Grade school proved to be neither a happy nor unhappy affair. I considered it an integral part of growing up through which every child must pass. I made acquaintances, for I could not truly label these individuals as friends, so cruel and insensitive they often showed themselves to be. Many would mock less fortunate children, reasoning that their standing amongst their peers would undoubtedly be raised for their unjust behavior. Only once did I resort to such base inclinations for the supposed purpose of gaining popularity, and once was enough for me. Coupled with the fact that I was nearly "caught" by the subject of my ridicule, I despised myself for behaving in such a lowly manner. From that day to the present I have kept my comments hidden, or if I do speak aloud, I am prepared to stand behind my statements. I speak only of my distaste for actions which I personally regard as wrong or spurred through a lack of control; any further comments are of no consequence unless the subject is able to change those things about which he is being ridiculed. Although I excelled academically in school, I was always content when the time would come to be dismissed. I liked school only in the sense that I enjoyed the result of successfully completing my assignments. I felt a certain compulsion to produce perfection: I believed that if I was to engage in an activity at all, I should do my best, or my time thus engaged would be without worth. This desire for perfection had a price, however, because certain activities conflicted with my personality. Although physical education was my ultimate terror, the only subject with which I grappled considerably was mathematics. After the most elementary techniques of addition, multiplication, and their counterparts were mastered, I found myself to be floundering in a sea of the seemingly "unknowable." I had extreme difficulty accepting the various theorems and equations without asking the method behind their stated form. I was alarmed to deal with absolutes, finding it hard to believe that any subject was so unyielding and allowed no room for error, however slight. In my inability to accept the laws of mathematics "wholesale," I soon discovered that there were those teachers who disliked students who failed to grasp their subject matter. Perhaps they felt that one who did not understand was undoubtedly inattentive in class and was therefore undeserving of any further assistance outside of class, especially when the extra time was the teacher's own. In many instances, I would seek the mathematically inclined intelligence of my cousin, Gary, or attempt to work out my disaster through additional reading and calculation, rather than face the malignant stare of an insensitive instructor.