remembering why i hate my school

Four years… For four years I wasn’t enthusiastic about my alma matter. My friends know this, and I put real emphasis on FRIENDS. For those of my acquaintances who don’t know me, I cried during my first year in college. Not because of family, nor friends, but because of my new school. What was alarming was I’m a people person, and there is nothing more in life more exciting for me than meeting new people. But I hated my school. I wanted out. Literally thinking about transferring where all my friends were, I patiently took solace in talking it over with them. School is far, in every sense of the word. More importantly I hated the kind of people that were there.

Coming from a coed high school down south (or the province as the people in my school calls it), I found myself in awe at the huge transition I had to put myself into. Not that I’m generalizing that people there all talk, walk and dress alike, but some of those I had gotten to meet intimidated me by their drive for excellence. You would think that this is actually healthy, but watching them not care about others by degrading or underestimating them just so they can succeed on getting high grades made it down right frightening (scary is too weak to describe it). People go along their little lives not caring, which is probably why we’re tagged as snobbish (which most of us are not, just some). I, on the other hand, amused myself while I sat in one of the benches around campus watching THEM.

I’m an average student. As much as I want to attain MAGIS, I’m quite content with what I have accomplished. In the previous entry, I talked about killing the man who said, “it is not the destination that’s important, but the journey”. Well, I guess he’s right all along. What can I say against old and wise proverbs?

I never did transfer. I was already finishing my second year in school when I really felt I couldn’t handle the pressure. But I thought that since I was already over the 1st half, I could still bear another. I was not likely to quit. I had my own set of friends, those that I felt comfortable with. There were no high standard requirement, no fru- fru, which I really appreciated about them. No one wore lavish clothes or really up-to-date shoes, but each had their own comfortable styles. We were normal, average, day- to- day students unlike the ones you see in Clueless or other movies depicting high school life. You can say I survived school because of them.

This week is finals week. Tomorrow will be my last exam: theology. I actually can’t wait to graduate.

Thinking that all is going to go well in my last year, things couldn’t go any worse off. I thought that I had lost connections with THEM. Apparently they pop out when you least expect them. I almost lost it a little earlier. I was stressed in taking my Political Science finals, and I had to cram our presentation for OB. My group mates were frantic; I wouldn’t blame them cause so was I. But there’s nothing anyone could do but just finish the job right? Wrong. For THEM, the ones who want to get an A because he wants to graduate cum laude (thought my friend said it was actually impossible for him) and another who just wants it (my friend said it was probably due to the fact that she wasn’t in the dean’s list), the presentation was vital. Gee, thanks for making me feel so irresponsible when I already felt like it. It was like I never wanted to get high too. Like I purposely sabotaged the whole thing (two of us were in charge of it by the way). She sent me the final paper just the night before. I had to study so I told her I’ll be able to make the powerpoint the next morning. But when I checked that morning, I didn’t get anything. Then she starts bitching. PMS. Blah. So since it was still early, it was still ok. I asked my partner if we could meet before my exam. He said he couldn’t. blah. So I made an outline from the semi-final paper and asked him to get it from me before my exam so he could input it already. He didn’t. And to top it all off, we couldn’t contact him let alone find him. I rushed my exam so that we could finish it on time. I might fail in that exam. But that’s beside the point. The presentation was at 4, it was already 3 and still no sign of him. I was panicking. At 3 he finally shows up and that’s when we start making the powerpoint. I gave him my outline (it was per slide). All he had to do was type it all in. But there was still the final paper. I had to include the newly added ones too. Stressed and panicking I worked hastily. THEY watched in shocking realization that we weren’t finished. No shit Sherlocks. We couldn’t finish the whole paper into powerpoint but most of it were already there. 33 slides with movie clips in 1 hour and 30 minutes. We went to the venue at 4:30, good thing the first group was still presenting. Already tired, and frustrated, THEY tell me about their need of an A in that class. Like I didn’t want it. It was the first time I wanted to cry. I felt like… well, this is the first time anyone seemed to bully me. That’s it, I felt bullied. My other friends comforted me by asking if I knew that they were really like that even before? It was one of the reasons why they didn’t want to be grouped with them since third year. Why don’t I ever notice these things? I was crushed. They got me at my weakness, I hate letting people down. I couldn’t care less if I failed… well, I actually do, but getting low grades don’t mind me that much. I hated it. I hated THEM.

I’m in my last year. Why did this have to happen to me in my last year. There can be no peace with me. I just had to be reminded why I hate this school.

- Live like there's no tomorrow. Love like it's your last.