School's Out Forever!
By Roe, age 17, OmanHey Diary (I never got 'round to calling you 'Dear Diary' - contrary to common opinion, I reserve my 'dears' for people who can talk back. No offence.)
So this is it. The end of school. I've been in this school for thirteen years straight - right from when I was a smarty-pants bossy kindergarten-er all the way to now, when I spend all my time either playing Table Tennis in the Multi-Purpose Hall or in the library, preparing for the ever-present monthlies, mock exams, qualifying exams, and of course - Finals. With a capital F.
My journey in this school has been roller-coaster-crazy. And I don't mean those ugly caterpillars in which you rode when you were ten and yelled even though you were perfectly vertical the whole time. Nope, I mean the likes of the Cyclone at Coney Island with its pleasure-pain principle which we're drawn to, and yet once we get off it we cross our hearts and hope to die - and never get on that thing again. I started off in Kindergarten with a bunch of enemies (due to my naturally bossy nature), managed to get them all over to 'my side' by third grade for exactly the same reason, and lost them all over again by eighth grade - only to become totally oblivious and change my company entirely by eleventh grade. From friends, enemies, and frenemies to every single grade ranging from A to U, and being Teacher's Pet to Most Hated Student Ever, I can proudly say I've had it all.
I've never been the dull kind. When I was in second grade, my uniform consisted of a pleated pinafore with a pocket on the front right side and a zip on the right. One morning, half asleep as usual, I wore the pinafore with the pocket and zip on the left and didn't realize it until a friend pointed it out to me. (No, this is not the best part.) However, instead of going to the bathroom and changing, I pointed out that she was wrong, that I was wearing it right.
To prove, she pointed out the rest of the girl-population in the class. "Look," she said. "They all have the pocket in front."
"Well," I said with a smug smile, "how do you know they're not all wearing it wrong and I'm wearing it right?" Even she had to mull over that one.
Throughout the years I participated in anything and everything - the certificates ranging from mono-acting, debates, elocution and public speaking to the sack-race, the shoe-race, shot put, long jump, table tennis, badminton and basketball give evidence of that. I used to love studying and attending school till around ninth grade, when the inevitable happened - we grew up. This, together with the fall of my school ("going to the dogs" was how we put it, but I still have two months left before graduation and my pen name is not foolproof), the collection of the most terrible, insulting, and boring teachers I have ever met (and hope to meet), and a general introduction of unnecessary rules (we were to wear a very specific kind of trouser, and anything other than that would result in us being sent home) made it so that I started, for the first time, to ditch school. I would go once or twice a week and try to cover up what I'd missed. Needless to say, it didn't work. There was this strange zombie-like feeling - you would see students half asleep drag themselves to class in the morning, and drag themselves back home in the afternoon - and I tell you, it was extremely depressing.
I remember this Code of Conduct that we just couldn't get rid of - it had the most illogical and strange rules. It was read out to us in the morning assembly, distributed numerous times, terrifyingly enlarged (whole and cut up) and put up in every bare inch of wall in the school. Students made altered versions of it and wrote unmentionables on it, but it always seemed to reappear in all new glory. Come to think of it, you have to admire their resilience.
So that's how I thought I'd end school - hating everything and just getting through - when I was proved wrong once again. Right now, I have two months left until graduation. I never thought I would say this, but there are certain things I'm going to miss. Like the Table Tennis tables. I'm not wildly happy - the teaching standard is still terrible - but I've reached a calm. I've taken the minimum amount of subjects I need, I'm focusing on being nice to people and helping them (and that has a strange satisfaction, mind you), and I'm doing what I like without any pressure.
I have done things that will leave their mark here. I've made mistakes, I've had my fair share of drama and joy and down-in-the-dumps, in equal measures. But no regrets. Never regret. Come May 2012, I'll be graduating a happy girl. And now that I sit here, doggedly ignoring my Advanced Trig assignment, I'm thinking: I would do it all over again if I had to.