Cloudy With a Chance of Insane

I attended Superman's first parent-teacher conference of third grade last week. I had high hopes...but alas, they were dashed. This conference turned out to be just like every other conference that I've had since first grade: disappointing, disheartening, frightening.
On the one hand I know how lucky I am that I've got this awesome little boy who is happy and funny and friendly and the biggest joy of my day. On the other hand, it's really fucking hard to hear that your kid doesn't keep up in class, doesn't get his work done, most of the time has no idea what's going on, and that the teacher is genuinely worried about what will happen to him in the next nine weeks.
We visited his pediatrician again last week after an epic meltdown over loud noises, with me thinking surely there is some developmental or sensory issue going on here--there has to be some explanation and effective treatment for these issues. The pediatrician diagnosed him with an anxiety disorder, and stated that anxiety and depression go hand in hand with most ADHD personalities. SUPER SWEET.
So we're trying an anxiety med for a month, in hopes that it will help him have more confidence and in turn be able to try/persevere at new things instead of losing interest immediately if he's not great at it. I'm also having the teacher fill out an evaluation for the pediatrician so that we can see if we need to up his ADD med. LAWD, this sucks. I'm trying to keep it in perspective. But I am terrified of what his future holds--or doesn't hold.