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@torrythetorry
Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.
On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.
The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy
I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
Fuck man
My mom likes to refrence a story she read
About a guy who escaped North Korea
He said living there was like living in a pot
And he grew up there, so he grew into the shape of the pot
But once he was out
And the pot was gone
He was still in the shape of the pot
And he had to work really hard to grow outside that shape
I think its the same with alot of things
Art, gender presentation, decoration prefrences, food, hobbies
You forget what made you happy in favor of what kept you alive.
Because treating people fairly often means treating them differently.
This is something that I teach my students during the first week of school and they understand it. Eight year olds can understand this and all it costs is a box of band-aids.
I have each students pretend they got hurt and need a band-aid. Children love band-aids. I ask the first one where they are hurt. If he says his finger, I put the band-aid on his finger. Then I ask the second one where they are hurt. No matter what that child says, I put the band-aid on their finger exactly like the first child. I keep doing that through the whole class. No matter where they say their pretend injury is, I do the same thing I did with the first one.
After they all have band-aids in the same spot, I ask if that actually helped any of them other than the first child. I say, “Well, I helped all of you the same! You all have one band-aid!” And they’ll try to get me to understand that they were hurt somewhere else. I act like I’m just now understanding it. Then I explain, “There might be moments this year where some of you get different things because you need them differently, just like you needed a band-aid in a different spot.”
If at any time any of my students ask why one student has a different assignment, or gets taken out of the class for a subject, or gets another teacher to come in and help them throughout the year, I remind my students of the band-aids they got at the start of the school year and they stop complaining. That’s why eight year olds can understand equity.
I remember reading somewhere once “we should be speaking of equity instead of equality” and that is a principle that applies here me thinks
new kind of guy dropped
[ID: Three screencaps from Taskmaster. A confused-looking Mae Martin says, “My parents genuinely got me a pogo stick for Christmas. I’m 35 years old. I was like, ‘Oh, what should I do with it?’ And they were like, ‘Bounce around with your friends.’” End ID.]
New Goal!!
safety tips from Anubis
Acording to Drago, he said, ingest poison and then call the ambulance. the most fun way to spend the day, have fun kids!!
This picture i took of hector while i was drunk last night looks like a damn renaissance painting
Hector
Hector
georges de la tour, la madeleine a la hector, 1640
i have double standards but they only apply to me. you get a D on something? that’s a passing grade, don’t worry about it . but if i get a D on something i’m failing. my ocd makes me the worst person alive but another person with ocd? hell ya they’re cool.
an ice cold beer topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. lying on top of the ice cream foam is a salted peanut. this is the angel. around him are sprinkles (his tears). this is "the angel's lament", my new cocktail
Sure, why not. ‘Angels lament’
I love this meme because I think humans 10,000 years ago or 100,000 years ago would also like it
the heat of the fire draws air straight up from the center over the fire. This draws the air in from the sides in a circle around the fire creating an air current, which means air is being blown toward the fire from all sides. When you sit on one side of the fire, it blocks some of the air moving toward the fire from that side. Now there is more air being blown toward the fire from the side opposite you. This pushes the smoke your direction. When you move to the other side, it just makes the same thing happen over there. The smoke actually literally does follow you around no matter where you sit. Because physics.
in other words what you actually need at the fire is other people sitting around the fire with you to balance it out ;~;
Guys, they're fucking death valley park rangers. It's their job to rescue the dumb tourists who look at this sign and decide to wander unprepared into the desert.
They know exactly what this sign means. Someone literally died in the park this week, because it's death valley, because of how hot it is.
The sign glitches out because of how hot it is. They are putting on a customer service smile for "come out and fucking try it you stupid cunts"