Because of early experiences.

 It has been quite a revelation writing about myself and my past experiences. All that I have experienced include a cause and an effect. Nothing in the past was understood by me or anyone else. Naturally, I was the subject and could not possibly have known any better. 

Early years between the age of five and ten are crucial years for a developing brain. At birth, we are endowed with a brain primed to learn almost anything before slowly demolishing redundant neurons. A child's age between 2 and 7 is known as the preoperational stage. It is a period when a child learns, among much else, to be egocentric and develops centration, the ability to focus on one perspective of a situation at a time.

Because of my early experiences, I did not respond to anything; I was a compulsive daydreamer and mentally elsewhere much of the time. It is a period when a child learns social patterns and can adjust or blend with others.

In time, the brain not knowing anything better sets the 'code in stone'. No matter how many beatings or disciplinary attempts are made to educate the child or person, nothing changes. This mental block introduces much distress as the adult begins to mature and recognise the inherent maladjustment. 

This minor default dwells inconspicuously within the psyche forever, making the bearer unconsciously uneasy in communion with others. The default is few friends, a lack of self-assurance and missed opportunities. The alternative is withdrawal and focusing on something easily managed and can aid isolation.

I can easily imagine that in times gone by, variations of the infirmity, if that what it is, was presumed to be a mental impediment.

1953

 I returned to school the following year as it was deemed necessary that I should at least have a JC certificate. My failure did not come as a surprise to my family or anyone else. Least of all, for me, I was especially unconcerned.

About six weeks into the new year, I was summoned to the headmaster's office. I anticipated the customary rebuke as I stood submissively at his desk. Instead, he declared that he was satisfied to promote me, provided that I understand that if I did not pass the final examination in two years, I would have neither a JC nor a Matriculation Exemption.

I accepted his proposal and set about making a move. I don't recall discussing the offer with anyone. No comments were forthcoming, and life carried on, bearing in mind that I was now weeks behind. I faced a new extended syllabus. The change did not unduly faze me; it did introduce a greater volume of work that necessitated an intensified commitment to study. That alone motivated me and stirred my inquisitive mind beyond the mundane and customary facts.

Toward the end of the second year, just before writing the final examinations, there was much activity. Classmates were frequently involved in private interviews with teachers, presumably to discuss their future. I was never invited nor sought an interview.

The long-awaited day dawned, seated formally within the school hall, we began the disclosure of our knowledge.  I know it seems odd to those who read this, but I was not unduly disturbed by the gravity of the occasion.

I had recently acquired a drivers licence, so it was thought to be a good idea after the exams if I drove my mother to a Drakensberg resort for a week. While there, enjoying the pleasures of life, I received a telegram - I had passed.

Secondary School

 The secondary school that I chose to attend offered tuition in pure chemistry and pure physics; it appealed to me rather than to study physical science. I thought of physical science being a more watered-down version. 

It was a good choice for me, but my old lifestyle demeanour persisted. I was maladjusted from the start. The school was deeply committed to participation in sport, and senior boys were constantly harassing the newcomers. I remember sitting on my own in the large but empty refectory, reflecting on the past and thinking, "What have I done, however, did I get here?"

Within the first couple of days, I was sent to the headmaster's office for a caning along with half the class. We had not done our set homework, but I had no idea of what was required. It was not a good start!

My solitary disposition quickly took hold as I sought to withdraw and be invisible. Friedrich Nietzsche, the Philosopher, advises one not to follow a herd mentality. Strict dogmatic behaviour by those attempting to constrain or compel may invite rebellion. He suggests that for people that resist, it can be terrifying and dangerous.  Thinking 'outside the box' puts one at risk, yet it can be advantageous and creative. I had little choice; circumstances dictated that option for me. I lacked the wisdom to understand my predicament as, I believe, everyone else did.

Nevertheless, I was very different, spending my days secluded in a shed behind the house, making fireworks and doing chemistry experiments. There was a shop in the city that sold all manner of laboratory equipment and chemicals. It was enough to initiate horror within the mind of any present-day health and safety administrator. Studying to pass exams was a fallacy for the benefit of the diligent.

At the end of 1951, I wrote the Junior Certificate school-leaving examination, I - failed. 

1949

 The war, WWII ended on 2 September 1945, and we returned to Durban. My first years at school in Port Shepstone were disastrous, but nothing like what was about to unfold. Initially, we lived in a residential hotel; we had no base or home awaiting our return. I returned to school at the nearest school available; there were not too many options.

It was a large school with many pupils and extensive sports fields. Many of the boys were coarse hungry orphans from a nearby orphanage. They were quick to deprive me of anything that resembled food. I was not accustomed to an environment of that nature. I was unpretentious and solitary.  During breaks, another boy and I would retire to the extremities of the sports fields, hide and remain away until the bell rang. 

The class teacher was not much less a tyrant; I think she reaped more fulfilment from her cane than bringing me to my senses. The more I dodged the descending cane on my hands; the more exaggerated the venom. 

I returned to the hotel each day black and blue but did not receive much comfort there either. Finally, I awakened in a hospital bed with a pile of Bugs Bunny comics beside me. While I can clearly remember much of what went on, I have no recollection of the hospital circumstances or how long I remained there. As far as I can recall, it was not illness or injury.

Thankfully, my mother found a more refined school for me the following year. I was ten years old, but still, my fragile psyche was irrecoverably altered. My introverted, intuitive thinking intensified while teaching staff knew better than to urge participation.

I spent three years at the school before going on to a secondary school. There, I studied more scientifically inclined subjects. 

First day of school.

 Interestingly, my experience on the first day of school followed me throughout my school career. My critical early years of development had been ill-defined. Writing this blog has been a revelation for me. I am fully aware that my life's foundation was not congruent with conventional perspectives.

A good illustration of the difference, though not in isolation, was my concept of self-will or self-esteem. Between five and ten years old, I could not have been aware of the default, but then, neither could anyone else.  By not having friends or playing with others, I did not learn to be competitive or enjoy pride in achievement. 

I lived on another planet while the needs and objectives of others were meaningless to me; I could adjust to circumstances that I considered logically necessary. This made the difference between the autistic children that I encounter and me. 

As I observe my adopted and autistic grandchild, I wonder if I might have had a similar disposition. I could and can modify and adjust my behaviour as necessary. The autistic child needs constant supervision, refocussing and repeated correction. 

A good example was my father's desire for me to be a good tennis player. He spent many years of despair getting me motivated. By the time I turned 18 years old, I could play an excellent and robust game, but I was never devoted. Winning or losing was immaterial; I simply played for the sake of playing. 

Being at school was always a foreign experience; I never really belonged or was comfortable. I don't share the typical values of society, particularly those of today that include celebrity worship or the consequence of sports achievement.

I have always lived on the 'edge', thus not wasting space!. My experience throughout my school years is yet to be revealed.

I was never lonely.

 I was never lonely—no one ever thought to tell me about loneliness or the consequences; I lived in a universe of my own. Looking at the notes my parents made of me during my first five years, I must have been a very average child. 

The time came for me to commence school, the same problem prevailed. Just as I had entertained myself in the bush, I entertained myself in the schoolroom. I was seated at the back of a class and had no idea of why I was there. I was very placed and obedient; I did what I was told. A lady stood up in front of the class and rambled on about something. I was not the least interested and was never likely to be. 

This was a very intricate problem, and it was very personal. Naturally, I was not aware of it, and neither was anyone else. Looking back, I was never thoroughly counselled for the lifestyle I was to encounter. 

I don't blame my parents, nor do I bear any resentment. I understand the traumatic life they had endured; they were poorly educated due to the circumstances prevailing during their adolescent years. They had no concept of academic procedures or educational necessities.

Fortified by the knowledge that I have gained over time and observing my three adopted grandchildren, I am aware of the permanent societal maladjustment they suffer. 

Those initial years proved to be traumatic for some, but not for me. I learned nothing, cared about nothing or very little. My daydreaming was a joke for some, but on the whole, I was just left to myself. I had no friends, just lived in a world of my own. I was not stupid; I could take care of myself and learn what I needed. I had no toys or books like present-day children of the same age, it was wartime, and food was not much more plentiful.

Port Shepstone, settling in.

 The Norwegian, British and German immigrants who arrived settled mainly on farms in the district; it was primarily Indian traders in the town itself. Apart from the golf course across the river, the town was surrounded by a natural bush unspoiled by human meddling. 

The bridge across the river served both road traffic and the train. There was no warning of an approaching train or barriers restraining road traffic. Crossing the bridge in a car was a noisy experience owing to the loose wooden timbers that served as a road.

My mother knew of the dangers of machine guns and water, but African bush was beyond her comprehension. Where we initially settled, there were few children, mostly older and rough. I spent my days alone roaming the bush and the river banks.

I was familiar with the long green snakes, hopefully, grass snakes and the riverside reeds teeming with birds busily building nests on the long stalks. 

Chameleons fascinated me with their ability to change colour and eyes that could swivel around while seeking prey. Every daisy in the garden had a small "daisy beetle" in the centre. In the evening, the roadsides swarmed with fireflies and glow worms. 

I was surrounded by wildlife. Even today, I remember very little of home life, my mother or anything else during that period before being introduced to school life. My parents were always very busy with response to the demands of the war. 

Periodically, my mother and I would take the train to visit Molly, my half-sister in Durban. It was a five-hour journey, mostly at night. No lights were allowed owing to the possibility of enemy submarines off the coast. There were many rivers to cross, and the train would crawl across the rickety bridges at a snail's pace.