At high school, I became disenfranchised with the institution of schooling approximately around the age of 9 years old (year 4), and again at 11 years old (year 6). Prior to that I was a high achiever ‘teacher’s pet’ persona.
I was given a teacher in year 4 at primary school, whom wanted to just be an Art teacher rather than a mainstream teacher, whom I clashed with heavily. My friend whom is art-inclined loved her if I recall correctly, whereas I on the other hand whom is not art inclined found the entire year constantly being sidetracked to Art not congruent with my idea of education. Ie, this was the first time I couldn’t intellectually excel at schooling. I felt I was ‘a bad student’ and there was nothing I could do to resolve it because I didn’t really enjoy making Art. I was okay at performing in the stage plays and got some of the main parts, but I sucked at most other things presented.
In year 6, I was moved through a reshuffling from the class with a proper teacher for me (high disciplinarian) to a lax be-your-friend kind of teacher. Due to my incredibly low politeness, I steamrolled the hell out of this teacher for an entire year. Never did my homework, sat up the back of the class reading harry potter (to which I read the 3rd book 18 times – I liked the animals, of course I also read other books but anyway), and ate raw pasta (don’t ask, lol).
As an example of why that disciplinarian teacher worked for me; I only had her for a few weeks but I still remember coming into the room and seeing ‘a lot’ written on the board. A on one side at the top, and Lot on the other side. She was furious at people getting it wrong so had started the year with this. I remember that… I can still picture it… over 20 years later. I remember because it was important enough that it made her passionately mad. Most people get mad as a reaction, rather than for the usefulness of it. She was using it as a tactic, she controlled her rage and just turned it up a notch to make us pay attention and she was absolutely terrifying. I loved it.
I can’t remember well 99% of my classrooms, but I remember those words, on that chalkboard.
This trend continued on throughout my schooling of a very small spattering of teachers I enjoyed, among a large mass of disconnected relationships with those I referred to now as ‘textbook teachers’. The teachers that read straight out of a textbook and didn’t really understand the topic at all. A little probing always showed it.
As an example: say you are a history teacher and you are teaching about Egypt. It would help, if you took a weeks vacation to at least see the country if you are going to be teaching about for 10-20 years. At least give your material a bit of respect. Business studies teacher, how about actually trying to start your own small business as a hobby. Or a computer studies teacher building their own rigs as a hobby. Whatever. Involve yourself with your work so there is some backend understanding when a student asks you a question not discussed in the textbook.
I remember being totally enamored with a temporary teacher I had for a day. Totally amazing. I would ask him a question and his brain had such an extensive amount of data on it. He normally taught business and history if I recall. Absolutely amazing teacher, but I found those were rare. So seeing that hierarchy in the quality of teachers, made me able to totally dismiss most teachers as, ‘I could just ignore you and read from the textbook anyway’. I know it’s hard on the teachers, but you get where I am coming from.
So now you understanding the background a little… You can imagine, being an intellectual, alongside this dismissal of authority; I was hopelessly bored out of my mind.
Though I could never, ‘do nothing’. I always had to be doing something.
I wrote. A lot. A lot is likely an understatement. I wrote an entire series of novellas. Developed detailed character sheets that I would give out to my extensive friend network and ask them to create their own characters. Still have most of the stories to this day.
So much so, did I write, that I gave myself RSI. When I was 16 I remember crying my eyes out to my mum on holiday about the pain my hands had been in. I went to high school in an era pre-student-laptop.
I ran to writing as an escape for my boredom, from school in general, and I paid the price in my hands. I can write for a little bit, but after a short period my hands will begin to burn and I will start to feel pain until it becomes unbearable. This does not correlate to writing on a PC. It is entirely to do with pens and pencils and the way you place your hand on paper. This affect was exaggerated by constantly holding books in, ‘that position’ we all know we do, over my youth. I used to read for hours and hours in singular sittings constantly all throughout my youth.
My industriousness was so strong that my body took a blow, so that I could keep working.
This is a good singular example of my industriousness as a youth. As I was in a restricted environment. These days my industriousness diversifies into a large amount of fields and would be much more complicated to explain. I see everything as work, is a good way to put it. I put my ‘all’ into everything like its a job. Even if its meant to be leisure.
I find it hard to relax, and in that sense I have enjoyed marijuana in my past as a tool to relax. ASMR and meditation are also tools I use to slow myself down. Though very few things do, and I have had sleeping problems since I was very young, somewhat due to always wanting to do something. I am someone who loves to sleep once I get there though. Very hard to get out of bed once asleep, alongside that I sleep quite heavily, and very hard to get to sleep to begin with.
(c) 2021 Siren Watcher