Hello everyone, how are you? I hope you're all doing well. I'm fine too. My post today is especially for myself, about how we used to sit in class. As you know, there are only two kinds of students in a class: those who are very popular.
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Backbenchers and frontbenchers—the frontbenchers have always been the smart ones, the kids who think they're something and sit up front to show off so they can do something. But the real story starts with the backbenchers—yes, I was one of them, always. Sitting way in the back of the class with our quiet friends, having a whole different kind of fun, and not really paying attention to whatever the teacher was saying—because life doesn't depend on it. We figured that was all there was to it: just enjoy it, and everything would sort itself out in time.
The biggest problem for the backbenchers in class was that they were assumed to have no interest, not to understand, no focus—that they were just there to pass the time. The student sitting in the back row has a world of their own: some are lost in their thoughts, others have their own p problem and they run away from studying, but no one understands what their problems are or why they do it. It's not true that all students are like that—some are just lazy, sitting in the back row just to pass the time.
And the funny thing is that sometimes it's those very students who are observing the most—what the teacher is saying, what's happening in the classroom, and all those little memories. They're taking it all in, and later, when they leave that environment, it becomes memories for them, and at the same time, it also… Things only make sense later: that they too were someone, that they too had a place in the classroom. Those kids respect them the most. Have you ever noticed that the child who is dull in class, weak in studies, is the one who respects the teacher the most? Maybe that's why bakers are known for their respect for teachers, whereas far The nerd, on the other hand, is always remembered by teachers because of his talent, his personality, and his obsession with becoming someone.
In the end, I'll say to my father that the last row isn't just a seat; it's a whole world where every student sitting there has their own story they're keeping hidden, and when the time comes they're reminded of their worth and the value of their place. Now, perhaps that time has already passed, and Now if he wants to succeed, he has to take life's hits, or maybe his luck will favor him so that he's living an even better life than the front-benchers. It's all a matter of fate. Just sitting here, it occurred to me that there's a p between front-benchers and back-benchers. I'm writing this because I myself was a back bencher and I've really enjoyed my life. Maybe I'm not using the right words here, but I can't even put into words how we used to meet friends and how times changed. Now there's probably no time left, and no friends either. Back then, when there was time, there were no friends. Now there are friends, but no time. I'm not sure how you all spent your lives—whether you were front-punchers or back-punchers—but please do let me know. Thanks.