When I was in the sixth grade, growing up in Los Angeles, I once asked the teacher a question. I didn't think it was a special question, or anything anyone wouldn't think of.
I had been sitting in classrooms since kindergarten, sometimes six-hours a day, for six years, which adds up to about 6,500 hours. Each year, at some point, I would hear from some adult person that I was being prepared for the real world. I never really knew what that meant, nor did I seem to care. It was just a phrase uttered every so often by some taller person.
I had been sitting in classrooms since kindergarten, sometimes six-hours a day, for six years, which adds up to about 6,500 hours. Each year, at some point, I would hear from some adult person that I was being prepared for the real world. I never really knew what that meant, nor did I seem to care. It was just a phrase uttered every so often by some taller person.
One day, and in front of the entire class, I innocently asked the teacher, Ms.Thurber, "If we are always being prepared for the real world, what is this now? Are the past six years not real? Does the real world start after I am 18?" A few of the other kids muttered under their breath, "Yeah, yeah."
Ms. Thurber's face appeared to turn a light red. I remember her giving me a long response, as she led me down the hall to the principal's office.....where she suggested I needed to see a counselor. The principal, Mr. Rose wondered why I would ask such a question. I wondered why I wouldn't.
Ms. Thurber's face appeared to turn a light red. I remember her giving me a long response, as she led me down the hall to the principal's office.....where she suggested I needed to see a counselor. The principal, Mr. Rose wondered why I would ask such a question. I wondered why I wouldn't.
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