Gifted and Denied

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Abstract
My third-grade teacher reads a poem. I smile, delighted to spend the afternoon immersed in literature until the teacher comes to an unfamiliar word. What is that word? I scan my classmates. They appear content and seem to understand the lesson. Why don't I? I slide down into my desk as the others excitedly wave their arms in the air hoping to participate in an animated discussion of the story. Why do I always feel so stupid and locked out of the secrets words possess? I am an Hispanic. I somehow extended the limited vocabulary I controlled as a child to succeed in school and college. Of course, a high aptitude and strong perseverance helped me emerge. However, my lack of useful terminology embarrassed me, and I worked twice as hard to compensate. I wanted to bridge the vocabulary gap that interfered with my opportunities to flourish, but escaping this handicap proved difficult. My brain stored information in two languages. Retrieving accurate terminology took longer for me. Some words I knew only in Spanish; some words I never experienced at all. No one in elementary school believed I was smart. Teachers only saw the deficiencies. No one gave me a chance to blossom or to share my own unique and enhanced qualities. Yet, I know now that I was smart, and all my A's in college philosophy and math verified this. Still, I was locked out of the secrets the world held.

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