As an educator, the whole concept of multiple intelligences
has always been a hot topic, at least somewhat recently. We think about it when
we lesson plan and when we evaluate students, both formally and informally. We
keep it in mind when we approach a student who is struggling with a concept
taught in class, hoping that we can draw on what they DO know to teach them
what they DON’T know.
As I currently work in an academic setting that services
students with struggles, this concept of multiple intelligences is paramount. It’s
commonly known that people of all ages, diagnosed with Dyslexia, have
difficulty reading. There is a misconception that it’s because they switch the letters
around in their heads. I won’t go into details (for the sake of time and
energy) but I will tell you this. That is not true. Some dyslexics have visual
issues, but not all. Dyslexia is much more complicated than a simple vision
issue. Many people believe that the inability to read is an indication of lower
intelligence or intellectual capacity.
This could not be further from the truth, and we damage the
self esteem of the dyslexic person when we allow them to believe it.
This past week, I have been part of a training course. My
fellow students and I are learning how to implement a reading strategy that is
well known for teaching dyslexics how to read. It seemed bizarre at first,
because it was so different than anything I had seen. Once I got used to the
base premise, however, it all made sense.
The introduction to the course was a brief explanation of
Dyslexia and how the use of multiple intelligences is essential for the
teaching of reading. Simply looking at the letters again and again will not
teach them to read any more than listening to a song multiples times will “fix”
a person with no musical rhythm or sound perception.
Today, as my husband and I were in the kitchen talking, my
daughter’s little voice piped up.
Her: “Mom, what does
smart mean?”
Whenever my kids ask me what a word means, I always try to
determine where and when they heard it, so that I can answer their question
properly. Words do not have meaning in isolation; they have their true meaning
in context. They lose their power when applied incorrectly and I (the language
snob) will not promote that in my house!
Me: (after a moment of pause to think and locate the word in
the conversation she had just overheard) “It means being good at thinking. “
Her: “Hmmm… Mommy, are you smart?”
Me: “Yes, honey. I am smart. So are you. Everybody is smart,
but we are all smart in different ways. Some people are smart at drawing. Some
are smart at singing or dancing. Others are smart at math, reading or writing.
Some are smart at building. Everybody is
smart in a different way. That’s what makes us special.”
Her: (thinking quietly). “OK”. (Then, after a pause) “Mommy,
I can be smart at anything I want!”
Me: (smiling proudly at her) “Yes, honey. You can be smart
at almost anything you are willing to work hard at practicing.”
My son had been sitting next to my daughter during this
conversation, but hadn’t spoken. Some might take this to mean that he wasn’t
listening, but I know better. My son, very much like my husband, is a thinker.
He’s naturally introverted and he likes to process his thoughts completely
before he shares them. I learned to manage this by watching my husband. If I need
him to discuss something with me, I have to bring it up a few days before the “deadline”
with no expectation of him responding immediately. I tell him what we need to
think about and what I have considered so far, and then I drop it. I give him a
“conversation deadline” for lack of better term, so that we can talk about it
in time to follow through on schedule. I don’t nag and I don’t bring it up
again. 99% of the time, HE is the one who brings it up next, and he’s ready to
talk because he knows what he thinks. He’s had time to process.
My son is like that too, so I gave him some time. A few
minutes later, I called over to my son.
Me: “Hey honey. What are you smart at?
Him: (casually, confidently, without stopping his game or
looking up) “Loving.”.
Yes, I cried. He’s right. He’s awesome at loving. The best. Clearly,
he had been thinking about it, as he was completely ready to answer, confident
in his thoughts. I walked over to him, hugged and kissed him.
Me: “You’re right. You are smart at loving, but you are also
smart at singing, dancing, drawing and climbing.”
Him: (with a proud smile) “oh yeah!!!”
I’m going to remember this day, this conversation, every time
I teach a child to read or conquer a problem area. I’m going to remember this
conversation every time my children are feeling down or less than spectacular.
I’m going to remind myself of this conversation when I, myself, am feeling less
than confident in my own life. We ALL
deserve to know that we are smart at something, more than one something. We
ALL deserve to know that we are smart.
How else would we
find the confidence to make brave choices?
