Educated A Memoir
⛰ What It’s About
tara’s journey from born in special familiy that very religious (mormon) until she got her scholarship and finaly finishing her master degree.
🔍 How I Discovered It
from amazon best book, Goodreads recomendation, telegram, basically from everywhere.
🧠 Thoughts
Education is the most powerfull thing. I think this is the only sentence that can represent this book, at leats from me. I found this book very complete, it can motivate, entertaint, make sad the readers.
There are chapter state about every first tara encounter something new, e.g sitting in coffe shop, her first kiss, her first fight with dad, etc
🥰 Who Would Like It?
I tempted to say ‘everyone’, because they will realize this book is related to our daily life
[[Most valueable quote]]
The skill I was learning was a crucial one, the patience to read things I could not yet understand.
Last accessed on Friday May 7, 2021
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My strongest memory is not a memory. It’s something I imagined, then came to remember as if it had happened. The memory was formed when I was five, just before I turned six,
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If So-and-so’s blood pressure was high, she should be given hawthorn to stabilize the collagen and dilate the coronary blood vessels.
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The professor recited facts in a dull, earthy voice: the average age of onset is twenty-five; there may be no symptoms before then.
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all the decisions that go into making a life—the choices people make, together and on their own, that combine to produce any single event. Grains of sand, incalculable, pressing into sediment, then rock.
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“They’ll swallow anything if it brings them hope, if it lets them believe they’re getting better. But there’s no such thing as magic. Nutrition, exercise and a careful study of herbal properties, that’s all there is. But when they’re suffering, people can’t accept that.”
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The skill I was learning was a crucial one, the patience to read things I could not yet understand.
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It didn’t belong. It couldn’t be taught to belong.
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had begun to understand that we had lent our voices to a discourse whose sole purpose was to dehumanize and brutalize others—because nurturing that discourse was easier, because retaining power always feels like the way forward.
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It’s strange how you give the people you love so much power over you,
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“That place has a hold on me, which I may never break.”
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“First find out what you are capable of, then decide who you are.”
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There is no difference. Except the difference you make in your mind.”
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I read them to learn what to think, not how to think for myself.
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Whomever you become, whatever you make yourself into, that is who you always were. It was always in you. Not in Cambridge. In you. You are gold. And returning to BYU, or even to that mountain you came from, will not change who you are. It may change how others see you, it may even change how you see yourself—even gold appears dull in some lights—but that is the illusion. And it always was.”
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“The most powerful determinant of who you are is inside you,” he said. “Professor Steinberg says this is Pygmalion. Think of the story, Tara.” He paused, his eyes fierce, his voice piercing. “She was just a cockney in a nice dress. Until she believed in herself, then it didn’t matter what dress she wore.”
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Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery None but ourselves can free our minds
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I understood that they were talking about feminism. I stared at them as if they were behind glass.
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“If you act like a child,” I said, “I’ll treat you like one.”
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I’m a mother, she said. Mothers protect. And Shawn was so damaged.
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It wasn’t that Dad was half out of his mind, or that Mother followed
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The past was a ghost, insubstantial, unaffecting. Only the future had weight.
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There are some photos from today that might help me forget the grove, I wrote in my journal. There’s a picture of me and Dad happy, together. Proof that’s possible.
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Everything I had worked for, all my years of study, had been to purchase for myself this one privilege: to see and experience more truths than those given to me by my father, and to use those truths to construct my own mind. I had come to believe that the ability to evaluate many ideas, many histories, many points of view, was at the heart of what it means to self-create. If I yielded now, I would lose more than an argument. I would lose custody of my own mind. This was the price I was being asked to pay, I understood that now. What my father wanted to cast from me wasn’t a demon; it was me.
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I did not study. I tried to read but the sentences meant nothing. I needed them to mean nothing. I couldn’t bear to string sentences into strands of thought, or to weave those strands into ideas.
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The thing about having a mental breakdown is that no matter how obvious it is that you’re having one, it is somehow not obvious to you.
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Why it’s better to think yourself lazy than think yourself in distress, I’m not sure. But it was better. More than better: it was vital.
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You told me your story so I could stop you if you ever did something crazy. Well, Tara, this is it. This is crazy.
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Until that moment she had always been there. No matter how much I appeared to have changed—how illustrious my education, how altered my appearance—I was still her.
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You could call this selfhood many things. Transformation. Metamorphosis. Falsity. Betrayal. I call it an education.
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