Pedagogy discipline
The questions have changed. The first is about vacation time (How many? More! Whenever I want! Always!). They also ask about parking spaces (where's mine?). About schedules: the ones I've agreed upon with myself; the unscheduled schedule; time, space, everything is relative, so there's no need for a schedule... Availability? Not messages, smoke signals, carrier pigeons, and if we run into each other on the street, don't even look at me. You have to understand what I mean, right? In many job interviews, the only thing that's not talked about is... work.
These are people who have completed degrees, master's degrees, doctorates, or correspondence courses on the transmigration of the souls of organic broccoli, but have spent years with their brains grilled for reasons of plant nutrition. The problem is no longer a lack of reading, oral, or olfactory comprehension... It's existential. But of course, that happened before.
Yes, they happened. Incessantly. In torrents. One day I discovered that children don't repeat a year. Whatever you do is fine. A sum, an essay, a fart, a burp... This is pedagogy. From P-0 to high school. And then... University, work... everything is fine. Very fine. Baa ... Life isn't a kitten and a mouse who are super friends and form an association of semi-human emotions, cuddling all day long. You only scratch and zigzag life with the pedagogy of discipline. Method, strategy, procedure, rule, technique. That's how you make a house, a PVC pipe, or an argument to convince, explain, reason... But no, let it all be done by the air, by immersion, by faith, esotericism, whether it's language, mathematics, or good manners. Discipline.
No country has been built without discipline. No man. Nothing. You can't want to be a writer and not read or write. You can only live by saying: I am or want to be a writer. Of course, repeat it day and night. I say and I don't do. Theory and not practice. Catalonia is hijacked by theorists. By the unrealists. Talking about lettuce and never having seen or touched a lettuce and also legislating about lettuce. And also taking courses in... management about lettuce. And tell the farmer that he knows nothing, that he's ignorant, that things aren't done that way. Please! Our lettuce is depressed!
Discipline in the classroom and at home. A house is also a classroom. A classroom is also a home. Because all these children who are educated believing that discipline is fascism, dictatorship, absolutism... Everything the other way around: creatures of the "I" destroying the "we." Children of the "I," "I," and the "yo-yo." Well, it's been happening for a while. The Mr. Bean effect: they fall flat on their faces and believe they're alone in the world. That before them, no one, that after them, no one else. Don't worry: they'll be replaced and forgotten. But before that, they'll take revenge.
When the Jo-no-discipline have to wash their asses at the residence, the pedagogues of nothing who now say that no discipline is necessary will flatter them: tururuuuut violes! They've already had their asses washed once. May everything be fine and may they have fun until they die.