The Right Kind of Renaissance?

Are We Doing Enough to Support the Untapped Potential of Gifted Children Who Are Not at the Top of the Socio-Economic Curve?

By Tom Clynes

Just in time for summer vacation, the Acceleration Institute at the University of Iowa has released A Nation Empowered, the 10-year follow-up to the influential report titled A Nation Deceived: How Schools Hold Back America’s Brightest Students. As the new title suggests, academics see clear signs of a budding renaissance in gifted education. Taking advantage of expanded options, many bright students will spend at least a part of this summer in intensive, university-based programs, gorging themselves on a year’s worth of math or science or literature in a few weeks.
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And yet, one has to wonder if it’s the right kind of renaissance. As gifted children’s needs creep back into the national consciousness after decades of neglect, support for the top end of the talent curve is still a privilege enjoyed mostly by students who are also at the top end of the socioeconomic curve. Good schools and a booming talent-development industry boost affluent children’s chances of success, with legions of tutors, test-prep entrepreneurs, and admissions consultants (one of whom promises to return his sixty-thousand-dollar fee if a student isn’t accepted to an Ivy League university).

Recent research shows that high-ability students who don’t receive educational enrichment are far less likely to live up to the potential indicated by their test scores, and often become bored and frustrated. These studies underscore the tremendous amount of missed potential. “We’re not coming close to identifying all of this population,” says Vanderbilt’s David Lubinski, who co-directs the Study of Mathematically Precocious Youth, “so many of the country’s smartest kids thus don’t get what they need to develop their capabilities.” Given that giftedness can spring from anywhere—from the blue blood of Boston’s Back Bay or from a back bayou in Louisiana—it’s worth pondering how many Salks, Gateses, or Curies we’re missing, and the implications of that for our economy and society.

A Nation Empowered makes clear that we know how to confidently predict which adolescents are likely to go on to be high performers. We also know the most effective ways to nurture their talents—often in ways that are not particularly resource-intensive. And yet, we are not making society-wide efforts to do so.

By Tom Clynes, author of The Boy Who Played With Fusion

Popular Science: The Battle Over Climate Science

Climate scientists routinely face death threats, hate mail, nuisance lawsuits and political attacks. How much worse can it get?

There’s no police tape across Michael Mann’s office doorway this morning. “Always a good start,” he says, juggling a cup of coffee as he slides his key into the lock.

Mann, a paleoclimatologist, wears a sport coat over a turtleneck. As he takes a seat at his desk, a narrow sunbeam angles through the window, spotlighting a jumble of books, journals and correspondence. Behind him, a framed picture of his six-year-old daughter rests near a certificate for the Nobel Peace Prize he shared in 2007. Propped into a corner is a hockey stick, a post-lecture gift from Middlebury College, which Mann jokingly says he keeps “for self-defense.”

Mann directs Penn State University’s Earth System Science Center. Several months ago, he arrived at his office with an armload of mail. Sitting at his desk, he tore open a hand-addressed envelope and began to pull out a letter. He watched as a small mass of white powder cascaded out of the folds and onto his fingers. Mann jerked backward, letting the letter drop and holding his breath as a tiny plume of particles wafted up, sparkling in the sunlight. He rose quickly and left the office, pulling the door shut behind him. “I went down to the restroom and washed my hands,” he says. “Then I called the police.”

For someone describing an anthrax scare, Mann is surprisingly nonchalant. “I guess,” he says, “it’s so much a part of my life that I don’t even realize how weird it is.”

“Weird” is perhaps the mildest way to describe the growing number of threats and acts of intimidation that climate scientists face. A climate modeler at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory answered a late-night knock to find a dead rat on his doorstep and a yellow Hummer speeding away. An MIT hurricane researcher found his inbox flooded daily for two weeks last January with hate mail and threats directed at him and his wife. And in Australia last year, officials relocated several climatologists to a secure facility after climate-change skeptics unleashed a barrage of vandalism, noose brandishing and threats of sexual attacks on the scientists’ children.

Read the rest of the story at Popular Science

NPR’s Morning Edition

Wyoming-based conservationist funds a mercenary force to combat Sudanese wildlife poachers in the Central African Republic. The mercenaries have permission to shoot poachers on sight. NPR’s Bob Edwards reports.

Listen to the full interview via

Popular Science: Scientist in a Strange Land

Last December, Felisa Wolfe-Simon announced the discovery of a microbe that could change the way we understand life in the universe. Soon she found herself plunged into a maelstrom of bitter backlash and intemperate criticism. A dispatch from the frontiers of the new peer review.

Felisa Wolfe-Simon at Mono Lake, California, where collected the GFAJ-1 bacterium. Her paper in the journal Science, which suggested that the microbe could substitue arsenic for phosphorus, generated significant controversy in the scientific community. (Tom Clynes) Felisa Wolfe-Simon at Mono Lake, California, where collected the GFAJ-1 bacterium. Her paper in the journal Science, which suggested that the microbe could substitue arsenic for phosphorus, generated significant controversy in the scientific community. Click photo for slide show.


This should have been Felisa Wolfe-Simon’s moment in the sun. But as the television crew takes positions, the 34-year-old scientist glances at the gray, churned-up lake behind her and gathers her collar around her neck. On cue, she begins her explanation of this lake’s unique chemistry, her voice rising in volume and pitch above the wind.

She’s halfway through the take when the gulls arrive. They swoop and swirl above the shoreline in a swarm, calling in harsh, jeering tones that drown out her carefully chosen words. As the sound technician pulls off her headphones in frustration, the director Oliver Twinch halts the taping and ventures a smile in Wolfe-Simon’s direction. “How about we try that one again?” he says.

“I think we’ll have to move,” Wolfe-Simon says, peering down toward her boots. “I’m sinking in the mud.”

It is this mud, and the peculiar microbes in it, that have stuck Wolfe-Simon in the middle of one of the most extraordinary scientific disputes in recent memory. Last December, at a highly publicized NASA press briefing, Wolfe-Simon announced that her research team had isolated bacteria from Mono Lake, on the edge of California’s Eastern Sierra mountain range, that could subsist on arsenic in place of phosphorus, one of the elements considered essential for all life.

The research, financed mostly by NASA and published initially in the online edition of Science, jolted the scientific community. If confirmed, scientists said, the discovery would mean that this high mountain lake hosts a form of life distinct from all others known on Earth. It would open up the possibility of a shadow biosphere, composed of organisms that can survive using means that long-accepted rules of biochemistry cannot explain. And it would give Mono Lake, rather than Mars or one of Jupiter’s moons, the distinction of being the first place in our solar system where “alien” life was discovered.

Read the rest of the story at Popular Science