I  in my teens thought going into social work had a cool fit.   I was fourteen.  Being sent to special Ed in the third or fourth grade might have gave me the reason to decide on it.     My antics in class were disrupting the lessons in the classroom.   Answering the teacher but not raising my hand was another thing.  The actions of then by me were hitting others.  Yelling ,  joking and joking more.  Tossing crumpled papers.  I saw the school nurse  about once a week.  My stomach ached me.    I  then saw the principal.  Then, I went home.    In the six , seventh , and eighth grades I reintegrated into    * normal school.  When I graduated and chose to go to my hometown,s high school.  I still liked the idea to enter social work.   Only I did not look into any ways to follow through on it at all.  I followed the crowd in the circles  on the high schools back lawn.  Of reefer gladness.  I  would put it this way.  I  swapped then and there for instant gratification , rather than instead the sort of assignment of fully figuring how to self design my future life.  So that left me hanging in a limbo of a drifting type.  Or life happening to me with a steady  smaller amount of my own inputs into it. Life has been said to be what you make of it.  I detoured myself by  those high levels of toking.  It distracted me in it,s forms that a psychoactive substance is made for doing.  I seemed to enjoy having some pot enough squeeze out consideration of negative consequences of smoking it.  I now know it is a not alright for me to do.  There is a good and a bad.  The good is if I,d deeply want to social work can be gave a first start even after a extra long long delay.