Decisions, decisions....

I was doing a class with my nice but dim group yesterday. I was teaching the third conditional and grammar relating to hypothesising about the past, stuff like �If Kennedy hadn�t gone to Dallas, perhaps he wouldn�t have been assassinated�, as if my Chinese, Japanese and Korean students knew or cared who Kennedy was. One exercise was relating to what would or wouldn�t happen now if we had or had not done something in the past, e.g. I wouldn�t know Haruko now if I hadn�t come to the UK, et cetera. While they got on with the exercise, I reflected on the decisions I have made in life, and which ones have led me to be right here, right now. Not instinctive, make or break stuff, but hard thought out ones. Now, I could count on my decision to accept a full-time post at the college; going further back, there�s the conclusion that I had to return to the UK, or even further, becoming a teacher in the first place. I followed the skein of decisions backwards, a pale line into the past, and whichever angle I came from, I arrived in the same place.

I was just over eleven years old.

It was spring term at my primary school: In fact, it was almost certainly at this time of year, when warm sun struggles with blustery wind and sudden rain. We�re talking a quarter of a century ago, which is really rather scary. My parents, my teacher (Mr. Jenkins, who wore a green corduroy jacket, had greased back hair and a booming voice, and smelt strange) and I were gathered to make a decision on my future. I had the opportunity to go to Reading Grammar school, in the middle of town, or go to Highdown, the local comprehensive about 200 metres up the road from me. I had done well in my exams � in fact, I had one of the best exam records in the county. All I had to do was sit a simple test and go for a basic interview. My elders clearly all wanted me to go, but my parents said, �It�s your decision�. As ever, they trusted me with a degree of responsibility over myself.

I thought it over.

Before I tell you my decision, can you guess? And do you think my parents should have pressured me to go to Reading, which regularly appears in the top five of lists of best schools in the country? Perhaps they should have coerced me more, saying �This decision is ours. You�re going there.� Sure, I�d probably have resented them for making me do something, but on reflection I�d be grateful, no?

I made up my mind.

I plumped for Highdown, the local comprehensive.

My reasons?

First, it was local; I wouldn�t have to do any travelling. Secondly, I was familiar with the area and the people � most of my peers, the kids I�d grown up with, would be going there. I would know hardly anyone at Reading. Familiarity with a situation, no matter how bad, is a powerful incentive, rather than take a leap into the unknown.

The main reason, however, the one that I gave to my family, was this: Reading Grammar did sports on Saturday mornings. I hated sports, and I certainly hated the idea of travelling halfway across the town on a Saturday morning just to miserably knock a muddy football around.

Now, I think, what if? What if I�d gone, where would that have led me? Don�t get me wrong, dear reader: I don�t usually indulge in speculating about the past, or past regrets: the moment has gone for good, and there�s no use whining about it. But I�m pretty sure my life would have been spectacularly different had I gone there.

Then again, I wouldn�t have what I have now, namely my beautiful wife and my fantastic son. Or thousands of pounds worth of debt.

We are who, what, and where we are largely due to the choices and decisions that we make, not anyone else. I�m still an EFL teacher because I like the job and I�m familiar with it, despite my horrible financial circumstances. I know I have to make a transition, but to what? In effect, I am manipulating my own situation, and I have noone else to blame other than myself.

Freedom of choice is a great thing, but there are times when it might be better if others make the choices for you.

I like to think that, somewhere in an alternate universe, there is another me, speculating what would have happened had he chosen to go to Highdown.

I bet the bastard is loaded.