When I was a kid we moved a lot. I eventually sort-of graduated from the twelfth public school in which I was ever enrolled, so I was always the new kid. You could say I was a bit maladjusted. You could also say an atomic bomb is a bit loud.
Being socially isolated, I read a lot. Which ironically meant I tended to do poorly in school and was also better educated, in a spotty sort of way, than most of my “schoolmates.” For example, I made it a point to never wear green on St. Patrick’s day – because I knew where the tradition came from. Which virtually none of my “schoolmates” did.
In fact, just to be a prick (and even though I couldn’t possibly have cared less about religion, or about Irish history for that matter) I occasionally found some way of wearing orange. All the times I did that, nobody ever got the joke. Not once.