|Arabesque by Toonikun|
Yesterday our year advisor called all the new year 11 students for a meeting at lunch. She asks us who's in our “friendship group”. If she asked last week I wouldn’t be able to tell her.
She also asked how we’re settling in. As if anyone is going to say anything other than good in front of so many people. She’s not expecting a bad answer, and really, asking that question then is guaranteeing that there will be no negative answer. If someone had said there’s a problem settling in when she asked, I’m sure that she won’t be prepared for it. Things will get awkward and she’ll probably think worse of that person. If the person is bold enough to give a negative answer, she’s probably bold enough to have made friends anyway. There’s no point in asking that question at that time except to confirm to herself that no, there is no problem, and yes, everything is perfect just like I expected.
There’s something I forgot to mention yesterday, and I told myself I wouldn’t. The female tennis coach has a French accent. That’s significant because it’s the first time I’ve heard anyone speak that way in real life. She actually does pronounce her “the” like “zhe”. I was a little surprised that I could tell it was French immediately (just a little though). It just shows how all-compassing the media is and how globalised we are. I don’t even remember ever hearing someone speak with a French accent on TV!
You remember the did you knows we had at the top of our homework diaries on every page? Well today my Economics teacher said (to justify his own made up statistic in an example) that “Did you know 56% of all statistics is made up on the spot?” Doesn’t that sound familiar. I remember seeing that one for at least two years in a row in our diaries.
Speaking of diaries, Sydney Girls doesn’t give out diaries. The students have to buy it themselves from the uniform shop. And they don’t even sell diaries to year 11s. As a girls said, it’s in year 11 that we really need to get organised. So now everyone is using their own diary. I’m using the one I bought at Morning Glory for the tarot cards came with it. Helena should know the tarot cards I’m talking about.
In period three (right before recess) we sat in a woodwork room for more than half the period waiting for our Physics teacher. He forgot he had a class at all and according to him, was cutting himself a nice piece of cake and made a cup of coffee. We were just doing our own thing, reading or chatting, or in one case, eating recess. Physics is such a bludge with him, but Physics is a subject that we probably can’t afford to bludge in. I guess I just have to work harder at home. I really need a tutor for physics and chemistry.
I edited this post, and half the post went missing. Sometimes blogspot does weird things. So the last part of this post was retyped, and I might have forgotten some of what I wanted to say. I realise that, once again, the length of the posts have become unreasonable. I’ll try to watch the length of the posts from now on, but you know that words get away from me. *ashamed* ( * ^ * | | |)