team GIST

This is when accidents happen.

Wednesday, October 11

I hate him. He asks questions in class; refuses to take things at face value. He's the kind of person whose voice will be heard over everyone else's when the teacher asks a question. He takes the first bench. He is no more of an intellectual than I am. He spends the entire day with his textbooks, that's all. He is what I call a 'book shark' in the library. It's owing to people like him that rare textbooks remain rare. He is a dud outside of academics. His parents are proud of him, little knowing that their ward is not better off than a retard once you take exams and marks out of the equation.
I can gleefully say I'm unlike him. I'm the fellow you spot in the second-from-last row - dreamy eyed, lost, dead, dreary, cold, dumb, numb. The teacher's activities have no bearing on mine. I don't interrupt. I'm the archetypal another-brick-in-the-wall. All I ask for is some amount of 'usual'ness (for lack of a better word), for things to go on the way they have. I hate change. I wish the person mentioned in the previous paragraph dies. Is this too much to expect of your educational institution?
Apparently, and funnily enough, it is.

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