Much of literature study is to try to find some angle that haven’t been covered a lot before, to be original and stand out from your peers and those who have gone before. It is a time to pretend to be oh so clever.

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This first year has been quite similar to college in that we’re studying units, and so we have to write papers and tests for those units. Soon we will have to do it for the units we did during the last term.

Next year we’ll be more independent, and that’s when I’ll specialise more toward literature history than the current curriculum allow. But to do that, I will have to pass the benchmarks, and I will have to find some clever and original angle to pursue in this paper.

It almost feels like last year when there was a sport in finding some spectacular thing to write about that would impress the old battle-axe of a teacher I had back then. But as we’re all supposed to be adult and mature and that now, I’m drawing a blank.

“Write something!”, Mark says when I moan about it. But he doesn’t really understand what a quicksand literature studies are. For his courses, he has to show ability and understanding in maths and processes and forces. That is simple compared to figuring out if the way Oscar Wilder put one foot over the other indicated that he was an early riser or not.

Okay, I exaggerate, but sometimes my course feels kind of trivial, because of this constant need to be clever and original about writers. If it was about books, it would be all right, but it’s not. It often is nothing but a vehicle for vanity.

Does that sound disparaging? I don’t mean to sound so, because I really like school. I feel like I’m this detached agent that go around the fringes of student life and watch and dive into knowledge that’s piled high in the libraries and networks.

Except for the times when I have to don my clever cap and step into the circle of attention and earn my continued place here; then I can moan about it, like now. Don’t pay too much attention to it. I’ll live. And I’ll be back soon at the periphery with Ben and Abbie, and we’ll study the menagerie and compare notes. Maybe we’ll even learn something.

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