KEY POINTS:
To her parents, there was nothing unusual about Bronwyn Symons counting to 20 at the age of 2. Bronnie, now 11, was Glen and Sheena Symons' first child. Surely, all children do this, they thought. So, as Bronnie turned from reciting numbers to reading, then story telling, they accepted it as a case of normal child development.
"When she was little," says Sheena Symons, "everybody used to say she was a switched-on little girl."
They were right. Whoever said mum and dad know best?
Bronnie is one of a group of children now identified through their schools as "gifted". One day a week, she leaves the school she normally attends, and attends the Gifted Kids Programme, where her mind is challenged in a way most children will not experience at school.
She is among a movement which takes in 40,000 Kiwi kids, using the rough rule that 5 per cent of the population falls into the category of "gifted".
Although it is left to individual schools to define "gifted", it is generally taken to mean a child who shows exceptional abilities in an intellectual, creative or artistic area; shows a capacity for leadership lacking in others; or is brilliant in one particular area.
In 2005, the Ministry of Education issued its national guidelines for schools, telling principals what they were legally bound to provide for the children of New Zealand.
It was the strongest public indication of a profound ideological shift in education thinking - for years an egalitarian, non-streamed approach to education was giving way to the needs of exceptional children.
For the first time there was a guideline on gifted children; schools had an obligation to make accommodation for teaching those who were different, in the same ways schools are obliged to educate - often in a different way - those who were "special". And yes, the word "special" is used in a different way from the word "gifted".
The ministry then turned it over to schools, which identify the "gifted" children among their ranks and find ways to meet their special educational needs.
In the past few months, the Education Review Office has started measuring schools on how they are meeting their obligations to those children.
Some handle it in-house, pooling "gifted" children so they learn as a group. Others send kids to programmes, like that run by the Gifted Kids Programme (GKP). In this case, satellite schools feed into a "gifted" kids' classroom run at a central school one day a week.
At Tamaki Intermediate last week, Sue Barriball was guiding her class of young GKP wonders through their last "gifted" class of the year.
There is a marked difference between the classes most parents see their children in and this class. It is separate from the school, and is funded by the GKP. The classroom and the teacher come from the programme's budget, not the school's.
First, the class size is striking. The 16 children sit in four clusters of four. A row of computers is along the back wall, which means more access for the children who attend this class than many kids have at their schools.
The class work is displayed on the wall, with photographs of class trips to Motat, Auckland Zoo, and the museum. A carefully crafted menu for "Frankenstein's Halloween ball" is pinned to one wall. It starts with soup that is "a mixture of human vomit and sheep droppings" with "dried skin chips to soak up the soup".
Barriball is a revelation, leading the class with an enthusiasm and energy that any parent would want for their child. This morning's lesson - what to do when lost at sea - is like most taught in this room. It challenges the brain's conventional channels and encourages new ways of thinking with alternate methods of problem solving.
It exercises the mind in ways that more traditional maths, English or science lessons might not.
Barriball has taught for 26 years, and has increasingly leaned towards teaching the "gifted", after her three children fell into that category.
To resolve the problem of being lost at sea, Barriball encourages the children to use "Bloom's Taxonomy", a logic tool to classify goals. Applying Bloom's "evaluation matrix", the class measures the needs they have against the objective, which is survival.
Jamie: "You could use a process of elimination - pluses and minuses."
Barriball: "Why do you think, when Bloom sorted out this method of thinking in the 50s, he put evaluation at the top?"
An extra sail, a motor, a GPS unit, extra food and water - a long life is looking increasingly promising as the class deciphers the ingredients of survival.
As gifted as they are, kids are still kids. Asked what she needs to survive being lost at sea, one girl says: "My dog".
The class is quiet, engaged and working hard. The children seize problems with passion, wrestle puzzles for solutions and pound Barriball with questions. They are bright, no doubt, and precocious. "Where are the rubbers, Sue," asks one, exasperated. "We always seem to run out of rubbers."
The lobbying it took to get here was incredible. Barriball says it took 20 years of "knocking on doors" to get education authorities to recognise that some children needed to be treated differently. The determination to treat all children the same "was very in vogue for a long time, and gifted children suffered as a result", she says.
"In New Zealand, it came down to that egalitarian thing. You wouldn't do anything extra - everyone gets treated the same."
Now, children at schools in the Gifted Kids Programme are evaluated against a series of traits and academic achievements as to whether they need special help. The children, parents and teachers are quizzed, and if they are accepted they are taken from their schools one day a week to come under Barriball's tuition.
"They approach things differently, they learn much faster." Some children who have gone through Barriball's classes have been IQ tested, which, although not considered the final word in measuring "giftedness", is still indicative.
An IQ of 100 is considered average, and a range of 80 to 120 covers most of the population. "Gifted" kids tend to range upwards from an IQ of 120, and Barriball has taught some in the high 150s - enough for Mensa entry and certainly exceptional. Barriball: "Most teachers wouldn't see a child that bright in their career."
For almost 25 years, Sheryl Burns has fought to get recognition for children just like those. Burns' work, recognised with a Queen's Service Medal, has been a part of the national culture change which means she now sees these children taught one day a week at the George Parkyn Centre for gifted children, where she is assistant director.
She says it's hard to convince many people that the need is genuine. These children are seen as "lucky kids", born with exceptional minds - why should they get more than other children when they are so blessed, already, by nature?
Burns says the reason we should care about these children is that failing to would be "false economy". Failure to meet their special needs leads to boredom, frustration, potential depression and other problems.
Politicians, who can meet those needs, are focused on the three-year electoral cycle. "They don't look 20 years down the track."
Suicide or jail are the potential destinations for gifted children whose needs are not being met, Burns believes.
It has helped that, after intensive lobbying, the Government now recognises the need and that schools are now obliged to cater for gifted kids. It led to Ministry of Education sponsorship of some programmes and improved professional development for teachers. There are also advisers from the ministry available to help schools.
"But even now we think there is a hell of a lot more to do," says Burns.
More funding, greater professional development, better teacher training - these are just some of the issues that need greater attention. Always, in education, there is need.
"We have to charge our parents fees here [$60 a week] and we know there are a lot of kids who can't come here because of the fees. These kids are entitled to education that fits their needs, just like other kids. These are our leaders of the future - or they are the kids who end up in jail or as suicide statistics."
The shift is slow. "It's all very well to get the football team up on stage every Monday and say 'didn't they excel at the weekend?' Kids who do well academically don't get the same recognition."
The problem appears to be "the New Zealand condition" and it's obvious why the New Zealand Association of Gifted Children calls its members' magazine Tall Poppies.
A culture shift has taken place which has allowed Kiwis to "recognise and celebrate difference", according to Roger Moltzen, Waikato University associate professor and patron of the association.
"I grew up in a New Zealand where a preoccupation with conformity drove a lot of policies and practices. There was almost an 'ideal' person specification we worked towards - that to be united as a country, we had to be the same and where diversity or difference was seen as a threat to this. The shift has been significant."
Part of that shift has been a fresh approach to competition.
For many years, education was governed by the principle "we all held hands and crossed the line together", meaning there were "no losers and competition became a dirty word," says Moltzen. He also compares past treatment of sporting success and academic success and says the former was accepted over the latter.
He believes this, too is shifting, with a general "celebration" of high performance.
The culture change holds great promise for the children who are part of it. While the system here is developing, and much work needs to be done, New Zealand's "inclusive" approach and school-driven focus is attracting interest abroad.
But, says Moltzen, the sector is "under-resourced". No dedicated funding goes to schools to fund their obligations to gifted children. More focus could be given on "gifted" children during teacher training.
In most cases in New Zealand, gifted content comprises a module within compulsory courses. Dedicated courses are optional rather than compulsory. However, some universities offer specialist courses at the postgraduate level.
For some we have spoken to, it is telling that the Ministry of Education was unable to arrange an interview with an expert on "gifted" children with a week's notice. One educator said, with a tired sigh: "Does that answer your question about what needs to be done? That's why, sometimes, we get a little disillusioned."
It's not easy being "gifted", or having "gifted" children. Parents can place uncomfortable pressure on children, and those children find themselves in the painful position of being isolated among others of the same age.
Bronnie Symons gets teased about being bright, and has been called "nerd", and probably "geek", judging by the labels attached to other kids seen by the Herald on Sunday who have been through the "gifted" programmes.
"She's proud she's a 'nerd'," says mum Sheena Symons.
"Not that she lords it over people. But she has a good sense of self, and hangs out with friends who are supportive of her."
And the one day out a week at the gifted programme "goes that little bit further", which Bronnie needs.
"She has such a love of learning and we want to encourage that."
There was the television show-style Amazing Race event, in which the kids used Auckland as a puzzle playground, solving problems to unlock clues which took them ever-closer to the finish line.
The class visited Auckland Airport and flew a flight simulator (the plane did not crash during Bronnie's attempt).
Much of the extra mile is funded by sponsorship, with parents' contributions.
In standard schooling, the funding is restrictive. Also, teachers are dealing with smaller classes - "not dealing with a class of 35 kids".
"I did often worry about Bronnie being unsatisfied at school," says Sheena Symons.
"I worried that teachers would let her achieve [on her own] and leave her to one side because she was easy."
For Symons, the evolution of Bronnie as a "gifted" kid is a joy any parent would recognise.
"I always said to her, 'When you grow up you can be anything you want to be'. And because she is so smart, she really can be."
YOUNG HIGH FLYERS
* Anna Paquin, of Wellington, won the Academy Award for Best Supporting actress when she was 11. Paquin has gone on to Hollywood stardom, with leading parts in the highly successful X-Men franchise, and roles in films which have enjoyed critical, if not financial, acclaim.
* Sufiah Yusof ran from her studies at Oxford University in 2000 at the age of 15. She had just completed third-year exams. When she came out of hiding, Sufiah said her parents had placed too much pressure on her to succeed. Her studies remain incomplete, and she now works as an administrative assistant for a construction firm.
* Bobby Fischer became a household name when he beat Boris Spassky, the Soviet world champion, at the height of the Cold War. The world's youngest grandmaster was 15.
* Ruth Lawrence won her first-class maths degree from Oxford, graduating at the age of 13 in 1985. She is now a maths professor in Israel.
* Vanessa-Mae, right, is one of the world's most recognisable musical talents - mainly because of her youth. She began playing the violin at the age of 5 and became internationally famous as a teenager.
