If our gifted son had been learning-disabled instead, he’d have a tailor-made curriculum

Malky: My son is part of the class, and the school should be finding ways to engage him

Mr. Finestone: Your son is one of 30 students, many of whom are struggling, and your expectations are unrealistic

Malky

Slam. Thud. And—

“Maaaaa! I’m not going back to school anymore!”

My heart sank. Ezra was back, and from the sound of it, the promises I’d made while cajoling him to leave in the morning (“I’m sure it’ll be better today — you’ll learn something new and interesting”) were proven wrong. Once again.

Ezra marched into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of pretzels, and slouched on a kitchen chair, scowling. “I already knew everything the teachers taught today. Everything!”

“Everything?” I kept my voice mild. “Even the Gemara?”

“Rebbi just chazered what we did yesterday!” Ezra exploded. “He didn’t say a single word that was new. I know what we learned yesterday! He said it 100 times! I was so bored I just asked to go the bathroom and I stayed outside for ages. Some other kids were out of class and we chilled.”

Seriously, that was the highlight of his day?

Okay, I can’t pretend I didn’t understand. Ezra wasn’t the most socially adept kid, and he felt good that the kids out in the hallway deemed him cool enough to socialize with. But….

“Kids in your class?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“No. Like one fifth-grader and some fourth-graders… whatever. Then the principal came and sent everyone back to class.” He said it like he was describing a jail cell. “And then in the afternoon we just did more stupid math and stupid science and I knew it all already. From last year!”

I had nothing to say.

I knew all this, too; it was a problem. Simply put, Ezra was smart. Really smart.

He’s in sixth grade now, but this has been going on for years. Some years have been better than others, depending on the teachers, but recently, it’s just escalated to new levels.

He’s the kind of kid who gobbles up history and science books for fun, at home. He reads on a high school level, if not higher. He’s bored and frustrated in class and gets 100 percent on every test without studying.

At the beginning of the year, I’d told him to hang in there. Hopefully, the rebbi would get a feel of the class, the teachers would realize he needed more stimulation and enrichment, and something would change.

But the beginning of the year was definitely over — we were heading for the long haul now, and nothing was changing.

I had to do something about it. But what?