Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thoughts Before Entering the Grind
You must wonder why a man like me detested, even feared the idea of school. It wasn't that I feared the people there--not the virgin marms who taught me, not the children full of nose-crust--nor did I fear the rigors an education should entail. No, I feared routine. Routine, that vise that clamps the mind and presses it to bursting. Routine, that sad and endless slog to which all working souls are thrown. Routine, robber of autonomy, breaker of wills, black-winged usher to the grave. A child starts life boundless, untied to any constant task, and may while his hours in the pasture mud or chasing shadows in a wood. Then comes the crush of school; all time sinks into empty tasks, and all a day's but waiting for that hour, that holy hour, of the one respite of recess. Did the great polymaths do worksheets? Did Da Vinci take the SAT? Did Pythagoras not find his enlightenments abroad, in far-flung nations rather than at a school desk? Did the first person to conjure fire not learn his art in the wild, or did he spend his afternoon watching a clock on ugly wallpaper? No, a genius founts from within, and all routine will do, all school will do, is crush it. So I'd reasoned. And so I'd decided to sabotage this school lest it sabotage me.