Gifted children are often very good at school.

They listen carefully. They follow directions. They complete assignments. They figure out what the teacher wants and deliver it, often beautifully.

Their teachers love them.

They earn excellent grades.

Their work becomes the example everyone else is supposed to follow.

And honestly, good for them! We need children who set positive examples, and they deserve to be celebrated for the wonderful little humans they are.

But then they walk into my classroom.

And I have the audacity to ask them to figure something out for themselves.

The nerve.

In my classroom, students have a lot of creative freedom. I give them challenges, introduce tools, help them develop skills, and then leave plenty of room for them to make decisions.

This can be surprisingly uncomfortable for children who have spent years being rewarded for doing exactly what the teacher asks.

They want to know what I want.

How I would do it.

Whether their idea is right.

And I spend a considerable amount of time convincing them that, unless things are getting completely out of control, I am probably not going to rescue them.

Which brings me to one of my favorite classroom moments.

A student was working on a project over which she had complete creative control.

She stopped, looked at me, and asked whether she was doing something right.

A perfectly reasonable question from a child who has learned that teachers generally know what right looks like.

And I was about to answer her.

I really was.

But before I could, her friend piped up.

“You know she’s not going to answer that!”

Well.

Apparently, someone had been paying attention.

After recovering from the surprise of being called out on my own teaching philosophy, I pointed to her friend and said:

“What she said.”

And that was it.

The student went right back to work.

No elaborate explanation. No reassurance that her project was coming along beautifully. No suggestions about what she might change.

Just a reminder that the decisions were hers to make.

I have thought about that moment quite a bit.

Because I wonder what would have happened if I had answered.

I probably would have offered an opinion. Maybe suggested a different approach. Perhaps pointed out something she had not considered.

And she might have followed my advice.

Her project might even have turned out better.

At least, better according to me.

But would it have been better according to her?

Would she have been as proud of something that reflected my decisions instead of her own?

I am not so sure.

There is a difference between helping a child develop the skills to create something meaningful and deciding what that meaningful thing should be.

Of course, children need guidance. They need instruction, feedback, and support. Sometimes they need someone to show them a better way to use a tool or help them work through a problem they cannot yet solve independently.

But they also need opportunities to make decisions that belong entirely to them.

To try something because they think it might work.

To change their minds.

To discover that their ideas do not need to look like mine.

And perhaps most importantly, to recognize that my approval is not what makes their creative work worthwhile.

I want my students to create things they are proud of, not simply things they think will make me proud.

That is harder than it sounds.

Especially for children who have become very successful at figuring out what adults want.

And apparently, it is sometimes hard for their teacher, too.

I spend a lot of time reminding students that they do not need my permission to think.

Now they have started reminding me.

And maybe that is one of the best signs that something is working.

Not that they never ask for help.

Not that they always know what to do.

But that they are beginning to recognize which decisions belong to them.

Sometimes the most important thing I can do for a child’s creativity is leave enough room for it to become something I never would have imagined.

And occasionally, I need a student to remind me to do exactly that.