a growing infinity of nonsense and nerd

My childhood home was next to a river and on the other side of that river, there were roughly 200 cows and their calves. During the hot Virginia summer, some of the cows would make their way down the bank of the river and stand up to their chest in the cool flowing water. Sometimes they drunk it, sometimes they played in it but mostly they just stood and stared at you on the opposite bank. At one point before we had bought the house I grew up in, there was a particular cow introduced into the herd who came from a farm where she was regularly required to ford a stream to get to the next paddock. Naturally, she began fording the river (no small feat, the river was relatively deep and wide and the bank on our side was steep and 20 feet tall in places) and entering our yard. Our front yard was a large floodplain, always full of clover and wild flowers and other small plants cattle consider to be delicious. She taught some of the other ladies in her herd to cross the river to the greener grass on the other side.

Naturally, this wouldn’t do and the rancher got rid of her. I like to think he sold her to another farm where she could teach other cows bad habits because for all her faults, she was a good mother.

• become medusa

• dance naked around a fire in the woods w other ladies

• eat men

• let their eyes roll back in their head and speak in tongues

The worst part of it is that the new king takes at least part of his harem with him everywhere and it’s so embarrassing. The Counselors of War have never once met with His Divine Majesty without that hulking battle-scarred consort interrupting with muttered growls or scornful snorts. And the Ministers of Finance all flinch at the sight of that fox-faced one, rumored to have been rescued from the gallows because His Augustness took a fancy to his eyes or some such nonsense. General petition days are even worse, with practically the entire harem drifting in and out of the Grand Hall in turns, insouciant and smug like granary cats who know they’ve been given full run of the courtyards and barns.

Me:

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

All the other kids have one teacher, while I had two, though I was in the same class. I took recess by myself. When the other’s took recess, I was constantly quizzed by my second teacher and shown how to color properly because ‘You don’t want your pictures to look like theirs, do you?’ I just wanted to color. 

When I was allowed to participate with the rest of the class, I felt odd. “How fast does the earth move?” The main teacher asked. “100 miles an hour!” “One bajillion miles a hour!” I raised my hand. “Yes?” I swallowed and smiled. “I think it’s closer to 100,000 kilometers per hour.” I didn’t guess, I stated a fact. I was happy. And proud. Because I knew the answer. But somehow, when the teacher said ‘That’s correct’, it was with a large amount of disappointment and odd looks from the other kids. What had I done wrong? I didn’t answer questions anymore.

When I was in the class with my second teacher, we did reading flash cards. “What does this say?” “Government.” She frowned. “And just how do you know that?” I answered as simply as I could. “It doesn’t sound like it’s spelled. It has ‘Govern’ like the governor, and it has ‘ment’ that rhymes vent which is what’s above us! Government!” “That’s not how you learn words, you need to remember how to spell them. Try the next one.” Why did it matter? I remembered and could read it. So I had to learn the ‘correct’ way to spell and read.

So on and so on until 5th grade, when I was falling behind all the other students and was told to try harder and pay attention. ‘Show your work or it counts against you.’ But I didn’t have any work to show… 45 X 3 just is 135. What work was I supposed to show when something was a fact? So I had to relearn math so my teacher didn’t flunk me out.

This has followed me into adulthood. “Think outside the box.” I can’t. There is a small area outside the box I am allowed and no further. That is what I have been taught. When someone wants something from you in this way, they want to know where it came from and for it to match their ideals… not something they can’t understand or want to consider. And there is always a right answer, even if you are just coming up with ideas.

“Do you have any ideas on this matter?” My boss asks. I shrug. “It’s not something for me weigh in on, that’s beyond my area.”