Given that Nature and Nurture are equal components of the Scottish government’s curriculum for excellence, it is essential not to forget my pre-medulloblastoma diagnosis years. Of which there were four. I was born on Saturday, May 7, 1983, at 23:00 in Glasgow Royal Maternity Hospital. Unknowing to me then, I would spend the majority of my childhood and most of my teen/early adulthood in a hospital, mainly as a day patient. By now, the reader should understand my medical history from reading chapter two. I did not say I buy from third parties regarding contemporary sensory issues in Chapter Two. That is, I purchase hearing aids and glasses from retail stores. My contact with the NHS is an annual phone call.
My parents and I lived on Walter Street in Glasgow. Walter Street is located in Glasgow’s East end in Haghill. The Scottish Index for Multiple Deprivation (SIMD) shows that Haghill is deprived of health, education, income, employment, and housing and is a high-crime area. What Haghill has got is access to public transport. At least citizens of Haghill have public transport to Merchant City East – known to locals as Dennistoun. My parents and I did not stay in Haghill long; we moved to Ballindalloch Drive, just off Alexandra Parade, when the local housing association offered to buy my parents and my first home.
Despite what the SIMD show about Haghill. It cannot remove the nurture of the community. My parents’ nature and the community’s nurture created the confident, outgoing child I was. The new flat at 28 Ballindalloch Drive was a top flat. It had a kitchen, bathroom, and separate bedrooms, unlike Walter Street at the time. However, there was no lift. I propose a motion. Every newly built multi-story flat above two floors must have an elevator (for my USA readers). The lack of a lift was why the family moved to 22 Ballindalloch Drive some years later. I’ll discuss that in chapter seven. The story about that can be found in the UK Parliament Library.
Despite resistance from the local school headteacher, I attended Alexandra Parade Primary School only months after the removal of the medulloblastoma, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and stroke. Even as a four/five-year-old, I refused to take NO for an answer. From TikTok, I’ve learned that is a characteristic of people with Brain Tumours. No does not mean no—no means YES, but in my way. As expressed above, I was a bright child. The academic curriculum of primary 1 to 3 was not challenging. I strolled into primary four without difficulty. Well, there was one issue, not academic but physical. I could not tie my laces. I don’t know when I learned to tie my laces, but it was later than most of my classmates. In hindsight, this was when my primary school education was about to take a few bumps in the road.
Chapter six is titled “Do I consider myself disabled today?” I provide details on the nature of my physical limitations in that chapter. Those physical limitations contributed to my learning disabilities problems. At the time of writing, my education issues are not defined as learning disabilities. Hopefully, the learning disabilities, autism, and neurodiversity (Scotland) Act 2026 will correct a wrong and help support citizens with brain tumours.
As I reminisce back to my primary 4-7 years equipped with a BA (Hons) and an MSc as of 2024, blaming Chemo brain – as discussed in chapter two, would be too convenient to explain my poor academic performance. I propose that the educational system between 1992-95 was unequipped to educate a child recovering from a medulloblastoma. Is the educational system equipped to deal with an equivalent conundrum in 2024? I am not too sure in which primary I was tested for Dyslexia – difficulty reading due to problems identifying speech sounds and learning how they relate to letters and words. The outcome of the Dyslexia test was negative, as I could verbally spell the word. However, I could not write the word on paper.
Primary school is a blur. I have no vivid memory of those years. I remember silly things like finding a hedgehog while construction of the M8 Junction at Alexandra Park Street was in place. Or I was getting attacked by random cats for wearing a shell suit. It was the late 80s and early 90s. I still believed the World Wrestling Federation (WWF/WWE) was a combat sport. Apparently, I also let Sharon and Searha let me believe stray cats should be cradled like newborn babies. No judgments. That was the Nurture of my childhood.
I commenced secondary school in 1995 – Whitehill Secondary. Even then, I preferred my company to that of my classmates. It would not be inappropriate to say I prefer the company of animals over humans—even hedgehogs and cats.
Whitehill was more equipped to attend to my educational needs. I was provided with a laptop to help with spelling and grammar. I achieved acceptable standard grade results—grades 3 and 4 in all classes except French. I struggled with English. What chance did I have with French?
Above, I said I was tested for Dyslexia at primary school. There must have been a misconception from Whitehill’s English department that the results of the Dyslexia test were positive. I was discouraged from reading long books when writing a book review. Even at Whitehill, I was written off. I was written off not because teachers wanted me to fail but because there was no framework for teaching childhood medulloblastoma survivors. In 2024, I am not convinced Getting it Right for Every Child – the Scottish Government’s approach to supporting children and young people would have provided the support I required.
At Whitehill’s awards ceremony in 1998, I was awarded the leaps and bounds prize – for the student who had made the most progress. Take a second to process the date. I was diagnosed with a medulloblastoma in 1987. Either It took ten years for the brain to develop after the removal of the brain tumour, or the introduction of the internet into Scottish society provided the opportunity to learn in a way my brain required, i.e. for words to be verbally repeated back to me and corrected in real-time. Possibly both.
The following year, I had an attendance rate of 97 per cent. Perhaps there is something in peer-to-peer support and social capital, after all.
The 2000/01 year was a wasted year. I was accepted into Glasgow College of Building and Printing for my HND in March of 2001. I did not want to be a Whitehill in the last few months. Graduation on June 14, 2001, could not come quickly enough.
I enjoyed my time at the Glasgow building and printing. It is a shame to see that in 2024, the building is a shell of its former self. Hopefully, by the time this book is published, the building will operate as new flats and office space. I was in the building on September 11, 2001 – for Dugs Data Analysis and Database Design class. I remember Grant- a fellow student. Grant was one of the older guys, a grungy rocker who should have been studying music technology, not information and media technology. He must have been watching a news stream. Grant’s words evade me; I remember Dug running to the monitor to view images of the Twin Towers being hit.
I was in New York, attending Hole in the Wall Gang Camp – a children’s camp for seriously ill children and their families when I was 14 years old in 1997. I was only in Manhattan for three days. However, I must have walked past the Twin Towers. I am also sure our party of four or five seriously ill children and two adult social workers were admitted to Hard Rock café – in New York, with the only other customers being Michael Lee Aday, his wife, and their daughter.
Years later, in 2018, I was in South Africa, volunteering with Global Vision International. On one weekend off, I visited the District Six Museum. On the wall is this quote
“It struck me that our history is contained in the homes we live in, that we are shaped by the ability of these simple structures to resist being defiled.”
Achmat Dangor
Our history is not only contained in the homes we live in. It is also contained in the educational establishments we attend. That is why I get chills every time I walk past the Building and Printing structure where I once bought my first zip drive. Yes, I am that old.
After completing my HND, I attended Glasgow Caledonian University for a BSc in Multimedia Technology. I dropped out after one year, gaining a BSc in Multimedia Technology. At the time, I was more interested in hardware, or so I thought. Looking back, I was just a bad coder. I graduated in 2005 and did not return to higher education until 2014.
The return to higher education in 2014 was strategic. I joined the SNP in 2007, and as of 2014, I was still an active member. More about that in Chapter 3 – employment. The Open University (OU) allowed me to work and learn simultaneously. Politics, Philosophy, and Economics. What else would I have chosen to study? Reminiscing the OU provides students with the foundation to proceed in the higher educational journey. Each level and each course is designed to enable students to develop the skills required for incremental progression. For example, “Making Social Lives” and “Exploring Social Lives” were simplistic content for a ten-year experienced political campaigner and not academically challenging. With hindsight, the point of those modules was to instruct students in the academic writing process—a skill I was required to learn years later. The lesson learned was to learn to walk before you run.
I graduated from the OU in 2019 with a BA (Hons) PPE. Back to GCU, this time to study Social Innovation. Remember I said I had not learned to write academically in 2014? In 2021, I still had much to learn about academic writing. On reflection, I was accepted into the class because of my unpaid experience in Scotland’s third sector, not my academic achievements. After a resit or two, I was allowed to complete my dissertation. My dissertation question answered, “Why is there a subjective well-being premium in voluntary sector employment?”
I completed my dissertation thanks to my supervisor, Dr Tom Montgomery. I graduated from GCU in 2021 with an MSc in Social Innovation.
Social Innovation is business ethics. At least, that is how I view it.
Note that this is NOT a blog post. Like the other writings, it is a rough draft of the book I want to write.
David M Howie 