I am my wisest, strongest, rawest and also most secretive this year. Or, this second half of the year.
I have a psychology practical tomorrow. Logically, normatively (literally according to norms), I should be dropping things at this stage, lashing out at people, downing coffee and donuts like water and be buried in my practical file. Instead of that, at this exact moment I am shutting close files of two side projects I am on, and writing my blog. I know full well that the ripple effects of every action like this and hence my performance on every little or large test this year has a compound effect on my future- the one I don’t care for and the secret one that is my Achilles’ heel, both. Yet, I am not panicked, in the least.
If you’re thinking I’m a master in psychology or your adorable right-out-of-the-movie book geek, drop it. I am just attuned. Attuned, to the years and years (and years) of lecturing in school and fortunately not so much outside school: “Take this seriously, kids! Your future rests on this. You know how important these exams are now with the nth new curriculum! YOUR kids are looking at you with hungry eyes, growing hungrier with every minute you waste on the net or in a cafe or just about an inch away from your books, because they are malnourished and there’s no food in the house because you never went to college.”
Probably not that last part. But just as threatening. Maybe I’ve said this before but the ONLY effect such fear mongering has on students is that most of them give reading up at the earliest possible age, chastised with such negativity. Many others learn to fear reading, and everything that goes with it, until the classroom just becomes a group of children who either no more respect reading or know no hope without it. Everyone does become successful robots though, and if that was the aim of education, we’ve nailed it.
I fit in this class too, of course. I’ve never turned away from reading. But I know that a world is not impossible without it. I may not be a candidate for either tight fit category, but I’ve bounced between them, just like a work-vacation time division. Currently, I am in a highly motivated, ‘blood only has adrenaline’ kind of rush for knowledge (being better/ touching glossy pages/ checking out writing styles/ especially looking for acerbic people and texts), and I STILL DON”T FEEL MOTIVATED FOR TOMORROW’S PRACTICAL.
I’m sure I’ll score good. That’s… not really the point of reading but it matters, on the ripple effect level. I’m also pretty sure that after it ends tomorrow, I’ll be lighter.
That’s because of the deadpan, silent acknowledgement I have that I don’t enjoy school anymore.
I mean the curriculum, really, but since the “studies” are the basis of time division at any school, I don’t find much joy in the plain brick structure either, anymore.
Yet, it has been nearly 14 years. Our outward behaviour and intrinsic delights find ways to merge. I am indeed my wisest, strongest, rawest and most secretive this year. That’s because nobody else sees that when I walk the corridors that everyone walks, I picture the Windsor Castle, I see the Danube, I smell burgers and I hear the piano, like the other secrets no-one needs to know.
I will continue to have a pleasant time at school, despite my unsatisfaction and despite my hopes, because that’s just who I am. I’ll find ways to put the fun back in reading.