Tag Archives: childhood
You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one
I bet imagination is a word you heard a lot when you were a child but not so much recently. And children are the prime example of the importance of imagination. Children have wonderful aura, which creates an atmosphere most people can’t help but be affected by. The reason for this is children have yet to be taught to be cynical. Their imaginations have yet to be beaten down to size by the hard truths of life. They can still imagine a world without war, poverty and pain. With the blink of an eyelid they can visualize one day having everything their heart desires, unlike everyone whose aura has shrunk bit by bit over the years. We need to spend thousands of euro on TVs, DVD players, daily newspapers and flights to far away countries with accommodation to match. Our younger counterparts can be entertained by something as simple and economical as a cardboard box. Some would see this as something to be laughed at; I see it as something to be admired. With the colourful imagination a child possesses, they need never be bored.
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“Enjoy your school days, they’re the best years of your life”
I think there are three main kinds of chip-on-their-shoulder teachers. This particular one was the power kind- the one who likes to abuse their power and has traits such as never being able to admit when they’re wrong. This teacher freely admitted she hated first years. Other than that I must admit she was a good teacher, and she has been very interested to hear how I have been getting on since I was 13. But one day she told us all it was study time, we were to be quiet, picked out the longest page in the book, and told us that anyone who spoke would be given this page to write out. Fair enough. But a few minutes later the girl sitting next to me turned to me and said something. I tell no word of a lie when I say the teacher looked like a child at Christmas as she told us we both had the page to write out. I objected but my words fell on deaf ears. I walked home that lunchtime and talked to my parents about my day, as I always did, and the story of how despite the fact that I had not uttered a word, I got the same penalty as if I had, came up. My dad was indignant. Not long afterward he marched into the school and had a chat with the teacher about it. I was not given the page to write out but not without price. I don’t think it was out of the goodness of my teacher’s heart considering the next day having made mention to my not having done the work, she gave us a speech about how if we weren’t willing to accept responsibility for our actions that was fine by her. Continue reading
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