Short Stories

Made In My House

Posted on in Short Stories
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The sweat hit the desk soaking the permeable wood strands. Each drop an ode to the god, good offering among the many sacrifices.

Mother left to go to the store, bad timing to dismay her many instructions. But I continued, I never rose from that chair or seemed like falling into disrepute. Completing this test my mother gave me was paramount.

Like a whisper…

Brother beyond dispute you never gave up your dreams, to win, to conquer the enemy you were bound to face. Must you gain it you say? Is that so, but what are my dreams?

My mother keeps saying it to me, my teacher keeps saying it to me. Get an education, you need to get an education, do not forget to get an education.

What was an education? A skill, words to remember, is that a skill?

Banana, apple, no I know that like the back of my hand. Is it geography, physics, no those are the areas of expertise? What are they about? Earth forces and energies, earth in itself, so much knowledge?

Pencil point broke on question forty-five, I leapt for the sharpener and got to work sharpening the pencil’s point.

Every adult asks how my grades, am I prepared? Prepared, I never considered the idea of passing, just doing test after test. Right answer after right answer, I stopped.

Looking at the pencil, I decided this was enough to go forward with shading answer C for forty-five I moved on to the next question.

Would it be right to assume I might fail? No, my mother cares as much about this as if she was taking the exam herself. She told me I had to pass so I can go to university and live a good life.

Why was that, was I not living a good life? The pencil point broke again. Peering at the shattered head, tears welled up, breathing got laboured.

The pencil soared like an eagle and smashed like a vase. In case you are wondering, I still was not finished. What was the point?

What was the purpose? Someone tell me, why get an education? To live better, to go to university, those are not my goal.

Mr. Bethnick, you were right. It was funny I would think of him now. He was a teacher, well not my teacher. He was an art teacher, I did not do art at the CXC level. So I was not assigned to his classes when I progressed to tenth grade last year.

When I was with a friend he came over from his leisure walk and engaged that friend of mine in conversation on assignments due.

After much boring talk, he challenged us with a question. “What will you do after school?”

Being eleventh grade It was the last year for us after all and the great torturous exam called CXC awaited at the end of our time here.

When I told him I was going to university, He then asked to do what, I stumbled on that one, till I said I was not sure. A ruckus laugh came at me. It did not find seem funny.

He advised me to do my best because with good grades I can get a job, he told me to not rush things until I know where I want to go.

He said to get a job and work for a while, find something to stick with and do not wonder the earth wondering where I wanted to go. Worse waste money doing something I do not like.

My friend joked that I did not need good CXC grades to get a job,
Mr. Bethnick chastised him for saying that. Getting a job in our country is hard any advantage would be an asset. It had me deep in thought was it really that hard to survive as an adult?

It had me thinking maybe it was the same for everyone else. Exhaling in a sigh, the warmth of my exertions enclosed my body.

Getting up I took the pencil and used the sharpener on it. I twisted the tool more slowly, pausing to check how much was chiselled off. When I was satisfied I went to work at the next answer.

The sciences I liked, so I did those subjects at the CXC level. A scientist was what I wanted to roll off my tongue at the time. But even I did not know what was ahead for me in that field.

Would I like it as much as I thought I did?

That was a stagnant thought and it was bad enough I had to sit here chasing something I knew little about. But what was there other than that, going to a HEART institute and getting certified?

Well, that is an option. Yes, so is getting a job and working my way up like my grandfather did when he started out as a simple salesman, he owned his own business.

Maybe that is what is important that I have options. Looking at it, I should be happy to be getting this opportunity, so I will not waste it.

Every answer could be the answer, but only one is right. I will try and get the answer right no matter how many times it takes, no matter how many times I get it wrong. That is life, I think.

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