Conceptual Correspondence

Dear The Education System,

                                                I am writing to you in regards to the recent alteration in the nature of our professional relationship.

 

As I am sure that you aware, we have been connected by a social and/or professional contract for the vast majority of my life, as I have participated in all of the socially prescribed incarnations of your existence, which include, but are not restricted to, the following types of school; Playschool (not the TV show), Primary, Secondary / Comprehensive and, most recently, University.

 

If I was forced to choose my favourite type of school, using mostly introspective factors, it would be incredibly difficult for me to select one individually.  This is because during much of my time in Playschool and Primary I was incredibly young, which was the correct age for those particular contexts.  This youth however renders memories of this time few and far between, which means that it is incredibly difficult for me to speculate on whether my time in these institutions were enjoyable.  I can only imagine that sitting in a nappy playing with sand and paints (separately) could only have been an enjoyable thing, however that occurred during my time in University, and as such cannot highlight whether or not my formative years in education were enjoyable.  The only anecdote I have been told of my time as a small child involves urination is Penscynor Wildlife Park, which, while amusing, does not help in my inquiries. (I have just been told that this weeing incident in fact occurred in Butlins, but I will leave it as Penscynor, as that location is more inherently humorous to my tastes.  Possibly because, Jordi be praised, I have no actual memories of ever being in Butlins.)

 

I have more concrete memories of my time in Comp, however my time there was a veritable pick ‘n’ mix of experience.  If the pick ‘n’ mix in question was situated in the bombed-out stalactite-filled remnants of what used to be a Woolworths.  You could probably find one of them somewhere, possibly in Buntingford or Chipping Ongar. (I found these places by typing “Random British Towns into Google, and therefore the use of these random towns to flesh out a silly joke about pick ‘n’ mix is in no way meant to reflect negatively on the towns stated.)  (Chipping Ongar sounds wicked-cool).

 

Having fully discussed the experiences I had in comp, I will now address University based experiences.

 

At the start of University the work was quite easy, after that it got steadily more difficult.  From what I gather this is the usual progression for most University courses, and does not reflect a cruel construction of my particular course.

Interestingly, the steep curve of work getting more difficult in University was paralleled only by my aggravation to said work.  A graph of this would look like this:

  

 In this graph Y = difficulty of University work (measured in blood pressure), and X = how much University work does my head in (in Kilojoules).  The red represents danger and fury in equal measure.

 

I suppose the point of this letter, apart from assaulting education, is a round-about declaration of my departure from the education system.  I have listened to what you want me to know and I have parroted it back to you for roughly 18 years.

 

I thank you greatly for the education I have received, for the ability to think, and the drive to understand.  I cannot be certain that this would have been present to such a degree had I not been subjected to your enlightening (in aim) regime.

 

However, I am through with you now, I want to do what I want to do, so give me some good marks that I can get an awesome job with, thanks.

 

Love and Fury (in fairly equal measure)

 

AyJayGee. (academia imps willing) B.A.