How to Raise a Super Kid

Nothing beats travel if you want your children to know their place in the world.

It ain't a secret. Our DNA determines the uppermost limit of our physical and mental capabilities. A stripling with bones that won't stretch past 170cm isn't going to be drafted by NBL at 16. And, a brute with thighs like marble arches who stares blankly at the IQ test paper in his paw won't be unravelling the theoretical spiderwebs of Isaac Newton or Stephen Hawking at Cambridge.

A child is who he is and if the fizz isn't there, it doesn't matter how much cash you throw at the private school, at the private sports tutors or how many Tony Robbins motivational CDs they listen to while they sleep. Conversely, a truly brilliant child will ultimately shine as long as they are given the most basic ingredients of nutrition, kindness, sunlight and education – just set and forget.

But, what about an average kid? The kind most of us bring into the world?

What kind of difference can an engaged parent make?

For the past 10 years I've watched Jenny, a single mum I know with limited financial means and no particular academic brilliance, take two ordinary twin girls, one dyslexic, and turn them into empathetic, ultra-high achievers (in sport and at school) headed for post-university careers as a diplomat and an international policy maker in women's health.

I wanted to know Jenny's secrets to raising a super kid, someone who is not just able to smoke a test or swim like a fish, but who is a compassionate soul filled with a sense of the world and their place as human beings among it.

Yesterday afternoon when I visited their homely, and slightly chaotic, semi in Sydney's eastern suburbs, they’d just returned from travelling in China and France. The twins, now 18 and in their first year of university, had saved their babysitting money for their own airfares; Jenny had scraped together the money she earned as a casual primary school teacher. Jenny didn’t think she did anything out of the ordinary with her kids, but the results suggest otherwise.

Be involved and enthusiastic. "Be prepared to give up a huge amount of your time. Take your kids to a massive range of different activities so they can find out what they’re good at. And then stick with it," says Jenny, who adds that she never had to push the twins to continue with anything. "Her enthusiasm for whatever we did excited us and kept us motivated," says one. Being involved also means not letting teachers or coaches let the air out of their balloons. At the dyslexic twin's high school, she was told not to overshoot in year 12, to aim in the 80s, tops. Jenny pushed for exam concessions (special lighting, drink breaks), going as far as the minister for education when the school brushed off her requests, and her daughter rolled out a 97.6, top three in the school, and winner of a NSW Premier’s award.

Let go. "You have to let your kid be who they are. If they've got an interest in something kooky, just go with it. One of my daughters became massively into frogs. I used to take her to the freaking frog and tadpole meetings at the museum every Friday. It was like hell on earth for me. But, she was interested in frogs. You can't turn an artist into a financier and vice-versa."

See the big picture. "The world won't end if an assignment is late, homework is incomplete or if they miss a day at school." The twins went travelling during what is regarded as the crucial first few weeks of year 12. The dyslexic twin nailed it; the other claimed a near-perfect 99.7.

Set achievable goals. "A five-year-old saying they'll be world champion at something isn't an immediately achievable goal. But, tying his shoelaces? Reading his first real book?"

So far, so obvious. But exam results are one part of the puzzle and rote learning doesn't a super kid make. How, therefore, do we raise children who will make a difference, whose edges have been softened by experience?

Here's something. Earlier this year, Jenny and the twins spent seven weeks in Cambodia, Laos and Burma volunteering as English teachers. In their travels they met a deaf mute living on the banks of the Mekong River who reads and write in perfect English and French. The twins found a small boy in rural Cambodia with cerebral palsy laying on a mat. They brought the boy a wheelchair and were soon pushing him to class every day, the kid turning the pages of his textbook with his tongue. The girls saw deprivation in Laos orphanages eased by the inspiring volunteer work of anonymous Australian and American volunteers.

At their hotel in Phnom Penh, they noticed three beautiful twenty-something women sunbathing by the pool. Tourists?

As curious kids, they got talking and found out one worked as a lawyer for the UN on the continuing trials of the Pol Pot regime while the other two worked on policy direction in women's health.

The effect on the twins was immediate. One contacted her university that day via Skype to change her preferences so she could create a path where she might work, one day, on policy direction in Third World countries.

"I’ve spent all of my money on travelling," says Jenny. "Not on clothes, not on appearance, not on consumables that are gone in the blink of an eye. Above everything, children have to learn about the world and about the essential sameness of human beings. An average Australian child can achieve anything if they're made to comprehend their advantages and relative wealth."