My Story: Part 2 - The School Years

Part 1: http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/6/163998/1.ashx

Part 2 – The School Years

The years from 6 to 10 were fairly uneventful for me as a young Jehovah’s Witness. I was too young to understand much of what went on at the meetings. My father was inactive and so my mother would walk to the hall with me and my siblings in tow. A sister in our hall studied with me for about a year but she dropped out of the truth. I knew about some of the beliefs and rules of Jehovah’s Witnesses but didn’t really understand how they arrived at them.

For some unknown reason, my parents decided to celebrate my birthday when I was six years old. It was the first and last birthday I would have for the next 25 years. My parents bought me an electronic game and my mother baked a chocolate cake with a clock face on – six o’clock. Later that year, our family participated in Bonfire Night on 25 November. We didn’t have a bonfire but my father bought some cool fireworks and we watched them go off in our back garden. I remember holding my first sparkler. Looking back now, I suspect that they didn’t want me to feel as if I missed out.

At this young age, all I did was go to the hall and leave. As my father was inactive and my mother suffered with ill health, we didn’t go out on field service at all. Thus, I never learnt to say those words that would identify me as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. At the age of 11 my father started going to meetings but we still didn’t go out in field service until I turned 15.

Saturday mornings were spent watching cartoons instead of handing out Awake & Watchtower magazines to the public. When my youngest sister was old enough, my mother would take her to dance school. It seemed to last for hours even though it was just one hour long. After that we would go the local second hand bookshop where my mother would take us. This was where I developed my love for reading and “The Hardy Boys” mysteries.

During my elementary years, all the Witnesses in my school had their own assembly run by Witness mums which was separate from everyone else. As mentioned in Part 1, school assemblies in the U.K. took place every other day and might include things that a Witness would reject such as hymns, Christmas carols and prayers.

Because there were so many witness kids in my hall, I didn’t feel too embarrassed or awkward about being different. There were times though that I just wished a hole in the floor would open up and swallow me. Whenever it was some kid’s birthday in my class, the teacher would get everyone to sing “Happy Birthday” – I of course said nothing and sat at the back while the festivities commenced. I could not understand what was so wrong with birthdays especially as it was meant to be a happy occasion.

Throughout the years I spent many occasions “sitting at the back” watching life go by while mine stood still.

When I started to attend secondary school in 1987 life only got harder for me as a Jehovah’s Witness. For starters, I was the only brother in the entire school! The very few witness kids who attened were sisters. This time there were no substitute assemblies organised by witness parents. I had to sit at the back of the assembly hall with the other witness sisters who rarely spoke to me. I never even had the relief of being in the back row because by the time we were 10 minutes into the assembly, I would be the fourth row from the back due to all the latecomers. Every time a prayer was said, I and the other witness kids would have to walk outside the door (which was very squeaky) and then back in after the prayer was finished. Everyone at the back looked at us.

One thing that bothered me is knowing that their were witness kids in the years below me that DIDN'T leave the assembly hall because of a prayer, yet somehow they were considered in good standing.

I got bullied a lot for being a Jehovah’s Witness – I was so glad that I didn’t go out in service at this time. My mother who was also raised "in the truth" was bullied at school for being a “Jo Jo” as she was called then. Girls would wait for her after school and pull her hair out. I was simply carrying the Witness torch of persecution.

I suffered with depression all throughout high school. It was simply horrible. Because of the intense bullying I didn’t bother to behave or study well. I remember waiting nervously as I heard the footsteps of my parents approach the door after they had come back from yet another disastrous parent’s evening.

No one ever wanted to work with me in any of the classes I had. I missed an entire term of drama lessons when I was 12 because I couldn’t stand to be ignored. My drama teacher didn’t even bother to make enquiries. I would hide in the library upstairs and pass the time reading. For some unknown reason, none of my drama class paid much attention to my absence.

It was the same with my PSE class (Personal and Social Education) – I began to skip lessons because of the bullying. My teacher knew what was going on but did not offer any kind of help or assistance. I was placed on report for two weeks – this meant I had to get every teacher to sign a report saying I had attended lessons for those two weeks.

Even my tutor discriminated against me. We had to cover our exercise books to make them last longer. He muttered something under his breath which suggesting I cover my books with Watchtower and Awake magazines.

I was threatened with expulsion twice for misbehavior but managed to get the head teacher to give me another chance. I pulled my socks up in my last year and managed to obtain four GCSE passes. The bullying did not end until after I graduated. To this day, it is painful to remember those years.

I saw a child psychologist at the school. He asked me if being a witness was making me miserable and I said yes. Nothing ever came of that visit.

Even my career counselor knew there was something wrong and tactfully asked if I was bullied for being a Jehovah’s Witness. There was not much the school could do. You can’t force classmates to work with you or partner up if they don’t like you because of your religion.

I was always in trouble at home with my parents and I had no friends my own age inside the congregation or outside of it. I don’t know how they put up with me for so long, but I am glad they did.

During my teen years, I did things that most kids do – I tried smoking at 13 and used to buy cheap bottles of Shandy and drink that on the way to school. I would also drain any bottles of wine my father brought which ended up with him marking the wine level. I shoplifted a few times and got away with it. Girls – well, that was a no no and whenever they would call for me at my house my mother’s glare was enough to make them never come back again.

I didn’t see a good future for myself and my parents would remind me “when you leave school you can get a job at the local supermarket and get your own place.” Some career prospects after 11 years at school.

It was only when a local elder in my hall invited me out in field service, which I accepted, that things were about to change. I was 15 years old at the time. Although I had gone out preaching very few times prior to this, I was both nervous and excited. I was in my last year of school, studying for my GCSE’s and didn’t have a clue what I was going to do with my life. The only publication the Society had for the youth was the “Young People Ask” book. The old red “Youth” book was outdated and didn’t really help me. I remember the convention where the Society released that book – Southampton 1989. The speaker asked everyone between the ages of 12 and 19 to sit up in the top section. I was so excited to get my very own copy of that marvelous blue book which seemed to talk to me as I flipped through the chapters.

The elder who invited me out in field service asked me a strange question. “Do you want to be trained?” he asks. I cannot reveal anything about this brother except to say that at one time he served Queen and country.

“Yes,” I said – and that was the beginning of my path to becoming a baptized member of Jehovah’s Witnesses…

My Story: Part 2 - The School Years

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milliemootoo

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