Thursday, August 12, 2010

At this point, I wanted to scream and shout and jump up and down with joy - or just simply go to sleep.

So. My first real day of school as a 9th-grader. Ju-fucking-hu.

I have looked forward to this day since my very first day of school - when I was about 5 years old, with short, badly cut hair, big dodo-eyes, and a sense of purpose called "I want to be like them someday!".

Through my whole carreer as a student at my Danish school, it has been the notorious 9th-graders that were the TOP of the school. Every year, a new set of 9th-graders comes along and have to beat, or at least live up to, the standards set by the previous 9th-graders. From my position in the schools pecking-order, I was, in the 8th grade, the subejct of belittling, relentless teasing and ridicule of the 9th-graders - just the same as all my fellow classmates.

But now - ohoho, noow - it is us, the 8th-graders of last year, who get to rule the school. It is us who gets to make remarks, sing loudly and out of tune for morning assembly (and get away with it), watch the rest of the school struggling through different tortures, while we struggle with our own more difficult, slightly more mature struggles.

And after all this waiting: I'm finally here. Our class has been moved to the North Wing (uuh!!), where the oldest students have always been settled (woow!!). Together with these honors, I was presented with a growing stack of homework, and a growing worry of the posibility of not getting my exam when the time comes.

Though the shine will wear off eventually, the glory of being a 9th-grader is still glowing in all of our stony, teenage-eyes. And though I have been rambling on about the glory and honor and joy and blablabla of being in the eldest year in school, I am exhausted! I have been carrying around huge loads of books, poring over those same pages, scribbling until my hand ached from writing too hard on the paper, and concentrating until a permanent wrinkle between my eye-brows appeared. I have learned and learned and learned, and thought and thought and thought, and worried and worried and worried, and obsessed and obsessed and obsessed, until my brain hurt so much that I just wanted to turn it off.

So, with no further ado, I am, at 5 pm, taking my tired 15-year-old body, and going to go to sleep.

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry

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