When I was young, my mother told me what wrong and right things were existent. Like what’s wrong with talking to a stranger, or staying outdoors late at night. Back then, I didn’t know some things told wrong were right and these right things aren’t even correct in the first place.
If you ask someone, “What’s school?” yes, indeed - they would say it is a space where we learn. A space where we discover and are honed for what’s going to be happening tomorrow and the worse days to come than this minute. However, if you’d ask me, my dear, I’d say school is just a nice term for prison where us students also known as inmates wear nice and prompt clothes and an Identification Card that’s required because honey, if you’d go losing yourself somewhere a simple I.D can tell a person who you are.
But would they, really?
Yes, yes.
They would.
They would report it to the principal and the principal will tell your teacher. They would go over your records and all, would give them a shock to see straight A’s that cost you missed breaks and fun-filled days with your peers. Good grades earned from last year when you didn’t sleep a wink, studying hard for one lesson you simply can’t comprehend because it is not of your capability.
But school thought you were wrong, forcing onto you knowledge you don’t even need
Because you can do it, and if you didn’t - they will pay you an F. That would, indeed, get you a standing on a senseless ground staring straight ahead towards some dark path unbeknownst to you.
Though I beg to differ.
You can be a rising pop star when you can’t even count to ten. Because Mathematics isn’t just your thing, it’s Music instead; the arts. You can’t stand in front of anyone reciting the multiplication table, or factor a polynomial but you, you can sing notes from do, re, mi, and so on in their minors and majors.
You can’t understand what an atom even is, but you can turn galaxies and heavens with your sumptuous creations of edible finds. You won’t know what to do when force acts on an object in motion, but the things you do with your hands craft great food, those that deserve five Michelin stars.
You see, my mom told me I would be a lawyer. But I wanted to be a janitor, simply because I wished to. She told me cleaning someone else’s property was okay and noble, but it would be better if I was the employer. I asked her, “What’s wrong with it?” and she couldn’t answer because she, herself didn’t know what’s the reason and why it was wrong.
So you can.
Don’t let school or anyone fool you into thinking you should’t, can’t.
Because you should; it’s what you love. You can; it’s your gift.
Though in some circumstances where poverty and the stakes are high, don’t let the fickle, groundless, shallow thoughts of a fourteen-year-old trouble you, as anyone older than me would say.
For I myself, can’t determine whether this is right or wrong; oppressing the monster that raised me to be one. The monster who discovered I am best at writing, that I am smart.
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