What I Learn in School

What I Learn in School

• That there are discrete borders which demarcate areas of knowledge, and there is little traffic between these strange lands. But this is all of little concern to the economy.
• That I can go an entire day without speaking to anyone.
• That I can stare at a single point in space, on the wall, say, and make it go out of focus. And then bring it back. There must be some curricular objective that I am failing to meet at any given point. But this tiny rebellion, while indefinite, can seem worthwhile.
• That life is a series of arbitrary questions of mysterious — no, dubiousorigin.
• That my life goes better when I follow the rules and parrot the predilections of authority figures.
• That my responses-to-stimuli are scrutinized by subjective scientists who may or may not in a given moment have my interest at heart. Or even be able to help me.
• That I am better when I make life easier on the teacher — late homework is the only thing worse than incorrect answers. (Well, and novel answers.)
• That learning is about being correct — never take chances.
• That knowledge is a list of facts.
• That knowing consists of reproducing the selfsame facts from memory after some designated time. Unprocessed, untouched, in their original sequence. Alone, without talking, without any of the resources that would be, in a less controlled environment, at my disposal.
• When I am called upon to produce — and I am called upon to produce regularly, or rather irregularly, but frequently — I must produce. An answer to a question the asker knows (why is he asking then?), a meaningless data set, a paragraph, a prefabricated structure of discourse that is predictable, vacuous, and devoid of any real… ideas? At least the kind that can be transformative, and thus dangerous. What was I saying?
• Produce, produce, produce. No time to stop and think. In season, and out of season.
• That I am a product of periodically entered integers out of ten, or out of one-hundred, crunched, weighted, and curved. Carved in stone.
• That doing better than my neighbor results in accolades, and these are a public reward. And being praised feels nice, and I could get used to it. And the drudgery is just… necessary? Especially compared to the benefits, which are kinda nice. And totally worth it.
• That there is no need to develop interests / passions / perspectives / arguments / expertise of my own.
• That my path will be laid out before me in the form of a checklist, in Times New Roman. It is for me to walk that path and trust in its goodness.
• Grades, by their very nature, are sacred. They come from On High and represent an objective measure of my worth. And a reliable predictor of my future.
• That questions are to be answered; authority is not to be questioned. To ingratiate myself with authority is the answer.
• That the worst kind of question is the kind I actually want to know the answer to.
• That the path of least resistance is the path to take.