End Point
When I was at school I didn’t understand why I was at school. When I finished school I didn’t ever want to hear the word school again; the word belonged with words like skin lesions and held captive. By the time school was a distant enough memory, I was ready to throw a brick at anyone who said “school is the time of your life!” Because let’s be honest, how many people can say that school really was the time of their life? Looking back my memory is skewed by rationalization and maturity, but the essence of what troubled me still remains.
Because you wouldn’t throw a bunch of entirely different animals in to the same pen at the zoo, would you? No. The Peacocks would be eaten by the Lions, and the apes probably might have something against the Giraffes stealing their bananas. But school, for some reason, saw fit this ethos: yes, throw everyone in together and treat them all the same. The principle is right and just, but the reality is different. The way I see it school is a kind of legalized torture. By ignoring the children who fail academically and lording those who excel, two polar opposite factions are created. The result is that some children suffer in silence, while the most capable are treated like royalty.
Of course, back in my day dyslexia was considered a joke. You weren’t dyslexic, you were simply slow. This attitude is changing now, but it troubles me how long it’s taken us to get to where we are.