17 posts tagged “school”
I got my AP scores over the phone out of boredom and curiosity today. They are as follows:
AP English Literature - 4
AP Psychology - 4
For those of you who are wondering what I got cumulatively (meaning over all the years I took the AP exams), they are as follows:
AP English Language - 3
AP U.S. History - 4
AP English Language - 4
AP Psychology - 4
Now, I would be extremely proud of all of those if not for this fact: the second Psych essay was ridiculous. Flat-out. I looked at that essay and swore aloud in the testing room. We (meaning the class) were under the impression that the AP Psych essays were sort of a "Whitman's Sampler", if you will, of terminology: a scenario would be outlined, then four or five different terms would be given, and you, as the writer, would have to use them to explain possible outcomes of the situation, or at least how they related to the situation given. That's fine.
In fact, our first essay was just like that...well, except for the fact that we had eight to use and we weren't allowed to define them in our essay -- the prompt actually said "no credit will be given for definitions", so it was a pain to do. The other essay however, was even more of a pain. If the first one was a poke in the arm, the second one was like having the aforementioned arm broken...in multiple places.
The College Board is supposedly trying to get away from abnormal psychology on the Psych exam under the reasoning that students do not know enough about normal psych (as the AP exam is supposedly the rough equivalent of a first-year college course) to be able to give in-depth, college-level answers to questions involving abnormal psych. Perfect logic.
Which is why it made absolutely no sense to make the entire second essay, half of the written portion, about one psychological disorder. It completely threw me off...we didn't do too much about schizophrenia in class, so having an entire essay on it was a recipe for my undoing. Had that second essay been on something else, you know, maybe on normal psychology, like the college board was supposed to be testing us on, I'm pretty sure I would have gotten a five.
Chris, however, has earned my hatred for the next two weeks: he took six AP exams and passed all of them -- and got a five on what's considered one of the toughest AP tests the College Board administers. Hate you.
What annoys me the most about the situation, however, is that I will receive no real credit for any of the work I did on either of those tests. The school does not give exemptions for any of their required classes -- all I'll get is credit in electives...which doesn't help, at all. Ugh. I also found out that the university doesn't have dryers. We're paying 35,000 dollars a year and you can't give us dryers? What?
At least I don't have anything to worry about for the next month, except losing some weight and buying clothes for school...blah.
I will probably get the "biggest nerd ever" award for this, but I really don't care. Now that I think about it, I think everyone has something that they want to do or feel like they have to do that people would find odd. So, forget it: I'm not apologizing for this.
My senior year of high school was horrible, mostly for no fault of my own. I had give up all of my extracurricular activities and I had to give up the idea of having a job or getting a license due to my family. Ginger was in a mental hospital (and frankly, she should still be there, but because my parents don't want anything making them look like bad parents, they took her out early by employing some less-than-honest means to my understanding) and Carly had been running away nonstop (again, my parents won't put her into any kind of facility or anything like that because they don't want to look like bad parents; the way they see it, they can handle anything that comes to them...frankly, I think they're the problem, period), so my parents told me flat-out: "We're sorry. You shouldn't have to give up everything just because they want to be stupid."
So, I have no license, no job; I gave up all my activities in my last year of school, and missed out (because of that withdraw) from a few recognitions that could have given me money for college. My parents and siblings know there's nothing they can do to fix it, so nothing is ever mentioned...but everyone here knows that I got the short end of the stick for the last year or so, for no good reason. I definitely didn't deserve it.
As a result, I really shortchanged myself in a lot of classes. I'm going to be extremely honest: for the majority of my AP classes, I never had to study. I could go into class, pay attention, and ace a test. I could do my homework assignments, even the projects and essays, within 45 minutes tops. I took four AP level classes, and with the exception of one, I never got anything below an A. And if you know how much time I missed in school...that could seriously be taken as an insult to my teachers. I don't mean it that way, though. I've just never been someone who needed to take too many notes...I'm wired for auditory learning, I guess.
That fact scares me. Especially with my English class. I will be extremely honest again: I made good marks in that class based off of three factors: luck, charisma, and frankly, according to some people, good looks. I didn't have to do nearly as much work as I would have done let's say, in AP English last year -- that class became so difficult when the new teacher took over that he was able to scare off about six students from the AP class the next year, and I loved him for it. But for some reason, this year was different...
And for me, that's flat out unacceptable.
I love, adore, praise, and am fascinated by language. I took my senior year learning more about the mechanics of language (I took three languages at the same time; four if you count English), but I really never took the time to appreciate the literature to the extent that I should have, or even wanted to. Sure, I can tell you what happened in Waiting For Godot, or I can make a darn good summary and analysis of Hamlet, but did I really take the time to sit down, pause, and simply take them in for everything they're worth? No.
I'm going into college as an Education and English major. Sure, I may have an excuse, but now that I have the free time, there's no reason for me not to do this.
Today, I am buying a large notebook. I have books at my house, and I have Wikisource bookmarked. I am going to do all of the work I should have done; all of the appreciation, reading, and writing that someone who loves the written word as much as I do should have done much earlier. I will be reading them, taking notes, and keeping all of the notes I take.
I'm starting with the works of Shakespeare. I'm not sure where I'll be going after that. Probably to the Brontë sisters' works, since they were written in relatively close time to one another. I have so much to read, but I'm excited by it all at the same time.
I want to be an expert at something. I want to be able to say that I put in the hours of work for something and overcame the obstacles. I deserve that much. And for me, that "something" is my native language; the words with which I think, feel, and express myself...and the language in which obviously, many great people have done the same.
Feel free to suggest some novels, plays, or epic poems I should read. I'd appreciate it.
I've been meaning to write this entry, but I've been simply entirely too exhausted to do it. Thankfully, I've been catching up on my sleep over the past few days -- it feels fantastic. I think I've just become used to being tired over all these years. Well, hopefully I won't be sleeping in too long; I applied for a job. I hope I get it, I really need something to do Monday through Friday now...
Friday morning was absolutely insane. My classmates and I had to be at the community college for our last rehearsal by 7:40 in the morning. I was up at 5. and ready by 6 in full attire. Mom woke up at 6 and finally, after taking forever to get ready, asked me: "Marisa, are you supposed to be in your dress?"
"I think so. I'm not sure."
"Call someone."
"I tried...nobody's quite sure. Chris isn't answering, and Matt told me to 'follow my heart'."
"Follow your heart?"
"Yeah, I have no idea what that means, either...so I'm just gonna keep this on, but bring my other clothes with me in case I don't have to wear it. We can just drive over somewhere and change."
"That'll take too long. Just keep what you have on."
Well, guess who was right? We got there and nobody's wearing their dress clothes, except for one total weirdo. Mom looks at me and says: "Well, you should have just brought your other clothes with you." Mom logic is fantastic.
So, we wind up driving back home. I put on my clothes faster than I ever have in my life, I run outside, and we drive back to the university. I made it just in time. Memo to self: never let my Mother talk me out of being prepared for things. It generally doesn't work out well. I still don't know how she managed to make me change my mind.
Rehearsal was tedious. First off, the building itself is about ten degrees hotter than it is outside -- and that's saying something on the first of June. It was stuffy, hot, and flat-out disgusting. On top of that, there had been some last minute line changes -- specifically with where I was supposed to be standing. Since I was a member of the chorus (and I therefore had to sign), the place where I was supposed to stand was changed for ease of movement from one place to another. It was nerve-racking since I was now out of alphabetical order, but I eventually got it.
We practiced filing in and out, and also how to get our diplomas -- with our final report cards acting as the faux-diplomas. The assistant principal had fun saying my full name (she used to be a foreign language teacher, and she becomes entirely too excited by being able to use her accent), and thankfully, she pronounced it in a way that's acceptable to both sides of my family.
Chris and I decided to ride together home, since I wasn't sure if he had a ride, and since my Mother really wanted to meet him. We wound up waiting there for over an hour. At first, I was just mad, but then I got worried.
Turns out that she ran out of gas on the road, and had to have my Dad bring gas to her in a can. Apparently, he treated her like crap and called her "the dumbest f---ing b---- he's ever met", while shaking uncontrollably and foaming at the mouth, but she says she still loves him. I'll never understand. Chris and I wound up being able to hang out for about an hour at my house, which meant entirely too much to me...even though we only wound up watching random things on YouTube and looking at episodes of South Park. But I guess that's what friendship is, isn't it? It's not something that comes in a huge package...it's something quiet that you never truly realize until you see it slipping through your fingers.
Fast forward to about 3:15 PM. I'm at the college, ready to go. It's entirely too hot, and the cap is killing my hair. JUST GIVE ME THE DIPLOMA. Finally, after some rehearsal with the choir, I go out and line up. It's too hot. We all just want to fall over and die.
...four PM finally hits. It begins.
I'll keep it short. I am the owner of a diploma, with all three of my names on it. I also have honors in Latin, Social Studies, Foreign Language, Technology Education/Engineering, and a thousand dollars worth in local scholarships.
Chris' speech was good, but he was so nervous. I got to sing (thank goodness), and I did cry, a little bit...
I think the reason why I don't want to write about this is because I don't want to believe it's actually happened. I don't want to believe that I'll never see some of these people ever again. I don't want to believe that I'll never have another class with Liz, or that I'll never hear Matt call me "Bosley" again (he obsessively called me it after graduation, I guess because he realized it too), or that I'll never be able to burn through a paper in Latin class like Paris Hilton burned through boyfriends. I can't believe that it's done.
So yes, I'm sorry that this entry sucks.
Who knows, in six years, I may be back...it depends on if I'm willing to take the service obligation that comes with one scholarship I qualify for...
Yesterday was just horrible. I'm sorry, but I never thought that senioritis would hit me as hard as it has. After not going to school for five days, I was DONE -- I just loved it. I loved being able to sleep until 10 AM, to be able to watch all of my downloaded episodes of Futurama on my computer (someone should buy me it on DVD...hint hint), to BREATHE without worrying about obligations.
Though that does remind me. I almost wasn't allowed to get my graduation things because of "obligations".
Y'see, this year's senior class isn't known for doing much good in terms of...well, anything. Nobody paid dues (unless you wanted to go to prom; then you were forced to), nobody did any kind of fund raising, and nobody turned in their books. At the near-end of the graduation rehearsal (which I will talk about later), we were to get our caps and gowns, and buy our yearbooks. UNLESS, of course, you had an obligation...in which case, you were not given any of your things, and you were not allowed to get your yearbook.
The teachers in the room scrolled down the names of the people, reading them aloud (some names popped up two, three, and I think even four times). Almost half of the class, by the school's standards, had obligations. To my shock, my name was called, and I had to be seated on the other side of the auditorium.
My first thought was: "I am going to kill my English teacher." Most of the people whom I saw were in the same English class as I was, and, meaning no offense, our teacher wasn't exactly the best about turning things in, or giving us papers. We all kind of looked at each other thinking the same thing: "If we owe English books, he's dead."
Thankfully, my obligation was not for English class. I owed a book called "Criminalistics", for Forensics class.
One problem: I never took forensics. Ever.
When I told the teachers that, none of them really cared. The only one who was somewhat nice to me was a secretary who was helping with the rehearsal: "Sweetheart, we only go by what's on the paper. If you really never took the class, you're going to have to talk to someone about this later."
I. Was. Pissed. I'm sorry, but if you're going to...accuse me (a strong word, I know)...of something I didn't do, I'm not going to *wait* to talk to someone about it. Thankfully, the principal was there, and he referred me to the right person (who then had to go to another person, and go through school files...)...still, it was ridiculous.
And the fact that I still had to wait to get my things because of their mistake just made my blood boil. Whatever, I have my cap, my gown, and my sixty-dollar yearbook that isn't even entirely in color.
My Mom put in a "senior ad" for me...which I just love. I took a picture of it and have it on my Flickr account. The only thing that bothered me (and my Mom) was that the editors of the yearbook took some liberties with what she wrote and changed some of it. Sure, they were little things, but obviously, my Mom was less than happy about it...especially since she had to pay them, and she won't get any of those photos of me back. I only have a few signatures in my yearbook right now: Liz's (whose writing took up about 1/2 of a page), Mrs. B-P's (my AP Psychology teacher), and now Chris's. His almost made me cry.
I'll write more when I get home.
So, I spent 1/3 of my money yesterday on junk for either me, my sister, or the house. AND it made me sick afterwards. BOO. I'm just going to give my Mom part of my money and ask her to hold onto it for me -- I consider myself to be a responsible kid, but sometimes you gotta know your own limitations.
Good news: I'm getting another job, hopefully after I graduate. I was going to apply for it as soon as I got home yesterday, but they asked for your level of education. Since I don't have my diploma yet , I'm going to wait until after June 1st so I can write down that I have it. Hopefully I'll be working five days a week -- I can't stand not having anything to do. I start to go nuts. Ideally, I would be working Monday through Friday, and maybe Saturday mornings. I wouldn't want to work on Sundays, though. The weekends are mine to play with.
A funny thing happened while I was out yesterday, and I just want to make sure it's written down so I can hold onto it. While I was walking to the store to get something for Ginger (she owes me a favor, big time -- they didn't have the individual version of what she wanted, so I wound up getting her the larger version of it), I heard barking. I turned around and saw a puppy standing in front of me. As soon as I looked at it, it barked once, then became very docile. I kneeled down to look at it, and it just looked so sad. I said "hello" to it, and began to walk away. It followed me, still barking. Every time I went to look at it, though, it stopped. It, for some reason, liked my attention. I kept walking, though, and resolved, "OK dog, if you want to walk with me, that's fine."
It looked so sad when its owner started yelling at it to get inside. The person sounded so mean that it made me cringe. I wish I could have helped it a little more.
I don't really have much more to write about. I have one final today -- my Latin final, which I'm not too worried about. Still, I don't necessarily feel like going to school today. It's a week of state testing for underclassmen, so the schedules are pretty much out the window. Yesterday, for example, the entire AP English class was thrown into a room with some other kids (yearbook students, I think?) and were forced to watch Forrest Gump for two hours. Oh, and seniors didn't get lunch -- we were sent straight to exams. I was informed that that's...illegal, but who cares, right?
So, yesterday was pretty interesting in terms of things that happened. It was an easy day at school; lots of sitting back and relaxing. The AP Psychology exam is today, so we spent yesterday's Psych class just mentally preparing for this test. I'm not worried, but for some weird reason this year, tenth graders were allowed to be in the class (which is really...ridiculous), and they are (understandably) really worried. I don't think any of them will get above a 3, just because it's their first big test. I wish them luck, though.
Latin class was entirely too amusing. We watched the big chariot scene in Ben-Hur, mostly because our teacher had his son in the class -- his school has already closed for the year. Let me say this: this kid (Matthew) is the coolest five year old I've met (he's also the only one I've met, but whatever, the point still stands). He spent most of the class playing with a kid in the class named Cody -- something about wild animals and chariots.
Well, Matthew comes over and talks to me and to Max. I tell him he can sit down with us if he'd like (there's an extra desk between us with no one sitting in it). He's still talking about animals:
Max: Were you playing with Cody?
Matt: Yes...he looks like an animal. (Seriously: He dressed up. It was GREAT.) *to me* You look like one too.
Me: Well I guess I can see it...which one?
Matt: You look like a lion...with the hair.
We talked to him about his school, about how he was excited about his graduation -- he said it was funny that my graduation was right after his (there's about a two-week difference; I think his is this week, and mine is June 1st). We also talked about his fascination with tape -- seriously. This kid could amuse himself for days if you gave him three rolls of tape; it's quite sweet. I told Max that I was just going to bring in a gigantic roll of duct tape for him, heh. Well, Matthew asked me if I would make him a paper airplane, so we made one together -- I did the folding, and he taped it so it wouldn't fall apart (see what I mean about loving tape?). It actually flew, and it flew really well. Then things got funny:
Me: *bored* ...Let's draw on the plane.
Matt: What are we going to draw?
Me: SNAKES.
Max: DRAW SAMUEL L. JACKSON ON THERE!
Matt: Snakes?
Me: Yes. SNAKES. See? *shows him one*
Matt: Snaaaaaaaakkkeessss! *makes a hissing noise*
Me: *also makes hissing noises* ...Alright, I'm done drawing.
Matt: Okay. Now I'm gonna throw it.
*he gets nervous*
Matt: You do it first. (Totally trying to make sure he doesn't get in trouble, heh)
Me: Okay! *looks for an open space and throws*
Matt: Look out! There's snakes on the plane!
ROCK. COMPLETE AND TOTAL ROCK. I swear, I think I have too much fun sometimes. I have a gigantic box of crayons in my room that I haven't opened -- I think I'm going to give them to him since apparently, he'll be here all week. This is going to be entirely too amusing -- I'll have to write about the other times he was in our classes.
I went home and got into an argument with my Dad. Sure, it doesn't sound like there could be any positive aspect to that, but really, there wound up being a big one. My room's key is missing (I hold that it's been stolen; it's happened before). Ginger has been coming into my room, stealing stuff from my room, getting on computer, and damaging it -- now physically (there's something wrong with one of the plugs for headphones). She swears up and down that she hasn't been getting on, but she's been plugging the headphones back into the wrong place, so I know she's been on it.
Every time I've told my Mom about this, she says the same thing: tell your father. The first time I told Dad, he said this: "You have no proof she was in your room." Fine. I waited until I had proof and showed it to him. That time, he said this: "You have a room key. Use it." ...I would, if it hadn't been STOLEN. I finally tell him again, and he goes off on me: "Stop whining. You're an adult, start acting like it."
I leave the house with some money and ask my brother to help me out. He takes me to the Home Depot and not only gets me a new doorknob with a key -- he pays for part of it. We talk about the living situation in my house -- which I cannot stand -- and how even though I respect both of my parents, I just don't like them for what they've done (in my opinion) to the mental and emotional well-being of the family. I told Tony, and I've told my sisters too -- the only reason I care about my grades as much as I do is because I know that they are the only safe and legitimate way OUT of my living situation. I told Tony that I still needed to learn to drive, and he seemed concerned.
He pulled out a cellphone, called a friend, and like that -- I now have someone teaching me to drive every day. Tony said for me to make the appointment for the test with the DMV for the day my permit expires -- June 12th. I was so excited I could have fallen over.
Dad wasn't happy that I went to Tony for help (Mom said I "really hurt his feelings"), but you know what? The way I see it, if he wants to be a jerk -- and he does -- and I'm going to be an "adult", then he just has to accept the fact that I will not want to be near him. I haven't wanted to for years. I respect him for being a remarkably hardworking man (he is, seriously -- that man does NOT have an off switch, and that's where I get it), but I can't forgive him for some things. As soon as I get to the university, I'm going to the shrink. Seriously.
Sorry for the lack of entries; my stress-filled and overall unhealthy lifestyle has slowly gotten the better of me over the past week. I've gained weight, but with all the work I'll be doing from now on, I'm pretty sure I'll lose the three pounds that I've gained. From now on, I have to get up at 3:30 AM on Sundays for work. I start at 5:30 AM and I don't get to go home until about 2 PM. Whatever, I guess; it's money.
I managed to make a pretty good impression with the boss: I was on time, I was polite, I went above and beyond her expectations in terms of responsibilities (she told me I wouldn't have to use the oven on the first day, but since people kept ordering things that needed to be heated in the oven, I figured it out), and then went above her expectations in terms of ability: I was able to give people their totals with tax included upon their request without a calculator (I heard her and the other regulars say to one another after hearing me give someone a correct total, in my head, on the fly: "Holy crap. She can do math!"), and I was able to take orders in Spanish, which was much more convenient for some of the customers, particularly some of the children (whom I could tell had a limited vocabulary in English). The only problem was that I wasn't, and still am not adjusted to being on my feet for eight to ten hours essentially non-stop -- she actually sent me home early because I was scared that my legs couldn't carry me home. I felt guilty, but she said two things to me over the day that made me realize that as long as I could learn to handle the physical component of the job, I would be fine: "You're not allowed to leave for the next three months", and right before I left, "The good ones never last long."
I came home with sore legs, raw feet, first and second degree burns on my hands, and let me say -- it felt great. I'm not a fan of waking up this early on a weekend, but there's something remarkably fulfilling about going for something and following it through -- about putting in an honest day of work and having something to show for it. If I were confident enough in my ability to handle it as of right now, I would go in on Saturday and just tell my boss that if I want to take this seriously, I have to jump in. What can I say: I'm stubborn, I'm a slight workaholic, and I need the money. Hopefully I'll be working both days by next week.
On the tenth, I took the AP Literature test with four others: it was Matt, Ryan, Dave, Chris, and I, the lone female of the group. It wasn't a difficult test, but it was extremely draining. I can't talk about any of the questions (legally), but it was just a bear. I've never been that drained after a test. Once we left the fire hall (where the AP tests are administered), I did nothing for the rest of the day in any of my classes. Absolutely nothing. My brain was fried. I think I got at least a three, though.
The next AP test for me is my last one, Psychology, on the 15th. I can get a four on that, easily.
I feel really out of it; I've been sick for the past few days. I promise I'll write more when I'm able.
Taken from the New York Times.
"Young, Gifted, and Not Getting Into Harvard"
On a Sunday morning a few months back, I interviewed my final Harvard
applicant of the year. After saying goodbye to the girl and watching
her and her mother drive off, I headed to the beach at the end of our
street for a run.
It was a spectacular winter day, bright, sunny and cold; the tide was
out, the waves were high, and I had the beach to myself. As I ran, I
thought the same thing I do after all these interviews: Another amazing
kid who won’t get into Harvard.
That used to upset me. But I’ve changed.
Over the last decade, I’ve done perhaps 40 of these interviews, which are conducted by alumni across the country. They’re my only remaining link to my alma mater; I’ve never been back to a reunion or a football game, and my total donations since graduating in the 1970s do not add up to four figures.
No matter how glowing my recommendations, in all this time only one kid, a girl, got in, many years back. I do not tell this to the eager, well-groomed seniors who settle onto the couch in our den. They’re under too much pressure already. Better than anyone, they know the odds, particularly for a kid from a New York suburb.
By the time I meet them, they’re pros at working the system. Some have Googled me because they think knowing about me will improve their odds. After the interview, many send handwritten thank-you notes saying how much they enjoyed meeting me.
I used to be upset by these attempts to ingratiate. Since I’ve watched my own children go through similar torture, I find these gestures touching. Everyone’s trying so hard.
My reason for doing these interviews has shifted over time. When I started, my kids were young, and I thought it might give them a little advantage when they applied to Harvard. That has turned out not to be an issue. My oldest, now a college freshman, did not apply, nor will my twins, who are both high school juniors.
We are not snubbing Harvard. Even my oldest, who is my most academic son, did not quite have the class rank or the SATs. His SAT score was probably 100 points too low — though it was identical to the SAT score that got me in 35 years ago.
Why do I continue to interview? It’s very moving meeting all these bright young people who won’t get into Harvard. Recent news articles make it sound unbearably tragic. Several Ivies, including Harvard, rejected a record number of applicants this year.
Actually, meeting the soon-to-be rejected makes me hopeful about young people. They are far more accomplished than I was at their age and without a doubt will do superbly wherever they go.
Knowing me and seeing them is like witnessing some major evolutionary change take place in just 35 years, from the Neanderthal Harvard applicant of 1970 to today’s fully evolved Homo sapiens applicant.
There was the girl who, during summer vacation, left her house before 7 each morning to make a two-hour train ride to a major university, where she worked all day doing cutting-edge research for NASA on weightlessness in mice.
When I was in high school, my 10th-grade science project was on plant tropism — a shoebox with soil and bean sprouts bending toward the light.
These kids who don’t get into Harvard spend summers on schooners in Chesapeake Bay studying marine biology, building homes for the poor in Central America, touring Europe with all-star orchestras.
Summers, I dug trenches for my local sewer department during the day, and sold hot dogs at Fenway Park at night.
As I listen to them, I can visualize their parents, striving to teach excellence. One girl I interviewed described how her father made her watch the 2004 convention speeches by both President Bush and Senator John Kerry and then tell him which she liked better and why.
What kind of kid doesn’t get into Harvard? Well, there was the charming boy I interviewed with 1560 SATs. He did cancer research in the summer; played two instruments in three orchestras; and composed his own music. He redid the computer system for his student paper, loved to cook and was writing his own cookbook. One of his specialties was snapper poached in tea and served with noodle cake.
At his age, when I got hungry, I made myself peanut butter and jam on white bread and got into Harvard.
Some take 10 AP courses and get top scores of 5 on all of them.
I took one AP course and scored 3.
Of course, evolution is not the same as progress. These kids have an AP history textbook that has been specially created to match the content of the AP test, as well as review books and tutors for those tests. We had no AP textbook; many of our readings came from primary documents, and there was no Princeton Review then. I was never tutored in anything and walked into the SATs without having seen a sample SAT question.
As for my bean sprouts project, as bad it was, I did it alone. I interview kids who describe how their schools provide a statistician to analyze their science project data.
I see these kids — and watch my own applying to college — and as evolved as they are, I wouldn’t change places with them for anything. They’re under such pressure.
I used to say goodbye at my door, but since my own kids reached this age, I walk them out to their cars, where a parent waits. I always say the same thing to the mom or dad: “You’ve done a wonderful job — you should be very proud.” And I mean it.
But I’ve stopped feeling bad about the looming rejection. When my four were little, I used to hope a couple might go to Harvard. I pushed them, but by the end of middle school it was clear my twins, at least, were not made that way. They rebelled, and I had to learn to see who they were.
I came to understand that my own focus on Harvard was a matter of not sophistication but narrowness. I grew up in an unworldly blue-collar environment. Getting perfect grades and attending an elite college was one of the few ways up I could see.
My four have been raised in an upper-middle-class world. They look around and see lots of avenues to success. My wife’s two brothers struggled as students at mainstream colleges and both have made wonderful full lives, one as a salesman, the other as a builder. Each found his own best path. Each knows excellence.
That day, running on the beach, I was lost in my thoughts when a voice startled me. “Pops, hey, Pops!” It was Sammy, one of my twins, who’s probably heading for a good state school. He was in his wetsuit, surfing alone in the 30-degree weather, the only other person on the beach. “What a day!” he yelled, and his joy filled my heart.
I think Chris has gotten the message; he and I didn't speak to each other the entire day, and when he happened to walk in the direction I was (with Liz), he didn't say anything and went in the other direction. I feel slightly guilty, but honestly, today was mentally and emotionally a much better day for me than it has been for weeks. The good news about the situation is that I talked to two other people about it, and they notice it too...it's gotten to the point where even for others, it's not cute anymore. We know it's a serious problem, but none of us are certain if it's our responsibility to do anything, and even if we came to realize that it was, what would we even do? How could we even start?
It just feels good in a way to know that I'm not the only one who worries.
In chorus class, we started getting music that we're going to sing at graduation. Even though I will be graduating, I still need to sing with the group...which isn't a problem, since I love singing, and I really like everyone in that class. Mr. Rusk gave us this piece of music (a modified version) from the musical Wicked, and he told us that we would sing it.
I listened to the song, read the words, sang along as instructed, and cried. I got teary just about half-way through. Sarah was next to me and asked why I was getting emotional, and I was honest: "It's just starting to hit me that it's really over."
Cut to four other girls in the alto section crying. I turned the class from the Pointer chorus to the Sobber chorus.
I left the room a little hazy and watery-eyed; in fact, a girl from my Spanish class stopped me because she was wondering what was wrong. I told her that nothing was wrong, but a few minutes later I had something to be upset about: test in Psychology. Gross.
B-P said it was one of the easiest ones all year, but I think it was just shorter (31 questions) more than it was "easier". Still, I have a 99 in that class, I can "afford" to bomb a test (not that I did, but just in case).
Latin was fun, as usual. I swear, I think of all the classes that I'm going to miss in high school, and of all the people I'm going to miss, I can pretty much say that that class sums it up: I'm seriously going to miss everyone in there, I'm going to miss the random conversations, I'm going to miss the humor (even though it's lame: that's right, sir, I know you might read this!), and I'm going to miss the entire ambiance of that group of people.
It sounds really mean, but some of my best amusement comes from antagonizing my teacher. Not because I dislike him, but because I'm pretty sure that the both of us know that I should not be in a level I language. What takes the class 60 minutes to do, I can do in as little as 20, sometimes even 15 or 10 minutes. It's not because it's in any way overly easy, it's just because I'm inclined verbally (to my understanding), and I've taken a lot of language courses -- I've studied some on my own, even. I've got a leg up on most of people in there, even the seniors (the class is full of sophomores for the most part).
On an average day, we'll have some kind of lesson, a paper or two based on it, and we pretty much self-regulate in that class (another thing that I like). Well, I can generally get it done (if I'm not talking to others or helping people) in a faction of the time, and, well, I always like to be doing something, in fact I sometimes feel guilty about sleeping since I'm wasting time and letting ideas fall out of my head -- there have been times when I've woken up at, let's say, 2 AM, with an idea or some kind of image in my head, and even if it annoys my family members, I have to find a way to put it down onto paper, to make it manifest, be it an image, a line of music, or something for a story I'm writing. Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time I've been yelled at for being up too early or making too much noise while the rest of the family is sleeping, I'd be rich. I can't help it, though, it's how I'm wired.
Back to our story, though. Well, knowing that he understands my sense of humor, usually I'll just start yelling (note that when I say yelling, I only mean audibly enough that it becomes noticeable to others in the class) about things. My favorites are any of the following:
- "I'm bored!"
- "You disappoint me." (directed to the teacher)
- "Bored bored bored..."
- "You're a wimp." (directed to the teacher)
- "This is weak. This all weak."
Now I just get extra work, which is fun, but since everyone else is still working on the more basic things, I generally don't get any feedback on it, so it just kind of pools in the back of my mind and I don't do anything with it. I tried doing something similar to that in French class, but the same thing happened; I don't have any way to follow up on the extra work I've been given. So far, I've been given in Latin class: work on verbs of the third, third "io", and fourth conjugations, work on the passive voice, and the pluperfect tense. I'm asking for the subjunctive mood, but he says I'm not ready for it.
Wimp.
Anyway, I have a lot of work to do this weekend after Saturday. My parents and I just got the health forms from the University, which need to be filled out and sent as soon as possible -- which means lots of fun doctor's appointments and shots, but I don't mind; whatever it takes to get out of here, I guess. I also have a lot of work in Spanish class to do, and because senior teach day is coming up, I have to see if anyone wants any help, so I can get lesson plans ready to go. I'm also trying to learn this song without bawling; it really has an effect on me. Even though I'm sure Rusk would decline it, I would love to sing this alone at my graduation. It's worth a shot if I can prove myself, but first things first -- I gotta get through it without crying...
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you:
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a hand print on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend:
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you:
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good
Like a comet pulled Like a ship blown
From orbit as it Off it's mooring
Passes a sun, like By a wind off the
A stream that meets Sea, like a seed
A boulder, half-way Dropped by a
Through the wood Bird in the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better
And because I knew you
Because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed
for good
APEX online learning has officially earned my hatred for the rest of my life.
The site has scheduled my AP Spanish final for June 8th -- a full week after my commencement. For goodness' sake, my last day of school is May 23rd. They've also scheduled an entirely new unit during this month, so I will be doing three weeks' worth of work in a 1.5 week period in order to finish the unit and take my final. I'm not happy. This whole year was a waste for me in terms of my Spanish class, and you can bet that at the end of the year, I will make it known to both parties -- my school and the site.
I also will not be going back to French class -- again. I'm really upset that I feel like I have to do this, but the class will not stop talking about it, and if something were to happen in terms of a physical altercation, it would be more detrimental to me than it would be to the other girl involved. She is a sophomore to my knowledge; if she hits me, she gets suspended, big deal. The problem is, the school has some of the weirdest rules about fights I've ever seen: if you are involved in a fight, even if you don't hit back, you're automatically suspended. If you're a senior (which I am), and you are involved in anything that would result in a suspension, you do not graduate on stage. So even though I believe that I tried to do the right things in this whole ordeal, if I go back to that class, I will risk not being able to graduate with my peers. Ridiculous, but true.
In more positive news: my university orientation is set for either the 15th or 22nd of June. I'm excited -- it's finally going to happen, I hope. I just feel so overwhelmed: Am I going to have everything I need? Is money going to be a problem even with all the scholarships? It's kind of like when you were younger and you were going to Disney World, and you were planning on what to do while you were there -- I'm just so excited that I'm considering everything. Jon and I will be going on the same day, even though we probably won't be in the same group -- it's a sleepover, after all...heh.
Also, Jon considers me to be on the dim side for asking this question in my Latin class:
"If Rome was so warm, wouldn't it be difficult to write things onto wax tablets because they would start to melt?"
I thought it was a legitimate question.
