Starting Secondary School

In September I started my first year at secondary school. It seems like so long ago, but it’s only been four months. This is my mini account of that awkward time.

September 2012- T Minus One Year

I get up in the morning, scrabbling around for my glasses, knowing this is the beginning of the end,the start of my last year of primary school. School is exactly the same, except for a  lingering sense of grown-upness, as we’re finally the oldest in the school. I know that we have SAT s this year but my teacher has promised us a fun filled year aside from that. I realise now that there is more to my life than just primary school. My horizon is further ahead and now I begin to see that I’m close, so very close to  the next chapter of my life…

March 2013-T Minus Six Months

I’m up at  4:00 am, worried of what will come. Will there even be a place for me at the local secondary school? Will everything work out fine? Four hours later, I’m called into my parents’ room to look at an email they have gotten from the education authority people. Two hours after this I’m busy telling my friends how I’m going to the very school nobody I know is going to. I’m extremely happy, as it’s a good school, but how will everyone there be?

July 2013- T Minus Two Months.

It’s time now. I am officially going for the induction day at my new school. I’m officially a Year Seven- for today anyway. I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my school council and librarian badges, brushing my hair until every last curl has been brushed out. My dad bundles me in the car and the fact that it is sunny and about twenty degrees seriously gives me a boost. My form tutor is really nice, she smiles a lot and by the end of the day I have made an awful lot of friends. My mum picks me up and takes me and my brother and my cousins to McDonalds and then to the ice cream place down the road. I feel better now. I may well be ready.

Still July-

After seven years of being here, it’s finally my last day of primary school. I wake up and iron that brand new poloshirt I had bought specifically to get signed by the kids at school. Our teacher, who’s recently been struck down by tonsillitis, has managed to get into school to sign our shirts. Everyone’s having a competition to see who can get the most signatures on their shirts and there’s a kid in year four repeatedly writing Boris on everyone’s shirts. Oliver from year five is signing our shirts with the name Esmerelda. Mr Cooper comes out of the Year Three classrooms with a ton of ice lollies and Jackie somehow manages to spill melted lolly down her dress. It’s probably the hottest day of the year, but at the end of the day it feels really cold. Chloe burst into fits of tears and giggles when the photo montage comes on in the Year Six assembly.  At the end of the day I pick up my little brother from his classroom and we both walk home, silently, him happy as he is now the oldest in school and me excited for what’s left to come.

August 2013- T-Minus Two Weeks

I run around the house in panic as there is only twelve days left and I have still not bought my uniform. After an hour or so, I’m in the car with my mum, then I’m in the uniform shop, frantically ticking items off of my list. The blazer alone cost around£30 and the grand total was around.. wait for it.. £250! I end up buying half of WHSmith in my quest for perfect organization, and my mum decides we’ve had enough at around 4:00pm.

   September 2013- T Minus Zero

My eyes are open way before dawn. Its time, and I’m ready. My pencil case is full, my phone is charged, my bus pass is in my bag and my skirt and blouse are ironed. My  shoes are polished, my blazer is clean, my lunch is made, and my hair is wet from the shower. I scramble downstairs, still in my pyjamas, at 5:00am and cook (BURN) myself an omelette.  I go back upstairs, pull on my uniform and spend fifteen minutes adjusting it until it looks perfect. I have everything ready and in my hands by 7:10 and I’m at the bus stop ten minutes before the bus even arrives. I’m alright.

T Plus eight hours

I return home , and I wonder what it really was that I was worried about. The day went well, and after all, it was just a day. Just a single day, that really couldn’t have been much.

A single day, no longer and no harder than the rest.

Lovely, eh?


T Plus 2 Years- September 2015

I cannot believe I wrote such a cheesy, weird thing. This is stupid. I was such a weirdo in Year 7. Wow, I thought my form tutor was nice? Obviously this was before she started doing these weird PSHE things called THUNKS in form time and just stopped being all smiley-smiley. WOW. I sound like a mini-English teacher. This is awful. Delete it now. 😀