Garbage Brain: Paulo Freire
My junior year in high school, I had a very interesting relationship with my chemistry teacher. She was a brilliant woman who desperately wanted to stuff my brain with thousands of facts and theories about Avogadro and his infamous mole. However, I was the student who liked to challenge the teacher. I did not just sit back and accept all this nonsense simply because Mrs. Alexander said this was this and that was that. I wanted to know why? How? And I was never afraid to ask either. I remember one particular day; we were learning how to predict chemical reactions. I don’t know if I was having a brain fart that day, but not a word that escaped Mrs. A’s lips made sense to me. So, I began asking questions. I told Mrs. Alexander I didn’t understand and I asked her to explain the concepts again. I wanted to know why a set of reactants would form certain products and how to make these predictions. I could tell Mrs. Alexander was getting irritated and her patience was burning up, but that did not stop my prodding. I was determined to continue asking questions until I understood every word she said. But apparently she did not want to deal with my interrogation; the next thing that exploded out of her mouth was not chemi
Her eyes bulged from her head as I imagined steam shooting out of her pores. I could see the outline of purple veins hardening beneath her skin as her face reddened with anger the same moment mine was marked by embarrassment from her harsh words. However, she was not done. My confrontation with Mrs. Alexander that famous day in class changed my entire attitude towards formal education. She forced me to acknowledge the separation between them and us: the faculty, who has power over the curriculum and grading, credits and degrees, and the subordinate students, who do what they are told to get the rewards of certification and a good grade. She forever distorted my opinion of educators and my role in the classroom. I subsequently realized that changing Mrs. Alexander’s role, or her teaching pattern would be impossible, and a detriment to my grade or existence in that class. As a result, I learned that seldom is knowledge presented in a way that solves or works to solve problems, which the student actually has. And I understood that my conformity was more important than the amount of knowledge and understanding I gained of a subject. “What is wrong with you?” she screeched. Her unforgiving words sent chills down my spine as her screams echoed throughout my brain. I was shocked. I could not believe I had just heard such callous, insulting words come from my teacher!
Some topics in this essay:
,
Paulo Freire,
It’s Freire,
junior school,
Join now to see the rest of the essay!
Approximate Word count = 937
Approximate Pages = 4 (250 words per page double spaced)
|
Example Essays Home
