I wish you could see him as a four-year-old boy on the playground last week. Maybe you would change your mind. He was playing with a couple of new school friends, a boy and girl. They’ve discovered a broken tree covered in colourful ribbons. It was lying on the ground across from the sandbox right by the school fence. They were fully engaged in the game, tying and untying the ribbons, treating what they were doing with the seriousness children reserve only for games.
Then I notice the tilt of the head and the furrowed brow. Chin and voice are raised an octave as he says “umm…” I am the number one world leading expert on his body language and I know exactly what this means. It’s a classical “I’m going to ask for something and I’ll be as polite as possible, because it’s very important that everyone loves me…
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“I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
There was a time when all we needed to do, in order to relax was to switch on the TV and lounge on the couch. Nowadays, this very act means switching through a plethora of TV channels trying to desperately find something ‘good’ to watch, although we already know that something good isn’t there anymore. Once we get through the first fifty disappointing programs and then having the foreboding feeling of more disappointment to come, we go back to that one program we dismissed with the hopes of finding a better one, only to see that it is finishing already. The manual labour involved in watching modern…
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I have been taught so many times that the harder I try, the farther I go. It’s 22.04 here in this typical room, this one girl sitting in front of her laptop.. tick tick tick.. Time passes minute by minute slowly. This one book, she has been studying for so long, why does it feel like it will never end? I could have been somewhere else, wandering around and see the world, the lights, the skies and everything ! Still, all these books are getting thicker and the piles are growing so quickly. The feeling of tiredness shoves at me like waves hitting the shores. There’s somewhere in my mind, making that creaking sound.. is it some kind of a sign? Perhaps, my mind’s yelling something, begging for help.. like a tiny little mouse trapped in such a huge cave, doesn’t know where else to go.
It’s just another way of saying “I am bored of studying”. I’ve been studying English Literature for a while, all I ever got from my teacher is that she always uses plenty of unnecessary words. But let us forget about literature for a while, because now I’m stuck with Asian Philosophy. I’m probably only one in not many students from my class who’s reading all these lecture notes. To be honest, I am lost in this fantasy philosophical world and don’t think that I will be getting back soon. By lost, I mean literally lost ; another definition of “I got nothing from this class”.
The point I’m trying to make here is, studying may not mean learning; and learning may not mean studying. I can learn about several things in life by just walking down the streets, all I need is a pair of ‘wondering eyes’. Everywhere you print your footsteps on can be your classroom, you learn from looking, listening and making mistakes. I am absolutely not suggesting that education is not important, but it’s a waste of supplies if you don’t provide it properly to children. For instance, one of my teachers. He absolutely murmurs sentences when he’s giving us lectures. He doesn’t let us interact, neither with him nor in groups. How’s it possible for pupils to learn in his class? I suppose we are just lumps of meat placed in seats ! He calls it ‘studying’, if he asked these people what they have ‘learned’ from class, they would say ‘nothing’. And you expect your young generations to receive ‘effective education’ Oh, p-lease.
Another day of my life spent on self-studying, which I suppose is more ‘effective’ than sitting in class acting like nerds. Yet, this pile of homework is really bothering me. I’ve got 2 chapters and 1 philosophy book to finish in A WEEK. Don’t even mention Spanish classes and others ! Giving out assignments could be a great way for students to review knowledge they’ve received from lectures, but this amount is excessive. ” Oh, I love tons of homework” said by no one ever.
To be precise, I like learning ; by learning I mean being able to understand the lessons that are taught, and being able to explore those hidden aspects of everything by discussing with groups of people. It should be all for today and perhaps I should finish this enormous book before it’s too late. How do you think of studying?
Yawn. I am tired. That could be the theme of the past year, really: I am tired. It turns out that getting back into the swing of things is exhausting. People had warned me it might be. My oncologist said, take it slow. But I was all, whatever, I feel great, I have more energy than all of these fools, yahoo! I may have overestimated myself a tad, while underestimating the cumulative effects of the crazy-ass things that have happened to me in a very short span of time. Oops. My mistake.
I am still working part-time, slowly increasing my days and hours each week. Working is strange. I think it would be strange for anyone, after an extended absence, especially because my role at work has changed, so it’s an even larger adjustment. But my absence was so intense and surreal, that I believe it might feel…
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I was told to buy a notebook to keep track of all the important information I would be getting regarding Rod’s cancer. Rod’s cancer. After being married for a long time there aren’t many things that belong to one or the other of us. This would sometimes annoy me.
I would say something about using Rod’s car and he would correct me that it wasn’t his car but our car and that he just happens to drive it more often. I tell him people need their own things. I tell him we are too close and should have more friends.
Rod’s cancer is in his body but it belongs to us both. There is not one second that I am not thinking of it and choking from the fear of it. He takes a pain pill and I take something for stress. We take turns getting up throughout…
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