/ Saturday, November 17, 2007
An Anecdote I wrote for English Advanced at the start of Year 11. I found so many pieces of writing that I did that was just fantastic. One of the few times I think I was honest. Got me an A too. XD
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I remember in the deepest recesses of my brain, a tiny bit of my disturbing memories lurked. As a child in my primary school, nobody cared about my wellbeing except for my friends, and even then, barely. Studying at Hurstville Public for a few years, I would never forget the exhiliration I felt when my hands first touched that letter of acceptance into the 'OC' class. Standing for 'Opportunity Class', a select few students were offered a place into these classes. Like the name suggests, the classes aim to provide its students better chances into getting a place in one of NSW's more prestigious 'selective' high schools. At first, I didn't realise the letter was offering me a place, I just stared at the envelope thinking, "The letter's so small, it probably says I didn't make it." I was expecting a large yellow envelope or something similar. I just stared at the envelope until I decided to pass it on to Mother to open, as I couldn't bear to handle the disappointment. Imagine my surprise when Mother broke down and cried all over me, holding the letter in her hand. I blanked and thought, "Its not that bad, is it?!" After another half hour of confusion and chinglish, both sides were at an understanding. Mother laughing at my ignorance and me even more confused at how I made the class and why God liked messing with me.
So there I was, an 'OC boy' as they call it. One of the elite. The upperclass of school society. My fellow classmates all whispered to one another and pouted, "You know him? Yeah, the guy with that
weird name, he made OC. Be careful, he's not like us." I thought, "how different could I be? I'm still the same person. Nothing's changed." But it seemed my status said otherwise. Although I was respected for being an OC, I was neglected in terms of friendship. My mates all thought I was above them, and insisted on our separation, pointing out all our differences. I had never been more confused...
I never thought of myself as 'superior' or 'elite', but my peers all passed me off in that manner, so naturally, I thought I was what they thought I was. In the majority of my peers, I found a niche of other 'OC's' that shared and reflected my situation. I was lonely in terms of friendship, but friendly in terms of classmates. Naturally, we bonded. Since 'OC' classes didn't officially start until the next year, all we had was the label 'OC' without any difference to my classmates. Again, confusion and desolation didn't disappear until I was amongst the other 'OC's'
Over the holidays, I considered what being an OC would require. I was told that only one in every ten people were offered a place in an 'OC' class, which meant that put me in the top ten percent of the state. I was terrified what that meant. "Is there going to be lots of homework? Will i be liked by the teacher? Does that mean there will be more pressure on me?" It isn't until now I realised that those questions are shared between each individual who goes to a new school or applies for a new job.
Once term started, I found myself struggling in a lot of areas academically. What I found more disturbing was I was even more worried about how I was doing socially. Puberty had started...
I hung out with David Tran, a good friend of mine to today. Being a smart person with a very perceptive mind, I relaxed around him. I also hung out with Kevin and Michelle, both being really exceptional friends, with the latter becoming one of my besties today. Since our parents were colleague's at work, we often hung out together. They helped me out when needed and I returned the favour. The year settled into a pattern of ups and downs, much like my testosterone.
By the end of the first 'OC-ed' year, I had grown exponentially in height and I easily dwarfed the class. They were intimidated by my height and I used the advantage in open intimidation. I had also taken an interest in girls. I started taking notice of the girls in my class and no longer looked upon them as alien creatures, but captivating, attention grabbing things. mind you, I still regard their habits as alien, but at least I understand them better. It wasn't just me either. By the first term in year six, I noticed the other guys stealing some glances at particular girls. Being the only guy to consistently talk to girls, ie Michelle, I gained quick access to the gossip hotline the girls were engaged on. I often laughed at the rumours, and sometimes believed them, but looking back today I truly realise how laughable my immaturity was.
The pressure started to come in when the selective school exam date loomed closer and closer. All notions of primary romance were forgotten as heads were nosed into textbooks and pens flew across paper. The anticipation for the end of the exam signified the need to study more for it. Day in and day out were devoted to Maths, English and General Ability.
Pressure from parents also started pouring in. The Chinese Gossip Queen, ie, my Mother, the phone and her friends, provided a wealth of information on my expected marks and what I should I be striving to get. As a result, their conclusion was reflected amongst the Chinese community: tuition. So for four days a week I was sent to tutoring with Kevin and Michelle to learn the finer points of algebra and narratives.
Two months passed in this fashion and finally, the big day came. Nerves were raw, tension was high and a continuous build of nervousness were realised. I felt totally unprepared. My voice was broken, my kneecaps ached and I had a bad cold. "Why?!" I almost cried out, "Why did the almighty have to test me again? I hated what was happening to my body, and I hated the fact I was sick on the most important event in my life at that point. I just wanted things to be like what they used to be, before I made OC. I wanted to cry.
Now that wasn't the best way to feel when an important exam is in your face. I somehow survived it. Actually, I did quite well considering my tornado of emotions. I've managed to enter a selective high school, keep my friends and even gained control over my body again.
When I look back, I realise that alot of what has happened was forced upon me. Even now I find many of what I do still decided by higher powers. As I prepare for my HSC, I know that I will be expected to adopt more events that will aid me in the HSC. Like it was in primary, it is now in selective. I can only do what fate has alloted for me, and hope for the best.
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sigh...so true.
Labels: blog, emotions, exams, literature, memories, rant, stories, stress
/because of my high tolerance.
1:45:00 PM
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