limited knitting content

So, I’m back at home.  Trying to write. Writing.  Catching up on some sleep and relaxation.  And I don’t know why I’m compelled to write about being at home, but I am.

hybridity v.3

You see, I spent my high school years plotting my escape.  Our guidance counselor told us not to worry about college: it was too expensive, took too long, and didn’t prepare you for any kind of job we could get.  I went anyway.  So did most of my friends.  Because the only thing to do in town was leave.

Although not surprised, I was saddened to find out that my high school has the highest per capita drop-out rate in the state of Washington.  We’re a pretty small town with two relatively small high schools.  My alma mater is one of the 22 drop-out “factories” in the state.  40% of freshmen don’t graduate.  This is not good.

I shouldn’t be lucky to have gotten out.  But I am.  And that is what I can never communicate to the majority of my students in the Ivy League.  It makes me sad.  That’s all.


5 thoughts on “limited knitting content

  1. Ah, Ms. Tuttifrutti, dispenser of well-meaning but ultimately misguided guidance. That was a sad day in American Government class, when she came in and sucked the hope and dreams out of everybody. Or at least out of the 60% of us that actually made it to graduation …

  2. What the heck is wrong with the guidance counselor to make such statements?! Aren’t they supposed to help students achieve their goals? Good GOD, no wonder we have such problems in this country!

  3. Once again, that guidance counselor sounds scary. Although I wonder what to say about not being able to communicate that to your students in the Ivy League. They should know about the state of education just as much, if not more so, than anybody.

  4. I don’t think the guidance counselor really understood her job – that’s so sad that she told you that! And scary.

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