Beware The Spaceman

Author: Barry Gibbons

  • Award Season II: English Trophy

    Presented by: Darren Bett (Weatherman), about 2000ish, at School Awards Evening To make us feel more special than we already did, my School hosted an awards evening for the year that just left. Which was hosted by none other than TV weatherman Darren Bett, who I’m sure used to be called Betts but that’s another story. The event was also photographed and appeared in the local newspaper so we felt like minor celebrities by the end of the week.

    We were constantly fed a diet of “you’re the best yeargroup this school has ever had” and “you can do anything you set your mind to”. This was the latter part of the 90s and flattery was the order of the day, heap the child with enough praise and they might just fly the nest. Going to college was almost a given, and from there the Universities were waiting to grab their money’s worth out of you. It didn’t really matter if you had a plan for what you were going to do with your life, just get as good of a qualification as you could.

    I never did anything useful with my degree despite my best efforts. There is an old proverb “Man plans, God laughs”. Life has a twisted sense of humour and that’s where we draw full circle back to the Awards’ Ceremony. Dressed in my best blue jumper, it wasn’t a suit and tie event. Once again this was the millennium and it was smart casual attire. We sat in the main hall, facing the stage on tiered seating brought out specially for the event.

    I really thought I was in the running for an award; remember I had been stuffed with all these praises – even though I was an average student at best. It amazes me looking back that my Autism wasn’t picked up as a child, all the clues were there.

    History was and still is my favourite subject, so out of all the subjects I was ‘entered in’ this was the one I thought that I would possibly get an award in. I was wrong.

    At the end of Primary School I had to sit an 11+ exam, which I passed with flying colours, but the closest secondary school was a comprehensive who took in everyone anyway. By the time I took my SATs in Year 9, my performance had plummeted.

    Secondary school was a very difficult experience for me, I didn’t fit in there. Also I was terrified of my family finding out that I was struggling with my homework. My solution was to do as much as I could at School and then make excuses for what I couldn’t get done. This approach severely damaged my learning and my grades, it was and is a terrible idea.

    The subject that suffered the most was English. I really enjoyed writing, but my spelling was poor and my grammar was worse. When it came to literature, I couldn’t get my head around literary criticism, I treated everything at face value. For this reason I started in the lowest set for English heading into Year 10. This meant that the highest grade I could get was a C, which was also the pass mark. Even then it was going to take a monumental effort to get there.

    My mother, who was a teacher at another school, did extra work with me at home using phonetic spelling books. The head of English and my form tutor, also took me aside for extra lessons during break times. An eccentric man, foreboding and genius at the same time – it seemed he was more suited for the stage than a comprehensive school. With all the effort that was put in the result was a C in Language and a D in Literature. Which was good enough to get into college, where I was able to study the Sciences and History.

    English was the worst of my grades, the best being an A* in Dual Award Science.

    Therefore it seemed a twisted sense of irony that it was the English Trophy I was awarded at the ceremony. I couldn’t understand why I’d been awarded for my worst result. It is only while writing this that I’ve come to realise that the grade was not the result. The result was achieving a pass from such a low starting point. That is what I was awarded for, not a C Grade. Sadly, you only got the Trophy for a year – but at least I have the newspaper clipping of me holding it standing next to the now BBC lead weather presenter Darren Bett(s).

    .

  • Award Season I: A Chief Scouts Award


    Presented by: Sir John Mason MP, in the late 1990s, at an awards evening.

    For those who don’t know, the Chief Scout’s Award was the highest achievement in Scouting at the time. Oh and I should introduce myself – I’m Barry and I’m living with Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease (Type II). The special painkillers I take have a couple of side effects, tiredness & memory loss. Sadly, this has left gaps in my recollections. So any story I tell should be taken with a pinch of salt.

    Despite being in Scouting for over a decade and going on countless camps, I never felt that I truly earnt that award. In order to get it, you had to fill in the various pages of the Scout Book, an A6 sized pocket book with a green & gold cover. It was simple and elegant, when a task had been completed it was recorded in the book. Complete enough tasks and the badge was awarded. Each badge had its unique design & place on the uniform. In the end, get enough badges, and your uniform resembles a patchwork quilt.

    When it came to the Chief Scout’s Award I was already nearing the end of my tenure in Scouting. I had become the Senior Patrol Leader for the Troop, whose numbers had dwindled to just three. It felt like the award was almost given to me because of my years of service, rather than something I actively earnt. Half of the activities were ticked off retrospectively. It left very few tasks to be completed for the badge and none of them were very taxing.

    By the time the paperwork had been completed, I already had one foot out of the door. It was decided that I wouldn’t continue into Venture Scouts, they met too far away and were significantly older than me. They did more adult activities. This award ceremony was to be my swan song. Scouting had been my life for most of my life at this point and now it was over.

    This was a bittersweet moment, a recognition of the pinnacle of my achievement. There was continuity too, because I had already achieved the highest awards in Beavers & Cubs. Yet there was to be no more, and I was bitter about that. The highest achievement, had just been handed to me – both physically and metaphorically. I still remember the underwhelming feeling of Sir John putting that badge in my hand. Someone I had no knowledge of at the time. I was just one of many getting an award that night, it didn’t feel special enough.

    Then when it did come to my final day Scouting, there was no pomp or ceremony. It was the lesson that I needed to learn. I always felt that I was “special”, deserving of the adoration of others. I based my self worth on the opinions of others, and measured it in achievements. Retrospectively I understand why and don’t think badly of myself but it’s not me anymore.

    Being Autistic I have had to learn things about myself and the world that perhaps others take for granted. The only meaning that awards have are the ones that we ourselves ascribe to them. Awards are not qualifications. I’m still learning, still yearning for a sense of achievement; but occasionally I have a moment of clarity that it is better to live the moment than treat it as a task which might lead to a future reward.