Why would I bother to write a blog post about a stinking eraser that’s ten years old? I asked myself that question after writing that post, couldn’t come up with any significant answer, then left it aside.
Perhaps I thought it would be a good sign that I hadn’t abandoned my blog to any readers that may have been wondering. Maybe it was some sort of introspective metaphor that I had come across while my mind has been thinking about the contexts that teachers find themselves in, and how they are best able to act within (that’s the assignment I’m currently working on).
Or maybe it was that the eraser, in some bizarre and obscure way, actually meant something to me. But how Thomas? How could an eraser mean anything to a person? I don’t quite know, but I was very hesitant to throw it away, or leave it where I had found it. It may be because of the fact that it hearkens back to a time when everything seemed ‘simple’ and I had no where nearly as many troubles as I do now. Through that, I might have been able to still have a solid connection back to those times (where, otherwise, I would not feel such a connection – I’m a very ‘solid evidence’ based person).
I can tell you that I got that eraser in a ‘starter pack’ when I first went to E.H.B.T.H., what would turn out to be the best educational experience I would recieve. You got a whole bunch of stationary, paper, books etc. And this eraser was in it. I had no real need to use it because of my use of pen, but it came handy during art classes. But, spending so much time in my pencil case, it developed this hard and touch shell, which meant that if I tried to rub something out, it would smudge the page and not actually ‘rub’.
Now having a useless rubber, in the boredom that was one of my classes one day, I chopped off, with the scissors that came in the same ‘starter pack’, the sharp edges that remained on the thing. Some time later, I must have left it in the study, as that’s where I found it today. And, some ten years later, I dug it out of the draw it must have been rattling away in.
I don’t know, this is a rather useless post, other than the fact that I get to mull over my childhood and early teenage experiences, instead of doing something else that is … well … useless.