I learned about stream of couscousness in eleventh grade. I was in an accelerated english studies program, which meant I didn't have to worry about learning like the dumb kids (trigger alert for the parents of idiot children). Instead, I got high a lot and engaged in a bunch of meaningless discussions about writers who (whom? fuck off) I thought should have been anything but wrtiers.
One of these writers was James Joyce (apologies to all you Pretentious Pollys who masturbate once a year to the audio rendidtion of Ulysses).
My English teacher, a borderline pedophile named Mr. Figg (left his wife for a former HS student and then left her for a box of Girlscout Thin Mints), would get a little erection everytime he talked about James Joyce and stream of consciousness. I remember him getting all excited about a paragraph where the character is peeing in a mens room. Whee!
Another thing about Mr. Figgg (named cleverly altered to protect the unindicted). He was my tennis coach. I was on the first doubles team and we had just locked up being eligible for the county finals. On my last match before counties, Mr. Figgg told me that I would not be in playing in the counties, choosing someone else because he felt they had a better chance against a team that I had lost to during the season). This pissed me off. So, after I won the match, in front of both teams and about 20 parents, I took off my uniform on court, down to my jockeys. I walked off the court, Put my uniform in Mr. Figg's hands (oops I mean Mr. Figgg), and said...
"Good Luck in the finals." Then I walked the 100 yards to my car, crossing the main street, and drove home.
This was after school hours and off school property.
Nevertheless, the next day I was called down to the principal's office. Mr. Figgg was there. The principal asked me if I did what I did. I said yes.
He asked me if I had anything to say. Since I was high, I didn't realize they wanted me to apologize. I didn't think I had anything to apologize for, because I didn't do anything until after I won my match. So I said no. I was suspended for four days and not allowed to model for the prom show (which would have snagged me a free tux rental).
And that's why I hate stream of consciousness as a genre.