and no, still not my photograph…
The process of learning here, translated…
A day in my last year of middle school, I sat on the chair, recalling the words of my mother from the previous night, I got too distracted, to review over my lessons, I’d gazed at the text, with the covers closed, on my desk, and gazed up at the phoenix tree by the gates of my school, the red had, dyed the tips of the branches, signaling that goodbye would be, imminent. The classroom was overcome with silence, every now and then, you’d heard, the sound of the students, flipping to and from the pages of their texts, most of my classmates are too drawn in by their entrance exams, feeling the tenseness, and were, unaware of the goodbye that’s about to happen to us all.
But, before my eyes, was a road, totally, different compare to theirs—because my household needed a seamstress, and, as the eldest daughter, I was forced, to give up continuing my education, and poured myself into work, to help better the household economics.
On the eve before leaving middle school, I’d walked, lost, in the corners of the schoolyards, recalling the better days when I had the chance, of chasing and playing with my peers. On the graduation, everybody sang Aude Lang Syne, I was reminded of how this was the end of my experiences in learning, that I will have nothing else to do, but, burying myself in the sewing machines, I felt, extremely, saddened.
The very next day, my mother had, prepared for me, a brand new sewing machine, to help me embrace the next stage in my life. But, my moods were, still, not lifted, day in, day out, I’d stepped on the pedals that got heavier and heavier by the day, thinking of how my other classmates were, living their worry-free schooling career. After several days, I’d not wanted to get trapped, and not wanted to disobey my parents, I’d decided, to count on myself, used learning, to open up a brand new door for myself. And so, I’d, entered into a nearby bookstore, breathed, in the air of knowledge, reached toward the bookshelves, picked a book, that’s, fitting for me.
When I’d had the spare time, I’d eaten through the pages greedily, and, in the process of reading on my own, I’d managed to, get rid of my own agitations, and gotten encouraged from the words and paragraphs, and the essays I’d thumbed across, no longer was I, trapped up by my self-pity anymore. My reading materials ranged from the literatures to the philosophies, I’d not feared the dryness of the materials, I’d only hoped, that through thinking on the words again, and again, I can get that psychic connection to the writers; at the same time, I’d written in my diaries, as a way, of conversing with myself, to increase my written communication skills.
Started that summer, I was on, this road, of lonely learning, but, I’d also, pushed myself, even harder, drilled myself more, accumulated my abilities, and slowly, I was able to, let go of that scent of loss I carried, from not continuing my own education.
and no, still not my photograph either…
And so, this, is a story of how to make it happen, because she couldn’t continue her graduation, and she didn’t want to give up on her learning processes, so, she’d found, alternative ways, and this still just shows, that learning occurs, OUTSIDE of the classroom settings, so long as you’re willing to learn, there are, lessons, everywhere, for you, to seek them out.
Life, the Obstacle Course 