They were fighting in the corridor. And they were both bigger than I was. Sixteen years old, full of testosterone and with minimal self-control.

As the teacher asked the children to sit in a circle at the end of the lesson, I expected that she was about to share her thoughts on how those little buildings should have been made.

As I climbed the steps to the stage, I heard the back-slapping, testosterone brawl of the eighty or so young men who had been cajoled into the auditorium by their teachers.