My Graduation, May 1996

I couldn’t speak as a child. I guess it is called “being mute”. My sister used to speak on my behalf. If I wanted a sandwich or something to eat, my sister would ask my mother. When I was about five, I was taken for speech therapy. I had to complete exercises at home. My mother would ask me to fetch three things from her bedroom – book, slippers, pjs. I would go to the bedroom and have to try and remember the three items. I remember having to go back a few times to ask her to repeat the items. My Dad told me last year it was suggested I attend a “special needs” school. My father refused. I was held back and started school a year late. By that time I was able to speak, and after learning a few words I went off and taught myself to read Enid Blyton’s “Enchanted Wood”. I was the first child in the Grade to be able to read fluently, and that was with no extra help. And ever since then I was fairly academic. I did well in my grades, and graduated with an Honours degree in Computer Science and Applied Maths. But every so often, remnants of my shortcomings crop up. Like Saturday for instance. I started painting a “Paint By Numbers” set, easy as. There’s the template, all laid out and numbered, and the little paint boxes all numbered, and paintbrush. But then! Some of the sections had two or three numbers on them. What? Now what? What do I do now? Hmmm. I turned the cover over, and no instructions. Do I paint the first layer and then add a second layer on top? I’m confused. Eventually I had to turn to my nine-year-old. What do I do if there are two or three numbers appearing together. Then what? Oh, you mix them! Ah.