What is Your Genius?

A well-known quote:

"Everybody is a genius. But, if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it’ll spend its whole life believing that it is stupid.” 

–  ascribed- rightly or wrongly- to Albert Einstein

In today's WaPo, I came across the following book review for "The Spark:  A Mother's Story of Nurturing Genius", by Kristine Barnett:

Barnett tells the story of her son, Jake, who at age 2 received a diagnosis of autism. (Autism is one of several disorders that have been redefined in the DSM-5, the revised bible of mental disorders, to be released this weekend.) As most parents would, the Barnetts relied on special ed teachers provided by the state (they live in Indiana) to guide them.

At age 3, Jake was enrolled in “life skills” classes in hopes that he might learn, as Barnett says, to “tie his own shoes at sixteen.” Often, though, Jake was so absorbed by other things — shadows on the floor, plaid patterns on clothing and, especially, alphabet flashcards — that he couldn’t be persuaded to attend to the lessons. At the beginning of “The Spark,” Barnett describes a chilling comment made by Jake’s special ed teacher on a home visit, after insisting that the boy leave his beloved alphabet cards at home: “We don’t think you’re going to need to worry about the alphabet with Jacob.” In other words, she didn’t think Jake would ever learn to read.

That was the moment, Barnett recalls, that she decided to buck the “experts” — she almost always uses that term derisively — take Jake out of special ed classes and homeschool him in an environment that would “lean into his passions.” Jake got alphabet cards galore, as well as maps (another passion) and puzzles. Barnett managed not only to mainstream Jake into kindergarten, she also did the same for many other autistic kids in the learning center, Little Light, that she ran out of her garage.

That achievement alone would be extraordinary, but here’s the kicker: The Barnetts discovered when Jake was a little boy that he’s a math and science prodigy. Turns out, he has an IQ higher than Einstein’s. At 3, Jake was arranging hundreds of crayons in the order of the color spectrum; a few years later, he memorized pi to the 200th digit and could recite it forward and backward. At 9 he began working on a theory in astrophysics that, according to those who can understand it, may put him in line for the Nobel Prize; at 11 he started college. Last summer, at 12, he became a paid university researcher in quantum physics. And, yes, Jake can tie his shoes.

~~~

Barnett’s woman-warrior battle — initially, against her husband’s wishes — to defy the experts and unearth Jake’s personality and potential is inspiring. Parents of children with developmental challenges, as well as those blessed with normally functioning children, will take away a lot from “The Spark.” After that disastrous visit from the special ed teacher, Barnett asks her husband the key question: “Why is it all about what these kids can’t do? Why isn’t anyone looking more closely at what they can do?” Surely that insight speaks to all types of learning situations.

The Einstein quote is about bucking the "one-size-fits-all" system of education that tries to conform the student to fit the system.

As Bruce Lee noted,

"Man, the living creature, the creating individual, is always more important than any established style or system." 

 By way of analogy, I recall (I think it was in the Tao of Jeet Kune Do) the story of how a one-legged martial artist gained a reputation as an undefeatable martial artist.  Soon, he had many students flocking to learn his style of fighting- which involved standing on one leg!  So now you have all these two-legged students "handicapping" themselves by standing on one leg, trying to fight like their teacher. 

Bruce Lee didn't want to create carbon-copied versions of himself in his students.  He didn't want followers.  He wanted thinking martial artists who were there alongside him to research and explore and be their own unique selves, realizing their own unique potential.  Imitation, after all, is pale in comparison to the original artist; so why be another Bruce Lee?  Be yourself, and find your own inner genius.



It's important to discover your "inner genius" and know what the God-given talents are that you were gifted with.  But if you also happen to be a fish who wants to climb trees (not one being forced to do so), do be realistic about it; but don't let your natural limitations stop you from going after your dreams.

Finally, a couple more allegories:

A long time ago, when the animal creation was being differentiated into swimmers, climbers, fliers, and runners, there was a school for the development of the animals. The theory of the school was that the best animals should be able to do one thing as well as another; and if there was an apparent aptitude in a given animal for doing one thing and an apparent inaptitude for doing other things, the time and effort should be spent upon the latter instead of the former.
If one had short legs and good wings, the attention should be given to running so as to even up the qualities as far as possible. So the duck was kept waddling instead of swimming, the pelican was kept wagging his short wings in the attempt to fly. The eagle was made to run and allowed to fly only for recreation, while maturing tadpoles were unmercifully guyed for being neither one thing nor another.

All this in the name of Education.

Nature was not to be trusted in her make up of individuals, for individuals should be symmetrically developed and similar for their own welfare as well as for the welfare of the community. The animals that would not submit to such training, but persisted in developing the best gifts they had, were dishonored, called narrow-minded and specialists, and special difficulties were placed in their way when they attempted to ignore the theory of education recognized by the school.

No one was allowed to graduate from that school unless he could climb, swim, run, and fly at a certain prescribed rate. So it happened that the time taken by the duck in learning to run the prescribed rate had so hindered him from swimming that he was scarcely able to swim at the prescribed rate, and in addition he had been scolded, threatened, punished, and ill-treated in many ways so as to make his life a burden, and he left school humiliated, and the ornithorhyncus could beat him either running or swimming. Indeed, the latter carried off the prize in two departments.

The eagle made no headway in climbing to the top of a tree. Though he showed he could get there just the same, the performance was counted a demerit, as it had not been done in the prescribed way.

An abnormal eel with large pectoral fins proved he could run, swim, climb trees, and fly a little; he was made valedictorian.

I believe the following is attributed to Professor Amos E. Dolbear of Tufts College:

When the animals decided to establish schools they selected a school board consisting of Mr. Elephant, Mr. Kangaroo and Mr. Monkey, and these fellows held a meeting to agree upon their plans.

“What shall the animals’ children be taught in the animal school? That is the question,” declared Mr. Monkey.

“Yes, that is the question,” exclaimed Mr. Kangaroo and Mr. Elephant together.

“They should be taught to climb trees,” said the monkey, positively. “All my relatives will serve as teachers.”

“No, indeed!” shouted the other two, in chorus. “That would never do.”

“They should be taught to jump,” cried the kangaroo, with emphasis. “All of my relatives will be glad to teach them.”

“No, indeed!” yelled the other two, in unison. “That would never do.”

“They should be taught to look wise,” said the elephant. “And all of my relatives will act as teachers.”

“No, indeed!” howled the other two together. “That will never do.”

“Well, what will do?” they asked, as they looked at each other in perplexity.

“Teach them to climb,” said Mr. Monkey.

“Teach them to jump,” said Mr. Kangaroo.

“Teach them to look wise,” said Mr. Elephant.

And so it was that none of them would yield, and when they saw there was no chance to agree, they all became angry and decided not to have any animal schools at all.

Forbes offers its own adaptation of "the animal school fable".

"We are born princes and the civilizing process makes us frogs"

-Eric Berne

Bottomline:  Know your strengths and weaknesses and develop them accordingly.

And as gymnasts, don't be afraid to question your coaches when they are teaching you "monkey" climbing skills, when you really are a fish at heart.  You might be misdiagnosed as an overshoot gal when a pak salto is really your thing; it might be a better investment of your time to develop your front tumbling and twisting skills as opposed to forcing you into back twisting that has never felt natural to you.  Unless you really have a passion to get a tkatchev, consider your body-type and natural physical and mental abilities might actually have you inclined toward jaegers, instead.

Know thyself, and abide in that state.