High school, four years, twenty-something classes later—and then what? For all the time spent in high school, little time is devoted to scrutinizing the institution itself.

Much of the academic aspect of high school points to a common purpose—consume knowledge. Essentially, the knowledge in high school can be divided into two distinct categories—practical knowledge that will be “useful” later on, and knowledge that will not. Every single standardized test capitalizes on the practical knowledge—the obscure facts that drown on in bleakness.

The impractical knowledge, the knowledge learned for its beauty—that’s what constitutes the hallowed high school experience. Perhaps poring over the tragic flaws of Gatsby. Perhaps falling in love with Wallace Stevens. Perhaps fidgeting over the difference between equivalence and implication. All the while I know that none of this will ever be on a test and I probably won’t “use” any of this in a career.

Here’s the thing: I don’t mind. Not at all. I don’t mind how anyone could mind the euphoric sigh that results from feeling that every point of the universe can be traced back to a bird’s cry (shameless plug for Wallace Stevens’ poem “Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself”). Later for moments of comfort, I turn to Sylvia Plath and her passionate rages. Rage, rage, rage.

Practical knowledge, spoon fed with coaxes, does not ever match up to this intensity. Now for those who wonder about how to go through high school education, I say this: discover and explore. Spend hours on the “not useful” with the same intensity on the “useful” required.

Discover beyond a standard curriculum. Discover. Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll dig a hole that you can’t escape from. So, it’s 1 a.m. the night before school starts, and you know you’ll be groggy the next day, but LISP (a quirky programming language that swears by parentheses) captivates you like nothing else.

Those are the moments to live for in high school.