Late-Night Drinking -- A Rant

     Just a note in advance; if you think you are offended easily, I would avoid reading this post.

     These past two weeks, my English teacher has been constantly repeating a single phrase. Sometimes it's a statement, sometimes it's a question. The idea remains the same:

Has any of this been ruining poetry for you?

     I always feel my answer is no; I feel that I can easily handle the class, and even though I spend an hour or two working the hundreds of poems my teacher throws at me, I still understand them. I feel I take these poems like one would take wine at a tasting party.
     I take the poem, and give it a long whiff. I shake it around a bit, and try a sip. The words flow into my mouth and settle on my taste buds, washing them over with a unique yet bitter flavor. My expression sours, and bystanders might see my nose cringe or my lips purse; a normal reaction for this kind of experience. I mull the poem around inside of its cup, letting the red drink breath. Once again, I bring the glass to my lips. This time, something's different. The taste of sweet grapes fills my mouth, saturating the spaces all the way through my nostrils with the strange aroma of alcohol. My palate soars with flavor. I sit back with satisfaction, reaching for a chunk of cheddar, and selecting another drink.
     That was a way to describe that, wasn't it? Every other night, I attend these tasting parties. I whet my appetite with so many different selections of prose. It's one of the many reasons I enjoy reading so much. Even when poems have deep subliminal meanings, I feel I at least have some grasp of understanding on what I am reading.
     So what is the problem? Well, that's easy. The problem is that the whole experience is ruining poetry for me.
     Despite my deep adoration for written language and poetry, my English class in general is something I am beginning to despise. My goal past graduation is to major in English, eventually becoming a teacher of the same subject. The whole idea of me hating my English class must be outrageous to some. The situation is complicated, a whole other story, for a whole other day. What I have made clear to several people though, is that my belief is that the class isn't challenging enough.
     I selected an AP course this year specifically to be challenged in my education. Of the five AP classes I am taking, or have taken, four have succeeded in being challenging; AP Literature, the class I am in right now, has failed to meet that criteria. Maybe it's because I understand the course so well that it is a breeze for me, but I have an entirely different opinion.
     I feel that many of the students in the class do not give the effort required for an AP course, and it's reflecting on the class as a whole. Our teacher has been forced to sit down and explain the poems to us, as if he were teaching a class of freshman a work of Shakespeare for their first time. Students who are called that cannot give an answer, can ask for someone else to be picked. Don't get me wrong, there are several students who do put the effort in. I'm only pointing out what I have noticed from an extremely skewed perception. 
     When I wish to answer a question, I'm asked to put my hand down and let another student try. I  understood the logic behind this when the year first began, and gladly adhered to my teacher's request. Now I am into my second, and final, semester of high school, and I'm still receiving the same request.
     Tell me, am I still intimidating to students who choose to stay silent this far into the year? Or is it just an excuse for why students aren't participating? Am I seen as a know-it-all McSmarty FartyPants who's expected by the class to know every answer? To be brutally honest, many times I find myself having the completely wrong answer. I can't voice my opinion to know if I am correct though, and it leaves me distressed.
     The challenge that I feel in every AP class simply diminishes when I step foot into my English class early every other morning. I want to just walk out of class sometimes and not come back, because I know it would not make a difference. I want to sit in the corner and spend the class period enlightening myself, rather than wishing to participate. Participating in class feels like a chore now.
      So that's the rant I have prepared for you on this cloudy, dark night. I would like to note that if I did offend anyone, I am truly sorry. I felt it was necessary to express these feelings that have built up for so long. I don't want to compare myself to anyone and emerge superior, because I sure as hell know I'm as average as they come.

      Now I am off to a wine tasting. Late-night drinking is my favorite pastime.

Hobey ho,
-- Nate



(Word count: 874 words)