Parsley people

January 14, 2012

As I write this I am very lazily allowing the world to pass around me from the serenity and solace of my bed. Dreading the knowledge that Ronald McDonald owns my soul and today has decided I must earn my penance, I’m contemplating the physics of time delay.

But I need sustenance for my brains unusual activity levels, at this point, delightfully, mother comes to the rescue. She just shouted through to me an interrogative of what I would like from the (overpriced) waitrose. My reply was simply, ‘ooh! Pasta and meatballs please!’ as any man knows, that’s the ultimate, unannounced, comfort food. After a few seconds of silence, the unsure, wavering response I got was, ‘parsely people?’…

Naturally I laughed with all the noise I could produce, but then I realised that this is a frequent joke now. My mothers hearing is dwindling and just how hilarious really is that? Suddenly, the implied infinity of years that parents own hit the back of my mind with Santa and all the careers I listed as goals in my infancy.

So what to do about this sudden realisation that my mother will, one day, be much like my dear grandmother? Simple, drain it of all the laughs I can before the world turns serious. Time is an infinite concept and principle, and I personally intend to laugh my way through the tiny amount I’m rationed like the unimportant microbe I am.

This is just what it boils down to. Everybody has their own dramas, in relativity to themselves. Some cry and mope and milk it for a cheap, passion voided hug, others buy a saddle, and cowboy the fuck up. Time will always be a pain in the arse and will always win. But there is nothing to stop us laughing at it.

Jack Robinson.

Advertisements

What would I teach?

January 13, 2012

So I was watching Taylor Mali’s poem about what teachers make, and I wondered what I would teach. Don’t get me wrong, there are fantastic subjects out there, the only problem is that they’re being shat on.
What happened to passion? What happened to humanity? What happened to enthusiasm? It died, simply. We learn how to pass exams, how to succeed materialistically. But how do we succeed as people? Simon armitage wrote beautiful poetry when he was a prison warden. He wasn’t a jet setter, he was a warden. But his soul was so high in the clouds it was reaching the heavens. But what happened to the poet? His second best was published in an anthology to be distributed to unwilling youths who resented it on principle. So what class would cure this? A human class.

Children are just that, children. But from pre teen ages they’re forced into decisions to shape their lives. Stop! Why do we let children choose what adults they’re going to be when they’re only just out the astronaught faze? No. They have to be immediately productive. Britain prides itself on being completely anti communist, we are a subtle china! Childhood is about fifteen years of eighty, it’s the most vulnerable, susceptible and pure years life will ever know. It’s time for discovery and wondering, not oppression and in box thoughts. But this innocence is ever more unobtainable when passionless teachers lecture soulless syllabus’ to produce ’empty’ people.

Somebody tell these beautiful mounds of clay that they can be a masterpiece without an array of A grades propping them. The sarcastic teacher believing their witty remarks fly clean over their students heads don’t realise that their sarcasm discus’ into students throats.

Tonight I allowed myself to completely acknowledge that I am in love. Finance and education could not have meant less as I looked at the adonis beneath me and gazed into the eyes belonging to the most beautiful soul. Please, there is a teacher out there who knows that the growing seeds they’re nurturing are more than pathetic letter based qualifications. You’re teaching more than just a classic book that’s reputation is defiled to unctuous youths. You’re teaching passion, willing and unconditional love to those who need it.

I volunteer at a special needs school on my day off from college and every second with those flawless people warrants so many joyful tears. Drop this bullshit of forcing books on those who just aren’t interested, teach them that love and honesty fuels perfection and everybody is and always will be perfect to somebody.

Teachers, I admire you. And in my drunken ramblings love you all. It’s the system that is flawed.

I leave this with two quotes.

‘the system might fail you, but don’t fail yourself’

‘society is based on how it treats it’s most vulnerable’

Create beauty, we all can, just look inside those who still have hearts.

Jack robinson.