Link to original post: [drupal=4805]ˈi-dē-ət[/drupal]
I like this word. It sums up anything you have a distaste for in three simple, sharp, and effectual syllables. Kid walking like a bear (although, they bare (pardon the pun) more of a resemblance to a starving dog, these kids do) that just defecated in its pants? Idiot. Colorfully dyed fox tails streaming from someones pants? I'm sorry (no I'm not), but you're an idiot. What a word! It's times like these that I thank language for sometimes being a bit too general.
English class will bring out the worst in people, and for others it uncovers how brilliant they are. How, after only twelve years or so of being taught, these people can tie words into a sentence, sentences into thoughts, thoughts into coherent ideas. Their writing is illustrious and beautiful, their writing wild and incomprehensible. It seems every other girl whose writing I see is the exact same. Little boxed letters. I liken them to marshmallows. Disgustingly uniform, I at one time thought that there was a link between legibility and validity of content in the writing. People in my class, I can respect. Kids in my class are idiots. These kids are ones I can see shriveling into obscurity and being plopped in front of their computer desk in a tiny office, where their superficial life extends past high school. It extends into college, and then work, and then marriage, and eventually a death which their superficial family and superficial friends visit. And they will mourn, as they read the generic epitaph, which I quote here: "God...Heaven...blah...Heaven...O' Lord..."
There is also a choice of whether they wish to include how great a father and/or mother and/or spouse and/or worker they were.
That is what I think when the instructor is telling us, in her unusually serious tone, how some kids in their journals wrote on how they can not wait to leave high school, how they want to be something, and not be Citizen #4789423. When kids scoff at the idea and snicker at each other...that is when I have to stop and ask myself something. This is seriously AP English? This class represents the top English students in our school. They shrug off what we learn. I have to be honest here, I didn't read ****, mannnn. Idiotic grin. What's the answer to five? The answer is told but the only thing here doing work is the pencil. And this is why this is the way it is written, and this is the way it applies to your life now. Feigning interest. Tests are nothing more than regurgitated notes. I try not to insult your intelligence, so I made the quiz matching with a word bank. Kids still fail. The particularly adept kids successfully vomit their vocab binge from the previous hour onto paper they same way it came in. Chances of these words being ever recognized or used again are slim.
Maybe if you pretend hard enough you'll create the illusion of knowledge.
I like this word. It sums up anything you have a distaste for in three simple, sharp, and effectual syllables. Kid walking like a bear (although, they bare (pardon the pun) more of a resemblance to a starving dog, these kids do) that just defecated in its pants? Idiot. Colorfully dyed fox tails streaming from someones pants? I'm sorry (no I'm not), but you're an idiot. What a word! It's times like these that I thank language for sometimes being a bit too general.
English class will bring out the worst in people, and for others it uncovers how brilliant they are. How, after only twelve years or so of being taught, these people can tie words into a sentence, sentences into thoughts, thoughts into coherent ideas. Their writing is illustrious and beautiful, their writing wild and incomprehensible. It seems every other girl whose writing I see is the exact same. Little boxed letters. I liken them to marshmallows. Disgustingly uniform, I at one time thought that there was a link between legibility and validity of content in the writing. People in my class, I can respect. Kids in my class are idiots. These kids are ones I can see shriveling into obscurity and being plopped in front of their computer desk in a tiny office, where their superficial life extends past high school. It extends into college, and then work, and then marriage, and eventually a death which their superficial family and superficial friends visit. And they will mourn, as they read the generic epitaph, which I quote here: "God...Heaven...blah...Heaven...O' Lord..."
There is also a choice of whether they wish to include how great a father and/or mother and/or spouse and/or worker they were.
That is what I think when the instructor is telling us, in her unusually serious tone, how some kids in their journals wrote on how they can not wait to leave high school, how they want to be something, and not be Citizen #4789423. When kids scoff at the idea and snicker at each other...that is when I have to stop and ask myself something. This is seriously AP English? This class represents the top English students in our school. They shrug off what we learn. I have to be honest here, I didn't read ****, mannnn. Idiotic grin. What's the answer to five? The answer is told but the only thing here doing work is the pencil. And this is why this is the way it is written, and this is the way it applies to your life now. Feigning interest. Tests are nothing more than regurgitated notes. I try not to insult your intelligence, so I made the quiz matching with a word bank. Kids still fail. The particularly adept kids successfully vomit their vocab binge from the previous hour onto paper they same way it came in. Chances of these words being ever recognized or used again are slim.
Maybe if you pretend hard enough you'll create the illusion of knowledge.
