I still sometimes think about the guy in my lower secondary school English class in probably 2016 reading the infobox on the Wikipedia article for Tanzania, and saying out loud, "Official languages: none de jure??", pronouncing it in a heavy singsongy Norwegian accent like "NOO-nuh duh YEW-ruh??", apparently believing "None De Jure" to be the name of some sort of obscure African language rather than just meaning "no official language"
And then I remember that this was around the same time that the teacher asked what New York was named after, and I raised my hand and answered "the Dork of York". And then my soul goes nichijou_pencil_stab.mp4 for a bit
Comparatively, my parents saw what British boarding schools in the 30s were doing and saw that as a model for how to raise quiet obedient children who did ok academically and didn't have visible bruises. But then complained about our mental health problems constantly and asked why we weren't ambitious confident go-getters climbing corporate ladders. A lifetime of therapy isn't enough.
EDIT: To be clear, my parents were the ones complaining about the mental health of their kids. We were not complaining about this, we were just trying to survive with the tools given to us.
Of course, look at how the British adults ofnthe 40s and 50s turned out. Clearly ideal.