no wonder kids after 25
the potential gap
Miss Syeda, why wasn’t I chosen for the Gifted and Talented Programme in Year 10?
I need an answer. There’s no way I didn’t make the cut. In the words of Isiah Thomas, “I met the criteria to be selected, but I wasn't.”
Who remembers the kids who got to leave last period 15 minutes early because they were in the school football team? Or those who got special attention from English teachers because they were on their way to becoming great authors, journalists and writers?
There was something about those who were gifted (or seen as gifted) from a young age—the Mozarts of our generation. The future was bright for them. The only way was up. And I wanted that. I yearned for it.
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Sadly, I wasn’t a child prodigy. I didn’t grow up knowing if I would blow in the arts, academics or athletics. Apart from a last-minute sprint to top-set Maths in time for GCSEs, I would say I was alright in school. Solid Bs, with the occasional A or C for good measure. For those who class that as above average, please look at the complexion of my parents and then make the same assessment.
Being young with a gift is heavy. It comes with expectation and responsibility at such a tender age. Your parents’ dreams and aspirations often get warped into becoming your own. Then 10 years down the line, you deliver the typical Disney movie line in an argument with one of your parents, shouting, “This was never my dream Dad, this was yours!”
Living up to your childhood dreams is hard. But it materialises in many ways:
“I used to read a book a day but now I struggle to get through X amount in a year”
“Where did the hunger and drive that I had in secondary school/sixth form go” (I know you Brampton Manor kids can relate to that)
“If only I took X seriously growing up, I could have been Y by now”
When you reach your mid-twenties, no one looks at you like you have “potential” anymore. There’s no more talk of “wonder kids”, prodigies or future prospects. All these schemes to train people end at 25. You’re no longer a bundle of hopes and dreams waiting to flourish and blossom. No one is hopeful anymore, everyone is expectant.
There are no more Gifted and Talented programmes. There are only Gifted and Talented people. And one day you wake up and realise maybe your time has passed. Maybe the ship has sailed. Maybe you have passed your prime.
This is what I like to call the potential gap
The great chasm between the you that you were on track to be and the you that got lost in the pursuit of it all. In between the late nights at your corporate desk to finish off reports. In between the mysterious knee injuries and unfinished rehab sessions. In between the bouts of procrastination and the great evil that is life itself.
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So many people are tied down to the version of them that died many moons ago
To the you that everyone expected would be birthed from hours of piano lessons. To the you that missed events and occasions due to training, practices and 1-1 coaching sessions. To the you that never really lived up to their full potential.
Sometimes, I reminisce about the person I thought I would be by now. But the truth is that person is dead. He doesn’t exist. Not to say I still can’t be everything I thought I would be, but as of right now, I’m not him. So, I could either mourn the person I once was or celebrate the person I will be.
Die to your potential.
You grow up being adventurous and optimistic, and then the realities of life and the responsibilities it brings weigh you down. What I call the "responsibility-reasonability dilemma". Trying to find the balance between what you’ve always wanted to do and what you currently have to do. No one ever talks about how many obstacles we encounter on our journey to reaching our potential.
Amid this dilemma, we find understanding and empathy. It’s where you forgive yourself for the lack of advancement on intended goals and outcomes you have long dreamed of. In this space, you understand that if you knew all that would happen in the years that were to follow, you would be a bit more gracious to you.
As I Grow Older, I understand that 15-year-old me doesn’t speak for 25-year-old me.
If I was to sit in a room with younger me and they asked, “Abs, why aren’t you a journalist, footballer or politician by now?” I would tell him to shut up and focus on getting better than a C in Mrs Madzeba’s Science class.
Because, at the time, that was the only thing fighting my potential. Now, as we can all probably attest, adulthood is a constant battle to even make it out of the door in the morning in one piece. Every day is another struggle and fight. But we make it work.
Potential isn’t a glass ceiling; it’s the stepping stone we use to navigate the rest of our lives. It’s a walking stick, not the cane we use to beat ourselves with.
Love, Peace and Blessings,
Abs
Wonderful read
This is so well written! Keep going