Category Archives: writing

School systems have failed

School systems world wide have failed.

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Every school in every city in the world is failing as you read these lines. The argument defending school systems is is laughable when we see the world we live in — violence, numb sleepy minds, disregard for nature, wars, no jobs, racism, and rampant ignorance.

To defend the world’s school systems is to be blind to the chaos we’ve been spiraling into. We erected part-time jails for our children (yes, I have children) to waste years and years of their lives in useless trivialities with the utmost stupid way of evaluating them.

It’s like having Ussain Bolt learning all-things skiing, and telling him the goal in life is to ski at Aspen. Poor Ussain Bolt wouldn’t be the fastest human on the planet, but surely the most frustrated one. Well, all kids are having this problem. We all had this issue.

And those are first-world problems to say the least. In countries like here in Mexico children are taught to be employees or factory workers, not innovators. Systems like these only create robot-like flocks instead of artists and scientists.

You wonder why there is no cure for cancer? It may be locked in one of the millions of numbed minds in the workforce (or unemployed). Worried to pay bills, watch sports, and envy on materialistic things, the cure for cancer may be doomed to never be known. Or teleportation for that matter, or the solution for peace in the Middle East, and such.

Schools are so important that the moment they failed (and they did) the world begins to look as the dark ages or Colonial Mexico. With inquisition-like institutions and lack of quality debate. The way we think has become less scientific, less spiritual, less artistic, less free, while being more stupid and frivolous.

If you’re interested in fighting the system check my novel, Till Stars Shut Their Eyes.

There Is Always Another Day — Shortstory.

Photo I shot at Cholula, Mexico.

The sun went down to hide behind the volcanos. That afternoon was really chilly — a typical Central Mexico summer day. I was walking behind the huge Cholula pyramid temple (or what is left of it). Away from the usual tourist path, I discovered this track and field place. The air turned colder and windier as if the day hurried in vain despair to make its presence known, when it was well aware its death was inevitable. Suddenly the sky bled, gushing to the mountains and to my skin. The red hues signalled the looming demise of that day. And with his head high and proud the Sun realized it could not hold any longer but to fall into a dignified death — it was its time. So the Sun slowly descended into the pitch darkness of the underworld, not without glaring a final goodbye for a day that will never be again. I turned and no one was watching. So I realized the mighty Sun was waving at me, regal but sadly. My hands swiftly went to brag my trusty camera. But when I took it in my hands, it was actually an old camera. I was furious to discovering this camera instead of the new one I had. The final day’s light suddenly shone my eyes, they were reflecting below my. The Sun did not wait for me, for death does not way for anyone, not even the shiniest of stars. All it could do was to give me a monumental farewell that lit the clouds. So I took my camera, and trusted it would take one final photograph, for it was too the end of its life. Barely I could make it work. “This is it”, I murmured to my old camera. One last light for one last photograph. Two lives fade, two lives willing to leave one final effort for each other in order to be remembered. I shot the photograph, and then my camera blinked into its death. As I struggled to turn it back on the Sun blinked as well. I lifted my eyes towards the west, and the light dimmed into its doom. As the wind ceased and the cold became harsh, I sat to mourn. The two have died but not in vain, for both gave each other a chance to be remembered of their existence as one. It wasn’t just a sunset or an old digital camera, it was majesty. Their death was not unsung or ill-remembered since it brought hope for goodness in this world. Darkness now reigned but I thought, “there is always another day.”

Cholula Sunset. Copyright 2015 Miguel Omaña.
Cholula Sunset. Copyright 2015 Miguel Omaña.