Friday, April 30, 2004
EGA writes:
"When I was in fifth grade my best friend told me about a school where all you did all day was make art and music floated through the halls. I pictured rooms full of breezy, gauzy curtains, where the students and teachers would sit on jewel-toned pillows on the floor. What she was describing was actually the Buffalo Academy for the Visual and Performing Arts, where I spent three years as an art major. Although I loved it passionately at first, it fell rather short of my expectations: we sat at desks, we learned math and science (although not well, for the most part), and it smelled less like patchouli than tempra paint and tepid cafeteria food. I was all too glad to shake the dust from that place and go to the Buffalo Seminary- but that's another story.
Now my old fantasy school strikes me as being decidedly unpleasant- I hate the smell of patchouli and I hate sitting on cushions, and I really hated the classes, which were like something out of a Daniel Pinkwater novel. As I watch the seniors preparing to leave Smith and embark on their grownup lives, I think about my own post-grad plans. I indulge in fantasies of studying Logic in cool white marble and steel facilities with classmates who can bend spoons with sheer mindpower.
I can't imagine where these places might be."
"When I was in fifth grade my best friend told me about a school where all you did all day was make art and music floated through the halls. I pictured rooms full of breezy, gauzy curtains, where the students and teachers would sit on jewel-toned pillows on the floor. What she was describing was actually the Buffalo Academy for the Visual and Performing Arts, where I spent three years as an art major. Although I loved it passionately at first, it fell rather short of my expectations: we sat at desks, we learned math and science (although not well, for the most part), and it smelled less like patchouli than tempra paint and tepid cafeteria food. I was all too glad to shake the dust from that place and go to the Buffalo Seminary- but that's another story.
Now my old fantasy school strikes me as being decidedly unpleasant- I hate the smell of patchouli and I hate sitting on cushions, and I really hated the classes, which were like something out of a Daniel Pinkwater novel. As I watch the seniors preparing to leave Smith and embark on their grownup lives, I think about my own post-grad plans. I indulge in fantasies of studying Logic in cool white marble and steel facilities with classmates who can bend spoons with sheer mindpower.
I can't imagine where these places might be."
// posted by Bill @ 8:45 AM 
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