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There was a field-specific teacher.Whose awareness was a misfeature.She taught her students one day,In a very narrow way,And spouted hot air as a preacher.
One day youre twelve, and the only thing that concerns you is pumping your legsfasterandfaster,to win the ultimate game of tag.
When I was four I used to play school with my brother and cousin.We would take turns writing lessons on the chalkboard.The scribbles could have meant anythingFrom art to math to history.
I'm paying for a piece of paper.I'm paying to take classes with information that I can find online with the click of a buttton.I'm paying to stay in a dorm where rules are constantly broken, and my sanity incessantly tested.
Little children in little clothes walked into school with eyes closed and all they ever needed to learn in Kindergarten went in one ear and out the other. Teachers smiled and teachers cried.
I sold my soul for corporate goals And a white picket fence. Til that day there will be hell to pay Though I can’t even make rent.