In Every End, There Is Also A

We're In English Class, Which For Most Of Us Is An Excruciating Exercise In Staying Awake Through The Great Classics Of Literature. These Works - Groundbreaking, Incendiary, Timeless - Have Been Pureed By The Curriculum Monsters Into A Digestible Pabulum Of Themes And Factoids We Can Spew Back On A Test. Scoring Well On Tests Is The Sort Of Happy Thing That Gets The School District The Greenbacks They Crave. Understanding And Appreciating The Material Are Secondary.

I Am Creating An Atmosphere! Oh, Unc, We’ve Finally Got Bodies In This Joint! Paying Bodies. We Could Have A Good Racket Going Here.” “i’m Not Interested In A ‘racket.’ I’m An Academic.” “that’s Okay, Unc. I Won’t Hold It Against You.

The Vicar, Whose Name Is Reverend Waite, Leads Us In Prayers That All Begin With 'o Lord' And End With Our Somehow Not Being Worthy-sinners Who Have Always Been Sinners And Will Forever More Be Sinners Until We Die. It Isn't The Most Optimistic Outlook I've Ever Heard But We're Encouraged To Keep Trying Anyway.

I've Been Poked And Prodded In Places I'd Always Prided Myself On Keeping Untouched For That One Special Doctor Who Gives Me A Ring And A Promise Someday.

There Is An Ancient Tribal Proverb I Once Heard In India. It Says That Before We Can See Properly We Must First Shed Our Tears To Clear The Way.