"Have you considered Ritalin." The young man asked the organism. "I caught creativity myself a few years ago, and found that it helped me."
Wilfred the fish didn't understand why the humans talked to him. He swam left, or right, up or down, aging and aching.. but the water was kept clean.. at least. Here was some young man in a sweater vest, coming from some place full of buildings where people who couldn't think for themselves paid money to hear adults to speak their opinions, with as much poise and pride as those aging teachers could muster, and then control the students' self-esteem based on forcing them to learn the subject, as these greyfaced adults viewed it, in a set time-frame and format.
Even a little fish such as Wilfred, swimming to and fro, couldn't see how belittling one's self-esteem through the modern strictness of grading, and the excessive push towards memorization in a uniform, one-size-fits-all social format, was intelligent-- nor for that matter, indicative of an institution supposedly supposed to suppose its intelligence to current and potential supporters of its shaky suppositions. In some act of defiance, some rebellion against fish biology itself, Wilfred spoke, or at least thought about it in his little fishy head, "Your lack of creativity is a lack of defiance which is why you were stupid enough to drug yourself towards a supposed higher intelligence, and your lack of creative intelligence will follow you throughout life, as it likely has most of your teachers."