So I got a lot of hate/criticism from so many places (how people find me on facebook is still beyond me) about the “Hate. School.”-post. Flickr, Facebook, comment section, digg, reddit. None of you seemed to read the disclaimer. I’m not justifying my lack of interest in school by showposting Gates, Zuckerberg and Jobs as poster children saying all drop-outs are successful. Far from it.
But just the same, your emphasis on the education system is not justified by bashing my view. Which is just that – another point of view. It’s not the absolute truth. And of course there are jobs that require degrees and masters that are near-impossible to get regardless of good contacts and self-marketing (hello, neurosurgeons). Many of you wrote that I have no idea how people look down on you when you haven’t finished school. The truth is – I’m learning to not care about those people. And you should too.
“You want to blog professionally, you eat more than horses, you never work-out, you’re building a school, you go with your emotions, you don’t study… You think you’re going places with that, kid?”.
The future is not written in stone, this I know – however – I’ve learned more this past year from blogging, travelling and dreaming than I have in years of schooling. More about myself, the world and the unquestioned rules we set for ourselves. The theory we learn in school are hard if not impossible to implement in day-to-day life. We learn how to bend verbs and adjectives. We learn how to read graphs and charts.
But when you’re in Spain and the police-officer is interrogating you in a rough mallorcan accent – how will you deal? When you’re given a time-frame to draw an intricate diagram of the costs of fundraising for your school – how will you deal?
Take my friend Elliot as an example. When I met him – he was an absolute language catastrophy – sorry Elliot if you’re reading this. He had studied Spanish for about six years in school. His vocabulary when I met him some odd two years ago? “Hola. Me llamo Elliot. Puta madre.” And I’m not even sure if he knew what puta madre meant.
After three months in Brazil?
Due to some… medical issues he cuts his trip short. And due to some personal dilemmas of mine I take a break from Africa. We meet-up in Stockholm at our old schools café. Oh, the irony. We chit-chat and catch up on each others lives and then suddenly he changes gear. He speaks to me in beautiful, breathtaking northern Brazilian Portuguese. Fluently. Mais ou menos as he said. aaah #dies. The cherry on top? He now understands Spanish without having to learn it.
Money? Income? Independence?
You say none of this would have been possible without funding from my mother. This is also true. I wouldn’t have accomplished anything without her. But her role in my life is greater than letting me lead this amazing semi-jet setting lifestyle at age 17. She is everything. Although I have a great relationship with everyone in my family now, my birth was something beyond their maturity level at the time. And I would have died and/or rotted away in some unloving, violent and god-awful slum hadn’t she kept me safe. But that’s another story.
Here’s the truth. I want to break free before finishing high school. Steady income, you know?
I know the numbers now. I know what I want for now. Most importantly – I know that I can do it now. That’s my advantage -I have clear vision. And little by little – things are beginning to “unfold” sort-of-speak. And hints about how to do it are found in the weirdest of places.
If you’ve read this far I’ll make you a promise. When I succeed – I’ll make an over-the-top, flamboyant music video singing “FREEDOM!” on the savannas of Kenya surrounded by cheering Masaai children. Cheers