Early School Years
During my time in Nursery (kindergarten American friends) I had such disdain and hatred for talking with the teachers I sat on the carpet during story time and wet myself!!!
(Ed) And a knock out ending! (Ed)
A lot of kids don't like going to school I obviously couldn't name each and every reason but a few examples could be the pressure of the school work, bullying, the feelings of having to fit in, difficulties making friends or maybe some are just a bit shy.
A bit shy that last one plagued me throughout not just my entire school time but life in general.
Countless school reports over the years would have teachers writing I was a bit shy, or something similar.
As it's something many teachers say about some of my own kids today and something that infuriates me even today it's an issue I'll address first.
I'm not shy, I've never ever been shy, none of my kids are shy.
I have Autism sure, so do they, and I have issues connecting with people sometimes but that doesn't make me shy.
For me personally people either have to click with me pretty much instantly or work extremely hard to get through all the barriers to finally make it inside my mind.
Of course I know how that sounds and I make no such claims that such efforts would be either successful or worth it, you can call me complex, you can call me weird or crazy if you like but if you talk to the very few people who do make it in then they'll tell you I'm certainly not shy!
The sooner the education system and teachers in particular stop trying to pigeon hole kids to fit one of a few limited options the better schools will be in general for all kids no matter what issues they may or may not have.
Okay with that rant over let me go through what memories I have from my pre high school years.
On one occasion during nursery I was wearing my red cord dungarees and with an absolute refusal to talk to the teachers I sat there during story time and wet myself.
(Ed) Can we stop mentioning that now? (Ed)
I've been told that the bad / traumatic events often stick in the mind while so other memories fail which probably explains why almost all I can remember is such events from the time.
On my first day of nursery my mum took me into the room but my bag and coat on the hook while I cried my eyes out and led me into the classroom.
By this point my eyes are entirely covered by my forearm and under no circumstances was I going to remove it and take a look at the classroom, the teachers or any of the kids I'd spend most of the next 12 years at school with.
My mum tells me she stayed for a long time and certainly a lot longer than any other parent and while that's almost certainly true but she still eventually left me and that made me so mad for such a long time.
Of course she was in a no win situation and I face similar issues as a parent myself now with Khaleesi it's incredibly difficult.
But this was 1984 and the general consensus was hey kid look I hated school and I had to go and now so do you, one day it will all be over and you'll never have to go again.
I spent the vast majority of the whole year sat at a table with my head buried under my arms wanting nothing to do with anyone or anything.
I did eventually remove my arms though I have absolutely no idea how they got me to do so.
But I was still no doubt still that kid the teachers really hated having to deal with, they might exactly say it in front of parents but all teachers have kids and parents too they'd rather not deal with.
I guess I'm on both lists.
The only other things of significance I remember from nursery is being stood on top of a little hill in the nursery playground and being pelted by snowballs and throwing milk cartons at things everytime the teachers told me I should drink my milk.
I didn't drink milk throughout school but every day in the early years they'd put it in front of me and tell me to drink it anyway.
With nursery out of the way actual school started with years one through six before everyone moved up to highschool.
Thankfully during this period I don't remember wetting myself
(Ed) It probably still happened! (Ed)
But just like nursery the only real memories I have are bad ones.
During year one my mum was taking me down the hill to school when she slipped off the pavement and gashed her leg really badly.
Of course as a young kid it probably looked like a lot more blood than there actually was but it was bad enough that she had to try and hold me and limp all the way home so my dad could take me to school instead.
I didn't want to go of course and I spent the whole day worrying about her.
See mum I do care.
It was probably a good thing I did go because I found her gold watch by the side of the road where she fell on the way to school with my dad.
In year 2 I remember a kid in my class named Joshua being hit in the head right above the eye with a snowball.
Except it wasn't much of a snowball and much more like an ice ball with a bit of snow around the outside of it.
Again there was probably less blood than I actually remember there being but it certainly split his head open and I remember the blood running down his head and dripping off his face.
He was taken home and back at school within a couple of days perhaps even the day after but it's one of the few early school year memories that stuck with me.
Now I'm going to skip years 3 and 4 because other than having a horrible teacher in year 4 and one of the kids bringing in some black magic book where a number of us tried to do various chants and things none of which ever worked there was nothing of note that I really remember.
(Ed) Come on black magic?
You can't just leave it at that give us an example or two at least! (Ed)
Okay a couple of quick examples one where we had to all stand in front of a mirror and chant a name, I believe it was bloody queen Mary but I could be wrong.
Maybe someone had just seen the Candy Man movie!
It was amusing watching some kids run screaming from the bathroom saying she was going to kill them while everyone else was just staring in a mirror at their own disappointed reflection that obviously nothing happened.
There was also some kind of silly thing where you set up pegs at the top of your stairs in a particular way and then read a certain part of bible backwards.
In doing so the pegs would come to life you'd have to run down the stairs as fast as possible before they quite literally pegged you to death.
As you can probably imagine that didn't work either.
I'm not sure exactly what is more stupid all of the kids that took part in these crazy little experiments or the parent that bought the book for kid in the first place!
Okay with that little detour I'll definitely be skipping year 6 the only thing that happened during that year was I was the first kid in the entire school to wear jeans, and I was widely mocked for it.
Within a couple of months half the school was wearing jeans, I guess I'm a trendsetter!
And the majority of the kids were scared to hell of going up to high school while I didn't care at all I'd already being through 7 years of hell high school just felt like a continuation of it to me.
That was half right at least.
So I'll end the chapter with year 5 and the best teacher I ever had despite him repeatedly telling my class as a whole that we were the worst class he'd ever taught and he even retired at the end of the school year!
That happened a lot through high school too.
Despite my hatred for school I had a very small number of great teachers and Mr East was easily my favourite of them all.
He encouraged me to write and always enjoyed reading through my short stories I'd write at home and bring in for him.
Or at the very least he'd always give the impression he did, I'm not sure how much he wanted a new story every Monday but at no point did he ever ask me to stop.
He told me he believed I had exceptional potential as a writer for my age.
The handwriting was another story, my handwriting was, still is & always will be exceptionally dreadful!
(Ed) He's not wrong everyone let's all be thankful for PC's! (Ed)
So at nine / ten years old my love affair with writing and telling stories really moved up a few gears.
I always liked to write but with his praise and encouragement my stories would get longer and more detailed each and every week.
Many involved death and monsters and the murder of many a school pupil which I guess would probably throw up a red flag or ten these days but it was just my style at the time and I wasn't really a fan of the vast majority of my peers so coming up with new monsters or new ways to kill them each week was one of the few things in life that gave me motivation to go to school.
I'd usually sit in the playground on my own each lunch break and watch the kids run around the playground.
Talking, shouting, screaming whatever it was I honed my observation skills that I'd later go on to virtually master in high school.
I'd blend in, get ignored, hear fun stories and twist them into new ways to kill my classmates in the stories!
(Ed) You do realise that so far in this book, you've ended the chapters with a sperm setting off on a journey, you wetting yourself and now thinking up new ways to kill your classmates!
Yes that was meant in fictional terms but when you mix it all in with the mind stuff you aren't coming across that well and high school is next, high school! nobody is ever going to get to the end of this! (Ed)
(Ed) Oh and one last thing!
You forgot to mention the part where you were playing baseball on the field swung the bat missed the ball, hit yourself above the eye and knocked yourself out!
wouldn't that have been a much more light hearted and amusing end to a chapter?(Ed)
Chapter 3.5 The Mind
Our guide gets an actual real name!
(Ed) It's true I couldn't believe it either! (Ed)
Kids come and kids go as the keeper tries to keep people in and out all at the same time.
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