проекты личное разное

.:Проза — To Teachers

О тексте

Тут мне товарищ один (Веталь, привет!) скинул текстец, который я писал настолько давно, что даже не помню, когда и по какому поводу . Точно только одно – это было давно, год этак 1998-99, когда я еще английский знал

There is a question that burns in my mind and to which I find no answer. Some times
it keeps me awake at night and sometimes it distracts me from my daily chores. It is
there, standing out against the background of my conscience like the legendary
Colossus. And in vain are my attempts to find a way to solving its mystery. A
question. Just a few words intertwined to give this continuous itching within my
brain that wakes me up in the morning and brings me to you, my teachers.

So what is the question?

Here it is: What are you teachers? From what dream have you come to this earth and
blessed us with your presence? What keeps you coming to this building every day and
share your knowledge, no, your wisdom with us? Why? We are nothing but wind, we fly
by and into the future. There are myriads of us who come and go before your eyes and
still, you manage to see each and every one of us as somebody special and give us
everything you know, not asking for anything in return.

And I am ashamed. For we do not even think about giving anything in return. Not a
single word of gratitude, so often not a single grain of respect for people who have
dedicated their lives to us, who often have nothing in their lives but us, who spend
years filling our heads with knowledge, checking our papers, trying to find a way to
breach our ignorance and fill us with awe and respect for the world around us.

And still… we somehow manage to be oblivious of their struggle, thus making it so
much worse. We take what they give for granted. And, for some reason that escapes me,
they let us take it.

They are patient, my teachers. And in this, they are so much more wise than we, who
care nothing about tomorrow, and so often do not even care about today.

Yet they, my teachers, they know what is future, and they prepare us for it, no
matter how difficult it is for them to do it.

Thank you.

No, that was not right.

THANK YOU MY TEACHERS for what you are, for being here for me. And though no words
can express my gratitude, I will simply repeat it again… and again… and again…


Комментарии к тексту




Dmitrii \‘Mamut\’ DImandt

I was young and stupid :)