Ending Kindergarten Gifted & Talented Screenings Is Right—But It’s a Superficial Political Fix for a Complicated Pedagogical Problem
Over the last few weeks, I’ve received numerous emails and calls from across the country asking for my professional opinion on one of New York City’s mayoral candidates’ promises to eliminate the NYCDOE’s Gifted & Talented (G&T) program—starting with kindergarten.
I can’t think of another question I’ve been asked in recent years that has produced more shocked reactions to my answer. I suppose people assumed, based on what they believe about my educational philosophy—or perhaps what they’ve read in media coverage like The New York Times’ “Scores Count” article or the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) journal piece on how my elementary and middle school students passed New York State high school math and science Regents exams. Folks can’t imagine that I would strongly oppose eliminating early G&T screenings.
It’s true that I’ve always advocated for the good educational purposes of standardized exams—as tools to strengthen students’ conceptual, competitive, and performance skills based on learning standards, and as instruments to inform instruction. But I’ve also been a consistent opponent of bad, and sometimes downright deleterious, assessment tools, especially those that confirm and perpetuate unfair advantages.
And this is the place where I usually get into trouble: I will always call out the hypocrisy of public education systems and elected officials. NYC’s Specialized High Schools Admissions Test (SHSAT), is just as educationally and morally problematic as the kindergarten G&T screening test, largely because it measures the quality of a student’s exposure to consistent, high-quality instruction year after year, something over which a child has absolutely no control.
When I earned my Master’s in Supervision and Administration from Bank Street College, I occasionally observed classes at the Bank Street School (the alma mater of one of the mayoral candidates). I spoke with administrators, teachers, and students. The Bank Street School’s entire educational program could, in many ways, be considered a G&T-based pedagogy. Its methodologies, rooted in Deweyan progressive education, emphasized critical thinking, problem-posing, and problem-solving skills. And yes, the staff also helped students build strong conceptual and technical test-taking skills. Their approach was designed to draw out each child’s inherent gifts and talents while preparing them to perform well on standardized assessments like the SHSAT.
My position, as some have miscategorized, is not about loving standardized exams, but as the old Brooklyn saying goes, my position is simple: “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” And if these are the “gate-keeping” rules of the game, then let’s help the children of disenfranchisement master them.
“Change the joke and slip the yoke.” —Ralph Ellison
I have spent my professional life warning Black and Latino parents, while actively empowering their children educationally, about the twin dangers of liberal paternalism and conservative degradation. They sound and act differently, yet both lead us through endless cycles of centralization and decentralization, one failed and very expensive “closing-the-gap” initiative after another, and still these public-school systems continue to fail the same majority cohort of Black and Brown students.
This current gifted-and-talented debate (one of many over the years) will be no different, because elected officials either lack the knowledge or the will to create public schools where every child, regardless of the school they attend, receives the high-quality education they deserve. Anything less is campaign-commercial talk.
Even if a mayor and their chancellor abolished every K–8 G&T program in the city, the political elephant in the room remains: learning quality inequity would simply reorganize itself by zip code and schools. Some children would still receive G&T-level experiences, while others—trapped in the wrong zip codes and schools—would continue receiving an inferior education.
So let’s explore the educational, developmental, psychological, and social variables that distort or invalidate any attempt to administer or interpret a kindergarten G&T admissions exam accurately. And let’s also examine where both the “ban it” and “keep it” camps fall pedagogically and courageously short; for neither addresses how to effectively support children entering kindergarten who arrive at vastly different points along the pre-kindergarten learning spectrum—regardless of race or ethnicity.
The real question is: how do we design ethical early childhood education screenings, not for exclusionary labeling, but to guide instructional models that embraces “multiple intelligences” and adopts a more male-child-friendly, sound-developmental approach to early childhood teaching and learning?
High-Stakes Admission Testing for Four- and Five-Year-Olds—What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Well, everything.
The Ethical Flaws: Human Developmental and Racially Prejudicial Problems
Applying a high-stakes admissions exam to 4- or 5-year-olds presumes that “giftedness” is fixed at birth—and therefore measurable at that very early stage of human development. Worse, it assumes that giftedness is not equally distributed among the “being born” population. This idea, even if put forward by an atheist assumes that God is favoring some children to be giftedly great in this world and others to be something less-than-great. Or, that nature (for those atheistically inclined), in a random casino-gambling way, somehow placed “giftedness” in the heads of a select group of babies whose parents just happen to be mostly white, wealthy, and well-educated.
Both positions are morally and scientifically indefensible. Children at this age are in a state of rapid and constant neurodevelopmental fluctuation—their attention spans vary widely depending on external stimuli, the language of adults, emotional responses, and their willingness to please authority figures. Their test performance can swing unpredictably based on comfort with the examiner, prior exposure to testing, or even what they ate that morning. These variables are profoundly shaped by home environment, nutrition, access to enrichment, and socio-economic conditions—not by innate “giftedness.”
And let’s be honest: if high school principals like me have trouble convincing some teenagers, especially boys, to treat high-stakes exams as life-changing events, what hope do we have of convincing 4- or 5-year-olds? (Full-disclosure) When my own daughter took the G&T test, we didn’t even tell her what it was. We made up a story about why a friendly stranger wanted to ask her questions. Fortunately, she was a confident graduate of Brooklyn’s Little Sun People preschool, where she had spent years engaging with adults who weren’t her parents and learning in a rich, kindergarten-like environment. On test day, she went into full “please-the-adults” performance mode.
The truth, which educators know but rarely tell the public (perhaps out of fear of further lowering public confidence), is that despite the great work of developmental psychologists like Bruner, Vygotsky, and Piaget, there is still much about the brain and mind we do not know—certainly not enough to justify excluding children from future opportunities at such an early formative age.
What if the G&T exam is not measuring giftedness at all—but rather, a child’s unearned access to “parent-pushing power,” privileged affluence, early literacy exposure, and parental educational attainment? If so, this exam is not assessing brilliance—it’s auditing privilege, parental personalities and family priorities.
As a 40+ year public educator, I’ve quietly observed how veteran teachers, often unconsciously, change their tone and demeanor when two well-educated, well-spoken Black or Latino parents walk into the room. Professional educators, including test administrators, are human. My daughter’s charm, vocabulary, and background won the day—but the truth is her environment gave her enormous advantages: nightly reading, exposure to museums, modern ballet classes, a home library, and an academically rich preschool experience. Meanwhile, countless other children—whose parents, for reasons of work, awareness, or distrust, did not even bring them for G&T testing—were automatically excluded from consideration.
How About This: Let Professional Educators Make Educational Decisions
And finally, the primary reason this critical early childhood decision should be taken out of the hands of all politicians, regardless of party or ideology, and placed in the not-seeking-votes hands of dedicated professional educators. Public education fails large segments of families not because parents don’t care or because children lack ability, but because a high-quality educational product is not equally distributed across the system.
In schools like Bank Street, Stuyvesant, and Bronx Science, there is zero tolerance for instructional incompetence. The open secret of public education is that in too many schools, often those serving our poorest students, there is too much teacher turnover, too many inexperienced teachers for school administrators to coach effectively, and not enough of a critical mass of veteran, very-good to mastery-level teachers capable of sustaining high levels of instructional excellence, that matches high expectations of student capabilities.
And those “very good to mastery-level” teachers, and their school leaders, must operate from what I call, a place of Essential Efficacy: the conviction that educators bear full responsibility for a child’s success, independent of the student’s socio-economic status, language background, or parental influence.
Many of us who led high-performing Title I schools achieved this by becoming Entrepreneurial Principals (see Report from the Principal’s Office, pp. 556–564), closing the resource gap by raising huge amounts of additional funds and building high-efficacy instructional cultures. But more importantly, we succeeded because we, and our staff, believed—deeply—that all children arrive in this world with a unique set of skills and talents, and that it is the sacred duty of professional educators to find and draw out those gifts.
So yes, ending kindergarten G&T testing is the right decision—but for the wrong reasons and in the wrong way. It’s an easy political-rhetorical win, but a meaningless gesture that doesn’t address the deeper disease of educational quality inequity.
And, until we build a system that cultivates every child’s potential with the same fervor, we now reserve for labeling a few as “gifted,” we will keep playing the same mis/under educated rigged game.
The goal isn’t to find the gifted, it’s to bravely grow the gifts inherently existing in all of our students.
