The Playground

Only if the implication there is that learning to circumvent and subvert the system while nurturing a deep-seated suspicion hatred of The Establishment is somehow desirable. To me, yes, this is desirable. Polite society however would argue that aside from the proper letters accompanying one's name on the diploma - which presumably leads to a solid career, which presumably leads to polite society - colleges and universities should turn out basically homogeneous drones, upgraded marginally (perhaps annually, perhaps not) to reflect Professor X's latest text edition. No one tips the scales, no one stumps the instructors, no one steps out of the processional to observe what they've been part of (or smell a flower), god forbid anyone question procedures or policies - heads short-circuit, confused googly eyes bounce inside their sockets hoping for a soft landing to absorb the cerebral aftershocks.

My University is actively prohibiting my learning. This week I read and today I reviewed roughly seven textbook chapters; at least some of that information would be on the quiz I had this evening in my American Political Process class. During said quiz I found myself guessing far more than I should have been. Moments later we were assigned group class work using several essays from those chapters. I tried to turn to the assigned pages and consult with my nearest classmate. Despite my every effort, the essay was not to be found in my book. "Can I borrow your book for a minute?" I asked the person beside me. His essay in section 2.2 was different than my essay in section 2.2. So I compared several other pages. Nothing matched.

I HAVE BEEN READING FOR TWO WEEKS OUT OF THE WRONG EDITION because the black whole into which I hurl my money after incinerating it held the required reading list hostage until days before classes started. Even then, the information was partial and ambiguous. Also, the book center stocked some of the correct edition and some of the WRONG edition. Is this where higher learning enters? Disambiguating the monkey-job of incompetent pretentious dill holes? Do I really need to go to college for that?

I had to guess my way through an exam for which I have ignored my children and personal hygiene to gain more study time. In the spirit of withholding, the instructor despotic bitch deigned to inform the class at the last minute that this would merely be a 10 question multiple choice quiz; a quiz worth 15% of our grade. Ten questions from seven long chapters. How could anyone even suspect what the relevant information might be?

Certainly I could not fathom it, a fact which is mildly surprising to me since test-taking has usually come as a sixth sense. Having to apply such extreme deductive reasoning to a quiz frightened me knowing that an actual exam is around the corner. But why, why did I struggle so? Because

I READ THE WRONG EFFING BOOK!