Please Stop Telling My Son He’s Exceptional. He’s Not

Please Stop Telling My Son He's Exceptional. He's Not.
Please Stop Telling My Son He's Exceptional. He's Not.

My 5-year-old son is used to hearing how smart he is. How his memory is "incredible" and his vocabulary is "impressive" and his brain is just so, so, so amazing.


"Michelle! Did you hear what your son just said?! He's soooo smart," he hears.

Now I'm not saying it's completely unwarranted. What I am saying is that it's often coming from love-beaming family members who are astounded that this little boy is suddenly using big words and reading sentences. He was the first baby our family had in decades, and I so appreciate the pride and unfiltered love that they wrap around my little boy like a safety net.

But is it healthy for him to be over-praised for things that are basic parts of growing up? Because the truth of the matter is this: He's not all that exceptional.

While he's certainly smart - and by smart, I mean he learns the way we expect him to learn, and he has an innate hunger for information - he's developmentally on par with the ordinary 5-year-old kid. He wasn't reading chapter books at 3 years old, nor is he solving high-level math formulas. And that's okay! (I'm actually quite relieved, after peeking into the lives of families with actual gifted children.)

If you were to pin him on a Spectrum of Smarts with other 5-year-old kids, he'd fall closer to "normal" than "super genius." But if you asked him, he'd probably place himself in the "genius" category. Ahem. He's quite confident in his skills - overly confident, one might say. But if you heard a thunderous round of applause for jumping rope not once, but twice - and if you heard ego-stroking, inflated statements like, "You read that word? You're the SMARTEST BOY IN THE WORLD!" - then you'd be confident, too.

Related: 7 things you should never say to a kid

There's plenty of research on how over-praising kids is actually holding back their self-esteem. How it creates unrealistic expectations and a fear in failing, because when a kid identifies as "smart," then failing at something is a direct threat to their identity. (If I fail, will my parents still think I'm smart? And if I'm not the "smart one," then what am I?) And the research shows a clear pattern that kids pumped up with excessive non-specific praise actually resist challenging themselves, preferring to stick with what's comfortable.

Not my kid. I will not have that, you hear?

On the most basic level, it's pretty crappy for grown adults to limit children with these black-and-white labels that have vague definitions. Let's remember that our society defines "smart" in a results-driven way - a definition that he'll absorb from standardized tests and awards. You succeed, you ace a test, you say the right word, then SMART. You fail, you flunk, you flubber, then NOT SMART. And when it's already determined that he's unequivocally s-m-a-r-t (because that's what he hears from the people he trusts the most), then are we giving him enough room to grow? A false sense of self?

Unnecessary delusion?

But like I said, he is smart. Not because he can win and succeed, or because he's superior to his peers, but because he has a tenacious hunger to learn. He tries really, really hard; and then when he messes up, he tries again. He picks up on social cues, is empathetic, and thinks critically. He strives to add happiness to people's lives, he knows how to strategically get what he wants, and he's kind.

These are qualities to admire and encourage. You see, blanketing my boy with watered-down identity labels doesn't do him any good. He needs to know that it's okay to fail and stumble and be not-so-good at things - in fact, I hope he fails from time to time. He can't always be the best. He won't always be the best. So why are we pretending that he is?

So the next time he reads the word "ball," or hops over a jump rope, or does anything ordinary and expected, try to choke down the enthusiasm. Smile, nod, compliment his efforts. Keep your cool.

Because at the end of the day, screwing him up is my responsibility. I've got this on my own, folks.

Photo source: Michelle Horton

-By Michelle Horton

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