Chapter 2
THE GIFTED & TALENTED CHILD
In order for you to get the most out of this book, I think it’s important to cover my childhood, so you’ll be able to include those factors, as you move through the experience of understanding My Truth.
Here goes nothing.
I remember coming home after elementary school one day, excited to spend time with my cousin Buffy, and he said something about the teachers saying I was “gifted.” I really didn’t understand what he meant. I just wanted to hang out with my older cousin, and feel like a “big kid.”
Over the course of the next few years, I attended after-school programs with two other “gifted and talented” kids—Matt and another Brandon—and we ended up becoming good friends. I never really understood why we were singled out as “gifted,” and really didn’t pay much attention to the label. I was more interested in playing football after school, and hopefully crossing the path of a cute girl in the neighborhood.
I did rather well in school; I always made the honor roll—with very little effort exerted. I rarely did my homework the night before it was due, opting instead to cram it all in, on the bus ride to school, or in homeroom. I wouldn’t have considered myself to be “gifted” by any means. I was more like a class-clown, who thought homework was unnecessary, and thought most of the subjects in school were pointless, as well.
As I look back, I guess I can see how the adults in my life would’ve considered me a “gifted” child. They must’ve recognized my potential while reading my Young Author’s Book in 2nd grade: The Space Men by Brandon Merhout. I wish I could find it, but the story dealt with “space-men” who came to earth in order to help create peace on the planet. I won second place. This would evidently be the first seed of a blossoming career as a writer. I’m still waiting on that seed to blossom. :]
My mom usually worked late, so my step-sister and I were each responsible for getting ourselves up, showering, eating breakfast, and catching the school bus. I remember handling these responsibilities as an elementary school kid. I’d wake up, take a shower, cook two egg-sandwiches, watch Fraggle Rock, and catch the bus.
I started cutting my own hair somewhere around the third grade. The haircut I gave myself just before my 5th grade annual school picture makes me cringe. My hair was spiked on top, long in the back, with bangs in the front. I was the mullet-man. While cutting my hair before pictures, I slipped on the angle, and a huge chunk of my bangs were missing. Not to mention, one of my pals gave me a hard time about having a “uni-brow,” so I decided to take a razor right down the middle of my forehead, eliminating half of each eyebrow.
I wasn’t very gifted or talented when it came to giving haircuts. Some of my friends found this out later—the hard way.