Last Friday a flock of public school children were released into the realm of temporary freedom known as school holidays. “Thank god school is over!” shouts one child to another. Over the tumult you can make out the derisive chuckles of all the nearby Year Twelves. We still have to study for the trials. Fun Fun Fun.
As the term drew to a close, the frenzy of panicked guilt-tripping on the part of the teaching staff was terrible to behold. For my audience that comes from saner parts of Australia and from overseas, the trials for the HSC, not the actual HSC itself, is enough to send spasms into the heart of every year twelve teacher in the state. I’m sure the lead up to the real HSC will cause thunder and lightening, given the drama we have to put up with.
I’m a smart girl, always the top of my class, always the one who should become an engineer or a lawyer. Well at this point in time, all I really want to do is become a useless arts student. One doesn’t need to kill herself over the HSC to achieve that goal. I could get an 80 UAI with two hours sleep and a hangover. While I don’t plan to test that particular boast, I will allow myself to have a holiday. If it says “holiday” on the calendar, then that’s good enough for me.
I’m up to my neck in dot points, syllabi, elective statements and other assorted crap. So for now, fuck it.