The twist that wasn’t a twist

I absolutely hated freshman English. I absolutely hated sophomore English. I absolutely hated Junior English… but I will address those problems in the future. Today, my focus is on the wicked witch of the downstairs.

For the most part, my problems as a sophomore were the same as my problems as a freshman. I was being treated just as poorly, and I was learning the same things that I knew in kindergarten. I had to deal with emotional abuse whenever I refused to succumb to the evils of the schooling process.

Like my freshman year, schooling and education frequently entered my mind. When we were assigned one of those assignments that had us creating gods to explain how something came to be, I explained why they created the schools. I said that it was to keep people from becoming too intelligent. My teacher liked the twist. It wasn’t a twist.

Since I’m non-confrontational, I never corrected her. Of course, the combination of all of my problems in her mind-numbing class led to my first course failure ever. I didn’t care. Grades lost a lot of value to me over the years.