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Making Allowances
Chapter 5, Part 2
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“ So you’re leaving school?”
he opened, “Another great idea; that makes a lot of sense.” sighed and tried to remonstrate,
”Dad..” He continued, “Listen pal, you are
only hanging in there by a whisker, and you’ve got your mother and your
grandfather to thank for that. I don’t know what your problem is, mister, but
you’ve got a lot of growing up to do.” “That’s not fair!” I insisted.
“I think I’ve grown up plenty since your accident. I had to stop being a boy
that very day, because I didn’t know if you were going to make it. I was
worried about you, I spent months worrying. Not once did I complain or react. I behaved like a bloody saint for
two years. For once in my life I go off and do something you don’t like and
now I’m treated like a pariah. What a hypocrite!” Dad just pouted and shook his head. “You think you’re ready to take
on the world. Your first two choices have been a complete
disaster. You get one little set
back and you’ve gone to pieces. You’re a loose
cannon pal. “ “B*****ks.” “But look at yourself! So you got bad grades, see, you’re acting like a spoilt
kid, the grades aren’t even real. And how do you
react ? Not only do you come home roaring drunk, upset your mother and granddad,
wake up the baby, puke up in the kitchen, IN MY HOUSE! But then, you announce
that you’re leaving school because some teacher doesn’t happen to think that
you are as great as you like to think, and how do you react, you bloody run away
like a coward. Very big of you, you must be very proud.” He turned to go, then turned back,
as if he had remembered something. “What if something like this
happened to you at work? Or when you have a family of your own? Where would you
run? Where would you hide? Don’t come running to me, because I can’t stand
quitters.” “You’ve hidden in your hobby
long enough,” I began. He turned, and just to look at his
angry scowl, I realised that it
would not be wise to carry on. I held up my hands…”Sorry..” He didn’t react. He just walked
away, some twenty yards. He turned around again. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift
home. Spare me the histrionics and the martyrdom.” Slowly, I followed. At least there
might be a chance to patch this rift up, and I felt that it would be unwise to
push him any further. When the car pulled out onto the
main road, Dad, as I expected, resumed the debate. Now, though, the vitriol had been
replaced with a calmer search for reasons. “I can’t understand it. A
teacher gives you a bad grade and you react like this. It’s completely out of
proportion. I can’t see what the big deal is, I certainly can’t see why you
suddenly want to leave school. You’ve only got four months until your exams,
for Christ’s sake.” “That’s not the point.” I
replied. “Well what is the point?” “ The point is,” I began,
“that nobody is going to want to give a place on an English course or a
Journalism course to a guy who stands a good chance of failing the exam. It’s like everything I was working
towards has been ruined.” “Yeah but it’s only his
opinion.” dismissed Dad. “Oh yeah, but, like, the thing is
Dad, he is the English Teacher, so you’d think he would know, wouldn’t you.
I can’t see the School employing him if they didn’t think he was that bad a
judge of someone’s ability.” Dad thought about this for a moment,
and then delivered the message that changed my whole life and in many ways, set
the stall out for the rest of his: “The thing is, sometimes you have
to fly in the face of opinion. People can be wrong. People are wrong all the time. How
do you think discoveries are made? Progress can only be made through mistakes,
trial and error, call it what you want. If everything was that cut and dried,
all the favourites would win all the time, wouldn’t they. It’d be pointless
having a Football League, they could just award Liverpool the title have the
whole season off and have a ceremony at Anfield in May. (At the time, the
relentless march of the Red Machine meant that titles were, virtually, a
foregone conclusion). I’m not saying this bloke is right
or wrong, it doesn’t make that much difference. What is important is how much you
believe in you. How much would you bet on yourself? Look at it this way. I know
you are a winner. You work hard, you know your stuff, you’ve had A Grades
before and you’ve won competitions and all sorts. You’re well-liked, you express
yourself well, you are a winner. Your Teacher, we’ll call him the bookie;
he’s offering quite long odds for you to pull this one off, you’re drifting
at 33-1 mate. Now, I tell you this, I’ll have some of that. If you were a
horse, I’d be sticking some serious cash down on you. I believe in you.” And I had no reason to doubt him. After a pause, I decided to try
again. “Dad, I’m really sorry about the
things I said. I was p****d and I was angry and I said a lot of things I
didn’t really mean.” “Some of the things you said were right. I have been
a bit selfish, but it’s my dream, my passion. This is all I have left, this is
who I am. Not much is it? Here I am, back from Death’s Door, talking about
getting my licence back. Gotta be bloody crackers really. But there it is, this
is who I am. I still believe in me. I know I am a good jockey. I know the lads
in the pub all have a laugh about my falls and that, but if I had had the
opportunity to ride something a bit decent, things would have been so
different.” I nodded, “Grandad said that, he said you rode too much bloody
rubbish.” “He’s right, he’s quite right,” Dad agreed. “ I still
believe in me, and you have to do the same.” He went on. “Let’s look at the other option.
You get a job. You go out to work. You see boys of your age earning £130, £140 a week
and life’s looking good for them and God bless ‘em,
good luck to them. But the chances are, they may never get to see anything other
than their home town, same old pubs, same old scene, they could be shacked up
with a couple of kids by the time they’re 25. They’ve hit the ceiling now,
it won’t get any better than it is right now for some of those lads. You have been very fortunate, you
have been blessed with a bit of ‘savvy’. For you, things could be very
different. Qualifications bring choices, not always, but very often, choices
bring freedom, freedom means happiness, a quality of life. It is so close now,
you can almost touch it. Please, if you never ever take another piece of advice
from me, then take this one. Don’t leave school. Sit it out, take your exams.
If you fail, go back next year and sit ‘em again. We’ll look after you. Get
those exams, give your dreams a chance. Leave now, and they’ll be gone
forever, but if your heart is set on leaving, then you didn’t deserve to dream
them in the first place, and you’re not the man I thought you were.” We reached home. Dad said no more. On the Monday morning, I went to
school as usual.
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If you would like to contact Richie, please email him at: richie@baylands.fsnet.co.uk
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