It's a picture of a teacher giving bad advice, or doing something that contradicts what she just said. That being said, most of these pictures really speak to me. Throughout my school years, I, like everyone else, have had some great teachers, some forgettable teachers (good at what they did, got you through the year, but you don't remember them), and some horrible ones.
The bad ones were able to teach just fine, but for whatever reason I simply did not like them. Either my anxieties about schoolwork and life in general affected my concentration towards the class, or the teacher did or said the exact things that caption these pictures, leading to distrust and apathy.
This one in particular pretty much affected my approach to school and work in general. I had LOTS of teachers who did this, and it led me down a dark path of apathy. I was anxious that I screwed up something...and the work isn't checked. Or I forgot to do something/just plain didn't do something, and nothing happens. At a very young age (I kind of like to think this was middle school, but I remember this behavior starting around grade 3), I began to think "Why bother? No one's going to know or care that I did anything."
I was a stubborn kid, and I developed into a stubborn adult. Hell, now that I think of it, I don't think I even consider myself an adult yet, and I'm 24 years old. It's pretty hard for me to change my ways if I get dead-set about something, and I've mostly begun to regret this. I've been an underachiever, but unlike the Bart Simpson of yesteryear, I ain't proud of it.
I'm slowly changing my ways, with an unfortunate emphasis on "slowly." Before I sink into this week's bout of depression, here are some other examples:
I blame you for my back problems, middle school history teachers. And that one asshole in the seventh grade that pulled on my heavy backpack full of textbooks that made me fall of a bike rack I sitting on and injured my back.
One of my biggest fears, and it's probably why I used to be very uncomfortable about reading anything out loud. I keep thinking that I'm going to be "the bad example" and be laughed at for it.
I'm okay with this, but it's the reason why I never re-used notebooks for several classes until college came along. Those binders would be gone for days at a time, and I'd need my notebooks for my other classes.
Fuck you.
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