Since I was writing about homework last week, I got to thinking about other school memories. Like books, for example. Join me on a blast from the past, all the way back to... uh, about ten years ago. This is the age of Aquarius my school days, the stories of textbooks and paperbacks that teachers tried to educate us with. Grab your 3D glasses (that looks like sunglasses) and make some popcorn, because this will be a wild ride.
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| Okay, this is old-school 3D, not the more modern version. But doesn't this scene look epic? |
In junior high, one year we got new textbooks for history class. Each book was assigned to a specific student. I hated lugging my book back and forth between school and home when I had homework, especially since I already had a load of stuff crammed in my backpack without that one. After a while, I just decided to leave my copy at home. If we needed to use our textbooks during class, I could just take a spare copy.
Now, the textbooks, when not being used, often got left on a table in the classroom. When we needed to use the books for history, we grabbed them from the table and took them to our desks. People often just tossed the books down carelessly and let them pile up in a dishevelled mess.
Since my book was at home most of the time, it didn't get thrown around or shoved into a backpack much. At the end of the year, it was one of the nicer looking textbooks of the lot. In comparison, some of the other books looked kind of beaten, and mine was pristine.
At one point in high school, we were told to each take a book and write a history report on it. (Dang, history again.) I took an old, battered paperback about the Battle of the Bulge, one of the battles fought in World War II. If I recall, the paper had to be five pages, or some length that felt rather long. When you don't find what you're studying to be very interesting, page requirements tend to seem bigger.
Anyway, I was reading this dry, dry text, occasionally writing down any points that seemed relevant. And as I was turning the pages, I noticed that they were barely hanging on. I mean, the book was in sad shape. After a while, the pages just straight up began detaching from the rest of the book. So it was literally falling apart as I read. I must have had a hundred or so disembodied pages. I just tried to make sure I didn't lose any of them, or get them out of order.
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| The Battle of the Bulge was so traumatic, it made the poor book go to pieces. |
I finally finished the book and the report, and turned on the paper. We also had to return the books to their place. "So, uh... just thought I should let you know, the book I took kind of... self-destructed as I was reading it." I told the teacher. I mean, I felt bad that I was returning the book in worse shape than when I got it. But there was really nothing I could do to prevent the calamity, other than never reading it or touching it or breathing on it.
So that's a couple of stories about school books. (Somehow, all my most interesting stories are about battered history books. How did that happen?) So, uh, feel free to comment, or follow my blog, if you want more weird and random content like this.
Until next time, folks!
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