I’m feeling uninspired.

Again, I must complain about today’s youth — I spent an entire day trying to inspire our future.

I’m exhausted. It feels near impossible.

I have no idea whether our generation was just as bad. I know I did my share of mouthing off — but my complaint was that I’d rather be reading Shakespeared than a textbook, not …

I’d rather be shooting people on a video game and I hate reading or learning or anything that has to do with either.

What is to become of us?

My generation, I beseech you. Raise your children differently. Read aloud to them. Take them on walks. Teach them to explore and think for themselves.

Sometimes I worry that people in my school might read my blog and I’d get in trouble for it.

But after a few weeks with these kids, I realize I could post it on my whiteboard and share it with each of my classes to read it everyday.

I’d be completely free from worry.

I’m completely safe there.

So I’ll just write from my desk at night — and during the days, I’ll take pleasure in the irony.

It’s a pleasure short-lived though, looking at the contemporaries of my daughters. Will there be any match for my daughters in the world? It looks like slim-pickings. We’ve raised them so differently. Will they be lonely? Oh well. So what. We’ve just got to do our part and hope for the best.

But I worry when I teach. I worry a lot.

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