I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the author's curiosity about people's experiences and emotions within the school environment.
In this quote, Stephen Chbosky expresses a deep sense of curiosity about the lives of both students and teachers in a school setting. He contemplates not just their professional roles but also their personal feelings and histories, highlighting the complexities of youth and the shared experiences of heartache and academic pressure that many face. By doing so, he invites us to consider the interconnectedness of individual struggles and the importance of empathy in understanding one another.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of understanding each other in school, this quote emphasizes empathy.
"I hate you." My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me.She really did. "I love you," was all I could say in return. "You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." "I'm trying not to be.” Then, I turned around and walked to my room and closed my door and put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.
So, I looked up, and we were in this giant dome like a glass snowball, and Mark said that the amazing white stars were really only holes in the black glass of the dome, and when you went to heaven, the glass broke away, and there was nothing but a whole sheet of star white, which is brighter than anything but doesn't hurt your eyes. It was vast and open and thinly quiet, and I felt so small.
If you care about somebody, you should want them to be happy. Even if you wind up being left out.
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.
So, tomorrow, I’m leaving. And I’m not going to let that happen again with anyone else. I’m going to do what I want to do. I’m going to be who I really am. And I’m going to figure out what that is.
She wasn't bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.
How can the oppressed, as divided, unauthentic beings, participate in developing the pedagogy of their liberation?
A teacher's major contribution may pop out anonymously in the life of some ex-student's grandchild. A teacher, finally, has nothing to go on but faith, a student nothing to offer in return but testimony.
School days, I believe, are the unhappiest in the whole span of human existence.
I think I am more determined than ever in my future plans, and I have quite made up my mind that nothing must be suffered to interfere with them. I intend to make such arrangements in town as will secure me a couple of hours daily (with very few exceptions) for my studies.
Reading is the gateway to so many things that helps makes it possible for seven billion people to live together on one planet. Literature is the great extra-somatic keeper of our knowledge of what it is to be human. Reading elevates us. We read to be our best selves.
True education is awakening a love for truth...opening the eyes of the soul to the great purpose and end of life.
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