( "Incomoda, que algo queda"... ) Carlos A. Torres Velasco: profesor interino, uno más entre miles en este bendito país: una sociedad incapaz, en apariencia, de afrontar con valentía y real determinación un fracaso descomunal; de consecuencias tan graves y prolongadas que aun apenas se vislumbran del todo... Me refiero a la EDUCACIÓN... ¡Y hablando de FRACASO!: más de diez años de profesión, más de diez años... Afortunado al principio (no lo pongo en duda), mas lastrado por debacles recurrentes (e inexplicables), tras siete oposiciones... Puede que sea el primer ciudadano que, en circunstancias semejantes, se atreve a exponer, pública y abiertamente, esta VERGÜENZA (¿mía?); este asunto sangrante, doloroso, devastador... absurdo y estéril.
Profesional, educador, padre, ciudadano con un punto de vista "político" claro; persona, ante todo y en suma... Todo lo pongo en evidencia, aunque sin vocación de mártir: tan solo me niego a ocultarme, a cargar con toda la responsabilidad de lo que me pasa... ¡de lo que NOS pasa! Porque en esta sociedad tenemos más de un "armario" que airear. Un saludo a todo el que se atreva.
No quisiera terminar esta introducción y bienvenida sin mencionar que las fotos -la mayoría de ellas- y demás material gráfico que se ve en este blog es obra del que se dirige a Vds. Espero que les guste.

Hi! This is Carlos A. Torres Velasco. I am a Spaniard teacher of Art in a Secondary School of Santander (Cantabria... No, not a bank!), and so I have been since 2001. The problem about addressing Anglo-Saxon people (or rather: almost any other people from wherever in the whole world) is that... you won´t understand a single word of all this! And I am sure the point of such a case will be difficult for you all to grasp: something about striving for a decent and professional way of living; something that has to do with wasting almost your entire professional life in a sort of "limbo"; with dignity and apparently aimless purposes too...

I spent quite a long period in Northern Ireland, and that is why I know the sort of "logic" that pushes forward your societies and the individuals within. Where this sort of "logic" is concerned, Spanish society is a far removed (very "stiff") kind of structure. Actually, this could be said about any aspect you might single out: politics, economy, industry, universities, investigation, trade... And such a "huge mistake", as it were, pervades ALL in this country; obviously, education, as a whole, is affected too. Our personal lives as well: very deeply.

If you don´t have the "guts" to dive so profoundly, then just "enjoy" my few photographs here and there. I hope you will not be discouraged... Thanks a lot!

domingo, 18 de marzo de 2012

UN HIMNO

Me la dedico a mí mismo... No es, exactamante, mi historia (a mí ningún tío me ha dejado nunca un "capitalillo"), pero el "espíritu" está ahí... Voy a tener que poner en este blog una "etiqueta" llamada MÚSICA, shouldn´t I?... A ver si así la gente se anima...



 
Now you're lookin' at a man that's gettin' kind a mad
I had lot's of luck but it's all been bad
No matter how I struggle and strive
I'll never get out of this world alive.

My fishin' pole's broke, the creek is full of sand
My woman run away with another man
No matter how I struggle and strive
I'll never get out of this world alive.

A distant uncle passed away and left me quite a batch
And I was livin'g high until that fatal day
A lawyer proved I wasn't born
I was only hatched.

Ev'rything's agin' me and it's got me down
If I jumped in the river I would prob'ly drown
No matter how I struggle and strive
I'll never get out of this world alive.

These shabby shoes I'm wearin' all the time
Are full of holes and nails
And brother if I stepped on a worn out dime
I bet a nickel I could tell you if it was heads or tails.

I'm not gonna worry wrinkles in my brow
'Cause nothin's ever gonna be alright nohow
No matter how I struggle and strive
I'll never get out of this world alive.

I could buy a Sunday suit and it would leave me broke
If it had two pair of pants I would burn the coat
No matter how I struggle and strive
I'll never get out of this world alive.

If it was rainin' gold I wouldn't stand a chance
I wouldn't have a pocket in my patched up pants
No matter how I struggle and strive
I'll never get out of this world alive.
 
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