An excerpt from a passage about educators’ expectations for students, preceded by “Educators expect students to display a passion for learning.”

I think educators need to set their expectations to reality.

This is akin to expecting a passionate answer for why you want to work a minimum wage job. I’d argue it’s worse. At least, you’re paid for the time you invest in that job. College is the other way around. You pay them to invest your time. Not to mention grades are what determine whether or not you pass the class, not passion.

Perhaps if “general ed” weren’t a requirement, educators would see more students with a passion for learning because said students won’t have to get the course over with to get to the courses they have interest in.

I hate essays. I hate being told what to write about and what formats to use. I hate having to pad out papers for the sake of fulfilling the requirements. The fluff has proven to be more irritating than much else. The fact that almost no one would participate in discussion if it weren’t a requirement should say something.

What I hate most is needing to pretend I have something nice to say when I don’t. No, this essay about songbirds doesn’t make me want to learn about songbirds. It’s too long, nearly put me to sleep, and I’m relieved it’s over. No, I don’t want to tell you where I’m taking my classes from. These classes are online and my location is not your concern. I don’t care you like roller coasters and you don’t care I eat too many sweets.

The essay I completed is not due for two weeks, but I did it on the first day because I wanted to get to the point. And the point was “complete this assignment”. I didn’t turn it in, but I completed it. Now, I wait. In the meantime, I’m still trying to come up with a sugary, fluffy introduction for the discussion boards. As this post may suggest, I am only good with the sugar that goes in my mouth. Faking sweetness? Not so much.

There are classes I’m interested in required for my degree, but “English” and “First Year Experience” aren’t on that list. I would prefer Spanish and a class about finances. Unfortunately, not options at the moment, so I’m doing what I need to do to get to them.

On the upside, it seems these classes are providing sufficient material for my blog. I can’t remember the last time I did back-to-back posts.

Time For School!

Yesterday was my first day of returning to school. I now remember why I never liked English or “general ed” classes. I can’t think of anywhere else there is so much fluff and fakery. I think I’d be willing to pay more in tuition if everyone would get the point and I didn’t need to read five paragraphs of fluff to care about what the heck you’re talking about!

I realize the irony of this when I keep a blog. But my blog isn’t mandatory. It’s something I keep for my feelings. Since any response less stuffed than my teddy bears isn’t acceptable, I’m putting my real answers to the intro questions here. I’ll fake something for the teachers later.

Read the rest of this entry »

I Can’t Un-see

Back in May, I wrote about an incident that happened between me and a teacher during my first year at my second high school. More so, I wrote about how I couldn’t let the incident go.

It hasn’t gotten better. Not only am I still angry over it, but I dread the fact that I’m even in the same building as this lady. I hate passing her in the hall, I hate when I mistakenly look at her, I hate hearing her name, I hate just thinking about her.

I have never felt so much rage, anger and hatred toward anybody. The second this lady comes within my sight, all those feelings I felt from back in June 2011 flare up again as if it was happening all over again within that tiny frame of time it takes for me to pass her.

I have much bigger concerns than her. With everything I have to worry about, she shouldn’t be on my mind at all. I should’ve forgotten about her entirely by now, especially since I liked my English teachers from last year so much and it was great. So why is it every single school day, I find myself actively trying to avoid her, secretly hoping she’s not around the next corner and wanting to fall into a black hole when it turns out she is?

Can’t Let Go, Can’t Keep Holding On

It’s almost June. The school year is nearly over. I only have 15 more days of school left and out of those 15 days, only 7 are full days. My second year of this high school (I transferred) will be over and September will begin my third year of this school and my final year overall. I should be happy, right? Well, I am. But I’m not as happy as I feel I should be because there is just one little thing I can’t let go of.

Towards the end of my first year at this school, something happened between me and a teacher. I don’t deny that it was my fault entirely, as it was meant to be an innocent joke due to my playful nature. The occurence is not what I’m upset over. It was the teacher’s reaction to it that has me upset. I cannot remember the exact timeframe of this incident, but it was after May 20th, I received a three-day suspension and when I returned to school, it was June.

Days or possibly weeks (I really do not remember) prior to this happening, I had been wearing on this teacher’s nerves. What I could’ve been doing, I have no idea. None whatsoever. What I do remember is that I was not doing well in her class. I passed two marking periods and failed two. The incident is the reason I failed the fourth one. I also remember her constantly bugging me over my work and I repeatedly asked her to leave me alone, but I know laziness is not what could’ve set her off. Otherwise, she would’ve exploded months prior.

The “joke” in question was me making physical contact with her. By “physical contact”, I mean me putting my finger on her head/hair for less than a second. Why I did that, I’m clueless, but had I known that joke would’ve set off the time-bomb she was, I wouldn’t have done it. Yelling followed. I consider apologizing afterschool, but knew she probably wouldn’t want to hear it—and I was right because she had me suspended the next day and the week I returned to school, I found out from my therapist that she had told what I did (oddly enough, she didn’t tell that I was suspended, though that was no surprise). I was supposed to be transferred out of the class, but it was too late in the year. For a few days after I came back, I stayed in the office for eighth period, when I had her class. When it was finally time for me to go back, one of the vice principals (we have two) walked me back to class. This exchange happened:

Me: Why do I have to go back to her class?
Him: Because you’re still entitled to an education.

First off, entitlement sucks in this case. Second, what education was he talking about? After I returned to that class, I was completely excluded. I sat in the back of the room (he told me to) every day and was completely and utterly ignored. Never given any work, never called on. The most that teacher did is mark me absent instead of cut when I didn’t show up and said nothing when I left early (though I only did this once, by a minute, because she was showing the class some girl’s failed attempt at rapping during a press conference; I hate rap anyway, so I would’ve left even if it was good). What education was I getting, besides learning that I clearly wasn’t welcome in her class anymore and she absolutely hated my guts? I didn’t even show up for my final exam because I knew she would not give it to me. I did—and still do—wish I could’ve amended things with her, but I knew there was zero chance of that happening, so I let it go.

It has been very nearly a year since this happened. My new English teachers (yes, I got two this year) have been wonderful to me. One did bug me about work for a short while (this was not laziness, but I let him think that), but eventually left me alone and I like being with both of them in class. Not to mention the other one, who is a woman, is downright adorable and very pretty (the first one was pretty too, but this woman is prettier; that has nothing to do with it, but I just felt like mentioning it). I think it’s very likely that if I end up having an English class again next year, I will be placed with them and that would be perfect. I have nothing to complain about.

Yet for some reason, I cannot let go of what happened last year. I can’t. It still lingers in my mind. I don’t know if I’m angry, if I’m feeling guilty, if I’m sad or if it’s some combination of the three. And I can’t shake the feeling that this will linger in my mind for all of next year and possibly remain even when I am in college, which will be ridiculous! But it will not go away. I may possible be stuck on this incident for a lifetime. I hope not, but I am so unsure.

One thing is certain, however. That teacher’s reaction taught me something: she has haphephobia, which is fear of being touched. I never thought such silly or odd phobias could be real, but I was clearly wrong. At least I learned something out of that whole ordeal.

NOTE: If you’re wondering why this has the “humor” tag, it’s because all of this was the result of a joke. A bad joke, unbeknownst to me, but a joke nonetheless.