Waaaaaah!

I used to be a well behaved kid contrary to what this picture may show. I’d stay exactly where my mum would leave me for hours. Not moving because I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty. I’d stay away from all the naughty children and even tell them to refrain from acitivities that would get them (and me) into trouble.
I spent a lot of my childhood in Pakistan. Being good. I went to nursery school (kindergarten) there, sat exams even (yes, exams at age 3) and scored the highest score in the school’s history. I got picked on my the other kids but I was still good. Good, good, good. And then I got ‘bad’. Cue evil maniacal laugh.

This happened just after the aforementioned exams. We were back in England and I was attending a slightly less regimented school i.e. plasticine wasn’t considered unsolicited material. My mother started noticing a difference in my behaviour. I wouldn’t listen. I’d ignore her, the teachers, all members of the family. What could be wrong? They tried talking to me about it, but hey I was barely four, I could care less about deep one-on-one chats. Then it occured to mum. Maybe she can’t actually hear me! So the doctor was the next person to try and diagnose the problem and I was readily shipped off to the ear clinic. They syringed my right ear out but when they went to do the left one, lo and behold! Paper. Little bits of paper trapped in my ear. I confess, the exams were way too stressful. The paper was symbolic of me trying to block the world out. Or maybe I was just bored.
Now I’m in the final year of my BSc. Exams are just around the corner. I’ve run out of paper…..