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I knew I had to find my own way of teaching.

After about six months, I told my mother that I wanted the lessons to stop, and she was intelligent enough not to force me to continue. Besides, the lessons cost money, which was anything but abundant in our household.

I always wanted to teach.

I was accorded the opportunity to learn by failing - albeit at the cost of a few honourable teachers' sanity - and now I realise what a rare and incredible luxury that is.

I didn't want to teach. I wanted to act. It was quite a long and difficult road to get there but very thrilling when I did.

I had a lot of growing up to do. A lot of times, I learned the hard way.

I was learning things in school rather than learning how to teach myself, which is what you have to do in life, so I just abandoned it and did ceramics for a year and a half.

When I was eight years old, I got a dummy for Christmas and started teaching myself. I got books and records and sat in front of the bathroom mirror, practising. I did my first show in the third grade and just kept going; there was no reason to quit.

I felt the need to unlearn my formal education.