Ich bin nicht faul, Herr Porzig!!

In grade school and in high school, my teachers regularly complained to my parents that I "did not participate", did not do my work, came to class unprepared, and did not perform to potential.

Sometimes when I did "participate" or try to perform to "my potential", I was told that I should sit down and shut up because I wanted to talk about something that was not under discussion at the moment. On one occasion, a nun told me that I was wrong about something, and, when I looked it up in a dictionary and tried to show her that I was right, she refused to admit that I had been right and she had been wrong.

I learned that I was smart but not very good at learning, at least not in a classroom setting. I learned that most people did not want to hear what I had to say, especially if I was right.

I also figured out that I wasn't the usual student.

Eventually, I wound up in the army and they decided that I was smart enough to go to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California to learn German (1966-67). It was great being in Monterey, but the learning part was hell. I managed to get through, but was lousy at German. Just barely passed.

One German instructor, Herr Porzig, a one-armed Prussian, often said to me, "Du bist faul, Herr Baldwin. Du bist faul." when I did not have my assignments memorized to his level of expectations.

I don't know what I could have done if things had turned out differently, but I do know that a few days ago, a doctor diagnosed me, at age 65, as having ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, a condition which can cause great difficulties in learning. It can be traced back to my childhood, and I have wondered for years but never discussed it with a professional.

I just assumed that everybody was right...I was a dreamer and somehow just lazy, even tho' I have received several awards for my actions over the years.

The doctor put me on a low dose of medication (Adderall) for ADHD, and I have noticed almost immediately that my mind is clearer and my reaction to life is more definite and certain.

Herr Porzig died a few years ago, I hear. I wish I could tell him, and several nuns, that maybe I wasn't just lazy.

Recent Diagnosis Explains a Lot

I have been meaning to ask a doctor about a particular condition for years, but always forgot. That was part of the problem. I forgot a lot of things...all my life. I hated being in classrooms even tho' I loved learning. I would zone out of important meetings, even interviews, in just a few minutes. I started project after project and the next day couldn't even remember what I had intended to do.

I once had to explain to my first wife why the garbage can was in the bedroom. I was taking out the garbage and something else captured my attention. I forgot about the garbage can until she brought it to my attention!

Long talk with the Doctor, tentative diagnosis...ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). She started me on Adderall. I began with the first dose yesterday. It took a few hours, but, for most of the day, I felt more awake, aware, alert....and focused, than I could remember ever being, at least consistenly, since first grade.

Wish I could have gone through grade school, high school, and college feeling like this (took my second dose about an hour ago). I probably would have graduated from FSU rather than flunking out due to lack of interest. Well, if that had happened, I would not have met the woman I love. Just wish I could have had both worlds.

My Sister's Grave

I often think of my sister, Katherine Elizabeth Baldwin. I guess that's a little strange because I never met her. She was born prematurely around 1950, and the methods for saving preemies that saved my grandson, Niko, were not available back then.

She was buried in St. John's cemetary in Warrington, Florida, in an unmarked grave, because my parents could not afford a headstone at that time.

I remember visiting the grave a few times with my parents. At first it was easy to find the small, child-sized mound of dirt which marked the spot where she was buried. With time, we had to search the area where we knew the grave to be to find vestiges of her resting place.

Eventually, nature took care of that and her grave could no longer be found.

I have often wondered what it would have meant to have a younger sister.

Being the only boy between two girls might have been a bother, but having someone else to take the heat of being the youngest kid in the family might have had some positive effect. On the other hand, middle kids often feel neglected.

Who's to say.

Anyway, at the age of 65, I miss this sister I never knew who would be about 60 years old herself. It would have been fun to watch her grow up and, at least for a while, be the older brother.

Oh well. Life does not always answer our desires.

However, if she could not live her own life and make her own friends, at least perhaps a few people might read this and know she passed this way. I'm sure she would have been a good sister.