"Course Selection"

A teacher walks in with papers in his hand.

What’s real noticeable is the black font, contrasting this white sheet of paper.

This white sheet of paper is supposed to organize and outline my courses.

The courses I take will shape my future.

So, is this white sheet of paper enough?

Is it going to help satisfy my ambitions for the rest of my life?

No, it’s not.

I’m expected to have this filled out within one week.

7 days, 168 hours.

How the fuck am I supposed to know what I want to be, what I want to do with my life in one week?

15, and I stand at 5’3.

How am I supposed to know what I want my life centered around?

So this paper,

This white paper, filled with black ideas of what each individual might want to become,

It’s staring at me, and telling me, “It’s your life, you choose.”

This isn’t helping me at all.

God, and the font…

The dreaded “Times New Roman”

It’s completely stoic.

Not offering me any condolence, any comfort

I’m left sitting here, thinking so hard about what I want to do

You’re not helping me

You’re mocking me

At the top, sitting high and mighty, are the course selection boxes

8 slots.

8 opportunities for me to become successful.

And then there are two boxes that sit underneath.

As if they were jokers at a court.

Beside them reads, “Choose two Alternates carefully.”

Carefully.

In parenthesis it says, “Alternate choices are very important.”

Important?

They’re my alternate choices.

This

Is

Screaming:

“You have a possibility of never succeeding, so pick two okay choices that you’ll be guaranteed a spot in.

Excuse me?

We get an education to become successful.

That’s why I’m here.

What are you telling me now?

This stupid black type tells me to pick two, two, not one.

Two.

Because I’m not the only competing for success.

So there will be a few who actually make something of themselves, and then they’ll be me and the majority of the population.

Making a decent life, but nothing exciting.

Or glamorous.

Or ideal.

Or anything that will make me happy.

But I’ll make a decent living, and that’s what I’m forced to settle for.

What’s real noticeable is this black font, contrasting the white sheet of paper it blankets.

And it’s telling me:

“Hey, it’s your life. You choose. You decide. You probably won’t ever win at this life, but you’ll survive, and you’ll never understand what success is.”