apparently there are only 3 types of teas...

Stereotypes.  We all think that they are bad and try our best to stay away from them.  Yet how many times have you looked at someone's feature and felt like you knew their whole story? "Oh, that all-state athlete on the wall? I bet he had a 2.0 during high school" or even better (or worse) "Oh, someone got a 40% on the test? I guarantee you it's that girl with the blond hair" We can try all we want, but society has several stereotypes that never seem to leave.

now you wouldn't expect this, would you?

In class we discussed how stereotypes restricted the way people in the nineteen hundreds looked at Native Americans.  Especially through the movie industry, Native Americans were portrayed as brusque, strident, and impassive.  However in reality, these people are so much more complex.  This really goes to show that a person cannot be described in a couple words.  We are multiplex people, amalgams of various qualities and personalities.  Because of this variety, stereotypes will never be accurate, and therefore never beneficial. In a way, these stereotypes still exist.  For example, when I typed in "Native American" in google, the top 50 images that popped up were all stereotypical faces- stern, dressed in feathers. Only by specifying, was I able to get a "reality" picture.  As humans, we are unfortunately, like google; whenever a specific group is mentioned, a very standard picture pops into our heads.  This instinct is what keeps stereotypes alive, even years after we realized how detrimental they are to individualism.

stereotype

reality

So how many types of tea are there? You've probably heard of green, white and black tea, but did you know that those categories are extremely superficial?

that's right, you didn't (stop stereotyping)

What happens if you don't have your tea...

For the majority of the time, they carried themselves with pride, a sense of self-confidence. However, sometimes everything just got too overwhelming, when even taking a deep breath couldn't help and there was nothing they could do but beg the teacher to round up their grade and lessen the homework load because there was a band invitational and there was no way they could sleep before two tonight and they begged and cried and lamented and moaned and shouted and screamed for a good grade on their test tomorrow and made a far-reaching promise to their parents that they would work hard, hoping to achieve a four point o. In all forms, this happened to everyone. Afterwards, when the test was over, they would sigh. They would close their eyes, feel tired, and quickly blink it away. They would make themselves look around. As if entering a new realm, piece by piece, everything would fall into place- the champagne colored desks, then the two freshly sharpened number two pencils, then the squeaky blue seats. Slowly, they would immerse themselves in conversation, first with those around them, then to their closest friends, becoming students again. They would shake their cramped hands from writing. They would look around them, check for a familiar face, try to keep their heavy eyes open, try to start a conversation, shake their head and start thinking about their next class. After everyone turned in their test, the class extrovert would say, no kidding, I was so stressed about that test, and the introvert would smile, which meant she was stressed, but she would never say that out loud, that wasn't her personality, and everyone thought she was supposed to be the smart one and never get tense over a test. Then everyone would be silent again, seeing the stress leave everyone's tense bodies, relaxing, savoring the peace that lasts until the bell rings.

We all carry ourselves with pride, with confidence. 

But sometimes, it just gets too much. 

(Disclaimer: This post is mimicking Tim O'Brien's style of writing in a passage from his book- excerpt is provided above in picture format)

Source: O'Brien, Tim. The Things They Carried: A Work of Fiction. New York: Broadway, 1998. Print.