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But are prodigies born different, gifted by genetic accident to be mentally more efficient? Or is the management of mental resources something that can be developed? Scientists aren't sure. Studies have shown that raw intelligence, as measured through IQ tests, is highly (though not completely) inheritable. But the connection between high intelligence and prodigious behavior is far from absolute. So-called idiot savants, for example, show unusual mastery of specific skills—they could even be described as prodigies were it not for their overall low intelligence. And many very creative children don't necessarily register high IQs because they don't test well on standardized exams, says McCann, the education specialist at Flinders University. Creative kids "are looking for different ways to answer the questions," she says. "They're looking for the trick questions."
With only sketchy evidence to rely on, researchers and other experts continue to debate the age-old "nature vs. nurture" question. "There is no inborn talent for music ability," Shinichi Suzuki, creator of the Suzuki Method of training young musicians, once declared. Even those who believe certain talents are innate agree that a child's upbringing has a big impact on whether a gift is developed or squashed. "Prodigies are half born, half made and mostly discovered at an early age," says Wu Wu-tien, dean of the College of Education at the National Taiwan Normal University. The role adopted by parents is vital. According to psychologist Winner's research, the parents of gifted kids provide stimulating environments: their homes are often full of books; they read to their children at an early age; they take them on trips to museums and concerts. They do not talk down to their children, and they allow them a high degree of independence. And if their child shows talent, they will pull out all the stops to make sure it is encouraged.
Sometimes, that encouragement can go to damaging extremes. It is often assumed that behind every prodigy is a demanding parent: the father who drives a son to succeed where he himself had failed, the mother who feeds greedily off the publicity a daughter's talents inspire. In other words, parents who "love their children's achievements more than their children," as Winner puts it. Mathematician Norbert Wiener, who earned a Harvard doctorate at 18 and later invented cybernetics, had recalled how his otherwise gentle father became a tyrannical "avenger of the blood" whenever Wiener made a mistake in his calculations. More recent is the case of Sufiah Yusof. Born in England to a Pakistani-born father and a Malaysian mother, Yusof was home-schooled by her ambitious parents and gained a university place to read mathematics at St. Hilda's College, Oxford at age 13. But just after she sat her third-year master's exams, she disappeared. Her father feared she had been abducted. But then an e-mail arrived from his missing daughter. In it, Yusof wrote that her parents had made her life a "living hell." She accused them of "15 years of physical and emotional abuse," including long study sessions in a house kept icy cold supposedly to improve her concentration. Yusof, who also wrote that she never wants to see her "controlling and bullying" father again, is now in the final year of her degree.
Despite sensational examples of smart kids driven to their breaking point, McCann maintains that the stereotypical pushy parent is "a bit of myth." Parents don't push prodigies, prodigies push parents, she says. Ask R. Subramanian, a chartered accountant from India's southern state of Tamil Nadu, whose son Chandra Sekar began operating the family PC on the sly at age 6, to his father's consternation. "Initially I was worried about Sekar getting electric shocks," he recalls. Very rapidly, however, the boy was displaying an uncommon flair for programming. "He used to surprise me by exploring the software and coming up with any number of shortcuts." His father hired a computer tutor to help him develop his interest.
No challenge seemed too daunting for the youngster. When Sekar read that a 17-year-old American had become the world's youngest Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer (MCSE), he became determined to beat that record. "At first, neither his coach nor I believed that the boy was setting a realistic target," says Subramanian. "We worried it was too much, but the kid was adamant." After six months of coaching, in 2000 he sat the MCSE tests and passed—at age 10.
Now 12, Sekar is enrolled as an undergraduate at the Anna University in Madras, which bent its rules to admit him. (He also has to stand on a box to conduct classroom experiments.) "I like cricket and football," he grins. "I am just like any other kid of my age." Hardly. Next year Sekar will join an lite group of government scientists to help devise hacker-proof security systems for India's computer networks.
Because they are so obviously different, some prodigies are unable to live a normal childhood. Eric Lo Shih-kai, a 13-year-old Taiwanese golfer who last November became the youngest person ever to play in a PGA European Tour event, spends most of his energy on the links practicing his game when he is not in school. His day starts at 7 a.m., when he jogs at a park near his home in Loutung then practices approach shots until it is time for school. After classes let out at 4 p.m., he heads to the course, where he spends the next five or six hours on drills—sometimes driving 300 golf balls in a session—before finally heading home for bed. "The golf course has been like a day-care center to Eric," says his father and coach, Tony Lo Chi-tung, a 51-year-old retired bus driver. "There is nothing else in his life." But the teenager, who plans on turning pro by the time he is 17 or 18, says he doesn't mind. "I'm not like my normal classmates, who only think about having fun without worrying about the future," he says. "I prefer to be hardworking at a young age. I'll enjoy myself when my efforts pay off later."