So you've got that being "gifted" has been wrapped up in my identity since elementary school, right? And that, deep in my subconscious, I am always thinking about being the best, because I was taught that was the most important thing? Well, anyways, it apparently is a lot more deep rooted in my conscious mind that I thought.
I am anxiety ridden. Some of it is caused by stress about things I can't control, but most of it just seems to happen for no reason. Many times I can fret about things that have no chance of happening. I have honestly fallen asleep worrying about what would I'd actually do in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. (Answer: lawn equipment and acid-filled water guns.)
One new development in my anxiety is fairly recent. In the past few months, I have actually had physical anxiety reactions to being asked questions when I'm not sure of the answer.
Knowing the answer has always just been something that defines me. Not only do I seem to have academic answers, but my friends always come to me for advice. Even relationship advice, which was funny since it took me seventeen years to go on a date.
Anyways, it wasn't until college until I realized I had a pretty huge fear of not knowing the answer. But it wasn't just that. It was that I was scared of being judged about not knowing. I have always been confident in my knowledge. But when I got to college and suddenly it wasn't there when I needed it, I didn't know what to do.
The first time I had a reaction to it was last October. I was sitting at a presentation about drugs held in my dorm building featuring a campus policeman and a professor of pharmacology. Somebody asked a question and I thought I knew the answer so I answered. And I felt confident that I was right until I realized the professor was watching me. And I had a tiny little freak out.
I started stumbling over my words, which, if you know me, never happens. But it did. I sort of stopped mid-sentence, my voice fading until nothing came out. I had small, frantic gestures to the professor to correct me. He laughed a bit and finished the answer, but it didn't matter. My ears burned and I couldn't make eye contact (another thing that I never have trouble with).
A few weeks later, it happened again. This time, it was in Taekwondo class. My instructor asked why we start certain kicks from back stance. Again, I started off confident and ended up shaking my head and breathing hard. But this time was slightly different. It wasn't just that he was watching and that I knew he knew the answer. It was that he wasn't giving me any kind of sign that I was even on the right track.
This is another thing I haven't quite gotten control over, but I do know that it has made the little voice in my head shut up a bit. Things like worrying about body image ( which I don't do much of anyway), or what people think of me when they don't know me stopped bothering as much. But they haven't stopped all together. My anxiety still sits in my head and whispers things into my ear when I try to fall asleep.
But there's another voice in my head that helps me stop the stupid one. It's called "My Wise Woman".
Some might call it my "conscious" or "the Holy Spirit", but my mom calls it the Wise Woman, so I call it that. It's the little voice that reminds me what the right thing to do, say, think, etc., is. I imagine a very strong super heroine who has one foot on the chest of a criminal, bruised and bleeding on the floor.
Unfortunately, sometime the criminal gets up and runs around. It takes a while for the Wise Woman to catch him again, and in that time, he runs amok, spouting lies. But she catches him. I just hope that someday, she might lock him up for good.
MORAL OF THE STORY: anxiety sucks, and I am still trying to figure out how to combat it.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Friday, January 17, 2014
"I Wasn't Told This Before College" #3: If You Got Grit, Flaunt It
HEREIN LIES THE BEST LESSON A FORMER GIFTED KID CAN LEARN AND TEACH
In the two years preceding college, I worked as an "Instructional Assistant" at a branch of the Kumon Math and Reading centers. "Instructional Assistant" being a fancy word for "tutor", I spent three afternoons a week teaching kids age 3-18 math, checking on stocks of worksheets, and convincing children that I had the power to tell Santa if they didn't do their math homework.
Shortly before getting a job there, I was required to do a summer assignment for my AP Psychology class. The subject matter involved watching a video on Angela Duckworth's "Grit Versus Intelligence". (This is the shorter version. The original is twenty minutes long.)
Basically, she said that intelligence isn't enough. You've got to be able to work hard if you want to do well both academically and in the real world. Her term for that is "grit".
That kind of totally messed up everything I knew in my life of being a "gifted kid".
She described her experiment in which she gave a group of kids a simple math test. Half of the kids were told " you must be so smart," when they completed it, and the other half were told "you must have worked so hard." When given a slightly harder test, the children told "you must be so smart" shut down when they couldn't figure something out, whereas the kids who were told "you must have worked so hard" were able to, well, work hard and solve the harder questions.
I remember immediately texting my mom and verifying if that had ever happened to me when I was younger. She said not only did it happen, but it happened a lot.
THAT is the worst part of being labeled a "gifted kid". Our identity, especially as an elementary aged child, is so wrapped up on being "smart". And because we are "smart", we just seem to know everything. No one ever feels the need to teach us how to work hard. I intended on changing that in both myself and in others. And I ended up with the perfect opportunity.
The concept of "grit" was still bouncing around my head when I got the job at Kumon, and I immediately recognized the problem in some of the kids I worked with.
Kumon has it's own way of teaching. Students are required to do a packet of Kumon specific work when they come to the center, and take a packet for each day they are not at the center. Many students use it as a way to relearn the basics in order to succeed in higher levels, but some use it to keep themselves challenged outside of school.
A few late elementary/ early middle schools students were stuck. A few levels ahead of the ones typical for their grade level, they kept repeating the same worksheets over and over again because they didn't know how to do it. But it wasn't just that they didn't know. It's that they didn't try.
I'll admit it (thought it was never a secret) that I was never completely on board with the "one way to teach them all/ one-way-of-mind them/ one way to bring them all/ and in mathematics bind them" way of thinking. It had never worked well for me, so I determined it probably didn't work well for them.
Quietly, I started to teach them outside of the typical parameters, and praised them with "you must work so hard." There was immediately a change. They were more interested in working (well, kind of), and their grades began to improve. Suddenly, they weren't just scrawling down any old number. Instead, they actually wrote out their work (!) and slowly but surely moved on in levels. It was so cool to watch them learn how to work. Even if they did diss The Lion King. I don't know what's the motto with them. (If you don't get that line, I'm revoking your Disney fan card.)
"Grit" is something I haven't mastered completely yet. Though I now know that one should never attempt to college without knowing how to work, I am starting to get the hang of it. I showed "grit" when training for marching band tryouts, and even though I didn't make it, I proved to myself, my brother-in-law who helped me train, and the rest of my family and friends that if I want it enough, I can do work for it.
College is teaching me that more and more every day. Obviously since I'm here, I want to do well, get my degree, get into grad school, etc., and I am willing to work hard to do that, but it's tough. "Gifted kids" rarely know how to study or work hard because we never have to. College rips off the label of "token smart kid" and tosses us into a whole world of General Chemistry I's and Spanish III's where we actually have to do a lot of work to even get the minimum of a passing grade.
A chem professor who came to my dorm to talk about studying said that for every credit hour a class is worth, you should be doing three times that in hours per week to average a C. That seems like a lot if you consider a 5 credit class, but it's worth it. Be "gritty" because doing the dirty work will get you a lot farther than knowing what challenge with a reporter Calvin Coolidge won.
MORAL OF THE STORY: work hard because it'll get you a lot more out of life than knowing that Calvin Coolidge, notorious for not saying much, was told by a reporter that she could get him to say more than two words during a party at the White House. He replied with the words "you lose", his only words all night.
In the two years preceding college, I worked as an "Instructional Assistant" at a branch of the Kumon Math and Reading centers. "Instructional Assistant" being a fancy word for "tutor", I spent three afternoons a week teaching kids age 3-18 math, checking on stocks of worksheets, and convincing children that I had the power to tell Santa if they didn't do their math homework.
Shortly before getting a job there, I was required to do a summer assignment for my AP Psychology class. The subject matter involved watching a video on Angela Duckworth's "Grit Versus Intelligence". (This is the shorter version. The original is twenty minutes long.)
Basically, she said that intelligence isn't enough. You've got to be able to work hard if you want to do well both academically and in the real world. Her term for that is "grit".
That kind of totally messed up everything I knew in my life of being a "gifted kid".
She described her experiment in which she gave a group of kids a simple math test. Half of the kids were told " you must be so smart," when they completed it, and the other half were told "you must have worked so hard." When given a slightly harder test, the children told "you must be so smart" shut down when they couldn't figure something out, whereas the kids who were told "you must have worked so hard" were able to, well, work hard and solve the harder questions.
I remember immediately texting my mom and verifying if that had ever happened to me when I was younger. She said not only did it happen, but it happened a lot.
THAT is the worst part of being labeled a "gifted kid". Our identity, especially as an elementary aged child, is so wrapped up on being "smart". And because we are "smart", we just seem to know everything. No one ever feels the need to teach us how to work hard. I intended on changing that in both myself and in others. And I ended up with the perfect opportunity.
The concept of "grit" was still bouncing around my head when I got the job at Kumon, and I immediately recognized the problem in some of the kids I worked with.
Kumon has it's own way of teaching. Students are required to do a packet of Kumon specific work when they come to the center, and take a packet for each day they are not at the center. Many students use it as a way to relearn the basics in order to succeed in higher levels, but some use it to keep themselves challenged outside of school.
A few late elementary/ early middle schools students were stuck. A few levels ahead of the ones typical for their grade level, they kept repeating the same worksheets over and over again because they didn't know how to do it. But it wasn't just that they didn't know. It's that they didn't try.
I'll admit it (thought it was never a secret) that I was never completely on board with the "one way to teach them all/ one-way-of-mind them/ one way to bring them all/ and in mathematics bind them" way of thinking. It had never worked well for me, so I determined it probably didn't work well for them.
Quietly, I started to teach them outside of the typical parameters, and praised them with "you must work so hard." There was immediately a change. They were more interested in working (well, kind of), and their grades began to improve. Suddenly, they weren't just scrawling down any old number. Instead, they actually wrote out their work (!) and slowly but surely moved on in levels. It was so cool to watch them learn how to work. Even if they did diss The Lion King. I don't know what's the motto with them. (If you don't get that line, I'm revoking your Disney fan card.)
"Grit" is something I haven't mastered completely yet. Though I now know that one should never attempt to college without knowing how to work, I am starting to get the hang of it. I showed "grit" when training for marching band tryouts, and even though I didn't make it, I proved to myself, my brother-in-law who helped me train, and the rest of my family and friends that if I want it enough, I can do work for it.
College is teaching me that more and more every day. Obviously since I'm here, I want to do well, get my degree, get into grad school, etc., and I am willing to work hard to do that, but it's tough. "Gifted kids" rarely know how to study or work hard because we never have to. College rips off the label of "token smart kid" and tosses us into a whole world of General Chemistry I's and Spanish III's where we actually have to do a lot of work to even get the minimum of a passing grade.
A chem professor who came to my dorm to talk about studying said that for every credit hour a class is worth, you should be doing three times that in hours per week to average a C. That seems like a lot if you consider a 5 credit class, but it's worth it. Be "gritty" because doing the dirty work will get you a lot farther than knowing what challenge with a reporter Calvin Coolidge won.
MORAL OF THE STORY: work hard because it'll get you a lot more out of life than knowing that Calvin Coolidge, notorious for not saying much, was told by a reporter that she could get him to say more than two words during a party at the White House. He replied with the words "you lose", his only words all night.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
"I Wasn't Told This Before College" #2: If You Love Them, Don't Let Them Go.
Gifted kids are rarely ever adept at social norms. I am lucky in that I am pretty good at making friends (except for college, see "I Wasn't Told This Before College" #1"). But the one social cue I consistently failed at was flirting. Sure, I had crushes in elementary and middle school, but nothing ever happened. We'll, I wasn't allowed to do anything, but still.
Shortly after the beginning of my senior year of high school, an extracurricular jazz ensemble that I was a part of started up again. This was my second year in the ensemble, and this year, though there were two girls this year, 88% of the ensemble was male. I didn't mind. I even joked to my friends that "I had my pick".
The guys were required to wear matching ties.
"You guys should wear bow ties. Because, you know, bow ties are cool? Doctor Who? Anyone?"
All I got out of the joke were raised eyebrows and bemused expressions until...
"Doctor Who?"
A tall skinny tenor sax player perked up across the room. We chatted about the show a bit, and then went our seperate ways.
Looking back, I now realize that he totally pulled off the whole How I Met Your Mother three days rule, because it wasn't until Thursday morning (we met on Sunday) that I heard from him on Facebook. While running late the next day, I gave him my number so we could text, and that was a big deal. I felt (feel) in a way that you have to earn my number.
Anyways, we texted back and forth for a few weeks before he asked me to hang out (which ended up being dinner with his entire immediate family). A few weeks later, we agreed to go see his school's play because he came to see mine. We had dinner, and I found that, even though I didn't know him that well, it was so easy to talk and joke with him. That night, I recieved the best text ever..."do you have an interest in dating me?"
A lot of people at college were surprised when I told them I kept my high school boyfriend. No one had told me otherwise, not my parents, older siblings or anyone else. So why here?
Then I realized what I could become: the girl who only hangs out with her boyfriend. In a way, it did happen because I had no other friends, but it wasn't for the reason some other people have.
As I have mentioned before, he kept me sane. We continued our relationship the way we did last year: meet up on the weekends, attend family gatherings, etc. Incidentally, he was taking a class at my university before school (did I mention he is still in high school?), so we got to see each other briefly before/after class.As I got over fears, made friends, and did a whole lot of self-reflection, I realized something.
If you truly love your significant other, why on Earth would you break up with them just because of college?
Skype, text, call, email, Facebook. There are so many ways to keep in contact with people now via technology. Long-distance can be tough, but if you really love them, you will want to do whatever you can.
Who knows what will happen in the future? Not me. Not him. Not our parents. God knows, but he prefers to show rather than tell.
The future scares me in so many ways, and for so many reasons. But, you know what? I have him now, and now is the gift. That's why they call it the present. (I got that line from Kung Fu Panda. I don't know where it comes from. Sorry.)
Romantic movies say "if you love them, you'll let them go." That might work on the Academy, but it doesn't work on me. If you love them, make it work.
MORAL OF THE STORY: if you love them, make it work because Facetime-ing while you watch TV and he plays Minecraft is a lot better than being alone because other people told you that it wouldn't work.
Shortly after the beginning of my senior year of high school, an extracurricular jazz ensemble that I was a part of started up again. This was my second year in the ensemble, and this year, though there were two girls this year, 88% of the ensemble was male. I didn't mind. I even joked to my friends that "I had my pick".
The guys were required to wear matching ties.
"You guys should wear bow ties. Because, you know, bow ties are cool? Doctor Who? Anyone?"
All I got out of the joke were raised eyebrows and bemused expressions until...
"Doctor Who?"
A tall skinny tenor sax player perked up across the room. We chatted about the show a bit, and then went our seperate ways.
Looking back, I now realize that he totally pulled off the whole How I Met Your Mother three days rule, because it wasn't until Thursday morning (we met on Sunday) that I heard from him on Facebook. While running late the next day, I gave him my number so we could text, and that was a big deal. I felt (feel) in a way that you have to earn my number.
Anyways, we texted back and forth for a few weeks before he asked me to hang out (which ended up being dinner with his entire immediate family). A few weeks later, we agreed to go see his school's play because he came to see mine. We had dinner, and I found that, even though I didn't know him that well, it was so easy to talk and joke with him. That night, I recieved the best text ever..."do you have an interest in dating me?"
A lot of people at college were surprised when I told them I kept my high school boyfriend. No one had told me otherwise, not my parents, older siblings or anyone else. So why here?
Then I realized what I could become: the girl who only hangs out with her boyfriend. In a way, it did happen because I had no other friends, but it wasn't for the reason some other people have.
As I have mentioned before, he kept me sane. We continued our relationship the way we did last year: meet up on the weekends, attend family gatherings, etc. Incidentally, he was taking a class at my university before school (did I mention he is still in high school?), so we got to see each other briefly before/after class.As I got over fears, made friends, and did a whole lot of self-reflection, I realized something.
If you truly love your significant other, why on Earth would you break up with them just because of college?
Skype, text, call, email, Facebook. There are so many ways to keep in contact with people now via technology. Long-distance can be tough, but if you really love them, you will want to do whatever you can.
Who knows what will happen in the future? Not me. Not him. Not our parents. God knows, but he prefers to show rather than tell.
The future scares me in so many ways, and for so many reasons. But, you know what? I have him now, and now is the gift. That's why they call it the present. (I got that line from Kung Fu Panda. I don't know where it comes from. Sorry.)
Romantic movies say "if you love them, you'll let them go." That might work on the Academy, but it doesn't work on me. If you love them, make it work.
MORAL OF THE STORY: if you love them, make it work because Facetime-ing while you watch TV and he plays Minecraft is a lot better than being alone because other people told you that it wouldn't work.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
"I Wasn't Told This Before College" #1: Don't Forget How to Make Friends
In my home school district, we had three middle schools that fed into one big high school. While in middle school, you build teams and comradeship based on your middle school being "better" than the others. And then you get to high school, everyone becomes the Lions (even though all eleven schools in the district have the same mascot that simply ages through the schools).
That being said, I am so grateful for the friends I have. Though most of my group came from different middle schools than me, or even outside the school at all, they are incredibly important to me and the greatest friends that I have ever had. Some might say that you should keep them closer than ever. I tend to agree with that. Others might say that you should let them go and make friends for this new part of life. But most say to keep your older friends very close while still making new friends. That is the best option.
A little back story about me. I am one of the most happy, outgoing, fun loving, optimistic people you will ever meet. I have never ever had any difficulty making friends. But making friends in college actually depressed me. Why? Because I had completely forgotten how to do so.
I now know why I had such a difficult time. I am not a partier. Parties do not interest me unless it is a family party in which there is a guarantee of at least one board game. Drunk people are only funny to a certain point. I can't stand the smell of alcohol. And drugs? I am a Pharmaceutical Science major who intends on becoming a Pharmacologist. The only thing I want do to with drugs is to study their effect on the brain.
But this kind of conversation was all I could find. Everywhere.
Gradually I found a few people who liked what I like, and we would have fun while in class, but never hung out outside of class. By October of my first semester, I actually cried about being lonely. It was horrible. Here I was, never have been without friends or family in my life. And to make matters worse, my grandma, affectionately known as Dahgo, passed away a few days before Halloween.
I was absolutely miserable, with the only things keeping me sane being my mom who I texted constantly, my boyfriend who I basically only saw on weekends, and Netflix. I had nothing to do and no one to do it with. Except chemistry. But I don't want to rant right now. Maybe later.
Until one Saturday night after spending the day with my dad, I realized my mom, sister, aunt, and cousin were all on campus for a women's volleyball game. As I talked with them, and watched a sport I hadn't played in years, I realized that there was something for me to do.
I had not played a sport since before junior year, when I quit softball due to politics issues. I instead took up dance after seven years and performed in a school theatre productions. I had told myself that I wanted to get back into softball for fun when in college, but had missed the deadline for an intermural team because I was still depressed about being cut from my university's (really freaking fantastic) marching band . I had been really close, but hadn't made it, and had to move in to my dorm less than a week after having been cut.
But it was the end of October. I looked at potential spring semester sports, but everything started in March. I need something right that minute. Something I could get involved with. So I started to look through clubs. Some of them are junior varsity-ish teams, and some are actually clubs, and thankfully, the Taekwondo club was an actual club.
That brings me to November, also known as The-Month-That-College-Actually-Started-Getting-Fun-Outside-Of-Class. I attended a meeting of the club, which was actually a class, and after getting over the intial weirdness of being the only non-black belt, it was awesome. I was ready to (and did) pay dues by the second class, even though I had two free.
So that's where I pick up here. Spring semester is already 17.3 times better because I actually have friends that I can have dinner and hang out with who like Broadway and fandom and science. And I could win the award for Most Active Member of the Club Who Has Only Been Here for a Two Months. One of my friends pointed out that out to me today, and I told her I was happy to. It kept me from marathoning television. Well, kind of.
MORAL OF THE STORY: don't forget how to make friends or else you will be miserable for two months until you join a club where you learn how to hit and kick people for fun.
That being said, I am so grateful for the friends I have. Though most of my group came from different middle schools than me, or even outside the school at all, they are incredibly important to me and the greatest friends that I have ever had. Some might say that you should keep them closer than ever. I tend to agree with that. Others might say that you should let them go and make friends for this new part of life. But most say to keep your older friends very close while still making new friends. That is the best option.
A little back story about me. I am one of the most happy, outgoing, fun loving, optimistic people you will ever meet. I have never ever had any difficulty making friends. But making friends in college actually depressed me. Why? Because I had completely forgotten how to do so.
I now know why I had such a difficult time. I am not a partier. Parties do not interest me unless it is a family party in which there is a guarantee of at least one board game. Drunk people are only funny to a certain point. I can't stand the smell of alcohol. And drugs? I am a Pharmaceutical Science major who intends on becoming a Pharmacologist. The only thing I want do to with drugs is to study their effect on the brain.
But this kind of conversation was all I could find. Everywhere.
Gradually I found a few people who liked what I like, and we would have fun while in class, but never hung out outside of class. By October of my first semester, I actually cried about being lonely. It was horrible. Here I was, never have been without friends or family in my life. And to make matters worse, my grandma, affectionately known as Dahgo, passed away a few days before Halloween.
I was absolutely miserable, with the only things keeping me sane being my mom who I texted constantly, my boyfriend who I basically only saw on weekends, and Netflix. I had nothing to do and no one to do it with. Except chemistry. But I don't want to rant right now. Maybe later.
Until one Saturday night after spending the day with my dad, I realized my mom, sister, aunt, and cousin were all on campus for a women's volleyball game. As I talked with them, and watched a sport I hadn't played in years, I realized that there was something for me to do.
I had not played a sport since before junior year, when I quit softball due to politics issues. I instead took up dance after seven years and performed in a school theatre productions. I had told myself that I wanted to get back into softball for fun when in college, but had missed the deadline for an intermural team because I was still depressed about being cut from my university's (really freaking fantastic) marching band . I had been really close, but hadn't made it, and had to move in to my dorm less than a week after having been cut.
But it was the end of October. I looked at potential spring semester sports, but everything started in March. I need something right that minute. Something I could get involved with. So I started to look through clubs. Some of them are junior varsity-ish teams, and some are actually clubs, and thankfully, the Taekwondo club was an actual club.
That brings me to November, also known as The-Month-That-College-Actually-Started-Getting-Fun-Outside-Of-Class. I attended a meeting of the club, which was actually a class, and after getting over the intial weirdness of being the only non-black belt, it was awesome. I was ready to (and did) pay dues by the second class, even though I had two free.
So that's where I pick up here. Spring semester is already 17.3 times better because I actually have friends that I can have dinner and hang out with who like Broadway and fandom and science. And I could win the award for Most Active Member of the Club Who Has Only Been Here for a Two Months. One of my friends pointed out that out to me today, and I told her I was happy to. It kept me from marathoning television. Well, kind of.
MORAL OF THE STORY: don't forget how to make friends or else you will be miserable for two months until you join a club where you learn how to hit and kick people for fun.
About Me (A Preface)
When I was a Kindergartner, I was labeled "fidgety". This was because the other kids were learning phonics and I could read the Laura Ingalls Wilder picture books by myself. My mom, a social worker, set up meetings with the Gifted coordinator in my school, and by the next school year, I was in the next level reading class. Thus began my life as a "gifted kid".
Don't get me wrong. Being "gifted" made me who I am today, and I love who I am. But, as beginning college taught me, it hasn't been as great as it necessarily sounds. When I got to college, I had to learn how to study, re-learn how to make friends (more on that later), and face a fear of judgment and failing that I previously did not even I know I had/have. And this is an ongoing thing. I'm still working on all of it, though it has gotten considerably easier.
So, about me. I love to read, play the trombone, sing, science (yes, it is a verb. Okay not really, but I like it.), and obsess. And obsess might sound like a strange hobby, but of anything that has ever defined me as a "gifted kid", it is definitely my obsessions.
The earliest I remember/ have been told about was the solar system. I had a laminated map of the planets, as well as a space encyclopedia, which I loved to look at and learn about. My favorite section, now that I think about it, was about life on other planets. Perhaps that's why my current obsession is the British show Doctor Who. Hmmm. Never really thought about it.
Anyways, apparently when I was about five, my mom and I went to the observatory in my hometown, and I asked some really advanced question that not even the docent could answer. Too bad I don't remember what it was. Perhaps that could have taken care of some of my tuition.
Additional obsessions in semi-chronological order have been: lighthouses, presidents, Harry Potter, chess, the Olympics, Pushing Daisies, Broadway/theatre (semi-current), Doctor Who (current). I am a news junkie, and a fact checker, and I know tons of random crap that doesn't really do anything except make me a good contender for Jeopardy!.
Well, here I go. The life of a former gifted kid, now working through an undergraduate education at a huge university. Life as I knew it, as a kid who knew everything to an adult who knows nothing.
In the words of the Eleventh Doctor...
GERONIMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Don't get me wrong. Being "gifted" made me who I am today, and I love who I am. But, as beginning college taught me, it hasn't been as great as it necessarily sounds. When I got to college, I had to learn how to study, re-learn how to make friends (more on that later), and face a fear of judgment and failing that I previously did not even I know I had/have. And this is an ongoing thing. I'm still working on all of it, though it has gotten considerably easier.
So, about me. I love to read, play the trombone, sing, science (yes, it is a verb. Okay not really, but I like it.), and obsess. And obsess might sound like a strange hobby, but of anything that has ever defined me as a "gifted kid", it is definitely my obsessions.
The earliest I remember/ have been told about was the solar system. I had a laminated map of the planets, as well as a space encyclopedia, which I loved to look at and learn about. My favorite section, now that I think about it, was about life on other planets. Perhaps that's why my current obsession is the British show Doctor Who. Hmmm. Never really thought about it.
Anyways, apparently when I was about five, my mom and I went to the observatory in my hometown, and I asked some really advanced question that not even the docent could answer. Too bad I don't remember what it was. Perhaps that could have taken care of some of my tuition.
Additional obsessions in semi-chronological order have been: lighthouses, presidents, Harry Potter, chess, the Olympics, Pushing Daisies, Broadway/theatre (semi-current), Doctor Who (current). I am a news junkie, and a fact checker, and I know tons of random crap that doesn't really do anything except make me a good contender for Jeopardy!.
Well, here I go. The life of a former gifted kid, now working through an undergraduate education at a huge university. Life as I knew it, as a kid who knew everything to an adult who knows nothing.
In the words of the Eleventh Doctor...
GERONIMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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