hi there how has everyone been? most of you probably having exams or so right. well, im still in the midst of assignments and assessments. if you all still have exams, well, good luck with all of them. the a level kids are probably done too - i know exactly how it felt after the papers. actually, kinda think of it, i didnt celebrate the end of the papers. i was very tired and relieved. i remember not talking or mentioning anything about the papers or how i felt i did even months after the last bio paper. sorry if i bring this up again, but it was a traumatising period. it really was, i don't really know how to describe it. i just wish that those of you who have gone thru it, don't ever make yourself go thru that again. i know i won't.

anyway, today during one of my more interesting module tutorials, speech communication, my tutor read out a very interesting poem. those of you who were in class, you'd know so u really wont have to read the middle part of this entry. it's a poem that well, is pretty much hold high relevance to us, students. warning: it's a long one, more like a story too. but like i said, if you've come this far in my entry, read it la.

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The Little Boy - Helen Buckley

Once a little boy went to school.
He was quite a little boy
And it was quite a big school.
But when the little boy
Found that he could go to his room
By walking right in from the door outside
He was happy;
And the school did not seem
Quite so big anymore.

One morning
When the little boy had been in school awhile,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make flowers."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And it was red, with a green stem.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at his teacher's flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher's.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
When the little boy had opened
The door from the outside all by himself,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make something with clay."
"Good!" thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make a dish."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at the teacher's dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher's.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn't make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
This school was even bigger
Than the other one.
And there was no door from the outside
Into his room.
He had to go up some big steps
And walk down a long hall
To get to his room.
And the very first day
He was there,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn't say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, "Don't you want to make a picture?"
"Yes," said the lttle boy.
"What are we going to make?"
"I don't know until you make it," said the teacher.
"How shall I make it?" asked the little boy.
"Why, anyway you like," said the teacher.
"And any color?" asked the little boy.
"Any color," said the teacher.
"If everyone made the same picture,
And used the same colors,
How would I know who made what,
And which was which?"
"I don't know," said the little boy.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.



doesnt it make you subconsciously review yourself, your current life and how much education you've gone thru? don't you realise youre paralleling this to your own? a reflection? funny how education is suppose to make you more knowledgeable, but yet, somehow it still removes that individuality one has - like fitting every rubber ball into a square mould, and the mould isn't very flexible. but yet, everyone has to go thru that mould. once you can't contour yourself into that mould, youre deemed as an outcast, a reject, a defected item or simply, not of any worth. though it's inevitable that we'd have to go thru that common mainstream path, but i think it's pretty important for someone to remember who you are.


every cookie can look the same or be baked the same way, but they can also taste different.

Labels: stories

coatedwithcaramel; [01:27]