"I motion that, because everyone is half asleep, the entire class must spin around in a circle and scream WhoopSHHHahhh!" This motion not only woke up the dormant members of my debate class, but it caught the eye of my debate teacher. He paused for a moment, not knowing quite how to respond, and simply said, "Is there a second for that motion?" The motion was seconded and then passed. The entire class, including my teacher, stood up, spun in a circle, and shouted, "WhoopSHHHahhh!" The class was now certainly wide awake, but wondering why I hadn't gotten in trouble for being so bold. The answer is simple. There is a fine distinction between someone who disrupts while others are in the process of learning, and someone who disrupts while they are in the destruction of that process. Some people say I'm a nonconformist to traditional classroom etiquette. Some say I am bold enough to make class interesting for them.
Some say I am uninhibited. But if being bold is a crime, then no teacher would ever have taught, no artist ever been discovered, no leader ever lead, and no student ever learned. I enjoy learning, and the second I stop having fun is the second I become an everyday, unmotivated member of the class.
In my freshman year, I asked my immature self-righteous self, "Why am I in school?" The first thing that crept into my permeable, adolescent mind was that I attended school because the repressive authority figures (whom I felt were infringing on my rights) put me there. I concluded that teachers served only to imprint evil ideas into the minds of youth, consequently sucking every inkling of creativity from our brains. I thought it was a cleverly concealed, numerical system based on the number five.