Ja. I was identified labeled just that at the age of five. I remained in the G&T program for the rest of my education, attended a small public high school geared towards Math & Science, and now attend Carnegie Mellon University.
Up until High School I was very isolated, sometimes ridiculed by other kids. I was one of the kids who related better to adults and older kids. Hell, some of my closest friends are still more than a decade older than I am.
I am still completely socially awkward and haven’t mastered normal human interaction though. It’s something I regret most every day. It is in fact my single biggest regret in life, not being able to converse freely and normally. I still don’t understand small talk and simple conversation. I didn’t understand it so much and was so unable to relate to kids my age that I didn’t speak to other kids, or at all unless it was required, until I was about nine. I spoke to my family, adults, and my cats just fine.
As most of us are, I am my own worst critic. I do think the label and the expectation of a different caliber of performance definitely helped to reinforce feelings of inadequacy though. I beat myself up (and continue to do so) over all the smallest perceived errors or deficiencies. So much so that I’d refuse to turn in homework in middle and high school if it were not 100% and perfectly complete. Let me tell you, acing tests does not balance that out. I never received above a C in a math class despite being the top performer and student with most understanding in the majority of those classes. I’m still pretty insecure when it comes to things related to the concept of intelligence.
And oh god, being an angsty teenager was extra unpleasant. Angst because I wasn’t brilliant, angst because I wasn’t ignorant and blissful, angst because I was angsty, angst because others couldn’t have the same opportunities, etc. I think my angst was actually several children’s worth because I tried to angst from so many different angles. And then got upset at myself for being so utterly ridiculous in all cases.
Still, having TA’d in “regular classes” and been misplaced into them accidentally for the first few days a few different times, I’d definitely choose being labeled (at least in California’s Long Beach Unified School District,) all over again, along with all the isolation and stigma that comes with it, because it lifted me out of the hellhole that was the “normal track.” Those classes were boring, the teachers were despicable and hateful, and the kids were either incredibly dumb (which I maintain is generally because of circumstances, not natural ability,) or severely under-challenged and thus bored and unmotivated without an outlet for their frustration.
I know some (many, in fact, if not most. Especially the biggest trouble-makers) of the “regular” kids were equally bright, but they slipped through the system and had their love of learning beaten out of them. Seeing a kid’s spark so dim at such a young age is incredibly heart breaking. I stopped volunteering as a teacher’s assistant after a while.
Labeling is just not good. The G&T programs are good for some things. It’s excellent to be challenged and do something the school system regards as more worthwhile/interesting/higher-level, depending on the program there are more people one in such a position can relate to, but I think the idea of differences is mostly negative.
Bright kids in “regular” tracks end up feeling dumb, harboring resentment for the system, and being hindered by their situation. Actually average or dumb kids who make it into the “G&T” programs end up thinking too much of themselves and get broken by failure. Indeed, most of the brightest of us DO NOT SUCCEED in school. For many there’s a disconnect between work ethic and intelligence (if it comes easily and you don’t have to work at it, you just don’t develop that skill set,) and for some the system just doesn’t mesh well with their mode of operation and production.
There’s also altogether too much competition in such a divided system, when learning should be self-motivated, individually appropriate, and inclusive of collaboration and support amongst peers. I hated the antagonism within and without the G&T programs. That element didn’t exist in my high school, but six years worth was more than enough. It exists within the University setting too, although there are safe-havens.
Ultimately, I think it’s a failure at the root of the educational structure. (@knitfroggy) My roommate recently introduced me to the idea of the Montessori approach to education, and damn do I wish it had been adopted as the public model.