Edumacation
When I was in 9th grade, I had an English teacher who insisted that if we wrote in-class essays in pen, that we correct our mistakes with Whiteout.
"Why can't we just cross out our mistakes and write a correction next to it? Isn't that the same thing as using Whiteout?" I asked. I mean, regardless of how you fix it, if you notice your own error and correct it, what does it matter?
"Because," she replied. It was followed by some muted brass notes like in The Peanuts.
So I wrote an in-class essay, in pen, then went over the entire sheet with Whiteout, and wrote all of the words again, on top of the dried Whiteout. If you're old enough to remember what Whiteout is like, then you can imagine how this turned out. It was a big, heavy sheet covered in crumbly white flaky material and pen scratchings that you couldn't read at all.
"Why did you do this?" she asked.
"I screwed up every word on the page," I offered. I think I got a zero on the assignment.
In 10th grade, I had an English teacher who would make us read things, then spend entire class periods asking us Socratic questions about the material. This wasn't terrible, but the tone of her voice with every question was dripping with the sentiment of, "Say, is it Happy Hour yet?" It was obvious to all of us that she didn't care one wit about the questions she was asking, our answers, or the godforsaken crap she was forcing us to read. (Although I did read The Count of Monte Cristo the following summer because of her, which I was happy about.)
In 11th grade, the English teacher had a PhD, in what I can only assume was English, and he insisted that we call him "Dr." Not "MR."..."DR." He was making us read Hemingway or something, and he wanted us to call him doctor as though he had helped develop a polio vaccine.
One day an essay we were supposed to have written was due, and I hadn't done it. Instead I turned in an old paper I had written and turned in the week before, already graded and marked up by him, and about a completely different subject. I just crossed out the grade at the top with a big "X" and passed it to the front.
He asked me to stay after class. After everyone else had shuffled out, he held up the paper. "This isn't the assignment, and I've already graded this one."
"I know," I said, shrugging.
He explained to me why this was unacceptable, and lectured me on having the nerve to try and "trick" him. This was more tedious than just getting a zero on that assignment.
My final year in high school, the English teacher used to find tons of things she didn't like about my phrasing or diction in my papers. She would assign 5 pages, and I'd write 5 pages, but you can find a lot of things wrong in 5 pages, especially if you're pedantic about how people express themselves with the language. So I'd get -30 points for all my little mistakes, in aggregate.
My friends would turn in half a page that they'd written during passing time just before class started, and she'd just write "Too short : -5 points" and that was it. This happened all year.
I asked her about this. Perhaps after teaching for 30+ years, she was downright sick of reading high school senior English papers, and if she was cutting my friends some slack because they weren't being as verbose as I was. I don't really remember what she said, but she told me I'd better not start writing short papers just to get a better grade, because she wouldn't give me one.
I never did learn to read, write, or appreciate literature during high school. I learned those things on my own, in varying degrees and stages, before and after that time in my life.
"Why can't we just cross out our mistakes and write a correction next to it? Isn't that the same thing as using Whiteout?" I asked. I mean, regardless of how you fix it, if you notice your own error and correct it, what does it matter?
"Because," she replied. It was followed by some muted brass notes like in The Peanuts.
So I wrote an in-class essay, in pen, then went over the entire sheet with Whiteout, and wrote all of the words again, on top of the dried Whiteout. If you're old enough to remember what Whiteout is like, then you can imagine how this turned out. It was a big, heavy sheet covered in crumbly white flaky material and pen scratchings that you couldn't read at all.
"Why did you do this?" she asked.
"I screwed up every word on the page," I offered. I think I got a zero on the assignment.
In 10th grade, I had an English teacher who would make us read things, then spend entire class periods asking us Socratic questions about the material. This wasn't terrible, but the tone of her voice with every question was dripping with the sentiment of, "Say, is it Happy Hour yet?" It was obvious to all of us that she didn't care one wit about the questions she was asking, our answers, or the godforsaken crap she was forcing us to read. (Although I did read The Count of Monte Cristo the following summer because of her, which I was happy about.)
In 11th grade, the English teacher had a PhD, in what I can only assume was English, and he insisted that we call him "Dr." Not "MR."..."DR." He was making us read Hemingway or something, and he wanted us to call him doctor as though he had helped develop a polio vaccine.
One day an essay we were supposed to have written was due, and I hadn't done it. Instead I turned in an old paper I had written and turned in the week before, already graded and marked up by him, and about a completely different subject. I just crossed out the grade at the top with a big "X" and passed it to the front.
He asked me to stay after class. After everyone else had shuffled out, he held up the paper. "This isn't the assignment, and I've already graded this one."
"I know," I said, shrugging.
He explained to me why this was unacceptable, and lectured me on having the nerve to try and "trick" him. This was more tedious than just getting a zero on that assignment.
My final year in high school, the English teacher used to find tons of things she didn't like about my phrasing or diction in my papers. She would assign 5 pages, and I'd write 5 pages, but you can find a lot of things wrong in 5 pages, especially if you're pedantic about how people express themselves with the language. So I'd get -30 points for all my little mistakes, in aggregate.
My friends would turn in half a page that they'd written during passing time just before class started, and she'd just write "Too short : -5 points" and that was it. This happened all year.
I asked her about this. Perhaps after teaching for 30+ years, she was downright sick of reading high school senior English papers, and if she was cutting my friends some slack because they weren't being as verbose as I was. I don't really remember what she said, but she told me I'd better not start writing short papers just to get a better grade, because she wouldn't give me one.
I never did learn to read, write, or appreciate literature during high school. I learned those things on my own, in varying degrees and stages, before and after that time in my life.