The Legacy of Lost Dreams
I grew up with teachers who could yell at you, throw you out of class, push you and punish you if you misbehaved in class. Did I ever feel like I was abused? No. Did my mom ever feel like I was abused? No. You can argue that it was the way we were taught and we didn’t know better. It was how things were done back then. We weren’t so much aware of children’s rights. Or human rights in particular and how we can stand up to defend them. I could argue that parents will always be parents and knowledgeable or not in the human rights they would love and protect their children against any form of abuse, regardless. I adored my class head master, my Romanian teacher. He was a tall man with a heavy hand. A walking and talking encyclopedia. It was amazing listening to him. He gave lots and expected just as much. There was little tolerance in not doing your homework, doing something else in class while he was teaching, committing serious grammar mistakes. He would grab your arm and throw