I'm baaack...
November 12, 2002 - Death to Homework! Viva la homework free life!
Homework is the devil.
I gave this a lot of thought while I was supposed to be rewriting my biology lab and preparing my preliminary notes on my term paper and it was the only plausible explanation. I mean, if you really pay attention as a teacher announces the amount of crap required, you can almost make out the sadistic smile creeping out of the corners of their mouths. When am I ever again going to need to know the square route of pi? Will that help me on job interviews: Why am I qualified for this job? Well, I’ll tell you, Bob. It’s because I know the square root of PI. While my patients are convulsing on the metal slabs rather than curing their ailments, I will take their minds off their pathetic demise with nifty mathematical trivia.
Teachers spend all this time trying to convince us (and probably themselves for they are delusional) that all this stuff matters, that if I don't understand Latin, a language that has been dead forever, my life will have no meaning and I will die unsuccessful, ugly, and alone.
It's lies. Isn't it my job, as a "voice of tomorrow" (according to our yearbook anyway), to fix the system?
Homework Is the Devil: A Manifesto by Lynn Abbot
It has a nice ring to it.
Aside from such deep ponderings on my part, I managed to get Nate to hang out with me on Sunday afternoon. It seems his brother topped him once again and went joyriding in their father’s jaguar. Idiot would’ve gotten away with it if he hadn’t left the Burger King bag in the car. He was highly amused by my antics the night before and as we wandered around South Street aimlessly, he kept referring to me as “cupcake” thus proving that while I often forget, he is in fact a boy and therefore funny only to himself. He also told me to bite my tongue and apologize to Gwen so that he could enjoy his disgusting cafeteria lunch in peace.
HA.
Like that was going to happen.
I’m always the one who has to apologize and I refuse to do it this time. She’s the temperamental, crazy one, not me. She's the one who makes these outrageous claims with no foundation to build them on. So why do I always end up throwing up the white flag and surrendering?
“Just do it, Linnie. I can’t take this! I’m too young to have ulcers, but I do. And their names are Linnie and Gwen.”
“You should tell Gwen that. Maybe it qualifies as ‘decadent’ by her standards.”
“Let it go.”
“She started it.”
And so it went. For the next two hours. By the time he left me at my front door, I wanted to kill myself for begging for his company. When Nate gets into Mr. Peaceman mode, he’s a bit…annoying…to be around. He says things like, “Karma sorts itself out, Linnie” as if he has any idea what karma is and if he does, it’s not like he believes in it. I’m pretty sure his family burnt witches at the stake for saying such things and is proud of that fact.
Worse than Mr. Peaceman mode, is the fact that I always find myself agreeing with Nate in the end. I'm smart enough not to tell him that usually, but I'm sure he knows. Because he's the devil! I swear he puts subliminal messages on my Fiona Apple cds or something because I’ll protest and fight, but end up going home and doing exactly what he wanted. I’m afraid to say it, but f he was a cult leader, I would probably end up drinking his Kool-Aid.
I emailed Gwen.
Spoke of date from hell with Jer and his cronies.
Did not apologize, but made it clear that lines of communication are open.
I guess we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. In the meantime, I have a term paper to write.
Unapologetically yours!
Tah!
Homework is the devil.
I gave this a lot of thought while I was supposed to be rewriting my biology lab and preparing my preliminary notes on my term paper and it was the only plausible explanation. I mean, if you really pay attention as a teacher announces the amount of crap required, you can almost make out the sadistic smile creeping out of the corners of their mouths. When am I ever again going to need to know the square route of pi? Will that help me on job interviews: Why am I qualified for this job? Well, I’ll tell you, Bob. It’s because I know the square root of PI. While my patients are convulsing on the metal slabs rather than curing their ailments, I will take their minds off their pathetic demise with nifty mathematical trivia.
Teachers spend all this time trying to convince us (and probably themselves for they are delusional) that all this stuff matters, that if I don't understand Latin, a language that has been dead forever, my life will have no meaning and I will die unsuccessful, ugly, and alone.
It's lies. Isn't it my job, as a "voice of tomorrow" (according to our yearbook anyway), to fix the system?
Homework Is the Devil: A Manifesto by Lynn Abbot
It has a nice ring to it.
Aside from such deep ponderings on my part, I managed to get Nate to hang out with me on Sunday afternoon. It seems his brother topped him once again and went joyriding in their father’s jaguar. Idiot would’ve gotten away with it if he hadn’t left the Burger King bag in the car. He was highly amused by my antics the night before and as we wandered around South Street aimlessly, he kept referring to me as “cupcake” thus proving that while I often forget, he is in fact a boy and therefore funny only to himself. He also told me to bite my tongue and apologize to Gwen so that he could enjoy his disgusting cafeteria lunch in peace.
HA.
Like that was going to happen.
I’m always the one who has to apologize and I refuse to do it this time. She’s the temperamental, crazy one, not me. She's the one who makes these outrageous claims with no foundation to build them on. So why do I always end up throwing up the white flag and surrendering?
“Just do it, Linnie. I can’t take this! I’m too young to have ulcers, but I do. And their names are Linnie and Gwen.”
“You should tell Gwen that. Maybe it qualifies as ‘decadent’ by her standards.”
“Let it go.”
“She started it.”
And so it went. For the next two hours. By the time he left me at my front door, I wanted to kill myself for begging for his company. When Nate gets into Mr. Peaceman mode, he’s a bit…annoying…to be around. He says things like, “Karma sorts itself out, Linnie” as if he has any idea what karma is and if he does, it’s not like he believes in it. I’m pretty sure his family burnt witches at the stake for saying such things and is proud of that fact.
Worse than Mr. Peaceman mode, is the fact that I always find myself agreeing with Nate in the end. I'm smart enough not to tell him that usually, but I'm sure he knows. Because he's the devil! I swear he puts subliminal messages on my Fiona Apple cds or something because I’ll protest and fight, but end up going home and doing exactly what he wanted. I’m afraid to say it, but f he was a cult leader, I would probably end up drinking his Kool-Aid.
I emailed Gwen.
Spoke of date from hell with Jer and his cronies.
Did not apologize, but made it clear that lines of communication are open.
I guess we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. In the meantime, I have a term paper to write.
Unapologetically yours!
Tah!