and rarely volunteered to speak in class. Linda always seemed more comfortable around adults than her peers.
I saw Linda at a recent alumni event. She graduated from a big university with a degree in linguistics. She spent her junior year of college studying in Paris. She now speaks four different languages fluently. She carries herself with confidence and grace, and speaks with beautiful enunciation and poise.
“Thomas” (not his real name), a student who came to Crystal in 9th grade, also reminded me of Leo. As a freshman, Thomas was often seen being marched up to the Head of the Upper School’s office because he had once again skipped a study hall, was late to class or had failed to do his homework.
Thomas spent his first two years at Crystal accruing penalties and demerits for his absences and tardiness. Then, as a junior, he took physics. Physics, Thomas will tell you, changed his life. A light bulb went off as he threw himself into the course with a fervor. Through his ignited passion for physics, Thomas found his footing as scholar in his other classes as well. As a senior, Thomas took Advanced Physics class and, for his senior project, researched online gaming and data mining. He went on to the University of Michigan and, surprising no one, double-majored in biomedical engineering and computer science.
Linda’s and Thomas’ stories are ones to remember if your 7th grader still seems like a walking organizational mess or a timid rabbit. Remember Thomas when you hear another parent talking about his 10-year-old’s burgeoning passion for entomology, causing you to fear that your 10-year-old child has missed some developmental benchmark, because he or she does not yet know what to study in graduate school. Remember Linda if you read a teacher’s comment about your child’s reluctance to participate in class.
Thomas and Linda both had developmental timelines that appeared slightly different from the Crystal mean. Both eventually overcame the things that were holding them back from discovering passions, engaging fully with their studies, or keeping them from becoming their best selves. It took time and commitment from their parents, teachers and advisors. Both Linda and Thomas had adults in their lives, including terrific instructors, who saw their potential and elicited their best selves. They both had teachers who knew that they were works in progress and who were committed to helping Linda and Thomas on their respective journeys.
I close with a personal story. Because of my father’s job, we moved quite a bit during my school years. Indeed, I attended five different schools in a six-year period. By tenth grade, we settled into a small town in New Hampshire. Because of all the transfers and despite being a straight-A student, I was placed one year back in science class. I found myself in a science class for students who were not on a track to attend college. I remember that biology class vividly: the smell of the formaldehyde, the lab benches and, most of all, my teacher, Mr. Dexter.
I was shy by nature, and made more so because I was always “the new girl.” However, biology made that shyness worse because Mr. Dexter, who would pose to the class questions about the previous night’s homework, would often get frustrated at my classmates’ apparent apathy and lack of preparation. With a heavy sigh, he would say to the class, “Well, since no one seems to know the answer, I suppose we can ask Amy!” I would cringe every time he said it, knowing he was alienating me further from my peers.
The impact of that experience was that I purposefully made myself invisible in all my classes. I would sit on the periphery and never offer up an opinion, answer or question. This being a large public high school, invisibility was easy to achieve. My refusal to participate continued through college until, in graduate school, a professor astonished me when he said, “I prefer it when you sit closer to the front of the class because I can gauge the class’s understanding of the material by looking at your face.” “You can!?” I thought. “How can that be? I don’t understand the material nearly as often as you think I do!” I realized in that moment that if I wanted to understand and be understood, I needed to find my voice. I resolved then and there to put my hand up, once a day, in every class.
So, whether your child is a walking Superfund site, a laissez faire roamer who seems uninterested in school, or a silent observer—take heart! We are all works in progress, and never more so than when we are in school. We try on personas, respond to new environments, and develop at our own pace. Crystal is a great place to grow. Small classes, individualized attention, and teacher encouragement allow students to find themselves and their interests more quickly than I did. Linda and Thomas had the benefit of nurturing, caring and invested teachers who supported, engaged and helped them to find the best within themselves and bring it forth. Your child does as well.