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I don’t know…something about being a weird, awkward kid.

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I was a weird kid.  (I was going to write “I think I was a weird kid,” but I’ll just own it.  That is one of those things that if you have to ask, the answer is always yes.)

Anyway, as I was saying, I was weird.  During recess, I would run around pretending to be an alien.  In class, I would do weird things to get attention…which usually resulted in some sort of attention from the principal (i.e. “What is wrong with you?”).  I’m still not quite sure what was wrong with me.  Way too creative for the box into which they were trying to cram me, maybe?  Well, generally speaking, my weirdness didn’t seem to help me much, other than to be occasionally humiliated in front of my entire class; by “occasionally,” I mean “all the time.”

Once in Mrs. Kirby’s third-grade class (that’s Grade Three for any Canucks…

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