Nowadays, it's more common to see increasingly younger students placed in "gifted" programs designated for "smarter" kids. It is officially defined as a program for youth with high achievement capabilities in the arts, academics, and leadership. They were the kids who were eight-years-old but could read at an eighth-grade reading level. These students who were praised for their intelligence and for how they interpret the world. They were the next generation of leaders. They were the trailblazers of recess and the innovators of snack-time; and yup, I was one of them.

As a kid, I was praised for reading "Harry Potter" in the second grade and understanding basic functions in the fifth grade. Academically, I was groomed for a career in honors classes and the International Baccalaureate Program. Socially, I was starved. I was starved of interaction with kids outside of my gifted class. I reached a point where I could talk to adults much easier than kids my age. Heck, I can still talk to adults better than I can with my peers.

We were looked at different once we told others we were in the "gifted" class. Our peers never saw us around the school, because we were in a whole different building. I also never gave myself credit for my achievements, I always chalked them up to being "gifted." I had this drive to prove to the world that I was supposed to be put in the gifted program. A desperate need to belong with the school-designated "smart kids." A need to be perfect. As a 10-year-old, I never realized that this would become toxic years later.

I thought I got A's because I was naturally gifted, not because I had put in the hard work to get the desired work. I thought I got first chair in music because I was good, not because I poured hours of practice time into my instrument. When these things started to falter, I began to question my self-worth. When the B's started to mingle with the A's, I wondered what was wrong with me. Was I not smart enough? Was I not good enough? Why was I not perfect?

Senior year, I had a revelation. I stepped outside of my comfort zone and opened myself up socially. I ran for homecoming queen and won. While the homecoming court is superficial, that moment made me realize that I am worth more than I have ever given myself credit for. Every day since that fateful night on the field with the tiara and fireworks, my world snapped into focus. I came to understand that I deserved every single achievement I had accomplished.

I realized that I am not perfect, but I am worth so much more than I had previously thought. Now, I have come to terms with the fact that I am pretty average compared to the rest of the world, and I am okay with that. "Giftedness" never goes away, everyone else just catches up. It has taken 10 years to reach this conclusion, but since I have, I have finally been able to love myself.

To all of the once-gifted kids who are now an average reading-level and no longer praised by every adult: I hope that you come to realize that your self-worth is immeasurable. You are enough.