where your education closes doors, when it should be opening them

I have heard, time and time and time again, how the 'education system is screwed up'. Many times. I've watched the Sir Ken Robinson video, I've discussed it with friends, and the book I'm reading now - 'Linchpin' - skims over it too. And I've always kind of agreed - I remember ranting a bit about it when I did an issues thing in year 9 about the nation curriculum. But there are times when you can talk about something a lot without it really hitting you. Like advocating for the death penalty, until you know someone  personally who's being put on death row. And then it's personal.

Well, this just got personal.

So right now, my sort of excuse for a job is tutoring. I have three students. One is a girl in year 12, for English - let's call her Vera. I have another kid in year 8, who's a family friend, and I'm prepping her to take an exam for a selective entry school (*growl*). She will be henceforth known as Zena. And lastly, I just got a new year 12 student for History, but we won't worry too much about her. Mostly, this is about Vera and Zena.

Selective entry schools. I hate them. With a passion. I know hate is a strong word, but for the amount of unnecessary pressure they cause, I think they can take my hate. I had to try out when I was in year 8. They have a policy where they don't take more than 12 kids from any school, and my school met that limit, so I didn't get in. I know I would have gotten in otherwise, because they sent me a letter explaining this, and they said that if I really wanted, I could apply through another way. But I sabotaged this application, because I had decided that I was not going there, that I could do well in my below-average public school, and  I would prove it. The arguments I had with my mother, the tears - bad memories, man. But I proved it, didn't I?

Yet it came back to haunt me with little Zena. Zena... When she started tutoring with me, she was really quiet and reserved. She's still pretty impassive, but I think it's her natural state. Our relationship has evolved, in the sense that she talks to me more, and she's even brought in her school homework, which makes me giddy because it means she actually thinks that I help her...

Anyway. Selective entry schools. Firstly, they don't do anything. I have friends who have gone to these schools, who have told me that these schools don't do much for them. Really, there's a higher level of competition, but in the end, the school doesn't have to do much because they already handpicked the smartest kids around, so it's sort of guaranteed that they're going to do well. And more often than not, these kids already attend jizbillions of tuition classes, so it's not like they have to put in a lot of effort. So these nerdy kids go into this high pressure environment with a million extra classes on the side, and they get good results because really, they've had it written for them their whole lives, and when it's all said and done, the school looks great because all their kids did well, and they take credit for it, but they didn't actually do much for the kids because those kids were already going to do well anyway.

And then you have All Other Normal Schools that take in all students and cater to all needs, and people think they're not so great because there isn't a 90+ average in VCE, but in fact, these school are just doing their job by accepting everyone and giving them all an opportunity. Selective entry schools are missing the point of schooling in general - it's not about pumping out the highest achievers, it's about giving everyone the foundation of a good education to pave whatever path they want in life. If it's something academic, that's great. If it's not, well, that's just as great.

No matter what people say about my school, and God knows what they say now considering the shooting of Numan last year, the arrest of two more this year, plus the death of one who went overseas to apparently fight for ISIS - all boys I knew personally, two I went to primary school with... this is a whole other crisis... BUT. No matter what they say, I think my school is a good one. I think we are limited in resources, and the students have difficulty seeing it, but the teachers really try to help you get wherever you want to go. They try to help you achieve your personal best. They help you when it comes to academics, they help you get into TAFE, they help you join police academy or whatever. They do it without judgement. And I appreciate that.

Anyway. Selective entry schools are stupid, they serve no worthy purpose, and I hate them. Let me talk about the kind of pressure this puts on kids.

On the weekend, Zena went to one of the specialised tuition centres that train kids specifically for selective entry schools, to sit a practise exam. She brought the exams and results to her next class with me so we could go over them. She was disheartened by her results.

So I know from experience that these exams are pretty harsh. I had to attend tuition a month or so before doing the exam myself, and at first, I was absolutely distraught because I did terribly on each practise test - like, barely scraping 50% at times. And then I learnt that this was pretty average in the class, if, at times, above average. And then I was mortified.

But taking a look at the practise tests now - I was downright horrified. Disgusted. Let's talk about her reading comprehension test. It runs for 30min, with no extra reading time. There are 50 questions. Did you see that? 50. That's already less than one minute per question. But now keep in mind that it's reading comprehension. Now tell, where the Hell is she supposed to find time to read the damn passages before she tackles the questions?

It's basically designed to fail kids. It's impossible to excel. It's just...

It... It...  makes them feel stupid because they don't realise it's impossible.

Can you see how cruel that is?

I mean, it's not even just this tuition thing. Think about VCE. You can't get a perfect ATAR, only close. And that system is all about ranking. I mean, let's say a vast majority of one cohort worked super hard in preparation for an exam, and they all got 90%. Well, that just gets standardised so that when they get their results, it gets scaled down because it becomes average. How is that fair? Why must we take down a generation because so many are smart? Why can't we embrace their effort?

Even university. A few weeks back, I was in a tutorial, and everyone was expressing their frustration over the recent results that had come out. I was feeling quite good because I did well (it's my blog, let me brag ^_^ ), but then I listened to the tutor talk to the others, and ... ugh. Basically, she said that if everyone did well on their exams and whatnot, the higher ups would tell them that their assessment wasn't 'sensitive enough'. So in fact, no one should feel bad about getting an average mark, or a credit, because, well, average isn't bad. And I'm not saying average is bad. It's just that the way this tutor spoke, she was basically saying that they design tests with the expectation that most people won't do particularly well, and we should be satisfied with that. It's that... attitude. That attitude that you can't ever shine, so don't bother.

And sometimes they don't even seem to care about their subjects. In one unit, last year, the staff in our tutorials said at the start that they didn't expect people to show up to lectures or the tutorials, which weren't compulsory. For our assessments, they said that we wouldn't need to put in too much effort - they even told us that we could keep all our notes open when we do the quizzes. I've had similar experiences this year too. Now, how do you expect anyone to be motivated if you can't even fake enthusiasm for your own subject? If you, who teach it, don't value it, why should we?

Do you see what I'm saying, or am I just in an irrational rage about everything?

So let's get back to Vera. For English, you have three main types of written pieces that you do - a text response, a language analysis, and a context piece. A context piece is really a written piece of your own choice, which responds to a prompt about a theme that you've studied for the year - the main ones being Identity & Belonging, Encountering Conflict, and Whose Reality? I don't know if there's another one... But basically, you study them with a few texts, and it's got a lot of philosophical aspects to it.

So my kid is doing Identity & Belonging, which is what I studied. I coached her into writing a creative piece, a sort of made up reflection. Her writing has really improved since I started tutoring her, not because of me in particular... I think it's just that the school she goes to isn't so well off, according to her, and because her peers aren't too bright, the teachers are focused on bringing them up to speed, and they don't challenge them that much. But I've been challenging her, and she's basically risen to the challenge. She has deep ideas. She expresses them well, because I've helped her to expand her vocabulary, and so now she has more words to say what she wants to say. I'm so proud :')

So she does her SAC for context, and she gets her result. It's a B+. It's not bad, all things considered, but we had hoped for more. But then she showed me the feedback. There's literally ticks everywhere, there's positive commentary on the clarity and depth of her ideas... So where'd she lose a whole grade? On the marking rubric, the only 'negative' or 'critical' thing this teacher had to say was that she was too 'wordy'. Well, I didn't know what she meant by that in relation to the piece, because it looked reasonable to me. I know what loquacious looks like. I've tutored kids, and seen peers writing, and believe me, I know loquacious. As for word limits, technically there aren't any for any of the essays you're supposed to do. It's your own judgement call - in the end, they're going to look at your response, the quality of them, and how well you express them. If you can do this in less words, good for you, and if you can do them in more, that's fine. As long as you finish on time. So she can't have taken off a whole grade for it being too 'long', because there's no such thing as too long - if you wrote it within the time limit, well, that's that. Does that make sense?

So I got Vera to ask her teacher what she meant by that. Her teacher basically said that for example, where one person might say 'let's have lunch', Vera's approach was a bit 'when the sun is at its peak on the third day of the week, let us convene under the ancient oak at the park in the corner of the city for a simple meal, yadda yadda yadda'. What is that? That is loquacious.

I understand that. Except this piece wasn't like that. It was a creative piece, for God's sake, so it had description in it. But it wasn't irrelevant or frivolous. It had a point. It was art, and it suited the mood of her piece. Besides - even if you were to write this as an expository, I would think that you would still have to be quite descriptive if you want to break down your ideas for this kind of topic. Identity and Belonging has the potential to be really deep, so you really can't just leave it at 'let's have lunch'. You need to explore it. Heck, that's the whole context title - exploring issues of identity and belonging.

I mean, this goes back to the whole 'schools kill creativity' thing, right?  I don't think all schools do that. Just some schools,  and in particular, some idiotic teachers. When I was in year 12, yes, my teacher was wary of letting kids do creative for context, because he understood that it could be difficult to come up with something brilliant and original on the spot. But he humored whoever wanted to try it, including myself, and let me say it again - I did  well. What's important is that he let us make our own choices, because to him, it wasn't about doing it a certain way to get a certain grade; it was about achieving your own personal best, something you could be proud of. And he was happy if you were.

So I guess this rant touches on many little things to do with schooling and education, a bit here and a bit there. Let me sum it up for you:

1. Don't waste your time with selective entry schools. They suck. 

2. There are some institutions, some schools, some teachers, that just - for whatever reason - drag you down. Sometimes they do it because it's a system they're used to, sometimes it's because they think they're doing what's best for you. Sometimes they don't know what they're talking about. But they suck too.

3. Don't let people make you feel stupid. Wherever you go, whatever you do, put in a 100%, and you may reap the rewards, or you may not. The point is, you need to feel like it's your best, because you can't rely on these systems or people to appreciate you. You need to appreciate yourself. Own your genius, whatever kind it may be. 

Erm... take feedback too. I don't mean that people should always hug you and tell you you're awesome just because you did the work. Sometimes you are wrong, sometimes your ideas have a flaw or two. That's okay. Take it and improve. But don't let people limit you. Don't ever let them hold you back.

Man, it feels good getting that off my chest.

Peace in,
Laila

One Little Number

At 11:52pm, my mother was braiding my hair.

"Are you going to check?" she asked.

"No," I replied flatly.

"But there's only 8 minutes," she said.

"But you're here," I countered. "I need you to be out of the house. I'll check when you go to work tomorrow."

She honestly doesn't get it, and it sort of amuses me, that she can't seem to comprehend the pressure she puts on me, explicitly and implicitly. But then I can feel her smile evilly, really, just the vibes shifting.

"Well, I don't think I'm going to work tomorrow," she says nonchalantly. "You know... I think I'll do some cleaning, and I have some shopping to do."

And I can't help but think how eeeevil she is, my mother. I sleep after midnight, but I absolutely cannot make myself check. Although I'm not usually a dream/nightmare person, I have vague recollections of a kind of dream or nightmare, numbers of a possibly ATAR or study score spinning around, not making any sense.

In the morning, my mother's in my room.

"Are you going to check?" she asks, her voice sing-songy.

I pretend I'm still asleep, moaning and pulling my sheet over my head. When she's gone, I take my phone off my charger, turn on the WiFi and hide under my quilt. My friends' group on Viber, AWESOME, is alive and kicking. Hundreds of messages pile up and keep going, and I try to go back, get updated, but it's impossible. The only thing I get is that everyone seems to be alive.

Of course they note that I'm online, and then they're asking me. Are you alive?

I can't check. Up until now, the waiting period was torture, like being on death row, waiting for the execution date. But right now, the waiting is a mild comfort, because as long as I don't know, there's this possibility that I may still do well. Whatever happens after, of course, cannot be changed, and that's even scarier than not knowing.

When they realise I can't contribute to the group, Star messages me personally. Pep talks me into it, mingling motivational and demanding. It's weird - I have never been this nervous in my life. My eyes literally tear up, my stomach feels like it's holding stones, my throat hurts, and my hands are sweaty. It's gross, but as my fingers tap against the screen of my phone, they leave little pixelated rainbows.

But she tells me that she's alive and kicking, which is what she said last year when we got our Literature/Methods results, and it's enough. I log in. I check. I die.

98.70

It's jizbillions more than I expected. Okay, not jizbillions. I was arrogant enough to think I'd do better than my sister, though not by much. But this is a lot. This is huge. I can't even speak.

I crawl out of bed and traipse to the kitchen and show my mother. Her eyes scan the screen, they widen, light up, and she screams a little. Envelopes me in a huge hug.

And it's too much for me, so I go back to bed and crawl under the sheets. Inform the rest of my friends that I'm alive. Start checking up on my comrades. Outside my room, the house is abuzz. My cousins shouting their congratulations, then hushing 'cause they think I'm asleep. My dad coming in to see my room. The calls start coming in, because that's what it's like, being a part of the Curry community. They start going out too - we have a whole family to inform. It's insane.

The best part is that 90% of my friends so far are alive. And well. And happy. And I'm so proud of us, I really am. My school in particular - we're usually considered a part of the ghetto, you know, with the leftovers, the rejects, the thugs. And I know 7 of us so far have 90+ results. Star got 99.35. We killed it.

An annoying side note: the Herald Sun newspaper published an article on the high achievers. They mention a whole bunch of schools, taking the time to mention Dandy High's highest result was 96.1. They did not mention our school, when, excuse me, we did a lot better. Let me repeat: STAR GOT 99.35.

The same day, Monash uni calls up and informs me that I've won a scholarship. That very day, they're having a ceremony for high achievers. That very day. I don't even know what to do anymore. It's all above me.

So there you have it. I'msohappylikeyouwouldn'tbelieve. I could cry. I could cry because my peers killed it, because we put in the effort and we got the rewards and no one can say that our school is crap. I could cry because I showed my mother that I don't need to go to a posh private or select entry school to get a good result, nor do I need to have a million tuitions, or do all the sciency mathsy subjects. I could cry because I haven't let anyone down - not my parents, not my teachers, not my friends, not me. I could cry because everyone's so happy. I could cry out of gratitude, thank God, literally. I could cry just out of relief.

The funny thing is how little all this will mean in a couple of months. We'll all start university, and we'll realise how insignificant the ATAR - this number - is. We may even forget what we got, like my sister did. I used to think it was unfathomable. Now I'm not so sure.

But until then I'm going to enjoy it :)

Peace in,
Laila

Adieu, High School

So that's it. Today marks the day that high school is officially over for me. I mean, it 'formally' closed on the 21st of October, but I still associate exams with school, and so I've still felt as if I was in school during this period.

And today, I had my last exam.

That's it.

It's done.

...

A part of me is just so THRILLED. Liberated.  No more SACs, no more exams with the same kind of weight of expectation, no more bad teachers (this is specific to those bad teachers, because I have had great ones too). No more 5 days of school, 8:30am to 3pm. No more waiting for it to just be over.

And thinking of all that makes me want to do a little happy dance, it does.

Then the other annoying, self-righteous, angsty, officious part of me pipes up, with a 'is that it? That's all?'

And all that's left is this huge blank space of all the things to come and all the things that will never happen again. It's just so... surreal.




Anyhow, I'm now going to embark on the task of trying to catch up on all your posts (I've been terrified of looking at my dashboard until now), and it's going to take me ages because I'm actually without a laptop right now.... my charger broke :/ Sort of convenient for the exam period, but now it's just going to slow things down. So be patient with me ^_^

And I do, in fact, have many things to blog about, as many things have happened from eons ago that I just haven't had the time to jot down. So many, many things, good, bad and ugly, and you know, because there are so many, I probably won't blog about any of it.

Cheers.

Peace in,
Laila

Where I respond to an Anon

C'est ma vacance. Or the NIPS: Non-Instructional Period of Study.

I felt like I ought to write something while I can, but I didn't know what, exactly. It's the halfway point of the year. I was thinking of maybe summing up the highlights/happenings of the year so far:

1. Well, there was the formal.

2. Before that, I got my senior jumper, you know, the one where you put on a nickname? I really really wanted to have my surname on it, like a soccer player or something, but then, that's what my sister did when she was in year 12, and she kept alternating between: 'D'aw, look at you, trying to be like me' and 'Don't copy me, stupid'. Both of them hurt my ego. Why do we have to have the same surname? WHY? (That was rhetorical.) So yeah, I ended up with 'Nemo', which is what my little sister used to call me when she was still learning to talk. Hm.

3. My grades. My grades. I've had 100%s all year in English and Legal. In History, I've had A+s, one a perfect score, one off by one mark. In French.... hahaha. Haha. French. Well, I haven't failed it. It's been a mix of Bs and As. Haha. French.

4. Oh, two weeks ago, I went with three of my friends to Melbourne's Amnesty International/Welcome to Australia 'Walk Together' event, in support of refugees and asylum seekers. It was fun. I felt proactive. Some guy came up and said he was a journalist and asked for a photo. We were all like, yokay, sure thing dude. We did not ask what paper, we did not ask for a name. Only later it occurred to us that he could have been a creeper. I like to think not. Eh. C'est la vie.

5. On Saturday, I went to Monkey Pina's house. We made pizzas, like, with the outside oven and everything. 'Twas fun. And for some bizarre reason, she had this Gossip Girl card game-y thing, so we decided to play it. Um. Lesson of the Day: We're not Gossip Girls. Well, it was funny, anyhow x)

6. Huh, did I mention I turned 18? In May, of course. Fun, fun, fun.

7. My sister and I are not completely made up yet, but we're sort've talking. I gave her one of my Ferrero Rochers. 

8. MY COUSINS' BABIES ARE DUE THIS MONTH. SQUEE.

Okay, now I'm going to get to the part where I respond to l'Anon's request....

"...can you make a post about your aims for year 12 in terms of your atar, blah blah, and also about the top 5 things you want to do in the future, accompanied by the top 5 uni courses and uni as well?"

Ohwait, hold up guys. I'm going to do something uber creepy and maybe disturbing, but um, bear with me.

OhmyGod. OhmyGod. I just did the most awkward thing. OhmyGod.

I just... I just...

OhmyGod.

I... just watched a video on birth. I mean, not on birth, but of birth. A woman giving birth. OhmyGod.

*inhales, exhales*

Okay, to answer one of your questions, dear Anon, the uni course I planned to take was Midwifery. I wanted to do it at Monash. But, despite my many fluffy reasons behind why I want to be a midwife, recently it occurred to me that - well, to put it frankly - birth is not a fluffy thing. It can be bloody, from what I've heard, excruciating, and, well, pretty darn ugly. And I thought to myself, can I handle this?

In order to figure out how I would know, I asked a family friend who's taking the course. She told me the key to this answer is in Youtube. 'Type in birth videos'. I'd been meaning to do it, but I either forgot, or procrastinated, because, really, giving birth - actual birth, not a movie thing - seems like such a personal thing. Furby told me that if they're putting it on Youtube, clearly they don't mind people seeing. But honestly, it just feels invasive. And, of course, I was scared. I was scared that I couldn't handle it, and where would that leave me? I have, really, no other career path in mind, besides writing, but that's not something I can depend on, and I don't even know if I want to make it a career.

But I just did it, people. Right now. I watched a video. Just the one, for now, but apparently I have to watch multiple ones. However, the fact of the matter is, I watched it, and I didn't puke. So there. Midwifery (at Monash, hopefully) is still on. If not Monash, then Deakin. If not there, well, I donno.

Okay, so let me back track. Aims of year 12. My ATAR. For those of you who don't know, it's the Big Final Score, or, technically, ranking. I may or may not have mentioned it before, but generally speaking, 80+ is pretty darn excellent, 60 to 70 is a bit average, and below that... well, on the Asian scale, it's pretty bad. Though, I guess, on the Asian scale, anything below 80 is bad.

My aim? I want a 90+.  The highest possible score you can ever get is 99.95, which is obviously what my mother expects of me (NOT. She expects 99.99. She doesn't believe me when I say that rank does not exist), but I don't think so. But a 90+ in general? Yes please.  If you want me to get specific in terms of scores for my individual grades, well. I finished Methods last year and got a 30 (scales up to 36). I finished Literature last year and got a 41 (scales up to 42). For English and Legal, I'm aiming for above 40 as well, as high as possible. For History, I'm not entirely sure, but I can settle for 35+. For French, I really want a 30+ as well, but I donno. I can't quite grasp how good I am at it, and what my competition is like. So yeah :/

My other goals for year 12 include: make friends. Okay, not like that. More like, ensure that the friendships I have are strong enough to survive post-high school. I love my friends dearly, and I'm also co-dependant, and I donno how I'm going to survive the real world, and I NEED THESE PEOPLE. AND I LOVE THEM AND CAN'T SEE MY LIFE AHEAD WITHOUT THEM. Also, this may sound odd, but I'd like to 'take back' my Muslim friends. Sad fact (for me): I don't have any close Muslim school friends. Mainly because my original class in high school had no Muslims, and the ones from primary school kind of slipped away. But as much as I love my non-Muslim friends, there are things about me that they just wouldn't understand, and I have a feeling the differences are going to become more apparent when we're out of high school. It's not that I think they'll stop being my friends, but I feel like I need people that I can relate to more, who'll understand aspects of my life more. So I'm working on getting my old Muslim friends back. It's not hard, 'cause we're all still on good terms. Just not... close terms. Hm.

Finally, I want to do something Big as an Art Vice-Captain for the school. I was given a responsibility, I want to make sure it's fulfilled in the best way possible. I don't want to be the one that leaves everyone with the complaint of 'they never do anything, those captains'. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to do yet, but I'm working on it.

So that's high school :)

Okay, onwards, life goals and blah blah. Erm. Well, truthfully, I don't really have any specific goals for the future. I'm afraid of expectations. I hate it when you plan something or want something and expect it to happen and then it doesn't... it's just.... slap. Ouch. Burn.

I don't have a 'top five uni courses' list, for that matter, either. As I mentioned, I only have Midwifery, because it's the only career path I want. If it was just to study for the fun of it, I'd probably go down the artsy path, Literature maybe, or Criminology. But it's not career stuff, you know? Just learning for the sake of learning. 

For life in general... well. Ehm. There are sort-of plans I like to entertain in my mind, but nothing really solid, you know? Some depend on chance, others depend on the money I have. Like, I always thought that as soon as I finished high school, I could go back to Sri Lanka and spend time there. Heck, maybe even to Dubai, and stay with my cousin for a while. I also wanted to go to the FIFA World Cup next year, in Brazil, but I mean, pshhh. Yeah right. Those dreams were in the time when the Financial Crisis was still open to the possibility of getting our money back in the immediate future. That's no longer the case. So I don't think travelling is in the immediate future...

... although... *blushes* I also liked the idea of getting married soonish too, and I have my reasons for this that I don't feel like explaining now but if you really want to know I might find it in me to explain that in another post ANYWAY, the point is, in theory, I could get married soon, and *blushes* for the honeymoon, I'd love to go on Hajj. Ohwow. What a dream. But, erm, I haven't the slightest idea how I'm supposed to get myself a guy, and as much as I understand semi-arranged marriages, I don't think it'll work for me. I feel like I was brought up too differently to be able to adjust to that, but again, I'm too awkward (and not very attractive) to land myself a guy, so marriage in the immediate future? Not likely.

AND I WANT TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP. How much fun would that be? Just me and my friends, in a jeep, backpacking around Australia, sleeping under the stars or in tents or in caravan parks, living simply, minimum money and technology, maximum adventure. Donno if that would ever happen, but gosh, it would be awesome, would it not?

Okay, lemme just get down to it and be realistic. Um, these are not grand goals or anything, but here is the List of 5 Plausible Things I'm Going to Try and Do When School is Over:

1. Start a book club. With my friends. Wouldn't that be fun? But everyone's all like we'reinVCEnotimetodoit now. But afterwards: no excuses.

2. Get a proper, steady job as a tutor. Not the sort of casual thing I'm doing now. Make money to make some of the dreamy stuff come true, or at least, ease the burden of the Financial Crisis.

3. Work on my stories. The novel ones. Not because I want it published or anything, just because I want to.

4. Oh, volunteer/join the St John's Ambulance thing? I forgot what it's called, exactly, but I want to get trained in all that emergency first aid stuff.

5. Attend more Islamic classes. I attend one, now, but I think I need more.  

Hey, bonus one: 6. Learn how to make fancy pretty cakes, like my sister. I love cake ♥

Okay. That's it. Questions answered. For the record, Anon, you didn't word anything badly, nor are you really creepy, I'm just paranoid. It feels weird to have someone who's been there from the start that I haven't known about o.O 

Anyhow, also, you guys, if you have any other suggestions as to what I should write about, feel free to say so. I can't say for sure I'll answer immediately in the future, but I'll keep it in mind ^_^ Cheers. 

Peace in,
Laila

The Good News

Ohkay, I was supposed to do this yesterday, but I was unexpectedly detained at my aunty's house after tuition....and I came home at 9pm, and after a day of helping them move into their new house, I was sort of exhausted. But today, people. Today. 

Today I tell you about the FORMAL!!!

Firstly, I'll confess that there won't be many photos. I realised it kind of reminds me of my time in Sri Lanka, like, those memories are so precious I can't bring myself to share them. Only, I'm still going to write about it. And I mean, it just feels weird. I haven't shown photos of moi before, and I just can't bring myself to do it now. Also, I don't think photos captured the 'spirit' of the night, and... I have an embarrassing confession. Well, it's more of an embarrassing realisation, because I didn't actually know I was doing it.

Well, basically... I pout.

Okay, not like this. A little more subtle.

='_'= I didn't/don't mean it! I realised this retrospectively. For the whole night, I actually thought I'd mastered some semblance of a normal smile, but only recently, going through all the photos, I realised it was not a normal smile at all. It was a POUT. EW. I FEEL LIKE SUCH A TEENAGER. But in my defense, I think it's kind of... genetic. 'Cause as I was looking at the photos, I realised this sort've-smile looked kind of familiar... and when I checked some photos of Sri Lanka.... turns out I have a second cousin who does the same thing. So there.

Okay, this post is not about pouts and photos, it's about THE FORMAL.

So for those who don't know, I guess the way to explain what the formal is is to say it's... basically like the Australian version of the prom/grad? It's a dance, on your final year of high school, with the girls in pretty dresses and the guys in their tuxes, and there's a limo (or in our case, a party bus), fancy food, photoshoots and funny awards (like 'Most Likely To End Up In Prison'). It's sort of a celebration of the final year, a glamorous night to dress up and be merry.

And mine just went perfectly. Really. If I was talking about it, like actually talking, I'd be gushing. I don't think I ever gush. And I'd probably be starry eyed, and maybe even a little giggly.

... okay, not giggly. Don't think I can do giggly.

So it was last Friday, and we 'unofficially' got the day off. I mean, they say it's still a school day, but it's more of a joke because clearly it's going to take a whole day for a girl to get ready, and clearly no guys are going to be coming if the other half of the year level isn't. I didn't understand why it took a whole day to get ready, until I heard the appointments everyone had, from 9 in the morning... hair, nails, tans, eyebrows, makeup... blah blah blah. I can tell you now I was spared most of that, thank God.

(Fun note: my friend Jasmine actually asked me how I was doing my hair... I was like, well. Well. I think I'm going to get streaks in, I'll probably straighten it, but maybe I'll curl it instead, and then I'll pull it in some fancy bun... and then I'll undo that all and put on my headscarf.)

So I spent the day cleaning the house, and around 2pm, Creepy Z came along. Makeup lady.

I hate makeup, I really do. My sister had specified that there was no way I was getting out of it, and my mother was backing her, and I kind of knew there was no way I could get out of it, so I resigned myself to letting her paint my face. I'll admit though, that a) it kinda feels nice when makeup is getting put on you... all tickly and stuff. When it's actually on, not so much. And b), Creepy Z is amazing, and although I didn't dare look in the mirror the whole time, I trusted she would do a wonderful job, and from what others said, it was.

(Fun note: did I mention all the appointments? Yes, every girl had a makeup appointment with some specialist or expert or whatnot. Mine was done by a girl one year level below me... no one noticed the difference. Hahaha.)

So anyhow, because my face has almost never been touched by makeup, Creepy Z had to experiment a few times, and during that time, 'Furby' came along. The 'hijab stylist', or my sister's friend. She I love the most, because she totally had my back with the simplicity thing. You see, my dress was this.... 

It was unbelievably hard getting a picture of the whole thing; it's so long...

Behold, my very first 'selfie'. Now, see how long it is?

And my sister wanted gold, gold, gold. I may not be a fashionista, but I really couldn't see how gold worked. So anyway, my sister was shoving a gold bracelet over to start with, and then Furby was like: 'Oh, come on, her dress is all like Game of Thrones, and this bracelet is all Kuch Kuch Hota Hai... no. Just no.'

(Btw, I actually love KKHH... just saying :P )

So anyway, I was spared the gold - I had to wear some rings (that were thin, and they got put together to be look like one) and that was okay, and I wore a black bracelet too, which was also okay... and that was it. The hijab that Furby did was ahmazing, but um, I absolutely cannot find a picture of it - as in, on anyone else. I'm not really familiar with 'hijab styles' anyway, I kinda just usually wear mine the one way, so yeah... but it was pretty, like, black, but then she tied this similar dark reddish one around and made a flower out of it and and and, you guys...

I FELT LIKE A PRINCESS.

There, I said it ='_'=

But I can't help it. For once, just for once, I felt pretty perfect. Not exceptional... just, you know, nice.. so in my element...

... until I wore those heels. See, people, there's a reason why they tell you to practise wearing heels weeks earlier. Wearing them for the first time five minutes before you leave is a dreadful ordeal. DUDE, THEY WERE SO HIGH, I COULDN'T SEE THE GROUND. Okay, I'm kidding, but they were just awful, I was swaying and stumbling, and I still do not get the point of heels. Unfortunately, I had no time to get out of it, because I had to go pick up Star...

... and she looked like a modern day Cinderella. She was sort of offended, but really. Her dress was the same blue as Cindy, and her hair was pinned up (but not defying gravity, just... pinned up) and she had this shawl around her and she looked so lady like and everything!

Anyway, we headed to the Captain's house, where our group was meeting up, and I was just awestruck by how lovely everybody looked. I mean, I'd seen photos from the deb last year, and when the girls put on makeup... they looked awful. But this year, they all had it right - not too caked, and you could still recognise them. And the boys, the boys - a group of them had arranged their ties to be colour-coordinated, so that they made a rainbow, and it was so cute ♥

Then came that terrifying walk to the party bus, and I had to hitch up my dress and hang onto anything I could find for dear life, and I made it. I can't say I liked the bus bit much. In my head, no matter how many times everyone stressed it was a party bus, I could only picture it like a normal bus. But a party bus means the seats are along the sides, facing each other, and it's sort of squashy, and I felt uncomfortable with the boys, but what to do? There was a little TV playing all these old songs that I listened to as a child, but in that oblivion when all those dirty words never meant anything... and at that moment they did, unfortunately, and I was sort of mortified. Also, there were no windows. What is that?! Way to induce claustrophobia.

But we got there in one piece (the Cookie Monster from one of my old posts got sick, poor guy :P ), and people were milling at the elevators, waiting to go up, and there was lots of gushing. Then we got up there, and we had to go through security. Um, yeah, last year's group were apparently very Bad. 

Oh, SUPER PROUD MOMENT: Our year level is the only one in years who didn't have a single drunk. Yes! No one. See, every year, some idiot thinks it's funny to ge stoned and show up. They get sent home. I don't get the point of it; I mean, a) you miss out on the party, b) you're not even going to remember it. What a waste. But we didn't have a single one of those x)

So we get there, and it wasn't opened yet, so everyone was cramped into this foyer, and some people were getting their professional shots done, but the line was really long, plus we didn't want everyone watching, so our gang decided to save those photos for later. Then more of our friends caught sight of us, and there was a lot of screaming...

(Fun note: I'm pretty much the only one in high school who refuses to do 'casual dress days'. I'm just so lazy, and if it's for charity, I'd rather just give the money then get that kind of thing in return. So when people see me in 'normal' clothes, i.e. not school uniform, I tend to send them into shock. Sometimes there are spasms involved. I'm pretty sure people just assume I go home after school, plug myself in, shut down and recharge throughout the night for the next day...hm.)

And everyone was just like ZOMGSQUEE, YOULOOKSOPRETTY, ILOVEYOURDRESS, ILOVEYOURHAIR, ILOVEYOURMAKEUP, ILOVEYOURSHOESEVENTHOUGHICAN'TSEETHEMUNDERYOURDRESS, SQUEE, SQUEE, SQUEE, SELFIEEEE!

Yes, we were like this for pretty much the whole night.

I think that was the best part of the whole night: that atmosphere. I really think every girl felt like a princess (they all looked like it, that's for sure), and everyone was just so happy and fluffy and totally on Cloud 9...Compliments were flying, everyone wanted to talk to everyone, everyone was hugging, everyone was gushing, and it was just awkward pouts smiles all round.

So we get past that stage, into the actual venue, and the photographer wanted to take a group photo with everyone... which was near impossible, but we managed with people sitting, squatting, half squatting, three-quarter squatting, standing, and standing taller... you get the picture. Then we dispersed, to our seats.

We got our entrée - this cheesy pasta thing. Obviously it had some fancy name that I don't know about, but it tasted delish. The captains got up to do the awards, but there was this moment they called the Captain and I up, to thank us for helping (we made the sashes and the placecards), and at that moment, I had kicked off the killer heels under my table, so I had to scramble to get them on, and then stumble across the dance floor to the stage with everyone watching. Yeah. Mortifying. But I got a box of chocolates for my efforts.

The awards were announced, and then we went back to our seats. The DJ started playing some music, and this girl took a teacher to the dance floor and a few people joined, and it slowly turned to 'mingle time'...

Lotsandlotsofmingling.

Then it was dinner, and there was a choice of fancy chicken or lamb with fancy vegetables. Delish.

Then the party really started, and everyone was getting on the dancefloor. I am not a dancing person, certainly not in public...

(Fun note: the last time I was at a party that involved dancing, I spent the night hiding under a table, and a chair...)

... but I learnt the key was to remember everyone looks just as stupid as you, and as long as you don't think about it, you'll be okay. Oh, and it helps to have enthusiastic friends. Us girls made a group and I was bopping along while they pulled off these stupid moves, and we admired my friend Chamsi (who we'd forced this guy to bring along) who knew the words to every single song, like, every single song. From this century and the last. And every now and then, I'd shout above the hubbub to ask her what she'd just said to some song, and she'd pat me on the head and be like: 'Don't you worry.'

Lotsmoremingling. 

Our legal teacher had told us, the day before, that the key to a 'good formal' is when everyone is enthusiastic and chatty, and not taking photos the entire time. You have to mingle. So we mingled. Then they did the award 'Beauty and the Beast', which was decided by the teachers - oh, I forgot to mention, the theme was Hollywood. Nobody really takes it too seriously, but it manifests itself subtly in different ways, like the funny awards. So 'Beauty and the Beast' was a replacement for the King and Queen, and CAPTAIN GOT BEAUTY! I'm so proud of her, but also, duh. She deserved it; she looked so classy ^_^ And the guy who got Beast - no one saw that coming, but when he got it everyone thought duh as well.

Anyway, we got around to taking our professional shots. I really didn't want single ones, but the photographer lady was so forecfully enthusiastic, so I had to, and then Toothpick was standing behind her making faces, and the poor lady couldn't understand why I was glaring at her... and then I really did intentionally glare at her 'cause she wanted me to smile with my teeth and I absolutely cannot do that. So there was that. Then we had our girl group photo, and then we had our little 'original accelerated class' photo - like, people from my year 9 class. We managed to get some of the others, who had moved schools, to come along as well, and it was just so cute to be together again :)

And the whole night just flew by, it did. Little snippets are just stuck in my head. Like when the boys who were dancing in the middle of the dance floor picked up Raman and made him crowd surf - over such a small group,  you can't really, but it was cute. They did it to some other guy too. Oh, my super amazing English teacher, who had sworn he wouldn't hit the floor - well, he showed off some his moves later in the night too. All of us girls trying to take one group photo. Oh, this guy who'd worn a top hat and monocle. Dessert: crepes with raspberry syrup and ice cream. Teetering but never falling over in those heels. Toothpick attempting to insult me by saying that I completely ruined the ladylike effect by holding onto the wall when walking, but me grinning because that meant he thought I looked ladylike to start with.

Seriously, one of the best nights of my life. I had no inhibitions, I felt great, and you could just tell everyone else did too, and it really feels like a fairytale. I'm so going to miss everyone *sniff*

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home...♥

Peace in, 

Laila

Secret Lives

Some time last term, Star turned to me during lunchtime and said, maybe with a little surprise: 'You have friends.'

This is very nice to know. It might seem like such a weird thing to say, because usually you don't really expect your friend to say something like that, but it has its importance. I remember mentioning, a post or two or three ago, that I don't have too many close friends because I keep people at bay.

But Star's comment came with the realisation that while not many people know about the workings of my head or my 'personal' life, people still talk to me. Or they have been this year, more than before. And when they make their confessions and unburden their woes, I realise that I seem to have uncovered a whole new underbelly in my high school. Sort of.

Now, with what I might tell you now, you might go 'awww', because it's a serious case of delusional naivety. You see, I know what teenagers theoretically get up to. The parties, the drinks, and what happens under the covers. But because I hadn't physically witnessed it before my eyes, never having been to one of these things, it never occurred to me that this actually happened with people in my school. Or maybe I knew, at the back of my mind, but never really comprehended it.

But last term, as I sat with one of the school captains who I'd newly made friends with, and some others asked her about something that happened at her birthday party...my God. It happens. It's all there. And although no one was talking to me, I was blushing mentally because for some reason it just felt so shocking and scandalous.

In a way, to me, it felt like a majority of the teenagers in our school led a secret night life. Of course it's a stupid notion, they're not exactly bashful about it, but just in my stupid head it felt like it.

Then it sort've runs deeper. As I mentioned, I had recently made friends with one of the school captains. Let's call her Helen. I think she's lovely, I do. I mean, she's been around since the beginning of high school, but I had never spoken to her because our social circles were so far apart... and they still are, for that matter. At least, I figured from what she told me.

See, one day she looked stressed, so I asked her how she was doing, and she sort of sighed and said it was all the 'drama'. My expression must have been sort of blank, because she kind of gaped at me, and said: "You mean... you don't know?"

Cue the embarrassed nod.

"Well, I don't want to tell you... because I don't want to backstab, nor do I want to weigh you down," she said. But she explained that because she's the social butterfly that she is, she has a wide range of friends who are forever having fights. They fight, they break up; they kiss, they make up. Every. Single. Day. Kind of like my friends and I in grade two.

And poor Helen gets caught up in this because they're always trying to make her take sides. Most of the time she gets away with playing Switzerland, but recently it's been one of her closest friends, and she mentions this girl... and I'm bamboozled. Because I've seen this girl, I've shared classes with her, I know her vaguely, and she's always so bright and bubbly and happygolucky, and I absolutely cannot fathom her being the sort of petty prima donna that engages in this sort of activity.

No judgement, but once again, it makes me feel like everyone is having this secret life that I'm unaware of.

Anyway, this post is not really about my oblivion. It's about how Helen tells me these intimate things without the detailed gossip (because that's only some of the stuff she's stressed about), things she can't say to her real friends, and I wonder why. I wonder if she realises how little she knows of me, too. And I wonder what else I'm missing from the facade of my seemingly carefree peers.

She's not the only one. I have another friend, this one is more long-term. Lettuce call her Preity. Last term, again, Preity was chatting with Star and I, and I have to let you know: she's what you call really bright and bubbly, happygolucky, hyperactive, made of love. We were talking about things, and one thing led to another, and eventually she told us her father was an alcoholic, he would get angry with her older brothers (who, you could say, are old enough to take care of themselves) he'd hit them, and her mother would faint during these episodes. He never hurt her, though. I don't know how commonly this occurs in her life, but...  yeah. And also, for all her high school life up til like, two weeks ago, her parents have never let her go out with friends. Ever. EVER. And - and this is a normal Asian thing, I suppose ^_^ - her parents have forced her to take all the scienceymaths subjects, which are just not meant for her. Her personality doesn't fit it, and I don't want to be mean, but I don't think she'll do that well. And she doesn't think so either, because they weren't subjects she wanted, nor is she good at them.

("And I thought your parents were strict," Star says to me. I have never thought of my parents as strict, but now I know that if I ever do... well. Well.)

And no one knew about this, at all. We were trying to pep talk her on how to deal with this, and we kept saying she shouldn't have to live like this, but - and this is why I say she's the real bright and bubbly, happygolucky, hyperactive, made of love of person - she was telling all this to us with this big beam on her face. And when we prodded her, she sort of just sighed carelessly and said: 'Well, yeah, I know, but I mean... they're my family. I know they're not perfect, but I still love them anyway.'

And in a weird sort of way, I understand her, and I couldn't push her any further because I felt like somehow, making her change that would ruin her happiness. She's the kind of person who would only be happy if she could make her parents happy. Nevertheless, I've told her that she can spill to me or call me whenever...

... but once again, how doesn't anyone know this stuff? I've known her for almost five years! FIVE! And I didn't know this!

Two of my friends' mothers have cancer. For one, she told me, but it's still a Big Secret, and for the other, my mother told me, and that friend doesn't know that I know.

And to think of the things that I don't tell my friends - it frightens me at all the possibilities of what everyone could be hiding. 

Recently, around the table in my kitchen, I've been hearing things. About the Swindler. About his house. About sending people to check for cameras. About going there at night. About getting the money back in not very nice ways.

And it terrifies me, because there's an underbelly going on in my very own home and I don't know what it is, but I can feel it's something big and it might explode and drag us all down.

Peace in,
Laila