One of my earliest underachievements in an academic career filled with them came at First Presbyterian Church kindergarten, where I failed naps.
There were mats. We were supposed to stay on them. I could not.
My father was an excellent napper. I believe he perfected the art in medical school, although a stint in the army might have helped.
But I lacked the gift. Planes, trains, automobiles -- nothing could put me to sleep before bedtime.
Then I got old. Now I'm pretty good at it.