I distinctly remember high school (i.e. secondary school for you Britons). In the first years at the end of a semester we would sit around as you would have probably done in kindergarten and 'play'. At one these 'play sessions' is the memory that most encapsulates my entire existence in state school education.
My school like most others would be described as poor (or stingy it depends who you spoke to), when the summer vacations drew painfully close our chose of 'play' consisted between the countless-watched two videos, a painful choice between 10 Things I Hate About You and Clueless. This is where my reminiscence begins, I am sitting on those agonising plastic chairs and watching a modest 10-inch screen, where the heroine of the story (in 10 Things I Hate About You) earlier introduced as 'beautiful and deep' is wearing one of those spaghetti-strap summer dresses walking across the school lawn. Her friend turns to her and the dialogue begins:
'I know you can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?'
The confusion is now starting show in the young heroines face while she considers her answer, she too now turns and replies,
'I think you can in Europe!'
Maybe, you too are now confused by the point I am trying to make. If you have watched the movie you are probably less so, as the superficiality and should I say idiocy is all laid bare for you all to see. This was my school that I shall name for confidentiality as High School X.
Let me start again, I (like most other 19-year-olds) am facing the prospect of going back for my second year at university in an engineering field. The prospect of doing so is bringing me such thoughts of: How did I get here? I am a graduate of High School X, who would have dreamed of this moment?
To understand me better you need to understand what this means to me. It was just over a year ago that I brought my university offer home, I treaded over the remains of my neighbourhood, the eerie silence was all that was left from those drug raids. That piece of paper - evidence of my exception offer - was enough to bring tears to my Granma’s eyes. Did you know she wrote to everyone back home to tell them? Did you know she called my mother? And my aunt? And maybe my uncle?
But uni is nothing like High School X, I am not at the top of the class, I am probably not even in the middle. I remember my second ever engineering class as if it was today. I am sitting 5 or 6 rows down from the front where there is that general thinking of how you should never be too close to the professor- you don't want to look to keen! So I’m there making notes trying to take everything in....but it is not working I am getting lost and stuck, I am sure others are too, I look around. Do they look confused? Are those frowns I see? Or are my thoughts projecting onto my interpretation of their faces?
Thirty-five or so minutes later, the finest most supreme student voice is aired onto the class.
'How would you apply that in the nth dimension?'
Was that the moment that I realised I am in a different world? Or did I intuitively know so from the instance i stepped onto the threshold? Is there a reason why I am the only person in my iving memory that has attempted the university road in my entire block?
I made it through the first year through my constant perseverance (with a graceful 2.1), but the prospect of having to work that and more for this year is scaring me. Time is running out. But I shall make it. I hope.
Wish me luck!
Mcarlosa
xx