The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.
In school, you're taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you're given a test that teaches you a lesson.
Good teaching is one-fourth preparation and three-fourths pure theatre.
Nothing worth knowing can be taught.
Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
At some point you cannot be the kid in the glass bubble in this world. You might've heard throughout your grade school and high school years that it was a safe, nice, warm, fair, feeling place... but it can get brutal when it gets competitive. Especially when you succeed. Watch the detractors come out of the walls at that point.
I am encouraged as I look at some of those who have listened to their "different drum": Einstein was hopeless at school math and commented wryly on his inadequacy in human relations. Winston Churchill was an abysmal failure in his early school years. Byron, that revolutionary student, had to compensate for a club foot; Demosthenes for a stutter; and Homer was blind. Socrates couldn't manage his wife, and infuriated his countrymen. And what about Jesus, if we need an ultimate example of failure with one's peers? Or an ultimate example of love?
Apart from two periods of intense study, of music between the ages of 12 and 14 and of mathematics between the ages of 14 and 16, I coasted, daydreaming, through most of my school years.
I take mentoring very seriously and as a result I hardly get any work done during the school year.
The statistics John Wesson has compiled in The Science of Soccer show that Premiership football players are vastly more likely to have been born in the first half of the school year. These were the biggest boys in the class and were thus selected for the school team. How fair is that?
In my grammar school years back in the 1920s I used my ten-cents-a-week allowance for Saturday matinees of Douglas Fairbanks movies. All that swashbuckling and leaping about in the midst of the sails of ships!
Each of our children during their high school years went to 'early morning seminary' - scripture study classes that met in the home of a church member every school day morning from 6:30 until 7:15.
During one or two summers, as well as part-time during the school year, I worked for a small Canadian company which developed electrical instruments for military planes.
In early high school years, I was pretty chubby, and I spent a lot of time on my computer, before it was cool to have a computer - because there was a time that was true. So that's where I developed my personality.
That's where I spent of lot of my high-school years -- in the closet. It wasn't too cramped, but you do get really hot.
Fortunately, like most children, I had learned what is most valuable, most indispensable for life before school years began, taught by apple trees, by rain and sun, river and woods.
Over 13 percent of women in college have reported being a victim of stalking during the school year, and one out of every five college women has reported being sexually assaulted. It is simple to talk about statistics. It is more difficult to remember that each number is a victim and represents a daughter, a sister or a friend.
I lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, until eighth grade, and then my high-school years were in Rochester, New York.
There's always a bit of suspense about the particular way in which a given school year will get off to a bad start.
Nothing could convince Aunt Nelly to let Vlad stay home for the duration of the school year, which just goes to prove that parents and guardians don't care if they're sending you to face bloodthirsty monsters, so long as you get a B in English.
Pretty much everyone hates high school. It's a measure of your humanity, I suspect. If you enjoyed high school, you were probably a psychopath or a cheerleader. Or possibly both. Those things aren't mutually exclusive, you know. I've tried to block out the memory of my high school years, but no matter how hard you try, it's always with you, like an unwanted hitchhiker. Or herpes. I assume.
I think everyone feels lost at times during their high school years.
If you feed them, if you feed the children, three square meals a day during the school year, how can you expect them to feed themselves in the summer? ... Wanton little waifs and serfs dependent on the State. Pure and simple.
I rolled myself up into a tight ball of resistance and it was thus that I went through my school years.
Boyhood is the longest time in life for a boy. The last term of the school-year is made of decades, not of weeks, and living through them is like waiting for the millennium.
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