I had a happy childhood from which I did not seek escape. I was, however, a fat, uncoordinated only child. I did play with the kids in the neighbourhood, but I wasn't good at sports. My parents, neither of whom had gone past grade 8, bought me books and read to me most nights before bed. Both my mother and father could often be found reading books and newspapers. I realize now it was not highbrow literature, but it didn't matter; I got the idea that reading is just something you do for fun. By the time I started kindergarten I knew the alphabet, could write my name, and could read a tiny bit. During those early school years, my father worked for the board of education, travelling to various schools. Whenever the schools were throwing away old reading texts, he'd bring me home copies. I often had copies of the readers that I'd be using in subsequent grades (though earlier editions). Consequently, I did very well in all the reading related stuff.
Now math...
