This has been my first year of truly attempting to keep up in school since I was in grade 2, and without a doubt I can say my time has never been worse spent. Never have I thought highly of school, it always just seemed as though the further we progressed into it, the less time it advocated for us to enjoy the passing of our youth. This blog will give much insight into the mind of what many of you would consider a modern day fuck-up; an idiot in no rush to grow up. Just one of the countless over-educated young minds assured to end up with a dead end job in the future, but to me that is the dream-life. It is not just that I devalue my schooling, or the need to have a job for money to live, it is that my goal in life is to spend the smallest amount of time possible doing non-stimulating work for the benefit of no one.
School was not always something I held disdain towards, you see my disdain for school all started when I was in grade 2. My teacher at the time, who was a sixty-something year old women that drove around in a motorcycle, and weighed in at approximately ninety pounds, occasionally would pick my desk up in front of the class, raise it above her tiny, shriveling body, and throw it across the room. Ultimately her goal was to clear out the contents within my desk, and she was inspired to call this form of child abuse the DTD (dump the desk). What I left out of my earlier description of this teacher was that she was very fond of professional wrestling; in fact she was such a fan of professional wrestling that she had now begun fully integrating its content into her grade 2 classroom. As it turned out the DTD (dump the desk) was inspired by the DDT, a common wrestling move that involves the application of a headlock to an opponent, as their face is violently smashed into the ground. For an 8 year old it is very discouraging aspect of your schooling when the bully in your class is the teacher, and it can be even more discouraging to your manhood if the teacher is a woman in her late sixties.
Overtime a distrust of teachers developed in my life, which in turn allowed me to run astray from the rest of the kids in my grade. And though it sounds awesome to do your own thing when it comes to school, it is not a great long term strategy. Today, I am a third year university student with the inability to take seriously the pointless, overpriced education which I am currently receiving in the subject of Philosophy. The first two years seemed like an escape from home, rather than a worthwhile learning experience. In two years I hardly bought one textbook, and in two years my average remained just that: average. It seemed as though I had found my perfect match as far as my major. There was never any need to attend class, but yet I still seemed to keep up, as long as this trend continued surely a degree in Philosophy would be easy to obtain.
No one warned me, but in the third year of Philosophy there are uncanny amounts of readings assigned. Sure, this is a common practice around Universities; to overwhelm students with reading materials that they quickly forget right after they spend of all their time reading it. When these readings combine with the hours of class, and countless hours spent studying for essays, midterms, or exams, eventually you find yourself fully submerged within University. It becomes every part of your life, other than the Friday and Saturday nights you devote to habitual drinking and going clubbing. Never have I been interested in keeping up with the Kardashian’s, but even that seems like a more attractive option than devoting my life to keeping up with third year Philosophy courses.
This year so far has been nothing but valued time spent on material that I do not have any interest in learning. And all of this work seems for not if it all leads to just another shitty dead end job, which I am working just to pay off the debts of my time in school. And while to many to people that would be considered failing in life, it is just hard for me to get caught up in the notion that I must be working all the time in order to have a good life. Instead it just appears to me the opposite. Lastly, if in ten years you happen upon a homeless man touching himself to the sight of pedestrians whilst he sings Jim Croce – that is me: a man who finds ways to correlate his second grade teacher’s abuse towards him, with his impending failing out of University – please spare your change graciously.