I finally went back to high school today, summer vacation having
ended. It was just one week long this year, but it felt like an eternity
to be away from the classroom that long. I don't know what to do with
myself outside the school; I actually convinced my mom to set up a little
table and chalkboard (the one I played with as a kid) in our dining room,
and to sort of pretend to be my teacher. She didn't exactly try hard to
act the part. Instead, she took this as a chance to tell me stories, these
boring stories about her life and the past and stuff, which she always
wants to tell me but which I always do my best to ignore. Well, here was
her chance. Yes, I suppose, I am addicted to schoolâ€"so she had found a
back door, so to speak, into my attention.
I'm thinking right now of two things that she "taught" me last
weekâ€"that is, two stories she told me. For one thing, she was telling me
how summer vacations used to be three or four months long. I was shocked
by this so I raised my hand, and she called on me. "What did you do for
four months'" I asked, and she answered, with a satisfied smile, "Nothing!
Nothing at all!" I was horrified. Nothing at all' That's exactly what
I've learned my whole life to despise. Because, how would that look on
your resume' Four months, nothing produced or achieved' It may be kind of
fun now, if you're a real slacker or something, but it can only come back
to haunt you in the future, when all your hopes and dreams, economically
and romantically and everything else, come crashing to the floor under that
weak, weak foundation you have built for yourself.
Although I was overwhelmed with these feelings as soon as my mom
uttered those awful words, I did not tell her about these feelings of mine
right then, because she did not ask if anyone had any questions or
comments; instead she launched righ...