-_-;
Goddamn eleventh year English! (‘scuse my Klatchian.) >_<;;
I was all going to take Honours this year (made it in, too), and Advanced Placement next year, and have a couple of good English class credits on my record. But no. We move to Tennessee and I’m not a citizen so I can’t go to school, so I have to take distance ed from BC, and guess what? Distance Ed in BC doesn’t ::have:: an Honours English 11 course. I was lucky that they even had Principles Math. So I get to snore through “This is limited omniscient point of view.” “What is a protagonist?” “Explain why love is a conflict in this story,” while my contemporaries are expounding upon the implicit subtleties of the darkness of human nature in Act II, Scene IV of Macbeth. Lucky me! It doesn’t help that almost every single story in the short story book is depressing. (This is a problem I’ve noticed before in Canadian high school education; the stories they give you are well-written, but bleak and unhappy. There’s not a single one with a hopeful ending. You study Shakespeare’s tragedies, not his comedies. Even the Asimov story in last year’s story handbook was pessimistic. I mean, honestly, you wonder about the motives of people who choose these tales for high school students.) It’s so bloody annoying.
And of course I have much better things to do than do mindlessly repetitive pseudo-linguistic schoolwork1. So this would be why I got my books in November and I’ve only done four papers overall. (An average course has between ten and twenty, and I’ve signed up for the full load of eight courses.) And I know I ::should:: just whip right through it, but I honestly have to force myself to even go near the damned black binder.
My God. I read Nathaniel Hawthorne and Miguel de Cervantes in my spare time. I was devouring John Bunyan when I was in first grade and the teachers were still trying to teach me what sound ‘th’ makes. I’m currently actively reading six different books2, four of which are considered classics. I don’t ::need:: a baby-steps introduction to literature!
What did I do to deserve this ignominy? ;_;
1 Like washing my hair.
2 Lords and Ladies, by Terry Pratchett; Foreigner by C.J. Cherryh; The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux (in English, although someday I want to read it in the original French); The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells; The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien; and Prince Caspian--actually, all of the Narnia books, sequentially--by C.S. Lewis. The last two are rereads (for the seventh and the third time, respectively).
I was all going to take Honours this year (made it in, too), and Advanced Placement next year, and have a couple of good English class credits on my record. But no. We move to Tennessee and I’m not a citizen so I can’t go to school, so I have to take distance ed from BC, and guess what? Distance Ed in BC doesn’t ::have:: an Honours English 11 course. I was lucky that they even had Principles Math. So I get to snore through “This is limited omniscient point of view.” “What is a protagonist?” “Explain why love is a conflict in this story,” while my contemporaries are expounding upon the implicit subtleties of the darkness of human nature in Act II, Scene IV of Macbeth. Lucky me! It doesn’t help that almost every single story in the short story book is depressing. (This is a problem I’ve noticed before in Canadian high school education; the stories they give you are well-written, but bleak and unhappy. There’s not a single one with a hopeful ending. You study Shakespeare’s tragedies, not his comedies. Even the Asimov story in last year’s story handbook was pessimistic. I mean, honestly, you wonder about the motives of people who choose these tales for high school students.) It’s so bloody annoying.
And of course I have much better things to do than do mindlessly repetitive pseudo-linguistic schoolwork1. So this would be why I got my books in November and I’ve only done four papers overall. (An average course has between ten and twenty, and I’ve signed up for the full load of eight courses.) And I know I ::should:: just whip right through it, but I honestly have to force myself to even go near the damned black binder.
My God. I read Nathaniel Hawthorne and Miguel de Cervantes in my spare time. I was devouring John Bunyan when I was in first grade and the teachers were still trying to teach me what sound ‘th’ makes. I’m currently actively reading six different books2, four of which are considered classics. I don’t ::need:: a baby-steps introduction to literature!
What did I do to deserve this ignominy? ;_;
1 Like washing my hair.
2 Lords and Ladies, by Terry Pratchett; Foreigner by C.J. Cherryh; The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux (in English, although someday I want to read it in the original French); The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells; The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien; and Prince Caspian--actually, all of the Narnia books, sequentially--by C.S. Lewis. The last two are rereads (for the seventh and the third time, respectively).