Systems in place
September 29, 2011
I sit in this cold space, filled with processed air and processed thoughts. On the surface, pieces of paper, one printed and one blank. I pick up my pen and begin to write: “The…”
I can’t continue. Honestly, I did not pack the books into my head. I have no names to throw out, no facts, no theories, no quotes, no graphs, no. I try sticking my finger down my throat but all I cough out is air and spit.
On one sheet are written the questions. What do you want of me, I ask the writer. Do you want me to prove that I spent hours moving words from the books and slides into my head? That I can reproduce somebody else’s definition and ideas? Do you want me to show you how much time I spent in the quiet place among the rows and rows of like-minded individuals staring at notes and laptops? No, of course you don’t.
You want to see my passion for the subject, oh yes. You to quantify want my understanding, you want to give it a score, based on an arbitrary scale. You want put my paragraph beside a list of bullet points and play spot the difference. You want to draw the curve, and place me neatly among the others, and admire the figure. My guess would be that your ultimate aim is to educate.
Maybe I’ll ask this anyway just to be sure, would you rather I write, or do you want me to WRITE?
