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When you reflect on life, you muse about some of the hoops you've had to jump, just to get to the next day in the maze and turmoil that is the drama of growing up. I've even been tempted at times to blame my parents for creating an inadvertent environment of duress, that made it all the more important for the need to be creative in developing survival tactics to cope with the events that played out right in front of your eyes. This they did, by thrusting me at a very tender age, in a schooling and social environment that equated class to identity, and by extension, the right to be heard and not just to be seen. I guess you can't blame a parent for trying to give their child the best, though the jury is still out about the methodology of this rationale.

See, I grew up in a public council estate where by the age of 3, you were fending for yourself when out in the playground. No family in a 5 mile radius had a monopoly on poverty, though every single parent did their best to keep their households above that respectable poverty line. The casualty to this survival instinct was that as kids, from a very early age, we had to learn how to improvise. It was unthinkable to even ask for a toy and from my recollection, the only interaction I had with any toys was when I watched advertisements on TV that had toys, and this was usually at a neighbours place on a special occasion.

Folks spent most of their time getting through the day and figuring out about what to do the next day that there wasn't' any quality time for creating an atmosphere where we could grow up in a well-rounded, three dimensional way like the rest of society. It was a predictable environment where getting through the end of the day was a good strategy, low level gang thuggery seemed to be a preferred way of life for teenagers, and in some quarters, domestic violence was a cottage industry. It's no wonder why any parent would see school as an opportunity to change fortunes and give hope to their children, and for this fact alone, any parent should receive a medal.

In my case, I was presented with a serious social entry problem when I was landed with a school place not only on the other side of the rail tracks, but most definitely on the other side of town. It was the sort of school that would earn any dad bragging rights when he sat down with his peers at the local drinking den. It was one of those schools that gave an opportunity for young children with academic ability, as it was subsidized by the government.

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