I used to have a pet named after my high school English teacher. It got its name as soon as I saw it creeping on a wall next to my bed one night, and it became my companion after it was captured in a jar because I was afraid that if I had tried to splat it with a slipper, it could have fallen on my sheets. Of course, the creature was a cockroach and it soon became extremely popular in my high school class. It was a vivid illustration of the general opinion about this woman, who was a teacher only by appellation, as she avidly avoided taking new lessons by making dictations every other day, more often than not gave us wrong meanings of the words but when later confronted with a dictionary burst into tantrums and refused to acknowledge the erudition of the lexicographers, and required us to purchase expensive seventy-page color-filled textbooks from an English publishing house, which turned out to be intended for intermediate level adult learners, and which were of as much usefulness to us as Almost Browne's blank books would have been.
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education
American Education is in the DumpsterIn fact, soon those repulsive black bugs became so fashionable among my classmates that it turned out there were not enough cockroaches to personify the Math, Computer Science, Physical Education, Literature, Geography, and Physics teachers, whose ways of educating were resented to the same degree. I guess many people would think this was just a safe emotional outlet for teenagers who were not very fond of studying and too angst-ridden to go to speak to the principal. However, this was not quite the case, because I went to an elite foreign-language high school, ninety-eight per cent of whose graduates continue their education in prestigious universities and in order to do this...