I didn’t have much to begin this academic year with:
I was single.
I failed two scholarship applications.
I had no goal.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
I had no plan.
I was put in a class of unfamiliar faces, foreign characters, and distinct passions. Most of them already know where they were going, what they were doing, where they were headed.
Me? I was a clueless bird as well as an awkward turtle. I didn’t know how to navigate myself around, despite being in the school area for ten years and counting.
Without realizing it, though, I had a love-hate feeling towards my homeroom teacher (which I refer to later on as admiration), I was caught in the midst of smurfs (no, really, we all wore blue shirts during our class trip), and I was in the middle of a very noisy mass of people that was comfortable with each other.
I had received a few warning messages about my homeroom teacher, but I chose to disregard them. She is an extreme perfectionist, and our class was first united because we had tried to meet her expectations, only to fail every single time. I wouldn’t rule her out from my favourite teachers list, though, because I actually admire her. I admire her very much. Ever since the first meeting, I saw that she had a meticulous personality which allowed her to be very precise with her time management. I saw her caring side for the very first time when I gave her a letter which stated I was sick and couldn’t join a few classes, when I met her in the halls and she asked the name of my best friend (later I found out that she had actually turned to my best friend to find out why I was absent), when tears were streaming down my face and she gave me advice nobody else would have thought of.
Even though a large number of students have grown to dislike her, I could never be one of them. She had touched me in simple actions I never would have expected would come from a person like her, and a part of me would always try to satisfy her expectations, to make her happy. My only wish (okay, two) for her is that our juniors would be able to treat her with a lot of tolerance and fighting spirit, and that she would be happy.
My class’ spirit to perfect everything before she enters the class was amazing. We cleaned the boards, moved all the tables away from the wall, tidied our desks, cleaned up the teacher’s desk, opened the windows, closed the “curtains”, cleaned the blackboard, prepared the projector, turned off the lights, stayed quiet.
That, for me, was the first thing that brought us together.
Of course, there was Ancol, TAMIDO’s dinner, smurf, The Golden Egg, and barbecue to follow. I would never forget the day I was torn, but none of my classmates treated me differently nor did they question me. I felt like I was accepted for who I am, torn or not.
We just had a barbecue session with a majority of the classmates, where we shared meat, sausages, marshmallows, french fries, banana split, photos, stories, and commentaries. Today is the last night I’ll call myself as an X-2 student, but I am damn proud of it.
An experience that guided me along this academic year was the notable number of activities I joined. Along with a few other people, I became the first generation of our school’s debate team, successfully walking out of six competitions without a single prize at hand. It was only on our seventh did we come back with countless medals and the word “proud” plastered on our foreheads.
We are currently preparing for our next competition, and when I went to meet up with my fellow debaters this afternoon, I felt one again with them. This was the first time we practiced as winners, and winners we will be.
Honestly, I really thought that all the class-skipping would bring my grades down. There was a four-week period where I had four competitions back-to-back and was allowed to leave class whenever deemed necessary. The results I received last Saturday was very surprising, because although I know my grades weren’t in the danger zone to not make it to the science stream, I had no idea that my grades would actually go up. I was also informed that my English score is once again the highest amongst the whole cohort, but when have you seen people make a big deal out of that? On scientific subjects, maybe, but English gets overlooked a lot, you know?
On a side note, the future has also been haunting me a lot. I didn’t know what I was interested in, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I didn’t know where I was headed. It wasn’t until last week did I find a realistic suggestion that could accommodate all my interests, all my potential, and all my future visions into one. It involved a lot of talking, a lot of thinking, and a lot of feelings. It surprised me, really, how easy the suggestion seemed, coming from a person in that field of expertise. But maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be: simple. I just needed to borrow someone else’s glasses to see myself.
Long story short, this was how my year turned out. It has been a bumpy ride, but it was an adventurous and unforgettable journey.
I ended the year with a lot:
Well, to start things off, I’m still single. (And happy, thank you very much).
I failed another two scholarship applications.
I learned to let loose and allow myself to get close to people.
I’m going to Bangkok.
I have a goal.
I have a plan.
Blueaholic is listening to: f(x) – Electric Shock