How Being a Gifted Child Destroyed My Mental Health

Once upon a time, I was smart. Everyone from my teachers to Pizza Hut put me on a pedestal. When the path to praise shifted, I learned that early success is nearly impossible to sustain long-term.
Elementary School

As a child, I got good grades with minimal effort. The traditional format of public school fits my natural learning style. This privilege had nothing to do with my intelligence and everything to do with the luck of the draw. But, back then, I didn’t feel lucky. I felt intelligent.
As an honor roll student, I got plenty of praise, compliments, and free stuff:
- Chuck E. Cheese gave me free tokens
- Pizza Hut gave me free pizza
- Chick-fil-A gave me free ice cream
I was in heaven.
All I had to do was regurgitate information from my teacher and I’d get free junk food? Sign me up!
My name was on an honor roll list in a high-traffic area of the school. I got honored at countless end-of-school assemblies. I was given a gold star, after gold star, after gold star.
The climax of my short-lived run as an honor roll student came one chilly morning in elementary school. As I walked in, a pamphlet was waiting for me at my desk. It had my handwritten name on it — of course, so I’d know it was especially for me.
I sat down at my desk and read its title: John Hopkins Center for Talented Youth.
I had no idea what that was. But, as I flipped through the pamphlet, I got this warm, fuzzy feeling in my tummy. I figured this is what Harry Potter must have felt when he was accepted to Hogwarts.
As the class started a warm-up assignment, I read about the center’s programs for the nation’s “gifted” students.
I was honored. I couldn’t believe this center chose me.
I returned home that afternoon with a fire in my belly and a list of reasons why I should go.
My parents thought otherwise. I was angry at the time — but as I look back I can understand why Mom and Dad didn’t want to spend a large amount of money on a summer camp for nerds. I went to sleep with a newfound dedication towards being the “smart kid” — at all costs.
How to Stay Silent

Because I was so obsessed with being right, I was deathly afraid of being wrong. I never raised my hand to ask or answer questions.
I had seen classmates raise their hand, give their opinion, and get laughed at or made an example of. I didn’t want to test the waters and inevitably reveal my truth — that I wasn’t as smart as everyone thought I was.
Looking back, it’s obvious I dealt with a lot of anxiety and imposter syndrome as a kid. But, I didn’t have a name for it back then.
I was overflowing with fear and thought it was normal.
As the years went by, classes got harder. The path to success shifted. It was no longer about regurgitation; it was about studying.
I had no idea how to study. I was never taught good studying habits. I was only told “to study” — but what does that mean exactly? Do I practice old exams? Do I read my textbook? Do I cry uncontrollably as I pace back and forth in my bedroom until the day of the exam? What do I do?
My grades slipped. I was no longer the smart kid. I was just a kid. One thing was for sure: I needed help. But, because I had taught myself that raising my hand wasn’t worth the possibility of humiliation, I didn’t reach out to anyone.
I learned very quickly that no one wants to put extra effort towards the “normal” kid. My school was quick to let most kids fall through the cracks. Then, they push their money, opportunities, and praise towards the “smart” kids — as they did with me years prior.
The Other Side

I noticed the disparities of how kids in accelerated programs are treated compared to the rest of the student body in high school.
My school had a program centered around world languages. Kids in that program were given opportunities to study abroad in a foreign country.
At the same time, funding was scarce throughout other electives like debate, music, and theatre.
The disparity was at its clearest at our senior honors assembly. The school required the entire class to attend. They cut class to make time for this assembly. We watched for an hour and a half as the same ten kids got all the awards, praise, and scholarships. Our class had at least a couple hundred kids.
At that moment, I felt that I had truly failed. They had understood the path to success — and I didn’t. Maybe if I knew I needed to volunteer, play sports, get straight As, have a part-time job, and appear happy to succeed — then maybe I would have done it. But, I didn’t know. The rules had changed drastically since I was in elementary school.
I was on the verge of my biggest accomplishment so far, graduating high school, and I felt awful.
It’s not that I don’t believe those kids should be praised. They had accomplished amazing things. But, the fact that it was required for everyone to be there spoke strongly about how the school felt about those kids compared to the rest of us.
At 17, I felt like I was past my prime. This deeply affected my mental health from then until now.
The Aftermath

My 12-year search for A+s left me aching for outside validation as an adult. It’s hard to gauge success when you’re not constantly being given feedback. As a freelancer, I have to rely on my natural tendencies to make sure I’m going in the right direction. I have never been taught to trust my intuition so it has been a difficult transition.
One of the most detrimental habits I’ve maintained from my public school years is an aversion to learning new things. In school, they give you little to no time to learn — usually within a day. Those who are fast learners are immediately praised.
In life, learning isn’t so quick. You have to be a beginner before becoming an expert. You have to suck. I get frustrated when I’m not understanding new concepts quickly. A steep learning curve has kept me from learning countless things.
At 25, 8 years since I’ve graduated high school, I’ve only just begun to unlearn these toxic habits and address the anxieties I’ve dealt with since childhood.
Life is all about unlearning the BS the world pushed on you.
Recently, I’ve dedicated myself to practicing healthy habits like meditating and repeating positive affirmations. I constantly remind myself that I’m okay just the way I am.
Fears over being wrong were pummeled into my brain for over a decade. I don’t expect my brain to change overnight. But, these daily practices are helping me inch towards self-acceptance. I’m confident I’ll get there one day.
I just wish I would have learned early that being an “honor roll student” or a “gifted child” doesn’t translate to success in adulthood.
At best, you’ll be left with spotty memories from John Hopkins Center for Talented Youth and decade-old medals to use as paperweights.
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Nia Simone McLeod is a writer, content creator, and pop culture enthusiast from Richmond, Virginia. Follow her on Twitter, Tumblr, or Instagram for more awesome digital content.