08 September 2006

Education, Schmeducation

I've been trying to put words to my outlook on life lately, paying as little attention as possible to my pessimistic feelings about school, which are as follows:

So I was sitting in my cubicle today, and I realized, ever since I started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the day before it. So that means that every single day that you see me, that's on the worst day of my life.
-Peter Gibbons, Office Space (Wikiquote)

Unfortunately, School, by means of Margaret Mitchell and stoicheometry, has become my entire life. There simply aren't enough hours in a day to perform the tasks issued to us by criminally insane teachers and still maintain a "life."

I've been denying this fact for weeks now, stating that our assigned homework was possible to complete while maintaining mental health. But recent occurances have caused me to reconsider the truth behind this belief.

A week or so ago, I ingested an almost illegal amount of caffiene so that I could comprehend all seventy pages of Gone With the Wind that I had put off until that night. I did it, and went to sleep immediately after I read the last word.

That night, I woke up several times in a caffiene-induced semi-hallucination (if such a term exists). At one point, I recall thinking that I was Rhett Butler, and I wondered aloud as to how I was to ever to cleanse my freshly polished leather boots of the red Atlanta earth. I also, much more disturbingly, awoke to thinking that I was Scarlett O'Hara, and exasperatedly expressed my frustration at having to find a more mournful atire than I already adorned so that I may dispense a socially acceptable amount of greif at Aunt Pittypat's funeral.

And I don't know that Aunt Pittypat even dies in the book!

Such traumatic situations have led me to believe that students are ridiculously over-worked. People aren't meant to wake up in a cold sweat wondering how they are to solve the equation:

Elmer Fudd-Winston Churchill^moveteX; Solve for X

And then, after completing the imposible amounts of homework and enduring countless nights of such ridiculous dreams, students have to succomb to the answer sheet God, rather than accepting correct alternative answers (for example, losing points for writing "uniformity" instead of "conformity" when the hint is "Being the same").

Homework policies are in dire need of reform. Teachers need to get a grip. Students need to sleep more. Maybe then I could rant about something worthwhile.

4 comments:

  1. as herman said, it only gets worse. College means more homework. Only, I guess that it makes more sense as to why you're doing it for the most part.

    ~Robin

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  2. The transitive property:

    I was once a kid, and you are kids, so I was once you

    I hated philosophy, therefore you, toom hate philiosphy

    I am unable to comprehend words such as "blissful" and "grievous, likewise neither can you undestand them. We all prefer "happy" and "sad".

    /end tan

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  3. I post only on this as a sign of trust, dear Mitch. I realize that...perhaps you will leave some secrets go and not read through my blogger. It will save you some grief as to why I don't open up.

    ...and Red Clay isn't that hard to get off. Yes, if it's on white clothes, you're outta luck...but the scent of it after a fresh rain is intoxicating. The feel of Jonesboro beneath your feet is overwhelming. The knowledge that the spirits of the departed still hang around to watch the living---that chills you to the marrow. Remember...that I have walked the hills of Jonesboro. That I have seen the memorials. Remember that there is a reason for you to read Gone with the Wind---to learn of true survival. Remember that there is a reason for everything---to learn from your mistakes and to keep going on. Remember that there is nothing in life you can't handle---otherwise you'd just give up and not take another breath.

    ...and remember I'm here if you just need to rant.

    Yeah. Life is hard. But the alternative sucks.

    Always,
    Sara

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