It’s Probably My Fault

We ran around like headless chickens yesterday, because for back-to-school they make us follow the kids’ schedule, but attend classes at 10 minute intervals.  I didn’t get a chance to ask any questions, and at the end I was breathless and my feet hurt.  Regular readers will know,  I hated my own education experience, at least for the first two weeks of a new school term.  Perceptive regular readers will know I found my brilliant education worthless with respect to life skills including but not limited to:

__a) figuring out life skills inventories and how they fit toward
__b) getting a good job, I’ll enjoy
__c) earning a decent living-standard income,
__d) knowing who to trust and what to do when my trust has been violated,
__e) how to be my own best advocate for career advancement, (wtf is a “career” any more anyway?)
__f) how to reach a positive resolution when dealing with change,
__g) time management, and
__h) motivation to get shit done.

That’s right, my masters degree level “education” ain’t worth shit because they didn’t offer these practical life-skills.  It’s probably my fault.  I should have figured out I needed these skills when I was, say, 12, and picked them up along the way.

It’s probably my fault.  I was born in a time before GPS systems and cell phones; I don’t adapt well to technological advance.  I’ve never been particularly motivated.  I’ve been altogether too trusting, especially in “Christian” circles.  I hate change, it upsets my head and my stomach.  And I haven’t got a clue what I want to be when I grow up.  Actually, I have a clue, I just don’t know how to get there from here, at my age people expect me to be Jesus incarnate to get in the doors of doing what I want.  Or an alcoholic, drug-addicted, suicidal, homeless, un-divorced guy who has a life changing experience and then decides to work his ass off to prove he really changed.  In short, that guy becomes Jesus and then they let him do what I think I want to do.  And then they viciously underpay him for his work, he gets a divorce because his wife has a fling with someone who actually earns enough money, or he has a fling in a fit of depression because his wife turns him down because she wants to motivate him to change, he turns back to the bottle, and they drum him out of the profession.

How do people make money, anyway?  Well, Deon, first they make linen-fiber “paper,” with special security features, and then they print the proper designs on it, and then they cut it.

That’s not what I meant, Deon-Brain.  But thanks.

It’s probably my fault.  I’m not Jesus.  But if I were, they’d crucify me.  They don’t teach crucifixion in schools.  They don’t teach anything about Jesus in schools.  It would terrify the kids.  The lab experiments would be torture, literally.

I survived the school tour, but don’t ask me where any of those classrooms are. And please don’t make me go back, the swarming crowds was terrifying, not to mention those tiny desks.  They call fear of crowds enochlophobia, I suspect it’s because legend has it Enoch just fucking disappeared  one day.  That would be cool to figure out how to do that.  [Enoch:  This crowd’s too big!  Buh bye! **Poof!**]  The teachers all seemed pretty nice though, so I have high hopes my kids will emerge mostly unscathed from the new term.  I’m still a little worried though:  the teachers still use a bloody cross mark on mistakes on homework and tests.

Good luck, kids!

And maybe, while you kids are busy developing those life skills, someone will have a heart and teach what you really need to know to succeed in life.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll figure it out too.

It’d be cool to find a church that would let me, probably the person most would judge as the farthest distance away from Jesus EVER, to teach what the Bible really says.  Faithful (ha!) readers would affirm, I wouldn’t pull any punches.  I wouldn’t claim to have all the answers.  I’d call it what it is, because what’s the point of hiding the truth behind flowery language and assorted bullshit?

Maybe they’d pay me a decent, living wage.  And then we might be able to afford the expense of you kids going to college.


One thought on “It’s Probably My Fault

  1. Making parents do that is…I dunno, this must be the Educational System of the Marquis De Sade. Or that’s my own damage talking but I’d have thrown up from PTSD. School was that bad for me.

    I learned more from TV and reading than school ever taught me and my redneck father taught me to ruthlessly scrape every cent out of every copper. Unfortunately, I, too, have not become Jesus.

    Hate when that happens, turning water into wine was my life’s goal.

    Liked by 1 person

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