Children Learn Young About Life on Fast Track : Lifestyle: Socialization demands begin in day-care centers, and by age 7 they are computer-literate. Not all of this is good.

On Mondays, it’s piano lessons. Tuesdays, ballet. Gym group meets Wednesdays. She and her nanny have a standing Thursday play date with Ashley and her nanny. Fridays are reserved for therapy.

Kaitlin could be any remote-control kid.

She is bright and beautifully dressed, adored by her parents and equipped with the best head start a 6-year-old could have. She’s also a candidate for burnout. It’s stressful being a fast-track child.

“It’s a hurried world out there. But kids still need time just to be kids,” said David Bjorklund, a child development expert at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton. “They need time to enjoy their immaturity.”

They need time to stare at a wall, daydream over a picture book, make mud pies, kick a ball around, whistle a tune or play the kazoo--to do things today’s adults had time to do when they were growing up.

Not so long ago, life moved at a slower pace. Being a kid was still a fairly unsophisticated business. No play dates or cribside flash cards, child psychologists, competition for preschool placement and after-school care.

For better or worse, mothers mostly stayed home and dads generally pulled into the driveway by dinner time. Weekends were for mowing the lawn or meandering afternoon drives.

“Today’s a whole different thing. Priorities have shifted. Everything is accelerated,” said John Duncan, 47, a New York interior designer. “It’s not easy having it all. You really have to concentrate.”

Managing his 6-year-old daughter’s life requires strategy sessions in which, datebooks at their sides, Duncan and his wife Gail negotiate ballet and dentist appointments, after-school care and walks in the park.

“I try not to overdo it on the scheduling. You can care too much, want to do too much for your child,” Gail Duncan said. “I know some kids Phoebe’s age that you can’t get a play date with. They’re already booked up every day of the week with tap, computer lessons, academic tutoring.”

Come the millennium, these children may be well-rounded candidates for the Ivy League school of their choice. “But for many of them, the activity level is unrealistic. They end up burning out,” said Susan Newman, author of “Don’t be SAD: A Teen-Age Guide to Handling Stress, Anxiety & Depression.”

Burnout. The symptoms first identified two decades ago in high-wired baby boomers are now showing up in their children. “Downshifting” may be the talk among parents, but in many cases their children are in overdrive.

Psychologist Melvyn Kinder calls it the “Hurried Child Syndrome.”

“A lot of parents are saying, ‘Well, I’ve gotten off the fast track. Now how can I get my kids on? How soon can they walk? How soon can they read?’ ” said Kinder, author of “Going Nowhere Fast.”

Parents want to provide their children the best skills available, give them every advantage in a world far more complex, and dangerous, than the 1950s version they knew as kids.

Today’s children know all about divorce, recession, drug addiction, even AIDS and the environment. And unlike their parents, who were born during postwar plenty, young people cannot presume a boundless future.

“Today, consciously or not, we ask ourselves, ‘Will our children be able to compete?’ Surely soccer will help, or high-intensity music lessons . . . “ writes Richard Louv, a columnist and social commentator who talked to parents nationwide for his book “The Future of Childhood.”

Best intentions aside, it’s possible to push too hard for perfection.

The levels of stress found in children have escalated over the years, in some cases producing anxiety, feelings of inadequacy, stomach aches, asthma or bed-wetting. As adolescents, some look to drugs or sex as an escape.

“Parents don’t set out to be bad or gruesome. But they can get caught up in competitiveness and not see what they’re doing to their kids,” said Newman, who has written several books for young people. “It’s stressful trying to have it all and look like a Ralph Lauren ad at the same time.”

When they had their son in the late 1970s, Pina and Louis Manzone felt a little anomalous. Co-ops, cars and career moves were hot. Kids were not. They were called “old-fashioned’ for choosing a school play over dinner out with friends and limiting work hours at their marketing-communications company.

“People would say, ‘Come on, Pina. What rock are you living under?’ ” Manzone’s wife said from her home in Westport, Conn. “Now, having children is fashionable. You can talk about what private schools you’re sending them to at cocktail parties.”

It troubles the Manzones to think that anyone would acquire children like the ultimate accouterment, “another piece of jewelry, another badge.” But it’s a feeling they get from time to time.

“A lot of parents will give you lip service about wanting their child to be happy. But then I see what they put their kid through,” Pina Manzone said. “Little League fathers yelling at their sons? Ballroom dancing at age 7? Give me a break. That’s not raising a child. That’s raising an extension, a piece of property. It’s no different than competing for the best lawn or the nicest house.”

To some degree, children are--and have always been--an extension of their parents’ egos and self-image. But more than vanity lies behind the carefully choreographed lives of remote-control kids. It’s also pragmatism.

Whether single or married, most parents work outside the home today. That means after-school care or other activities are often the best alternative to a latchkey afternoon of mind-numbing TV and isolation.

“What parents really need to do is ask themselves a very important question: Am I going to make my kids a priority?” said George Batsche, president of the National Assn. of School Psychologists. “The world is so much in flux. We need to teach kids to cope--but teaching takes time.”

And family time, as most parents know, is in short supply these days. In 1965, child rearing commanded about 30 hours a week compared to about 17 hours in 1985, according to studies.

The decline hasn’t gone unnoticed among kids. When asked about the things they want more of in their lives, 76% said they wanted more time with their families, according to a survey for Nickelodeon, a cable network aimed at a young audience.

Parents want to be there for their kids, but today’s 40-hour workweek is actually closer to an average of 50 hours. And when family members are around, it’s often at the end of an exhausting day. Dinner has to be made. The laundry’s stacked up. The boss wants that report ready by dawn tomorrow.

“You put so much into your career, your marriage and your kids that there’s a tendency to feel overwhelmed,” said William Cafaro, 38, an Indianapolis banker, husband and father.

“You come home from work too tired to read your kid a book or play touch football,” he said. “You want to, but there’s only so much you can give. So, often you end up hurting the last person you want to hurt: your child.”

For many parents, days off represent a chance to make up for lost time. “We’ll do it this weekend” is a common refrain, and with each repetition expectations surrounding that slim, 48-hour block grow.

Togetherness, memorable outings and caring conversation. We’ll do it all come Saturday and Sunday. Not surprisingly, weekend days designed for relaxation become themselves a source of stress.

“When Zoe was younger we’d do something special every weekend. One day she finally said, ‘Mom couldn’t we just stay home so I can play with my to” said Sandra Steadham, 47, a single mother in Dallas.

To Zoe, a sensitive 8-year-old, hanging around and doing nothing much with mom is a real prize. No rush or tumult or great expectations. Like so many children, she gets enough drama in everyday life.

Though Steadham has tried to protect her daughter, it was hard to conceal the twin jolts of an emotional breakup with Zoe’s father and a major financial setback at her graphic design firm.

“I’ve had a lot of disillusionment over the last year and I’m sure Zoe feels it to. She’s learned lessons she doesn’t need to learn at 8 years old,” Steadham said. “These kids grow up fast, but they still see with childlike eyes. They’re just kids. They just want love and some security.”