Hiya Peeps,
First off, this isn't typical Clarissa doing the posting here. This is a friend posting on her behalf as he was recruitedfor his commendable creativity, flare for writing, assiduous pursuit of excellence in work and zeitgeistly vogueishness on par with that of the Clarissa Say herself because she was desperate about being unable to post. As of why, I'm not really sure whether I'm at liberty to explain, so I'll leave that to her when it's done. However, I will join the loud throngs of friends she has in congratulating her for the Nuffnang awards! *clap* *clap*
In a brief moment of weakness, and perhaps because she asked me so nicely, (she has really nice teeth) I decided to abandon my hectic schedule of planning trips, assignments, studying (during the holidays? Yes!), writing letters to my boss, project work and writing stories in order to take up the mantle of this very important job.
Since I'm not your typical writer here, I'm going to write a bit differently from the way she does, so as to add a little variety to this blog. After all, you have all the time in the world to listen to the Cracked.com-Say-MSN pioneered "5 ways of so-and-so" style of writing after this. Please do humour me this.
Just the way you have those lazy substitute teachers who come to class and not know where your real geography teacher left off, I will rant randomly on an issue that nobody knows.
My experience in a Single-Sex education school
Just like many people of Clarissa's age (we're both dinosaurs), I'm already leaving High School and making headways into the many University and Pre-University courses the world has for us. I have friends going into Junior College, others taking up their accountancy courses at University. For the last (XX) years, we've spent so much of our time together, whining about how this teacher is useless when the next door class got the awesomest teacher ever, and gossiping about how that teacher's boyfriend's mom's brother's dog's handphone's brother has a scandal bigger than Dominic Strauss Khan's, and miserably doing our homework.
For the last (XX) years, we've been telling each other how little we've been studying for that upcoming test, when in fact we've been up all night in the closet with a torchlight on with that History textbook. So, in dedication to the past (XX) years, as well as in following Punk Chopstick's tradition of writing things in the Lowest Common Denominator, I will write about my experience in High School. For the benefit of nostalgia for all of you, and perhaps a bit of experience for those who are younger.
High School will never be an breeze for anyone. It's not so much about studying as it is about one finding one's identity and being prepared for the working world ahead. Yet when one grows up, one often wonders- "Dang, High School was a no-brainer. All I ever had to do was study." It's very easy to forget what happened in between such as:
Class:
We quietly as sheep sit down, take out our materials for the day, place it neatly on the table, and with a smile, listen quietly to our teacher, and begin taking down notes, before proceeding to complete our class assignments and accept some homework. This is exactly what we do. Right?
In reality, all sorts of behaviour is tolerable. In my experience, classrooms are the stuff of legends - but only in boy's only schools such as mine. Co-ed and Girl's schools probably don't have all that much fun.
The classroom is simply a room with lots of tables and chairs in it. (Maybe an aquarium). Anything and everything is free game. Que soccer, basketball, hockey. You name it, we've got it. For a short while, throwing paper balls at a fan and seeing where it landed became a sport. Later some of us vandalised the fan by sticking the broom up there. If there was an aquarium, there WAS an aquarium for a reason. For some of the more learned of us, we also conducted physics experiments there- for example, experiments on the relative ability of the whiteboard to withstand impact relative to the leg of a chair, and flight distances of glass objects from the third story of a building.
Be sure to invite the prefects to join in the fun!
When teacher's are around, that's even better - because you can still continue the aforementioned, only you have an additional audience. Even if she has a cane, because face it, she can't use the cane for anything except for hitting the table. If she hits you she'll have to deal with your parents. Who aren't going to believe her story since you're such a good boy. Bonus points if you can make her cry.
Pendidikan Jasmani/ Physical Education:
This is probably the most enjoyed time of a secondary school student aside from recess. This is when you get to go down to the field and start chasing that ball around the field screaming OIII!!!! FOUL! Nevermind that half of the time the game's going to stop because someone cried foul and both sides will start heckling over whose fault it was. Or whether it went past that imaginary boundary in the field.
If you're in a boy' school, it's almost always Football. Even in the rain. And when your teacher tells you that you can't go down to the field for any reason at all, riot! It's a God-given right written in the constitution and justice must be served! Down with tyranny and oppression! Aux armes citoyens! Formez vouz batailons! Qi lai bu yuan zhuo nu li de renmen!
Unless you're a wuss who like badminton or *snigger* catching.
Exam time:
For the great majority of us, that marks that wonderful time when we stop all outdoor activities and start cramming sweet sweet knowledge into our heads, most of which is only useful for fitting into a blank on a piece of paper. A lot of us will start tripping over our "picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor" in the form of books and study-aids. In our mad scramble to beat the clock.
Some of us will be bound to do all sorts of creative note-making with our multi-coloured mindmaps and tables, or multi-colour highlight the books such that the only thing that stands out really is whatever's not highlighted.
And for the rest of us - who went by an exam without realising, it's that time when you part the tables in the class and the teacher passes you this white sheets of paper. Yes, the one that you doodled on. Oh, do I see that sudden face of recognition?! Yes, you were supposed to study for it. Too late for you I suppose.
And that I suppose sums it up for the life of a student in an all-boy's school. Ciao!
Sincerely,
Deliciousvendibles.
First off, this isn't typical Clarissa doing the posting here. This is a friend posting on her behalf as he was recruited
In a brief moment of weakness, and perhaps because she asked me so nicely, (she has really nice teeth) I decided to abandon my hectic schedule of planning trips, assignments, studying (during the holidays? Yes!), writing letters to my boss, project work and writing stories in order to take up the mantle of this very important job.
Since I'm not your typical writer here, I'm going to write a bit differently from the way she does, so as to add a little variety to this blog. After all, you have all the time in the world to listen to the Cracked.com-Say-MSN pioneered "5 ways of so-and-so" style of writing after this. Please do humour me this.
Just the way you have those lazy substitute teachers who come to class and not know where your real geography teacher left off, I will rant randomly on an issue that nobody knows.
My experience in a Single-Sex education school
Just like many people of Clarissa's age (we're both dinosaurs), I'm already leaving High School and making headways into the many University and Pre-University courses the world has for us. I have friends going into Junior College, others taking up their accountancy courses at University. For the last (XX) years, we've spent so much of our time together, whining about how this teacher is useless when the next door class got the awesomest teacher ever, and gossiping about how that teacher's boyfriend's mom's brother's dog's handphone's brother has a scandal bigger than Dominic Strauss Khan's, and miserably doing our homework.
For the last (XX) years, we've been telling each other how little we've been studying for that upcoming test, when in fact we've been up all night in the closet with a torchlight on with that History textbook. So, in dedication to the past (XX) years, as well as in following Punk Chopstick's tradition of writing things in the Lowest Common Denominator, I will write about my experience in High School. For the benefit of nostalgia for all of you, and perhaps a bit of experience for those who are younger.
High School will never be an breeze for anyone. It's not so much about studying as it is about one finding one's identity and being prepared for the working world ahead. Yet when one grows up, one often wonders- "Dang, High School was a no-brainer. All I ever had to do was study." It's very easy to forget what happened in between such as:
Class:
We quietly as sheep sit down, take out our materials for the day, place it neatly on the table, and with a smile, listen quietly to our teacher, and begin taking down notes, before proceeding to complete our class assignments and accept some homework. This is exactly what we do. Right?
In reality, all sorts of behaviour is tolerable. In my experience, classrooms are the stuff of legends - but only in boy's only schools such as mine. Co-ed and Girl's schools probably don't have all that much fun.
The classroom is simply a room with lots of tables and chairs in it. (Maybe an aquarium). Anything and everything is free game. Que soccer, basketball, hockey. You name it, we've got it. For a short while, throwing paper balls at a fan and seeing where it landed became a sport. Later some of us vandalised the fan by sticking the broom up there. If there was an aquarium, there WAS an aquarium for a reason. For some of the more learned of us, we also conducted physics experiments there- for example, experiments on the relative ability of the whiteboard to withstand impact relative to the leg of a chair, and flight distances of glass objects from the third story of a building.
Be sure to invite the prefects to join in the fun!
When teacher's are around, that's even better - because you can still continue the aforementioned, only you have an additional audience. Even if she has a cane, because face it, she can't use the cane for anything except for hitting the table. If she hits you she'll have to deal with your parents. Who aren't going to believe her story since you're such a good boy. Bonus points if you can make her cry.
Pendidikan Jasmani/ Physical Education:
This is probably the most enjoyed time of a secondary school student aside from recess. This is when you get to go down to the field and start chasing that ball around the field screaming OIII!!!! FOUL! Nevermind that half of the time the game's going to stop because someone cried foul and both sides will start heckling over whose fault it was. Or whether it went past that imaginary boundary in the field.
If you're in a boy' school, it's almost always Football. Even in the rain. And when your teacher tells you that you can't go down to the field for any reason at all, riot! It's a God-given right written in the constitution and justice must be served! Down with tyranny and oppression! Aux armes citoyens! Formez vouz batailons! Qi lai bu yuan zhuo nu li de renmen!
Unless you're a wuss who like badminton or *snigger* catching.
Exam time:
For the great majority of us, that marks that wonderful time when we stop all outdoor activities and start cramming sweet sweet knowledge into our heads, most of which is only useful for fitting into a blank on a piece of paper. A lot of us will start tripping over our "picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor" in the form of books and study-aids. In our mad scramble to beat the clock.
Some of us will be bound to do all sorts of creative note-making with our multi-coloured mindmaps and tables, or multi-colour highlight the books such that the only thing that stands out really is whatever's not highlighted.
And for the rest of us - who went by an exam without realising, it's that time when you part the tables in the class and the teacher passes you this white sheets of paper. Yes, the one that you doodled on. Oh, do I see that sudden face of recognition?! Yes, you were supposed to study for it. Too late for you I suppose.
And that I suppose sums it up for the life of a student in an all-boy's school. Ciao!
Sincerely,
Deliciousvendibles.
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