what you're taught might destroy you

certain things can’t be taught
but can be stunted by other things…
I learned to draw as a child — faces,
silly horses, landscapes, you name it…
now my artistic prowess is limited
to erratic and hyper-abstract doodles
in a memo pad while I’m mostly
bored as hell on a phone call…
I used to make amazing sculptures
with play-doh…I used to navigate
funhouse mazes and look for secret
passageways — now I can’t find my way
out of a box if my life depended on it…
I’m glad in a way, that I was never
formally taught how to write when
I was young, otherwise, surely
they would have killed that in me too…
I used to love without fear,
yearn without limits,
speak without restrictions,
and fall without crippling doubts…
I used to talk to strangers in the street
and go weeks without sending an email
I used to walk everywhere without
counting a single step — now I pace
my living room, hoping a few extra
strides might keep me further from death
learning is life, and knowledge is power…
and yes, experience is truth,
even up to the final fucking hour…
but let’s not forget, we can also be
hamstrung completely
by the things we are taught,
and if we don’t allow ourselves to play
and grow and explore without structure
or rules or regulations or dogma,
we’ll be ruined in a very real way…
so please, help me evade the curse
of a kind of sick dogged learning
whose only agenda is to prune
and carve and whittle away at us, until
there’s no humanity left on the bone

Garbage Notes:

This poem is about how sometimes formality and structure in education can suck the life out of the thing you’re passionate about.

Traditional educational techniques are not for everyone. Some people like to learn on their own. They like to stumble and fail. Trial and error can be the greatest teacher.

Self exploration and the freedom to make mistakes can be very valuable. Accountability comes from within.

If you don’t have external pressure from nagging instructors or institutions who are personally invested in your learning, then the only person you have to answer to is yourself. And there’s power in that.

I remember I didn’t enjoy being taught about literature in high school. I think the main problem was that I was being forced to read books I didn’t want to read. Now you can’t get me to put down a book of my own choosing.

I also remember really enjoying drawing. And then I took some drawing classes and all people kept asking me about were my drawings and how my progress was coming along. And the whole thing started to feel tedious.

Somehow the thing that I liked to mess around with in my free time became something with higher stakes, something with metrics. When it should have always been about fun.

I have to be careful now that writing doesn’t become like this. That I remember that I primarily do it for my own joy and personal growth. And that the only learning that I ever need comes from the act itself—comes from the doing. Allowing each piece to teach me everything I need to know.

Franco Amati 2026

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