Let me give you another reference point.  I know this teacher; I sat in their classes for years listening to them drone on and on about subjects I have no interest in.  I listened to them explain to me that &#x27;[the next test] will determine my future&#x27;.  This is the teacher that told me I needed to take 3 years of Spanish in high school or I wouldn&#x27;t get into a good college.<p>I know this teacher well, because I was one of their students who started smoking pot.<p>I went to the beach.  I dove in the surf, laughed with my friends, tossed a frisbee, smoked a bowl and fell asleep under the light of the stars listening to the waves crash in.<p>I went to a concert.  A symphonic metal band opened my ears to creative possibilities that I had never before imagined.<p>I started hanging out with different people.  I had previously associated mostly with high academic achievers; most of my new friends were on a different path.  They were from the other side of town. They hung out in the school&#x27;s computer lab, and so did I.  They were also some of the most kind and loyal people I&#x27;d ever met, and I still count most of them among my closest friends.<p>At the beginning of sophomore year I was ranked 3rd in my class.  I graduated 7th.  This teacher was very disappointed in me.<p>I graduated college with a ridiculous job offer at a growing tech company building systems that save lives every day.  Most of the students who slurped up what this teacher was offering didn&#x27;t realize it was horse shit until they finished school and had to move back in with their parents.