I didn’t enjoy a single school day in the timespan between the age of 6 and 26. Twenty years of hardships, sometimes bearable, sometimes bearing the guise of attacks on freedom, conscience, personality, intelligence. It happened that I had few teachers I genuinely liked, whether I was good or average at their subject. My rapport with them was based on their knowledge of life and how to cure the arrogance and ignorance I was displaying in those days when I was no longer the introvert they couldn’t pull many words from, without me being aware of all the aforementioned “qualities” . To give you an idea of the sort of child I was, on my first school day, when I was six, I could already read. When I was seven, I had read more books than any of my classmates, and by the time I was eight, I had read more books than all my classmates together. I think the only one who came in close and even surpassed me on occasion ( without competing against each other) was my cousin Lucian, who was my classmate and who is very smart and an avid reader.
For reasons irrelevant now, reading books has always been a part of my life. It was my favorite pastime into my twenties and it still gives me joy. I realized I knew things, I was aware I knew more than my colleagues. I was too pure at heat back then to boast about it, and I had been well educated at home, based on ancient sayings (Self-praise is no recommendation etc.), but that didn’t change the fact that I was bored to death and I felt like I was being held back . The school was not good at it, neither was it curious, its main goal being the levelling of minds and personalities. My interest in school dropped to zero, while my thirst for knowledge was fuelled by random, and mostly meaningless readings, whereas I found myself at a loss on several occasions. I graduated year after year , sometimes at the top of the class, fearing my parents or out of shame, which is in about the same range.
Watching the family’s children and those of my acquaintances, I have realized that, although many have changed, the system keeps on teaching people fear and shame, instead of courage, serenity and the freedom to change the perspective for a better understanding of the world. If someone had taught us how to read textbooks, we would have learned what too few people know, namely that this planet is populated by billions of worlds which can co-exist in harmony, effortlessly. For the time being, we only know the effort it takes to be something , without knowing how to effortlessly just be. Don’t think for a minute that I point the finger at the Romanian school; it’s the same all over the world, which accounts partially for the history’s troubles we’re living to the full and which will become history tomorrow. Actually, I am not laying the blame on anyone, I am just speaking my mind as to what I would have liked to be taught in school.