"As it turns out, gifted kids, defined as "high potential learners," can have heightened awareness and anxiety, according to the National Association for Gifted Children. Our son fit the bill. (He has worried about the meaning of life since he was two years old. Seriously."

I was far from a gifted child. My first day of kindergarten, my mom dressed me up in a like a minature businessman, equipped with a small brief case, thermos, lunch box, and a rain coat. (Mom, I love you to pieces, and look back with loving memories. Sorry guys had to say this.)

Back to kindergarten. I walked into that class room, looked at Miss Palmer. Looked at the other children running around, and made a beehive to the little wooden play house on the back of the room. I looked out of 6" X 6" window, and my body tensed up, and I didn't want to leave that playhouse. I opened my lunch case and started to drink my milk. My mother loving put ice cubes in an cleaned, recycled peanut butter jar. I drank my milk, and came out of that playhouse, with the iron fist of Miss Palmer. "Get out of there, or I'll pull you out by your arm!"

I went to my seat, and hated the whole thing. I enjoyed the other kids, but the adults at that school terrified me. I'm still leary of adults, and I'm an adult. Crazy?

I remember being a nervous child. My school just made my anxieties worse.

My biggest fear was twice a month, the children would have to go up to a big wooden calender, and put the date place card in the right spot. When it was my turn, I knew the date, but when I was up on that counter, and everyone was looking at me--I froze, and couldn't remember anything. I would take that placard and move it around the board, like it was a Ouigi board. Even the kids would take pity on me. They would yell, "To the right. Over there. Down. Up.". After thirty one tries, I would finally complete the task. In order to help me, Miss Palmer decided I would put the date up 2-3 times a week--so I would get better. Well, I never got better.

I was so terrified of public speaking, or anyone watching me do anything, I literally would ask my college professors, "Do you require any public speaking in your class?". I got through college with only one sweaty, public speach. It's possible, with a lot of planning.

As a child, I had a hard time learning. I can still see the concern on my father's face when he was trying to teach me the numbers on the big black rotary phone. I had some kind of learning disability? I just couldn't learn the things the adults wanted me to learn. I just wanted to be outside playing, and running around.

Even-though, I was not gifted, I do remember the worst day of my life. I was five, or six? My parents were out, and I was alone in the house. (Just for a little while. I could go to Donna's house if I needed anything.). I was jumping on my parents bed. I got tired. I layed down. At that moment, I realized my parents might die one day. I cried, and cried. I cried for hours, or at least it seemed like hours. That was the beginning of my fear of death. It went from my parents, to my own eventually demise.

My parents arrived, and I never took them for granted again. I hugged them more. I grew up fearing for their safety. In Boy Scouts, I didn't want them to go to the Jamboree; afraid they might get hurt. After all, these log contraptions were put together by crazy adults, and stupid kids.

Back to my learning disability. I finally overcame it in second grade. I just started to learn? I did really well up until high school. With every pore on my face, and back clogged; the only thing I really cared about was girls, sports, (actually nothing formal. Just knock down basketball games), and socializing. It wasen't until my last year I got serious about school, but it was too late. I did make up eveverything I missed in high school in two semesters at a community college, and went on to get a four year degree, and a year of graduate school.

So if you have a kid who's doing terrible in school, things do get better. If you have a nervous, anxious kid, especially if that kid is the first born; I was just about to give advise, but realized there's no advice. You don't want to coddle them? You don't want to fix all their anxieties?
In my case, I just got better.

I became a high functioning, educated adult. I felt like I could do anything, and was pretty successful.

I then had a nervous breakdown over--life? I really don't know what made me bust a gasket. I got better from the breakdown, but I'm not a good as before. I am still hanging on though, and not depressed. I just need to make more money. The breakdown had no affect on my learning abilities, or interests. I'm just not the same dude. I sometimes wonder if I would want to go back to my old self. I honestly don't know.

Good luck with your kids, and hug them. Hug, or call your parents. I need to get in touch with my brother, and sister, but we had a huge falling out over a family matter. Yes, it was money, and it was ugly. I just can't forgive them yet.

(Brother--if you are listening--I understand what you did. You needed the money, and you had a kid on the way. I kinda get what you did. As to my sister--you alwready had a multi million dollar shoe business. Two houses. Vacation home in the desert, with a yurt in the backyard. New cars. Health insurance. Good wine. Restaurant meals. I will never understand why you took all the money. I have thought about it over the years, and I just don't get it. You know your mother needed the money? I'm still helping out mom because she can't afford anything. And, you knew I needed the money? You took that expensive sports car, and let your oldest boy drive it around town, like it was a commuter car? I kills me on so many levels, and it will be stolen. Yea, dad was an angry man, but you didn't need to capitalize on a bad situation? Maybe, one day, I can forgive?"

Sorry people--this went to therapy too quick. I know this is not the place. Won't do it again.