"She's in love, and the world gets blurry
She makes mistakes, and she's in no hurry to grow up
'Cause grownups, they don't understand her
Well it's a big, big world out there, but she's not scared...
She finds hope in the strangest places
She reads her books, and she knows the faces
Of everyone that ever said she's alone
She knows every word to the saddest songs
And she sings along, though her friends all tell her
That she can't sing...
She's eighteen, much too young
To know what a kiss like that would mean
But her lips, they were no stranger to the touch
And she likes it way too much."
--Mayday Parade, So Far Away

Saturday, September 30, 2006

As requested... lol.

At the request of a fellow blogger, I'd like to take this time to discuss a certain teacher of mine who had an intense influence on the way I think today. Not only because he requested it, but because I'm thinking about thinking and it's making my head hurt, so I want to type it out.

All too often, teachers are useless. They spend more time teaching students worthless information that simply goes through my head, instead of teaching us life.

That should be a class. Life.

Well, we came pretty damn close in my eighth grade SAGE history class. It wasn't history (well, it was, but whatever). It was more. We were expected to actually use our brains, instead of just writing boring dates on paper. I learned a lot about the real world, and the areas of study that I was once blind to are now clear.

He told us what it meant to be abused by government, and how to live in reality. I'm sick of teachers telling kids a bunch of lies about happy little politicians that prance around and write constitutions in their spare time. They also tell us that dreams always come true, and I can tell you firsthand that they don't. If they did, I'd be living in a much bigger house in a different country and not attending school...

Anyway, Life. It should be a class. Mr. C, keep it up. Teach them Life. Teach those blind little junior high kids Life. They need it. I did, and I'm glad today I know how to think the way I do.

Thinking about thinking. It's what I love to do. I think of how I think of how I think. Wow. My mind hurts. That could be from the music I'm blaring, though.

I've said enough, don't you think? But then again, if I typed everything that ran through my head, you'd be reading for a century or two...

Here's to the truth
Abigail<3

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Good students make good teachers also.