AS Levels have begun

Wow, I have just begun my journey in optional education. For some reason (probably vanity) I have chosen to carry on with learning and churning out exams and good grades (told you I was vain). I’m excited for all the homework that I’m going to get so that I can work really hard and have sleepless nights and have to draft coursework and read textbooks and drink coffee and oh boy, oh boy... it’s just so brilliant. Okay, obviously I am joking. What am I doing this very minute? Playing escape games on a gaming website. What will I be doing in another hour? The same thing.

Maybe I can write this blog about escapism? Trying to escape from a life full of work and having to do things you’d rather not do because you’d rather play stupid games on the internet. But no, this post isn’t intended to have a meaning or a moral or a message. I’m literally writing to practise writing at the moment and far too sleepy to attempt anything with any intellectual effort required. But let’s try and make this at least a couple hundred words shall we?

So what’s happening in Sixth Form, Shazzam? What’s new is the amount of time it takes to get from my Sixth Form building to the rest of the school. It’s no surprise that no one has a clue what time lessons begin because you’re just too busy walking and getting late to them. The process has given me a newfound respect for all the grumpy Sixth Formers I ever came across during my younger years – I have now become one of them.

It’s not just walking that makes Sixth Formers grumpy though. The subjects that we thought we loved coming back and biting us in the butt is also a huge factor of our crankiness. Who knew you had to do calculate for Maths? Who knew you had to draw for Art? Who knew you had to read for English? You’d think they’d tell you these things.

Nah, I love my subjects and am having a great time studying them. We are currently in the transitional period where teachers aren’t sure how much work to give you to ease in (answer: everything you would normally – I’m not a person who likes to ‘ease’.) We know that a lot of work is approaching and it’s approaching fast but we are still standing, shaking in the eye of the storm as the papers and text books whirl around in a hurricane, getting closer and closer to our school bags...

And ouch are our school bags heavy!

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Actually, I think this piece demonstrates escapism quite heavily. I should be working, but I'm escaping by writing my thoughts on a blog. 

Okay this only took me about 20 minutes to write so I really don't have an excuse to not write more. Inspire me, invisible people who I'll pretend are reading this! Also, if anyone is wondering, my GCSE results went surprisingly well - no retakes (not even in Maths)!

Maths

‘Do not worry about your problems with mathematics; I assure you mine are far greater.’ 

– Albert Einstein.

This quotation from the genius of the 20^th century may make you smile, but for me – whether or not this was Einstein’s aim – they place an immense coat of relief around my shoulders. Thank. God. Maths has rained and stormed over my head since the age of nine when we began our epic war of transcendental proportions. You scientists and mathematicians can have this subject, take it away from me – I honestly don’t mind.

You may be wondering why I am expressing distaste for an academic subject which has so much practical (not for me thanks) use in the modern world especially since my favourite subject is English Literature, a sometimes unpopular (as if!) subject due to its difficulty just as Maths is. But here is the crux of the matter: next Monday, yes this coming Monday, Monday 7^th June 2010, I have the exam that I have dreaded all my life, the culmination of all my academic fears, the reason behind the headaches and tears: Maths GCSE. Okay, for you mathematicians and numerical whizzes, you could argue that Maths at GSCE level is easy but, being a GCSE student who is taking eight other GCSEs also, I feel that I am qualified in saying that no, it’s not.

I will put my hands up and admit that, at least, it is what O level students will call a ‘proper’ exam. Some of the other subjects I take do not reflect what is taught at A level and can be passed with a lot of memorising (I’m looking at you Science). However, Maths is one of those subjects where I would love to see a ‘dumbing down’ occur. Edexcel if you are listening, here is some feedback: make it easier!

But I must sigh and put my hands up: I am exaggerating. Anyone who knows me and reads this will wonder why I’m prattling on about the difficulty of Maths when I myself am in the top set for this nuisance of a subject. Let me clear things up: I was put in Set 1 at the age of eleven where I could memorise formulas as well as I can now. The difference is that, whilst in Year 7 where memorising formulas was fine and dandy, in Year 11 it means nothing (we even get formulas at the front so that we don’t have to memorise them!). Applying these formulas and unpicking what the questions are actually asking me is where the trouble lies. And if I can’t get into the geometric brains of the people who write these exams I can’t A* it (Set 1 are expected A*s).

Anyway, a little rant there and, as pretentious as you may find it, I needed to let it out. What I’m really saying is wish me lots and lots of luck! And hope everything goes well for others who also have exams. See you on the other side when I will be free of inequalities, equations and quadratics - forever (hopefully).

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Wow I really ought to update more but I am a busy bee with lots of Maths to do! Ah I can't leave the blog at that because I feel guilty (massive eye roll here). Maths is a great subject and I truly have a massive amount of respect for people who can do it and are good at it. I'm just bitter because I'm bad at it - just a sore loser obviously.
Well, until the next time I remember to blog! Laters!

Collecting stories for my blog – oh sorry – I meant collecting money...

Wow, I've not posted anything for ages! I really ought to do this more often - it didn't even take me that long to write! Here is the next blog anyway.


These past few weeks I have been involved in collecting donations (yes – in those lovely, beautifully coloured little tins) for the hospital radio station I volunteer at. I was trained in this skill as I walked down the stairs to the entrance where some of the other volunteers and I would be collecting. I was told that there were three rules to collecting:

1. Do not ask for donations
2. Do not push the tin away from your body as though you are asking for donations
3. Do not shake the tin and make the money rattle as though you are asking for donations

As soon as I was told these three laws, my inner plans that I had quickly formulated whilst walking down the corridor were quashed. The first thing I had been planning to do was approach an unsuspecting man or woman, rattle the tin in their faces and say ‘Flipping heck, not got much money in there. Would you like to fix that situation? (It’s for charity)’. But I guess some rules I’m just not brazen enough to break.

Initially, I thought that no person would donate any money if I didn’t ask them but I was proved completely wrong. With just a cheerful smile from me, people flocked to drop spare change into the pot; some even donated two or three pounds at a time! I managed to collect £20 in an hour – and that is good I can tell you.

Just today, I volunteered to collect money on a shopping street in my town for a couple of hours. Not even the warmth of the brightly coloured lantern-like pot in my hand could take away the numbness from my fingers. My hands had frozen and I didn’t even realize how bad it was until someone donated a pound but it didn't drop directly into the pot so I nudged it to get it in. I couldn’t even pick the coin up. I had lost normal usage of my hand – it was a surreal moment. Thoughts of piano and clarinet exams flooded my head – can’t pass when I can’t use my hands! Luckily, as soon as I sat on the bus home, my fingers warmed up and returned to their primary functions.

However, even my anaesthetized hands couldn’t distract me from the fact that the people in my town are very generous and it made me so happy to see so many townsfolk selflessly donate to charity. More of the older generation donated than the younger generation, and I, being a part of the youths of today did not expect any money at all – let alone the hundred pounds (and over) that we accumulated that day.

One of the most interesting things about volunteering to do something like this is the simplistic and fundamental joy of watching – and talking – to random people. I noticed around four clear techniques when people donated. They were:

• The ones who made a joke before giving money
• The ones who walked over confidently to donate
• The ones who stood next to you searching their bags for money (this is the most awkward time I have ever experienced in human communication) 
• And the ones who notice me saying ‘good morning’ to them and come back later to donate because I’m just so lovely (this, I can assure you, reader, is one of the most truthful things I have ever said - of course.)

And there are also techniques used by those who don’t donate:

• The ones who don’t make eye contact and rush past you
• The ones who smile guiltily at you and tell you that they have no change 
• And the ones who laugh at your predicament (but I usually catch them later when they walk back up the street)

I’m always surprised by how much I enjoy smiling at random people for money (even though I do not get paid myself). I have to say, the main thing I have learnt from this experience and would like to share with the rest of the blogging world is: when standing immobile outside in winter, wear gloves.

The joys of a last minute life

‘If it weren’t for the last minute, I wouldn’t get anything done’.

- Anon

I believe that this simple quotation defines my existence. Working until the moment before something is due in is not an unfamiliar concept to me or most people of my age. I don’t think there is anything I have ever done that hasn’t been benefitted with a little last minute action. Even when I have promised myself that this piece of coursework will be the one that I finish early, I still manage to conveniently forget my oath and apologetically start it the night before.

Sometimes, I fall under the impression that I have started an assignment before time (for once) and I only have a few words left to type before it is complete (but that can be done the night before, can’t it?) I then look back through the mass of words before me and realise that my mind must have been engaging in some sort of cruel deception: the mass of words doesn’t actually look that massive. In fact, I’ve only completed the introduction. And guess when it is due for?

Consequently, my hope for an early night is washed away with six mugs of coffee and any thought of waking up early for a run is subsequently drowned (not that I would wake up early anyway – especially for a exercise. Running is a last minute activity only engaged in when you are late).

You may complain that youths of today are being lazy and procrastinating endlessly, but I argue that we do it because we enjoy the rush of watching our marathon typing fingers tap away endlessly at the keyboard for that important essay due in the next day. Our rushes of joy are through our wonderful, last minute lives (and the reasons we have left it until the last minute in the first place...)