How School Led Me to Believe I Was Stupid Well Killing My Creativity

I vividly remember my grade one teacher tried to humiliate me in front of the whole class. It was around that time some of my classmates and I learned a new skill. We would stick our index fingers in our mouths, as we closed our lips around it, pressing it every so elegantly against our cheeks and with a quick flick of the finger, it would make a loud and annoying (according to the teacher) popping sound. After the teacher refused to let this debauchery interrupt her trying to teach us our ABC’s, she loudly said, “the next person to do so will have to do it in front of the whole class.” Me being myself, decided to push the limits and purposely made another “pppop.” Soon thereafter I found myself in front of the class getting to do it in front of everyone, and the whole class just thought it was hilarious, apart from the teacher of course. Little did she know that would kick start my career as the class clown.

By grade two, my first crush would sit in front of me, her name was Beth. Great, now another reason not to pay attention in class. Up until I was about 10-years-old I had a terrible speech impediment. My grandma said all her kids went through it and it naturally went away with age. I recall the grade 2 teacher asking me a question, and she made fun of the way I told the answer. After that, I would become a mute in that class, arrogant bitch. They tried the whole speech therapist thing, and Hooked on Phonics, etc., it was all a waste of time, as it was every little bit of ineffective. Just let me go outside and play, where I can utilize my imagination, instead of being confined to a desk in a prison like four wall room, with a chalkboard and a boring ass teacher who likes to make fun of seven-year old’s.

By grade three, I was playing my own head games with the teacher. Her name was Mrs. Cree, and I made a point of not letting her see me smile entire school year, which I succeeded on doing. Later, I would learn in psychology that it was a sign of me subconsciously crying out for help. She did not say anything until the last day of school, when she finally asked me why she never once got to see me smile? I think my response was, “I don’t know.” Now, if I could go back, I would ask her, “why it took until the end of the school year to ask me?” Dummy.

By grade five, I would have the opportunity to do that grade all over again, as my grades were well under par. Another sign of a subconscious outcry, I justified it by letting them convenience me it was because I am a December baby and my mom just put me in school too young. If I had any confidents left inside of me, it was now destroyed like paper going through a shredder. I lucked out and we moved to a different town, so I didn’t have to go through that torturous class again. The second time around as the new kid in a small town, I did not have many friends. I did exceptionally well that school year, having high grades that I would never see again. Although, I did get 100% in drama in grade 12. As I drug my ass just squeezing by, barely passing the rest of my grade school career, I did make it through, somehow.


In grade 10, I had an English teacher who hated men, as her husband was a bad alcoholic. To prove she was unfairly marking my work, I plagiarized a paper that my friend wrote the year before. She had received high 90’s on that paper, where I only received a 72% for the exact same thing word-for-word. To understand where this crappy school system came about, I will briefly describe the history.

We are no longer living in the late 1880’s and early 1900’s, during the height of the industrial revolution. Where public school was invented so they could condition young people from an early age to stay in the same spot for 8 hours a day. Thanks to that illiterate fat Henry Ford dude, whom by the way dropped out of school in grade 5, he would go on to invent what was called: the assembly line. Adults don’t really do not want to stand in the same spot for at least 8 hours a day, never mind a child. The textbooks were filled with many biases, it was okay to learn about other countries checkered past’s. But I don’t recall ever learning about the genocide first nations peoples had to endure in this great nation of Canada, and I won’t even get into residential schools, as are textbook never.

Research shows the best way to get the maximum performance levels in grade school, especially elementary school are as follows:

  • Don’t start class until at least 10 am
  • Only limiting school to 5 hours a day
  • An hour lunch, with two other breaks
  • Only healthy foods, no sugar, fried foods, etc.
  • Let the students pick their subjects and give them a wide verity of options
  • Teach theology at a young age and let the kids decide what religion they want to follow—if any at all
  • No homework—Period.
  • Most tests, test your memory, and not your knowledge—we should probably eliminate those all together
  • Less sitting, more hands-on activities
  • They should start the morning with a yoga/meditation practice, followed by the ancient Tibetan Buddhist breathing techniques to get the proper blood flow to the brain
  • Teach kids a martial art for discipline and self-defense
  • Teach kids the Wim Hoff Method from the get go (if you don’t know who Wim Hof is, watch this and it will blow your fucking mind, I promise)
  • Make post-secondary education free everywhere


One thought on “How School Led Me to Believe I Was Stupid Well Killing My Creativity

  • December 28, 2017 at 7:41 am

    Definitely agree on no homework and later start times. Yoga and the art of meditation ‍♀️ would be amazing…we should have it at work too. Off now to google Wim Hoff.


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