Chronicles Conscience

Visionary • Creator • Entrepreneur • Artist • Philosopher • Writer

Building from the middle?

Primary and secondary school education systems, more often than not, teach subjects in such a way where, for younger years, fundamentals are simplified too such a point that it becomes hard to eventually expand intuitively into more advanced concepts, and specialisations.

It can be likened to learning a habit that is considered “good enough for now”, and then being expected to break this now retrospectively poor habit when the system determines itself as “ready for progression”. Foundations are laid in such a way that expansion becomes extremely awkward, due to poor communication of conceptual scope.

Establishment of a larger picture in a straight forward and abstract way is essential to eliminating the narrow window of expected understanding. A supposed approach would be the act of recognising scope without truncating understanding. There is a distinct and crucial difference between approaches: “Look, this concept really has about five different branches, but we’ll be focusing on the specifics of these two for the course”. and “We will be learning these two components”.

The continual act of misleading through over-simplification in teaching practices can lead to internal confusion within individual students, as all develop information and reasoning functions upon their own mental accord, forming a scenario that can be likened to expecting the construction of an “academic skyscraper” filling from the middle, outward.

Bear

22 Oct 2014      2 notes
– Bear

Bear

21 Oct 2014      4 notes
“The world thinks too far forward and is obsessed with moving far too quickly, that it omits the appreciation of the present.”

- Bear
9 Oct 2014      2 notes

What could it be?

How could one feel so deeply hurt by the weight of the morning air?

I have only just stepped from my door.
I hope it does not rain.

Bear

4 Oct 2014      3 notes

It was eight o’clock when I received that call –the sky was dark and the night was blue. You whispered goodbye, and cast the call aside, and I hadn’t a minute to loose.

The train was due at a quarter past a few, and I ran the hill without my shoes. I reached the train, in yells and scares, and what happened next was a kind of nightmare.

The doors had shut after all that I had run, and it was not enough to stop you from what you had done.

I miss you, my son…

Bear

2 Oct 2014      4 notes
– Bear

– Bear

28 Sep 2014      4 notes
“It’s like wanting to leave as soon as you arrive. Because you’re desperate to be apart from these strangers that merely gossip and yell. It’s so loud there. So crowded and autonomous. I just want to be away from them all. These lunchtime crowds do not interest me. I look for the company of one, or two at the most. I look to talk, not about the weather, but the storms that brew within my heart and mind. I want to be greeted with understanding and venture, not a shrug and a guess, for I want to know, not what you think they know, but what you, yourself know.”

- Bear
14 Sep 2014      6 notes
Evolution.

Evolution.

14 Sep 2014      4 notes

Too many thoughts burn through my mind –if only they could warm me in this winter; it’s the least they could do…

Bear
18 Aug 2014      8 notes

i don’t want to seem impatient.
but when the whole day has felt so long,
and my eyes burn with exhaustion,
and my mind ticks over the nostalgia
of your presence and warmth,

i simply want to talk to you
and hear everything you have to say
–fall into that third plane
of contentment and affection.

as work buds and grinds my conscience
until i struggle to type in sensical succession;
that’s when the five minutes feels so much longer…

Bear

14 Aug 2014      3 notes
– Bear

Bear

11 Aug 2014      9 notes
– Bear

Bear

11 Aug 2014      2 notes
– Bear

Bear

11 Aug 2014      3 notes
“Tell me the stories of your mind’s worlds…
I want to hear it all –the lights, and the shadows.”

- "Moments with you."Bear
11 Aug 2014      20 notes

The chill of the floor tender upon the surface of her limp figure. A drop of emotion from the corner of her eye. It slides quietly, descending to an inevitable moment where it is cast, holding on dearly to the ripe yet numb cheek. Left to fall; and make do with the touch of tiles. It was destined to dive, to die, and to fade away. Her teardrops continue to flow. Her breath flows quietly, yet the cold left her eyes to swim through a cloud of smoke, every exasperated gasp. Then she raises her head slowly, exposing her bloodshot eyes. A tender pink tone of distress, red rivers branching out over the whites, a system of blood streams. “I’m sorry,” she gasps trying to hold herself back.

"Short Writings"Bear

3 Aug 2014      2 notes