Education grows into a market, where parents invest with avarice. They want a doctor or an engineer, not a man, in return. Artistic sense and athletic spirit are asphyxiated. Teachers are accomplices. Children smolder. They can’t see Robert Frost’s two roads. They learn theories, except that of living. Ashes of freedom and non-sprouting knowledge remain. Bachelors of Frustration multiply in the competitive world. There’s a young soul too among the bats fluttering from a breadfruit tree. Sadly, we repeat, ‘It’s sad.’ First appeared in The Literary Hatchet