John Glenn Tracy.

I knew I would have to write one of these self-portrait essays sooner or later. Ask me about anything else and I can write as many words as you like, but about me!?

I have an older brother and three younger brothers. I won't name them. Everyone knows my brothers anyhow. Even the youngest, who is only twelve. I am sixteen and for a very long time I thought school was a waste of time.

Sorry, sir, but it's true. I love reading. I read a lot, and I have a good memory. I remember everything I read. I'm not bragging, honest, I just do. There isn't much we cover in school that I haven't already learned myself from books.

When I was twelve, I asked dad if I could just not bother with school. I preferred to learn things my way anyhow, but dad told me not to be ridiculous. He didn't bother to explain why he thought it was a ridiculous idea. I told my mom how I felt, and asked her to talk to dad for me, and try to get him to see things my way. Mom and I were always close. I could talk to her about anything. She didn't tell me I was being ridiculous. She even agreed that academically I would probably be better off learning from home at my own speed. But she told me something that I didn't really understand at the time. She said that there was a lot of other things we learn in school that have nothing to do with gaining head-knowledge.

I never got the chance to talk to her about that again, because she was killed in an accident a few days later, on holiday. So I was left to try and work out on my own what she meant by other things.

I guess Scott would have understood what she meant by it, and very likely Gordon would have as well, young as he was…is. But being a loner, I kept my worries to myself, and said nothing more to dad or my brothers.

I learned in the end, through personal experience.

The first time I realised that there was something huge that I was missing was when I watched my younger brother Virgil walk up to a group of kids from my year and start chatting to them. Soon they were all laughing together, then they all went off to play ball in the school field. This was Virgil's first day in the high school, and he didn't know any of them. What did he find to say to them? How come he could go off and play ball straight off? When I went up to them myself later and tried to join in their conversation, they called me a rude name, knocked me onto my butt, and walked away laughing at me.

That was the start of a few weeks of pain as I started to get picked on and bullied. It was never physical pain…really…more psychological bullying and exclusion, which hurt more than I ever expected. It was then I remembered what my mom had said to me. School can teach us more than just head-knowledge.

I had to sit down and do some thinking. I couldn't find an answer in any of my books, so I asked myself what Virgil had that I didn't, or rather, what was it about me that made me different from my brothers? None of them were ever bullied. They all got on well with all the other kids.

It took me a while to work it out. It was Gordon who helped me in the end. He was only nine years old at the time, but he one day asked me outright why I had chosen a seat alone at the front of the school-bus, rather than joining my classmates at the back?

I don't remember giving him an answer at the time, but he made me think about my whole attitude towards school. I viewed it as a chore, something I hated, and the other kids as noisy and boisterous who kept getting in the way of me reading my latest book or novel.

I realised then that the other kids were having a ball! I was not. I was consumed with reading and learning so much that I had forgotten how to play. Even at home I had gotten myself into the habit of reading whilst my brothers had fun playing games around me.

I decided then and there that things had to change. I started at home first, because I knew I could always count on my brothers never to laugh at me or exclude me. I put my books away and started to join in their games. I had fun.

I started to volunteer at school for extra activities. Like the Laughing Club. I spoke to a teacher about starting a laughing club for any kids who were sad, or who just felt like they wanted a good laugh. The teacher agreed and I was surprised how many came. We all just sat around in a circle facing one another and started to laugh. At first it was all fake laughter of course, but quickly the laughter became real laughter. Each club meeting, we would all sit and cry with laughter for half an hour, and leave feeling on top of the world.

The word about the Laughing Club soon got around and membership grew so much we had to use the large gym to hold our meetings. When it got around that the idea for the club was mine, I found myself respected a lot more. People started to listen when I spoke, they included me in their games. Before the year was out, I no longer wanted to read in school.

I was having far too much fun playing with my friends.

I wish my mom could have lived to see it happen. I really would love to tell her in person:

"Thanks mom…you were right!"