Performing without learning

PalmTo begin, I want to formulate a thesis: academic performance has nothing to do with the pleasure of learning, with the layer of knowledge that shapes us as people and gives us a worldview. Academic performance is rude. Just consider that it's expressed with a decontextualized, depersonalized, inhuman number... In short, rude, in the sense of crude, lacking refinement.

My academic performance was good enough in high school. I usually didn't fall below the latest material, but I didn't learn much. I've forgotten almost everything. I would cram words and numbers into my head so they would later fly off and appear on the exam paper, but when they landed, they vanished from my life. I no longer remember anything about metrics, nor about the books they made me read in Literature class—so disconnected from the realities of the world—I can only recite the first Latin declension, and we no longer talk about the rivers of Europe or the capitals of the world. Everything has gone as fast as I memorized it. I was lucky because I didn't have to invest much time preparing the information to use. But it's sad that I didn't enjoy learning until I entered university and became an adult.

In fact, now I enjoy learning much more. Because I'm chaotic and can jump from one book to another. I don't have to listen out of obligation, and listening has become a pleasure. Sometimes I learn quickly, and other times I go very slowly. The most magical moment is when I know I'll never forget something I didn't have to memorize. That's what wonders do: they dazzle, warm the mind and heart, and leave a mark that many teachers would envy.

It saddens me to see my children forced to perform academically. I didn't tell them this; it's this gray, harsh, and cutthroat society. My son drags his feet to the classroom every morning. If he wants to train as a musician, he has to go through this ordeal. It's clear that there are people who are musicians without any formal qualifications. But we aren't gifted, and we follow the path of the majority. My daughter cries night after night: her grade has been lowered by two points. It's no longer excellent, and it feels like the apocalypse is coming. She feels that a number will determine her future, and the present is passing her by amidst tears, with few laughs.

I can't tell them to ignore it all, that it's not the end of the world. But I also won't tell them that I like that world. I'll hug them when I get home and ask them how their day was.