I’ve stated my inspired master teachers a time or two but would ya know that i graduated highschool by getting held back from algebra 2, failing the class by sleeping through while sitting in the front row… ya see morning is not my best time to learn arithmetic, but something about sleeping in the theta resonation allowed me to soak up information on another level I feel.
My tutor was a physically handicapped boy two grades younger than me, and you would never know that his cerebal palsy only hurt the others worldview of him, he taught me a ton about formulas and whatnot but even still, I failed algebra 2 with a d minus.
So i was offered a digital class online that made me study arithmetic if a different kind, trigonometry through the wisdom of Benjamin Franklin and reading his biography.
Sure the multiple choice and short essays made the comprehension factor of the class the main goal. but i passed that online class to get my diploma from a high school that was 3a in terms of athletics, a small demographic made for recruiters to scout for ivy league prodigy’s, small ratios of students to teachers and great chances of a winner in the state fair semantics and policies of outsourcing talented diamonds in the rough of the quarry. my transcripts put me in the lower 76th percentile, and college challenged me by putting me in a c-team style home group.
The misfit group of kids either not being challenged enough, or smoking too much weed to care about academics.
We tried our darndest to get some kind of passing grade, at least for the first semester, then we tried real drugs. ecstacy, acid, mushrooms and music taught us how to drop out of college and discover our own worldview. counter culture, sub.mission, bass music and trance, getting higher on fraternity, even if it was only honorary.
We felt legendary until we were told to pay rent or get out…. guess I shouldn’t have slapped that exit sign on camera and kept it in my dorm room.
They charged me 9 Grand for skipping rent to buy a snowboard, and there I was teaching families how to fall safely. I taught every demographic, all they needed was the will to learn and for the next 5 years I earned a name, a space in the history books as I upgraded and updated the manner with which we teach contact extreme sports.
Unfortunately, the only ski area that knew my name was the local privately owned ski area that was not connected to corporate.
So there I was with no fallbacks, just five years of experience teaching tourists how not to break a bone, and a whole different side to my single, homo lifestyle.
I had to quit when my mother got a promotion that made a conflict of interest the reason for my inability to get a paycheck from the company that employed me from the time I was 14.
Unfortunately, the amount of paperwork I found proved our car insurance was sandboxed into a junk yard server, the place I sold my Volkswagen to for a Benjamin, cause an electrical short grounded the negative and circulated a structural heat wave through the security system. That system, as reliable as it is, tells the manufacturer about a stolen or rewired post-warranty break of seal. Thus the investment I made could be completely reliant upon the owner, and the insurance agents who agreed to a lie, one so obviously fake yet perpetuated since 2016.
The unfortunate part about the junkyard was the offer of five nights stay at a hotel, which arguably hijacked my entire account, replaced the windshield in the Jetta and covered up every paranoid inkling I could have about how somehow was sabotaging my entire lifestyle. it was personal but anonymous, and I don’t know for sure if the assailant knew who I was or if they just did this for a living. I continued on a wrote my entire plea of life out on this domain, only to have the same weird stalker feeling behind this whole thing.
I will keep going cause I’ve got life experience to pull all this shit from, schedule one clearance for first hand account verifying my word as my trust that as far as I know I’m telling the truth with this personal expression.
we’ve all got a story, and I want to hear from you… but it seems that I’m blocked from your browser and your Intel is flawed.