I grew up with a reputation for being strange and even crazy and not in the good way, though true to form, I never managed to get my qualification papers. The last few years out here in the silent wilderness have helped me understand how my life was affected by an undiagnosed childhood mental illness which had devastating lifelong consequences.
I was terrible in school. Raised in the Canadian Military, I attended nine different schools in two countries and four provinces and one territory in 12 years, all of which had different standards. In Grade three in Gander Nfdl., it was discovered I was “terrible in math”, not able to memorize the multiplication tables. Neither was I able to hold my pencil properly. I mixed up right and left and always turned counter-clockwise. And, because I failed these things I was placed into the lowest remedial level, which also meant I was denied access to the interesting opportunities the higher level students had.
Part of the problem was, under any stress, my mind would go totally blank and I couldn’t remember anything. In elementary school I generally had no idea what my teachers were talking about as I couldn’t remember what they had taught the class before. My memories growing up are of daily debilitating anxiety that I would say or do something embarrassing while having a panic attack, which happened frequently. Many years later my mom told me I'd had panic attacks since I was two years old, when she found me hiding behind the couch crying at nothing.
Every school year got worse. My parents were angry at my apparent efforts to humiliate our family by my failures. My report cards across the country said the same. All the negative feedback in school all added up to the same thing – not the perfect officer’s kid.
My school days went by as a bad dream. Grade 11 and 12 at Samuel Herne Secondary School in Inuvik, were a disaster. Even if I did try, it was misconstrued. By that point I was drinking alcohol as much and as often as possible to try to forget the whole miserable mess. As punishment for being such a poor student, the school wouldn’t let me go on our big senior class trip to Victoria, BC. Being the only one of the class left behind – with everyone knowing why – was a low point I never recovered from, no matter how many times I tried to free myself from the voice telling me I was a complete and utter failure.
There was a point in my life in 2002 at 42 years old when out of the blue, I thought maybe I could have a career. The college was just down the road, so I went in and scheduled to take the two tests required for admission to the legal secretary program, at the same time grabbing the free math review booklet.
The testing system was interactive. Every question answered correctly, the computer would send you on a harder path, the wrong answer would send you on an easier path. One question at a time and when finished you could not go back. I would be alone in the room. The English test was easy since I have read a lot of literature and therefore can make good guesses. Then there was the dreaded math test. I worked through the first basic arithmetic questions easily. Suddenly after an hour and a half, the questions got much harder. I had to read them over several times and work things out with the pencil and paper supplied. The last question was so difficult, I remember feeling upset when I read it. There had been nothing like it in the review booklet. How could they expect me to figure out that? The weight of the many horrible failures in my life when my mind would go completely blank in panic, sat heavy on my shoulders. This time I managed my breathing, calmed myself, kept my mind clear and slowly worked through the final question. No time limit, no pressure, no people. I finished the whole test in two and a half hours which worried me. As a returning adult student, they had recommended I take the full three hours and could even come back the next day if I needed to.
A few days later, I went to the academic counsellor for my interview and scores. In English, I received 98 per cent, which was pretty good considering I had made more than a few educated guesses. Then she said they were extremely impressed with my math score of 100 per cent and they had no record of anyone scoring that high. She said the computer had taken me on the most difficult path for math and my scores qualified me for any university program I wanted and she recommended engineering.
What? I explained to her that since Grade three I have failed math and even after taking NWT Grade 10 math twice, had not been able to pass it. Which as far as I remember, had stopped me fully graduating high school. I had passed Grade 11 math, but the school wouldn’t give me credit because I did not have the prerequisite Grade 10 math or something like that. It’s a f’ed up world.
Was she sure there was no mistake? Oh there was no mistake, she happily answered. My student loan was already approved and she welcomed me to begin my chosen classes within just a few weeks. I drove my car home in a state of exuberant wild reaction, uncontrollably honking the horn for the whole eight blocks and yelling out the window to the flabbergasted neighbours, “I’m not dumb! I’m not dumb!”
Unfortunately, just when I began classes, my young son shattered his elbow in a rollerblade accident, which caused me to spend the next four years in and out of hospitals for five major surgeries and a very serious staph infection where he almost lost his arm. By the time he was well again, my mind was no longer on a career.
But it was OK, at least now I knew I wasn’t stupid. That was just a label put on me by a society who did not understand mental health issues. I have that treasure in my heart now. It wasn’t me being dumb, or lazy or rebellious or any of those other things the system labeled me with. It was the panic and anxiety and social fear that stopped me from doing well in school and started me self-medicating with alcohol at a very young age. Thankfully, in 2018 we have better understanding of these type of childhood mental health disorders and hopefully struggling kids can get special interventions, accommodations, attention, medications and the proper guidance early enough to do well in school and in life.