i have lived enough years of life

for people to categorize me into a word
i don't think i even belong to yet:
"Adult."
and i have gone through fourteen years of school 
for people to expect something more

as female is to childbirth
student is to higher education
the way that
who you are activates a process we forget is optional
the way that the process is a double-standard:
the expectations
yet the outrageous distress, the heavy bill

when i was little
i wanted to watch a biological documentary
instead of play with my friend
and she glared at me
and i knew i was odd, but i knew
education didn't think so
spelling bees didn't think so
consecutive years in honours programs didn't think so
awards and scholarships didn't think so

you love the people who take you as you are
if education was a person, then, i'd have
been in love with it

an all-natural love affair with the world around me
learning through the eyes of role-model teachers and well-written textbooks and articles
me taking the seat in the front of the room
because i wanted more focus towards the lectures
i was fascinated.
satisfying, organic love.

but the initial half of my senior year felt as if
my bones were stuffed with college applications
the quintessential interview heard 'round our world:
"where do you want to go? what do you want to major in?"
we are currently measured in the exact figures of how much student loans we will pay off in four years time

i like approval
and the "u.s." of "a."
told "us" to get "a"'s
so our gpa's would be high
and our transcripts would be beautiful

i watched people receive "b"'s and tell themselves they weren't good enough
i was one of them
i watched how, though "cp" stands for "college prep,"
the "cp kids" are still stigmatized because it's not "advanced enough" to the money-holder's liking
("cp" should stand for "courageous people")
"community college" and "state school" are still met with subtle uncertainty within the ears of those whose lives have been mapped out for the UCs and ivy leagues and private universities

living or make a living? two different things more often than not presented to me as mutually exclusive ideas.

my dreams are processed through the collective societal mind and will be under microscopic scrutiny unless the numbers in my future paycheck are satisfactory or my prestige is flattering and if filtering is necessary "passion" will be scraped off first.

you love the people who take you as you are
and if education was a person i'd
question the steadiness of our relationship
the "who is giving more?" dilemma
for you fill my brain but empty my bank account
you assuage my curiosities but unsettle my future
you give me the freedom to think and speak but my verbal riots are stifled

i think i am in love with the idea of you
but not your institutionalization