The yearbook at AC is really nice, it's made by the students (during their Project Week), and contains only the Second Years.
The Second Years get to choose their picture (any), and write 200 words about anything. Mine is quite standard, a quote and then personal inside things that others wouldn't be able to pick up unless they participated in them.
We also write things for our teachers, in the last week I have helped write two, one for Alun in Geography and one for Ruth in English.
Ruth:
“I can’t bloody believe it!
Graeme stayed logged on AGAIN!” This familiar outburst marks the start of
another English lesson with Ruth. Arriving fashionably late as usual, the rant
is not over yet: “I mean, just look at the state of this room! How am I
supposed to teach in this kind of environment?” *squirt squirt* Out comes the
99.9% spray. Avrah dodges.
“Blinds up! We need to let in as much sunshine as we
can in this place!”
At this point, Zena wonders in at last. “How’s life Zena?”
Ruth attempts. “It’s there.”
And so the lesson begins. As much as we were all
enraptured by Ted Hughes’ muscular language, our attention slowly diverts
itself to more… modern matters.
As you once wisely told us, people do a
lot of illegal things. Like speeding. Continuously.
Indeed, when we
weren’t discussing the new colour of your front door and the ‘simple’ men of
the class weren’t storming out of the room in outrage, we were focused on the
reviews of Tranquilino’s sales on Amazon.
That said, you succeeded in teaching
us to appreciate tone and punctuation and even Nick can’t read a poem without
at least attempting to draw some kind of meaning from it.
However, some things
will never change. We shall forever hate the Moor, and Wodwo will always be a
dog.
Our memory will remain forever copied onto your iTunes.
Alun:
Alun, the last two years of Geography with you have been…
sporadic.
We’re not sure if we should take offense. Leaving us in the
hands of an intern, whose name we still struggle to pronounce, and then fleeing
half way across the world to compete in triathlons and for your various
“important meetings”. But we forgive as
soon as you put on an episode of Planet Earth - you know the way to our hearts.
None the less, your patience has been tested repeatedly. Our
extreme protestations of your changing the slides far too fast. Karen’s… well,
Karen. We long ago gave up on you remembering all the students’ names: in
Geography, he will always be SakFish.
You never gave up on us, even when half of us had our backs
turned to you (seriously, you should rearrange those tables).
You have a talent of making your students beg for work. ‘Please
can I have a past paper?’- Abi, and the mystery behind the basis of our monthly
grades still haunt us. You succeed in capturing our interest [even Janos’!]
when we browse ‘the news’
PS- Please Clean the Geography Filter.
MINE- (the picture will be in black and white though, this was taken in the Romeo and Juliet Tower, you can see the castle in the background)
Abi Drummond- Cayman Islands, England
I know these will all be stories someday.
And our pictures will become old photographs.
We'll all become somebody's Mom or Dad.
But right now these moments are not stories.
This is happening, I am here and I am embracing it all.
We are alive, surrounded by everything that makes us wonder.
And in these two years, I swear, we are infinite.
Note-taking and memorization have ever achieved.
Thank you-
For the cheap wine: Walking languidly to
And with such ferocity from Marcross.
For the hummus. And the bowls of porridge.
For the Dhal. And the Al Dente Pasta. And lunch in the Blue Garden.
For the Green Tea. And Mate. And Norwegian Coffee.
For the highest highs and the lowest lows – usually in the same afternoon.
For Crazy Ponies. 69. Gubby. Petals. Fatty. Giraffe.
And for the one that I cherish more than any nickname could fathom.
Thank you.
For all the ones I love: it’s never really going to be goodbye.
I have too many plans, too many checkboxes needing to be ticked. Abi
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