Five hours in a plastic desk, in a freezing cold gym, in pants that I should have consulted someone else before wearing.
Who ever decided that it would be a good idea to put the Socials and English exams back to back is a villainous, evil, evil person. This morning the entire English attendees assembled in the school foyer, only to be confined to small unforgiving desk units and confronted with essays and analysts. Now essays are fine. Writing is good, thinking about what you're writing is good too. But picking apart a picture of a bald man using shearing scissors in his garden outside of a construction site? REALLY?! What emotion is that suppose to invoke? I swear, I tried. I tried really, really hard to study the image and pull meaning from the old man wearing his ratty white tank top. I observed the contrast and followed the lines, tried to imagine what it would be like to wear his chocolate brown shoes and to hear the cranes outside of his yard. I looked his expression, what was this man trying to communicate? Why was he making such a pained face while cutting back his shrubbery?
Still, I felt nothing.
I was looking a grumpy old folk, doing an everyday thing, in an ordinary picture. So I did what every English teacher will tell you to avoid unless completely necessary. Under the circumstances, I believed it to be crucial for my grade.
I lied through my teeth and wrote exactly what she wanted me to.
Sometimes it sucks trying to get that good mark, especially when you are forced to create false meanings and themes to write paragraphs without any soul. Nevertheless, English is drama on paper and sometimes the plot lines have to suck before they make it up on stage.
So I wrote my soulless analyst and finished just in time to dash out for lunch and make it to the socials exam. With all the essay writing I have a blister on my finger (I write like a three year old, and press too hard) as well as cramps in various places in my hand.
Worth the pain? Very much so.
Summer is upon us.
Happy school year!
Arctic Hipster
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