The story you are about to read is true. The names have not been changed to
protect the innocent. [And the lady you see in today's image is so not of my
former secondary school teacher, Mrs. Hayek.]
|
Yes, that's teach, mistress Hayek
|
Most lads had to take the entrance exame multiple times, not me. Guess the
teachers immediately understood what made me stand out. Looking back I am
terribly proud of what my secondary school did for me. It was a long, harsh
journey - but one that made me the man I am today. Back then I felt different.
If you're a rebellious teenager, everything is stupid. Especially the alphabet
and boobs. Don't worry by the time I was 14 I'd grown over my dislike of
books. Funny how that happened. Once my interest in books spiked, my grades
began to suffer. My secondary school prided itself on preparing us for elite
universities. No-one was left behind. Something which is hard for a 15-year
old boy who has developed a sudden crush on books and refuses to study.
Desperate times, desperate measures, which is why they brought in a special
needs teacher. It only made things worse. In fact, it corrupted me for life.
Mrs Hayek's teaching methods are also the reason you're reading this blog now.