Let me give you another reference point. I know this teacher; I sat in their classes for years listening to them drone on and on about subjects I have no inter

Let me give you another reference point. I know this teacher; I sat in their classes for years listening to them drone on and on about subjects I have no interest in. I listened to them explain to me that '[the next test] will determine my future'. This is the teacher that told me I needed to take 3 years of Spanish in high school or I wouldn't get into a good college. I know this teacher well, because I was one of their students who started smoking pot. I went to the beach. I dove in the surf, laughed with my friends, tossed a frisbee, smoked a bowl and fell asleep under the light of the stars listening to the waves crash in. I went to a concert. A symphonic metal band opened my ears to creative possibilities that I had never before imagined. I started hanging out with different people. I had previously associated mostly with high academic achievers; most of my new friends were on a different path. They were from the other side of town. They hung out in the school's computer lab, and so did I. They were also some of the most kind and loyal people I'd ever met, and I still count most of them among my closest friends. At the beginning of sophomore year I was ranked 3rd in my class. I graduated 7th. This teacher was very disappointed in me. I graduated college with a ridiculous job offer at a growing tech company building systems that save lives every day. Most of the students who slurped up what this teacher was offering didn't realize it was horse shit until they finished school and had to move back in with their parents.