Tyranny

A poem about my chemistry teacher:

I lecture children to their grave
Cut their throats if they don’t behave
With sticky blood my palms I lave
You dare to argue? How so brave!

All my minions – I make deprave
Lend me your ears : I’ll rave and rave
Not a soul I’ve ever forgave
Onto hell my way I shall pave

I’m neither a knight nor a knave
Just an old hag condemned, enslaved.

Once, I murdered a boy named Dave
He told me I needed to shave.
I hung him and made him my slave
And made him swear not to misbehave.

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Walking with beasts (of the “exam” burden)

Exams – the bane of every students existence. Come February, they are all over the place. Studying studying and more studying – and for what? A little number or a grade on a paper. Let’s face it – no great thinker has been created because he (or she) studied for a darn exam.

I think exams (at least the ones I have to take) don’t even bother to test the right skills. What does one get out of memorising a bunch of facts and writing them out on paper within a certain time limit? Or drawing pretty diagrams of animals and plants? I’ll answer that question – nothing – nada, zilch, zero.

So why do I write exams? Because I don’t have a darn choice. I’ve got to write exams if I want to get into a good college and be successful and all of that.

Image

I know that’s a pretty old meme, but its rather amusing… and it’s true (sort of).

My Old Pal Daisy Poop

I recently ran into a former schoolmate (she moved) in the mall. Let’s call her Daisy Poop. Now Daisy and I had never been close. In fact, for some reason, she has completely loathed me since second grade. To my surprise, however, she thwarts all my attempts to walk away before she notices me and makes a catty remark. She walks over to me and screams my name in an exaggeratedly overjoyed voice (which, by the way was very hurtful to my sensitive eardrums).

So our dear Daisy Poop tries to hug me and goes all “I’ve missed you soooo much.”, and stands there beaming as if that’s the best news she’s ever given anybody. I studied her appearance and found that she was clad top to bottom in neon pink clothes. Seriously – they probably glowed in the dark!

The entire while, I could only stand rooted to my spot wondering what on earth possessed Daisy to act like this.

“Lucas is soooo late.” she drawls, hanging onto my shoulder and possibly plotting to push me down the stairs. I cautiously moved away from the lethal stairs and continued staring over her shoulder at this “Lucas” person, whom I had already begun to pity.

He turned up. And my he was cute.

Apparently, all she had wanted to do was show him off to a girl like me and try to make me all insecure (it may have worked – just a little bit). She went all girly and “Here’s my best friend from my previous school.” and pointed her fake fingernails all over me while her other hand dug into my shoulder which she refused to loosen her grip on. Moreover, she remembered my name, and therefore, there was no way she could have mistaken me for someone else.

It’s always these two faced fake <insert choice word here> who seem to get it all. I’m certainly not one to judge, but I honestly don’t know what the guys see in them. Most “such” girls are extremely good looking. I’ll give them that, but why don’t they try to have an actual brain and try to not to be so hollow headed.

Then again, why do the cute ones always seem to go for girls like Daisy up there?

Maybe I’m just bitter, maybe I’m right, but I know for sure that I’d never become so darn fake. I don’t care if I might end up being the eternal virgin or the crazy old cat lady who lives up the lane, as long as I can be my (deluded) self.

Smile some and laugh more

Fame, glory, knowledge, wealth, even love, who needs them? Well, we all do.

Beneath these, however, there lies a certain shimmering jewel, a vital piece of buried treasure, if I may call it so. Its called “humor”.

More than being treasure by itself, this abstract entity is perhaps the map that leads is to this treasure.

Now, I may not be the best person to go around talking about what makes a successful person tick, for I am not Stephen Covey, nor am I an author of one of those many billion self-help books that flood markets of today.

Nevertheless, we must stop and look at the people in this world who probably have the least sense of humour. That’s right, a schoolteacher. More specifically, a bad school teacher.

In fact, everyone who is bad at whatever they work at all day, appear to be ones who are the most rude and stuck up.

Perhaps teachers more so, because they are bitter. Bitter, that some day, almost all the frolicking teenagers they see will rise to their dreams and surpass themselves.

Perhaps this was written merely out of spite and irritation, but it certainly has an element of truth to it. A sense of humour is important, if for nothing else, to live a healthy life and to experience the joy of watching those around succeed.

Even a bad schoolteacher will agree with that.

P.S. This was NOT intended to insult any of the aforementioned profession, I do believe that a good (emphasis on good) teacher truly has the power to make or break the future of this world, but more on that later.

Eat Your Words

I accidentally bump into someone in the hallway, and they glare at me. Well, now I have no idea who they are or where they came from, but I’m pretty sure being clumsy isn’t a crime worth a bone chilling glare such as the one I receive.

“Nerd!” they accuse.

We part ways.

Needless to say, I am certainly not surprised at the venom in this persons voice. To him, “nerd” probably equals worm, or maybe Timon from Lion King (i.e. an outcast).

Fact is, though, he (along with the rest of the non-nerds) are jealous. The four years of his high school are quite possibly the best four years of his life. For us, on the other hand, one day, we’ll rule the world. (cue maniacal laughter)

Everyone in this world who is somebody, is a nerd. Take scientists, politicians, artists, singers, actors, you name them, they’re nerds.

Bill Gates, Steve Jobs – the world practically worships them. No prizes for guessing what “category” they belong to.

So, to “all you haters”, quoting from Loser like me, “I’ll get you back when I’m your boss”, and to my fellow nerds, “Live long and prosper”.