Apr 11

I Hate School

Ah, the joys of public education. It is where most of the English language was so "ingeniously" created and where inventions never even dreamt by man are on constant power. Yes, public school is the place of no return. Every patron becomes a victim to its terrifying caves and tunnels and some even claim to hear whispers from victims before them in the corridors. Stripped of our very being, students are moulded and brain-washed into inhuman versions of ourselves. However, some of us manage to escape the treatment fared upon us and are able to tell the horrors of what public education instils. We are the ones who become the most successful, and we are the ones who can see what really happens behind those concrete walls.

Those who do not manage to escape are poked, prodded and tested, then classified by the characteristics that are out of their hands. The treatment of public school moulds and transforms kids, who were once all alike, into a life-sized version of their favourite childhood toy; Robots of high-intellect, Barbies of large ego and action figures of incredible ability. All those characters they once looked up to in a childhood so forgotten have suddenly been plastered on them like a plastic shell they cannot rupture. We are then all placed into a caste system and every day, we are forced to walk tunnels under bright fluorescents that amplify the scrutiny each class in the caste system so requires.

Of course, students are granted "breaks" from the treatment of public schooling, but they only last long enough for students to realise they've been stripped of themselves before they are thrust back behind those impenetrable walls. After just breaking free of the shell they lacquer upon you, they are pieced back together to keep you hidden. And the cycle renews itself year after year after year.

You can think about that as you move from hell to hell to hell, although, some would argue that the hell is actually the treks between dungeons while the prison cells remain the haven. Those "some" would be the escapees. That few who somehow fled before they could be turned into a toy. We are called the "outsiders" or the "losers". We are the toys that are way out of date-- the misfits. Helplessly, we walk through the tunnels, as brain-washed patrons, huddled in their respective groups, assess our very being.

Here come the Barbies talking with cute action figures or whispering with fellow dolls. Here come the action figures running up and down the halls and somehow utilising every one of their abilities at once. Here come the robots who never cease to talk about themselves and use every opportunity to impress. And here we come,-- the outsiders, the ones who "missed out" on the public education treatment-- quiet and solemn, and strategising ways to break free from the concrete walls. It is the phenomenon none of us can crack; how all of a sudden, the attention falls on our shoulders. The Barbies analyse us and as if by magic, they telepathically send our grades to the action figures and robots while continuing to speak mindlessly. And then, as if on cue, everyone bursts out laughing-- having received the message-- like our struggles with these brainless, stolid, and naive beings are the very best comedy in the theatre. It is ironic that such a treatment should be upon us when, in reality, it is them who we should be watching, for they will cause the most damage in the future.

About the Author: SabSixx
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